#and i was this close to bite the bullet and chose the narrative time in oryx and crake

[evil-ontheinside]

Me, struggling with figuring out the last two paper topics: this is fine. this is totally fine. nothing has ever been more fine

[sunjaesol]

love, between the shadow and the soul

chenford | drabble | post-canon | title: sonnet xvii - pablo neruda

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Look, Tim Bradford did not get attracted to rookies, okay? In all the years he had been a TO, none had grabbed his attention. Not when he and Isabelle were dating, or married, or when she disappeared into the night with a trail of illicit affairs and a shot of heartache for him. Dozens of young women had sat in that car beside him and never ever had he let their femininity distract him. He served his country. He fought wars overseas. He looked Death right in the eye every single day and never blinked.

But then came officer Lucy Chen. He instantly knew the type of cop she’d be the second she turned in her seat, meeting his gaze for the first time, and nervously smiled at him. Nerves were normal, he was aware, but the doe-eyed look and the hopeful grin sold her out. No mystery. Just another young cop that would either slip through the cracks by the exam by tanking their grade due to stress, or she’d become a desk duty cop — one that stayed far from danger, that handled life with a perpetual softer touch ‘cause of her shrink parents.

Nothing wrong with that, Bishop would chastise him. Every cop had its use, she’d add. Sure, that might be true, but Tim didn’t want to babysit an armed toddler waiting for it to cry and call for mom. With just a couple well-placed Tim-tests, she’d be out of his hair in no time and then he could cross his fingers for a better recruit in the following weeks.

Life had the ability to change in a snap though — their funny, yet stern reminder that the universe called the shots, not the gun in his holster, or the rulebook. He got shot. Officer Chen backed him up. Her stubborn, yet brazen, yet honest attitude reeled him in just enough to ignore her little quirks she always joyfully displayed in the shop. Whenever he didn’t nip her ramblings in the bud fast enough, she babbled on and on about her personal life, her personal issues and relationships, like they were best friends (They weren’t! Boots and him never befriended!), like their relationship was anything more than a transactional training period. They got each other’s six. That was it.

But fuck, man. She got under his skin, too.

Lucy wore this… really nice perfume. A lot of female officers had make-up and perfume on, allowed a small sliver of self-expression, and he and Lopez had spend countless hours in a shop together. He was used to it. But somehow, Lucy’s stuck in his nose and didn’t leave. He felt like a creep, thinking about the blend of cardamom and oranges and cherry blossoms mixing with her warm skin, uncontrollable while also wanted. He wanted to fantasise about that fucking perfume of hers, a realisation that took a long time to come to terms with.

That didn’t mean he liked her though — he quickly corrected himself the first time he caught the pattern of behaviour — all it meant was that Lucy had good taste in perfume. Case closed.

So why did he linger whenever her shimmery eyes flicked up at him, why did his breath catch in his throat when her voice dropped to that infuriating sincerity as she uttered words of appraisal? Why his heart go haywire when she recorded all those audio books for him; an out of line gesture and overzealous task for a boot, which would normally result in him laughing their face.

Tim never thought he’d get over Isabelle, nor did he ever believe he’d have his happily ever after with Rachel, but with Lucy he foolishly hoped for more. A more that came from such a stupid and deluded place, probably fostered through months of loneliness and the Pavlovian response to her perfume, but one he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop it. The man was always in control about everything, ran his own tests and went over every possible outcome every day, every hour — and yet he didn’t see her coming. Lucy Chen had been right under his nose and he hadn’t been prepared for the ground to disappear beneath his feet; something that should honestly get him fired. The callousness of his emotions while entertaining the idea of a relationship with his own boot sentenced him straight to P2 or desk duty, or whatever.

Lucy deserved someone better, anyway.

Someone that understood her love for sage and cleansing homes. Someone that liked veggie burgers, chai lattes, karaoke nights and social media lurking. Someone that wouldn’t hesitate for one second to open her door for a teenage girl in need of safety and a little bit of that Chen-love. Someone that wasn’t any of those firemen assholes, but wasn’t Tim either.

He never let his insecurities get the best of him, but after seeing her thrive as a P2 without him, handling undercover stints like a pro, conquering her trauma of being buried alive, it only showcased that she had more bravery in her index finger than some army members had in their entire body, all while staying innately kind. Of course Tim lost his mind over her. Of course he tried shaping officer Barnes to be more like Lucy — more sun and bite and charisma, less army BS. Of course, of course, of course. Even Rosalind, the person he hated most besides Caleb, had him figured out in seconds. He was obvious as hell.

Which was why he had to move stations. Away from the Mid-Wilshire Division and to another. He couldn’t be around her anymore and risk compromising missions or attacks. He didn’t tell Angela the details, though her knowing look said enough, and simply replied that she’d miss him and that she was sure the chief would happily reinstate him any time.

He should’ve known that information leaked through like a wildfire.

The morning of his resignment, uniform neatly folded in his locker, Lucy stopped him in the hallway with the most befuddled expression he’d ever seen.

“What?” he said.

“What the hell,” she exclaimed. “You’re leaving and I have to hear it from Angela? Why’re you…? You love this division. Is everything okay?”

Shouldering past her, he drawled over his shoulder: “Everything’s fine, officer Chen. I’d advise you to put on your uniform and get to roll call.”

“Don’t pull this crap with me,” she bit back, latching onto his arm before he was out of reach. His feet reflexively stopped in place, stupidly waiting on her to finish her train of thought. “Tim, you can tell me if something’s wrong. We’ve been through… way too much for you to act this cold with me.”

He scoffed, feigning mockery, and put his hands on his hips. “We? Chen, I was your TO. That’s it. Get it out of your head it was more.”

Lucy blinked, once, twice, a hurt expression crossing her features, followed by disbelief and a quiet contempt he had become awfully familiar with. Swallowing back the regret, he watched as she pursed her lips and took a step back. “Wow. Okay.”

“Don’t take it personally.”

“Hard not to, officer Bradford,” she muttered. Turning to the locker rooms, she added, “Talk to me when you’re ready to not be an asshole.”

That should’ve been his cue to let her go and resume his trek to sergeant Grey, but a whiff of her fragrance wafted in his face from her dancing curls and any sensical thought was knocked out his head. He wanted to embrace her and burrow his face in her hair, he wanted to hold her with intent, he wanted to kiss the scent off her skin. His feet followed her instead, both fully aware and totally impulsive at once. He chose the excuse of loving a good argument with her to then utter: “I’m not an asshole, Chen. I’m honest.”

“If you’re honest, you’d admit that we’ve been very close friends these past months,” she exhaled, refusing to look him in the eye. He supposed he deserved that. Stopping in front of her locker, she continued with, “Distorting your own reality to fit your macho narrative isn’t healthy. Also, this is the women’s locker room. Out. Now.”

Tim sputtered out a laugh and crossed his arms. “Macho narrative? Please.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed, all air sucked out the room at the intensity of her stare, and Tim felt himself flailing, suddenly wondering why the hell he wanted to turn in his badge when the only place he could have moments with lucy was, well, here. Why was he giving up on this, how silly it might be?

With a resolute voice, she said, “Tim, why are you resigning?”

Nothing in his entire career prepared him for this. Tim Bradford had survived Iraq and Afghanistan, twelve years of the LAPD and counting, a deadly virus, hundreds of bullets taken by the vest and felt the power of death on the blue lips of Lucy in the quiet countryside. Fear got pushed aside. Pride pulled him forward, onwards. But right now, he had to take a leap of faith — the sole thing he never relied on, but Lucy did — and trust she’d be there after the fall.

(He wanted to be that amazing someone for her.)

“Because of you,” he whispered. His fight or flight told him to run for the first time in forever, but he kept his feet glued to the floor.

Her jaw fell slack in shock. “E-excuse me? Me?! I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Exactly,” he spit. “You… you’re…” Tim sighed. “You’re the best, Lucy.”

Faltering, her brows furrowed in utter confusion, a grain of her fury replaced with compassion. He wasn’t sure if that was warranted. All he was trying to do was get it off his chest, confess, before it escalated to insurmountable heights. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Uh…”

“You’re resigning, because I’m the best?” she tried to deduce. “No offense, any other day I’d be dancing right now, but this is just…” She gestured at him. “So weird.”

