#broad-guage | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

brooklynislandgirl · 1 year

Text

@tangleweave asked:

Eddie plucks a French fry from the oversized sleeve and plunges it into his equally oversized chocolate mocha shake, chuckling as his gaze sweeps from Beth to the view they have of the Bay. A date? In broad daylight? Given their respective night lives, it's maybe the least crazy thing of all. The bench they share is far larger than they actually need; he's already seen her glancing toward his lap a couple of times and imagines she's probably gauging how much it would matter if she just poured herself into it.

All she really has to do is ask. And even then... she doesn't really have to. He knows he'd welcome her there with a smile no less broad than the one he wears now.

"All right, so, yeah, Mrs. Chen doesn't, like, try to sic me on bad guys or anythin' like that, but ever since that day? She definitely gets that look in her eye like... 'I could just call Eddie, They'd probably take care'uh this idiot.' Dunno what to make'uh that, 'cause she's never done it, actually I never gave her my number, but somehow I feel like she's got me on speed-dial."

He chuckles again, then looks back to Beth. God, she looks just perfect with that sprinkle-covered ice cream cone in hand and her heart in her eyes. "Okay, so, your turn. An' I wanna really know. What was it about Us... not me, not Him, but Us... that really caught you? Like, when you saw Us for the first time... an' when you see Us now? What..." He stops and chuckles again. "Feels like a dumb question. But, what do We make you feel like?"

A Little Me, A Little You || Accepting

Lāʻau Make || Venom Lethal Protector || Venom au

He teases her sometimes, when she chooses to take a mental health day and tells him, with certain seriousness, that she's 'too rich f' work today'. Few and far between as they are ~she and Eddie have an inborn work ethic that makes it hard to justify being selfish~ this is the claim she made when one little wrist snaked out from beneath the covers and retrieved her phone. She texted her DON and her clinic in record time, then not caring what happened to the device, she'd moulded herself to his back. Nuzzled the channel of his spine, breathed him in. Muttered the phrase and as her hand slid around his hip with a mind of its own, she determined that he too had to call out. And here they are, looking out over the Bay, her Mother's currents strong today. The waves whisper softly and maybe the weather is too cool for ice-cream. She justifies braving the chill because she knows Eddie runs hot, hotter than normal and she guages the distance between them, wondering what it would take to breach the space. To pour herself into his lap and maybe squish herself inside of his hoodie so that she can steal some of that comforting warmth. She has enough manners waiting until he ~and through him, Beloved~ has a chance to finish eating. In the meanwhile, she listens with abject adoration written in her features and eyes swimming with all those feelings she never really talks about out loud, as he talks about his experiences with Mrs Chen, though for the life of her, she can't remember what the question was that she initially asked. Occasionally she licks at the melting ice-cream from her waffle-cone, a scoop of haupia flavoured with rainbow sprinkles ~she still thinks it weird that he sometimes calls them Jimmies, the way Andy used to, and she'd once teased that she has a more formal relationship, and they prefer her to call them James. After that, they became sprinkles again~ and while the gesture is sensual, it isn't intentional. That look of utter adoration freezes on her lips when she watches the question form on his lips and in a moment of rare and pure trust, she blinks fully. Even in sleep her eyes rarely close to the full extent, and she's always given the impression that she is missing a nictitating membrane. The blush that makes strides towards her cheeks starts somewhere around the neckline of her sundress. "I...uhm." Eddie is too familiar with that false start but is kind enough to know better than throw a flag on the play. She is far too sensitive to take it well especially when it comes to navigating the complex feelings she harbours, the ones as deep or deeper as her beloved sea and nearly as primordial. Eddie knows it took some time for her to connect with him, days of simply sitting beside him in silence, then a trickle of words. She was never afraid of how massively larger he is than her. She's never been afraid of him hurting her ~reasons that wouldn't become clear until the night they shared knowledge of his Klyntar and her ancestry and mana~ and when it comes to the melding of man and alien, their version of Standing Jaws, it's exactly her ancestry that touches everything. She'd never been afraid of Beloved, either. If anything He brought out the desire to nurture and protect Him for the rare and beautiful Creature He is. But together? She lets out a shiver of breath. "Clearly, by da time you told me about Him, I'd already fallen for you. An' in all of my life, I've nevah seen someone as beautiful as He is, all on His own. You, Beloved, are... da epitome of One who Became Two, t' me. I t'ink I was a little in awe of you, of Him. Lil bit like bein' kahuna an' seein' a miracle unfold before ya eyes." That might sound silly, considering her mana allows her to alter reality at whim according to the spheres she's talented in but it does not make her words untrue. "Dere is a poverty of words in da ones I know to truly describe you bo'd when ya Venom. It goes beyond desire or lust. It expands into somet'ing...holy f' me dat I feel profane in knowin' d'ough dat ya bo'd make my knees weak an' set my blood on fire. Makes me...makes me t'ink mebbe Grandmaddah intended dis ~two of ya~ f' me. Make me feel... hanau Po'ele i ka po he wahine, first woman. Look wi' new created eyes on my intended mate." There's a dangerous confession in those words, more than just the L word, if he knew how to read between her lines, or if They could feel the echoing ache inside of her right now. The desire for the ice cream in hand wanes to nothingness and she switches hands holding it to take up the recyclable cup that her water had come in. She drains the remains dry, then lifts the lid, to fit her cone inside. Maybe she'll finish it later. She sets the cup down at her feet, then draws her legs up onto the bench, leaning toward Eddie to a slight degree. That flush of her skin deepens and takes on a shade of not-quite-fear, but something similar. What she chooses to tell Them borders on blasphemous, a voluntary revealing of secrets long held by her kin. "Not only do you both resemble to Haole depictions of Kōjin, as dey call my Samebito family, but in Venom, I see so many of our sacred laws. You're respectful to membahs of ya tribe, an' dose who know you as deir Let'al Protector honour Ya in return. You care for da people most turn away from; ones dat struggle, ones dat have no kine t' give in return, ones who would be used, abused, discarded by almost anyone. You see dishonour as a mark of lower beings, an' ya even fight fair wi' ya mortal enemy; I know, you have bo'd share wi' me stories of you an' Spidah-Man. An' every day ya learn an' grow. You help protect da territory granted by Grandmaddah, wheddah ya know it or not. Five of da six rules right dere. I was never once afraid of You, even with Your teeth deep in my flesh and bone. "But even wi' out all of dat, dere is no one I trust more, an' I would like t' t'ink dat if da kine was different between us, if You'd have chosen someone else, dat we would still find some way to be part of each oddah lives." There it is, that little bit of doubt in her voice. The very fear that lives inside her that she will never, no matter how hard she tries, be good enough. The damage that began in her infancy at the hands of her father, reinforced by others who had abandoned her whether willing or not. It lives just as clearly in her eyes and trembles in her voice as her earlier affections. But before Eddie or Beloved can make some sort of gesture or comment to set her at ease, she surges forward. The way her knees edge around his hips and the way her arms wend around his shoulders are a perfect mimic of the night she and Eddie chased their first foray into passion, the same night that he introduced her to Beloved. But rather than chasing sharp kisses around the thickness of his neck, or along his shoulders, she tucks her head down so her forehead rests against Their steady heartbeat. "What was true first time I saw ya, is true now, an' will be as long as dere is brea'd in me. I belong t' ya bo'd. Jus' as you bo'd belong t' me."

~*~

attractiveness:

repulsive / hideous / ugly / not attractive / unappealing / not unattractive / meh / no preference / ok / mildly attractive / nice looking / cute / adorable / attractive / pleasant on the eyes / good looking / hot / sexy / beautiful / gorgeous / hot damn / would tap that / perfect / godlike / holy fuck there are no words.

personality:

grating / irritating / frustrating / boring / confusing at best / awkward / unreasonable / psychotic / disturbing / interesting / engaging / affectionate / aggressive / ambitious / anxious / artistic / bad tempered / bossy / charismatic / appealing / unappealing / creative / courageous / dependable / unreliable / unpredictable / predictable / devious / dim / extroverted / introverted / egotistical / gregarious / fabulous / impulsive / intelligent / sympathetic / talkative / up beat / peaceful / calming / badass / flexible.

how likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending / fuck no! / never / no way / not likely / not sure / indifferent / I’m asexual / maybe / probably / it depends / fairly likely / likely / yeah sure / yes / would tap that / hell yes / fuck yes! / wishing that could happen right now / as many times as possible / we are already having sex.

level of friendship:

never in a million years / worst of enemies / enemies / rivals / indifferent / neutral / acquaintance / friendly toward each other / casual friends / friends / good friends / best friends / fuck buddies / bosom buddies / practically the same person / would die for them / true friends / my only friend.

first impression of them:

i hate them so much / i don’t like them / i don’t trust them / they annoy me / they’re weird / I’m indifferent / meh / they seem alright / they’re growing on me / truce / I think I like them / I like them / I’m not sure if I trust them / I trust them / they’re cool / they’re genuine / I think we’re going to get along / I really like them / I think I’m in love / oh fuck they’re hot / I love them.

current impression of them:

#Mahalo!Matt <333 #Kaiakahinali'i|Eddie Brock #Eidolon or Shadow|Venom #A Guy-A Girl-and Some Goo|Eddie-Beth-Beloved #Lethal Protector|Venom au {Torment verse?}#Mission in the Rain|San Francisco #California Screaming #terminally long post tw

1 note · View note

theblogs2024 · 1 year

Text

How To Boost Your Organization's ESG Profile

Environmental, social and governance (ESG) requirements are increasing in relevance as a method for buyers To guage businesses. Arising through the movement towards socially responsible investing, ESG looks at how enterprises tackle a host of challenges ranging from Strength use and squander administration to range and inclusion, worker welfare, Local community effects, ethical methods and a lot more.

Based on a report from your Forum for Sustainable and Responsible Investment decision, U.S. investors held $11.six trillion in assets chosen In accordance with ESG standards at first of 2018, up from $eight.one trillion just two a long time earlier. While this development dovetails with — or perhaps prompts — commitments in the corporate earth to elevate intent In combination with income, ESG isn't almost great vibes or maybe excellent PR. It seems that having a persuasive ESG profile is sweet for organization, as it's turning out to be a lens by which buyers — as well as buyers, staff members as well as other stakeholders — assess the id and efficacy of a corporation. For example, a 2018 Goldman Sachs report cited "increasing consensus that integrating materials ESG aspects correlates to extensive-time period economical returns," and Financial institution of The us Merrill Lynch's hottest ESG report notes that customers are significantly trying to have interaction with providers that "they consider are clear within their organization methods and serve a higher social intent."

As CEO of a firm whose mission is to electric power purpose-driven enterprise with know-how that engages employees, clients and communities about company social obligation (CSR) and day-to-day acts of goodness, these are typically data we love to see. They verify the adage of "carrying out well by executing fantastic" is a lot more than simply a catchy tag line. The truth is, several CSR method targets and outcomes mirror Those people measured by ESG, and as a result, businesses can and will use their CSR programs to be a lever for raising their ESG profile.

If your company views ESG as almost nothing a lot more than a series of packing containers you must Verify, nevertheless, you might be likely accomplishing it wrong. An effective ESG system will depend on building a company society in which initiatives directed at sustainability, social superior, transparent governance, ethical behaviors, etcetera. are built-in into your business's DNA. This implies these initiatives have to be genuine, inclusive, actionable and focused on driving a true-earth outcome, not merely an ESG score. Here i will discuss 3 tricks for fostering a tradition that By natural means contributes to favourable ESG results.

Broaden Your Definition Of CSR

What we predict of as common corporate philanthropy — top rated-down, at the time-a-yr, "produce a check for the yearly fundraiser" — isn't ample to truly renovate a society. Corporate function spans a lot more than simply donating resources to charity (Though supplying is certainly Element of the equation). Businesses will need infrastructure in position to support routines ranging from giving and volunteering to activism, mentorship, board support, sustainability initiatives and much more. Additionally they require to consider integrating CSR stakeholders with horizontally concentrated teams like HR, promoting and, perhaps most notably, amongst company foundations and also the enterprise. In this way, CSR can Perform a worthwhile function in orchestrating, monitoring and sustaining the corporation-broad initiatives that align with ESG.

Democratize Goal

Lots of corporations (as well as their consultants) search for to provide on ESG by defining a singular objective for his or her business to embrace. This idea is not automatically wrong, nevertheless it's insufficient. Lifestyle are not able to merely be dictated within the leading down; goal is likewise particular. One of the better solutions to infuse your business with the genuine and palpable perception of function is to recognize the ability of people as brokers of transform. Analysis reveals that men and women want to handle difficulties that matter to them, whether It can be throughout the solutions they order, the means they provide back or the lifestyle decisions they make. The most impressive corporations ensure it is easy, hassle-free, built-in and inclusive for employees, customers and associates To do that in relation to the issues they treatment concerning the most, and not precisely what is strategic for that model. Democratizing purpose is the key to escalating engagement with the elemental drivers of ESG though also providing optimistic business results, like manufacturer standing and employee satisfaction. The truth is, when our corporation examined data throughout two million of our System consumers around the world, we uncovered that companies who effectively engage their folks in executing fantastic by offering and volunteering see a lot more than a 57% reduction in employee turnover over All those that do not.

Obstacle The Measurement Mindset

With all because of regard to Peter Drucker, not every single end result is usually assigned a numerical value. Unquestionably, providers must measure whatever they can (In particular strategic company and social impacts), but You should not underestimate the worth of significantly less tangible gains. There usually are not wonderful actions for furnishing a sense of self-efficacy to staff or customers, but serving to people today accomplish a way of purpose can absolutely bring about beneficial intangible outcomes which have a halo effect on a corporation's tradition and model. In other words, I may well not Use a silver bullet metric for grading a corporation's lifestyle, but I know an magnificent a person Once i see it. There are actually certainly proxies and correlational data to mine, but we need to be far more thoughtful about valuing intangible assets, like how a culture or maybe a brand helps make another person really feel.

Genuine, objective-pushed organizations usually are not immediately after gold stars. They are just after actual adjust: a environment exactly where they are often financially rewarding although also conserving sources, just one where their services and products Enjoy a job in resolving complications without having resulting in new types, and a single the place their staff, consumers and communities advantage around their shareholders. (This really is proving for being a pretty good shareholder strategy as well!) Rather than ranging from a way of thinking in which the purpose is to boost your ESG rating, start out from a mentality wherever a tradition formed by goal, that means and impact will be the purpose. A positive ESG end result (and larger profitability above the long run) will abide by.

