#IT SUCKS SO BAD ITS SO UGLY ITS SO CLUTTERED WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS

[lttm]

ok how do i change this. 2 for size

[nightmare-fredbear]

how would you rank every fnaf game?

terrible question to ask me because unfortunately me and my tastes are Annoying. all personal opinion. obviously.

not going to include games i didn't play, for the most part. gave little explanations as to why i placed them where i did because i'm annoying. sorry anon

1- fnaf 1 nostalgia blind but i think it has the most solid gameplay loop w/o being overwhelming and i like the general ugly grungy aesthetic. i think it works best in the series as a horror game and has the best atmosphere. i wish freddy himself had more of a presence in-game.

2- fnaf 2 i think the gamplay is honestly cluttered but the game is iconic. i also think it has some of my fav character designs in the whole series. too chaotic to be even remotely scary however. atmosphere kinda sucks. i think seeing the animatronics down the hall w/ no door fucking rules.

3- fnaf 3 honestly i barely remember the gameplay loop but i remember liking it at the time even if im still of the opinion springtrap should've been a freddy suit. the ending screens still make me a little emotional. i think i am the only person in the world who thinks the phantoms are cool.

4- controversial take. fnaf world look fnaf world is Bad but i am paradoxically endeared to it. i think the designs is cute and im fond of the repetitive gameplay, even if the effects of the game are nauseating and its gameplay is bland. i love to do occasional challenge runs of fnaf world. help me.

5- fnaf 4 i could get into how i feel abt the soft reset of fnaf lore here but i wont. i have trouble processing sound so this game was literally unplayable for me. i found the designs of the animatronics to be over the top to the point of goofiness but i'm endeared to them regardless. mostly higher up bc of nostalgia. nightmare's jumpscare is cool however.

6- ultimate custom night i only played it very briefly but it does what it wants to do just fine so its alright. i don't find the humour very funny but i like hearing some of the voices and i appreciate the concept, i guess.

7- sister location did not like sister location. sorry. the designs are fun though, it was nice to see some humanoid animatronics. this is the point where i jumped ship bc i didnt like the direction the games were going anymore.

8- security breach sorry i lied i didnt play this one but i was exceptionally disappointed with its execution. some of the designs are fun but i am significantly less endeared to its quirks than others. i can at the very least appreciate the actual design of the map and some of the sound work. the clanking footsteps of the animatronics is very satisfying to me for some reason.

i didn't play pizza sim bc i jumped ship at SL so i dont really have any opinions on it other than i predicted porkpatch's existence and i really like him. also didnt play vr bc i don't have access to vr.

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Christmas Figurines and Mistletoe | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x gender neutral!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.4k

✦ request — Could you write something about being caught under the mistletoe with Damian Wayne? Fluffy and really mutty.

✦ warnings — nsfw, reader has a vagina, making out, vaginal sex, pouty Damian, jealousy if you squint, fluff.

✦ author’s note — I assumed anon meant smutty instead of mutty.

════════════════════════

Damian was driving you crazy. And not the good kind of crazy. You were regretting staying at Titan Tower instead of going Christmas shopping with your friends.

You had assumed they would need the bonding moment on their own. They would spend Christmas at the tower while you would do so at home, it was only fair.

The problem was that you didn’t think Damian would come to the tower so early. He had said he’d come by that evening to make sure everything was perfect for the Christmas party you all convinced him to throw.

He hated almost everything. And you were terrified of showing him the Christmas tree because it was... a lot.

Explaining to him that Christmas was supposed to be colorful and that meant things looking tacky here and there would be pointless. He had been clear on what he didn’t want to see.

Damian clenched his jaw as he stood in front of the tree. “Why are the lights off?”

“The Tower’s empty.”

“You are here,” he said drily. “What did you do?”

You immediately defended yourself, “I didn’t do anything! I wasn’t here when the tree was decorated. You sent Jon and me on that quick mission, remember?”

Damian grunted, nodding. To your horror, he lit the tree up himself. A strange sound spluttered from his throat, and he turned to look at you with narrowed eyes.

“Damian, come on! It’s cheerful.”

“Who was the genius who decided that colorful lights and colorful ornaments were a good look?”

“I don’t know... Christmas trees come from a German tradition, and—“

He interrupted you, exasperated, “This specific tree!”

You shrugged. The tree had already been decorated when you came back, just like the kitchen.

Oh, the kitchen. Damian hated it, it looked cluttered according to him.

He picked a ceramic figurine and examined it. “This is the sloppiest paint job I’ve ever seen.”

“Most figurines come like that. Or with deformed faces.”

He placed it back in its place, turning around to examine you. “I find it interesting,” he mused, dragging his eyes to the microwave which was decorated by a Christmas themed microwave cover, “that you seem to know a lot about figurines and their flaws.”

“I didn’t buy them if that’s what you’re implying.”

“You bought Christmas mugs for everybody.”

“Yes, but I didn’t buy those!” Seeing him incredulously lift his eyebrows, you groaned. “Look, those figurines are common in most households. My mom loves them. That’s it, that’s how I know how flawed the come.”

“What will you do if I inspect your bedroom and more of those ugly things are there?”

You slanted your head, making a motion for him to exit the kitchen with you. “Come. Inspect it.”

You lead the way, more relieved than exasperated. He would drop it once he realized you didn’t have anything to do with it, he always did.

Before he could cross the kitchen’s doorway, Damian halted his steps behind you, grasping your hips and pulling you closer to him. You turned around, now confused.

He looked up to the top of the doorframe. His eyes stayed there and he remained silent which prompted you to look up too.

You shifted as mistletoe came to view. “I— I didn’t put that there... I didn’t even know somebody had bought it!” You attempted to move, hoping he would drop his hands. When he didn’t, you said, “I’ll get it off.”

Damian’s grip on your hips tightened. “Not following the tradition would bring us bad luck,” he explained with ease.

Your stomach flipped. Damian wasn’t superstitious.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “you’re right.”

You half-expected a comment along the lines of ‘I’m always right,’ but instead, he slowly leaned in. You did the same, meeting him in the middle. His lashes brushed your skin when his eyes lidded closed, prompting yours to flutter.

He kissed you softly, taking his time to map your lips with his own, somewhat afraid of kissing you wrong. You tentatively placed your hands on his arms, ever so slightly tilting your head.

Pulling away, you nervously watched him. Damian slowly opened his eyes, not helping your case and making you feel giddy as he gazed at you.

He brought you in for another kiss, resting his lower back against the counter. Damian swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, and you eagerly opened your mouth for him.

His pleased hum sent shivers down your spine. As if it wasn’t enough to have you breathless, his hands lightly wandered to your back. His touch and kiss didn’t match in rhythm, and it only drove you crazier.

One of his hands fell onto your ass, then the other. You instinctively pushed your hips forward, hands flying to his shoulders. He grasped your asscheeks in both hands and pulled your hips flush against his.

A low whimper left your mouth, going directly down his throat as he swallowed it by kissing you harder.

He pushed you back. Assuming he needed space, you withdrew your hands from his shoulders. Damian briefly frowned, yet his grip tightened on you as he tried a different approach by walking you backward instead of pushing you.

“I still need to inspect your room,” he said, voice low as he analyzed your reaction.

You didn’t trust your voice so you merely nodded. It would have been easier to walk to your room by yourself, or with his hands still on you but actually looking where you were stepping.

The thought of walking slowly so you could savor the weight of his hands on your body was tempting. But Damian hated wasting time. And slow walkers.

Your room was underwhelming in comparison to your teammates’, in part because you didn’t have time to decorate and in part because you didn’t know what to do with the empty wall near the window therefore you couldn’t make up your mind about anything else.

“You can open any drawer you want,” you told him, ready to put the moment you had just shared to the side.

Damian gave you an incredulous look upon realizing you were being serious.

His eyes were as green as ever, watching you carefully as though he expected you to read his mind. Not for the first time, you wished you could.

His hands twitched on your ass. One of them softly caressed the area, drawing random patterns on your clothed asscheek.

“You can’t possibly think I brought you here to look for a stupid Christmas ornament.”

“So you brought me to my bedroom just to make out?”

”Let’s go with that,” he conceded. “I didn’t want us to be interrupted.”

“Can’t let the team know about your crush on me?” you teased him before you could fully realize what you were saying. It was fun banter, meaningless.

Damian turned serious. “I’m certain they know by now, but I would rather not get caught groping your ass in the middle of the kitchen.”

“Wait... so you hung the mistletoe?”

“No. But I’m not above admitting I should thank whoever did it.” He firmly rested his hands on your ass, pushing his hips against yours. “Now, can we stop talking?”

“Sure.” You kissed him this time, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Soon, he had you on his lap as he sat on your bed, humping him while he kissed your neck. He inched your sweater up, brushing your belly with his fingertips.

“I want you,” you whined, aware that he would leave marks on your neck.

“I’m here,” he deadpanned, nipping at your throat as he continued lifting your sweater.

You stopped moving your hips, lightly shifting on his lap in order for your hands to reach his belt. He didn’t stop you, so you went on and unbuckled his belt before undoing his pants.

Damian made you stand up, not for a moment taking his hands off you. In contrast, your neck already missed his plump lips.

He undid your jeans in a hurry, lowering them down your knees along with your panties.

Bluntly, he asked, “You need me to finger you first?”

Feeling your face heat up as he intensely gazed at you in expectancy of an answer, you pulled one of your hands off his body and parted your folds.

You found embarrassing how wet he made you. Only able to shake your head, you avoided looking at him directly.

“Use your words,” he commanded softly.

“No,” you whispered. He shuffled, lifting his hips to get rid of his pants and boxers. The gesture made your skin tingle, and as you kicked your shoes and jeans off, you added, “I don’t need you to finger me.”

Hissing, Damian held his cock for you, looking down as you placed your palm on top of the back of his hand. Your hand replaced his, and you softly caressed his cock.

“Condom?”

He stretched his arm, slanting his body to the side as he reached for his wallet. He handed the condom to you without a word, throwing his wallet onto the floor.

Once you had rolled the condom down his cock, his gaze lifted. You straddled him again, slowly gliding down. A groan spurted from within him as you took your time to push inch after inch of his cock inside you.

Damian’s eyes were on your face, refusing to lose any detail of your reaction as he entered you for the first time.

You moaned, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. He held you by the waist, holding his breath as you ever so slightly drove your hips forward.

The more you moved, the less he cared about whether he was loud or not. There hadn’t been signs of the team coming back, but you were certain Damian wouldn’t have cared either way.

He began moving his hips at your rhythm, only prompting you to roll your hips more enthusiastically as you sucked on his neck.

You tried to push him to lay down on the bed, but he stopped you, speaking softly. “Wait. It’s hot in here.”

Feeling empty as you moved away from his lap in order to get rid of your remaining clothes, you entertained yourself by admiring his body as he did the same.

Damian grabbed your hand, bringing you on top of him as he laid on his back. He kissed you, holding the back of your head with a hand as the other rested on your lower back.

Such placement made it extremely easy for him to roll you over so he could be on top, and the distraction his lips bestowed upon you a calculated move.

“Meanie,” you lightheartedly panted on his mouth.

He huffed a laugh, giving you a short kiss. “You seem to like it.” Damian dragged the tip of his cock along your folds, briefly teasing you before shoving it inside you.

He caressed your thighs as he started to thrust in slow strokes, teasing you some more as he controlled his breath.

Bottoming out, Damian tightened his grip on your thighs. He rolled his hips, and by your request started going faster.

You dropped your head onto the pillow, whimpering freely. This time you were the one who didn’t care if the tower was still empty.

His mouth hovered over yours. You were struggling to keep your eyes open, and by the way he was smiling at you, he surely knew.

“You look so beautiful right now,” he told you, lips brushing against yours. “Even more beautiful than in my imagination.”

You canted your hips up, desperate for more. More of him, of his voice, of everything he was willing to give.

And he granted you such wishes, picking up his pace, kissing you, gripping your thighs just the way you liked it even though he had no way to know.

Your nails dug into his back as you attempted to have him closer. It was impossible to do so, yet you had to give it a try.

“You’re gonna make me come,” you announced.

As though your words had been a demand for him to make you come already, he pressed his fingers on your clit and started rubbing as he thrust inside you.

Tired and spent, you felt his weight fall on top of your front. Damian kissed the side of your neck as he rested his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily.

Eventually, you softly pushed him off you and begrudgingly left the bed in direction to the bathroom.

You were washing your legs with the showerhead when Damian entered the bathroom. “There are clean towels in the second drawer if you also want to wash yourself,” you informed him.

He opened said drawer as you shut the water. He didn’t make any move for a moment, but he took a clean towel nonetheless.

You patted your skin dry, moving out of his way so he could use the shower.

“You had condoms here,” he observed.

“Well, I didn’t know which type of condom you preferred...”

“Oh, are those somebody else’s preferred ones?”

You slipped a clean pair of panties on. He watched you. “Please tell me you’re not actually angry because of this.”

“Your shower gel smells nice,” he opted for saying.

You hummed. “It’s new. I got tired of the blue one.”

Giving him privacy, you exited the bathroom and decided to check the mattress in case you needed to change the bedding.

Back in your bedroom, Damian silently put his boxers back on. He didn’t bother with his pants nor his shirt.

“I’m not angry,” he finally stopped avoiding the subject.

You tried not to frown. “You’re pouting.”

His expression turned blank. “I don’t pout.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Come to the Christmas party with me.”

“I’ll be at the party either way.”

“Yes,” he gritted before inhaling deeply. “But I want you to be with me. As my date.”

“What would the difference be?” You didn’t understand why it was such a big deal. “We know everybody already.”

“For one, it would help me sleep at night.” He took you by the face with one hand, looking straight into your eyes. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Your voice sounded weird due to the pressure of his fingers on your cheeks

Damian gave you a sweet kiss, loosening his grip on your face to cup your cheek. You softly placed your hand on the back of his head, giving him another kiss. And another, and another, until you lost count.

[satyr-syd]

Seconds after Sero stepped into the blazing heat of the summer sun, sweat already pooling at the base of his spine under his thin tank-top, it began to snow.

Chilly pin-pricks dotted the back of his back. A gust of wind manifested out of nowhere and whipped against his tragically exposed sides. He held out his hand and watched as tiny white specks melted on his sweaty palm. Sero looked up, but the sun still beat down, unhindered by a single wisp of cloud. Goosebumps pimpled down his arms.

Well this sucks.  

He was supposed to meet Todoroki in the quad five minutes ago for their daily study session (Sero had many charming qualities, and being fashionably late was one of them). Ever since their dorm’s AC had been tragically annihilated in an acid-related incident that Sero had absolutely no part in whatsoever, the quad was the best place to study. Outside, there was at least the suggestion of a breeze.

Okay, so it was a bit more than a suggestion now. More like a firm instruction, edging on harsh demand.

Sero rubbed his arms together, elbows tight against his poor exposed sides. Man oh man was he not a fan of winter. Winter meant trying to find the one jacket in the entire mall that suited his specific physique and hoping they still stocked it in his size. Where did the snow even come from? Why did it have to be now of all times? If he tried to make himself a jacket out of his tape would it actually work this time?

While Sero stood there freezing his ass off like an idiot instead of like, going back inside, a white-and-red head made its way through the quad to him.

read on ao3

fic art by @kim-namzoom!!!

“Hanta,” Todoroki greeted. His hair, grown lovingly past his shoulders in the spirit of spite (“My father despises it,” Todoroki had announced proudly after returning from winter break their second year), laid over his shoulder in a loose braid. Sero wondered who’d braided it for him. It looked nice.

By then, an icy sheen coated the ground and the wind blew loud enough to howl in his ear, and the nails on Sero’s fingers began to purple. “Dude, is this you?” Sero asked.

Todoroki shook his head. He stood close, nearly shoulder to shoulder. “I don’t know how to make snow.”

“Huh,” Sero said. “You should learn how. Then we could have snow cones like every day.”

Todoroki held out his hand - the right one - next to Sero’s.Whereas the snowflakes melted into watery mush in Sero’s palm after a few moments, they held their shape in Todoroki’s, forming a lacy layer of crystals over his slender fingers.

“Do you like snowcones?” Torodoki asked.

Sero shrugged. “Dunno, never had one.”

“Neither have I.”

Present Mic’s voice burst through the loudspeakers. “THERE HAS BEEN A QUIRK MISHAP! SORRY FOR THE UNFORESEEN WEATHER, KIDDOS! PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY BACK TO YOUR ROOMS WHILE WE FIGURE OUT WHAT’S HAPPENING.”

The few students still standing outside slowly filed indoors.

“Maybe one of the first years?” Sero asked.

“Probably,” Todoroki said. He held up his hand. “They’re the ones most lacking in control...and yet, overflowing with arrogance.”

“Wow, sounds like someone I knew in first year.”

Todoroki nodded sagely. “Bakugou was certainly a handful.”

“I know you know who I was talking about,” Sero said, poking his shoulder.

Todoroki smirked. It was just the slight quirk of his lips, barely visible unless you knew to look for it. Sero knew to look. He’s seen that smile a lot, these days. Which was great, because Todoroki had a wonderful smile, but also not great, because whenever he made Todoroki smile, his heart doki-doki ’d so hard that he was positive Todoroki could hear it.

See, asking Todoroki to tutor him had been a highly calculated move that had not one, but two purposes: first, Sero was, is, and (if we’re being honest) probably always will be a terrible student and if there was any chance of him getting decent grades his last year of high school, he needed a tutor. He could have asked the other top-scoring students, but Momo and Kendo were too busy (he wasn’t the only idiot scrambling for a passing grade), Bakugou was too explodey, Iida was too boring, and Midoriya was too muttery. Todoroki was none of those things and also the hottest of the bunch, which lead to purpose number two: as his tutor, he and Todoroki could spend more time alone together. Why? Because six months had passed since Sero admitted to himself that he was no better than every other girl in school and was totally crushing on the Icy-hot hero Shouto and now he’s tired of pining like some basic bitch.

“Let’s study in my room,” Todoroki said.

Sero had been to Torodoki’s room like, a ton of times, but his heart still skipped a beat every time Todoroki invited him. “Lead the way, sensei,” he said.

“I’m not your sensei.”

“Your teaching prowess says otherwise, sensei.”

“Call me sensei one more time and I’ll have Bakugou quiz you on polar coordinates.”

“Now that’s just cruel,” Sero said. He spun in front of Todoroki. “But I don’t think you have the heart to follow through on that - ” Sero tapped his nose to the beat of his killing blow “ -  sen-sei.”

Todoroki stared at him for a moment, pouting, cheeks pink from the cold. Then he pulled out his phone and began texting Bakugou.

“Noooooo shit I’m sorry I’ll stop! It was just a joke!”

This is it,  Sero told himself.  Snow storm wailing outside, holed up in Todoroki’s room, just the two of us - this is my moment.

Todoroki’s room hadn’t changed much since their first year. Decorative pot of bamboo in the corner (fake), tall, dark wooden drawers, a low desk free of clutter, tatami flooring, somehow. That ugly checkered mat by his desk. But where there once was one chair, now there were two. A pair of crocs (never worn) sat in front of his dresser. And on the dresser, crowding the decorative orb, half a dozen framed pictures: Todoroki, Midoriya, and Bakugou at the end of their internship with Endeavor; their class picture from last year; Natsuo and Fuyumi showering Todoroki in hugs; a selfie Sero took of him and Todoroki on their first day of their summer internship with Edgeshot.

There was also a behemoth purple beanbag sitting by the shoji screen. It looked wildly out of place with the rest of his traditional set-up. Sero dragged it over to Todoroki’s desk and flopped down into it.

Over the next twenty minutes, they reviewed that day’s lessons (apparently it’s like, good practice to review what you’ve learned that same day, which was annoying, but Sero’s grades had been going up, so whatever). Todoroki explained over and over until Sero actually understood how to convert Cartesian coordinates to polar coordinates. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to explain so many times if Sero had listened carefully, but, well, it was hard with Todoroki talking to him in the soothing, patient tone he took on when he was teaching. He just looked so cute with his brow furrowed, thinking up a new way to explain a concept that would penetrate Sero’s thick skull. Sero liked to think he had built up a tolerance to buff, attractive men over his nearly-three years at U.A., but he was still weak to Todoroki’s hands, to the way his tight t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders.

The fact that he was cold as shit wasn't helping him focus either. Faint shadows of falling snow danced along the translucent paper walls of the shoji screen, taunting him.

But hey, at least he vaguely understood the polar coordinate system.

“You know, you’re pretty good at this,” Sero said after he finally solved a difficult math problem all on his own. “I bet the others would die to get their hands on your notes.”

“Guess they’ll die, then.”

Sero snickered. “That’s rough, dude.”

Todoroki shrugged. “I’m not going to put effort into something I don’t like to do when I know they won’t appreciate it.��

Sero freezes. “Wait - you don’t like tutoring?”

“Well - ”

“Oh shit, am I making you do something you hate? Bro, why didn’t you tell me, I wouldn’t have - ”

“It’s different when it’s you,” Todoroki said sharply.

Sometimes, it was hard to tell when Todoroki was joking, or if he was actually serious. The look in those blue-brown eyes, though, showed his resolve loud and clear.

Todoroki immediately averted his eyes. “I like helping you,” he muttered, “so it’s fine.”

“Oh.”

Not for the first time, Sero wondered: why him? Todoroki had many other friends ...maybe friends that were smarter than he was and didn’t need tutoring, granted, but other friends he could be hanging out with. What’s the appeal? Was it his wonderfully terrible sense of humor? Was it the muscles he totally wasn't showing off? Was it because they shared the same taste in manga (oh yeah - he should ask Todoroki if he finished with week’s Shonen Champion)? Was it because he, unlike at least half of their year, was capable of talking at a normal volume? Over his time at U.A., Sero had gained more confidence in himself than he ever thought he would, but when it came to Todoroki, he still felt...small. Unsure if the light that shone from a great hero like Todoroki drowned out his own little spark.