Tim let out a miserable sigh and ripped the band-aid off. Fuck it. “I’m trying to be honest about my feelings, Lucy.”

She froze. “What?”

“I like you. A lot.” Her wonderstruck expression didn’t make him feel better, so he quickly added: “Which is why I gotta decrease the risk of this exploding in our faces and go.”

“Whoa!” Lucy’s hand wrapped around his, eyes wide and searching, like any empirical data would be found within his green irises, otherwise known as fondness and unresolved tension with every quiet moment they had. “Is this… another test? Are you getting back at me for pranking you?”

He quirked a brow. “You’re a P2 now. Tests are over.”

“Right,” she quipped, catching herself. She let go of him and nervously tucked a lock behind her ear. “Yeah. Okay. And you’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. O-kay. Let me, uh…” the locker swung open “… wrap my head around this.”

“It’s a pretty easy thing to—”

“Tim.”

“Yeah, okay.” He backed off, hating how the control was out of his hands now, how he practically shoved his heart in her grip and her pretty fingers could crush it to dust if she wanted to. “I’ll let you do that.”

Walking out the locker room, he took a deep breath and straightened up his face. Alright. He royally screwed that over. If his army buddies knew, they’d all laugh in his face and tease him for the rest of his life. But at least he told her and got his answer, that a relationship was off the table but that they could save their friendship once he switched divisions and some distance mended his twisted, inside-out heart. Lucy had rocked his world and all she had to do was exist.

“Tim!”

“Wha— wow!”

Her body crashed into him the second he turned around to her beautiful voice, Lucy’s arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him down to her level ‘til all he experienced were her sweet eyes and breathless smile and a kiss. Lucy kissing him, slow and tentative, but it lit his heart aflame and urged him to hold onto her. Her perfume was all-encompassing, nose full of the fragrance and the soft slope of her neck and long, brown hair and fuck, he was kissing Lucy Chen. Except he didn’t care if the entire precinct idly watched by, or if she yanked him out the building on impulse, or anything — ‘cause he was kissing her and it was perfect. Her plump lips were better than he ever imagined.

Her hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, arms and then his hands, squeezing. His forehead pressed against hers, embarrassingly weak in the knees from that incredible kiss that he didn’t dare to stand up straight. Two silly grins broke loose on their faces. He had no clue what to do now, or not do, but he did know he wanted her. He wanted everything.

Lucy decided for him.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

Tim smiled. “Okay.”

[cryoculus]

i know authors have their own autonomy to update whenever they please, but is it ok to ask for some crumbs on the next paradoxical chap? i fell face first in love with your fic that I JUST /NEED/ MORE :'< of course, you don't have to if you don't want! i just wanna let you know that paradoxical has me so undeniably hooked

AHHH well, since you asked nicely,,,,

The late afternoon sun burned steadily across the horizon—golden amber rays splintering through the ominous-looking trees of Wolvendom. Dusk was already rolling in, but the sound of blades meeting in a song of battle could still be heard throughout the Dawn Winery. Anyone who wasn’t from around these parts would have wondered why an uproar like that raged on at this hour, but for the Winery’s residents, sparring sessions between their young masters happened too often to warrant their concern.

“Do you yield?”

Looking up at Diluc’s form towering over him from the ground, Kaeya let his head fall back on the grass. A wry smile made it to his face when he felt his brother’s blade inch away from his neck, and he supposed that he’d take the loss in stride. Being bested in a clash of swords to a man that worked best with claymores was nothing but another wound to lick.

“So cruel,” he muttered, toying with the blades of grass beneath his fingertips, “the Captain of the Cavalry, not even taking it easy on a mere novice. You secretly like these power trips, don’t you?”

“Don’t project yourself onto me,” scoffed Diluc as he sheathed his sword. But Kaeya was keen to notice the proud smirk he’d tried to suppress. “I’m not the one feigning as a beginner just to see the looks on the other knights’ faces when I finally get serious.”

As the redhead helped him to his feet, a hum of laughter slipped from Kaeya’s mouth—smooth as silk and sweet as honey—but Diluc was no such victim to his brother’s frivolities. Never was. Never will be. “Hey now, don’t go slandering me like that.”

“Is it slander if it’s the truth?”

“Ah, you seriously won’t wife anyone up with that attitude.”

Diluc, who seemed uncharacteristically responsive to his quips, looked like he was about to rebut with an equally demeaning response, but the sound of a gentle voice calling out to them from the manor hindered their timely banter. You sauntered over to their usual spot at the edge of the property, two glasses of grape juice placed on top of the tray in your hands. Trailing closely behind was Tunner’s grandson—hiding behind the skirts of your uniform. Ah, what was his name again?

“Noah, you wanted to ask these two about Visions, didn’t you?” Your encouragement was subtle, flashing him a warm grin. “Go on.”

Kaeya shared a quick look with his brother, both unsure of how to present themselves post-spar in front of a curious child. But when Noah finally decided to bite the bullet, he told them, “Do you think I can get a Vision someday? C-Can I help protect the city with you too?” with a face that Kaeya would have likened to an apple. The poor boy was so embarrassed, he looked like he had smoke billowing from his ears, but he opted not to tease altogether. To his relief, Diluc decided to take one for the team.

“You’re only, what, five years old? You shouldn’t be thinking about those things yet.”

The glass was halfway to his lips when Kaeya flashed Diluc an scandalized look. Oh sweet Barbatos, that is not how you talk to kids about their dreams! “Ahaha, what the Captain here means to say is,” Kaeya began swiftly in an attempt at damage control, “if you really are worthy, then the gods have no reason not to give you a Vision. Isn’t that right, Diluc?”

His brother returned his stare pointedly. “But what if he isn’t worthy?”

Kaeya could practically hear your jaw dropping along with his own. In a moment of silent agreement, you met Kaeya’s gaze as Noah stared up at Diluc with a flash of hurt in his eyes. Do something, you mouthed frantically as you attempted to quell an incoming breakdown from the five year-old. Archons dammit—

“If Noah isn’t ‘worthy’ of a Vision, that just means the Archons have other plans for him,” Kaeya offered with a grin, crouching down to pat the boy’s hair. “Your dad, Guy? He’s actually my senior, you know that? And even if he doesn’t have a Vision, he does everything he can to keep the peace in Mondstadt—just like everyone else in the Knights of Favonius. Don’t you think protecting citizens like that is just as good as wielding a Vision?”

Noah’s face seemed to soften at the mention of his father, trailing his gaze to his feet. “I guess… Dad is a great knight. He always makes Grandpa Tunner proud.”

You let out a soft giggle, tucking the tray beneath your arm when the two men have retrieved their drinks. “Doesn’t he make you proud?”

“O-Of course he does! I just wanna have cool powers like the young masters…”

A few moments later, Tunner called Noah back into the manor just in time for supper. Though he still regarded Diluc warily, Kaeya was satisfied with seeing the tension dissipate from the young boy’s shoulders. And that left the three of you, with nothing but the lamp posts scattered throughout the property illuminated the brothers’ makeshift arena.

“Cool powers, huh,” you parroted Noah’s words with a tone dipped in mockery, eyeing your masters with a smirk. “If only cool personalities came with receiving cool powers.”

Kaeya gasped. “Hey! I just saved us from the breakdown of a lifetime, no thanks to Mister More-Money-Than-Empathy here. I would like to be excluded from that narrative.”

The gentleman in question merely finished his drink in silence, leaning on the hilt of his sword from where he’d pitched it into the grass. “All I’m saying is that it’s not good for kids to cling to baseless assumptions like that.”

“Says the one who always has his head in the clouds every time Father praises him,” scoffed Kaeya. “And here I thought you’d relate to the sentiment of making another person proud.”

“Hmph.”

‘Hmph’, really? Did he really not have anything else to say? Kaeya sighed somewhat dramatically, feeling all the hope leave his body then and there. “Again, and this is worth repeating: you seriously won’t wife anyone up with that attitude.”

“H-Hey, straightforwardness is a plus to other ladies, you know.”