Learn more info. check out here: Environmental, Social, and Governance ESG importance in Greenfield projects

0 notes

josethomasdubai · 2 years

Text

Who would require residential property management software?

It's ordinarily accepted that broad land rental programming like the one presented by Axolon Programming ought to just be utilized by property chiefs answerable for overseeing many properties. While there is no rejecting that most enormous property the executive’s organizations and chiefs depend on such programming arrangements, they can likewise be utilized by:

Landowners: Assuming you've as of late procured a property that you might want to let out, rental administration programming can assist you with capitalizing on your new undertaking.

Non-attendant proprietors: Regardless of whether you live anyplace near the leased property, you can utilize online rental administration programming to easily deal with your property, inhabitants, and other ordinary tasks.

Little property supervisors: Regardless of whether you just deal with a modest bunch of properties, rental administration programming will have an effect on your independent venture.

Private and Business Property the executives

Online programming places you in the driving seat of your private or business property rental business. From drawing in occupants, connecting with occupants to overseeing front-office and administrative center undertakings, the product is a one-stop arrangement.

Coordinated Bookkeeping

The powerful investment property programming immediately smoothes out the bookkeeping part of your rental business. It accompanies highlights, for example, online lease installments, lease notices, spending plan guaging, and more to smooth out monetary tasks.

Announcing and Examination

Cutting-edge formation perception and detailing highlights to assist you with pursuing informed choices for developing your business.

Get Axolon real estate management software Dubai to get all you need to digitize document workflows at the best possible pricing.

#ERP solutions uaevan sales software Dubaireal estate management software dubaiDistribution Management Software DubaiSales Management Softwar

0 notes

uh-velkommen · 2 years

Text

Every once in a while I'm baffled by the remembrance that I really did leave the country, for a month, on my own, without telling anyone. I went all the way across the globe and it was actually that easy (well everything leading up to it wasn't, but the actual getting on the plane part was). About two years ago I had told my mother that I wanted to go to Norway as a half joke. She just nodded and I then said, you do realize Norway is like half way across the world (only about 4,000 miles actually). And then she said, "In that case no, thats too far." What does it matter how far I am, I'll be in another country regardless of where I go?? When she asked me why there, I told her I'd been learning the language and I'd gotten to a point where sometimes I'd even think in Norwegian. She didn't seem to believe me. How could I have picked up an entire language just under her nose?

Anyway, so I left and told no one and when I was actually there, outside waiting at the bus stop, I had to keep reminding myself that I really wasn't in America anymore. I took the calls from the seagulls as a way to identify that I was in fact in Norway. Airports have a funny way of acting as a limbo. Neither here nor there. Sure there were signs in other languages and the people in Germany felt way more rude but without talking to anyone, without seeing geographical wonders, I might as well have still been in Philadelphia. The sound of those seagulls though, in my mind only associated with being on a beach, was the only thing reminding me that I no longer was in Philly.

On the bus ride I sat next to a window, hoping to catch a glimpse of a classic Norwegian forest. I imagined them to be luscious, drafted in snow, populated by exotic creatures, and a hum of mystic wonder following their tails. I only saw highways. Even the cars looked the same and the people in those cars the same. Come to think of it, I dont even know what side of the road they drive on because I'd only seen highways and gravel roads. Still, while trying to guage how much was different, I could only find similarities. This time it was the sound of the sweet old ladies a few seats ahead of me, speaking in Norwegian to remind me of how far from home I was.

I arrived at a gas station, awaited by the campus grounds-keeper to be picked up in a small car and driven to my new abode. Funny, gas stations don't ever seem to change.

It wasn't until we rode into our neighborhood where everything truly felt different. It was a quaint place with small red townhouses lined up and no variation in their structures. I questioned if they were actual homes. They looked too small to be lived in. I had shared with everyone that it felt like I was on a movie set. These weren't actual three dimensional structures. They felt like plastered set pieces, walls put up on the side of the road. Even the Norwegian flags posted on the outside of every single house felt intentionally placed. I'd heard time and time again that Europeans found our obsession with the flag strange, but Norwegians hold the same level of patriotism, rightfully so at least. I'd found while I was there that I tried to be mindful of how Europeans viewed Americans and where our cultures differed, but I didn't realize that European culture is just as broad as American culture. Norway was very different from how I would envision, say, England and I didn't know that almost all houses in Norway followed the same pattern of small red or yellow structures, tight knit and hand-built. Things were starting to feel different now.

#norway #norway travels #Scandi Saga

0 notes

ri-ahhh · 4 years

Note

bro that ask was so good aside from the daddy part but could you actually write that? grayson stretching it out sounds super hot

“It’s been a while.”

It comes out rushed and breathless, partly from nerves and embarrassment and partly from the way he’s nearly made you lose your speaking abilities by the way he’s been kissing you. The deep kind of kisses where tongues clash and you’re both breathing out hard through your noses, hands grabbing at exposed skin wherever they can. Your legs are wrapped tightly around his hips, pulling them down so your centers meet; the sensation of the unmistakable hardness grinding into the wet heat through your thin shorts is both pleasurable but also maddeningly unsatisfying.

But you can see where this is going — where you want it to go. The two of you have done things already, but never all the way. And you just feel like you should let him know, in case of...whatever. What if you’ve lost your touch for riding? What if it takes you too long to get into it and things get awkward?

And what if that generously sized dick of his that you’ve reveled having in your mouth and hand many times recently, just wont quite fit in any other orifice right now?

Grayson sits back a little and cocks a brow curiously. You let him run his hand up your belly, squeeze a tit through your bra, and finally come to a stop on your cheek. He uses his thumb to tug your lower lip out of your teeth, which had been chewing it anxiously.

“How long?” he asks, a slight air of amusement in his low, raspy tone. It makes you relax a little to see that he clearly doesn’t care, but you still feel the need to be a little coy.

“I said a while,” you answer, clutching at his forearm with both hands and ducking your head the slightest bit to slip his lingering thumb between your kiss-swollen lips.

You suck on it slowly, and in the dim light of the bedside lamp you actually see his eyes lose their green, turning a sensual chocolate brown instead. Grayson shakes his head a little and presses his digit a little further in your mouth, which you welcome with a tiny hum of pleasure as you curl your tongue around it and suck with more force.

“Hm. Well how long is a while?”

Your deadpan look does the talking for you, with your mouth otherwise occupied. Grayson chuckles and pulls his thumb out, swiping the strings of saliva that come with it back onto your lips before ducking down swiftly to kiss you with more passion than you anticipated. It’s not unwelcome in the slightest, though, and you cup his cheeks to keep him close, pretty sure in that moment you’d be happy if his mouth could stay glued to yours forever.

Grayson ruins that thought, however, by trailing his lips to your cheek, across your jaw, down your neck. “Doesn’t matter to me, baby, as long as you’re okay,” he mumbles into your collarbone. “We’ll go slow, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you sigh happily, nerves assuaged and leaving you ready to just enjoy every part of him.

It only takes about a minute for you both to finish undressing. Grayson reaches behind you and unhooks your bra with an effortless dexterity that admittedly makes you flush. You push at the waistband of his boxer briefs with the soles of your feet while he sits up on his knees to whip his shirt over his head, and once he’s naked he gets you there with him by tugging off your soft shorts.

His hands grip your knees and push out, exposing your wet slit to the cool air of his bedroom. Your eyes meet his, and he gives you a devilishly charming little smirk that you know is a direct response to the evidence of how much he turns you on.

You gasp when his fingertips trail lightly over your lower lips, neglecting your clit and going straight for your center. You hike up onto your elbows so you can watch him play with you. He touches you like he’s exploring your pussy for the first time, even though the number of times he’s done this has to be in the dozens by now.

“At least we know we don’t have to worry about lube,” he says, holding up his hand with another cocky grin. His fingertips glisten in the light with your arousal, and you flush lightly as you reach out to take his hand and put it back on your aching pussy.

“Think you can make her wetter?” you challenge, manipulating his fingers against you so it’s like you’re both working you over at the same time. It makes your own lips turn up at the corners to see the way your direct challenge makes his dick bob in the air. “Need you to get me soaked, baby, remember?”

Grayson nods stupidly, transfixed by your words and the sight and feel of you beneath him. He swipes his fingers through your pussy lips one more time, sucks them quickly into his mouth with a quiet grunt, then finally lights upon your clit when he returns them to your center.

You gasp and toss your head back instinctively, hips grinding into his touch at once. You’re sensitive and he knows that you prefer steady, slower circles to build you up rather than any quick motions.

But he doesn��t stay there long, to your slight disappointment, and when you’re practically leaking onto the sheets below, he slips his fingers down to your hole so he can ease just the middle one inside at first. His head dips down to your chest and he plants a big hand by your pillow to support himself above you as he sucks a nipple into his mouth while he adds his ring finger.

Grayson grins against your breast when you let out a pretty moan at the way he curls his fingers inside you. He’s not pumping them really, just letting you adjust to having space taken up inside you. This is nothing knew; he’s fingered you plenty of times, but it still feels amazing. Especially when he simultaneously switches nipples, leaving the wet one exposed to the air, and adds his thumb to the mix as he finally does start moving his digits in and out some.

“Fuck, that feels fucking good,” you whimper, clutching his head to your chest by threading your fingers through his thick, sweat-damp hair.

Grayson looks up at you with his mouth still suctioned around your nipple, his eyes dark and making him look sinfully handsome. He smiles when you clench around his fingers involuntarily, brought on purely by the way he stares at you like you’re the sexiest thing he’s ever seen mixed with that contagious self confidence he has.

“Yeah, you like that?” he says, his voice vibrating against the sensitive peak of your nipple. You nod quickly, and feel his hand shift a little down below. “One more, baby. Gotta stretch you out for me, huh?”

You moan and nod again, eyes locked with his as he slips that third finger inside you carefully, watching your face to guage your reaction to any pain. He only finds bliss, though, when you overcome the initial pinch and let yourself be filled to the fullest you have in...

A while.

By the time he starts moving all of those thick, wonderful fingers inside you together, you’re starting to get desperate for his dick. Not only has it been completely neglected by the way he insisted on taking care of you — preparing you — but you can’t wait to find out how he uses it.

“Gray, please,” you groan, hands clutching at his broad, muscled shoulders. “Fuck me.”

Grayson lets out a little squeaky grunt of excitement before slipping his fingers out of you slowly. “You sure you’re ready?”

“Yeah.” He starts to lean off to the side of the bed to open his bedside drawer, but you can’t resist reaching down and wrap your hand around him. You watch his face for the expressions of surprise and pleasure he lets cross it, caught off guard by your wandering hand.

He indulges for a few moments, then pushes your hand away with an almost resentful groan as he finishes his quest of retrieving a condom. “You’re so tight, baby, I don’t need any more chances of busting sooner than I should.”

Your hands wrap around his back when he returns to you, and you watch him fondly as he rips the package open with his teeth before rolling it onto himself. You open your legs and bite your lip again. “It’s okay. Just wanna feel you inside me.”

Grayson uses some of the copious slick coming out of your pussy to lube himself up, then he lowers himself onto his elbows so he can both reach your mouth with his and place the head of his dick at your entrance.

“Do it,” you encourage, lips slipping against his as you speak. Grayson moans and obeys. He pushes forward enough for the tip to pop in, then rears back some to withdraw and push in a little more on the next thrust.

He’s going slow for your benefit, but by the time he’s managed to get completely inside you can’t help but think it was for his own as well. Your pussy is swallowing him, hot and wet even through the condom as it pulses around him. The fit is tight, as you expected, but the burn is already starting to fade, and the urge to fuck yourself on him is about to become uncontrollable if he doesn’t start moving in the next three seconds.

“Grayson,” you plead in just the one word, but he more than understands it’s bigger connotations. With a growl that comes from deep in his chest, he gets to work, even if it is still slow.

Slow, steady, just how he already knows you like it.

“You okay?” he wonders quietly. Experience is the best teacher, and with a lot of that under his belt, Grayson can tell by the way your eyes roll back and the death grip your nails are digging into his bulging triceps that you’re more than okay.

It’s sweet of him to check, though, and it just makes you want him to give it to you for real now.

You spread your legs wide around his hips and drag your nails down his back, one of your hands settling on his ass and pushing some. “More, baby. Harder, I fuckin want it.”

“Mm, you want my dick, sweetheart?” The octane of his voice has raised some, but it’s still laced with pure sex, and it makes you shiver.

Which makes your pussy tighten around him even more, and Grayson sits up and cups his palms behind your knees so that they’re held steady in his firm grip against the mattress. “You gonna fuckin take me good?”

If you were going to answer with words, any chance of that happening is gone as soon as he starts flicking his hips into yours with the faster — but still steady — rhythm you had been craving. You’re already wound up tight from how well he worked you over earlier. You close your eyes and bask in it, in the sensation of getting fucked so incredibly well. You’re not disappointed in his stroke game, to say the least.

He says your name, and when you open your eyes he wraps one of your legs around his waist and pushes the other one higher up towards your chest. The angle and the depth is fantastic, and you’re enraptured by how ridiculously sexy he is. With a full view of that chiseled torso glistening with sweat, the muscles there clenching and flexing as he fucks you at just the right pace still, you find yourself incredibly close to the edge already.

“Oooh, fuck,” you moan, eyes locked on his concentrated face as you soak in all the goodness he’s making you feel. “Shit, like that — like that, yeah!”

“Such a good pussy,” Grayson growls, which slides into a moan when you drop a hand down to run you own clit. His eyes trail up your body, lingering on your bouncing tits before settling on your blissed-our face. “Wanna feel it cum all over my dick.”

He takes it upon himself to knock your hand out of the way to replace your more delicate fingers on your clit with his rougher ones, and with only a few swipes against the swollen nub, you’re clamping down on him like a vice as your orgasm rips through you.

You vaguely hear yourself calling out his name, but your ears are rushing with white noise. You don’t hear the sweet nothings he whispers into your ear either, even with how he’s folded over you now and working you through it with gentle pets still to your clit while he stays nicely inside you.

You don’t know how long it takes, but as you start to come down, a personal conviction suddenly enters your lust-fogged mind as you push back on his chest lightly. Grayson looks a little confused but obeys your silent command, only for his face to morph into an excited little grin when you push him onto his back.

“Yeah?”