Usually things between them were pretty chill, but after that comment, a weird kind of tension settled over the room. Not bad, just quiet, like when there's a sleeping cat on your laps and you're afraid any movement will wake it.

Pretty soon, though, Sero began to shiver. He couldn’t help it - there was a winter storm outside, apparently, and he was in a tank top and jorts, and seriously, did  no one  turn the heat on? Did no one turn the heat on  and  the AC miraculously began working again?

Todoroki was staring at him, too. God, he must have thought Sero was some kind of pansy, getting cold so easily, unable to regulate his own temperature like  some  people (though he guessed in that case, most people would be pansies to Todoroki).

13) Convert 2x−5x   3   =1+xy into polar coordinates.

Sero tapped his pen against his paper. Todoroki’s gaze followed the movement, then returned to his face. Sero could practically feel his impatience.

Sero put his pen down and stretched his arms over his head. Todoroki looked away.  Got’em.  

“You know...” Sero said. Todoroki glanced back at him. “...staring at me isn’t going to help me solve this stupid question any faster.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Todoroki said, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Sero grinned. Anyone who knew him well can tell you that the Cool and Cold hero Shouto was just as petty as any mortal. Probably pettier, in fact. “You totally were.”

Todoroki frowned. “You were shivering.”

“Yeah, wonder why.”

Todoroki’s gaze shifted over to him. He looked Sero up and down. Sero tried and failed not to shiver. Todoroki’s clenched jaw softed and his eyes smiled and he stared - this time, he  was definitely staring - Sero felt his face heating up (well, that’s one way to get warm).

Wordlessly, Todoroki got up and sat down next to him on the beanbag. Sero fell against him, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, the tips of Todoroki’s braid tickling his shoulder.

Sero froze up (pun intended). His heart pounded in his ears. But he knew what Todoroki was doing, so he didn’t feel guilty as he curled into his side, basking in the warmth like a cat in a strip of sunlight. And the warmth from Todoroki’s left side began to melt him down.  

He pressed his cheek against Todoroki’s shoulder and said, “I thought you didn’t like people using you as a space heater.”

“Most people.”

Sero smirked. “So you’re saying I’m special?”

Todoroki looked at him and smiled. “Didn’t I say that earlier?”

Ohhhh man oh fuck. How could he just say that, looking at him like that, like he was more than just the plainest guy in class, like he really was special? Sero was known for keeping his cool, for being the chillest dude in the group, but with someone as special as Todoroki looking at him like  he’s  special…fuck.

“I mean, well, like that was just about tutoring and not, you know - ”  nearly sitting in my fucking lap,   “  - sharing personal space.”

“You looked cold,” Todoroki said. He could feel Todoroki’s breath on his cheek. “I didn’t want you to be distracted.”

“I’m a lot more distracted now.”

A part of him cringed as the words left his mouth. Oh god, why did I say that, was that even sexy?  But another part of him pushed that part down and shushed it. This is the opening we’ve been waiting for, it said. Even if Todoroki turned him down, at least he could graduate without any regrets. Maybe he could even tell his grandkids that he once received a  personal  rejection from the great hero Shouto.

“Oh.” Todoroki said, shoulder tensing where Sero leaned against him. Sero braced himself mentally, the same way he did before he launched himself off a building, preparing for the inevitable gut-plunge as he swooped toward the ground. “...me too.”

And there’s the thrill of the upward swing.

Sero was an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t have shot his shot if he’d thought he had no chance. Still, hearing Todoroki say he feels it too took him by surprise in the best way possible. Like tasting the sweet tang of umiboshi in the center of a plain-looking onigiri. Like acing a test you thought you failed. Like snow in June.

The air between them was electric but still. Did that count as admitting their feelings? What should he say now? Where were they supposed to go from here? All Sero wanted to do his grab Todoroki’s hand and hold his stupid pretty face in his hands and kiss him silly, but they should probably like, talk about things -

“Hanta.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Oh thank fuck - yes please.”

And then he was kissing Todoroki Shouto, son of number one hero Endeavor, one of the Big Three most promising students at the most prestigious hero school in the country. His lips were soft but clumsy, shy but adamant as he pressed against him. Sero cupped his face and felt the slight inhale of Shouto’s gasp. Despite being pinned down by the weight of Shouto’s chest on his and trapped between the strong forearms framing his face, the light that perpetually emanated from the great hero Shouto wasn’t overwhelming. Sero was warmed by his light instead of cowed by it. In that moment, Shouto’s light drew out the best in him - and his little spark ignited.  

Yet, that question that always nagged him surfaced again: Why me?      

As Shouto’s kisses began to trail down his neck, Sero figured he could ask why later - when Shouto wasn’t busy showing him it’s you, it’s you.      

Even with the frozen tundra battering just outside, Sero was burning up again.

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 55: Friends Helping Friends

Presenting the next chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Due to scheduling things, this is being simultaneously posted here and AO3!

This chapter and earlier ones can be found here

“So who should we do for our project?”

Kenta looked up from his math textbook and the notes spread out on his desk.  He, Takuma, and Kimiko were all studying in his room.  It was the least cluttered and busy of their three rooms, without Kimiko’s plushies and martial arts equipment or the eye-searing and garish decorations that filled Takuma’s.  Other than Shoji’s, it was probably the most boring room in the dormitory. At least he had stuff in his, mostly a few posters and some family photos. Pretty basic, but it was his.

“I asked what we should do for our project,” Takuma said.  He was sitting on the floor, a book on his lap and a notepad next to him.

“What project?” Kenta asked.

“Our Hero History project?” Takuma prompted.  “From Skyline’s class today?  A presentation on a Pro Hero who made a significant contribution to society, either through good actions or bad behavior?”

“Oh, right,” he replied. “That.”

His pink-skinned friend held his gaze for a minute.  “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

Kenta let out a sigh. “Yeah, sorry, nothing.”

Kimiko, sitting on his bed, gave him a look.  He couldn’t see her eyes or expression, of course, but he could practically feel the concern radiating off her. There was a slight denting on the collar of her shirt, which told him she was tilting her head.  One sleeve came up.  Was she maybe pointing?   “You okay, Kenta?” she asked.  “You’ve been kind of spacey ever since you got back last night.”

He frowned.  “You guys have your sessions with Hound Dog yet?”  

“During English today,” Kimiko said.  She tensed. “You did notice I was gone, didn’t you?”

Kenta swallowed hard. “I didn’t.  Sorry, Kimmie.”   He felt bad about that.  Kimiko tried so hard to make sure she was noticed, and he hadn’t even realized she was gone.   Sure, he’d kind of been sleepwalking through the day, but he didn’t feel like that was any kind of excuse.

“Kenta!” she yelled, arms flailing, “how could you just miss me like that!  I oughta….”

She trailed off.   Kenta guessed he must have looked distressed enough to prevent a full on rant and swat.   There was some small blessing in that.  Kimiko wasn’t that tall, but she was fit and packed a lot of power behind her smacks.   He was surprised Takuma didn’t have brain damage from all the times she’d gone upside his head.

Though she never did seem to smack him as hard she did him.

She arms dropped to her lap. “It was fine.  I really didn’t see much of anything.  Just one of those things when me and Doctor Izumi got closer to the hospital.  I made us invisible and Mister Aoyama zapped the hell out of it.  Thing sure was ugly though.  But I got cleared right away.”

“Me too,” Takuma said. “During Science.  Tsukuyomi did pretty much all the lifting and just tore the one we were fighting apart.  Scary, kinda gross.  But I wasn’t in any danger.”

Keta wondered if wasn’t noticing how his voice was shaking with that. But his best friend’s lighter nature returned almost immediately.  “Please tell me you noticed,” Takuma continued.  “Because I sit right next to you.”

Kenta squirmed uncomfortably.  

“Bro.” Takuma gave him an incredulous look.

“Seriously, Kenta, what’s going on?” Kimiko asked.  “This isn’t like you.  You’re usually the one keeping us focused.”

Well, how was he supposed to answer that?  That he’d used his Quirk on what he’d thought had been a living thing?  That he couldn’t get the taste of its freakish (false?) flesh out of his mouth?  That he’d been scared he was going to die?   That if he had a better or more impressive Quirk, he wouldn’t have nearly died?

How about the fact that he’d been planning on asking Kimiko out before everything turned to shit? He’d gone from riding a victory high after helping to beat that gunk villain to being scared out of his mind just days later.

Suneater and Nejire-Chan said he’d saved their lives.

So why didn’t he feel like a Hero?

“It’s nothing,” he said, trying to change the subject.  “So, you said we’ve got a report?”

Unfortunately, his attempts at diversion did not work and just got both of them staring at him intently.   “”It’s not nothing,” Takuma said, crossing his arms.  The frown looked badly out of place on his pink face.  “You’ve been out of it all day.”

Kenta looked away.  “I really don’t…”

“Bro,” Takuma said again.  “I’m your best friend.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry, Kimmie, but it’s true.  You’re a real close second, though.  But Kenta, we’re your friends.  We’ve been through some shit together.  That time we tried to hide a kitten in your room.  The cookie fiasco.  Mrs. Tendo’s math class.”

Left unspoken was the death of his mother, but Kenta knew it was there all the same.  Takuma, Kimiko, Akaya, they’d all been there, as much as five year olds could, when his mom had been killed.  And the friendships there had stayed ever since.  

“Talk to us,” Takuma said, softly.

Kimiko moved over to his side of the room.  “Aw, Kenta,” she began. Some inner warning system told him to flinch, which was wise, because the next thing he knew, she was hitting him, smacking him across the arms and shoulders with her hands.  “If you don’t tell us what’s wrong, I’m going to beat the stuffing out of you!  We’re your friends! If there’s something wrong with you, we wanna know about it!  Why don’t you talk to us?!”

“Kimmie!  You’re gonna leave bruises!”  Takuma grabbed her arm before she could hit him again, and pulled her slightly away.  

Kenta rubbed his arm where she’d been smacking him.  “No, she’s right.  You’re… both right.  I shouldn’t…”

He looked down.  The floor was more comfortable than having to look two of the people who mattered most to him in the eyes.  “I nearly died, guys.”  He heard gasps from both of them.  Kimiko didn’t even protest that she was “not a guy.”  

Kenta sucked in a breath. “That Nomu knocked out Suneater and then Nejire-Chan. She hit her head.  I was pretty sure she was dead, until I saw her breathing.  But it kept coming. I thought for sure it was going to kill her, then me.  Or some combination of that.  So I… I took a bite out of it.”

He shook his head.  “I was pretty sure it was alive.  Or as alive as something like that could be. Not a robot.  But I still did it.  Because I thought it was the only way to get out of there alive. And then I tried to hightail it out of there with Nejire-Chan.  But it kept following us, even with half its calve missing.  If Deku hadn’t shown up… she’d be dead, I’d be dead, and then it probably would have gone back and finished off Suneater.”

He was aware, suddenly, that he was sobbing. Kenta held his head in his hands.  “We’d all be dead and Dad…   Dad’d be all alone…  Maybe if I was stronger or had a better Quirk or…”

Arms wrapped around him, Takuma’s wiry ones and Kimiko’s fit ones.  A group hug.  “Oh, Kenta,” Kimiko said.  “We had no idea.”

“Dude,” Takuma added, “you can’t just keep this stuff to yourself.  We’re your friends.  We’re the ones you’re supposed to tell this stuff to.

“And besides,” he went on, causing Kenta to look up, “do you know how much time we’ve invested in your social media presence?  All of that’d be wasted if you got killed.”  He had on his “good idea grin,” the one he always did when he was trying to convince someone to go along with his ideas and trying to push the charm. It rarely ever worked.

This time, though, Kenta found himself laughing.  Slowly at first, but then faster, louder, until he was laughing as hard as he’d been sobbing, and the tears of pain he’d cried turned to tears of joy.  When Kimiko and Takuma released him, he wiped his eyes.  “Oh, man,” he said, feeling lighter for the first time since Saturday morning, “I needed that.  Thanks, both of you.”

“Anytime, Bro,” Takuma said.

“What’re friends for?” Kimiko asked.   “But if you ever pull anything like that again…”   She raised an arm, menacingly.

“’Make Kimiko go whacko, you get the smacko,’” Kenta repeated from memory.

“Damn right you will,” she said firmly.  

“The three of us,” Takuma said, “we’re together to the end.  No matter what.”

He could still hear the Nomu’s roar.  Still smell its fetid breath.  Still taste its putrid flesh in his mouth.  Still feel the fear threatening to drive his heart from his chest.

But now, it all felt just a little more distant.  And maybe, just maybe, he was a little more determined to tell Kimiko how he felt. After nearly dying, there were way worse things than maybe being a little embarrassed.

Worst she’d probably do was smack him.

***

“Thanks, both of you, for coming,” Kana Tetsutetsu said, walking up the stairs to the fourth floor of the Class 1-B dormitory.  She let out a weary sigh. “I’ve tried talking to him, but he practically hid from everyone at lunch and he holed up in his room immediately after class.”

“Anything for ‘Ro,” Mika said.  “He’s been ignoring me too, for what it’s worth.  I was about to send him some steamy pics when you called.  See if that worked.”  

She had a really great bikini for it too.  Combined with her rocking bod, it was guaranteed to get some kind of response out of anyone female-attracted. She should still probably send some of those to Shinji.  He was on a social media lockdown as part of his punishment for flying to the rescue across Japan (And how romantic was that?), but texts should still count…

“Maybe you should try sending Haimawari some, Kana,” she said.  “Guys like those things.  Keeps the fire in the relationship.”

“We’ve texted and watched some movies together,” Kana said, sounding annoyed.  “He’s a nice guy—and he is cute—but we’re definitely not at that stage yet.  And Mika…”

“Yes?”

“Stop hitting on him or I’ll break your legs.”

Mika like out a frightened eep.  “Yes, ma’am,” she said.

“Should you not tell your Homeroom Teacher?” Akaya asked, trying to drag the subject back to the actual reason they were there.  It wasn’t Mika’s fault so many things lead to sexual or relationshipal thoughts!  “The welfare of students is his job.  Or perhaps your mother?  She is a close family friend.”

Kana shook her head, setting her orange-red ponytail swaying.  “Getting Fujii-sensei or Mom involved is just asking for trouble. Plus it might end up on the record, even with Mom.  The line between family friend and teacher gets a little weird.  Plus Mom’d tell his parents and Shiro already feels like he’s here hanging on by a thread.  Who knows what would happen if he thought it was getting worse.”

Mika was definitely glad her mom wasn’t a UA teacher.  She needed freedom to pursue her various interests, like boys.  And girls.  And other individuals to which she was attracted.  Having that much scrutiny around all the time during your teenage years couldn’t be good for you.

“Understandable,” Akaya said.  “But if Shiro is so deeply troubled, I would prefer he get the help he needs, regardless of what it may mean for his career.  Still… perhaps we can convince him to seek the help himself.”

“Thanks,” Kana said, opening the stairwell door.  “Fukidashi says he’s “undergoing character development,” but that’s pretty par for the course for her nonsense.”  Even Mika would admit that Anime sometimes didn’t make a lot of sense.

“Think it has something to do with his Internship?” Mika asked.  

Shiro had interned with Red Riot.  Considering Shiro was hung up on Kirishima-Bakugo, that had to have been awkward.  Wasn’t he supposed to have done some kind of dramatic confession before they started those?  If it had gone well, he’d probably have bragged about it to everyone who would listen, so she could only assume she’d turned him down, but still…

“I asked Shoji what happened,” Akaya said.  “But he said it was not his place to discuss it.”

“Of course he did,” Mike said, rolling her eyes.  “He makes minding his own business a Sports Festival level event.”  Understandable, but not helpful in this particular situation.

Two of the four doors were open, one on either side nearest the stairwell.  In one of them, a very attractive guy who looked like a humanoid bat was strumming on what looked like a heavily modified guitar with his long fingers.  His fur was white, save for a mane of wild blond hair.  She could just imagine him folding his wing-arms around her and…

A tug on her arm brought her back to reality.  “Help friends now, carnal pursuits later,” Akaya cautioned her.    

“I’ll introduce you to Koumori later, if this pans out, okay?” Kana said, giving her the same look other people did when they were fighting the urge to roll their eyes.

If he was interested in music though, maybe she could pass up a hot guy this one time, introduce him to Chihio?  Her best friend was nearly flat as a board, so she needed a different hook to get a guy… Chi did have good legs and a great ass (She noticed these things, even if she’d never hit on her best friend), so throw in a mutual interest…

From the doorway of the other open room, a large young man—He had to be nearly three meters tall!—poked his head out.  “Everything okay, Tetsutetsu?” he asked.  

“I don’t know yet, Fukui,” Kana told him.  “Have you seen Shiro today?  Outside of class, I mean.”

The big guy shook his head. “I think I saw him go down and get some food, but that’s it.  He was doing that sneaky ninja creep thing he does.”

Kana just sighed and pinched her nose again.  “Of course, he did.  Thank you, Fukui.”

“Yes, thank you,” Akaya added.  She gave him a little wave.  “Hello, Fukui.”

The big guy smiled and returned the wave.  “Hi, Koda. Still planning on joining us in the garden this weekend?”

“If time and weather permit.”

Mika looked between the two. She knew they were friends, but were they friends or “friends”?  None of her usual radar was going off, so probably just the former.  And also not relevant to the task at hand!  If she didn’t get any action on this trip, nobody did!

***

Shiro’s room was at the end of the hall, on the left.  Kana knocked on it.  “Shiro! Open up!”  

Silence greeted her.   She knocked again.  “Shiro, this is me as your friend, not as your classmate or Class Rep.  Open up. Please.”

A muffled sound came from within.  It sounded a bit like “Go away.”

Kana threw her hands up in the air.  “Argh. He’s power sulking, I just know it. He was doing this before the Internships too.”

Yeah, that definitely suggested whatever had happened with Kirishima-Bakugo hadn’t gone well.  Poor Shiro.  There was a sweet guy under all that ego.  He’d definitely treated her like a princess when they’d been dating.

Kana turned to Akaya. “Okay, your turn.  We’ll try reasonableness.”  

“Shiro,” Akaya said, with that soft voice of hers, like wind through reeds, “Shiro, please.  We are worried about you.  Whatever happened, allow us to share your burdens.”

This too, was met by silence.

Akaya placed a hand on the door.  “Shiro. Please.  I am asking you not to hide from us.”

Silence again greeted them, until the soft sound of footsteps on carpet followed.  The door opened slightly and Mika peered around Akaya’s bulk to a get a look at him.   She would be the first to admit that she was frequently surprised, whether it was by unexpected hotness or Kirishia-Bakugo showing up out of nowhere to yell at her.  But what she saw with Shiro took her breath away.

He looked like he hadn’t slept in a couple of days, with deep, dark bags hanging under his eyes.  He was slouching.  He hadn’t changed out of his uniform, other than to shuck the jacket, so it was it was wrinkled.  He’d allowed his hair to become unkempt.

That was when she realized just how serious this was.

“Holy crap,” Mika said, softly.

“I’m fine, Akaya,” he said, not looking her in the eyes.  “Just tired.”

“Kana was worried about you,” Akaya said.  “And I see now that she was right to be so.  You are very much not yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” Shiro insisted.  It looked very much like he’d been crying.  And like he hadn’t even been doing his skin care regime!  “If you’ll excuse me, Akaya, it’s nice of you to check on me.  But I’m in the middle of something.”

Mika could just see into Shiro’s room.  The vaguely French décor, the expansive hair care set up, it looked just like the last time she had been in his room (It had been entirely platonic, despite how she kept dropping things and had to keep bending over to pick them up.), except for the suitcases on the floor.  It was entirely possible, given his depressive state, that he had never unpacked. It would have been unlike his usual collected self, but possible under current circumstances.  Except for the fact that most of his dresser drawers appeared to be open.  And empty.

“What,” she said, “the actual fuck?!”

She quickly became aware that she must have been rather loud, because Akaya, Kana, and Shiro were all staring at her.   Even the other boys on the floor had come out of their rooms to see.  Fortunately for her, she didn’t care.

She pushed past Akaya and shoved Shiro into his room, roughly.  “I’ve got this.”

The door slammed shut behind her.

***

Mika gave Shiro another shove further into the room, and then one more, to knock him onto the bed. She pointed at him and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.  Trembling with rage, she forced herself to be able to speak.

“What.  The Hell. Is wrong with you?” she demanded, going back to pointing.   “Are you giving up?  Quitting?  Since when the hell do you do that?!”

She realized he was staring at her, eyes wide, a frighten expression on his face, shaking like a leaf.   “Hey, no, no,” Mika said quickly, joining him on the bed.  She put her arms around him.  Under most circumstances, she’d have pulled his head to her bosom, but it didn’t seem like it would work here.  “I’m not mad. Okay, yes, I am mad at you. Because you got me all worried. But why are you leaving?”

“Because I don’t belong here.”

“The hell you don’t.”

Shiro gestured to his desk, where some of his things were still out.  A deck of playing cards, a set of lock picks, even a twirling baton. A small pair of hand weights sat on the floor, and DVDs of Heroes in action in hand-lettered cases occupied a significant section of the bookshelf.

“Did you know there’s a running bet among some of the other courses as to whether or not I even have a Quick?  Do you know how hard I have to work, just to keep up with people with real powers?  Just because I can move like Eraserhead or copy Gunhead’s moves doesn’t mean I’ve got any of their strength unless I work at it.  All the time.  So I’ve worked for years to be able to keep up.”

He closed his eyes. “And when I was out in the field… when that monster attacked… my Quirk and body betrayed me.  It might have been a robot, but cloaked in dead skin, all I could see was how profoundly wrong it was.  Not like Ojiro or Fukidashi, they’re just blind spots.  But just pure, unadulterated, unnaturalness.  And I knew, in that moment, no matter what I did… there was nothing I could have done that would have even slowed it down for a moment.”