The way you’d responded so quickly elicited curious looks from your companions. Diluc seemed genuinely startled but Kaeya had to bite down the snort that threatened to crawl out of his body. You couldn’t be any more obvious. But he supposed it was a good thing his dear brother had always been oblivious to the matters of the heart. “That may be, but he’ll scare them away before they could even have a chance to warm up to him, won’t you Captain?”

“I don’t see why my capacity to marry even matters right now.” Diluc sighed irritably, already unearthing his sword as he directed himself to the manor. “Come on. Father doesn’t like it when we’re late for supper.”

As you all made your way back, Kaeya matched your languid pace, letting his emotionally stunted brother lead on by himself. You opted to keep your silence, and he chose not to intrude. Under the gentle spill of the moonbeams, he was content to see you deep in thought with a flush of red dusting your cheeks.

If Kaeya wished he was the reason behind that look, you didn’t need to know.

[theinquisitivej]

SteamHeart Episodes 9 & 10 Reactions

It’s been a while, but we’re here – this is SteamHeart.

Whether you’re a newcomer or a long-time fan of the alternate history fictional series New Century, there’s a lot to be excited about when it comes to this new entry. SteamHeart is a grand road trip narrative that follows a group of charming and capable characters embarking on a mission of utmost importance. It’s set in the late 19th Century in the Reunified States of America, a country that has just barely come back from the brink of total disintegration after being confronted with the Wendigo, a devastating and savage new species of uncertain origin.

         That’s the set-up, and while there’s a few extra details from the preceding New Century stories that will doubtless come up in SteamHeart as it progresses, that’s all anyone really needs to know before jumping into this new story. It may be the instalment that closes out the first phase of this overarching narrative, but SteamHeart is very considerate towards newcomers. Relistening to the first eight chapters of the audiobook through the podcast, I found that everything you need to know about the setup of this world and the pasts of all the key characters is given to you in a way you can easily digest if it’s all new. Not too much is thrown at you all at once, and the personality of the different characters narrating all of this always comes across, meaning that you not only know who they are straight away, but you also have a compelling way to find out all this information. You will not be at a disadvantage if you’ve never heard of New Century and start listening to SteamHeart.

         But, if you are curious to know more about what this story is, and what the first eight episodes are about, then I have a list of writeups you can check out if you want to take a deep dive into one of the best alternate history fantasy series out there. If appealing characters, the steampunk aesthetic, Westerns, huge anthropomorphic badass purple tigers, nail-biting human drama, survival horror/action against savage and fascinating beasts, or decent writing in general is up your alley, start listening to SteamHeart here, and then read the following articles to get you all caught up on where we were when we last left off on this story.

Since these chapters were originally published in a slightly different order before the definitive edition of Secret Rooms was a thing, the titles of these articles may not reflect how they are currently ordered or titled in SteamHeart.

‘Chapter One: The Fall’, ‘Chapter Two: Sharpshooters’, and ‘Chapter Three: Last Survivor’

‘Chapter Four: The Subtle Engineer’, ‘Chapter Five: The Starlit Eyes’, and ‘Chapter Six: The Shadow in the South’ 

‘Chapter Seven: Return of the Hunter’ and ‘Chapter Eight: Armor’ 

         So, after finishing Let Them Go, reexperiencing Secret Rooms in its best form, we have returned to SteamHeart. We’re back in – Let’s ride.

 Chapter Nine: Eight Dresses

You can listen to the episode here. 

Preparations are underway for the ball that will introduce Team Steam, the new name for the group going on this expedition, to the general public. We get a brief discussion on the stifling world of formal women’s fashion of the time period. Despite the Reunified States being an even harsher place to live than the America of our world in the 19th Century, keeping up appearances is evidently still a necessary duty for anyone dealing in politics or public engagement. There may only be one dress maker left in Washington, but their services are nevertheless still required, so society hasn’t entirely moved past unnecessary decadence. The whole thing seems ridiculous and uncomfortable to Abigail. She reflects on the excessive and dangerous lengths people go to in order to put together a finished ballroom dress, and when she’s pushed into the pink monstrosity and the suffocatingly tight orange dress, this insane world of fashion and Abigail seem incompatible with one another. It’s cathartic to see her rip the orange dress and talk about buying and burning the shop down once she returns from the mission a rich and famous hero. Still, Abigail is aware that the mood has changed after she vents her frustrations, noting that whatever playful levity had been there had been sapped away by her behaviour. There’s no dramatic altercation, but the development of the scene does echo those moments in life where spirits flare up and all of a sudden the easy-going atmosphere of the situation has dissipated without our meaning it to.

         We move on to a scene with some really solid characterisation of Annie and a wonderful moment shared between her and her husband Frank Butler. Annie is still turning over in her head the weight of responsibility that has been put on her by Director Arlington. She has been given a direct order to execute her charge if the situation calls for it, and the possibility of that scenario coming to pass is messing her sense of surety in her own judgement. She has no idea what tiny decision might set off a chain of events that means she has to make that call, and that much anxiety would make anyone susceptible to indecision. It could explain why Annie seemed particularly upset in the previous scene when Abigail was being deliberately difficult with Truth; Annie doesn’t want Abigail to be butting heads, because one day that could reach a point where the two of them will fall out to such an extent that Annie will either not be able to make a clearly thought out decision, not be able to properly protect Abigail, or even be forced to follow her orders and execute her. Annie made a promise to Katherine Holloway to look after James and Abigail, and she must be feeling torn up inside to know that she may one day have to break her promise in the worst possible way.

         But bless Frank, he lifts the situation up in just the right way. Giving Annie the dress and the means for her to make all the changes she actually wants for her very own dress shows just how well he knows her. Frank knows that Annie can sew, he knows what kind of dress she would want, and he knows that having something she can work on and control right now will do her the world of good when so many things feel out of control. The performances of Laureta Sela and Spencer Leeb do hit just the right tone of tenderness and genuine joy that their respective characters feel when they’re in each other’s company. Seeing this perfect moment that these two people who love each other get to enjoy is profoundly touching. Don’t you dare harm them Alex, I know you’re thinking about it. AH- DON’T.

         We transition to another tender moment of a husband and wife enjoying a secluded minute to themselves as Sarah and Thomas Arlington get ready for the ball. Sarah recalls the effort that she, Truth, and Harry had gone through to reconvince Thomas that it makes the most sense for Harry to go on the mission with the others, even if his paternal protectiveness and general wariness of danger on all sides makes this a difficult decision for him. We see Thomas exhibit his characteristic mistrust of the world when he lays Sarah’s bullet proof jacket on the bed, asking her to wear it as a precaution and a favour to him. If Thomas had it his way, he would enclose himself and the people that matter to him in the most airtight, perfect suit of armour he could find. The events of Arlington make it easy to see why he feels this way.

         But Sarah isn’t Thomas, and his gesture presents her with a dilemma that she has to seriously consider. Wearing the armour is a statement, and even if its disguise as a civilian jacket means that very few people will realise she’s making it, she has to decide if she’s comfortable knowing that she chose to make that statement. Sarah wants to trust people – it’s an elemental part of who she is, as represented by Sarah’s remark after her mind goes to the many outfits in her wardrobe, as she says “not all of which went with this jacket of mine”. This jacket is a part of her wardrobe, but it’s not compatible with every outfit she would normally wear, and I would argue it’s not entirely compatible with who she wants to be. This time, she resigns herself to wearing the armour, but she resolves with a strong determination that she will step outside without armour another day. It’s a small decision that provokes an introspective moment that explores meaningful questions of trust and our unspoken interactions with the rest of the world. And yes, it does have a profound resonance for those who have a strong attachment to Arlington.

         The epilogue of this episode tells us that Truth fantasised as a child that she would grow up to be Queen of America. It’s a cute fact about Truth’s childhood that provides a small glimpse into a more playful side of her character. It also provides context as to why she has such a head for politics and public engagement. She’s played with the idea of leading a nation her whole life, and the fact that the childhood version of her wanted to be Queen of a monarch-less country is indicative of a romanticised vision of what a leader could and should be. It’s a surprising thing to learn about the pragmatic, more calculating version of her that we know.

 Chapter Ten: The April Ball

You can listen to the episode here.