You nod and smile back as you straddle his waist slowly. You feel warm and sexy and like you could do anything you wanted, even though your muscles are already tired and your eyes sting a little with the urge to cuddle up with him and sleep.

And you really want to make him cum. You. Like this. So you plant one palm on his solid chest, reaching down to guide him back inside you as you sink down on his cock.

It’s Grayson’s turn for his head to hit the pillow. “Fuck,” he whispers, tucking his chin to his chest some so he can watch you swivel your hips on his.

You smile wider and move your hands down to his abs, using their solid base as a support for you to rock back and forth on him until you find what he seems to like best. You don’t have it in you strength wise to squat over him, but Grayson is far from complaining as he gets an up-close view at the way your tits sway and jiggle above him, the way your pussy grips him so tight and sweet.

And you get an unimpeded view of what his handsome face looks like as he finally cums — jaw slack, guttural moans escaping his puffy pink lips, muscles clenching as he shoots into the condom. He’s always beautiful when he orgasms, but there’s something special about how he looks under you, inside of you. You’re thoroughly spent physically and emotionally by the time you slide off him and sidle up to him to lay on his chest with a leg hooked over one of his.

“I was worried I’d forgotten how to do that,” you admit jokingly, pressing a kiss to his pec and feeling his heart race beneath your lips. “Could you tell I was a little rusty?”

His fingers reach up lazily to play with your hair and he hums. “Baby, if that’s you when you’re rusty, I think you might kill me when we start doing this every day.”

#i was in the mood to write again #dolan twins #grayson dolan #blurb #g blurb

254 notes · View notes

monsterkissed · 2 years

Text

once again when any uk elections of any scale come up you should absolutely not just arbitrarily decide which party is Less Evil and vote for whichever scumbag they run in your constituency regardless of their personal track record or broader shitty trends in that party

the big uk parties can win or lose on pretty slim margins and as a result they watch every election like hawks to try and guage where the winds are blowing. this is why a party losing a seat they had been holding reliably for a long time (or even retaining it but at a significantly smaller majority) is often top news. you can absolutely manipulate shitty candidates out of their jobs or murderous policies out of existence by refusing to play the blue-no-matter-who game and voting for a smaller party, indy candidate, whichever relevant national party is running, whoever is actually the least evil candidate on paper regardless of affiliation. when the candidate who won’t shut up about the trans menace on twitter tanks their own vote and costs their party a seat, that party is suddenly very motivated to cut that person loose. that’s also why parties end up adopting policies counter to their broad political area when they’ve simply been proven too popular to ignore. your vote can matter if you use your head about it but if you don’t you can not only entrench bad situations and make them worse but also actively inhibit changes that would legitimately lessen the evil

for e.g. i have seen posts already going around telling people to vote labour no matter what and i cannot emphasise enough that that is the single worst example wrt what i am talking about. labour is literally in the midst of a civil war between its socialist/left factions and its blairite/conservative ones and that makes actually checking who is standing and what they stand for vital if u want to encourage them to actually act like a left-leaning opposition. when a party is divided it is pretty important to show them which version has a viable future

ignoring all this actively makes things worse bc of the way voting functions as feedback. i have been to a lot of counts and i have watched a lot of votes tallied. the vote of the person who voted for X candidate because they actually like their more regressive ideals and want them to keep being shitty, placed next to the vote from you, the person who hates X and their politics but chose to vote for them anyway because you like the party? both of those votes look identical. if that candidate wins then their party will see them as a safe ticket they can’t afford to drop if they want to keep winning. if you think the general election is just Too Important to vote for anyone else, that is even more reason to use your votes intelligently in literally every single other election.

#ukpol #full disclosure i have both voted for labour candidates and deliberately not voted for labour candidates #that's just the best example atm of ppl talking ab tactical voting but actually describing voting without thinking at all

5 notes · View notes

whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years

Text

Thursday 30 July 1835

6 5

11 ¼

No kiss. very fine morning F66° in my study and Celsius 19° at 7 am - wrote all but the 1st 5 lines of yesterday till 7 ¼ - wrote copy of letter for A- to Mr Grey - and then went out till breakfast at 9 in ½ hour - then till 10 had Joseph Mann about getting water to the Stump X Inn - at Wellroyde before breakfast and Tilley holm bridge and had Mawson there giving him orders about bits of wearing and the bit of proposed new cut - on 1st going out gave Charles H- a talking about the stable and made up my mind to set Mr Husband to look after him - told CH. he had perhaps been long enough about the place - people did not do so well when they had been too long - he is a sadly slow idle, dilatory, tho’ clever headed workman for jobs - the moment I leave home nothing goes on as it should do - Had Mr Harper at 10 - walked with him and his clerk to Mytholm mill examined up wheel and run coal of water and water in the dam, and then walked down to the end of the tail-goit in the Macauley’s field near Dumb mill - much talk about the wheel Mr Harper thinks there would not be water for a 30ft diameter wheel more than 8 months in the year - better to have a 20ft diameter wheel - 3ft. wide at bottom and 3ft. to the centre of the arch in height [enough] for the tail-goit - Mr. Harper from calculating James Howarths’ measurements of the water passing thro’ the 2 guages, that 7 1/2in. deep and 2ft. broad for one 12 hours and half that quantity for the 12 hours (flowing thro’ 3ft. in length per second) would average 8in. thro’ out the 24 hours - this would be wanted for a 20ft. diameter wheel which might have perhaps 15 horse power - the wheel at Mytholm is of this diameter and 5ft. 6in. broad, but tho’ said to be of 15 horse power they can never put more than 10 horse power on it - cannot work of the dam to within 2ft. of water - Mr. Harper said it would be better to lower the wheel-sill so as to let the water fall on the wheel a foot lower and then losing very little power they would be enabled to work the water lower and longer - George R- said (his engineer told us) that if they could get 6in. more water at the top they could work the wheel an hour longer - now the surface of the dam = 2 roods. 20 perches = 3025 yards .:. 3025/2 =1512 ½ cubic ft. of water required to work the wheel one hour - Mr. Harper mentioned a steam engine - I said it would be too great a nuisance but if he could consume the smoke and sublime it into ivory-black I should be satisfied to have it - told him to consider of this - the ivory black works near the great colliery (that open from the day) near St. Etienne had given me the idea - not settled with Booth about the Lodge - should I object to bring a joiner in from York to settle at H-X and to be a timber merchant - no! I should not object but Greenwood being a timber merchant, thought the joiner in question had better keep clear of timber except for his own use - had better make friends with Greenwood who has not a good life - then had Holt while Mr. Harper had Booth - Holt thinks now that the Spiggs loose is very valuable - it will loose 150 acres upper and ditto lower bed i.e. 300 acres which at whatever bought say £50 or £60 per acre should pay me ½ for the Loose - cannot loose more because there is a throw down in Blake-hill - the 2 endings are 80 yards each sort of crossing the road and loosing Samuel Holdsworth’s coal - it would take their men 6 months to drive if they worked night and day, so that I am sure to stop them - then sent Holt to Mr Harper - then A- off on her pony at 3 and I saw Mr Harper again - he will give me his calculations tomorrow for the wheel and goit and wrote to Mr Leather for his opinion - then he had Booth again about the bridge in the wood - not settled when I went out - sauntered in the walk - saw Joseph Mann again - had him just before Mr Harper came this morning - told him to see Holt and being driving for the Staups water immediately - about an hour talking to Marian - then with them had Mr J.B. Leyland between 5 and 6 who came as desired by Mr Rawson (Christopher) with a parchment for subscriptions to raise £60 for the purchase of his statue of ‘Kilmany’ that he did during his studies in London which statue is to be placed in the new museum - Mr R-‘s name and Mr George Priestley’s was each down for £10 I said it really was not my intention to put my name down for that sum as I had not the pleasure of knowing anything of Mr JB Leyland and therefore I hoped to see the names of some of his more particular friends down immediately (after) those of Messrs. R- and P- but that I wished him success and had in fact no doubt that the subscriptions would soon be made upon - I would have given £5 but would not give £10 and did not like to be 3rd and give less than the first 2 - but gave no hint of all this

SH:7/ML/E/18/0070

tho’ my manner indicated that I would give a lesser sum after having him the chance of others at £10 - A- did not return till 6 ½ - dinner at 6 50 - the front stable not being ready for the horses Charles not having sent for the halter rings tile [or till?] by George this afternoon who brought them back with him, sent for James H- to put them on - he came about 7 and the 2 ponies and the gray were brought from the back stable and put into the front for the 1st time - coffee - a few minutes with my father and Marian when called to Messrs. Nelson and son and Husband the clerk of the works at 8 ¾ - on Mr N-‘s saying he had brought a letter from Mr Harper and the estimates for Northgate house, I answered at once, I meant Mr Harper to decide as he thought best, but said I would read what he had written - left the people in the little north dining room and ordered them port and came to my study - read Mr Harper’s letter begging me to choose between the 2 parties each equally capable ‘of executing the work and believed each would do it equally well - ‘Brian Helm’s estimate for the whole is

2700.19.6 Helm

2746.5.0 Nelson

the difference is however rather in the value of the old material than in the price of the actual labour -

277.13.5 Helm

2796.5 Nelson

Nelson having only valued the old material at £50 and Helm at £98.13.11

I have explained the matter both to Helm and to Nelson - they know the amount of each other’s estimate and I have explained to both that you will say which is to have it’ - ‘if Nelson is to have it, I should, Mr. H- thinks, allow BH. a fair compensation for his trouble ‘and Nelson ought to reduce his estimate so much below Helm’s as to cover what you might allow Helm’ - ...... ‘I will mention 1 circumstance in Nelson’s favour - Messrs. Cravens of York have been over this afternoon and on explaining the matter to them as to their being too late unless I should feel dissatisfied with the states - old Mr. Craven stated that he was sure Nelson would give in a very fair estimate and if he succeeded would answer both my own and my employer’s purpose as well as any man, and in fact so much were Cravens satisfied that they would not be called upon to oppose Nelson, that they said it was no use stopping in H-x to hear the decision and consequently left at 5 o’clock’ - BH- sometime ago owned to Mr. Harper he had never done columns - Nelson has had more experience - I think the bias of Mr. Harper’s mind is for N- so is my own - BH-‘s estimate for the Lodge was high - his estimate for the work at Northgate is higher than N-‘s - I was not 5 minutes in my study reading Mr. Harper’s letter and deciding - I went down instantly - sent for N- senior into the drawing room I said I did not understand his estimating the old materials at only £50 he answered immediately that he had before told Mr. Harper he would give £100 and that he had told his son (N-) so but that he the son had put down £50 - upon this old N- took the estimate and wrote down that ‘it was intended to put down £100 pounds for the ould matearls’ very well said I ‘your estimate for the work is the lower and I therefore think it right to take it - my doing so is no disparagement to Mr. Helm nor any complaint to you - I do not know either party at all - but I think it right to take the lower estimate which is yours’ - begged him to wait a little and I would give him a letter to Mr. Harper - came up immediately and wrote as follows ‘Shibden hall Thursday 30 July 1835. Sir - In consequence of the assurance contained in your letter that you believe each of the 2 parties equally competent to execute the work, and that the one will do it as well as the other, and Mr Nelson senior having said to you and also stated in writing that it was his intention to give £100 for the old materials I feel it right to take the lowest estimate and therefore leave you to make your arrangements to accordingly with Mr Nelson - It is much to the credit of both parties that the amount of your estimates is so nearly the same - As I feel myself at a loss to judge what will be a proper recompense to Mr Helm for his trouble, I hope you will be so good as settle this matter for me. I am sir etc etc A Lister’ Went downstairs immediately - gave this letter to Mr Nelson and was upstairs again at 9 50 - I had left A- with my father and Marian - I had heard her come upstairs but somehow it had never occurred to me to tell her what I was about - How strange! how unaccountable! all was done, and it was only on seeing her grave countenance on hearing my decision that the strangeness of my never having told her a syllable of it ere it was over, struck me!!! was it absence? I cannot account for it - but my annoyance was deeper than she thought - she fears I shall be talked of for not giving the job to my townsman - it is not this I think of - the decision was right, but that she had no part in it amazes and annoys me - 3 or 4 minutes with my aunt (poorly) till 9 55 - very fine day F70° at 11 1/4 pm

3 notes · View notes

queenxxxsupreme · 5 years

Text

Company

A/N: I hope you like this one @wayward-dream

Warning: none for this:)

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Geralt ditches a ball to find you. I suck at summaries

The castle buzzed with excitement. Geralt of Rivia had just taken out the pack of ghouls terrorizing the town, and now with the monsters gone, the Duke and Dutchess of Tardide decided to throw a celebration to thank the witcher.

You'd been given the task of making sure the White Wolf was presentable for the Duke and Duchess. All the other maids had scattered the second anyone mentioned the large brute would need a maid for the night. They were scared of him, fearful of the stories they'd heard. You, however, weren't afraid. They were just stories. Most men never lived up to the stories told about them.

Though you insisted that you weren't scared of the being, your heart was racing as you approached the door to his quarters. You carried in your arms an outfit for him for the night, one more suitable for a feast than the clothes he'd probably choose to wear.

You lifted your hand up but before you could knock, the door was being pulled open. The man before you was tall with broad shoulders and well defined muscles in his arms and his torso. He wasn't wearing a shirt. Your eyes briefly looked over his scarred abdomen, taking note of the deep gash just below his right ribcage and another across his right bicep. There were a dozen or more other little cuts across his skin, followed by bruises and signs of his fight the day before.

Your eyes came back up to his face. That's when you realized you'd been staring and he was just watching you with amber eyes.

"I am Y/N. I'll be your maid for the night."

"I don't need a maid." He grunted out, his voice low and deep. He started to shut the door on you but you put your hand up to stop him.

"I didn't ask you if you did or not. I've been given orders to make sure you look presentable for the Duke and Duchess." You paused for a moment to guage his reaction. He looked down at you, his brows drawn together ever so slightly. When he said nothing, you continued. "I'm not asking that you let me dress you like you're a child. I'm only asking that you let me tend to those wounds and make sure you're dressed properly before you are taken to the ballroom. If you don't, I can assure you the Duke will probably have my head. He's itching for an excuse to get rid of me."

He glanced down to eye the gashes on his body. He was sore and didn't really care about the cuts. They were pretty much healed.

He grunted out a reply, opening the door wide enough for you to come in. You stepped in, holding his gaze as you passed him.

"Thank you."

"Did you do something to get on the Duke's bad side?" Geralt closed the door behind you. You crossed the room to place his outfit on the bed.