His eyes snapped open, tears trailing down his cheeks.  “I froze! Shoji had to carry me out of there, like a child!  I could have run, I could have done anything, but instead, I was exactly what they always used to say I was… a useless kid with a useless, fake Quirk, deluding himself about being a Hero!”

Mika blinked slowly, processing everything Shiro had just unloaded on her.  She knew he had plenty of crisises of confidence.  She remembered comforting him after he’d lost at the Sports Festival.  She remembered the many times where he’d wondered if he was good enough.

But she had never seen him as broken as he was right now.  Self-doubt was one thing, he had wanted to be talked out of those bouts.  She wasn’t sure he did right now.

“So I might as well pack my things.  Maybe they can give my spot to a Gen Ed kid like Kocho.  Somebody who’ll do something with it.  It’s not too late to take up a career as a street performer.”

Mika frowned.  Kana would have had some words of encouragement. Akaya would have had something deep and thoughtful to add to the conversation.  Even Kirishima-Bakugo would have known what to say here, though her answer probably would have been “Suck up and get over it.”  Unfortunately, Mika was none of those people, so she was going to have to improvise.

“Okay,” she said, “first, I’m going to need the names of whoever’s organizing these bets.  Because I need to adjust the hoof to ass ratio around here something fierce.”

He gave her an incredulous look.  “That’s your takeaway from this?”

“Look, I don’t have a lot of tools here, Shiro.  So ass kicking on your behalf seems like a good start.”

“You’re impossible, you know that?” he said.  “But even if you beat them all up, it doesn’t change anything.”

She gave him a small poke in the chest with her finger.  “Listen to me, Shiro.  You’re going to stay here, and you’re going to be a big damn Hero.  And do you know why?”

He gave a little laugh. “Because you’ll adjust my ass to hoof ratio?”

“No,” she said. “Well, yes, if this moping thing keeps up.  But that’s not why.  It’s because you’re a spiteful little bastard who never let anybody tell him what he can and can’t do.  And if you think you can’t cut it… then do it to spite yourself.”

This got another laugh, one that was quickly replaced by a frown. “You realize that made no sense? And it still doesn’t change anything.”

“Got you to forget your problems for a minute, didn’t I?” Mika asked.   “You change your mind yet?”

“No.”

Her eyes widened.  “What?”

Shiro shook his head. “As… refreshing as this chat’s been, I’m still the guy who froze up when he should have acted.”  

She was rapidly running out of ideas here.  “How’s your class going to get by without you?”

“Kana is the Representative. She’ll do a fine job, even without me. She might not have quite the same competitive spirit I do, but she’s got enough of one to ensure they won’t fall behind.”

“The term’s not over and you won’t be able to transfer anywhere, even to a non-Hero school, without a complete transcript.”

He opened and closed his mouth.  “…Dammit.”

“Stay at least that long?” she asked.  “Please?”

“For the sake of my academics, yes.”

“Great!  That gives me a few weeks to work with!”

He just shook his head. “You’re really not giving up on me, are you?”

“Of course not,” she told him, leaning over to give him a little peck on the cheek.  

She really didn’t know how to solve this.  This was every problem Shiro had had turned up to eleven.  Being rejected on top of having his perceived weaknesses brought to the forefront…  There really wasn’t a good way to get past that.  At least, not that she could see right now.  Maybe Akaya or Kana or Anime could think of something.

But she could be there. And she’d bought herself a little time.

***

“Hey, ah, can we come in?”

The voice at the door snapped Katsumi’s attention out of her math homework.  Or rather, her attempts at her homework.  She wasn’t exactly having an easy time focusing on the numbers and formulae.  The more she tried to concentrate, the more it all ran away from her and sent her spiraling down dark paths.  

At least Izzy and Toshi were giving her space.  They’d both assured her they were here for her if she needed them, but knew to let her process it all in her own way.  Though Izzy was extremely insistent that she unburden herself somehow, to someone. Still unable to say no to Izzy, she’d said she would.  Which meant she’d have to deal with this sooner or later.  Because while she was many things, she wasn’t a liar.  

“Kirishima-Bakugo?” a second voice, this one male,  joined the first.  “You going to give us an answer?”

“Katsumi.”

That last one definitely got her attention.  She turned and saw Sero and Kaminari standing in her doorway.  She gave them a glare and both squawked.  Sero actually took an awkward step backwards, losing his balance and falling on his ass.  Kaminari let out an equally terrified squeak, her Extension Cords standing upright and sending off sparks.  “Kaminari, we definitely aren’t close enough to be to be using my first name,”

“We used to be,” Kaminari said as she helped Sero back to his feet.

“Yeah,” Sero said. “Bakusquad Generation Two!  What happened to that?”

Her glare must be getting weak.  They were still there and still talking.  “Because you two got dumb as fuck.”  

They weren’t wrong. They’d been friends, once, when they were children and when they were pre-teens.  But then Sero got obsessed with internet fame and Kaminari had started listening to Mineta more and more, where Katsumi remained one hundred percent focused on her goal of being a Hero.  So they’d drifted apart.  Kaminari, she saw more often still, since she was also friends with Izzy, but it was never quite the same.

They weren’t friends, but they were still…  Something. She wasn’t sure what the word was. Classmates, at least.  Family friends, sure.  And she’d put them ahead of Horse-Girl or the Glowstick on the list of people she tolerated, so there was that.

“Right,” Sero said, unfazed by her barb.  “And you got terrifying beyond all reason.  You know, the usual.”

“So can we come in or not?” Kaminari asked.

“Is there any answer I can give that would make you go away?”

They exchanged a look. “Nope,” Sero said.

“Nope,” Kaminari added.

“Nope!” both said at once.

“No,” Katsumi said, because some things had to be tried, no matter how futile they were.  She wasn’t surprised when they ignored her and came in anyway.

“Dig the posters,” Kaminari said, looking at the posters for the heavy metal bands on her walls.  “Scream Girls?  Great sound. You’ve got good taste.”

“I’ve heard about them,” Sero said.  “Loud, angry-sounding lesbians in leather costumes.  I can total see why you dig them, Kirishima-Bakugo.”

Katsumi gave him a look that would peel paint.  He panicked appropriately, flailing his hands in an apologetic gesture.  “N..not that there’s anything wrong with that!  Kind of loud for me, though.  I gotta go with the Nyan-Band myself.  Their stuff’s catchy!”

This time, both Katsumi and Kaminari gave him a look.  “You’re an idiot,” Kaminari said.

“Dumbass,” Katsumi said.

There was a brief pause as Katsumi exchanged a look with Kaminari.  It said “in this moment, I respect that you are not Sero.”

“So seriously, what are you two doing here?” she demanded.  “Other than lowering the average IQ in the room?”

“Look, it’s like you said, we’re not really friends anymore,” Sero said.  “Not close, anyway.  But all our families are still friends.  We were worried about you and your dad.”

“Yeah,” Kaminari said. She frowned, which Katsumi admitted looked out of place on her features.  She was a dumbass, but Kaminari was usually cheerful.  “Um, I just… remember when Dad was hurt.  Back in the day.  And how messed up it all was even back then.  So now…”

Back when Papa had been hurt.  And Uncle Tetsutetsu had been hurt.  And Sato had lost his mother.  Lots of people had been hurt on that one.  Kaminari’s dad had been stabbed.  A lot.  When they hadn’t been sure if they were going to lose Papa…

At least in the here and now, they had a guarantee that Dad was going to be all right.  Him living wasn’t a question.  But how well he’d take to, well, pretty much anything, was still up in the air.  She’d talked to both her parents today.  Lots of physical therapy for Dad, so he could at least be fitted for a normal prosthetic eventually, even if he couldn’t use his Quirk with it.  Papa was also trying to get him to talk to a real therapist… it wasn’t going well.

Of course, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to her own sessions with Hound Dog either.  Because she was pretty sure she wasn’t getting away with just one.  The school therapist probably had a thing about people suppressing their uncomfortable emotions and channeling them for violence.  Some stupid rule about not using “unhealthy coping mechanisms.”

“He’s… he’s healing,” Katsumi said, hoping they didn’t notice the hesitancy in her voice.  The last thing she needed was for either of them to stop being afraid of her.  “Still a way’s away from being discharged though.”

“Eeesh,” Sero said. “Rough.  Mom said Dad’s going home tomorrow.  Gotta take it easy for a while though.”

“Dad went home to day,” Kaminari said.  “He actually got off pretty easy.”

Katsumi clenched a fist and gritted her teeth.  She wasn’t going to snap at them.  She wasn’t going to yell.  She wasn’t going to protest the unfairness of it all.  It was all part of the risks of being a Hero.  But damn, she wanted to.

“Still,” Sero said, “good to hear about your dad.  When we heard what had happened to him…”

“Got pretty scared,” Kaminari said.  “Somebody like him can get hurt like that…  Somebody we know and who took care of us as kids…”

Yeah.  A big name Hero like Dad getting hurt, that was shocking. Brought them down to normal suddenly, deleted the myth of invincibility.   But she’d learned that lesson early.

Didn’t make it hurt any less right now.  Or make her worry go away.

“So…,” Kaminari went on, as an awkwardness hung in the air.  She gestured vaguely with her Cords, hands stuffed into the pockets of her pants. “We just wanted to say we’re here if you need us.”

“Just wanna talk, or whatever,” Sero said.  He held up a finger.  “Or even if you just want to yell at us.  That always seems to make you happy.”

A free pass at that?   A grin slowly spread over Katsumi’s face.  “I just might have to take you up on that,” she said.  “…But not when you’re expecting it.”

“So what you’re saying is we’ve got a free shot at annoying you now?” Sero asked.  “Because I could totally film that.  Simmering kettle, I’ll call it…”

Katsumi just rolled her eyes.  “Under no circumstances.”

“Yeah, okay,” Kaminari said, tugging on Sero’s arm to get him moving toward the door.  “Let’s get out of here before you get us both killed. But we meant it, Kirishima-Bakugo. You need us, talk to us.”

Maybe she would. Maybe she would.

[itsclydebitches]

The call came at 1:08 on an August afternoon.

“Package for Aziraphale, Principality, angel of the Flaming Sword, Guardian of the Eastern Gate?”

All activity in the bookshop ceased. Though there wasn’t much of it to begin with. One young woman using an outlet to charge her cell and an even younger boy who’d ditched his mother three stores down. The dusty—potentially cursed?—tomes in Aziraphale’s shop were a whole lot more interesting than makeup and she wouldn’t notice his absence for some time yet. It was the boy who scrunched up his nose and demanded,

“Who?”

The man settled against the door-jamb. Package in one hand, clipboard in the other. “Aziraphale. Principality. Angel of the—”

“Yes, yes, that would be me. Thank you!”

A mess of white curls popped out from behind a tower of books, followed by a pudgy body and wringing hands. Aziraphale only released his own fingers to grab hold of the boy and the woman, gently (but insistently) urging them out of the shop. The woman was only just able to grab her phone before she was unceremoniously tossed across the threshold. The boy protested. Both stared as the postman gave a jaunty wave.

The door shut with a distinct click.

“Was that really necessary?”

Aziraphale liked to consider himself a dignified, level-headed sort of fellow. Had Crowley been in the room he would have announced that he was just pouting, plain and simple. Luckily, the postman didn’t put any more stock into that faux glare than a demon would have.

He shrugged. “Part of the job I’m afraid. Names are important. You know that.”

“...Yes. I suppose I do.”

Not just important. Names were arguably the greatest vessels for divine power currently in existence. Next to the Almighty herself, of course. Before Aziraphale had been given anything else—his orders, his sword, even the knowledge that he loved his siblings—he’d been given his name. Four syllables spoken in Enochian by Her, reverberating through all of Heaven, letting the rest of existence know that another angel had just come into the world. Names were lost when one Fell. They could be broken or warped or even, on the rare occasion, healed into something new. Yes, Aziraphale knew the power of names. Which was why the first thing he did after reprimanding the postman was to ask him his own.

The postman spoke it, letting it settle among the books and onto an angel’s ears. Aziraphale smiled.

“Very nice,” he commented, pouring cocoa from a kettle that hadn’t been there before. The weather was just ghastly and if anyone deserved a hot drink it was the civil servant running about in two feet of snow. “Marshmallows?”

“Of course.”

“Whipped cream?”

“Why not.”

“Sprinkles?”

“Well if we’ve gone this far...”

As the sweets piled high the postman observed that this was what he loved most about his job: the human interaction. Funny then that he should only get that today with someone who was, undoubtably, not human. It wasn’t just the order slip arriving in a circle of fire over his eggs that had cued him in. There was something about the density of air in this shop. A hum that was only just audible; how the light seemed to follow Aziraphale wherever he went, bending in accordance to him, not physics. Yes, the postman had grown quite adept at spotting the occult and the ethereal—the in-between too. Summoning up the Four Horsemen, dying, and coming back thanks to the antichrist would do that to a man.

It seemed his reputation preceded him. Aziraphale handed over the cocoa with a wariness not normally attributed to package deliveries. In the postman’s experience they usually generated quite the opposite effect.

He took the drink and traded it for the clipboard. “No worries. Just a normal delivery. Sign there please.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrow disappeared into his hair. “Is there such a thing when it comes to us? A normal delivery?”

“Sure! I’d like to think so, anyway.”

“My apologies then. You’re not the only visitor I’ve had recently so I suppose I’m a little... on edge.”

“Right,” the postman said. “Understandable. Ah—! Full name please.”

With a wince Aziraphale set down the pen he’d picked up, wiping his sweating palm down the side of his vest. He then twisted his fingers, not unlike a magician summoning up a coin. A holy light appeared between his thumb and pointer and the postman looked away as it burned into the paper.

The cocoa was, of course, extravagantly delicious. None of that powdered stuff in hot water. He could taste real chocolate melted down into the milk, just bitter enough to offset all the sweets on top. The postman took a slurp that left whipped cream across his nose as Aziraphale bent to inspect the box.

Nothing extravagant there. All browns and beige. Squishy edges.

“Other visitors?” he asked, bending close to inspect the letter opener Aziraphale had pulled from between the pages of The Sickness Unto Death. There were a pair of wings that arched up and seemed to hover over the blade. “Don’t tell me your superiors are still mad about that Armageddon business?”

Aziraphale paused. Blinked. “It was less than a month ago.”

“Yes, well.” The postman shrugged, giving a lopsided smile. “Habit from the missus, I guess. No arguments allowed to go on longer than a day. Past that it’s just time to stew, not think.”

“Oh. I quite like that,” and Aziraphale sliced through the tape with practiced ease. “Not sure I’d ever get my—er, that side to agree to such a thing though. I’m sure they’re still plenty mad. But no, it wasn’t them.”

The postman nodded, satisfied with that. There were only so many ‘them’s that might have stopped by in the aftermath of the world not ending. The postman could think of four groups, of which he was one. Not terribly hard to figure out then, but also not the sort of thing you wanted to say aloud. Not if it wasn’t necessary. As established, names held power.

“Not sure I’d want to invoke one of them without a package to deliver,” he muttered. Aziraphale hummed in the back of his throat.

On the small table before them the tape continued to part, easy as butter. Beneath that were the mounds of bubblewrap and tissue employed for the most fragile of objects. Aziraphale took a fortifying sip of his cocoa before setting to parting each one, taking his time, wary of creases. Anyone who had tried to pop into the shop right then—and a quick miracle assured they did not—would have thought the two were bent over a bomb, so tense were the lines of their shoulders. Aziraphale in particular had to stop halfway through and mop his forehead with a handkerchief.

After all, the package was addressed to him.

Quite obviously, in fact. Once he’d reached the bottom.

“Too small a box for your sword,” the postman said, clearly fishing. Aziraphale obediently lifted the object over the wrappings so he could see.

It was a medal.

“Very nice!” he said. “...isn’t it?”

“I’ve seen this before,” Aziraphale said, speaking each word slowly. Tasting them. He suddenly snapped his fingers, nearly dropping the medal in the process. “I have seen this before! 1800. The opening of my shop.” He gestured, as if the postman might not believe that there was, in fact, a bookshop in existence around them, right this very moment. “A, uh... family member tried to give it to me when I thought I was being recalled home. Oh good lord.” Aziraphale sucked in a breath. “He didn’t send it, did he?”

“No. Box would have a return address if he had. Even for them.”

“Well, then who doesn’t generate an address?”

They knew the answer. As one Aziraphale and the postman lifted their gaze towards the shop’s ceiling. There was only one person it could have been.

Neither spoke the name though.

***

“Sorry,” Crowley said, later that night after the postman had left with his forms and Aziraphale had invited him to the next gathering at Anathema’s. “But what’s it supposed to mean?”

“You guess is as good as mine, dear boy.”

Crowley’s finger shot out to point accusingly between Aziraphale’s eyes. He was six glasses into the merlot though and, truth be told, it was more of a listless point towards Aziraphale’s shoulder. “My guess is not as good. They’re your lot—”

“Not anymore.”

“—were your lot for a long, long, looooong, long time, so you know their, you know,” Crowley made a series of complicated gestures with his glass. “Ways.”

Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure he did. Slouched in his favorite armchair, watching Crowley waver around the room, he tried to conjure up some heavily things that might make sense of the little package seated between them. He was eight glasses in though—having started while Crowley drove over—so all his brain could manage was a jaunty little jingle he’d heard over the radio yesterday. Something for insurance.

“Maybe,” he finally managed. “Maybe, yes. But not Her ways.”

Crowley conceded that with a grunt.

The medal rested in a velvet box, the same one Gabriel had opened over two-hundred years ago under the erroneous assumption that such a display would please him. The box remained untouched by time despite its age, as did the medal itself. That’s what the craftsmanship of heaven would get you. The only thing that had changed was a new layer of divinity lingering about the edges, seeped into the metal like something more powerful than even an archangel had handled it. Which of course, She had. The traces had sent Crowley scuttering back the first time he’d tried to touch it. Now he circled the box, wary.

“Ugly thing,” he said, hissing the words. “You’d th—thi—think that heaven would have better taste but nope! Nuh uh. Should give them some tips sometime. Interior decorating.” Crowley considered, downing more wine. “Their fashion isn't bad though. Just a little blah.”

Aziraphale’s fuzzy thoughts conjured up a picture of Crowley’s apartment and he resolutely decided against commenting. “Focus, dear. Perhaps this is a good thing.” He tipped his own glass towards the medal. “Gab—he tried to give me that horrid thing when heaven still thought I was doing a good job. So maybe,” Aziraphale gave a massive shrug, upending some of his wine. “Maybe She’s saying the same thing.”

Crowley blinked. “Wha? That She approves?”

“Mmm.” A staggering, hopeful thought.

“Or, or, it’s the opposite like. Said it yourself, angel. Heaven thought you were doing nothin’ but heavily things down here and you got the medal for doing them. The things you weren’t really doing. Payment for services not rendered. Maybe now that’s the message, huh? Get back on the right trickity-track. Or somethin’.”

Aziraphale spent a good two minutes trying to decide if any of that made sense. He eventually decided it did. “It’s a warning to be the angel they thought they were giving the medal to.”

“Right.”

“Isn’t that a bit convoluted?” Aziraphale squinted up at Crowley, now trying to figure out if it was him or the room that had tilted. His living room shrugged.

“Maybe,” Crowley admitted. “Or maybe this is it. Make us wonder and worry and talk in circles until it all comes bubbling out our ears.” He finally collapsed next to Aziraphale on the couch, both of them staring at the heavy bit of metal.

Aziraphale swallowed. “I wouldn’t put it past Her.”

“Exactly. ...Can we send it back, do you think?”

“No return address.”

“Oh. Chuck it into the Thames?”

“Absolutely not.”

What they did end up doing was placing the medal on one of Aziraphale’s shelves, still on display, but far enough back that they could ignore it if they wanted. It never lost the light of Her touch, so Crowley generally kept his distance. For the same reason customers were often drawn to the medal, commenting on it with a curiosity that never ceased to surprise them.

“An antique?” one woman questioned, a week after they’d begun their dance of giving the thing confused and frustrated glances. “What was it for?” She peered a little closer, knowing instinctively not to touch. “It doesn’t say.”

Aziraphale dithered. “Ah...not sure really. Records were lost somewhere along the way. No one knows anymore.”

“That’s too bad. Though I suppose the specifics don’t really matter. The point is it was important enough for someone to save and hand down to you, right?”

The woman smiled, inclining her head and apologizing for taking up so much of his time. Behind her Crowley had paused in surprise, casting the medal a glance. It shone bright, prominent despite their best efforts.

“So She’s thinking of us,” Aziraphale whispered, soft enough that his words were nearly lost among the stacks. “She cares. Which is not quite the same thing as approval, but...”

“Jury’s still out on whether Her caring is a good thing, angel.” But some of the tension had left Crowley’s shoulders. He ambled forward with a liquid grace that let him brush his hand 'accidentally' against Aziraphale’s. Their fingers intertwined.

A defiance, doing that in the circle of the medal’s holy light. Neither pulled away though and when Aziraphale tightened his grip he thought he saw an answering glint in the surface of the metal.

Perhaps that was just their own reflections though. Perhaps it was only what remained of his faith.

Time would tell.