I love those episodes or chapters of ongoing fiction where we get to see the main characters go to a party. Cutting between different individuals or pairings to see how the different personalities are handling themselves in an environment we don’t usually get to see them in can be a source of memorable humour and especially enjoyable character moments. It can also lead to some meaningful moments of introspection that can come out in a unique way; sometimes there are those strange, lucid moments that sneak up on you when you’re at a party where you suddenly become very reflective or melancholy. It doesn’t always have to be a party either. ‘The Ember Island Players’ is one of my favourite episodes of Avatar: The Last Airbender because it’s a respite for the main group right before things are going to get more intense than they ever have before, so it’s a chance for both the characters and the writers of the show to have a little bit of fun before they close out their journey. I bring this up because I get a little bit of a sense of that with ‘Chapter Ten: The April Ball’, especially due to its name which suggests the ball is a spring-time event, a season of vitality and optimism when things are on the up and up. Team Steam is going to be heading out on a grand journey that will be full of perils, so it makes sense both within the context of the story and from a structural point of view to have this ball where we get to see our characters at a party.

         Having said that, it’s not a fun filled jubilant occasion for everyone. Raven’s opening narration catches new readers up on the current state of class divisions in the Reunified States, going over how, when the Wendigo was at the doors of the people of America, high social standings didn’t do much to help you out, and they certainly didn’t give you a lot of skills to fall back on when you were part of little pockets of survivors and had to find a way to contribute to the group. A large percentage of the upper class didn’t make it. Even so, this ball has brought out the last remnants of that world, along with those who have risen up and established themselves at the top of the ladder in this new society. The atmosphere is hardly convivial, and several members of the main cast don’t appear to be at ease in this setting. Abigail feels out of place and sees James, who looks completely right for the occasion, as her lifeline, but is denied this when they’re separated. Harry finds that there’s a little too much information to take in, managing to stay afloat when James, sympathetic to her feelings in this situation, walks her through the steps (both for the dance and how to get by when surrounded by this many people). Most heart-breaking of all, Jeremy and Donald have been partnered with other people and, for all-intents-and-purposes, have been forbidden by Truth to dance together or show any signs that they’re a couple. It’s painful to hear about Jeremy putting on a smile while barely keeping back his tears. The injustice of society working against people being with who they love if it doesn’t fit their standards is eloquently summarised by Harry’s remark “it’s such a shame they won’t let us dance with who we really want to”. A perfect summation of denied love. Even Truth, who has an eye for navigating her way through these parties, addresses the fact that this is not a place for our characters to relax. She briefs the other female members of the group on their approach, telling them that they’re here to make connections and work on making the best impression of the group and the mission they can – “There’s a time for fun and games, and it’s not at parties”. The mood of this episode is playful at times, and there are moments where you’re happy for this chance to rest before things get dangerous. But it also shows why these settings can be a source of anxiety, and why putting on a show for the world can be soul crushing.

         One of the most intense scenes at the ball is when Abigail dances with Arlington. Hearing her thoughts as she struggles to get a read on him shows how striking the effect he has on people is. He has a quiet fire that is frightening and magnetic all at once. Abigail even confesses that she sees many of the qualities in him that attracts her to James. The two men do share a calculating disposition that values logic which seems cold at first, but it hides a passionate resolve that flares to the surface when it counts. Arlington moves with a stoic surety that compels Abigail to follow his steps as they dance, which acts as a poetic metaphor of his approach to politics and his efforts to lead this country. For the time being, Arlington is leading this dance, and the country, in a way which seems correct and will likely get them through to the end of all this. But he and Abigail talk of the desire to deliberately put a foot wrong, just to see what will happen. Arlington is conducting himself exactly as he knows he should, but there is a part of him that wants so badly to kick the table over and meet the people he sees as enemies on his terms. When Abigail asks how long they can continue this dance, he answers “as long as we can” with sad, tired resignation. I find Arlington to be one of the most fascinating characters in all of New Century.

         There are so many pieces of great writing and enjoyable character moments peppered throughout this chapter, so to finish off I’ll quickly go through some of my favourite bits. Abigail noticing Thomas and Sarah Arlington’s armoured jackets and wondering what they expect to happen and feeling worried is a decent payoff to the end of the previous episode when Sarah deliberated over whether to wear the jacket or not, showing us that she was right to think about the message such an action conveys. The footman announcing each of the main characters and his occasional embarrassment and frustration at being interrupted is a fun to watch, and Abigail’s commentary on how each person is received and how they conduct themselves speaks volumes of their different characters. When James and Abigail share a mischievous laugh together afterwards, it’s absolutely adorable. I ship it. Later, Abigail meets the blusterous buffoon Dutch Van Tassel, and she describes him as having “a great big bushy beard”. Now, this might just be a result of having watched this film a dozen or so too many times, but hearing that statement makes me wonder if that’s intended to be a reference to Hot Fuzz. Abigail gets bailed out from her conversation with Dutch by- oh sweet, it’s Li! She was a cool addition to the cast in Arlington, and I’m definitely glad to have her quiet, steely temperament back. Annie and Frank have the good fortune to be able to dance with the person they love and openly display that connection to the world, but they’re also compassionate enough to help those who aren’t having as great a time. I’m glad that Annie helps Jeremy get close to Donald, and when Frank speculates that Harry has feelings for James it did make sense, as I had similar suspicions. I continue to enjoy Frank and Harry’s relationship, as he’s a good friend to her and knows just how to word things. I’m pleased that Abigail gets to meet Nathanial Curtis and that she gets along with him. He’s an accomplished and immensely respectable man who nevertheless has the humble nobility of an old friendly soldier, so it’s no wonder that Abigail likes him immediately, especially with her father being a soldier as well. The episode and the party conclude with Abigail stepping outside for some air and meeting Raven, and his honesty is refreshing, even if his attitude means he isn’t the smoothest conversationalist. The instruments finish playing their music, and the applause signals the end of the episode.

I do love a party.

         Chapter Ten’s epilogue tells us that Thomas and Sarah have twelve days left, referring to the closing events of Arlington. But I have to wonder whether the wording means that the significance of the statement is that they each have twelve days left, or that they have twelve days left of being together. Either way, it’s an immensely sad thought.

[shitsuji-hcs]

Elizabeth Midford, Dull Swords: Part 1, Building a fight scene

Despite Black Butler’s massive popularity as an anime and manga, by film standards the movie falls far beyond what the fandom would have expected. The first live action was received with heavy negative criticism and it would seem that ‘Book of the Atlantic’ fell somewhat in the same way. In less than two weeks of the Japanese release and the three days of US release the film earned less than $5,000,000 combined - in comparison, the highest grossing film of the year, ‘Detective Conan: Crimson Love Letter’ earned $11,749,652 alone on its opening weekend.

These two movies can’t be compared, due to the huge differences in the plots and narratives yet… Black Butler’s production team could learn a thing or two. The greatest fault in ‘BOTA’ was its “so-so” action, that was also said to be a fault in the previous movie. Knowing this, I’d like to analyse Elizabeth’s famous fight scene and look into why the series has been known for poor action scenes despite the great action depicted in the manga.

Long post so the rest is under the cut.

For anyone who would like to watch the fight as they read the analysis, the full fight is linked here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5LfH_MLe7jI

An important thing to know about writing fight scenes is that a fight alone is not interesting. It is the weight behind that fight that makes things interesting. Superheroes fight to save the world and villains fight to accomplish their own goals. The start of this fight is not interesting because it begins with Grell wanting to fight simply for the sake of fighting - this is just Grell’s character. We know that one of her main roles in the series is to block Ciel and Sebastian from attaining their goal. Our protagonists, Ciel, Sebastian and Elizabeth want to avoid this fight instead, giving us more of a reason as to why this fight should be done with as soon as possible. This fight does however have one purpose - leading up to Elizabeth’s exposition as the swordswoman she is.

When creating a fight scene, interest is added by raising the stakes - the more danger there is of losing something, the greater the emotional payoff and tension - each fight should be a gamble that makes us feel that the characters we root for have to win. Even if they’re bound to lose, the chance that they should win should at least tempt us. Toboso changes this with how she portrays Sebastian.