"You could say that." You brushed your hand over the material to the pants, straightening the cloth out. "I don't very much appreciate his soldiers thinking it's okay to make inappropriate comments about me or my servants. I also don't react well to being groped like the town's whore. The Duke doesn't like the thought of a little servant putting a knife through one of his precious soldiers."

You let out a soft sigh, turning to face the witcher. He still stood by the door, silently studying you.

"You killed a man?" It was hard of Geralt to believe someone like you would take a life.

"I didn't come here to discuss my history. I came to ensure you were well put together for the feast." You moved across the room pass him and opened the door. You told one of the servants passing by that you needed bandages and a bowl of water. You turned back to the witcher and gestured for him to take a seat on the chest at the foot of the bed. "But to answer your question, no. I didn't kill him. Just maimed the bastard."

You went back to the side of the bed his outfit was on and inspected it just a little more. You were curious to see how the colors worked with him. The Duchess herself picked the royal blue top.

"Maids are usually killed for such acts. Why aren't you dead?"

"The Duchess is particularly fond of me. In her eyes, I'm one of the maids who gets shit done around the castle. And she likes my garden."

There was a knock on the door before it opened. Matilia, a timid and quiet maid you'd worked with before, stepped in. She held bandages tucked under one arm and carried a bowl of water.

"Hello, Y/N."

"Matilia." You greet her with a nod and little smile. "Place them down on the dresser, would you, darling? Thank you."

The servant did as told before scurrying out of the room.

"Are you a head servant?" Geralt turned his head to watch you. You moved to the dresser to get a cloth wet with the arm what.

"Gods no." You almost laughed at the idea. "I've just been here long enough and I stand up for them. The other girls aren't as blessed as I am to be one of the Duchess' favorites. I use it to my advantage for them."

You moved to stand next to the man. Even though he was sitting, he was still almost as tall as you. You reached out to cup his jaw with one hand. He grunted his disapproval of the physical contact, leaning back just a little so he could carefully watch your hands.

"I just want to clean your face." Your voice was a quiet murmur. "I think you've still got ghoul blood on you from yesterday."

He didn't buy your words but he allowed you to do so. You held his face with one hand and with the other, you held a damp rag. You brushed the cloth over his skin like he was delicate. While you did this, you took the chance to study his face. There were a few little scars that littered his skin. One next to his right eye stood out more than the others. It was bigger. His amber eyes watched you like a hawk. He didn't trust you.

"You aren't a mage, but there's magic in you."

"Yes." You affirmed his statement. You moved across the room to dunk the cloth into the water then wring it out. "I'm not sure what you'd call it, but I've been able to do it since I was a little girl. I could bring plants back to life, heal them from a bitter winter frost or even from a fire. That's why the Duchess keeps me around. She loves the garden."

Geralt was silent. You glanced over your shoulder to him, your fingers squeezed the excess water out of the cloth.

"You're a quiet one, Geralt of Rivia." You moved on to the wound on his chest. It was nearly healed already but you wanted to be thorough. "Quiet ones make for dull conversation." You glanced up at him through your lashes. Just as he had been since you stepped foot in the room, he watched you.

"Are you saying I'm dull?" He raised his brows just slightly. You could hear the very faint teasing tone in his husky voice.

"Me calling the White Wolf dull?" You teased just slightly, a smile tugging at your lips. "Never. I'm only saying that I wouldn't mind if you spoke a little more."

He grunted in response.

"Often times, I get told that I talk too much. If I am annoying you, just say something."

"You aren't annoying."

You grinned slightly.

"Alright, Mr. Witcher." You put the rag in the bowl of water and turned to him, clasping your hands behind your back. "While you change your clothes, I'll step out into the hallway. If you need anything, I’ll be right outside the door.”

He nodded his head once.

You left the room, closing the door behind yourself. There was a group of servants gathered just down the hall, whispering and looking in your direction. You paid them no mind. You were used to this behavior. Your fellow maids often talked about you behind your back. You were different than them.

“How is the witcher behaving for you, Y/N?” One maid that you didn’t like in particular, Adelina, approached you.

“Good evening, Adelina.” You smoothed out your skirt. “Have you come here just to taunt me or were you sent?”

“I just came to check on our dear friend.”

The three girls behind her snickered like she’d said something funny.

“I wanted to make sure the Butcher of Blaviken didn’t cause you any harm.”

“Why don’t you just fuck off, Adelina?” You suggested. Just then, the door behind you opened. You didn’t have to turn around to know that Geralt was looking at the girls with that cold, emotionless gaze of his. The maids paled under his amber eyes.

Adelina turned and led the way down the hallway. The other maids followed her like dogs.

“Were those your friends?”

You weren’t sure if Geralt was joking.

“Most definitely not.” You let out a sigh as you turned to face the witcher. The black pants fit him well and the deep royal blue top held on to his broad shoulders snuggly. “The Duchess was right. Blue would suit you.”

He grunted in reply. Your eyes trailed back up to his silvery locks, which were a little disheveled.

“Now for your hair.”

“My hair?” He repeated.

“Yes. Come along.” You ushered him back into the room.

***

Being that Geralt was nearly a head higher than you, he had to sit on the chest at the foot of the bed in order for you to be able to properly reach his hair. He didn’t like the fact that you were even touching his hair, but you were being gentle with him. You were carefully not to pull the comb through too hard or tug at his hair carelessly.

“What are you doing?” He turned his head to the side in an attempt to look in the mirror to his right. He wanted to see what you were doing. It was taking you longer to do his hair than it should’ve.

“Hold still. I don’t want to make it crooked.” Your fingers easily carded through his hair as you braided half of it back so it would stay out of his face.

He grunted.

“Tell me, Mr. Witcher.” You hummed quietly. “Do you prefer to be quiet and grunt your displeasure? Or do you just not like to talk?”

He said nothing for a while. You thought maybe he wouldn’t answer your question.

“Why do you care?” He turned his head to look over his shoulder but you turned his head back so he looked straight ahead.

“Because I like to hear your voice.” You shrugged one of your shoulders. “I just think it’s a waste that such a handsome voice isn’t heard that often.”

“I’ve learned that not everyone is as willing to hear me talk as you are. To them, I’m no more than a means to get rid of a monster.”

“To hell with everyone who doesn’t view you as a person.” You sighed out, shaking your head softly. “They’re lucky to even be breathing the same air as you.”

He grunted, almost wanting to laugh at your words. You finished the braid and tied his hair into place.

“There we go, Mr. Witcher.”

“You don’t have to call me that.” He pushed himself to his feet and went over to the mirror. You stood just behind him, studying his reflection in the mirror. He was beautiful in the same was a lion was beautiful. They were dangerous creatures but there was something about them that made them breathtaking. “I look like an idiot.”

“Hardly.” You shook your head. “I think you look very handsome. You still look a little rugged but put together.”

He grunted and messed with the sleeve of the shirt.

A knock on the door made you sigh. Your time with the witcher was over.

“That is my cue to leave.” You started to move towards the door. “There will be a servant to take you to the ballroom.”

Geralt watched you move towards the door. You stopped just shy of reaching the door and turned to him, a little smile playing on your lips.

“It was a pleasure, Geralt of Rivia.”

He held your gaze. You knew he’d say nothing so you pulled the door open and left.

***

Any event involving royalty made Geralt uneasy. He didn’t like dealing with the privileged families. He’d spent the better half of an hour sitting with the Duke and Duchess, his eyes flighting around the room. He searched every maid that passed, silently hoping one of them would be you. You fascinated him. He’d never come across someone who was so blunt but kind. You weren’t scared of him either. You didn’t cower when he looked at you.

When he had enough of the nobility and the party music, he decided to set off on finding you. Surely you’d be much better company than anyone else in the ballroom.

He found you outside in the garden. The moonlight lit most of the area but there were torches lit around the four corners of the garden. You were in a simple dark gray dress with off the shoulder sleeves. Your hair was left in a long braid over your shoulder.

He moved to stand at the entrance to the garden. He leaned against one of the stone pillars holding a torch. You were on your knees next to a witch-alder shrub. Your fingers moved ever so slightly. A hazy gray substance left your palm and fingertips. As the substance touched the plant, pink flowers began to bloom.

When you finished with the shrub, you stood up started to move around the garden. Your eyes briefly caught something out of place. You looked up to see Geralt standing at the entrance to the garden.

“You’re suppose to be at your party, Mr. Witcher.”

“I don’t like parties.” He grumbled. “I find that I’d much rather have your company than anyone else’s in that dreadful place.”

You almost laughed.

“My company isn’t that exciting.”

“I find that loud nobles make for terrible company, but talkative maids are much better.”

Was he flirting with you?

Your cheeks tingled as you looked down, your fingertips ghosting over a rose bush.

“Come in, Mr. Witcher. I’ll show you around my garden.” You offered, motioning for him to join your side.

He walked alongside you as you moved aimlessly through the garden. You were making conversation but he found himself not listening out of habit. He was good at just naturally tuning everyone out. What he did pay attention to was how you’d brush your fingers along any plant you passed. Even after you moved away, the plants still seemed to grow.

Geralt felt eyes on him. He was used to it, but he still liked to know exactly who was watching him. He looked around and caught a group of women standing just outside of the garden, whispering and looking at you both.

“Don’t mind them, Geralt.” Hearing you say his name pulled his attention back to you.

“I’m used to the staring.”

“Me too.” You sighed gently. “I guess we make quite the duo. The witcher and the witch who is not a witch.”

Geralt looked over to you, amber eyes carefully studying you as you stared blankly ahead.

“Oh, how I wish I could run away.” A little smile came to your lips at the thought. “To run away and never look back.” You turned your head to meet his gaze. “Is the continent exciting?”

“You could put it that way.”

“It has to be better than this awful place.” You came to a stop at the opposite end of the garden and turned to look at the palace. “I’ve never known anything outside of Tardide. But oh how I’d love to travel.”

“Then why don’t you leave?”

“I am a woman. The most I have is the ability to make flowers bloom and a little sword training from my grandmother. I wouldn’t last a week out there.” You hummed. “When you leave in the morning, will you return?”

Your eyes flickered up to meet his amber ones. He held your gaze for a few silent heartbeats before he moved away from you, traveling down the path you two had just been on.

“No.”

“That sounds lovely. Perhaps we will meet again.” You took a seat on a bench and motioned for him to join you. “Not here, of course, but elsewhere.”

“I wound’t mind that.”

You smiled softly, your eyes finding the bright moon overhead. You leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder.

A/N: I'm thinking of making a taglist for Geralt. If you want to be added to my taglist for Geralt fluff let me know. I'm hoping to do some NSFW shit too so let me know if you want to be on that list too. I'll tag you when I post new shit💕

#geralt of rivia #geralt the witcher #geralt #the witcher #geralt x reader #henry cavill #oneshot #queenxxxsupreme

262 notes · View notes

moiraineswife · 5 years

Text

Flares - A Shadowgast Fic

Title: Flares

Summary: Essek joins the Mighty Nein in their pursuit of Obann and the Laughing Hand. Caleb notes that the cold weather doesn't seem to be agreeing with him, and challenges him on the point. Discussion ensues.

Teaser: “I am fine, Widogast,” he replied with cool courtesy - an emphasis on the cool.

“Why do you ask?” Caleb shrugged. He had not expected that question.

“Your movements seem a little stiffer than usual,” he mumbled, finally, staring at his fingers working through Frumpkin’s fur, “The somatic elements of your spells, for instance.”

He wished he hadn’t spoken, now. He felt a stab of regret and winced at it. Essek’s cool stare did not flicker or waver, just stared haughtily down again. Caleb felt rather as he did when they’d been pursued from above by that roc.

Link: AO3

“Are you well, Shadowhand?”

He’d been trying to work up the nerve and find the right moment for the past 23 minutes, sitting beside the other wizard on an off-shoot of an enormous ancient tree that burst from the earth like the gnarled finger of some ancient nature deity.

The words finally spilled from him as he had watched Essek draw his mantle a little more tightly around himself, as though he might use the thick fabric as a shield for something.

The wind was whipping up again and it was bitterly cold. Caleb had suffered through harsh winters in the Zemni Fields so he was...Comfortable was the wrong word, but he knew how to cope with it.

Essek had teleported to them out of nowhere two days ago claiming that the Bright Queen had sent him to aid them as they drew ever closer to their final confrontation with Obann and the Laughing Hand.

He did not appear to have enjoyed himself in those two days.

Caleb had theorised that the drow’s affinity for darkness would pair with an affinity for cold. However, they instead seemed distinctly bothered by it. Or, at least, Essek was.

“I am fine, Widogast,” he replied with cool courtesy - an emphasis on the cool. “Why do you ask?”

Caleb shrugged. He had not expected that question. His fingers dipped into Frumpkin’s thick fur, gripping onto him as a comforting anchor against the sudden flare of anxiety that had stoked to life in his chest. The cat seemed similarly unhappy with the current weather conditions. He had been tucked inside Caleb’s coat all day, and didn’t seem like emerging soon.

“Your movements seem a little stiffer than usual,” he mumbled, finally, staring at his fingers working through Frumpkin’s fur, “The somatic elements of your spells, for instance.”

Caduceus was keeping an eye on them from the other side of the fire where he was clearing up after dinner, but he made no move to interfere. Hopefully he would be willing to heal the damage Essek inflicted upon him after this impertinence.

Essek was still eyeing him, too.

For unknown reasons, Caleb was still talking.

“You just seem rather...uncomfortable in general,” he said, lamely, “And you have been a little more...distant and irritable than usual these last few days.” He winced inwardly at the word choice. “I only meant that you have not seemed like yourself since you joined us,” he added, hastily, but the damage was already done.

His mother had told him once that conversation was like a harvest. Once wheat had been cut, it could not be put back. Words, once spoken, could not be retracted either. And in both cases, it only made one look more foolish to try. He was struck again by how wise she had been.

“You are very perceptive aren’t you, Widogast?” Essek said, finally, after allowing the silence to stretch uncomfortably to the point that Caleb was squirming visibly.

His voice was quiet, and though he was trying to make it sound otherwise, it did not seem as though he was trying to compliment him.

“Tell me, do you watch all of your companions so closely? Or is it a special gift reserved for me? They taught you to hate and kill creatures like me before you could walk, did they not? Is the habit so difficult to break?”

Caleb flinched.