[william-arden]

Holding On

“Daya? Daya, come on!” Daya looks at me from across the bustling terminal. I can’t read her expression. One month ago, I would know everything she was thinking at a glance. Now I’m not so sure. “Daya!” I beckon to her. “We need to move.” She plods towards me, eyes downcast, and rests her head on my hip. “What is it? Are you tired?” She nods at me. I sigh and rub the back of her head. “That’s why you were meant to sleep on the plane, silly. Do you know what time it is in America? It’s noon. You can’t sleep at noon.” She plonks her rear end over my knee. “Come on, lazybones,” I accuse. “Get up. We need to hurry.” In response, Daya wraps her arms around my thigh and winds her small legs over my shin. “Oh, don’t do this now, Daya,” I plead. “The hotel Ma and Ba booked for us won’t let us in if we’re late.” Daya’s tiny fingers tighten their hold on my knee. She screws her eyes shut. That’s how I know that she won’t budge unless I leave her no other option. I roll my eyes and slowly start to lift my leg up. Daya shrieks and tumbles to the ground. I smile, then I notice the eyes tracking me from around the airport. Eyes that quickly come to rest on Daya’s sunken nose and melting eyes. “Fine, Daya. You get your way, just this once. I’ll carry you. Ready? 3… 2… 1.” I pick her up and heft her onto my shoulders, supporting her legs under my arms. She relaxes on my back. “Okay,” I mutter to myself. “Where was I…” “Shnghugh… shnghew,” Daya snores. I can feel her small chest puff on my shoulder. I grimace. “Hey. Hey! I’m letting you sleep on my back. What do you say?” “Thanks, Tani,” she breathes softly in my ear. Daya has gotten better at eating. I remember the first few days after the accident. She’d dangle her spoon over her mouth and tilt the rice in so that she didn’t have to touch the inflamed areas around her lips. I could tell her mouth hurt from opening it so wide, but she never complained. In later weeks, her mouth wasn’t so sensitive, but she was still slow and careful. Now she almost looks normal as she eats. Daya notices me staring and cocks her head. “Is the curry good?” I ask quickly. She nods. Continues eating. After Daya’s scraped her plate clean, I carry her over to her bed and tuck her in. Her room is wide and neat, with her bed placed tightly in the very corner of the room so she can see out the window on the opposite side. It’s a wide view overseeing the speckled lights of the city. My room is identical to hers, except my window’s view gives away nothing of the city except the bland flat wall of an opposite skyscraper. Daya huddles under her sheets. She’s still wearing her orange polka-dot jacket from the plane trip. I don’t even want to imagine how bad it will smell tomorrow morning. “Tani?” I pause at the door. “Yes, Daya?” “We’re seeing the doctor tomorrow, right?” My hands drop by my side. “Yeah. But don’t think about that right now.” “Will he be able to fix my face?” “Your face doesn’t need fixing, Daya, it’s…” My tongue falters. I hesitate. “Um, the doctors over here have a better chance of helping you than anybody else in the entire world.” She blinks at me. I hate it when she does that. It feels like she knows exactly what I’m thinking. She rolls over and closes her eyes. “Goodnight,” I murmur. I close the door gently behind her. After I’ve showered and brushed my teeth, I collapse in front of the TV and switch to the baseball. Ma and Ba have always wondered why I love baseball so much. They ask what exactly is interesting about watching people swinging bats at balls and running around fields. They’re huge fans of cricket though, so I don’t think they can talk. The only teams playing are at the bottom of the ladder. I watch it anyway. I don’t know exactly when I dose off, but I wake with harsh white light shining in my eyes and an incessant tapping at my shoulder. “What is it, Daya?” I mumble. “Can I sleep on the couch with you?” “No. That’s gross.” She climbs on anyway and snuggles up next to me. I’m too tired to protest. “Why are you up so late?” I murmur. “Couldn’t get to sleep.” “What were you thinking about?” Daya doesn’t respond immediately. I can tell she’s mulling a thought around in her head. Eventually she says: “Tani, why does my face have to look so ugly?” I frown and turn around. “Daya, your face isn’t ugly, it’s-” “That’s not what I mean,” Daya says huffily. “I mean, why did my face have to be like this?” I twist uncomfortably. “Well, Daya… It’s the acid-” “That’s not what I mean either,” Daya complains. “I’m asking, why did it have to happen to me?” I think about it for a bit. “You mean, why you, out of everyone?” “Yeah.” “I don’t think there is a reason. I think it was random. I think you were just unlucky.” Daya curls up beside me. “That’s just not fair,” she mutters quietly. It sounds petty, but I know exactly what she’s trying to say. I wrap my arms around her. “No, Daya. It’s not.” “Wow!” Daya gapes. I sigh. “You’re so childish.” She’s staring at the ferris wheel rotating slowly in front of her. Her feet shuffle a little so she’s facing me. For once, I know exactly what she’s thinking. “I’m not going on it with you,” I say quickly. She puffs her lower lip out. “Nope. I’m not doing it.” Her eyes shimmer. I slump. “You’ll be the death of me.” Ten minutes later we’re a hundred metres above Arizona. Daya pokes her head out over the edge. Her small hands grip the poles. She stares across the red-rock plains, watching the sun shine through festering clouds and the shadows shortening over the dirt. She’s practically salivating with glee. I relax at the back of the carriage. I’m never going to admit to Daya that I’ve never been to an amusement park before, and that even the sight of the ferris wheel made my heart jitter. I’m handling the ferris wheel well though; I don’t even feel like throwing up. “That was cool,” Daya proclaims as we finish our third rotation. She jumps out and turns back to face me. “Where else should we go?” I know she’s not waiting for a response. Surely enough, she answers her own question and drags me to an empty stall. Inside is a double-seat wooden cart on top of a rickety pair of rails. I sit at the far end of the carriage and pull the safety strap tight around my waist. Daya plonks herself besides me. I handled the ferris wheel. I can basically handle anyth- Wham. It takes me a few seconds to realise that, without warning, the cart had rocketed backwards out the back of the stall. I’m too busy screaming. Daya laughs and holds her arms above her. “Oh my God we’re going to die,” I manage breathlessly. I try to sweep my hair out from my mouth and eyes, but it sticks there. “This is awesome!” Daya yells. The cart goes upside down. My stomach turns. My fingers go white clutching the side of the carriage. Wind roars in my ears. “This is the coolest thing ever!” Daya exclaims. After five minutes, once the contents of my stomach have stopped doing somersaults inside me, I strictly tell Daya that we aren’t going on any more rollercoasters. We stroll around the shops for the rest of the morning. More and more people clutter the park. The day becomes hotter, and I feel moisture start to prick the back of my neck. I wonder if Daya catches the looks passers-by keep shooting her. She doesn’t return their gazes. I wish I knew what she was thinking right now. Once upon a time, I’d know every single thought in her head. Now I’ve lost track of them. We’re due at the doctor’s in less than thirty minutes. I’m sweating. Not just because I’m nervous. Its midday now, and the sun is glaring down on us and sucking the air dry. Our small cramped rental car simmers with heat. Sweat layers my arms and trickles down from my forehead into my eyes. The rattly air conditioner is meant to be on full blast, but I don’t think it’s working. Daya doesn’t feel the heat like I do. She’s peering excitedly over the dashboard at the cars hurtling by, chewing at the orange strap of her jacket. She’s never been on a motorway like this before. She presses her face up against the window and stares in fascination at the city outside. I wipe my brow and drum on the accelerator impatiently. The doctor’s office is a welcome reprieve from the sun. Cold air engulfs me as I enter. We wait for almost five minutes for the doctor to come out, but it feels like forever. My foot taps rapidly on the floor, a bad habit I picked up in the early days after Daya’s accident. Eventually the doctor peers out from his office and beckons us into the room. I inhale and squeeze Daya’s hand. We walk into an office with dark lime carpet and clean white walls. The doctor is standing by a modern glass desk.  He doesn’t flinch when he sees Daya’s face like most people. I suppose he has seen worse. “You’re Daya, I hear?” Daya nods timidly from where she’s loitering by the door. She hides her hands under the sleeves of her dotted orange jacket. “Come on in,” he invites. “I don’t bite.” I’m too nervous to roll my eyes. The doctor sits down opposite us and smiles gently at me. “And you’re Tanima.” “Yeah.” “My name’s Dr Matthew Jones,” he says smoothly. “I heard about you two from your mother back in India.” He shakes my hand. His grip is firm. “You’re here about the acid attack on Daya, correct?” I nod. “Please, sit down.” I brush my hair back and sit. “So, could you outline exactly how the incident occurred?” I glance uneasily at Daya, who’s fiddling with her thumb. I don’t like telling this story. I don’t even recite it to Daya, in the hope it won’t stir up bad memories. “The family was all in the car together,” I say shortly. “This boy we didn’t know came up to the open window. He was holding a bottle of acid, and he threw it over Daya. It went all over her body, but… mainly her face. That was where the damage was.” “And how long ago?” “Almost five weeks.” The doctor stands and strides over to Daya. “Is it possible to reverse the damage done to her face?” I blurt. He crouches. His eyes scan Daya’s face. The seconds stretch on. I clear my throat. “Well?” The doctor reaches out and touches her scalp. He looks Daya in the eyes. “Daya, do you feel that?” Daya’s eyes flicker up at the hand resting on her forehead. “Talk to me, Daya. Can you feel my hand?” “No,” Daya mutters. “We realised it a few days after it happened,” I explain. “Her forehead isn’t sensitive to touch anymore. We think it’s-” He stands suddenly. “Daya, could you please wait outside?” he interrupts. Once the door is closed, the doctor looks me directly in the eyes. “Tanima, do you know why she can’t feel her face anymore?” “I… not exactly.” He sighs wearily. “It means the nerve endings are damaged. That’s an indication that the acid burn was severe. That it permeated the layers of her skin.” “But it can still be fixed, right?” “Ordinarily. In a usual patient, the dead skin cells must be removed and replaced. It’s not easy, or cheap. Unfortunately, Daya would be under too much risk if she took that operation.” My lips feel numb. “Why?” “Because she’s young. In many circumstances, an acid attack to a child that young would have killed them. As it is, there’s too much danger in meddling with her skin again before she’s at least 8 years old.” “We travelled all the way out to America to see you for this,” I tell him. “You can’t just say no.” “Tanima, I’m sorry. I know how much this means to you-” “There’s got to be an alternative,” I insist. “Maybe there’s a safer operation out there. Or maybe your diagnosis was rushed.” “Tanima-” “There have got to be doctors who know this field better than you. I’ll talk to them about it.” “Tanima!” I realise I’m trembling. “Tanima,” Dr Jones says, quietly this time. “I’m sorry, but there’s no way to treat Daya. Maybe there will be in a few years. Maybe we’ll have the technology to do the operation. But right now, it’s impossible.” It feels like there’s lead in my throat. I look him dead in the eyes. “So, what? You’re saying that Daya will have to live like this for the next few years.” “I’m afraid so.” “Okay,” I say quietly. “Okay.” Thunder growls from the dark jagged clouds above. Water slathers down on top of the windshield, smothering the car windows and the roof. “What did he say, Tani?” I don’t respond. My eyes track the road intently. “Can he fix my face, Tani? Can he?” “Your face doesn’t need fixing, Daya, I told you that.” “But can he make it better?” I don’t look at her. “Tanima!” I veer the car off the motorway into the mud and screech to a stop. Our tyres grate in the water. “Don’t yell at me when I’m driving!” I demand. Daya crosses her arms. “I won’t, if you tell me what the doctor said.” “Not now, Daya!” Daya sits back and crosses her arms. I scowl and slam my foot down on the accelerator. The car lets out a painful grumble, splutters and stays completely still. “Oh, you have got to be kidding,” I mutter. I twist the key and slam my boot down on the pedal, this time to no response at all. “Work, you useless thing.” Rain drums down on the roof. I hit the glovebox in frustration. “The car’s dead.” “When are they going to fix my face, Tani?” “Be quiet!” I shout, but I make the mistake of meeting her eyes. She blinks at me, reads my expression. Her body stills. She looks down at her shoes. I bite my lip. My foot’s tapping incessantly on the floor again, and I consciously force it to stop. I pull out my phone and am about to dial an insurance company when I hear the seatbelt unlatch and the door click open. I frown and look backwards. “Daya?” The door slams closed, leaving behind a vacant backseat. “What are you doing, going out into the rain? Daya!” I yell. I barge my door open and stagger into the belting rain. Torrents of rainwater stream down from the car roof and drench my shirt, which clings tight to my chest. I pull my boots through the sludge and my eyes scan the dark road. I can’t see Daya anywhere. “Daya, stop being immature! Where are you?” A car roars past. Gutter water sprays up from the wheels, and showers me in grime. I splutter and spit out dirt. Filthy water drips all over my face. “Dhat,” I curse. I stagger round the side of the car and glimpse Daya’s orange polka-dot jacket in the tall grass. I storm over and glare down at her. “The doctor can’t fix my face, can he?” Daya says in a small voice. “That’s irrelevant. Get in the car, right now!” She curls up into a tighter ball. “Answer me.” “Daya-” “Answer me!” Daya screams. I shudder. Suddenly I can feel the rivulets of water running down my cheeks, the chill curdling in my bones. Daya never screams at me. I softly lower myself down into the mud next to her. I wind my fingers around hers. Her hand is warm, even in the frigid rain. She doesn’t look at me. Her good clothes are soaking and dirty, and her scarf is covered in muck. I take her messy wet hair in my fingers and braid it. It’s difficult, and my fingers shudder in the cold, but I do a half-decent job. Once I’m done, I pull her orange hoodie over her head. “Well?” she demands. “No,” I tell her gently. “He can’t. I’m sorry.” She looks at me with her weepy crescent eyes, still half-closed from the acid attack. I put my arm around her shoulders. We stare out at our broken-down rental, and the indifferent cars speeding along without any notice of the two Indian girls sitting in the mud. “Life really has it in for us, doesn’t it, Daya?” Daya’s shoulders quake. Without answering she tumbles into my thigh and buries her face in my lap. I stroke her as she trembles. Above, the clouds give out another belch and spit rain down on top of us. It doesn’t matter. We keep hold of one other. 2921 words

[douglassmiith]

Is Redesigning Your Mobile App A Bad Idea?

About The Author

Suzanne Scacca is a former WordPress implementer, trainer and agency manager who now works as a freelance copywriter. She specializes in crafting marketing agency, web … More about Suzanne Scacca …

The Scrabble GO, Instacart and YouTube mobile apps have recently undergone disruptive redesigns. Were they worth it in the end? Judging by their users’ reactions, the answer to that is “No”. But that doesn’t mean that redesigns or design tweaks are a bad idea after launch. Let’s take a look at the mistakes made and the lessons we can extract from them.

I’m all for updating and upgrading mobile apps. I think if you’re not constantly looking at ways to improve the user experience, it’s just too easy to fall behind.

That said, a redesign should be done for the right reasons.

If it’s an existing app that’s already popular with users, any changes made to the design or content should be done in very small, incremental, strategic chunks through A/B testing.

If your app is experiencing serious issues with user acquisition or retention, then a redesign is probably necessary. Just be careful. You could end up making things even worse than they were before.

Let’s take a look at some recent redesign fails and review the lessons we can all learn from them.

Lesson #1: Never Mess With A Classic Interface (Scrabble GO)

Scrabble is one of the most profitable board games of all time, so it’s no surprise that EA decided to turn it into a mobile app. And it was well-received.

However, that all changed in early 2020 when the app was sold to Scopely and it was redesigned as an ugly, confusing and overwhelming mess of its former self.

Let me introduce you to Scrabble GO as it stands today.

The splash screen introducing gamers into the app looks nice. Considering how classically simply and beautiful the board game is, this is a good sign. Until this happens:

The Scrabble GO home screen is distraction overload. (Source: Scrabble GO) (Large preview)

I don’t even know where to start with this, but I’m going to try:

The colors are way over-the-top and there are too many.

Since “Start New Game” is the primary action users want to take, it should be the only button in that color, but “Level 5” and “Level 6” distract from it.

The interface is so cluttered that it’s hard to focus on any particular part of it.

There’s no sense of control or priority within the design.

The navigation has gated pages! And I’m not sure what that icon on the left is supposed to be… gems and rewards? Why then is there a gem counter in the top banner?

Beyond the UI of the homescreen, the UI and UX within the game board have been altered, too.

Take, for instance, this plea from @lageerdes on Twitter:

Twitter user @lageerdes asks Scrabble GO why the old functionality is gone. (Source: Twitter) (Large preview)

It took Scrabble GO over a week to tell @lageerdes something that could’ve easily been spelled out in a game FAQ or Settings page. These aren’t the only classic features that the new app has either complicated or done away with.

Now, Scopely took note of the negative comments from users and promised to revamp the app accordingly (which was promising). But rather than revert back to the old and much-loved design, it just added a new mode:

Scrabble GO added new ‘Mode Settings’ to appease users. (Source: Scrabble GO) (Large preview)

You’d think that the mode switcher would be more prominently displayed — like in the menu bar. Instead, it’s buried under the “Profile Settings” tab and there’s no indication anywhere in the app that the classic mode even exists.

Sadly, classic mode isn’t much of an improvement (classic is on the right):

The new Scrabble GO home screen versus the newly designed classic mode home screen. (Source: Scrabble GO) (Large preview)

The colors are toned down, some of the elements in the top-half have been cut out or minimized, but it doesn’t address any of the users’ issues with the app or game play.

Worse, many users are reporting the app crashes on them, as this complaint from Twitter user @monicamhere demonstrates:

Twitter user @monicamhere complains to Scrabble GO about the app crashing. (Source: Twitter) (Large preview)

I suspect this is happening because the developers jammed a second overloaded mode into the app rather than simply refine the existing one based on user feedback.

So, what’s the lesson here?

For starters, don’t mess with a classic. The old mobile app closely resembled the physical board game and it was a huge part of its appeal. When you throw out an old design for something (seemingly) more trendy, you run the risk of alienating once-loyal users.

Also, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Previously, the app was very easy to use and came with all the features and functionality users were familiar with from the board game. Now, they’re left with a non-intuitive and distracting mess.

If your users are telling you to ditch the redesign, listen to them. Who are you building this app for? Yourself or the users who are going to play with it and put money into your pocket?

Listen to what your users have to say. It’s valuable feedback that could make a world of difference in the user experience.

Lesson #2: Never Mislead Users At Checkout (Instacart)

This is an interesting case because the people who objected to this particular Instacart UI update weren’t its primary users.

Here’s why the change was an issue:

Users go onto the Instacart website or mobile app and do their grocery shopping from the local store of their choice. It’s a pretty neat concept:

Instacart users can do virtual shopping with grocery stores like Wegmans. (Source: Instacart) (Large preview)

Users quickly search for items and add them to their virtual shopping cart. In many cases, they have the option to either do curbside pickup or have the groceries delivered to their front doorstep. Either way, a dedicated “shopper” picks out the items and bags them up.

When the user is done shopping, they get a chance to review their cart and make final changes before checking out.

On the checkout page, users get to pick when they want their order fulfilled. Beneath this section, they find a high-level summary of their charges:

Instacart checkout sums up the total costs of a user’s order. (Source: Instacart) (Large preview)

At first glance, this all appears pretty-straightforward.

The cost of their cart is $174.40, which they already knew.

There’s a service fee of $9.99.

Sales tax is $4.11.

And the total is $197.22.

But before all that is a section called “Delivery Tip”. This is where Instacart’s shoppers take issue.

They argued that this is a dark pattern. And it is. Let me explain:

The first thing that’s wrong is that the Delivery Tip isn’t included with the rest of the line items. If it’s part of the calculation, it should be present down there and not separated out in its own section.

The second thing that’s wrong is that the tip is automatically set at 5% or $2.00. This was the shoppers’ biggest grievance at the time. They believed that because the “(5.0%)” in the delivery tip line wasn’t there in 2018, users might’ve seen the amount and thought “That seems reasonable enough” and left it at that. Whereas if you spell out the percentage, users may be inclined to leave more money.

For users who take the time to read through their charges and realize that they can leave a larger tip, this is what the tip update page looks like for small orders:

Instacart enables users to change the way they tip the delivery person. (Source: Instacart) (Large preview)

It’s oddly organized as the pre-selected amount sits at the very bottom of the page. And then there’s a random $6 tip included as if the app creators didn’t want to calculate what 20% would be.

That’s not how the tip is presented to users with larger orders though:

Instacart enables users to customize the tip they leave the delivery person, from 5% to 20% or they can customize the amount. (Source: Instacart) (Large preview)

It’s a strange choice to present users with a different tip page layout. It’s also strange that this one includes an open field to input a custom tip (under “Other amount”) when it’s not available on smaller orders.

If Instacart wants to avoid angering its shoppers and users, there needs to be more transparency about what’s going on and they need to fix the checkout page.

Dark patterns have no place in app design and especially not at checkout.

If you’re building an app that provide users with delivery, pickup or personal shopper services (which is becoming increasingly more common), I’d recommend designing your checkout page like Grubhub’s:

The Grubhub checkout page recaps the user’s order and provides tip amounts in percentages. (Source: Grubhub) (Large preview)

Users not only get a chance to see their items at the time of checkout, but the tip line is not deceptively designed or hidden. It sticks right there to the bottom of the page.

What’s more, tips are displayed as percentage amounts instead of random dollars. For U.S. consumers that are used to tipping 20% for good service, this is a much better way to ensure they leave a worthwhile tip for service workers rather than assume the dollar amount is okay.

And if they want to leave more or less, they can use the “Custom” option to input their own value.

Lesson #3: Never Waver In Your Decision To Roll Back (YouTube)

When the majority of your users speak up and say, “I really don’t like this new feature/update/design”, commit to whatever choice you make.

If you agree that the new feature sucks, then roll it back. And keep it that way.

If you don’t agree, then tweak it or just give it time until users get back on your side.

Just don’t flip-flop.

Here’s what happened when YouTube switched things up on its users… and then switched them again:

In 2019, YouTube tested hiding its comments section beneath this icon:

The Verge and XDA Developers report on a new placement of YouTube comments in 2019. (Source: Verge) (Large preview)

Before this test, comments appeared at the very bottom of the app, beneath the “Up next” video recommendations. With this update, however, they were moved behind this new button. Users would only see comments if they clicked it.

The response to the redesign clearly wasn’t positive as YouTube rolled back the update.

In 2020, YouTube decided to play around with the comments section again. Unlike the 2019 update, though, YouTube’s committed to this one (so far).

Here’s where the comments appear now:

The YouTube comments redesign puts the comments above the ‘Up next’ section. (Source: YouTube) (Large preview)

They’re sandwiched between the “Subscribe” bar and the “Up next” section.