Usually when Sebastian engages in battle, we expect him to win every fight, since he’s put forward as this amazing force that always succeeds his tasks. Fighting against two reapers should mean nothing to him. Yet, the extra baggage of protecting two children raises a problem. By separating them, Toboso then creates the possibility of “only one can survive” - Sebastian would choose Ciel in priority over Elizabeth. In this instance, we start to fear that Elizabeth is in danger.

Given that Ciel would “do anything to protect his fiancee”, we trust that he’ll be able to reach out to Elizabeth in her time of need. With an injured leg, Ciel is then rendered useless in his state. The fact that Ciel is pictured as further away from Elizabeth in the manga, shown by how Ciel is not in the frame, highlights her vulnerability against the Dolls that are drawn enormously in comparison to her size. Not only is he unable to protect her, but he’s unable to protect himself if Sebastian can’t shake the reapers off of him. 

In the film, Ciel is pictured relatively close to her, removing this aspect of fear for Elizabeth’s state. The film makes it seem as if either one of them was able to stand, they could make it to each other in less than a few seconds. Since the idea that Ciel will always protect Elizabeth has been referred to in the film numerous times already, we believe that if she makes it to him he’ll do what he can to protect her. While one may argue that this puts Ciel in danger as well, Sebastian could come in soon and save the both of them - the distance between them in the manga is important in exaggerating that the matter of a second could literally result in Elizabeth’s death. 

The manga shows her sluggish movements to get up while Ciel calls out to her quite well, since the distance between her and the Bizarre Dolls is much closer to make it seem as if they’re closer to grabbing her than they really are. 

The fact that when the camera cuts to Elizabeth as she’s already propped herself up removes the aspect of vulnerability that’s shown in the manga. The way that the film only shows their legs in the foreground does play with the whole compositing of the scene, making them look larger than they are, but it ends up losing the sense of urgency that the manga had as they seem close enough to touch her.

In the manga, we don’t see Ciel whip out his gun and cut straight to him shooting. This already is far more effective than how in the film we see him pull the gun out (rather slowly considering the situation) and then shoot. This panel is effective as it shows the speed of his fire - he wants to kill them as fast as he can and the futility in it shows it. The film only shows the first shot then switches to focus on Ciel shooting, rather than the targets he’s aiming at. To improve this, perhaps a shot showing his perspective as he watches Elizabeth try to scramble away with his shaking hands in the frame as shoots would be more effective.

Not to mention that as the first Doll lunges to bite Elizabeth, for some reason it gets launched sideways instead of being fired back by the force of Ciel’s gun. If you slow it down enough it even looks as if the image of the Doll being shot was just dragged across the screen instead of actually flopping from the force of the shot. 

The next image of Ciel shooting is relatively basic. The team might as well have just made a gif of Ciel shooting those three shots or so and it could look the same. There lacks any variation in those few moments that we see. Comparatively, the single image in the manga of Ciel shooting at the horde without showing the Dolls being killed right before Elizabeth is much more effective. It’s made evident in the manga that this boy is in full panic as we see the large group towering over Elizabeth, once again with the distance exaggerated as much smaller to create the sense of danger. The open space around Ciel in the film also takes away from how much tension there was in the manga - while you can argue that this shows his isolation, having this sort of shot in this perspective loses the image of danger that threatens Elizabeth. 

In the manga, we truly see Ciel’s terror as he realises that his gun is out of bullets because of the closeness of the panel and the tightness of the frame which follows the positioning of his arms. Not to mention how the gun is so centred in the panel, showing how it’s the centre of his focus.

Ciel’s expression in the manga shows fear by a wider mouth and the more dramatic shading over his face. In the film, his expression is much more frustrated. This choice is obviously understandable. It’s a pretty shot and all, but it does take away from some of the drama because the position is far less dynamic.

The sequence of events leading up to Elizabeth’s reveal changes, which arguably makes it less effective. In the manga, switching perspectives between Sebastian, Elizabeth and Ciel adds to the chaotic nature of this scene. Everyone has different opponents but they all need to survive. Seeing Sebastian dash towards Elizabeth emphasises that even he might not be able to save her, shown by how close the Dolls hands are to Elizabeth. The manga is able to use action lines to show and highlight the focal point of each panel. Such a thing would be harder to animate. Though used heavily in sports anime like ‘Haikyuu’ and ‘Ballroom e Youkoso’, in a setting such a ‘Black Butler’ which tries for elegant and refined style, rather than artistic interpretation, these sort of lines don’t fit as well.

Arguably, the most important part for this build-up is how Ciel reacts to believing his fiancee is about to die before his eyes. The order of focus is especially important in this. In the film, Elizabeth starts to talk, turning around just as the feet of the Dolls come into frame. This is a relatively good shot. Here, the director chose to show Elizabeth’s vulnerability more by emphasising the height disadvantage. On the floor, she lacks the escape means. In the manga, she may be sitting down, but the danger is shown in the form of hands. What the film shows is the immense force that is about to strike down on top of her. The manga does this as well, but I would give this a pass.

On the other hand, the manga highlights the panic that the both of them feel in this situation. In the film, Elizabeth is already smiling as she talks to Ciel, and then we see Ciel’s reaction, rather than how Ciel in the manga realises first and then we see Elizabeth’s struggle to hold in her tears. The film chose to show Elizabeth in a state of acceptance, which again is very powerful, making the audience think that she’s resigned to her death.

Ciel’s expression in the film is much more akin to anger, a frustration in how he’s unable to save her. The manga’s choice shows Ciel in absolute fear - the lack of colour serves to dramatise this as well. Black Butler is known for beautiful eyes and just zooming in on the empty look of Ciel’s eyes shows the rawness of his fear. His gentler brow also serves towards showing more fear than the sharper brow in the film. This, coupled with the echoed gasp and sound effect, adds to the hollow feeling that Ciel would feel upon realising the possible fate of Elizabeth.

Once again, the lack of colour in the manga adds to the dramatic panic felt in this scene. During the entire scene, Elizabeth’s blazer was coloured black, as well as her eyelashes - pretty much everything has been turned to greys. As she cries over how she can’t be cute anymore, the softened lines serve to show her in the last angelic moment that she may well have. At this point, it’s hard to tell what are water droplets and what are tears as they run down her face. Her innocence is also highlighted by lighter eyes and shaded cheeks and lips in contrast to her tangled mess of hair. This is the last image that Ciel may see of his beautiful feminine fiancee.

I have less complaints about the image of her in the film. The camera panning up to her crying face emphasises how delicate she is while also keeping the Dolls in the background to keep their threat important. There’s far less detail and her eyes are drawn wonkily, but at least they tried to make this dramatic with the camera movement.

Sebastian finally manages to escape Ronald with simple movements, but that can be forgiven since he isn’t the focal point. Instead, we have the image of him running to save Elizabeth, but all that can be seen of her is her dress between the legs of the Dolls. At this point, the film tells you that it’s all over for her. 

I don’t want to pick up on this, but the way that Sebastian runs here makes me think of the spider gif. It really is a downer to what is a good scene but it had to be said. If this gif doesn’t work when I post it I’ll start crying.

Another flaw I’d point out would be Ciel’s final reach out to Elizabeth. The way this is done in the film feels far too smooth, rather than carnal and desperate - how one would normally react in absolute panic. It’s more like a dramatic flourish that someone would do in a high school play. Of course, his expression of panic is still great. Wide mouthed in a choked/silent scream. If this was animated with a greater sense of urgency, there’d be less of a problem here.

Frame tightness is especially important for the drama of this scene - the manga frame is tight and barely shows Ciel’s full face. This can symbolise how trapped he feels in not being able to do anything. His under eyes are also heavily shaded to show his distress. The open spaces and use of the background feels inappropriate for the close seriousness of the situation. The manga also showcases a look with greater desperation as we see how things are from Elizabeth’s eyes - her fiance screaming for her is the last image that she’d see.

The fact that we see Elizabeth once again as the shadows of the Dolls close up on her is a really good directorial choice. Here the camera’s closeness to Elizabeth’s form works. It almost feels as if she’s saying goodbye to her audience instead, the tighter frame making us form a more personal connection with her, making up for the lesser emotion that Ciel was drawn in beforehand. In opposition to the reactions of Ciel and Sebastian who see that they’re too late in the manga, having Elizabeth listen as her fiancee screams her name in darkness is really well done. 