He fidgeted with Frumpkin a little more, and felt Caduceus’ eyes carefully guaging the situation. He found himself wishing the firbolg would interrupt, that he would say something in his slow, gentle voice and clear up the mess that Caleb had just made. But he did not.

Realising he was going to have to find some answer to this, Caleb took a deep breath, and made himself speak.

“You are correct,” he said, carefully, “I was trained to be perceptive, to notice things that others do not, to...to seek out weaknesses in my enemies.”

He made himself look up and meet, then hold, Essek’s pale eyes. They seemed to blaze through the darkness like burning moonlight, searing and scorching.

“But I assure you, Essek,” he hesitated a fraction of a second before using the drow’s given name, rather than his title, to try and soften the horrible atmosphere that had sprung up between them in the wake of all the bridges Caleb was burning.

Essek’s impenetrable mask flickered for a moment as he gave a small blink of surprise at the use of his first name. Then it resolved once more into the granite countenance of displeasure.

Swallowing hard, Caleb made himself go on.

“That was not my intention with you.”

He let the words hang for a moment, then continued, more smoothly, “I do not consider you my enemy. Quite the opposite, in fact. You have been a great ally to us, and to be in particular. I appreciate the time that you have taken with me, to teach me your spells, which have saved us almost as much as your direct aid.”

Essek blinked, and his face softened a little, emboldening Caleb enough to say what he did next.

“Far from seeing you as an enemy, I was coming to regard you as a friend. The last thing I would want to do is offend you. I apologise, Shadowhand..”

He returned to the use of the formal title, then he rose, a little stiffly, still half-expecting to be blasted into the middle of next century, and that was if he was lucky. Then turned to walk away and give the other man his peace, hoping he had not ruined this relationship for all of them. He had not overstated how much they had come to rely on Essek. Alienating him would cost them more than he would ever be able to make up for.

Essek’s hand darted out from beneath his mantle and his long, thin fingers closed around Caleb’s wrist.

“Please,” he said, softly, “Wait a moment. I-” he broke off, genuine regret flashing across his features in a grimace.

Essek ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking as a human might if they had lived nearly two hundred years. Weary, and worn, and tired. So tired.

Caleb hesitated, his head turned back to look at Essek, the rest of him still wanting to leave the uncomfortable encounter as swiftly as possible.

But he had never seen the drow look quite as he did now. He was drawn, and guant looking, with heavy shadows beneath his eyes. His face was lined, and Caleb would have sworn there was a slight shake to his hand. The mask had dropped, and without it, Essek did not seem so austere and god-like.

He seemed real. Real, and vulnerable, and Caleb found that he could not turn away from him when he looked like that.

“I should be the one apologising to you, Caleb,” he said, laying a delicate emphasis on the last word.

The use of his name was meant to gentle his previous reproaches, and was an attempt at establishing a softer, more intimate bridge between them once more. He allowed it, and turned back fully to face Essek.

“You are correct, I have been feeling…” he cast about for the right word, “Out of sorts, lately,” he settled on. “I have not been myself. Naturally one with your intellect and perception noticed such a thing, and you sought to ask after my well-being once you had done so. I...Overreacted.”

It was clear that apologising didn’t come naturally to him. Caleb doubted he had much practice at it.

He gave Caleb a small smile, and Caleb tentatively lowered himself down onto the broad bough by the fire Essek was using as a seat.

“I am not accustomed to being read so easily,” he said, his smile widening slightly, but remaining as sharp as ever, “And I am even less accustomed to people giving voice to things they might have picked up from me. My position at court tends to deflect others from making such comments about me.”

Caleb hung his head, feeling heat creep up his neck again. Well done, Widogast. All you had to do was keep your stupid mouth shut. How difficult would that have been? he thought furiously at himself.

“I am sorry,” he mumbled to his lap, just as Frumpkin obligingly leapt onto it, emerging from his coat, and allowed him to bury his fingers in his thick fur, like an anchor.

A moment later, he started in surprise, as Essek laid a gentle hand upon his forearm. He looked up and met those strange, beautiful eyes that he found fixed on his face.

“That was not a reprocah, Caleb,” he said, gently, “It is actually quite refreshing,” he went on, and Caleb looked up at him again to see a rather wry smile tugging at his lips.

“What do you mean?” Caleb asked, still feeling a little tentative, but emboldened by Essek’s gentle familiarity and evident effort to repair any damage done by his snappish comments.

Essek shrugged and reclined lazily, somehow managing to managing to make lounging against a log look elegant.

“The deference and awe that come with such an appointment were fun for perhaps the first quarter century,” he confessed easily ,seemingly oblivious to the fact that that described a time period almost as long as Caleb had lived his entire life.. “But now I just tend to find all the bowing and scraping and tip-toeing around me rather wearing.”

His smile became almost mischievous and he leaned in conspiratorially.

“Once, a servant entered my bedchamber to deliver an urgent message and found me nude and somewhat... engaged ,”

Caleb felt himself flushing, and immediately felt angry with himself. He was not a teenager.

“He passed out cold right there on the floor in front of me,” Essek said, smirking in an almost satisfied way.

“What on earth were you doing?” Caleb wondered allowed, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

Essek’s smile became near predatory as he said, archly, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Widogast?”

He let Caleb squirm for a moment, apparently enjoying flustering him.

Then he said, “It’s nice to meet someone who can speak to me like a person, and not as the Bright Queen’s Shadowhand. It is easy to get...Lost in such a position. To lose all sense and semblance of yourself to a title.” He seemed to think he had said too much and trailed away delicately.

Caleb gave him a moment to compose himself then said, too bluntly, “But you are well, ja?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re utterly relentless, Widogast?” Essek said, his tone caught somewhere between teasing and seriousness.

“It might have been mentioned,” Caleb mumbled at his knees, which still contained the reassuring and, at the moment, very necessary comforting weight of Frumpkin.

“You amaze me,” Essek teased, his tone still light. Then he sighed and said, “To answer your question, Caleb, I am well enough.”

Caleb frowned slightly at that.

Let it drop, Widogast , he thought, fiercely, curling his hand into a fist, nails biting into the palm, he has given you enough. More than he should have. Let it go. For once in your life, let it go.

“That is not really an answer at all,” he said, cursing himself even as the words tumbled out of his mouth.

The dull flush of heat and colour that had been creeping up his neck flooded into his cheeks as Essek raised his head and blinked slowly at him. He clenched his fingers in Frumpkin’s thick fur. The cat licked his hand gently, the rough, warm rasp of his tongue oddly comforting.

“I am sorry,” he said, lowering his eyes again.

He wanted to tell Essek that he was only pushing because he knew what it felt like to be not okay, to be as not okay as it was possible to be, and the longing to be asked, to be pushed, to be made to confess to such in the vague hope that someone might help him.

But his body was no longer cooperating with him and was refusing to let him speak anymore.

Why couldn’t you have done that earlier before I started this mess? He thought bitterly.

“You care, Caleb,” Essek said, softly, and the renewed use of his given name, his chosenname, marked the sincerity of the words, “You should never feel the need to apologise for that.”

“I am being impertinent,” he argued, shaking his head.

Essek smirked at that, “I thought I told you I liked your impertinence?”

Then he sighed deeply and dragged a hand through his short, white hair, growing more serious.

“It is not a cause for concern,” he said. Then he paused, frowning slightly, as though his next words had only truly struck him now, “It is not really a cause for such secrecy, either. I am not ashamed of my condition, but..” he trailed off with a vague grimace.

“But perception is important in certain circles,” Caleb supplied, “Especially when politics are involved.”

Essek studied him for a long moment, then nodded.

Caleb had not spent time at court. He had barely spent time at the academy after Trent had taken an... interest in him. But he had been trained for it. And that training had given him a unique insight into how some people at these courts worked.

“The body is not important in our culture,” Essek said now, bringing Caleb back to himself, pulling him away from his darkening thoughts about Trent and his tuition. “You cannot choose the shape you wear to walk the world, or the challenges that come with it. The body is but a tool of the mind, the soul , it should not matter to our people.”

Caleb blinked at that. He felt something similar with regards to his own body. Flesh, like clay, or metal, or stone, could be changed. It could be shaped and altered to suit one’s needs. But he had never heard it laid out so clearly. He nodded.

“It should matter least of all at court, in the presence of our Queen,” Essek added darkly.

“But it does,” Caleb guessed.

“To some,” Essek agreed, lip curling to show what he thought of them. “I am young,” he said, then, as though he sensed the vague incredulity that stirred within Caleb at that, he amended, “By the standards of my people. Were I human I would surely be an ancient, hideous wretch by now.”

“You are certainly not that,” Caleb muttered before he could stop himself.

“I should think not,” Essek quipped, a little levity briefly lifting his tone. He sobered again as he went on, “But I was considered very young indeed - an inexperienced upstart - when I was appointed to such a prestigious position within the court.”

Caleb smiled a little at the thought of Essek being considered an upstart.

“I have had to prove myself every day since my selection. I have had to be twice as quick, and cunning, and brilliant than a more traditional candidate just to stand up to their scrutiny. It has been...Difficult, sometimes.”

“I understand,” Caleb said quietly. Essek glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and he expanded. “It was not on the same level as this, of course, but...The academy I was trained at-” He faltered.

His fingers flexed into Frumpkin’s thick, soft form. The cat began purring loudly, head butting against his hand.

He swallowed and went on, “It was very prestigious, very important. The best in the Empire. Students there were typically from noble families, with more land and wealth than my entire town combined.”

He made a vague noise of disgust in the back of his throat and dug his hand into the soft earth beside them, scooping up a handful and holding it out to Essek.

“I came from this. From dirt. From nothing. There was a lot of feeling at the school that I did not belong there. So I had to work harder, and be better, to prove that I did, that I deserved the knowledge I was given, the power I was gathering.”

He had not, after all, deserved any of it. Not after what he had done with it. But that had nothing to do with his class or where he had been born. It was just something inside himthat had gone wrong.

Essek was eyeing the lump of earth in his hand with a curious expression, his head tilted to one side. After a moment he reached out, fingers gently brushing Caleb’s, and lifted it into his own hand. Caleb was so shocked by this he couldn’t even begin to protest, even if he’d wanted to.

“Would it surprise you to know that I also came from this?” he asked, squeezing the earth slightly, pressing the vague shapes of his fingers into it. He huffed out a soft laugh, “Almost literally. My family were farmers of very little renown. We cared for the land, and it cared for us in return. But my mother...Saw something within me. She persuaded my father to save their money to send me to a nearby city for an education and…” He allowed himself a small smile, and looked up, meeting Caleb’s eyes again as he said, “And now here we are.”

“Here we are,” Caleb agreed, feeling a little punch drunk at this sudden flood of information he had never expected from the reserved drow.

Essek had always been cordial with them, of course, always polite, and amenable to their ever more irksome requests. But this was different…

He was not the Bright Queen’s appointed assistant now, not the cool, cunning court emissary, the powerful, inimitable shadowhand, nor even the patient, impassioned teacher of dunamancy.

He was...Softer, warmer, far more genuine, and real . There was a strange vulnerability to him in this moment, and Caleb felt himself being drawn irresistibly to him. As though Essek had somehow made himself Caleb’s anchor point, the spot which gravity bound and pulled him to.

The fingers on Essek’s other hand sketched through the air, tracing invisible lines. Somatic components for a spell, obviously. Caleb’s analytical mind coaxed him into memorising their shapes. But he quickly became distracted, watching as the little lump of earth in Essek’s hand began to transform, responding to his prompting motions.

“This is the foundation of our world, Widogast,” he said, his eyes fixed on the earth as well, “Everything we have ever made, everything we ever will, every empire we will build, every invention we ever create, every figure in history, great or terrible, has stood upon this earth, and will do so in the future.”

Caleb watched, transfixed, as the earth rose up in a small, vertical line, and began shaping itself as Essek went on.

“Great things grow from what you and I come from, Widogast,” he completed the spell, and handed the earth back to Caleb. It was now shaped into a tiny, perfect model of a cat. Caleb held it between his thumb and index finger, and only managed to tear his eyes away when Essek spoke again, “You and I are proof of that.”

Tension swelled between them, and the moment hung, pregnant with expectation and anticipation.

Then Essek looked away, breaking the spell, and shifted in place, casually readjusting his mantle as he did so.

“Of course, my background made my appointment even more controversial,” he continued.

His voice was no longer that low, rumbling thrum, containing power and promise, like a storm sweeping over a damned plain.

“And my consecution, even more so,” he gave his head a small shake. “It is...Very unusual to be chosen for immortality so young. Even more so for someone of my...Status,” he laid a delicate emphasis on the word. “The dens like to pretend otherwise, but there’s old blood, old wealth and power, seeded within them. Often that speaks more than true talent or virtue when it comes to determining one’s place within a den.”

Caleb nodded. He had seen that feeling of the importance of old, noble families, very well in the empire. Some things remained the same between them, regardless of their differences.

“There are some people - at court, and within my den, who would take any and all opportunity to tear me down, to find excuses as to why I do not deserve the honours I have earned through study, and loyalty, and devotion to our queen and our cause,” his voice hardened, and a note of uncharacteristic anger laced the words. “If they knew of my condition, they would find a way to use it against me, I have no doubt. It is not even very unusual, and it is relatively manageable, but I-”

He suddenly broke off, fixing Caleb with a strange, piercing gaze that he couldn’t quite read.

“What?” he blurted out, feeling suddenly defensive, clinging to Frumpkin as he did so, hunching in on himself instinctively.

“You have...A very strange gravity about you, Caleb Widogast,” Essek said, finally.

The words made him shiver, for reasons he could not explain.

“I have not spoken to another soul about any of this in..In years .” He blinked slightly, as though only just fully realising this himself, “And here I am, in the middle of a desolate forest, in the dead of winter, spilling all of my innermost secrets to you without a thought.” He shook his head, huffing out a small laugh as he did so.

“You do not have to tell me anything,” Caleb said, slowly, not entirely sure what Essek wanted to hear. “I do not want you to- If you are not comfortable, I would rather-”

“But I am, Essek interrupted him, smoothly.

He was holding his gaze now, the scorching moonlight of his eyes like a beacon in the twilight of the silent forest.

“I trust you, Caleb Widogast,” he breathed, softly, “I feel like a fool, but I do. You are a human. A human from the Empire. You have admitted to training with the worst of your kind, training to kill me, and mine, and to destroy everything I have ever cared for…”

For once, that thought didn’t cripple him. The way Essek was staring at him, as though he was powerful, and dangerous, and everything he feared that he was...But good. Good, and wanted, and trusted .