If YouTube users go looking for the comments section in the old spot, they’re going to find this message now:

A notice appears when YouTube users go looking for comments in the old location. (Source: YouTube) (Large preview)

This is a nice touch. Think about how many times you’ve had to redesign something in an app or on a website, but had no way of letting regular users know about it. Not only does this tell them there’s been a change, but “Go To Comments” takes them there.

With this tooltip, YouTube doesn’t assume that users will zero in on the new section right away. It shows them where it is:

YouTube users see tooltip that shows them where the new comments section is. (Source: YouTube) (Large preview)

I actually think this is a good redesign. YouTube might be a place for some users to mindlessly watch video after video, but it’s a social media platform as well. By hiding the comments section under a button or tucking them into the bottom of the page, does that really encourage socialization? Of course not.

That said, users aren’t responding well to this change either, as Digital Information World reports. From what I can tell, the backlash is due to Google/YouTube disrupting the familiarity users have with the app’s layout. There’s really nothing here that suggests friction or disruption in their experience. It’s not even like the new section gets in the way or impedes users from binge-watching videos.

This is a tricky one because I don’t believe that YouTube should roll this update back.

There must be something in YouTube’s data that’s telling it that the bottom of the app is a bad place for comments, which is why it’s taking another stab at a redesign. It might be low engagement rates or people expressing annoyance at having to scroll so much to find them.

As such, I think this is a case for a mobile app developer not to listen to its users. And, in order to restore their trust and satisfaction, YouTube will need to hold firm to its decision this time.

Is A Mobile App Redesign The Best Idea For You?

Honestly, it’s impossible to please everyone. However, your goal should be to please, at the very least, most of your users.

So, if you’re planning to redesign your app, I’d suggest taking the safe approach and A/B testing it first to see what kind of feedback you get.

That way, you’ll only push out data-backed updates that improve the overall user experience. And you won’t have to deal with rolling back the app or the negative press you get from media outlets, social media comments, or app store reviews.

Further Reading on SmashingMag:

(ra, yk, il)

Website Design & SEO Delray Beach by DBL07.co

Delray Beach SEO

Via http://www.scpie.org/is-redesigning-your-mobile-app-a-bad-idea/

source https://scpie.weebly.com/blog/is-redesigning-your-mobile-app-a-bad-idea

[riichardwilson]

Is Redesigning Your Mobile App A Bad Idea?

About The Author

Suzanne Scacca is a former WordPress implementer, trainer and agency manager who now works as a freelance copywriter. She specializes in crafting marketing agency, web … More about Suzanne Scacca …

The Scrabble GO, Instacart and YouTube mobile apps have recently undergone disruptive redesigns. Were they worth it in the end? Judging by their users’ reactions, the answer to that is “No”. But that doesn’t mean that redesigns or design tweaks are a bad idea after launch. Let’s take a look at the mistakes made and the lessons we can extract from them.

I’m all for updating and upgrading mobile apps. I think if you’re not constantly looking at ways to improve the user experience, it’s just too easy to fall behind.

That said, a redesign should be done for the right reasons.

If it’s an existing app that’s already popular with users, any changes made to the design or content should be done in very small, incremental, strategic chunks through A/B testing.

If your app is experiencing serious issues with user acquisition or retention, then a redesign is probably necessary. Just be careful. You could end up making things even worse than they were before.

Let’s take a look at some recent redesign fails and review the lessons we can all learn from them.

Lesson #1: Never Mess With A Classic Interface (Scrabble GO)

Scrabble is one of the most profitable board games of all time, so it’s no surprise that EA decided to turn it into a mobile app. And it was well-received.

However, that all changed in early 2020 when the app was sold to Scopely and it was redesigned as an ugly, confusing and overwhelming mess of its former self.

Let me introduce you to Scrabble GO as it stands today.

The splash screen introducing gamers into the app looks nice. Considering how classically simply and beautiful the board game is, this is a good sign. Until this happens:

The Scrabble GO home screen is distraction overload. (Source: Scrabble GO) (Large preview)

I don’t even know where to start with this, but I’m going to try:

The colors are way over-the-top and there are too many.

Since “Start New Game” is the primary action users want to take, it should be the only button in that color, but “Level 5” and “Level 6” distract from it.

The interface is so cluttered that it’s hard to focus on any particular part of it.

There’s no sense of control or priority within the design.

The navigation has gated pages! And I’m not sure what that icon on the left is supposed to be… gems and rewards? Why then is there a gem counter in the top banner?

Beyond the UI of the homescreen, the UI and UX within the game board have been altered, too.

Take, for instance, this plea from @lageerdes on Twitter:

Twitter user @lageerdes asks Scrabble GO why the old functionality is gone. (Source: Twitter) (Large preview)

It took Scrabble GO over a week to tell @lageerdes something that could’ve easily been spelled out in a game FAQ or Settings page. These aren’t the only classic features that the new app has either complicated or done away with.

Now, Scopely took note of the negative comments from users and promised to revamp the app accordingly (which was promising). But rather than revert back to the old and much-loved design, it just added a new mode:

Scrabble GO added new ‘Mode Settings’ to appease users. (Source: Scrabble GO) (Large preview)

You’d think that the mode switcher would be more prominently displayed — like in the menu bar. Instead, it’s buried under the “Profile Settings” tab and there’s no indication anywhere in the app that the classic mode even exists.

Sadly, classic mode isn’t much of an improvement (classic is on the right):

The new Scrabble GO home screen versus the newly designed classic mode home screen. (Source: Scrabble GO) (Large preview)

The colors are toned down, some of the elements in the top-half have been cut out or minimized, but it doesn’t address any of the users’ issues with the app or game play.

Worse, many users are reporting the app crashes on them, as this complaint from Twitter user @monicamhere demonstrates:

Twitter user @monicamhere complains to Scrabble GO about the app crashing. (Source: Twitter) (Large preview)

I suspect this is happening because the developers jammed a second overloaded mode into the app rather than simply refine the existing one based on user feedback.

So, what’s the lesson here?

For starters, don’t mess with a classic. The old mobile app closely resembled the physical board game and it was a huge part of its appeal. When you throw out an old design for something (seemingly) more trendy, you run the risk of alienating once-loyal users.

Also, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Previously, the app was very easy to use and came with all the features and functionality users were familiar with from the board game. Now, they’re left with a non-intuitive and distracting mess.

If your users are telling you to ditch the redesign, listen to them. Who are you building this app for? Yourself or the users who are going to play with it and put money into your pocket?

Listen to what your users have to say. It’s valuable feedback that could make a world of difference in the user experience.

Lesson #2: Never Mislead Users At Checkout (Instacart)

This is an interesting case because the people who objected to this particular Instacart UI update weren’t its primary users.

Here’s why the change was an issue:

Users go onto the Instacart website or mobile app and do their grocery shopping from the local store of their choice. It’s a pretty neat concept:

Instacart users can do virtual shopping with grocery stores like Wegmans. (Source: Instacart) (Large preview)

Users quickly search for items and add them to their virtual shopping cart. In many cases, they have the option to either do curbside pickup or have the groceries delivered to their front doorstep. Either way, a dedicated “shopper” picks out the items and bags them up.

When the user is done shopping, they get a chance to review their cart and make final changes before checking out.

On the checkout page, users get to pick when they want their order fulfilled. Beneath this section, they find a high-level summary of their charges:

Instacart checkout sums up the total costs of a user’s order. (Source: Instacart) (Large preview)

At first glance, this all appears pretty-straightforward.

The cost of their cart is $174.40, which they already knew.

There’s a service fee of $9.99.

Sales tax is $4.11.

And the total is $197.22.

But before all that is a section called “Delivery Tip”. This is where Instacart’s shoppers take issue.

They argued that this is a dark pattern. And it is. Let me explain:

The first thing that’s wrong is that the Delivery Tip isn’t included with the rest of the line items. If it’s part of the calculation, it should be present down there and not separated out in its own section.

The second thing that’s wrong is that the tip is automatically set at 5% or $2.00. This was the shoppers’ biggest grievance at the time. They believed that because the “(5.0%)” in the delivery tip line wasn’t there in 2018, users might’ve seen the amount and thought “That seems reasonable enough” and left it at that. Whereas if you spell out the percentage, users may be inclined to leave more money.

For users who take the time to read through their charges and realize that they can leave a larger tip, this is what the tip update page looks like for small orders:

Instacart enables users to change the way they tip the delivery person. (Source: Instacart) (Large preview)

It’s oddly organized as the pre-selected amount sits at the very bottom of the page. And then there’s a random $6 tip included as if the app creators didn’t want to calculate what 20% would be.

That’s not how the tip is presented to users with larger orders though:

Instacart enables users to customize the tip they leave the delivery person, from 5% to 20% or they can customize the amount. (Source: Instacart) (Large preview)

It’s a strange choice to present users with a different tip page layout. It’s also strange that this one includes an open field to input a custom tip (under “Other amount”) when it’s not available on smaller orders.

If Instacart wants to avoid angering its shoppers and users, there needs to be more transparency about what’s going on and they need to fix the checkout page.

Dark patterns have no place in app design and especially not at checkout.

If you’re building an app that provide users with delivery, pickup or personal shopper services (which is becoming increasingly more common), I’d recommend designing your checkout page like Grubhub’s:

The Grubhub checkout page recaps the user’s order and provides tip amounts in percentages. (Source: Grubhub) (Large preview)

Users not only get a chance to see their items at the time of checkout, but the tip line is not deceptively designed or hidden. It sticks right there to the bottom of the page.

What’s more, tips are displayed as percentage amounts instead of random dollars. For U.S. consumers that are used to tipping 20% for good service, this is a much better way to ensure they leave a worthwhile tip for service workers rather than assume the dollar amount is okay.

And if they want to leave more or less, they can use the “Custom” option to input their own value.

Lesson #3: Never Waver In Your Decision To Roll Back (YouTube)

When the majority of your users speak up and say, “I really don’t like this new feature/update/design”, commit to whatever choice you make.

If you agree that the new feature sucks, then roll it back. And keep it that way.

If you don’t agree, then tweak it or just give it time until users get back on your side.

Just don’t flip-flop.

Here’s what happened when YouTube switched things up on its users… and then switched them again:

In 2019, YouTube tested hiding its comments section beneath this icon:

The Verge and XDA Developers report on a new placement of YouTube comments in 2019. (Source: Verge) (Large preview)

Before this test, comments appeared at the very bottom of the app, beneath the “Up next” video recommendations. With this update, however, they were moved behind this new button. Users would only see comments if they clicked it.

The response to the redesign clearly wasn’t positive as YouTube rolled back the update.

In 2020, YouTube decided to play around with the comments section again. Unlike the 2019 update, though, YouTube’s committed to this one (so far).

Here’s where the comments appear now:

The YouTube comments redesign puts the comments above the ‘Up next’ section. (Source: YouTube) (Large preview)

They’re sandwiched between the “Subscribe” bar and the “Up next” section.

If YouTube users go looking for the comments section in the old spot, they’re going to find this message now:

A notice appears when YouTube users go looking for comments in the old location. (Source: YouTube) (Large preview)

This is a nice touch. Think about how many times you’ve had to redesign something in an app or on a website, but had no way of letting regular users know about it. Not only does this tell them there’s been a change, but “Go To Comments” takes them there.

With this tooltip, YouTube doesn’t assume that users will zero in on the new section right away. It shows them where it is:

YouTube users see tooltip that shows them where the new comments section is. (Source: YouTube) (Large preview)

I actually think this is a good redesign. YouTube might be a place for some users to mindlessly watch video after video, but it’s a social media platform as well. By hiding the comments section under a button or tucking them into the bottom of the page, does that really encourage socialization? Of course not.

That said, users aren’t responding well to this change either, as Digital Information World reports. From what I can tell, the backlash is due to Google/YouTube disrupting the familiarity users have with the app’s layout. There’s really nothing here that suggests friction or disruption in their experience. It’s not even like the new section gets in the way or impedes users from binge-watching videos.

This is a tricky one because I don’t believe that YouTube should roll this update back.

There must be something in YouTube’s data that’s telling it that the bottom of the app is a bad place for comments, which is why it’s taking another stab at a redesign. It might be low engagement rates or people expressing annoyance at having to scroll so much to find them.

As such, I think this is a case for a mobile app developer not to listen to its users. And, in order to restore their trust and satisfaction, YouTube will need to hold firm to its decision this time.

Is A Mobile App Redesign The Best Idea For You?

Honestly, it’s impossible to please everyone. However, your goal should be to please, at the very least, most of your users.

So, if you’re planning to redesign your app, I’d suggest taking the safe approach and A/B testing it first to see what kind of feedback you get.

That way, you’ll only push out data-backed updates that improve the overall user experience. And you won’t have to deal with rolling back the app or the negative press you get from media outlets, social media comments, or app store reviews.

Further Reading on SmashingMag:

(ra, yk, il)

Website Design & SEO Delray Beach by DBL07.co

Delray Beach SEO

source http://www.scpie.org/is-redesigning-your-mobile-app-a-bad-idea/ source https://scpie.tumblr.com/post/623667673211060225

[scpie]

Is Redesigning Your Mobile App A Bad Idea?

About The Author

Suzanne Scacca is a former WordPress implementer, trainer and agency manager who now works as a freelance copywriter. She specializes in crafting marketing agency, web … More about Suzanne Scacca …

The Scrabble GO, Instacart and YouTube mobile apps have recently undergone disruptive redesigns. Were they worth it in the end? Judging by their users’ reactions, the answer to that is “No”. But that doesn’t mean that redesigns or design tweaks are a bad idea after launch. Let’s take a look at the mistakes made and the lessons we can extract from them.

I’m all for updating and upgrading mobile apps. I think if you’re not constantly looking at ways to improve the user experience, it’s just too easy to fall behind.

That said, a redesign should be done for the right reasons.

If it’s an existing app that’s already popular with users, any changes made to the design or content should be done in very small, incremental, strategic chunks through A/B testing.

If your app is experiencing serious issues with user acquisition or retention, then a redesign is probably necessary. Just be careful. You could end up making things even worse than they were before.

Let’s take a look at some recent redesign fails and review the lessons we can all learn from them.

Lesson #1: Never Mess With A Classic Interface (Scrabble GO)

Scrabble is one of the most profitable board games of all time, so it’s no surprise that EA decided to turn it into a mobile app. And it was well-received.

However, that all changed in early 2020 when the app was sold to Scopely and it was redesigned as an ugly, confusing and overwhelming mess of its former self.

Let me introduce you to Scrabble GO as it stands today.

The splash screen introducing gamers into the app looks nice. Considering how classically simply and beautiful the board game is, this is a good sign. Until this happens:

The Scrabble GO home screen is distraction overload. (Source: Scrabble GO) (Large preview)

I don’t even know where to start with this, but I’m going to try:

The colors are way over-the-top and there are too many.

Since “Start New Game” is the primary action users want to take, it should be the only button in that color, but “Level 5” and “Level 6” distract from it.

The interface is so cluttered that it’s hard to focus on any particular part of it.

There’s no sense of control or priority within the design.

The navigation has gated pages! And I’m not sure what that icon on the left is supposed to be… gems and rewards? Why then is there a gem counter in the top banner?

Beyond the UI of the homescreen, the UI and UX within the game board have been altered, too.

Take, for instance, this plea from @lageerdes on Twitter:

Twitter user @lageerdes asks Scrabble GO why the old functionality is gone. (Source: Twitter) (Large preview)

It took Scrabble GO over a week to tell @lageerdes something that could’ve easily been spelled out in a game FAQ or Settings page. These aren’t the only classic features that the new app has either complicated or done away with.

Now, Scopely took note of the negative comments from users and promised to revamp the app accordingly (which was promising). But rather than revert back to the old and much-loved design, it just added a new mode:

Scrabble GO added new ‘Mode Settings’ to appease users. (Source: Scrabble GO) (Large preview)

You’d think that the mode switcher would be more prominently displayed — like in the menu bar. Instead, it’s buried under the “Profile Settings” tab and there’s no indication anywhere in the app that the classic mode even exists.

Sadly, classic mode isn’t much of an improvement (classic is on the right):

The new Scrabble GO home screen versus the newly designed classic mode home screen. (Source: Scrabble GO) (Large preview)

The colors are toned down, some of the elements in the top-half have been cut out or minimized, but it doesn’t address any of the users’ issues with the app or game play.

Worse, many users are reporting the app crashes on them, as this complaint from Twitter user @monicamhere demonstrates:

Twitter user @monicamhere complains to Scrabble GO about the app crashing. (Source: Twitter) (Large preview)

I suspect this is happening because the developers jammed a second overloaded mode into the app rather than simply refine the existing one based on user feedback.

So, what’s the lesson here?

For starters, don’t mess with a classic. The old mobile app closely resembled the physical board game and it was a huge part of its appeal. When you throw out an old design for something (seemingly) more trendy, you run the risk of alienating once-loyal users.

Also, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Previously, the app was very easy to use and came with all the features and functionality users were familiar with from the board game. Now, they’re left with a non-intuitive and distracting mess.

If your users are telling you to ditch the redesign, listen to them. Who are you building this app for? Yourself or the users who are going to play with it and put money into your pocket?

Listen to what your users have to say. It’s valuable feedback that could make a world of difference in the user experience.

Lesson #2: Never Mislead Users At Checkout (Instacart)

This is an interesting case because the people who objected to this particular Instacart UI update weren’t its primary users.

Here’s why the change was an issue:

Users go onto the Instacart website or mobile app and do their grocery shopping from the local store of their choice. It’s a pretty neat concept:

Instacart users can do virtual shopping with grocery stores like Wegmans. (Source: Instacart) (Large preview)

Users quickly search for items and add them to their virtual shopping cart. In many cases, they have the option to either do curbside pickup or have the groceries delivered to their front doorstep. Either way, a dedicated “shopper” picks out the items and bags them up.

When the user is done shopping, they get a chance to review their cart and make final changes before checking out.

On the checkout page, users get to pick when they want their order fulfilled. Beneath this section, they find a high-level summary of their charges:

Instacart checkout sums up the total costs of a user’s order. (Source: Instacart) (Large preview)

At first glance, this all appears pretty-straightforward.

The cost of their cart is $174.40, which they already knew.

There’s a service fee of $9.99.

Sales tax is $4.11.

And the total is $197.22.

But before all that is a section called “Delivery Tip”. This is where Instacart’s shoppers take issue.

They argued that this is a dark pattern. And it is. Let me explain:

The first thing that’s wrong is that the Delivery Tip isn’t included with the rest of the line items. If it’s part of the calculation, it should be present down there and not separated out in its own section.

The second thing that’s wrong is that the tip is automatically set at 5% or $2.00. This was the shoppers’ biggest grievance at the time. They believed that because the “(5.0%)” in the delivery tip line wasn’t there in 2018, users might’ve seen the amount and thought “That seems reasonable enough” and left it at that. Whereas if you spell out the percentage, users may be inclined to leave more money.

For users who take the time to read through their charges and realize that they can leave a larger tip, this is what the tip update page looks like for small orders:

Instacart enables users to change the way they tip the delivery person. (Source: Instacart) (Large preview)

It’s oddly organized as the pre-selected amount sits at the very bottom of the page. And then there’s a random $6 tip included as if the app creators didn’t want to calculate what 20% would be.

That’s not how the tip is presented to users with larger orders though:

Instacart enables users to customize the tip they leave the delivery person, from 5% to 20% or they can customize the amount. (Source: Instacart) (Large preview)

It’s a strange choice to present users with a different tip page layout. It’s also strange that this one includes an open field to input a custom tip (under “Other amount”) when it’s not available on smaller orders.

If Instacart wants to avoid angering its shoppers and users, there needs to be more transparency about what’s going on and they need to fix the checkout page.

Dark patterns have no place in app design and especially not at checkout.

If you’re building an app that provide users with delivery, pickup or personal shopper services (which is becoming increasingly more common), I’d recommend designing your checkout page like Grubhub’s:

The Grubhub checkout page recaps the user’s order and provides tip amounts in percentages. (Source: Grubhub) (Large preview)

Users not only get a chance to see their items at the time of checkout, but the tip line is not deceptively designed or hidden. It sticks right there to the bottom of the page.

What’s more, tips are displayed as percentage amounts instead of random dollars. For U.S. consumers that are used to tipping 20% for good service, this is a much better way to ensure they leave a worthwhile tip for service workers rather than assume the dollar amount is okay.

And if they want to leave more or less, they can use the “Custom” option to input their own value.

Lesson #3: Never Waver In Your Decision To Roll Back (YouTube)

When the majority of your users speak up and say, “I really don’t like this new feature/update/design”, commit to whatever choice you make.

If you agree that the new feature sucks, then roll it back. And keep it that way.

If you don’t agree, then tweak it or just give it time until users get back on your side.

Just don’t flip-flop.

Here’s what happened when YouTube switched things up on its users… and then switched them again:

In 2019, YouTube tested hiding its comments section beneath this icon:

The Verge and XDA Developers report on a new placement of YouTube comments in 2019. (Source: Verge) (Large preview)

Before this test, comments appeared at the very bottom of the app, beneath the “Up next” video recommendations. With this update, however, they were moved behind this new button. Users would only see comments if they clicked it.

The response to the redesign clearly wasn’t positive as YouTube rolled back the update.

In 2020, YouTube decided to play around with the comments section again. Unlike the 2019 update, though, YouTube’s committed to this one (so far).

Here’s where the comments appear now:

The YouTube comments redesign puts the comments above the ‘Up next’ section. (Source: YouTube) (Large preview)

They’re sandwiched between the “Subscribe” bar and the “Up next” section.

If YouTube users go looking for the comments section in the old spot, they’re going to find this message now:

A notice appears when YouTube users go looking for comments in the old location. (Source: YouTube) (Large preview)

This is a nice touch. Think about how many times you’ve had to redesign something in an app or on a website, but had no way of letting regular users know about it. Not only does this tell them there’s been a change, but “Go To Comments” takes them there.