The blackness that fills the screen is just as effective as in the manga to make one think that Elizabeth’s finally been killed. Letting this ring for two seconds gives the audience a chance to think that a death really has occurred. For an audience member who hasn’t read the manga, this would be effective enough to make them think for a second that she’s gone. These few seconds are good and there’s little I would change and I’m glad that the director actually chose to do this. This blackness serves as an equivalent to the page turn and makes it even more surprising when we realise what happens next.

As pernickety as this analysis has gotten over the build up, it’s important to look at it because this is how fights are built up. You don’t start out in any martial arts match with the massive axe kicks and what not. Tension is built up in every fight, whether an official match or in a fictional setting, by the fighters raring up to the bigger scenes instead of coming out with them straight away. Toboso wrote the build up to Elizabeth’s revelation well, which is why this had so much of a reaction for Japanese readers - far greater than Grell’s reintroduction.

Now, despite all that we’ve looked in to so far… we’ve only scraped six or so pages - 30 seconds if you want to talk about it in the films terms. You can see clearly that there are some great points that the film has done well to adapt the manga. It can also be seen that there are some areas of the film which are “so-so” because it lacks the same depth that the manga does.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this scene alone. I will be getting to the rest of the fight direction, where I believe things start to decline, but I can’t give too much away right now.

[whalebonetales]

"Corvo."

The single word existed in a vacuum, without echo or life. It carried a crushing weight that forced the assassin into a dull, dreary awareness, where his sole confidant was a lamp post spilling its sallow light over broken cobblestones. He started, and his vision lurched - the already disjointed landscape of the Void shifted its many islands tauntingly. Fear gripped him at once; did he die?

The events of the evening unspooled in a scattered mess. He recalled the greeting from Lord Pendleton handing him a glass, another over-imaginative drawing from Emily, Havelock and Martin exchanging loaded glances. He recalled the Gristol cider's bitter taste growing ever sharper, almost citrus-like in its bite, and he knew his fate in that moment. He knew that, if he exclaimed his realization, Havelock would have put a bullet in his back without question; their plan would persevere no matter Corvo's machinations. They cared not if they spilled his blood in front of Emily. It was, he thought, all he could do to save face and stumble up to his room feigning ignorance.

And now, the Void. And now, the Outsider. And now, the lecture over his life.

Sighing through his nose, the assassin waited for the summary of all his failures and accomplishments.

But no such lecture arrived. "Corvo," came the sound again, dead syllables raining down on him. "Here you are, poisoned by your own allies and left for dead on a raft. From the murder of your Empress to the death of the High Overseer, many would look on your murder as fortunate. Even now, your erstwhile associates are moving on the capital to install Emily as the new empress. Yet here you are, resigned to death. Are you truly willing to end your narrative here, Corvo? With Emily in the clutches of the men who betrayed you?"

Do I have a choice? The Serkonan looked to where the Outsider was to find nothing but a whale in the distance. There it hung motionless, frozen in time against scenes a thousand years prior and a thousand years further. It unsettled him, as did the voice that perpetually sounded in his own mind.

"You wear my mark on your hand and yet you ask me if you have a choice." While he never laughed, Corvo sensed levity in the tone. He felt a presence near his side, where the Outsider knelt above him. "That depends. How much are you willing to give for that second chance at life?

"Many have beseeched me for this very choice, Corvo. People the world over spent their life's fortunes on whale bone charms and runes in hopes of gaining my favors. They carved their wishes into rats and boiled them alive, hoping the bloated carcasses would deliver their messages unto me in the Void." His hands folded over one knee, and he pushed himself up - a strange choice of gesture that looked too deliberate to Corvo. "But maybe you're not the type of man to take a second chance at mortality. Maybe you're content to let the rest of fate unspool itself in the hands of Havelock, Martin, and Pendleton. Emily may survive on her own. She is a lot like you, after all."

Struggling, Corvo sat upright. He reached for the back of the Outsider's pant leg, fully expecting his fingers to meet dead air, and yet he caught the fabric. At first, the words stuck in his throat, his abject surprise at his simple luck (was it luck? Was it choice? Whose choice?) forcing his throat to stall. "Wait," he managed at last. "Don't go."

The Outsider hardly turned his head before the very form of him dissolved in an unearthly manner. The fabric slipped from his fingers, draining from his grasp like water. A thin wetness remained on his fingertips. Panic set in past the throbbing numbness wrought by the poison. "Wait!" His strength ebbed and flowed with each pulse, as death worked its way through him. He wondered, then - how long did he have before he became a part of this place? How long before all of his efforts meant nothing for his country? Soon he would die a dishonored man, afloat on a raft to the Flooded District. Soon he would know a marred reputation in history forevermore, as the murderer of the Empress - the bane of Dunwall.

"I'll do anything you want - I'll rewrite history, or fell the Abbey, or even spread your name from Morley to Serkonos! Whatever it is you're after, just name it!" He struggled to his feet only to hear his words echo back to him from the infinite wastes of the Void. The Outsider left, his back forever turned --

"I find your offers wanting, Corvo. I don't care to be known, nor do I find any preoccupation with the Abbey or its thousand grudges against me. Rewriting history falls beyond your boundary.

"Was I wrong to have Marked you?"

Incensed, Corvo wrenched around to seize the throat of the Outsider and felt his fingers close over gentle heat and solid muscle. He felt like no wraith, no apparition sent to haunt his dreams - and this scared him all the more that he already met his fate. Now the Outsider toyed with him and taunted him for all the choices he could no longer make now that he was excised from the world. He squeezed with the strength that he still possessed, and found in his wake a dead smile to match dead eyes. Corvo reached with both hands now, and his grip turned white around the neck of Daud's Black-eyed Bastard. On his forearms settled a grip disturbingly weak, almost boyish in its lack of power and --

Corvo realized, then, the folly of choking out that which does not breathe.

"I'm waiting, Corvo." His lips moved, yet the assassin felt no whisper of air beneath his fingers. Nothing moved, not even a pulse. "Every night you spent since your escape from Dunwall Tower, I visited you. I questioned you, and I appraised you for the choices you would make. I gave you just enough insight into the consequences to pressure your decisions. Your actions were your own, yet it was my presence that dogged you through the whole of it - that afforded you the power to overcome your adversaries. It must have incensed you - knowing that, all this time, you had me to thank for the possibility of choice.

"Now, at last, you have me in your grip. What will you do?" The Outsider offered no further resistance. Where they stood now, Corvo could just as easily snap his neck as any mortal man that crossed his path. This creature, this otherworldly being, the source of his power felt all too human in his grip.

So Corvo pressed on, forcing the god back through his own realm. The scattered streets of Dunwall unraveled into a setting far older, far bleaker than any he encountered in the plague-infested districts. No frozen weepers or static mountains of corpses littered the area, yet he tasted a sharp sense of sorrow on the air. This ageless place possessed a feeling, where the Void was otherwise bereft of emotion. Yet Corvo only noticed the change of scenery when the Outsider's legs pressed up against a low wall, and Corvo halted in his advance.

Here, they were encircled by hundreds of timestopped men, all robed, all cheering soundlessly with fists forever raised. While his hands tired with the effects of the poison, Corvo never slackened his grip. The low wall, he found, was an altar. He wasted no time in forcing the Outsider down upon its sturdy surface. "Take me back to Dunwall," he commanded as he leaned his weight into his attack.

"We're --"

"I didn't ask where we are. I said, take me back. You owe me that much." He realized, then, the folly of trying to choke out that which did not breathe. He released his grip, though he did not back away from the fallen form of the Void's god.

And the Outsider made no effort to right himself. He stretched his arms far above his head, exacerbating his vulnerability. "We're in one of the oldest parts of the Void. This was where I died." He looked toward the knife that Corvo could not see. "They cut my throat in a ritual that would cast me into the Void. Four thousand years of history changed because of them. You would throw all that away to break my neck? You fascinate me."