He did not shrink away from it. He did not flinch from the burning gaze of the man before him, and the connection it forged between them. He held that stare, and drank in Essek’s words, and he leaned into whatever it was that was growing between them in this moment. It was strange, and alien, and frightening...But he wanted it.

“Everything you have told me, everything I know of you, and all that I have guessed, tells me I should not trust you but...I do. I cannot help myself.”A thin smile, warmer than the usual cutting smirks, tugged at his lips then. “There is something very... Honest about you, Caleb. It’s rather intoxicating, if you want the truth.”

Caleb kissed him.

He hadn’t planned it. He hadn’t sat and agonised over the consequences of doing it. He hadn’t even really considered it at all. Not properly. Not beyond stolen moments lying awake at night with no-one but the stars watching. He had never thought about what it might mean, what it could do to the group, what it could do to him. He hadn’t thought at all.

He had just acted. He had trusted his instincts and let them guide him for what felt like the first time since that fateful night.

That should have been terrifying. It should have made him withdraw so far into himself he might never emerge again.

But it didn’t.

In the moment, all he felt was exhilaration. Adrenaline pulsed through him as he surged forwards, pressing himself into Essek’s shocked arms.

Dimly, he was aware of Frumpkin leaping away from them, puffed up in alarm. But his flash of regret was swallowed almost at once by the flood of emotion that rushed through him as he finally gave in to this thing that had been growing between them for too long.

He was tired of loneliness. He was tired of isolation, and self-loathing, and stewing in bitter memories. He was tired of dragging himself through each day because survival was too strong an instinct to fight.

He wanted to feel again. He wanted to live again. And in the moment he didn’t care if he deserved it. He didn’t care that he was broken, and rotten, and the worst dregs that humanity had ever spat up onto this plane. He didn’t care. There was an opportunity in front of him. An opportunity to have something more . And he was seizing it. And fuck the consequences.

Caleb drew away for a second, shaking. He half expected Essek to pull away from him, disgusted, or even offended. But the drow was just giving him another one of those burning looks.

“Well,” he murmured, at last, tugging his mantle straight again, “You are full of surprises today, aren’t you Widogast?”

Caleb opened his mouth, regret was flooding him, tearing away his blinding moment of revelation and replacing it with all his old doubts and insecurities. “I-” he began.

Essek pressed a finger against his mouth and said, “If you attempt to apologise to me for this, I will dump that entire cauldron of stew Caduceus is working on over your head, Widogast, I swear to the Luxon.”

“That sounds like a waste of good stew,” Caleb mumbled.

He was talking about stew . He had a powerful, cunning, incredible, beautiful man in his lap and he was talking about stew .

Essek dragged this tips of his fingers through Caleb’s hair, anchoring his hands there, his thumbs resting tenderly against his cheeks, framing his face.

“Now,” he said, a distinct low purr in his usually smooth voice, “Where were we?”

Essek kissed him. Kissed him like the taste of his tongue was a tonic for every pain he’d ever endured. He gripped the lapels of Caleb’s coat and pulled him in with that lithe strength that elves were famed for. Caleb did not resist, not the pull of his hands, or the pull of his hunger that pushed them closer, still.

Caleb couldn’t help the groan that escaped him at the feel of Essek’s tongue pressing into the seam between his lips. He felt heat flood into his cheeks, embarrassed at how needy he must sound to Essek. But Essek only pulled him closer in answer.

He dragged his fingers through Caleb’s hair, nails scraping against his scalp, making him groan again, his body arching instinctively into the touch. He felt Essek’s smirk of satisfaction against his lips and pulled him closer, giving him a taste of his tongue, and of his own medicine. He felt Essek shiver in response.

Why hadn’t they done this before? Why hadn’t they spent every moment of those study sessions lost in each other? They had spent so much time buried in books, separated by scratchy, crumbling sheets of parchment, and walls of books, when they could have hadthis .

Caleb drew Essek’s bottom lip between his teeth and bit down, gently. He felt Essek stiffen, then melt into his embrace, surrendering to him, letting him lead this little dance of theirs.

A heady sense of power trickled through him. He hadn’t felt in control of anything, not his surroundings, or his circumstances, or even himself, in so long .

And Essek was giving that to him. Giving him this soft, pilable vulnerability for Caleb to drag out every bit of plesaure and feeling that he could. He was the Shadowhand to the Krynn dynasty, a consecrated chosen of the Luxon. His very skin thrummed with magic. He was so powerful he could have snapped every body in Caleb’s body with a thought. But he was giving himself over to him.

Caleb shivered, and pulled him in closer, giving him everything he seemed ready to take from him.

When they broke apart, both panting slightly, it was to find that Caduceus was hovering awkwardly alongside them.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said in his deep, slow voice, “But I figured you’d want to know dinner was ready. You’ll probably need it if you plan to carry on with that.”

He nodded and walked away, leaving Caleb’s face glowing as though he had bad sun burn. He turned back to Essek who had his lips pressed firmly together, maintaining his composure, though his eyes were dancing with amusement.

“Wait here,” Caleb said, extracating himself from the drow’s lap, “I will bring yours, too.”

“I’m not an invalid,” Essek snapped sharply, a bite of impatience in his voice.

“I know that,” Caleb said calmly, momentarily taken aback by the sudden venom.

“Then you should know why you don’t have to bring things to me. I’m capable of getting them myself.”

Caleb raised his eyebrows, “Does this mean I am not allowed to do anything nice for you, Shadowhand?” he asked, the words layered with a hint of suggestion he knew would tug on Essek’s interest.

Essek stared him down for a long moment, apparently weighing his options.

“Here,” Caleb said, snapping his fingers, “Hold Frumpkin for me,” the cat appeared on Essek’s lap and immediately began purring loudly and head-butting Essek’s hand as enthusiastically as possible, trying to get his ears scratched. “I will be back in a moment.”

Essek was clearly still trying to look indignant and irritated, but couldn’t stop the small smile flickering across his face.

Caleb left him irritably tickling Frumpkin’s chin and went to collect two bowls of stew from Caduceus.

The firbolg handed them over without comment, which Caleb was grateful for. Partly because he did not much feel like being interrogated at the moment, and partly because he was reasonably certain that if Caduceus thought this was a terrible idea, he would have gently tried to dissuade him. The silence was approval, and that was good enough for Caleb.

Caleb padded back to Essek, and Frumpkin, and handed him his bowl and some cutlery. Frumpkin gave a soft meow of interest and promptly shoved his head into Essek’s bowl.

“Frumpkin, that is not polite-” Caleb began, but Essek was already feeding him a little scrap of meat from his bowl. “You should not encourage him,” Caleb said, frowning at the cat as he licked Essek’s fingers, “He is greedy.”

Frumpkin gave him an indignant look.

Essek smiled, “Then you shouldn’t have left him with me. You know I’ve got a soft-spot for red-heads.”

Caleb flushed a little as he sat back down on the log beside Essek. “Would you allow me to try something?” he blurted out as Essek raised his fork to his lips.

Essek glanced at him, eyebrows raised, and Caleb felt his flush darkening. Which was ridiculous, but telling himself that made no difference.

“What, precisely, do you want to try, Caleb?” he said, lips quirking into a small smile, “And is it something that can appropriately be performed in front of an audience?” he nodded significantly towards the rest of the nein who had flocked to Caduceus’ stew like a plague of rabid locusts.

His flush deepening he mumbled, “It is easier to show you.” At the arch of Essek’s eyebrows he said, “And it is nothing, nothing inappropriate .” (Yet). Then he added with a small smile, “You did say that you trusted me.”

“I did,” Essek agreed, then, more seriously, “And I do.” He gestured for Caleb to proceed.

Carefully, Caleb channelled some of the fire magic into his palms, not enough to ignite the air, but enough to cause heat to stream from him. He reached out and closed his fingers gently around Essek’s wrist. Then he carefully, so carefully, he pushed the heat, extending it further and further into Essek’s body, following the pathway of his blood, warming him from the inside.

Essek’s whole body shuddered, and for a terrible moment, Caleb thought he had gone too far and hurt him. Then he gripped his hand and said, a little hoarsely, “Thank you, Caleb.”

Caleb let himself smile tentatively, as this power that had done nothing but hurt and destroy everyone he had ever cared for...Found a way to heal some of the deep wounds it had inflicted upon his soul.

****

#shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #critical role #essek x caleb #text post tag #long post #cr fic #shadowgast fic #my fic #fic #mine #thirsty wizards #i love them #they've really got their hooks into me #more fic will likely follow tbh #im highly Invested #oh dear

218 notes · View notes

sumi-sprite · 5 years

Text

Omnic Study: Deducing the Original Functions of Well-Known Omnics Based On Their Appearances

Okay people, just, like, bear with me for a hot minute here.

I actively try to stay away from Omnic HCs for numerous reasons; the primary ones being so I can develop my own HCs, and to avoid canonical bias. And it has so far worked! As such, I guess I wanted to put together a bit of an “HC article” about Omnics and their numerous aesthetical appearances, and WHY they were built they way they (possibly) were.

Or, Sumi tries to pull a smort and guess what it was Omnics were initially built to do based on their appearances and other known information.

Please note, this is going off of the assumption that these examples were of Omnics “born” with their current bodies in the examples, and were not later modded or changed as their situations allowed them.

So, let’s begin!

The Uncanny Valley

Uncanny Valley is defined, “In aesthetics, the uncanny valley is a hypothesized relationship between the degree of an object's resemblance to a human being and the emotional response to such an object. ... The uncanny valley hypothesis predicts that an entity appearing almost human will risk eliciting cold, eerie feelings in viewers.”

In short, the more something that isn’t human looks human, the more eerie it is to look at, and the more uncomfortable and even frightened a person may feel looking at it. It is theorized that phobias of mannequins and other human-esque objects and entities stem from the Uncanny Valley. The theory of the Uncanny Valley has a lot to do with the brain’s perception and observation of an object that has a form that, on an instinctive level, the brain is trying to figure out if this object is human, or if it is not human. Neurons start going off as the brain confusedly tries to figure out just what it is looking at, and whether or not it needs to process this entity as “human”, thus a relatable, living creature you could possibly connect with, or “not human”, thus not something you can socialize with and build a relationship with. This confusion of the brain results in the eerie feeling of uncertainty, that “uncanny” feeling.

But! There is a flipside to the Uncanny Valley.

Humans are, naturally (and arguably), social creatures with a need to relate to and empathize with other people (again, arguably, just roll with it people). In the extreme, an object that looks human despite not being human can be extremely unnerving, thus, the extreme of the Uncanny Valley theory. But, if something looks roughly human but has distinguishingly not human features, it turns the uncanny feeling into a sense of curiosity. It’s much easier to react positively to something that is just on the margin of different, but just within the realm of similar, and thus it is easier to interact with.

This is why series such as Transformers have worked out and maintain a loyal following. Because the characters are humanoid, but not human. They are just humanoid enough to relate to, but not so close to looking human that we want nothing to do with them. Humans are naturally attracted to things that look like them, but not so much so that we can’t figure out if it’s another human or not. We like relating to things in this way. This object has two arms, two legs, a head, two eyes, a mouth, etc; but it also has features that scream it is not human. This object has skin, hair, two arms, two legs, two eyes, a mouth, talks, blinks...but it’s not human; and it is making you very uncomfortable.

Stay with me, there is a reason I am explaining all of this!

Okay, so, we now know generally what the Uncanny Valley is without getting too technical, and we have a small example of how and why it is utilized in media. Media creators know we like things like robots and androids and those characters that are humanoid, but not human.

So, onto Omnics and their aesthetical appearances, with image examples to pick apart and theorize what they may have been originally built to do and why!

I repeat - this is all going off the assumption these Omnics have not upgraded themselves or have done too much to change their appearances.

Let’s start off with arguably two of the most popular Omnics - Zenyatta and Mondatta!

The Omnics

Arguably the simplest in design, we know there are a lot more decorative and aesthetically complex Omnics in the Overwatch universe, but we will get to those later. For now, let’s break these boys down.

Zenyatta is a very simple design, made almost frail by his seeming lack of armor. It is not entirely clear if this is just his design overall, or if he ever had more armor to begin with. If at some point he did have more armor, he likely would have looked similar to the Omnics seen in the Alive short, with an example below.

We can see many similarities and even full matches to some plating in the example image and Zenyatta’s image. The breastplates seen in the example image and on Zenyatta are identical, and the areas we can see that seem to be missing armor can easily be filled in with the plates of the Omnic on the left side of the example image. Even the abdominal plate of the Omnic on the left seems like it would fit almost perfectly on Zenyatta’s abdomen where it seems he is missing a similar plate.

(Note that it is somewhat doubtful that Zenyatta would actually look exactly like the Omnics presented in the image if he had full armor, because it seems Omnics in general have regional attributes and trademark appearances based off of what region they may be from. The Omnics above are likely to be European trademark models since they are, in fact, in Europe. But you get the idea.)

Regardless of any armor he may or may not have had, his design is simple. Extremely simple. There does not appear to be any overtly human qualities to him aside from his overall shape and form. He has two legs, two arms, a torso, fingers, a head, and very vague facial features. Two slits in his face downturned at the outer corners serve as a marker for eyes without being actual human eyes, and a differently colored, seemingly locked jaw serves as a marker for a mouth. Curves added to his waist and chest lend more humanlike features and proportions. The only thing about him that may make a human uncomfortable or give him an odd second look is his ability to perpetually hover.

He’s nowhere within the extreme of the Uncanny Valley; he sits right on that very comfortable margin that, when you look at him, he is just familiar enough in shape to be relatable to as one who shares a similar shape, but he is clearly not a human being. His lack of true facial features helps this, and his overall having no skin, hair, eyes, etc also helps the brain determine that he is not human, and thus will not instigate that confusion in the brain.

This makes him of a build that is, very likely, not truly meant to be worth a second glance.

Zenyatta’s build is, as I said, extremely simplistic. This tells me, personally, that he was not built with the purpose of working close with humans. He isn’t decorative enough to warrant attention from one or more people, and he doesn’t possess the features needed to allow humans to identify with him on a level to prompt cooperation. Because he is so simple in design, and his lifestyle suggests he was built to be relatively sturdy, he was likely meant to be a laborer of some sort. He is an Omnic who was built to work “behind the scenes” if you will, with little to no human interactions outside of management.