With this tooltip, YouTube doesn’t assume that users will zero in on the new section right away. It shows them where it is:

YouTube users see tooltip that shows them where the new comments section is. (Source: YouTube) (Large preview)

I actually think this is a good redesign. YouTube might be a place for some users to mindlessly watch video after video, but it’s a social media platform as well. By hiding the comments section under a button or tucking them into the bottom of the page, does that really encourage socialization? Of course not.

That said, users aren’t responding well to this change either, as Digital Information World reports. From what I can tell, the backlash is due to Google/YouTube disrupting the familiarity users have with the app’s layout. There’s really nothing here that suggests friction or disruption in their experience. It’s not even like the new section gets in the way or impedes users from binge-watching videos.

This is a tricky one because I don’t believe that YouTube should roll this update back.

There must be something in YouTube’s data that’s telling it that the bottom of the app is a bad place for comments, which is why it’s taking another stab at a redesign. It might be low engagement rates or people expressing annoyance at having to scroll so much to find them.

As such, I think this is a case for a mobile app developer not to listen to its users. And, in order to restore their trust and satisfaction, YouTube will need to hold firm to its decision this time.

Is A Mobile App Redesign The Best Idea For You?

Honestly, it’s impossible to please everyone. However, your goal should be to please, at the very least, most of your users.

So, if you’re planning to redesign your app, I’d suggest taking the safe approach and A/B testing it first to see what kind of feedback you get.

That way, you’ll only push out data-backed updates that improve the overall user experience. And you won’t have to deal with rolling back the app or the negative press you get from media outlets, social media comments, or app store reviews.

Further Reading on SmashingMag:

(ra, yk, il)

Website Design & SEO Delray Beach by DBL07.co

Delray Beach SEO

source http://www.scpie.org/is-redesigning-your-mobile-app-a-bad-idea/

[laurelkrugerr]

Is Redesigning Your Mobile App A Bad Idea?

About The Author

Suzanne Scacca is a former WordPress implementer, trainer and agency manager who now works as a freelance copywriter. She specializes in crafting marketing agency, web … More about Suzanne Scacca …

The Scrabble GO, Instacart and YouTube mobile apps have recently undergone disruptive redesigns. Were they worth it in the end? Judging by their users’ reactions, the answer to that is “No”. But that doesn’t mean that redesigns or design tweaks are a bad idea after launch. Let’s take a look at the mistakes made and the lessons we can extract from them.

I’m all for updating and upgrading mobile apps. I think if you’re not constantly looking at ways to improve the user experience, it’s just too easy to fall behind.

That said, a redesign should be done for the right reasons.

If it’s an existing app that’s already popular with users, any changes made to the design or content should be done in very small, incremental, strategic chunks through A/B testing.

If your app is experiencing serious issues with user acquisition or retention, then a redesign is probably necessary. Just be careful. You could end up making things even worse than they were before.

Let’s take a look at some recent redesign fails and review the lessons we can all learn from them.

Lesson #1: Never Mess With A Classic Interface (Scrabble GO)

Scrabble is one of the most profitable board games of all time, so it’s no surprise that EA decided to turn it into a mobile app. And it was well-received.

However, that all changed in early 2020 when the app was sold to Scopely and it was redesigned as an ugly, confusing and overwhelming mess of its former self.

Let me introduce you to Scrabble GO as it stands today.

The splash screen introducing gamers into the app looks nice. Considering how classically simply and beautiful the board game is, this is a good sign. Until this happens:

The Scrabble GO home screen is distraction overload. (Source: Scrabble GO) (Large preview)

I don’t even know where to start with this, but I’m going to try:

The colors are way over-the-top and there are too many.

Since “Start New Game” is the primary action users want to take, it should be the only button in that color, but “Level 5” and “Level 6” distract from it.

The interface is so cluttered that it’s hard to focus on any particular part of it.

There’s no sense of control or priority within the design.

The navigation has gated pages! And I’m not sure what that icon on the left is supposed to be… gems and rewards? Why then is there a gem counter in the top banner?

Beyond the UI of the homescreen, the UI and UX within the game board have been altered, too.

Take, for instance, this plea from @lageerdes on Twitter:

Twitter user @lageerdes asks Scrabble GO why the old functionality is gone. (Source: Twitter) (Large preview)

It took Scrabble GO over a week to tell @lageerdes something that could’ve easily been spelled out in a game FAQ or Settings page. These aren’t the only classic features that the new app has either complicated or done away with.

Now, Scopely took note of the negative comments from users and promised to revamp the app accordingly (which was promising). But rather than revert back to the old and much-loved design, it just added a new mode:

Scrabble GO added new ‘Mode Settings’ to appease users. (Source: Scrabble GO) (Large preview)

You’d think that the mode switcher would be more prominently displayed — like in the menu bar. Instead, it’s buried under the “Profile Settings” tab and there’s no indication anywhere in the app that the classic mode even exists.

Sadly, classic mode isn’t much of an improvement (classic is on the right):

The new Scrabble GO home screen versus the newly designed classic mode home screen. (Source: Scrabble GO) (Large preview)

The colors are toned down, some of the elements in the top-half have been cut out or minimized, but it doesn’t address any of the users’ issues with the app or game play.

Worse, many users are reporting the app crashes on them, as this complaint from Twitter user @monicamhere demonstrates:

Twitter user @monicamhere complains to Scrabble GO about the app crashing. (Source: Twitter) (Large preview)

I suspect this is happening because the developers jammed a second overloaded mode into the app rather than simply refine the existing one based on user feedback.

So, what’s the lesson here?

For starters, don’t mess with a classic. The old mobile app closely resembled the physical board game and it was a huge part of its appeal. When you throw out an old design for something (seemingly) more trendy, you run the risk of alienating once-loyal users.

Also, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Previously, the app was very easy to use and came with all the features and functionality users were familiar with from the board game. Now, they’re left with a non-intuitive and distracting mess.

If your users are telling you to ditch the redesign, listen to them. Who are you building this app for? Yourself or the users who are going to play with it and put money into your pocket?

Listen to what your users have to say. It’s valuable feedback that could make a world of difference in the user experience.

Lesson #2: Never Mislead Users At Checkout (Instacart)

This is an interesting case because the people who objected to this particular Instacart UI update weren’t its primary users.

Here’s why the change was an issue:

Users go onto the Instacart website or mobile app and do their grocery shopping from the local store of their choice. It’s a pretty neat concept:

Instacart users can do virtual shopping with grocery stores like Wegmans. (Source: Instacart) (Large preview)

Users quickly search for items and add them to their virtual shopping cart. In many cases, they have the option to either do curbside pickup or have the groceries delivered to their front doorstep. Either way, a dedicated “shopper” picks out the items and bags them up.

When the user is done shopping, they get a chance to review their cart and make final changes before checking out.

On the checkout page, users get to pick when they want their order fulfilled. Beneath this section, they find a high-level summary of their charges:

Instacart checkout sums up the total costs of a user’s order. (Source: Instacart) (Large preview)

At first glance, this all appears pretty-straightforward.

The cost of their cart is $174.40, which they already knew.

There’s a service fee of $9.99.

Sales tax is $4.11.

And the total is $197.22.

But before all that is a section called “Delivery Tip”. This is where Instacart’s shoppers take issue.

They argued that this is a dark pattern. And it is. Let me explain:

The first thing that’s wrong is that the Delivery Tip isn’t included with the rest of the line items. If it’s part of the calculation, it should be present down there and not separated out in its own section.

The second thing that’s wrong is that the tip is automatically set at 5% or $2.00. This was the shoppers’ biggest grievance at the time. They believed that because the “(5.0%)” in the delivery tip line wasn’t there in 2018, users might’ve seen the amount and thought “That seems reasonable enough” and left it at that. Whereas if you spell out the percentage, users may be inclined to leave more money.

For users who take the time to read through their charges and realize that they can leave a larger tip, this is what the tip update page looks like for small orders:

Instacart enables users to change the way they tip the delivery person. (Source: Instacart) (Large preview)

It’s oddly organized as the pre-selected amount sits at the very bottom of the page. And then there’s a random $6 tip included as if the app creators didn’t want to calculate what 20% would be.

That’s not how the tip is presented to users with larger orders though:

Instacart enables users to customize the tip they leave the delivery person, from 5% to 20% or they can customize the amount. (Source: Instacart) (Large preview)

It’s a strange choice to present users with a different tip page layout. It’s also strange that this one includes an open field to input a custom tip (under “Other amount”) when it’s not available on smaller orders.

If Instacart wants to avoid angering its shoppers and users, there needs to be more transparency about what’s going on and they need to fix the checkout page.

Dark patterns have no place in app design and especially not at checkout.

If you’re building an app that provide users with delivery, pickup or personal shopper services (which is becoming increasingly more common), I’d recommend designing your checkout page like Grubhub’s:

The Grubhub checkout page recaps the user’s order and provides tip amounts in percentages. (Source: Grubhub) (Large preview)

Users not only get a chance to see their items at the time of checkout, but the tip line is not deceptively designed or hidden. It sticks right there to the bottom of the page.

What’s more, tips are displayed as percentage amounts instead of random dollars. For U.S. consumers that are used to tipping 20% for good service, this is a much better way to ensure they leave a worthwhile tip for service workers rather than assume the dollar amount is okay.

And if they want to leave more or less, they can use the “Custom” option to input their own value.

Lesson #3: Never Waver In Your Decision To Roll Back (YouTube)

When the majority of your users speak up and say, “I really don’t like this new feature/update/design”, commit to whatever choice you make.

If you agree that the new feature sucks, then roll it back. And keep it that way.

If you don’t agree, then tweak it or just give it time until users get back on your side.

Just don’t flip-flop.

Here’s what happened when YouTube switched things up on its users… and then switched them again:

In 2019, YouTube tested hiding its comments section beneath this icon:

The Verge and XDA Developers report on a new placement of YouTube comments in 2019. (Source: Verge) (Large preview)

Before this test, comments appeared at the very bottom of the app, beneath the “Up next” video recommendations. With this update, however, they were moved behind this new button. Users would only see comments if they clicked it.

The response to the redesign clearly wasn’t positive as YouTube rolled back the update.

In 2020, YouTube decided to play around with the comments section again. Unlike the 2019 update, though, YouTube’s committed to this one (so far).

Here’s where the comments appear now:

The YouTube comments redesign puts the comments above the ‘Up next’ section. (Source: YouTube) (Large preview)

They’re sandwiched between the “Subscribe” bar and the “Up next” section.

If YouTube users go looking for the comments section in the old spot, they’re going to find this message now:

A notice appears when YouTube users go looking for comments in the old location. (Source: YouTube) (Large preview)

This is a nice touch. Think about how many times you’ve had to redesign something in an app or on a website, but had no way of letting regular users know about it. Not only does this tell them there’s been a change, but “Go To Comments” takes them there.

With this tooltip, YouTube doesn’t assume that users will zero in on the new section right away. It shows them where it is:

YouTube users see tooltip that shows them where the new comments section is. (Source: YouTube) (Large preview)

I actually think this is a good redesign. YouTube might be a place for some users to mindlessly watch video after video, but it’s a social media platform as well. By hiding the comments section under a button or tucking them into the bottom of the page, does that really encourage socialization? Of course not.

That said, users aren’t responding well to this change either, as Digital Information World reports. From what I can tell, the backlash is due to Google/YouTube disrupting the familiarity users have with the app’s layout. There’s really nothing here that suggests friction or disruption in their experience. It’s not even like the new section gets in the way or impedes users from binge-watching videos.

This is a tricky one because I don’t believe that YouTube should roll this update back.

There must be something in YouTube’s data that’s telling it that the bottom of the app is a bad place for comments, which is why it’s taking another stab at a redesign. It might be low engagement rates or people expressing annoyance at having to scroll so much to find them.

As such, I think this is a case for a mobile app developer not to listen to its users. And, in order to restore their trust and satisfaction, YouTube will need to hold firm to its decision this time.

Is A Mobile App Redesign The Best Idea For You?

Honestly, it’s impossible to please everyone. However, your goal should be to please, at the very least, most of your users.

So, if you’re planning to redesign your app, I’d suggest taking the safe approach and A/B testing it first to see what kind of feedback you get.

That way, you’ll only push out data-backed updates that improve the overall user experience. And you won’t have to deal with rolling back the app or the negative press you get from media outlets, social media comments, or app store reviews.

Further Reading on SmashingMag:

(ra, yk, il)

Website Design & SEO Delray Beach by DBL07.co

Delray Beach SEO

source http://www.scpie.org/is-redesigning-your-mobile-app-a-bad-idea/ source https://scpie1.blogspot.com/2020/07/is-redesigning-your-mobile-app-bad-idea.html

[thelmasirby32]

SEO on a shoestring budget: What small business owners can do to win

30-second summary:

There is a common and long-held belief that getting results from SEO takes at least six months. How true is that?

SEO can be costly and requires big dollars and a huge team to succeed. Should you ever compete with the biggies at all?

SEO is highly technical, changes from time to time with Google algorithm updates, hence, making it unpredictable. 

This piece answers those questions in detail and further debunks two common myths regarding the time it takes to get results from SEO and the unpredictable nature of SEO. It is, in sum, about how small businesses can play and win in the big league with SEO on a budget.

Pretty much everything you think you know about SEO today will be out of date tomorrow. This makes the online world an exceptionally volatile environment, where big fishes swallow the small ones.

In spite of this, many small businesses with a small budget for SEO are finding their feet in the online marketing world. How are they doing it? 

Research and experience have shown that domain age, numerous (quality) backlinks, and quality content are among the competitive advantages of businesses that are dominating the online marketing world.

And given that getting these things cost time and money, they present a formidable entry barrier to small business owners who want to get into the SEO game with a small budget.

For small business owners with little budget for SEO, chances are their website is relatively new, they do not have a budget for backlink building and even the job of creating content for their websites rests entirely on them. 

Before you turn away from SEO, remember the classic of Ryan Holiday,

“The Obstacle is the Way.”

The last decade is replete with stories of how savvy business owners found their ways to go face to face with the giants and, sometimes, defeat them.

The online world is not very different in that aspect. If you can follow the following steps, Internet marketing success, against all odds, can be made-to-order.

In this guide, I will show you what small businesses are doing to defy the stereotype and make SEO success on a shoestring budget, in a relatively short time.

1. The low-hanging fruit strategy

If you have been tinkering around with SEO for a while, you’ve probably heard of the term “long-tail keyword”.

Long-tail keywords refer to the specific keywords searchers are likely to use when they are close to making a purchase online.

To put this in perspective, here is an example.

If you want to start a blog on how to start a blog, for example, chances are you will not get found on Google given that the key phrase is too broad.

But if you break this down a little bit further and try to rank for “How to Start a Blog for Free,” your chances of ranking high on SERPs become brighter because you are targeting a fraction of the audience of the first key phrase. 

Another example is, if you are selling shoes, keywords like “shoes” are short-tail keywords, and trying to rank for them means you are probably going to be competing against Amazon and Gucci.

You don’t want to melt away like a snowflake under the sun, do you?

But if you try narrowing it down to more specific keywords such as “mens shoes,” or “best holiday shoes,” you have a better chance of getting to number one on Google SERPs for this kind of keywords. 

I ran the word “shoe” on a keyword research website. Here is what the result looks like:

The number in that red shape refers to the level of organic competition of that keyword, otherwise known as Keyword Difficulty (KD).

While the keyword “shoe” has a very high traffic potential, you do not have the wherewithal to weather the cutthroat competition of that field.

Now, look at the image below.

You can see that another keyword “men’s shoe” KD is a little above 32. That is your long-tail keyword and anything that falls into that category.

When you look at the number of organic traffic, you’d find that you can receive up to 38,000 monthly organic traffic for that keyword. For a small business owner with a limited budget for SEO like you, this is not too bad.

All you need to do now is to find as many of these long-tail keywords as possible and use them to plan your content calendar.

Now that you have found the low-hanging fruits, what is it that you are supposed to do with them?

Follow through with the next step.

2. Keyword research

This sounds obvious, or like something you have just done, but wait a moment.

Now let’s take one of our short-tail keywords and plug it back to the keyword finder and see what we’ve got.

As you can see, even under the keyword “mens shoe,” we still find potential keywords that you can place strategically under your post and rank for or use to develop an independent blog post. 

That is why it makes sense to do thorough keyword research to further see what other keywords you can place in your blog post for your major keyword and rank for as well.

While it is advisable these days to keep every single blog post focused around one keyword, having two major keywords to rank for in a single blog post is not a bad idea, according to Hubspot.

Well, on certain occasions, I have seen a single blog post that ranks for multiple keywords.

3. Write in-depth blog posts

According to a 2016 research, the average blog posts that rank number one on Google has about 1,900 words.

In the past, what it takes to rank on Google is a string of keywords. In other words, keyword stuffing WAS all it took.

Not anymore. Thin content was one of the primary targets of Google’s Panda. For a post to rank on Google, it is well understood that thoroughness is a sine qua non.

Posts that make it to the number one position on Google are in-depth and full of trusted sources. But do not mistake a long post for an in-depth post. 

An in-depth post proffers value — every single word in it.

Embedding posts with visuals such as videos, infographics, and photos might mean additional advantages to boot.

While there is no denying that relevancy is what matters, most posts that meet the standard of relevancy required to please searchers are the long ones that offer more than vague answers.

And of all people, a little unknown business owner who wants to do SEO on a small budget needs to offer all the value she can.

4. Keyword related and non-keyword related on-site SEO

The bedrock of your on-site SEO efforts is your content which, I believe, we have discussed as incisive as possible.

However, on-site SEO involves more. Much more.

Let’s look at the most important things you need to pay attention to in your on-site SEO efforts.

5. Keyword-rich content

You know we talked about keyword research earlier in this post. But when I say keyword-rich, I do not intend “keyword-stuffed.”

Assuming you’ve now found the keyword around which you want to base your blog post, it is time to use this keyword strategically in your writing to tell Google what the post stands for.

Lucky for you, this doesn’t have to be much of a struggle if you are using WordPress. All you need to do is install Yoast SEO on your dashboard and it will help guide you in writing a keyword-driven article.

6. Mobile-friendly web page

Do I even need to mention that? Nearly 60 percent of searches made online are now from mobile devices. And that Google continues to change its algorithm to suit this trend in search method is telling enough.

Optimize your site for mobile-friendliness and you are on your way to a better ranking on Google. This article gives you clear steps as to how you can achieve a mobile optimized site.

7. Page load speed

When Google announced their Google Mobile-First Index, they further made it clear that site speed has become a ranking factor. Several findings have since shown that this is true.

If you are going to reap the benefits of your SEO efforts, then your site speed is something you must pay attention to.

How, then, do you increase your site speed? Ways abound, and some of these ways can be dauntingly technical.

So, if you are doing SEO on a small budget and, like me, you suck at coding, I will advise you to allocate a huge part of your lean budget for the technical aspects.

I will, nonetheless, tell you what it takes and my recommendation for you as someone who is doing SEO on a shoestring budget.

8. Minifying CSS, Javascript, and HTML

Our websites are constituted of some little tiny ugly codes (Sorry, programmers, they are ugly to us). 

Those little tiny objects are made up of unintelligible commas, spaces, numbers and all sorts of nebulous characters. 

If you are a techie, then it wouldn’t cost you much to remove unused code, code comments, unnecessary spaces as well as other characters.

But for the uninitiated like me, you’d stand a better chance if you outsource this to professional web designers.

9. Image optimization

Image is another element that can take a lot of space and clutter up your website, thereby making the loading time a bit slower than is desirable.

As much as visuals are important for a successful blog post, keep in mind that the average image recommended for a blog post is 1200 x 628 pixels.

To optimize your image for SEO, you want to do it in such a way that it doesn’t compromise the quality of your image neither does it impact your SEO in a negative way.

There are many image optimization tools online. Look them up here.

10. URL structure

When it comes to SEO, you cannot afford to have a URL that looks like an HTML code. 

An SEO-friendly URL must be one that’s easy to read for search engines and gives humans the idea of what they are about to click.

Research has shown that URLs are among the key elements searchers consider before they click on a link.

In the olden Internet days, it would not be too hard to see URLs that look like specks of dirt, but such URLs these days are but condemnable heresies in the sight of lord Google.

Take a look at the illustration below to get an idea of what you should and should not do when it comes to URLs.

Source: Neil Patel

Here is a checklist of what you should have in your URL

Use your keywords in your URL: For example, if you have a blog post about where to find the best dog food, your URL should look like this: www.blog.com/where-to-find-best-dog-food. You can see it looks almost like a complete sentence. Here is an example from a blog I wrote about podcast hosting platforms: https://contentmarketingprofit.com/10-best-podcast-hosting-sites-and-everything-you-need-to-succeed/. Notice how it gives you an idea of what you are about to click.

Keep it short and simple: Keeping it below 60 characters has always been the recommendation. Short and sweet doesn’t mean you should overdo it though. Always try not to go beyond 60 characters.

Hyphens are better used as a separator in a URL than an underscore according to Google.

11. Link internally (with caution)

Linking to your other blog posts from a relating one has become a rule of thumb in writing blog posts.

And in case you don’t know, it isn’t just a fad designed to make you look like a professional blogger.

Its benefits include delivering link juice to other pages, showing Google the relevancy of posts to one another, making it easy for Google bots to crawl and index your pages and of course, keeping humans on your site longer.

But the “with caution” above means, when cross-linking internally, be wary of using too much exact-match anchor text in your links.

If you do, Google might think it’s an attempt to manipulate and penalize you for it. 

12. Copy: Good, relevant, great copy

Yes, I know I’m supposed to write that as “metadata” here, but metadata isn’t particularly a ranking factor.

It’s just a clicking factor which, indirectly, makes it a ranking factor.