Corvo could think of nothing else to do. He had nothing to offer a god that the rest of the world could not - his connections, his strengths, his weaknesses all meant nothing in the view of four thousand years of watching the world turn. But the Outsider was once a man, which meant he could still be a man, even as he stared out at Corvo through nothing but darkness. He had Piero for philosophical debate, Daud for serial murder, and doubtless many more to sate every part of his twisted psyche. So what could Corvo trade in turn for another day in Dunwall?

Surrounded by sightless eyes, with the Outsider prostrate before him, Corvo could think of no other option. Desperation fueled him as he reached for the deceptively simple coat and wrenched it upward. He half-expected to find nothing but blackness beneath, but there lay taut skin over ribs swollen with breath. His fingers traced ridges and valleys as he forced the fabric upward until he found the basins of the Outsider's arms. Corvo leaned against him now, trusting his weight to the Outsider, and found him just as solid as before. Still, it bothered him. He shook it off to free the other man from his coat, and cast it upon the nearest pair of eyes.

"Does everything change for you when you can feel me watching?" The irony was palpable in his tone.

"You tell me." Corvo knew acutely that the Outsider surveyed him now, that those depthless black eyes lighted upon him with the most pronounced interest yet. He knew this, and chose not to look. Instead, he leaned down against the surprising warmth of the other man, and while swallowing his own apprehension for the act, pressed lips to the Outsider's throat. He felt fear in doing so, which fueled a misbegotten thrill. Ignoring it, he pressed a hand to the underside of the Outsider's jaw and pressed for more room. Teeth grazed over territories paved by his lips, and he felt a peculiar heat in his left hand as he worked. A shudder passed through the god's skin and he felt the rumble of breath, as if he was beginning to recall how it felt to be human once.

There came no response, but the body beneath him slowly woke to life. A hand clasped over his wrist, and he felt the Outsider's thumb forge a gentle path from wrist to palm. Breath wetted the fingers that strayed too close to his mouth, and Corvo felt the Outsider's tongue upon his fingertips. Again, he pushed the welling revolt from his mind. There wasn't a place for regret and disgust when his life hinged on making a favorable impression. So when he felt the body beneath him rock against his form, he made no mention of it.

And he wanted to ignore it entirely for the moment, but the Outsider had other plans - namely, the possession of his marked arm. His hand moved beyond his volition, pathing downward across skin to the lip of the other man's pants. Corvo loosed himself from his ministrations for a moment. "I get the hint." As he spoke, gooseflesh roused on slick skin. Swaths of red marked the areas that Corvo traversed.

He knew then, perhaps through the Outsider supplanting his wants into Corvo's thoughts, to move further. He moved from neck, where his teeth seized the handlebar that was the Outsider's collar. His left hand struggled for dexterity with the unseen buttons until assisted by his otherworldly companion. In a couple sparing seconds, their clothing simply melted away.

Now Corvo was faced with the brunt of his choice - lying out stark naked upon the stone altar, animate beneath the frozen descent of the knife. He knew a surfeit of choices concerning the ends of men's lives - powerful men with world-changing agendas - yet he was never faced with a duty quite so otherworldly as this. The Outsider's affairs were always unknown to him, and he preferred their contact minimal at best. Yet here, he faced a choice of life by pleasing something that he wasn't sure was human. There wasn't time to prepare himself for this.

Corvo caught up a leg in his roughened grip, and hoisted the limb high until the back of the Outsider's knee met with his shoulder. The joints fit unnervingly well against each other, and briefly Corvo speculated that the other man was able to manipulate his own anatomy to some extent.

"Would you settle for serendipity?" A smirk, and those waiting eyes fell upon him again.

The heel of his unmarked hand braced against inner thigh, and forcing the other man's legs open proved easy. Corvo even felt the strain of muscles as they reached the end of their flexibility. Waiting beneath him was the Outsider's cock, remarkably not crooked as the turns of phrase suggested. Perhaps he would have made comment of it if his current predicament hadn't left them as strange bedfellows. But the Outsider sensed the hesitation, and again his left hand began to drift from the Outsider's knee to upper thigh to the crown of his cock, where thumb pressed firmly into wanton flesh.

"Fine," Corvo muttered, reclaiming control of his hand. He seized his own cock, and found it already slick, though he knew not how or why. He learned to stop questioning such matters here. His fingers grew wet with the contact, enough so that he could press them inside his proposed bedmate without great resistance. He knew not what to expect in tactile response, but the smooth, long undulation of heat ranked not among forecasted outcomes. He thought little of it, forcing himself to identify a fragmented building in the distance. A second finger joined the first, then a third. He pressed skyward and heard a stuttered gasp from the Outsider.

Perhaps there was reassurance in that he was human enough to feel such a move.

As his three fingers swept against smooth muscle, the Outsider arched slowly in response. The silence between them felt laden with unsaid expectations and bated observance. He pressed with greater vigor against the other man's prostate and earned a strained gasp of it. If nothing else, this arrangement offered Corvo the opportunity for revenge. Such a thought spurred him from toeing his choice tepidly.

But when he pressed himself into the Outsider, he felt a tight pressure on him unlike anything experienced with women in his life. He ventured into a trap where the Outsider constricted him tantalizingly, and Corvo stopped himself to catch his breath. Pressure built up alarmingly quickly at the base of his spine. "Loosen up."

The Outsider, conversely, looked to thrive on the pain. "Having trouble, Corvo?"He leered down at the other man from his place on the altar.

"If you don't cut me some slack, I'll cum." The statement earned enough of a response that he could move again. Surprisingly, no mocking comment or bored analysis came with his suggestion. Corvo resumed a slow, rocking motion to test his boundaries and found the Outsider almost bored beneath him. But the Outsider proved patient, and Corvo knew this for all the hours spent mapping guard patrols when he felt black eyes upon him. They never abated even when Corvo never moved for half a day, so why should that patience fail him here?

As Corvo himself loosened up, he drew deeper into his otherworldly partner. His hands framed the bony ribcage stretched taut before him, and the Outsider's hands lay unrestrained above his head. Seizing on the idea he had before, Corvo trusted his weight more fully to his partner in a subtle shift, then framed his unmarked hand around the man's throat. The skin still felt warm, smick. He very nearly gleaned a pulse beneath his flesh. Again he squeezed, and this time he felt a response in how the Outsider tightened up around him, choking him in return, stealing his breath away --

Corvo jerked the black-eyed man upright by the neck, and in a practiced rearrangement, shifted himself atop the altar while forcing the Outsider beyond its bounds, and there the other man arched backward in a rare display of vulnerability. Both the Outsider's hands splayed against the slate-covered ground to maintain balance in the demanding position, and every muscle in his body grew taut with careful balance. Corvo shuddered responsively, again fighting back against a tepid climax. With the Outsider's legs now arranged around his lap, Corvo seized one of his thighs in a long, raking grip, His marked hand palmed against the flat of the Outsider's stomach, forcing him to hold the position while taking repeated, jolting thrusts.

No matter the strength in which Corvo railed against his partner's hips, the Outsider never complained of the punishment. And it came to be that Corvo pushed himself too far to regain his composure. In a hoarse moan, he forced himself deep into his god-lover as all muscles seized, and gritted his teeth against the nigh insurmountable pleasure of release. Red rutted nail marks turned deep red with new beads of blood on the Outsider's thigh. His flattened palm curled into a fist against the other man's stomach, and in their wake lay five distinct marks as arrows pointing to the very center of him. Slowly Corvo's muscles slackened, and heavy thrusts dulled to a languid rocking while the last of his orgasm petered out.

But the Outsider was patient, and while he remained tantalizingly near to cumming himself, he wondered with interest how Corvo might address the lack of release on his end. He needn't wait long, however, as a rough hand closed over his waiting cock and set to work before Corvo even separated himself from the black-eyed man. For this, he almost smiled.

"The choices you make are quite interesting, Corvo." He spoke in the same, carefully-measured tones as with their first meeting. With each stroke, he felt the revival of long-forgotten habits from more human times, when he knew blood and pain and fear. These specters were dangerous, he knew, but he welcomed them regardless. As he opened himself to the idea, he drew long breaths into his dead husk. With each passing respiration, he felt more a visitor in his own Void. The deep, burgeoning want grew as Corvo reached a more vigorous pace, and soon the Outsider felt almost human.