Aesthetically speaking, he is easily passed over if you were to walk by him while he was working or doing something mundane; moreso if he wasn’t wearing his current attire.

It is, unfortunately, impossible to gauge a more broad idea of what Zenyatta’s original function may have been. Because he is likely missing a massive amount of armor, we lose the idea of how sturdy he is, thus what sort of environments he would be able to work in. His proportions are, like most Omnics, exaggerated, with seeming emphasis placed on his limbs, which may suggest he was meant to be frequently mobile. This is a bit difficult to gauge though considering he hasn’t been seen moving with both feet on the ground.

Many have theorized (myself included recently) that Zenyatta had come from Null Sector, and as such, probably underwent a full downgrade and hardware replacements. If this is the case, we really can’t make any solid guesses to anything unless we see what he looked like pre-downgrade.

(Hmm…)

It is difficult to add much more on what Zenyatta likely was prior to his current self. We lack visuals of him in casual settings, and have mostly audio, screenshots, gifs, and in-game bonus animations to work with, and very little else. Gestures and mannerisms are somewhat lacking, so it’s impossible to gauge a 100% determination of what exactly he could have been in his primary function. His voice lines also mostly determine his current life, rather than many implications of what he used to be or do before the current time. So for now, I can only guage what he was originally built for on his appearance alone.

(Waiting on that lore too, guys…)

Mondatta is in a very similar though distinct boat.

Mondatta is sort of the aesthetic step up from Zenyatta. It has been theorized they are the same make and model, but of a newer and older variety (Mondatta usually depicted as an older model of Zenyatta). But there are also some very distinct oddities to Mondatta that Zenyatta lacks.

Many people have theorized Mondatta was meant to be a focal point of attention as his original function. He is very eye catching and distinct from other Omnics, but then again, just how many Omnics have we seen in the Overwatch franchise? He is also hardly the most aesthetically complex. Like Zenyatta, he is extremely simple in design, with slightly sharper angles and narrower features than Zenyatta, who boasts rounder features and more curves. There are also very subtle yet telling nuances that put him between a simple model and a complex model.

Firstly, his coloring. As far as my research goes, I haven’t seen another Omnic with white armor remotely similar to Mondatta. Most Omnics we have seen are chrome with features in more chrome, copper, black, silver, etc. It is very unlikely he got this armor to replace or upgrade a former armor set. The armor he wears is chipped and stained in some places, suggesting its age and wear. I can also safely assume that Omnic armor of such an obscure color is probably not cheap, and he does not seem like the type to drop so much for frivolous aesthetics. He doesn’t seem to have an obvious reason to adding the white armor to himself at one point in time. Mondatta, while simple in design is obscure for this reason alone.

Another obscurity of Mondatta is his size in comparison to his proportions.

Now, we do not know his or the guards’ heights, but with the average male standing around 6ft (roughly 182cm) tall, we can guess that Mondatta is roughly around 6ft tall, if not taller standing next to his guards, so perhaps 2 or more inches taller than Zenyatta (5ft 8in). We also get to see that his bodily proportions are very close to a tall human’s build. If he is an older model, it is likely that classical proportions went into his design, whereas with Zenyatta, slightly more exaggerated proportions were used. This could also just be a simple result of hardware. Omnics, from what I can see, are very disproportionate because of the ratio of hardware they carry. It’s almost impossible to make an artificial entity with exact human proportions without adding a synthetic skin and padding to fill in narrow or hollow spaces.

Larger Omnics tend to have more exaggerated and wider proportions, yet with Mondatta’s size making him a relatively larger Omnic, he remains in sensible proportion similar to a human, rather than more exaggerated like other larger Omnics. This makes him appear exceptionally tall, though not notably broad. This also makes him sturdy.

He is not thickly built, but there is an implied broadness in his shoulders that, if taken into proportion with the rest of his body (unseen), suggests he is likely bigger and set a bit heavier than Zenyatta, with a larger and slightly more elongated and squared head, which may suggest a stronger and faster processor, or just a lot more hardware to buffer the processors. Though “size doesn’t matter” has become a bit of a running gag for humans, in machines, it usually counts since the hardware size can sometimes imply the power, speed, and efficiency of the software. He likely has a very powerful AI. In a word, he’s smart.

All of this tells me that Mondatta was only slightly like Zenyatta in that he was never meant to work closely with humans. But while Zenyatta was probably never meant to interact with humans at all, Mondatta may be an obscure exception. If he is given the hardware and software to be socially equipped to be dealing with mass crowds and individuals, it could be that he was only meant to work closely with selective humans.

Mondatta’s form is a prime example of “simple yet elegant”, aesthetically subtle and pristine, but not so complex as to be a distraction. His form is one you may expect to see on a well-dressed servant. It could be theorized he is even a custom model some well off individual commissioned to perhaps work as a personal servant. And if in fact he was meant to work closely with one individual in particular, he probably could have been the individual’s assistant - be it for work or in personal assistance, or even health assistance. He would need to be able to, to a degree, argue with and refuse certain orders - ie refusing to finish a project, refusing to take medicine, etc - and try and convince his owner to do something they need to do, but may not want to.

(Confirmed: Mondatta is Ra9)

Both his appearance and his processors imply a sort of interpersonal function, and one that demanded he toe a few lines without actually crossing into areas of insubordination. His function probably demanded he maintain a certain amount of order, and even power, in his former function.

But this also may beg a more functional reason as to why he looks the way he does. Let’s go back to his coloring and his sturdy built again for a moment. As we know, Russia in Overwatch has its own Omnium, and is home to hostile Omnics. Siberia is a common battleground, with Zarya herself being from a Siberian village that got caught in the crossfires. And as we know, a lot of areas in Russia, particularly Siberia, is covered in snow. If at some point Mondatta was built during the Crisis, it would be prudent and even smart to make sure he, as a soldier or otherwise, could blend into his environment during a fight. This could imply he is a Russian made Omnic, and with his simple yet distinct form, could have been anything from a grunt soldier to a higher ranking Omnic officer (if the God AIs even used the militant system).

If his processors are as powerful as they are seemingly implied, this could work well in his favor as a personal servant or a part of the Crisis. As a servant to someone well off, he would probably need to engage with and determine orders and who he can and can’t take those orders from, and thus he would need an AI powerful enough to discriminate, categorize, and even personalize. In a war situation, this would help in strategizing and organizing, even mapping and planning defence and offensive techniques.

Regardless, his aesthetic appearance sits in a margin similar to Zenyatta’s: not too human as to be uncanny, but not so distinctly object-like to not be comfortable interacting with. But he is also touching just this side of a more complex Omnic because of his armor coloring, his overall build, and the implication of powerful processors. He seems, quite simply, like he is built to walk just as well as he talks.

He makes up for his lack of humanoid features with his manner of speech, gestures, and other body language. He gestures frequently during his speech in Alive, and even when he is being escorted off the stage to make his escape, he makes contact with and nods to the crowd as a sign of conscious acknowledgement. This could be a learned behavior, but if it is in fact an ingrained part of his function, it could imply that he is supposed to acknowledge people who are speaking to or regarding him. A sort of “speak only when spoken to” behavior that serving staff would typically be taught. The more he acknowledges, the more he engages, the easier it would be for a human to relax around him and relate to him, and thus make his job easier, and thus increase his efficiency.

But if he did not have these habits and mannerisms ingrained, he had to have the social baseline to learn, and indeed to want to learn them, perhaps even out of necessity. These gestures and little nuances in his everyday body language would be vital in his endeavor to show humans that Omnics are alive and deserve the same treatment as humans. They make him more easy to communicate and cooperate with humans.

(It is somewhat ironic that we can gauge more about Mondatta personality and function-wise from a single short animation, than we can from Zenyatta over years of gameplay)

Now comes a slightly more obscure model that toes the line of Uncanny Valley, and mild anthropomorphism.

Lynx 17 is an example of a VERY obscure Omnic due to one major factor - their adorable headgear.

Lynx is a bit difficult to discern in terms of what their original function was, but with their abilities, we can conclude they were in fact originally intended for computer-based fields; assuming they did not install these functions and software themselves at one point.

Lynx’s possible function is also further obscured by their appearance - or perhaps enhanced by it.

A trademark of Lynx is their ear-like helm extensions. We can safely just assume they function as functional antennae to further enhance their wireless networking and hacking skills. They could also be a means of protection, not unlike an antenna used to project a powerful firewall around their processors. But, looking at the upper left image, we can see they are also used to express emotions.

We also see, in most of the images above, that they have larger optic slits, and in fact, have visible optics. It could be just optical glass inset into their optic slits, but the adding of glass makes a tremendous difference.

Eye contact is something vital to human beings, and it helps for other living things to have eyes they can see and lock with. Gazing into the eyes has been proven to help strengthen relationships of all sorts, and even helps make short term relationships (such as interviews) a much more successful endeavor if you can keep eye contact. This suggest Lynx was, in fact, supposed to work relatively close with humans, probably on a one-on-one basis, or in small groups.

Back to the odd appearance. Lync overall is a sort of subclass example of anthropomorphism, which has been linked vaguely to the Uncanny Valley. Their helm shape, helm antenna, larger optics, and the glass used to make them look like they have more noticeable eyes puts them in a very weird area in terms of human relations. And in fact, this may have only helped them if they were meant to work with humans.

Humans have a much easier time relating to animals than other humans. You ever hear the phrase, “Greet the dog, ignore the owner”? Well, here is your middle ground. People like animals. People like anthropomorphic humanoids. People like anthropomorphic, humanoid robots. And to go further, people who work in more technical and computer-based industries tend to have a much lower tolerance for fellow human beings, and in fact will pick an animal over having a five minute conversation with humans. Animals are just that much more approachable, and they’re easier to get along with, and in fact have been proven to reduce stress in a tense work environment.

This tells me that Lynx likely was built to work in a technical industry, perhaps as tech support or a tech assistant of some sort. But due to the social minefield most humans in this field walk in, it was likely to the benefit of the makers to make Lynx just that more approachable; not by making them look more human, but by making them look less human, and more animal. Again, their antenna features could be entirely utilitary to their function, rather than just an aesthetic; or they could be both. Regardless, the antenna and other, smaller elements have made the idea that Lynx, in function, was supposed to work with humans in an industry where the humans in question would find them more approachable if they looked less human. We can’t go much further due to the rest of their body being covered by a jumpsuit, but from what little we can see, we can conclude Lynx was designed with social preferences in mind.

(On a slightly interesting note, Lynx’s model would make a great companion or minder to humans who have Autism or social defects. Their anthropomorphic design makes them easier to look at, as people with Autism or other social defects do indeed tend to prefer animals over other people and avidly avoid eye contact with other humans. The simple design coupled with the cat-like eyes and “ears” would make it easier for an individual with Autism in question to look them in the eyes more easily, and perhaps enhance and teach the individual in question how to interact with human peers on a much more comfortable level. Lynx’s model would be excellent in teaching subtle body language too because an individual could use their expressive “ears” as a reference, and later pick out the more human-like gestures in Lynx’s model to go along with the more telling droop, prick, and tilt of their “ears”)

Mondatta, Zenyatta, and Lynx 17 are simpler designs, so what about the more complex, thus more Uncanny, Omnics?

Enter, Maximilien…

This Pretentious Asshole™ that I would die for is an example of an Omnic that is much closer to the Uncanny Valley than the previous three Omnics.

Maximilien was first featured in the comic, Masquerade, then later in the campaign, Storm Rising. And looking at him even in the comics, we can all pretty safely conclude that he was meant to work with humans in both one on one, and mass.

Why can we conclude this? Because of his smug face. His head in general actually.

Of this entire list, Max will be only one of two Omnics we will see with a hairlike protrusion on their head. We can’t really say for certain that the “hair” was something he himself added at some point in his life, but it’s doubtful this is the case. We know Maximilien is Akande’s accountant, and that Max has some very high prestige for an Omnic. Storm Rising has shown us that he owns a brewery, and likely various other businesses around the world, and profiles and the comic have shown us that he runs a casino in Monaco. Max knows how to handle money, and this tells me that he is very likely still serving his original function as an accountant.

Accountants are far from the most pleasant people to be around, and working with them can be a chore in and of itself. Handling money is a chore in an of itself. And a lot of people in well-off situations just don’t want to deal with where their money goes and how it is being used, and will likely hire a high end accountant to manage it for them. There is an issue though: accountants tend to be human. Humans tend to make mistakes. They also tend to steal. So, the solution? Make a supercomputer accountant to handle your funds, with zero will or desire to even be greedy or steal from you. Bear in mind, this thought likely came into being before the Crisis and before Omnics started becoming more sentient and self-aware.

This makes Omnic accountants cheaper than their human counterparts, and it makes them a thousand times more efficient since you eliminate human error and bias. It is likely that Omnics like Max have extremely fast and efficient processors; they are living calculators, a sort of sentient supercomputer if you will. They likely have the ability to measure markets, determine stock, bond, and investment pros and cons in less than a few seconds, and can calculate safe and risky investments, as well as determine based on hyper-collected data what you should and should not invest in in the near or distant future. They likely have every up to date accounting manual and guideline in their memory banks, and every accounting and monetary law crammed into massive data banks inside their own processors.

This makes Maximilien and other Omnics like him smart. Frighteningly smart. I would honestly not be shocked if the theory of Max low-key puppeteering Akande to control Talon turned out to be true.

But, back to the aesthetics and why this works in Max’s favor. Max sits a step above the previous three Omnics, and likely many others, and is closer to the Uncanny Valley due to his very distinct and humanlike facial features. In the gifs above and in the beginning, we can see he not only has distinct and lit optics, but optics with shutters - he has eyelids. In fact, if you look closely at the gifs, you can even see he appears to have optic foci - or a pupils - that shift and flicker depending on where he is looking; from Genji’s sword to where Tracer is standing after she clears her throat to get his attention. Like Mondatta, he gestures and makes subtle movements to express in a way that is animated in a human manner and is either an ingrained part of his function, or a learned habit. And although lacking in solid confirmation in the Storm Rising cutscenes, in the comic and presented in the lower right image on the collage, we see Max has a fully articulated jaw that, in my personal theory, only opens when Max is in a state of more volatile or strong emotions.

Max’s humanlike features make him even more familiar to humans than Zenyatta, Mondatta, or Lynx. He’s easier to trust when it comes to business savvy men and women on a social level because he looks just enough like them to be comfortably familiar. Anyone looking for someone to manage their money would want someone who isn’t as likely to steal or make a blaring mistake with where money is spent, gained, or lost.