What you put in your metadata matters. Bear in mind that aside from your title, your metadata is what tells users whether to click or scroll down.

As such, do your best to ensure that your metadata hits home. Create short, concise, quality descriptions that convey value to the user searching the internet for either information, purchase, feedback, or any other reason.

13. Go for the big link

It’s been many years since Google started using link signals as an important ranking factor. Links are still the most important external factor in SEO, and they aren’t about to go away anytime soon.

Now it’s time to start building backlinks, first, for your site as a whole, and, second, for your money pages in particular.

While this looks like a straightforward venture, be careful and observe the following rules in building links or you might run into a problem.

But before we go into the rules, let me quickly take you back to our first step in this journey.

Remember I clearly stated that you must find the long-tail keywords around which you are going to build your blog posts? Now, it’s time to hit your competitors where they are most vulnerable. 

What this means is that for every least competitive keyword you find, your competitor has the least number of backlinks going to that.

Analyze their link profile using tools like Ahrefs and try outdoing them with backlinks on those ones.

To put it this plain text, if your shoe-selling competitor has a blog post about “mens shoe” just like you do, and the number of backlinks that goes into that is twenty, to outrank them at that one on Google, all you need is twenty-one backlinks to a similar blog post on your site.

If you have nailed your on-page SEO already, consider this a silver bullet on outsmarting your competitor.

Now let’s quickly run through some link building best practices.

A. Quality, not quantity

If you go after low domain authority sites in the interest of haste, you risk hurting your SEO. 

While it’s not necessary to only go after sites with the highest domain authority, learn to go after sites with great domain authority. Anything from 60 DA and above is okay.

But even sites with 40 DA are also useful so long as they aren’t too many. Your best chances though lie in getting sites with 60+ DA by your side.

B. Have a healthy mix of anchor text

For someone who wants to rank a site for a keyword such as podcast platforms, for instance, you may be tempted to want to build a link profile with those two keywords: podcast platforms.

But I guarantee you that there is no faster and surefire way to get your site penalized. Google suspects an unnatural amount of links with the same anchor text pointing to the same source.

If you must build a link profile, then have some diversified anchor texts. 

C. Avoid black hat link-building no matter the glamour

And I can’t stress that enough.

There are many link vendors on the Internet who sell you on quick generic links that will get you penalized rather than rank.

The struggle to build links can be overwhelming for someone on a little budget and the lures are all there. But patience to do the right thing never gets too much. Don’t be in a haste to rank a rank that will truncate your well-planned efforts.

Even if those generic links work for you in the short term, what it will take for all these gains to disappear is Google penalizing you.

Avoid buying links, PBNs, as well as all other kinds of black hat link building that are being touted on the Internet.

In the end, build a huge and healthy link profile around your low-hanging fruits. This can be achieved by becoming a guest post rockstar and willing to withstand a lot of virulent rejections.

Or better still, create likeable assets in terms of valuable articles that bloggers may naturally want to refer to.

Need an example? Link Building for SEO: The Definitive Guide

Another thing that will help you in your link building campaign is bloggers outreach. Heaps of articles exist on the Internet teaching you how to go about these things in detail.

As you build this up, your domain authority significantly improves, arming you with the experience and money to go big and eventually share the field with your big competitors.

And from the very beginning, the purpose of this blog post is to teach you how to start small and go big with a thin budget for SEO.

It is a piece of article written with a simple philosophical understanding in mind, that is; sometimes, you have to take one step back to potentially take two forward.

Conclusion

If you’ve been searching online to seek answers for how long it takes to rank on Google, you might have come across articles that saunter a little bit around and end up saying six months. 

That might have been true in the past but not anymore. Whenever Google updates her algorithm, there will be traffic losses and gains. Most times, these are not due to correctness or error from your end.

But SEO has lived long enough to have fundamentals and so far as we know, the things identified in this blog post have stayed long enough to become hard and fast rules in search ranking efforts. 

If there is anything we’ve learned in the past decade, it is a simple truth that big dollars are not always the sole winning ingredient — anymore.

Will, innovation, grit, unceasing creativity, and a touch of luck are all you sometimes need to win. When you plan to use some SEO marketing for your business but you have a little budget, you aren’t expected to exit the stage. 

You can still win, but only if you try.

Ali Faagba is a copywriter, content marketer, and a tech freelance writer. He’s been featured in Entrepreneur, Thrive Global, and others. You can reach him on Twitter @contentmints.

The post SEO on a shoestring budget: What small business owners can do to win appeared first on Search Engine Watch.

from Digital Marketing News https://www.searchenginewatch.com/2020/06/04/seo-on-a-shoestring-budget-what-small-business-owners-can-do-to-win/

[cellerityweb]

A Virtual Experience That Made A Real Difference [part I]

War. One of the most popular and never depleted themes accompanying our widely understood (pop)culture. On the pages of fantasy books, it brought wealth and glory to victorious heroes. In real life however …

War is ugly and it mostly brought and still brings suffering and misery to (almost) all involved. But always, no matter if real or fictional, revived from the past or imagined in a distant future, war brings change. For us, fortunately, the war was virtual. But the change it brought was as real as it gets.

Back in 2014 we released »This War of Mine«  –  an »indie game« allowing players to experience a simulation of what it is like to be a civilian in a city torn by military conflict. It became a game changer for us. Not only because of the overall sales or critical acclaim, which were more than satisfying, but first and foremost because of the impact it created. It simply made people care. Not only about gameplay but also about the subject it touched. And for us it proved that games can evoke empathy and bring experiences that shouldn’t just be applied to a fun/not fun scale but rather rated, based on their overall impact.

From the publishing point of view, This War of Mine, being a somewhat niche survival simulator, allowed us to break through to the so-called »mainstream«, changing the way we think about advertising and game-focused communication as a whole.

»The Shelter« (Concept Development)

The first rough version of the game differed a lot from what you know as This War of Mine. It wasn’t even based on war as such. What welcomed you in the initial prototype was a post-apocalyptic wasteland and a half-destroyed bunker serving as a shelter for a group of anonymous survivors. So, »Shelter« became our internal codename for the game, that we used for a significant period of the development process. Visually, it was cool. Even as a basic prototype, we kind of liked how it looked. But emotionally… well, it just wasn’t enough. It lacked something. Even though all of the elements were kind of ok, the sum of them did not work for us. If we wanted to make it stand out from the crowd, we had to bring it to another level. The question was how? We had »the shelter« so the main question was who lived in it. Grzegorz, our CEO, suggested that it should be victims of war  –  regular people suffering from the conflict that broke out around them. That concept clicked with the team as it gave the missing layer to the game. We felt we could build upon.

What came after was basically a lot of research. A lot. Inspiration came from multiple articles, history we knew from school, as well as from stories told by our parents and grandparents. Being a Pole made the process a bit easier, as we could not complain about the lack of source material. History gave us much, and current news did the rest. Unfortunately, you do not have to try very hard to find »fresh« stories about conflicts affecting modern societies.

After few months of intense work, we landed with a new prototype. One much closer to the final shape of the game. Sure, it needed a lot of polishing  –  but it worked! At this point we felt we had something truly special. Something that, once you sucked your teeth into it, stuck with you. That became both a curse and a blessing. You obviously had to play it to realize its potential. Not having the track record nor established franchise, we had to build the buzz and interest way before the game appeared on digital shelves of Steam and other distribution platforms.

Shaping the Brand

The common perception is that to succeed you have to be innovative. Break the rules, they say, find your way. The truth is that »new« means difficult. People are afraid of new. They mostly prefer »same old« as predictable, safe and measurable. This is why, amongst a few other reasons, the AAA market is dominated by long running franchises. Investing a lot of money, you crave for as much predictability as possible. And new is far from being predictable. It can pay off, but there is no guarantee of that. With no benchmarks, no historical data, it basically is a bungee jump. On a freshly unpacked rope. So, we jumped. Making the knots in mid-air.

An early prototype of This War of Mine, internally codenamed “The Shelter”.

At this point we knew we had a good game, but we were the only ones with that knowledge. And that is the issue with every new brand/product appearing on the market. You have to build its perception from scratch. What is it? What does it offer? And first and foremost  –  why the hell should people care? You need an answer. You need a solid brand. Branding is mostly about building a well-defined, coherent presence on the market. Creating a perception and then preferably a purchase intent by associating particular feelings and connotations with your product, service or whatever you have to offer. In our case  –  a game. There are multiple methods of constructing a strong brand but no matter which path you choose, one thing stays invariable  –  you have to be relatable. To find something people can easily understand and, in a perfect scenario, have an opinion about. If that opinion is good or bad, that is secondary as sometimes negative feelings can work in your favour as well.

We had a war-themed game and »war« as such was at that time (and honestly not much has changed since then) a commodity in gaming. There were and are so many titles based around conflicts. Modern, historical, sci-fi, you name it. Just check the Steam tags. You are going to get hundreds of results for »war« alone, not to mention all the variations. That meant that the market was cluttered, but also full of potential. Especially considering the fact that the majority of these games shared a somewhat similar and slightly clichéd perspective. No matter the platform or genre, they usually allowed you as a player to embody a superhuman protagonist, running and gunning (alternatively moving units), trying to meet objectives that were different interpretations of winning by destruction. »Action & confrontation« were the core that everything was built around. No empathy involved. Not much of a reflection either (besides few gems like Ubisoft’s »Valiant Hearts: The Great War« or »Spec Ops: The Line« by Yager Interactive).

We decided to use that trend as a springboard for our communication strategy. This War of Mine was to be the »rebel« –  questioning the well-established status quo by introducing gamers to a new perspective on war. A strong idea, as we felt, but an easy one to implement. To succeed we had to use all the means at hand to underline our dissidence and prove its value.

Keeping it Short

What made the process of bringing the initial strategy to life more difficult was the fact that English is not our native language. The struggle started with the game’s title. The first version we had had was War of Mine and honestly we were quite happy with it, till one of our English-speaking colleagues asked if we actually had »mines« in our game? And if miners literally fought each other? The answer was »no«. So, we had to iterate. The funny part is that what helped was Guns N’ Roses and their song »Sweet Child O’Mine«. Take that, all you teachers dissing our music tastes in the 90s!

After we had adjusted the title, it definitely worked better. The structure itself was catchy and it stood out among the other titles. To make things even, better it was descriptive and pulled all the right strings. »I am the game about war« it was saying, »but with a personal perspective«. Having this part laid out, we moved to the tagline. First of all, we felt it could become handy as part of planned activities and secondly, being able to enclose your whole premise in a short sentence organizes your communication and helps with the prioritization of what and how to say it. A good tagline should do for your communication what a good punchline does for a joke. Basically sum it up, but in a smart way. Being simple and being obvious are not the same things. We wanted people to easily understand what This War of Mine was and intrigue them a bit. As David Ogilvy (note: a former British advertising tycoon) once said »You can’t bore people into buying your product«.

We wrote a whole bunch of proposals. Some were too long (»In war there are those who fight and those who try to survive«) or too obvious. It took us a while but we ended up with: »In war, not everyone is a soldier«. It was memorable, had kind of a melody to it and most importantly, provided the shift of perspective we craved for. Also, you could easily fit it on the key visuals and that is always helpful.

The Value of Consistency

Having the whole foundation laid out, it was crucial for us to maintain a coherent tonality. We wanted our campaign to be recognizable. Remember, that having no track record, we had to build the game’s perception from scratch. Seeing the ad for the next »Call of Duty« you know what to expect. Buying the game from Paradox, you also can predict what it would offer in terms of experience. Encountering This War of Mine, you knew close to nothing, so establishing its’ identity was crucial. We wanted people to get more and more familiar with our game every time they encountered one of our marketing assets, so after some time they would be able to recognize This War of Mine on the spot. To achieve that, all the pieces, while not repetitive, had to have the same denominator  –  the premise laid out in the initial strategy. We not only had to maintain consistent aesthetics but also to focus on key features and values specific for our game. We decided that each and every piece we were about to produce had to be

– Serious  –  there was no space for jokes or winks. No breaking of the fourth wall. We were aware that we were touching serious matter, so we wanted to act respectfully.

– Non-military  –  This War of Mine was all about civilians. And we wanted to maintain that perspective all the time as this was one of the differentiators you could notice on the spot.

– Apolitical  –  while politics are highly subjective, human consequences are universal. Getting into politics you can way to easily divide people and trigger unnecessary conflicts. That was not our goal. We wanted to create and promote a human-centric experience people could relate to no matter what their views or beliefs.

– Insightfulness & humanism (two in one basically)  –  we wanted you, as a player, to identify and immerse. That was an important part of the experience which our game offered and we had to translate it into marketing, not losing anything in the process.

With that mainframe we were able to develop a sort of »language« that we tried to maintain for the whole campaign. It paid off, as every time we released a new piece of content (no matter the medium or format) it added to the overall perception of our game. With every release we stood out a bit more as people got a stronger and clearer image of what our game was and what it was not.

»Gamers just Wanna Have Fun«

Of course, sometimes being coherent meant we had to say »NO« to our gamers, and that is never easy. Especially when you have a committed and highly engaged community. For example, sometime after the release we started to receive requests for a zombie mode. It is understandable as »This War of Mine« has all the elements making it the perfect candidate for that sort of conversion. It is a survival game after all, with people crumped in half-destroyed buildings, trying to survive as long as possible. That’s something half of the zombie flicks are based on. But we did not want to do that as we strongly felt it would blur the identity of the game we had worked so hard on. Fortunately people understood our approach and respected our decision. The identity we created, while well-defined, was grim and quite far from what gamers are usually used to. That raised quite obvious questions about the »fun factor« of our game. But as Pawel  –  one of our writers  –  said while interviewed by Kotaku, with This War of Mine we never aimed at fun but rather a meaningful experience. We were ready to sacrifice what was necessary to maintain the big idea that fuelled the game. »Weren’t you scared?« ,  you may ask. Of course we were. But that was the only reasonable solution. There was no middle ground there if we were to achieve what we aimed for. I still meet people telling me that This War of Mine is their favourite game… they will never ever play again. And that is OK. Some people replay it multiple times. Some don’t. But they seldomly forget the experience they had with the game.

Putting the Cogs into Motion

Being indie meant that we had astrictly limited marketing budget, so our campaign relied mostly on widely understood digital media and key gaming events coverage. »Owned«  and »earned«  channels were crucial as we could afford only so much when it came to paid activities. Basically, we divided most of our attention between video production/distribution, social media presence, PR/e-PR activities and event coverage. Everything else followed but considering our headcount and the scale of the overall marketing investment, we couldn’t add much on top of these four pillars.

Video Marketing

Limited budget meant limited range of available touchpoints.

Video became the backbone of our production as the most appealing and most willingly consumed type of content at the time (and nowadays as well). It is no secret that game marketing heavily relies on videos. Trailers, »let’s plays«, »dev diaries«, you name it. Having that in mind, we planned all the key points in our campaign around some type of video content. Obviously we could not afford high fidelity, fully fledged cinematic trailers to which people have been accustomed by top tier AAA publishers, but a good idea works even when written on a napkin, as we believed. Over two years we released over a dozen if not more videos but few of them are especially worth mentioning. The announcement trailer aimed at introducing people to the core premise of the game. It was all about the new perspective on war. As it was the first one, we wanted to use a little trick basing on what our viewers were accustomed to. The idea was to open as if we had the next action-focused shooter and then make the shift introducing the civilians’ perspective. That way we could gain the necessary attention and present our idea in a clear and efficient manner. Simple as it was, it worked brilliantly. We didn’t show the gameplay, or even say what the genre was. The premise of the game proved to be enough to spark the conversation.

We introduced gameplay much later on in the campaign but even when our communication became much more gameplay-oriented, we stuck to the tonality and all the strategic assumptions. The stories we were telling and the features we were revealing were new every time but at the same time each video was expanding on the »civilians in a time of war« concept. No exceptions. Preparing our first gameplay trailer we decided to use Polish song, titled »Zegarmistrz wiatła Purpurowy« as a background to the story we were to tell. We were concerned about whether it’s gonna work, considering the fact that most of our audience doesn’t know the language, but finally we had decided that the emotional package it carries is language-neutral and should work universally. The reception of the video proved us right. The funny part is that our video enhanced the popularity of the song abroad and right now you can find a lot of comments on Youtube by people who actually found the song because of our trailer.

Another video, which we consider to be a milestone, happened not long before the release of the game. Some time into the campaign we received a message from Emir  –  a survivor of the siege of Sarajevo  –  who complimented the game and compared it to his own personal experiences. Fascinated by his story, we invited him to share it with us, and he happened to be kind enough to accept the invitation. Shortly afterwards, he visited us in Warsaw where we taped a video together that later, supplemented with elements of gameplay, became the launch trailer. The lesson here is that sometimes the universe works in your favour and gives you opportunities to learn, to create and to enhance whatever you do. What is crucial is to push all you have to make each and every one of these opportunities count. Not always will everything work but once it does  –  it does for real.

Patryk Grzeszczuk

  is Marketing Director at 11 bit Studios,

focusing on game marketing and

digital communication

The post A Virtual Experience That Made A Real Difference [part I] appeared first on Making Games.

A Virtual Experience That Made A Real Difference [part I] published first on https://thetruthspypage.tumblr.com/

[burndownthehousetonight]

((I just finished up an RP with @wolvesbotsetc! It’s kind of short, but for something that was finished in about a day, it was pretty lengthy! All y’all go check his blog out, he’s a cool dude! ❤))