While the Outsider tried to sit up during Corvo's ministrations, the heel of a hand met the bottom of his ribs with brute force at every occasion. Were he a lesser man, were he a man at all, the Outsider felt certain that the force alone would've shattered his floating ribs. At this, he did finally smile. Soon his breaths quickened, his muscles tightened, and he flexed his hands against the ground in wait for the inevitable.

And for the Outsider, the thought of climax remained a question in his mind. Did he still retain that much humanity?

He did not wait long for his answer; Corvo's vigor was matched only by his stamina, and in minutes, release seized the Outsider's body in three undulating strokes. Only shuddering breaths left his body, accompanied by fragments of wrung-out, tightened fragments of voice. It was then, perhaps, that Corvo realized what whale oil resembled most. As the thick strands of cum cooled against the black-eyed man's skin, their opalescent gleam shined at him tauntingly. Another breath passed between them and they vanished altogether - along with the Outsider.

Before Corvo found time to react, a voice sounded behind him. He turned to find the patron god of the Void floating as he often did, entirely clothed and unruffled by the encounter. The barest hint of smirk remained in his features. "Do what you will with your second chance. I'll be watching." Before he quite finished his last syllable, the whole of the Void vanished in a whorling, sucking vortex.

And as soon as his disorientation ended, Corvo opened his eyes to two vapor masks belonging to the whalers - and cursed his luck.

He cursed the Outsider's crooked cock, too.

[computerguideworld-blog]

Cellarmasters responds to shifting retail with AI technology

New Post has been published on https://computerguideto.com/awesome/cellarmasters-responds-to-shifting-retail-with-ai-technology/

Cellarmasters responds to shifting retail with AI technology

As an early adopter of Albert marketing AI technology in Australia, Cellarmasters and its clients are reaping the rewards.

The changing face of retail

Macro industry factors are driving rapid and unrelenting change in the retail industry. This is highlighted weekly with reports of high-profile brands such as Construct a Bear and Shoes of Prey shutting up store. This switching is having an impact on both bricks-and-mortar and online retailers.

As industries dive into the narrative their data is say, one thing is clear- the digital client journey is anything but simple. It is increasingly complex and challenging. With countless data points to analyse, it has become nearly impossible for’ humans’ to keep up, as the algorithms of major ad platforms belonging to the likes of Facebook and Google are constantchanging.

“As soon as you think you have worked it out, they change again, ” says Luke Calavassy, Head of Innovation at Cellarmasters.

“Whilst data is paramount, so is staying close to the customer. As a brand I believe it is our responsibility to stay directly relating to our customers; this is not something we want to outsource to an agency. I know our success as a brand is directly associated with our ability to stay close to our customers.”

Customer behaviour and expectations are constantly evolving and shifting- brands cannot read the minds of their clients. What a customer wants, how they prefer to shop, and their expectations of personalisation and frictionless transactions are changing the traditional retail scenery as we know it.

This whitepaper on the changing landscape of the

The million-dollar question that brands and retailers want an answer to is “What do we do, and how do we do it? ”. How do they continue to understand the complexity of their customers’ needs and cater to them on an individual, personal level; to deliver the right message at the right time without being overly invasive? It is a difficult balancing act, and like many business challenges, technology can be a powerful facilitator.

I recently sat down with Luke Calavassy from Cellarmasters to understand the commercial business decision-making process behind the implementation of AI to their digital marketing program. He said they chose Albert’s marketing AI technologyto drive better client experience and commercial outcomes.

“We had to find a way to serve the right client the right message on the right platform at the right time- and no human being can do this at speed and scale. The human element is most important when it comes to product, campaign, design and creative- but receiving audiences( for less) is better left to Albert, ” he said.

Introducing AI technology to their brand: The Cellarmasters story

Cellarmasters is one of Australia’s largest direct retailers of boutique wines. For them, digital marketing has always depicted to be the most effective way to detect clients for their brand, and the pressure to continue to grow their client base shows no sign of slowing down.

With marketing activities managed in-house, Cellarmasters owns its data- but the cost of finding and acquiring new clients( and the pressure on budgets) meant they needed an alternative solution. Legacy data systems had created restrictions for the brand to integrate with many of the latest platforms and applications, leaving them limited in terms of data( having enough- or the right data ), to allow them to execute fast and effective marketing campaigns.

Albert provided a marketing AI technology answerthat could integrate with Cellarmaster’s digital ad accounts seamlessly, and would scale its marketing and product offer decision making at pace; reacting to real time customer behaviour. Albert’s ability to execute autonomously and at speed also freed up their team to focus on ideation and strategy, and to explore new opportunities and realise efficiencies across their total digital marketing and distribution channels.

“Since implementing Albert the return on advertising expend has significantly increased to a level we could not achieve previously. Albert has also freed up time to allow our digital team to focus more on strategy, product and creative and less on execution, ” Luke said.

Google Search cost per acquisition( CPA) has reduced by 54% Year-on-Year Google Search return on ad spend( ROAS) has increased 149% Year-on-Year Google Search generic ads impression share has increased 34% Year-on-Year

Albert timely and effective feedback and direction on creative assets, so the marketing squad could adjust and optimise messaging and deliver the best possible client experience. The squad have also find more effective product planning thanks to the availability of big data sets and results on hand, whenever they need them.

“It takes heroism and trust to do something differently, ” Luke said.

“But what I knew without a doubt was that continuing to do it the’ old way’ was never going to deliver new results and allow us to continue to scale.

“The speed of change and the quantity of digital data needs a state-of-the-art solution that will constantly learn and evolve as the digital marketing landscape changes, moment by moment. At some phase we just had to bite the bullet and take the plunge- and I am so glad that we did it when we did … every day counts now in this world.

“I think also to the outages of Facebook, Instagram and Google recently. I know that Albert dealt with all of that on our behalf, so our team could maintain focus … Albert does all the hard work on these’ blips’.”

Read the full Cellarmasters story .

This is a powerful narrative. It took real gallantry on the one of the purposes of Cellarmasters to try something so innovative. Retail is not going to get any easier- and the working day of’ small town charm’ are not was coming. Taking action is the only style to make a difference to the bottom line.

The two more compelling takeaways for me were :P TAGEND 1. In the real world: You must get close to your client

You can’t learn enough about your brand if you’re removed from the day-to-day insights and executing of your marketing activity. A business must always own the customer relationship- this cannot be outsourced. By handing over control of your first party data to externals you are effectively handing over your client relationships. Externals give you bandwidth in other ways, such as creative, but to be able to act on the insights and recommendations made by Albert a brand MUST own its own channels- and these are important leadership dialogues to have in business.

2. Problem solving: Retail is not getting any easier

If you think retail is tough now, just think what it will be like in two or three years’ period. Business and marketers must get set up now for what is coming, or they will be left behind. There are so many’ solutions’ and it can appear overwhelming- the challenge is how to start and how to know what’s right for your business. Integration is a key stumbling block for many businesses operating on legacy tech stacks- and this is a key advantage of a answer like Albert, as it connects directly to social and search accounts without the need to touch existing technology in the business. And this is also why it’s paramount to own your own brand data and the sources, and to have those conversations now to set your business up for a successful future.

Change is here and those brands and retailers that do not future-proof their business now, face being left behind.

As Luke set it, “Albert AI is not for everyone- in fact I understand that unless the business satisfies certain criteria then he is not going to take them on. Albert knows how he works best, and he will only accept clients he knows he will be successful with. If nothing else I loved that integrity; not something you get from a lot of’ vendors’ or bureaux. We watch a long and fruitful relationship ahead with Albert”.

What is Artificial Intelligence?

Artificial Intelligence( AI ), is a word first coined by John McCarthy in 1956 when he invited a group of researchers to the Dartmouth Summer Research Project workshop to discuss what would ultimately become the field of AI. The researchers came together to clarify and develop the concepts around “thinking machines”. According to The Encyclopedia Britannica, “Artificial Intelligence( AI) today is the ability of a digital computer or computer-controlled robot to perform tasks commonly associated with intelligent beings”. Intelligent beings are those that can adapt to changing circumstances.

Find out more about Albert’s marketing AI technology in Australia and New Zealand.

Read more: naomisimson.com