Now, we can assume Max is likely bleeding clients dry, but bear this in mind: he’s strategic. If anything I said about his processors is true, and if his final cutscene is implicit of his intelligence, then he would legitimately do his damndest to keep his clients happy and not rob them blind. Because if they decide he’s obsolete in managing their money, they will leave, and he loses reputation, money, and resources. Reputation is the lifeblood to any successful high end accountant’s career, and any slip or red mark on their ledger is an absolute death sentence. Max literally cannot afford to screw over accounting clients if he can help it.

He shows a sense of calm and lack of being intimidated by casually adjusting his tie and pin in the third gif of the first set. This expresses confidence. In the cutthroat world of business, no human would trust an accountant with zero confidence in themselves, otherwise, how can they trust them with their money? This could be a learned attribute to his personality, but confidence tends to stem from an inborn seed (meaning, one is not necessarily born confident, but they may be more predisposed to it as they age). Charisma, confidence, wit, charm, and brains are the key factors of a good accountant after all, and the attributes of an accountant someone with a lot of money can trust.

Maximilien does not seem to be loyal to any one person, as we see this loyalty ambiguity when he sold out Akande to be arrested by Overwatch. But we never find out if Akande found out, or even if Akande cared; if anything, perhaps Akande would find the fact endearing. Max seems to have an ingrained loyalty to whoever and whatever is going to benefit him in the long haul. He is “loyal” in the sense that he will remain loyal to X so long as X provides protection and absolute security without compromising his own life. Faced with Overwatch and no escape, Max no longer had any loyalty to Akande, thus sold him out.

This fluidity in loyalty is an absolute necessity in preserving one’s reputation, and thus one’s credibility and ability to perform their given task. It’s nice to feel like your accountant works for you 100%, but if that were the case, your funds would stagnate because your accountant has no resources and no connections, and thus, no means of actually helping your funds grow and increase. Accountants, and accountants like Max, need “friends in high places” as well as “friends in very low, very desperate, very dark places”. Thus, he needs charisma and social prowess, of which he has in spades (hah, puns).

He is a master negotiator if his getting off the hook with Overwatch is anything to go by, and is just enough of a “backstage” type of worker to very easily slide under the shifting leadership roles in Talon without a hitch. This also includes helping Akande remove Vialli from Talon’s head when Akande escapes prison, despite being the reason Akande was put into prison (though again, we do not know if Akande is savvy to this fact). Maximilien functions absolutely seamlessly in his craft, and that is strategy. His appearance gives nothing away of this, but his mannerisms, gestures, how he speaks, and the topics he discusses lend a serious implication to both his function and the benefits he gains by continuing to work by his function, rather than outside of it.

So far, we have seen three Omnics who likely had vastly to mildly different functions to what they do now. Max and others like him, due to how close they work to humans, and thus the benefits they reap, may in fact be more likely to serve their intended function rather than abandon it, while simpler, “disposable” Omnics are more likely to shift their perspectives.

Another Omnic similar in aesthetic class to Max is Luna.

Now, we know next to nothing about Luna, other than the fact she is present on the Paris map in the Cabaret Luna. Luna is a slightly off-the-wall case because of her appearance, and the fact that her gender is made physically very clear.

Most Omnics appear to present as sexless or male by default, usually based off of their bodies or their voices. In Lynx’s case, neutral pronouns are used by their choice. Luna is, as far as I can tell, the only distinctly female Omnic we have seen or had interactions with - second only to Athena/Iris and Orisa. We haven’t really seen any other female-oriented Omnics though, and with female characters of ANY species often being sexually emphasized so we ALL KNOW they ARE female (we get it, please stop with the armor bikinis), it’s very hard to miss if a character is defined - until stated otherwise - as female.

Luna is defined in a relatively subtle manner as female in numerous ways physically, and even audibly by her feminine singing voice. Women in entertainment are, well...they have expectations based on appearances, sadly. And with Omnics being made and installed with the desired hardware and software, even designed with the desired appearances, this criteria becomes moot.

Luna is clearly meant as an entertainer, though whether or not this is of her own choosing, it is difficult to say. There exists little to no information on her other than what her job is and where she is found. But based on her appearance, we can safely conclude she is meant to catch the eye of humans. Her entire physical appearance is meant to catch the eye, likely and primarily the eye of straight men.

She has a curved build with hide hips, an elaborate hairstyle, as well as lit optics set into a coy downturn at the inner corners. Even her facial plate seems to express a coy smile. She even has the implication of breasts on her chest. The cat ears add a sense of mischief and promiscuity, perhaps even some playfulness, and likely a nod to a sort of feline theme.

Though it may just be an attribute of the game itself, there could be implications that she is not a fully sentient Omnic. When spawned in Luna’s cabernet, she appears to be singing, but the whole room is empty. This may suggest she is not - or not yet - self-aware of anything but her function. Whether or not a room is empty, she keeps singing, day or night, until customers come in to watch and enjoy a drink or two. She is not “free” like Mondatta, Zenyatta, Max, and others may be, and in fact may be a very new and very young Omnic who has not yet had a chance to be someone other than her function. But again, this could mean absolutely nothing, and merely be an attribute of the game itself rather than Luna’s lore.

Looking at her arms, legs, feet, face, and collar, we can see light blue lines of biolights. This emphasises her presence, which heightens the desire to gather the attention of as many people as possible in a collective group. Humans are naturally drawn to light and flashing shapes, and this only further emphasises the intentions of her build. Adding in her flashy clothing, humanlike hair, jewelry, and her musical voice, we can safely assume she was built to entertain and catch an audience’s attention, and she is perhaps still serving this function, and may in fact not be self-aware just yet.

TL;DR - I spent a few hours compiling this pile of TRASH BABBLE because I was bored and couldn’t stop thinking about what could be implied by the appearances of some well-known Omnics in Overwatch and I needed to write it all down.

YES, I KNOW I SKIPPED ORISA AND BASTION. But let me explain why: Both Bastion and Orisa have had their primary functions made glaringly obvious as war and battle Omnics, and are in fact relics leftover from the Crisis, and thus, there isn’t really much to unpack about them. But if you want me to do a sort of study on them too in a more current sense rather than a past function and Uncanny Valley sense, let me know!

And that’s all I got. Can I go to bed now?

~Sumi

#overwatch #headcanon #Omnics #tekhartha zenyatta #tekhartha mondatta #mondatta #zenyatta #overwatch theory #theories and lore #maximilien #overwatch maximilien #luna #overwatch luna #overwatch omnic #Sumi is a Stupid Lil Squiddy #Sumi Rambles #so tired

114 notes · View notes

businessanalystcourse2-blog · 5 years

Text

Tips on how to Develop into a company Analyst in Major Administration

Business Analyst Course

A company analyst is usually a person who analyzes the purpose and framework of an group, to be able to come up with means to repair the organization's complications.

and MCAL Global

From the field of knowledge know-how, a business analyst is going to guage the organization's company construction to find out how it integrates with modern technology. The reasoning is usually to ascertain the organization's enterprise requirements or targets, and subsequently enhance the performance of IT in assembly people requirements / aims.

Stated below are a few from the vital techniques you can maybe obtain outlined like a business enterprise analyst:

Be Analytic A company analyst ought to be particularly detail-oriented. You should have very good analytical capabilities to have the ability to understand the different small business attributes. You should have an understanding of what scheduling, documentation and assessment approaches or methodologies to utilize. Sharpen your investigative competencies to be able to diagnose business enterprise system concerns and come up with effective answers.

Ensure that you have leading interactive abilities. Unique interactive expertise like listening, facilitating, interviewing, and documentation skills are a requirement. You should be able of detailing equally technological and enterprise patterns to the broad audience (complex too as non-technical).

You need to be distinct, concise and tactful. You'll want to possess wonderful negotiation competencies. In fact, section within your work might be to steer equally the management from the corporation and also the staff to just accept your options.

Be very well competent in business enterprise competencies. Referring to the small business side, a company analyst need to turn out to be aware about strategic arranging, business enterprise improvement methodologies, scenario improvement and organization producing.

Improve your administration abilities. A business analyst must be adept at decision-making, time supervision and organizational skills. You should have a operating expertise in challenge management ways and instruments.

Keep current with complex techniques. Within the technological side, you must possess a doing the job comprehension of computer system hardware and computer software utilized from the field. In case you come about to be on the a lot more technological aspect with the enterprise, you could be essential to generally be aware of data technology rules and guidelines, engineering techniques, modeling methods, complex writing at the same time as other people.

Have higher interpersonal skills. To generally be able to have the cooperation of most of the levels of the group, remarkable interpersonal capabilities are crucial. You have to be ready to operate with distinctive people and bring them jointly towards a standard function. Some are employed in multi-cultural environments which means, sensitivity and comprehension of a variety of perform approaches is too critical.

1 note · View note

raulgeneff9000-blog · 5 years

Text

Convert Audio Formats Utilizing VLC Media Player

MP4, in addition to AVI, are two of essentially the most generally used video formats. MP4, on the other hand, is a multimedia facilitator. It can handle video, stills, mp3 to mp4 converter free windows 10 subtitles, or textual content because it is a container format that shops data moderately than just code. ClipChamp has modified significantly over latest months, and sadly not for the higher. It still permits you to convert an infinite variety of videos, however with one main drawback: all your transformed clips will likely be watermarked unless you pay for a subscription plan. There are also free converters you could download from the Web designed to convert M4A files to mp3 to mp4 converter free windows 10 or other audio file codecs. Since they are free, they usually come with commercials. They also permit customization of output high quality settings and some even include constructed-in participant that allows you to hearken to the audio recordsdata saved on your pc. There could also be some limitations such as the file size of the MP4, and many others. Exterior mp3 to mp4 converter free windows 10 of my suggestion, can't consider a greater manner in CS. Might need to look for a converter of some kind. First, it's worthwhile to verify whether the file performs in RealPlayer. If it plays, you can convert to different file formats count on just a few file codecs that want premium features. If it does not play, then redownload the file and check out again. If the difficulty persists, please uninstall Flash and then reinstall it again, utilizing the Internet Explorer browser. VLC media player performs almost any type of media file, however you may as well use it to simply convert movies to different formats like MP4, helpful if you wish to see the flicks you've got made on cell gadgets. Free obtain the trial version of this program and comply with the steps below to transform MP4 to MP3. You can also use MP4 to WMA converter to convert audio files like MP3, WMA, WAV, OGG, FLAC, M4A, MP2, and so forth. to MP3, WMA, AAC, OGG and WAV audio files in your media participant like iPod, Zune, iPhone, Walkman, iRiver, and many others.

An MP4 file (MPEG-four Half 14) is a container" format. That signifies that as a substitute of storing the code for the file, it stores the info. One massive advantage of this difference is that an MP4 file will be streamed on-line. Note: To report desired clip of supply MP4 video into MP3 audio, you would firstly play supply MP4 video after which start recording it with this Music Recorder for Mac. Output Formats: 3G2, 3GP, AVI, FLV, MKV, MOV, MP4, MPEG1, MPEG2, OGG, WEBM, and WMV among others. Equally, this website wants no the set up of any software. Zamzar is feasible for users to convert MP4 information to any sort of codecs together with MP3. Its personal web site incorporates a whole lot of data so that you can discuss with. Additionally, Zamzar's conversion time is gradual when compared to other on-line audio converter companies. Select the folder by which you need to save the transformed information by clicking the Folder icon and hit Convert to convert the video file to MP3. The process can take something from one to several minutes, depending on the file size and the number of files being transferred. Step 3: Click on Convert all tasks to: to enter the Format window, select AVI and the resolution from the Video tab.

To transform audio streams to MP3 the applying makes use of the latest version of the LAME encoder. This system supports encoding with a constant bit price - CBR, common bitrate - ABR and variable bit price - VBR (based mostly on LAME presets). Step 1 Launch the MP4 to AVI Mac converter and add MP4 recordsdata. First, go to the Foobar2000 web site, obtain the applying and set up it. Don't forget to verify the Converter option is checked. Something I do not like about Free Audio Video Pack is that you simply should know the format of the supply video file earlier than converting it, which is an additional step than most other video converter programs. MP4 is one of the hottest codecs for multimedia storage and distribution. It is a container for processing of broad knowledge range, from textual content and graphics to sound tracks and video. Additionally it is able to assist high-high quality information, reminiscent of 3D-graphics or user's menus. It is supplied in two variations: MPV (for audio) and M4A (for video). A less identified extensionmpr is getting used for ringtones. MP4 to MP3 audio conversion will start routinely after add. This can be a free on-line iPad converter that permit's you change videos for your Apple iPad. You possibly can either add a file or present a URL. After clicking on "Convert file", the iPad conversion will start immediately and you will be able to download the iPad video. Super is a very fashionable and free audio converter. You will be shocked at the long checklist of audio formats it supports. If you have an audio file recorded in a rare format and you need it converted to a more common format, it is best to try out the Super audio converter. Input codecs embody MP3, MP2, WMA, WAV, WV, TTA, RM, RAM, OGG, MPP, M4A, FLAC, MMF, APE, AAC, AMR, and AC3. Convert WAV or MP3, OGG, AAC, WMA and many others stream audio file to MIDI file. MIDI can be used in more participant. and in addition be used in extra games software program. MIDI file is very small. To edit your videos before changing them, click the Edit button on the best within the file info section. A new window with a number of tabs will open. To do the conversion, select the songs to convert then go to File Convert Create AAC model. Earlier iTunes had this feature on the suitable-click menu. We'll preserve this text updated frequently so that you all the time know where to seek out one of the best sites for converting your videos with out these limitations. VideoSmaller is a free service that lets you cut back video file dimension on-line, compress video file size with out dropping high quality. Reduce video file measurement and make video file smaller. Cut back dimension of MP4 videos captured along with your Android or iPhone. Choose the video file and click the button "Add Video". It could take some time relying on the video length. Note: The free trial version of Sidify music converter for Spotify allows us to transform three-minute sample to guage the ultimate end result for each audio file, you'll be able to unlock the time limitation by buying the full model. Step 2: On the following window that seems, select add" and select the video file (MP4) to be transformed. Supported Audio File Formats: MP3, WMA, OGG, AAC, FLAC and WAV. Any Video Converter is a really easy to use free video converter - just choose your source file and output format and go. If you need them, there are lots of superior choices too like batch conversion, file merging, and body cropping.

1 note · View note