It was almost too perfect. No, not the junior police officers who just had to chase after some suspected thief and be the hero of the day, but where he ended up. A long-abandoned city townhouse with the only back entrance being the broken fire escape? It was too crazy to think someone would jump onto something that broken, yet alone in this kind of pouring rain. Especially not some fresh-off-the-press officers with the combined abilities of a termite. The clutter from his cheap backpack was thankfully inaudible over the pounding storm. The sound of the officers' footsteps fading away from the building was replaced by the sound of rain echoing through the building. It was strangely soothing, given how violent the rain itself was. And it looked like some old furniture was left in this mess dating back for decades. It was definitely robbed of anything of value long before, but maybe it would be a fun place to snoop around. As the hedgehog walked around, he would hear a small buzzing behind a door, something… mechanical. No breathing could be heard, just… buzzing. As he walked forward, a small light could be seen under the door. Was someone actually here? Or was it just some strange valuable that stayed on this whole time? Impossible. This place must have been left to rot in the nineties, there's no way anything from then would still be running. He waited and watched. The same buzz and glow. The echoes made it hard to concentrate, but he was sure he didn't hear any breathing. Maybe someone left something in here? A flashlight, probably. He technically wasn't wrong. There was an electronic left in the building. But it wasn't a flashlight, or anything he might have expected or even thought of. He didn't expect an entire robot with eyes that appeared to be the guts of flashlights repurposed into the voids of the face, like some strange Frankenstein's monster of engineering. Its cold eyes and segmented tail reminiscent of a spine would have been terrifying normally, except... was it cold? It was covered in water and appeared to be shivering. For as unnatural as it looked, it acted strangely natural. Not just natural, but vulnerable. "Uh... Are you alright?" Rob looked up before letting a few sparks fly, apparently the source of the buzzing. “Who are you,” it said in a low, blunt voice. “I can’t imagine you own these shambles.” He said, trying to get up before sparking and falling. “Error: Water levels too high for movement function, rust levels 60%,” before going back to it’s regular voice. “Great… can’t move til I dry now… probably shouldn’t have let it all seep in…” he said to himself. Manic had heard his brother speak tall tales of fighting a robot version of himself. He dismissed it as garbage. Now he realized that these kinds of robots might not have been as impossible as he thought. He looked around, but there was nothing like a towel or rag in the area. All he had was an athletic backpack and... "Uh, here, dude, would this help?" He put his backpack down on the ground and took off his vest. It was slightly damp - Manic had thankfully gotten out of the rain barely after it started. There was a moment of hesitation before he stepped forward, and placed it over the robot's chest like it was a towel. "You are- You're a real robot. I'm not seeing things or anything, right?" But the rust felt real enough, and the arms were far too thin for this to be some intricate costume. Somehow, this wasn't fake. The bot looked at him, grimacing. “Oh yes, I’m a big ball of flesh and fur underneath a big hunk of metal. That’s why I’m shooting sparks, and why I’m repeating error messages I’m forced to report whenever I’m waterlogged. Totally a mobian,” he replied, jerking the towel away from him and wiping himself off. "Alright, I gave you my vest so you WOULDN'T be sparking and making error messages." Manic fired back. "Now are you gonna drop the sass and let me help you out, or do you want me to jet and leave you to rust in this dump?" A completely hollow threat, but Manic didn't ever want to put up with this kind of sarcasm. He stood up, and looked around, still in disbelief. "If you're done being salty, I'm gonna check the other rooms for bedsheets or whatever." He hurried out into the other rooms, scanning around and eventually stumbling across a tired and weathered old bedsheet. It was full of holes, but it was the best they had for the situation. That situation being absolutely bizarre, of course. What the hell had he just stumbled across? The bot watched him as he got back. “Why are you here anyways, huh? You have to be hiding from someone. And considering I’ll be here, and you’re seeming to make yourself at home, I assume you’ll be here too. So spill.” "No one likes a snoop, buddy." Manic said. "I'm helping you out here, ain't I?" He knelt down next to him, half wanting to slap his metal face and wholly wanting him to stop bugging him. The sheets weren't comfortable to the touch, but they absorbed water just fine. Not that it mattered much, given how rusty he was. He kept giving Manic that glare. "Alright, you want an answer? I'm a thief." He lifted the robot's arm, and started patting it with the sheet. "But I ain't robbing anyone randomly. Some dude was being a dick to me, so I was a dick and took some random crap from him. You happy?" The cat nodded, “I see…” he said, looking off as he dried himself as best he could, before handing the rest of the blanket to the hedgehog. “You want something to listen to?” He asked from out of nowhere, looking at the other. Manic looked out through the hole where a window once sat. The rain was coming down just as hard, and it seemed like this guy wasn't going to be able to leave any time soon. Besides, he didn't want to get drenched, either. "Uh- let's try this again, dude." He sighed out, still slightly bitter. "I'm Manic. I mean, if you wanna listen to something, go ahead, but how-" This was the first time he really noticed the two antennaes he had instead of ears. He tuned through the variety of stations, a mix of sup-par popular music stations and more decent variety shows. "Wait, dude, uh-" He didn't want to say anything TOO stupid. "You ever tune in to the really low frequency stations? There're some really good music stations down there, and some reeeeeeally bad ones." The cat gave him a slightly odd look, but nodded, going lower, tuning into a few number stations, amateur kids trying to do radio, before finally settling on a hard rock station, turning it to a low volume and letting the music play through speakers buried in his chest. “Rob,” he said, holding out his hand. “Not a fan of my name, but it’s what the creator wanted so… apparently he likes puns.” Manic gave an approving nod and returned the handshake in a way he would call casual and cool, but anyone else would call lazy. "Please tell me your full name ain't robot," he said, visibly cringing at the thought. "That'd be like naming your kid 'spawn' or 'offspring', wouldn't it?" No, he didn't want to insult his name any more. "I mean, you've got good taste in music, but I thought you'd WANT to be all sassy?" Manic joked. He kept staring at his acquaintance, and the strangely natural ways his body moved and folded as he moved. "I'm sorry, dude, I ain't ever met a robot before, this is a lot to take in." He noticed a plug on the back of his neck. He hadn't seen this kind of socket on any modern equipment. Combined with the rust, he was clearly older than he was designed to look. "Who are you? Like, aside from just a sassy robot, I mean." He let out a soft sigh. “You’d be half wrong. Full name is Ro-bert. It sucks in every aspect of the word,” he scoffed, before answering the hedgehog. “I was made… 42 years ago. I was meant to be a butler of the future… look how well that turned out.” He sighed. “I think I was deactivated…. 10 years after I was actually made." "Deactivated?" It caught Manic off-guard. "You were in some kind of statis, or whatever?" There were probably times when any of this rust could have been removed or prevented, but that was clearly no longer the case. He must have simply reactivated one day with new newfound decay. "Woah... That's some heavy stuff." He never wanted to be heavy. His brother was Sonic, of course he liked being goofy and excited. As he looked at Rob and started desperately hoping that Rob wasn't going to think of it as creepy, he noticed how plain his metal was. Not that it was ugly, but there wasn't any branding or anything of the sort. "I mean, dude, you don't have Rob printed on you or anything. Hell, even if it was, it must've rotted away by now. You can choose a name for yourself, people do it all the time." He made a grin that, even to a robot, said that there was something mischievous rattling around his brain. "Maybe 'Salty'? Or 'Smarmy Boy'?" The robot looked at him. “You will call me nothing of the sort. And I have no name I like more, I hate them all. I don’t understand why names are even used, it could just be numbers or something of the sort.” "Okay, I'm gonna sound real nancy for saying this," Manic said, already laughing at his doubtless ridiculous response. "But my sis? She's got a kid, and she says it's all about 'having a WISH for your CHILD!'" He enunciated everything in that overly snobby tone her husband used. "Like Sonia? It means wisdom, I think. You name your kid Sonic; It means fast, so you want him to be fast. You name your kid Manic; It's a kind of depression, so he's gonna get diagnosed with depression." Given his chuckle, he clearly wasn't broken up about that fact. "Hold on, I like giving people nicknames, gimme a second." He looked at rob as he was drying. Of course, a bunch of very silly ideas came to mind, although maybe calling him 'killbot seventeen' or 'Yog Sothoth's Automaton of Ultimate Death' would have been insensitive. But hell, his only experience with robots was bad horror and sci-fi movies, and this dude was just basically a normal guy who couldn't handle the rain. ...Right, he forgot about the rain. "Uh, dude, you feeling any better? You think you can move now? The robot tried to get up, wincing at the thought of falling down and repeating damn error messages. Remarkably though, he was fine. “Seems most things have dried up,” he replied back, giving a small smirk. “Thank you, Manic,” he said, before sitting back down. “Though it’s not much help if I can’t leave but… at least I can walk.” "Whaddya mean, not much help?" Manic scoffed. "You've got walking legs and like, three empty, decrepit awful rooms in some crappy building to explore. That's more than two rooms! You telling me you can't stay entertained with all of the option you have?" "Hey, speaking of entertaining," Manic said, "If you wanna be smarmy, remember when I said there's weird stuff on low frequency stations? I found this one channel, and- I think some dude just got a transmitter, and he's trying to do his own show? It's just the dumbest conspiracy theories, like, all day. If we're stuck here, might as well riff on something that ain't my face, you know? Wanna check it out?" As joking and silly as Manic was, he clearly wasn't stuck here. But Rob sure was. And even if he did have stolen goods on hand, he still wasn't gonna get caught in somewhere like this. The robian tuned in, before looking over. "So why are you still here?” He asked, looking over “You aren’t stuck here, and it’s been silent outside for ages now” "Eeeh, more than before." It was still raining, but the pop-up shower had let up to a more moderate rainfall, rather than the buckets earlier. "I mean, you're still stuck here 'til the rain's over, right? You shouldn't just sit around in some dump alone for a while. Especially if you're gonna need maintenance like that, or whatever. Suffering's better with someone else, you know?" Manic didn't seem to get how thoughtful his sentiment was. He just sat where he was near Rob, listening to the radio station he tuned in. Odd, he wasn't mocking it or anything. The robot let out a sigh, looking down. “I don’t really need maintenance, and I've been a loner for most of my reactivation time… it’s not that terrible to be alone in my opinion…” he said, trailing off into thought. He couldn't see any kind of controls for the radio, they must have all been internal. Still, as Rob trailed off into thought, so did the volume until it was just a murmur. "I mean, yeah, I get that, dude." Manic finally responded with. "But I mean, company don't hurt, either." Still, they had gotten off on the wrong foot. Maybe he wasn't over Manic's sass yet. "Do you want me to go, dude?" The robot shook his head. “I don’t mind either way. I'd probably leave too if it weren't for the rain…” he said, before his right pupil light flickered off. “Shitty bulbs…” That was just sad. The rust and earlier errors were enough to make Manic sympathize, but one of his eyes blowing out? It looked like he was just falling apart in front of Manic. He should have found meeting an anthropomorphic robot cool. But he was very far past his prime, and if his creators abandoned him, he was likely far away from anyone who knew how to repair him. Manic opened his backpack. All of the things he'd taken from that guy who used to live a few apartments down from Manic were just meaningless trinkets, none of which had any kind of bulbs attached. "Alright, if I'm not wrong, I think there's an electronics shop like two blocks away? You know what bulb that is? If you're fine waiting, I could pop out and get you a new one." He couldn't help being a sentimental person. He couldn't leave someone alone in this state! “I need no fixing,” he stated. “I’m a shamble already, nothing can fix that. I’m better off falling apart until I’m a mangle of machinery and rusted metal. Just like the living things of this earth. I've served my purpose, apparently poorly at that,” he said, “don’t waste your time.” "Because you're a lost cause at this point," Manic said, almost sounding annoyed or moching. "You had potential, but you failed to serve it, and don't have any more potential, so you have to make due, and all that shit." Manic looked almost angry at this point. Some switch inside him had been flipped. "What, you think you're the first person to think these thoughts? Tons of us have had to live with self loathing. I know what you're gonna say, so don't insult yourself, mate. You're a sentient robot built on antiquated tech, you know how incredible that is? You know how incredible you could be with a few modern upgrades? You know how much you could do if you DON'T give up and let yourself rot away." He was standing now, almost shouting his words at him. "You're NOT a waste of space, and don't give me that 'wasted purpose' bullshit." He squatted down, getting on eye level with him. "Now, you're dropping the loathing bullshit, and you're telling me what kinda bulb that is, and you're letting me help you clean up. Got it?" “You aren’t doing shit for me. You aren’t my creator, you aren’t my owner, you're just some thief who happened upon me. And I don’t want to be upgraded. I don’t want to have to be shut down yet again just for someone to put me in some new material or do some stupid shit for me just so it can degrade and rust again, and again, and again. If I am turned off again, I want to stay off, so I never have to stand on the planet and wonder what my purpose is as everything around me gets replaced. People, plants, buildings, planets, everything that lives gets replaced by something better, and they want everything they have to be replaced by better and better things. I want to stay the same, damnit. I’m not replacing this bulb, and you aren’t about to fix me.” Manic listened. He listened to every word, and absorbed every meaning. "Like I said, you think you're the first person to have these thoughts?" He said quietly. "Everyone's looking for a purpose, a meaning, whatever. And yeah, watching the world and all this crap get replaced is shitty. But you ain't the fashion or phones or whatever that change overnight, you've got a consciousness. Even if it's old 70s hardware, you're a person. A robotic, metal person, but you're still a damn person. And conciousness doesn't just change in a night." He squatted in front of Rob as he spoke. "If you want to stay the same and enjoy what you've got, good. That's what every other Mobian's living with. But you clearly don't wanna rust. Yeah, you say you hate yourself, and you say you wanna rot, but what about when you get waterlogged, hm? What about when you're rusting to death in some pile of rubble? You snatched my vest immediately, don't act like you hesitated. You don't want this to happen, and you know it. And even if you still wanna die for some reason, I'm watching you have a good time those last few days, got it?" He spoke strangely severely. "You ain't dying miserably on my watch. And again," he said as he pointed and waved his finger at Rob, "You're dropping the loathing bullshit, and you're telling me what kinda bulb that is, and you're letting me help you clean up. Got it?" “I don’t say I want to die, I say if I die I don’t want to wake up again. The void is nice. I don’t have to think, I don’t have to do. what pains me is when I have to be powered back on by some flesh person, I have to have every single idea, every single memory, every single movement pushed back into my soul, as I start up. Imagine if when you woke up from your “sleep” and had every single memory, good, bad, or indifferent, shoved back into your mind, and you have to watch them flood back in. Imagine suddenly having to relearn every single thing your body does in the blink of an eye, from the legs up. It’s utter hell, not to mention if someones crammed an upgrade into you, or a new outer casing, or some other shitty thing that’ll break down in 5 years, you have to have all that memory shoved into you too.” He said, staring at the hedgehog with a piercing, 1 eyed one voided gaze. “You wouldn’t want to sleep ever again, would you?” Manic stared back, racing for something to say. But there was nothing he could say. It was such an extreme case, he couldn't relate himself to anything that was coming out of his mouth. It did sound like torture, Manic couldn't argue anything he said. He just had to take every word he said. "I guess I've got no idea what you're going through, dude." He spoke gently. "I really do wanna help, dude, but I guess I've got normal Mobian problems. I think I'd say the same things." He sighed. "But people can still help you, dude, without turning you off. If you don't feel pain, you could get like, patchwork metal attached if you want that. I guess if you don't ever want to have to start up, then don't let yourself turn off. But you already know that." The moment was uncomfortable, and the damp air didn't help. "Are you gonna be alright? Like, mentally?" He sighed. “I wasn’t built to have sanity, so there’s no point in asking that…” he said, laying down and looking up. “40 watt bulb, as long as it’s a screw in it should work,” he finally muttered, sighing. “Be quick.” Manic hesitated for a moment, before giving him a pat on the shoulder and bolting out of the building. He'd walked in worst rain storms than this. It was just water, he'd be fine. He thought over every word Rob had said time and time again, trying to come up with something he could say that might have helped. Something silly, or serious, just something that wouldn't make him feel worse than Manic likely already made him feel. He was gone and back in maybe ten minutes tops. "Alright, they had the same brand at this place, so you're in luck." Manic sat down next to Rob, hesitating fiddling with his eyes. "Uh, this isn't gonna hurt, is it?" But the replacement was easy, simply removing one appliance bulb and putting in another. Although from as little time as they'd spent together, Rob knew that smug, mischievous grin meant he probably had another dumb joke in mind. "Hey, you won't beleive what they had." Manic reached into the bag, and pulled out- was that just a metal box? "I think it's supposed to be something you put circuitry in, or something? I mean, it looks pretty close to these curves on your arm," he explained, indicating a hole rusted into his arm. "I've got a soldering iron back in my van, we could probably cut it to shape and get that baby covered up." The cat shook his head. “I don’t need it, I work fine without any metal there,” he said, sighing as the light flickered back into existence. “But thank you…” he said, looking over. “So… after this… what next? You just gonna go steal more stuff?” Manic laughed and smiled. "The days when I needed to steal to get by are loooong gone, dude. I've got other jobs and hobbies and crap!" He smiled, and looked away. "Actually, I do a lot of music stuff. I'm a singer and a drummer. Sometimes guitar, but my playing's kinda... Meh?" He wiggled his hand and grimaced as he spoke. "I was just gonna head home and get tuned up, but I've got a show tonight. There's this pizza place near that Honey Clothing store, 'Meltdown', that I play at weekly. Every Thursday at eight." He smirked, and looked over at him. Despite what he said next, he said it like any other joke, sticking his tongue out and making a stupid grin. "So, you wanna come and watch? The self-loathing brigade needs to stick together, after all." The cat shrugged. “Maybe if the rain lets up before that… not like I have anything else to do that is,” he said, shrugging. "Don't get too excited," Manic sassed. He quickly regained his normal happy tone, reaching under his vest. "Hey, I always have some of my CDs with me." He rummaged through a hidden pocket, pulling out a CD with a surprisingly 80s styles label. "I dunno if you've got a player, but if you do... Want a taste before you see it live? Or wanna experience the real deal?" The cat looked at him, shaking his head. “No cd player that I know of, and i know everything about my body… so…” "Come on, you're a futuristic robot! Just cram it in your mouth, chomp it down! That probably wouldn't kill you dead!" Manic was back to his goofy ways. "Well, whatever, dude, guess you're hearing it all live. Don't worry, it ain't screamo or anything. Come on, have a good time, just distract yourself from your bad thoughts and have some fun!" As much as he joked and messed around, he was still somewhat taken aback by everything Rob shouted at him. "Hey, uh, do you have a phone or anything?" He said, reaching back into his vest and pulling out his own. "I know what that stuff's like. If you ever want to just hang out on a bad day or rant it out or whatever, you can hit me up, alright? You want my number?" The cat nodded, as he pulled out a phone from an inner storage area on his leg. “Only text though, phones don’t pick up my voice,” he said. "Really? That's kinda wicked," Manic admitted. He started pressing Rob's number into his phone. "But seriously, dude, I know you don't think much of yourself, and I know you don't think you're programmed for sanity, but don't let those kinds of thoughts run you, alright? People don't just wanna watch each other suffer, they wanna see each other thrive. People are good, dude." "...Even if they're just street thieves with bad hair." Maybe he wasn't the laughing type, but he was still starting to enjoy the time they spent together. And hell, maybe if he chose the right songs, he could get some genuine smiles out of him at the show later. "The rain's starting to clear up, I think. You mind if I head out, dude? I gotta get ready for the show." The robot nodded, heading off to the fire escape to look out and check, soon confirming that the rain had stopped. He stepped out, before looking at the hedgehog. “See you there”. With that, he walked off. Manic watched him walk away for a moment... and then turned around to grab his bag. He had a lot to do. He had to put on clothes that didn't smell like a decayed building, he had to get ready for his set... ...and he had to put together the perfect set list to make sure he'd get a smile out of him.

[viralhottopics]

Armando Iannucci on Donald Trump: ‘This is the best moment, isn’t it?’

An open letter to the new president, from the creator of Veep and The Thick of It

Even when silent, you sound loud. You are, in fact, an avalanche of contradictions: real and unreal, scary yet amusing, fact and fiction rolled into one like a little rubber Mount Rushmore blown up to actual size by the use of helium. You confuse us. We want to laugh at your stumbles, but are petrified by what those stumbles may lead to. You are the worst person ever; and yet not as bad as Mike Pence.

But you do have a definite sense of purpose. While Hillary Clinton hedged and played the game, you said it straight. Youve been very clear: deport, build, repeal, replace. Everywhere you go, you shatter ossified politics. You slice through frozen convention like an icebreaker: set on a steady forward direction, leaving a stinking slick of oil and dead fish parts in its wake.

It was worth it, though, because of where you are now. This is the best moment, isnt it? Just as youve taken the oath of office, but still not worn down by that office. Frozen in your moment of history. All those doubters, the mewling enemies and haters, are silenced now: you are the 45th president of the US. Thats a fact. Its true.

They used to tease you about your attitude to the truth, didnt they? All your post-reality fictoid-facts, like how global warming was a myth invented by the Chinese, how you respected all women without exception, except the greedy, grasping, ugly ones who were trying to suck you dry, how Obama wasnt born in America, and also how you put everyone right when you said he was.

And that rigged election: you had evidence the election was rigged against you and you were going to lose, and then, when you won it fair and square, you had proof you would have won it even more fairly and squarely had it not been rigged against you so you couldnt win so bigly. And now they say the Russians rigged the election, and you say the election wasnt rigged, it was never rigged, and youve been saying for months: it was never rigged.

Some screwball no-mark in some pointless department will end up saying the wrong thing about China. Photograph: Andrew Harnik/AP

Yes, you were mocked nightly by damp-souled liberals who joked you couldnt tell fact from fantasy. Well, guess what? If you now tweeted, I am the 45th president of the United States, not a single person would doubt you. Because its true. Youre the president. Fact! No scientist, no economist, no so-called expert can call you out. You are literally the most important man on Earth, in the solar system, maybe even the galaxy. Right now, everything in the universe revolves around you.

But then comes the hard bit. The bit after this week. The rest of the presidency. Thats the bit others say cant be controlled. Something will go wrong. Some screwball no-mark in some pointless department will answer a letter to an elector, and end up saying the wrong thing about China, or single moms, or car manufacturers, or dyslexia, thinking that theyre echoing your opinion. Then your enemies will report it, and then people will think it came from you. Then your press secretary will deny thats what you meant and blame the no-mark, and name her. Then the no-mark will complain about sexism or bullying or some such artificial crime. Then youll act big, go against expectations, and apologise to that person.

Then some other people, your enemies, will imply youre a pussy. Your staff who attacked her and defended you, will express annoyance that you are contradicting what theyre saying. Then the person you apologised to, well, shell get arrogant and say how upset she was by what happened, and then youll have to tweet what she was really like when you met her, how annoying she was, how shes just looking for a bigger job and a TV contract, and how youre going to ask Congress to look into that department she works for and find out whats going on.

But, even then, it wont go away, and therell be maybe a hundred other little, stupid stories like that which will never leave you alone, all because other people are fools and losers. And so one night, youll tweet something bad about China and single moms and car manufacturers and dyslexics, all in one tweet, and the whole cycle will start all over again, and take up so much time, itll look like that wall will never get built.

And so, for the next four years, youll try to do stuff. With luck, the next eight years. (If your plan comes right, the next 12, even 16 years, too.) But this crap will keep coming up, wont it? This not-smart, so-overrated nonsense from the false media, determined to undermine you. Theyll say youre mishandling foreign affairs, causing conflict and hardship, arousing enmity, bitterness and division. Its all designed to make people not like you, isnt it? But you can get round that. You will tell people, again and again, that they do like you. That everything else theyve heard isnt true. And it will work. It always works.

If a war breaks out, isnt it more efficient to persuade people that it isnt happening? Photograph: John Gurzinski/AFP/Getty Images

You will explain that the things that come from your mouth are not necessarily the things that come from your heart. You will remind people that things are true not when they are real but when you believe them. You will urge the media to concentrate on covering peoples fears and feelings, rather than the dull objects and information that clutter up their potentially beautiful lives.

Why dont crime reporters report that people feel a bit funny about Mexicans? Why dont economists measure how freaked out people are about what might happen to their jobs one day, especially if your enemies were in charge? Why dont the weather people point out, at the end of the show, just how everyone is feeling so much better because of the work youre doing, and how thats making them cope with whatever rain or cloud comes their way? Why dont newscasters show the graphs that prove that anyone who fires a gun in America might well be a Muslim?

Of course, the liberal media will have fun, wont they, doing their little crazy skits about how theres no need for reporters any more because we just have to say whatever it is we think sounds true. Over now to our Chief-Bad-Feeling-About-China correspondent; We join our crime correspondent live outside the home of a suspicious couple new to the neighbourhood who keep themselves to themselves; And thats all weve got time for. Join us tomorrow night at seven for another edition of What The Hells Going On? Unfunny. You havent seen these skits (they havent been written), but theyre just so lame, arent they?

No, how you govern will be so special, and so different from that pathetic portrayal. Youre going to bring into your administration a whole heap of talented people who will oversee a climate change in the way facts are considered. You will bring in financial experts who will reassure everyone that, no matter what the markets say, everyone is, in fact, fine. You will bring in law experts who will prove categorically that anyone who feels their civil liberties are being infringed are themselves infringing the civil liberties of the vast majority who voted to change them. And, above all, you will persuade everyone, especially those who tell you that you polled nearly three million votes fewer than Hillary, that you do have a mandate since you believe you do, and it feels like the vast majority of people believe you do, too. And thats evidence no money can buy.

Thats how you will govern. Properly, effectively. Why, if the economy goes bad, or promised laws arent passed, or a war breaks out, why spend time and money and precious energy dealing with those things? Isnt it more efficient to persuade people that they arent happening? Think what money that would save, putting dollars back in the pocket of every American. You will do a deal with the American people, a great big beautiful deal, the ultimate deal, and they will absolutely love it. What youve done is started a revolution, a movement. Youve taught people to believe not what is empirically true but what is emotionally true, which is a better truth. Youve set free the credulity of the people.

So here is another undeniable fact. Soon the consequences of what you are doing will spread throughout the world. And, once done, they cant be undone. Yes, you will be remembered for a very, very long time. Fact.

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from Armando Iannucci on Donald Trump: ‘This is the best moment, isn’t it?’