#but like it all kinda falls under that capitalism umbrella and then some

[themoonunderstoodmydadjokes]

Something I genuinely miss is sitting across from someone, face to face and just talking for hours. With no agenda, no “oh I have to rush off” or “I only have an hour to chat.” Talking about anything and everything. Getting to share yourself with them and being privileged enough to have them share who they are with you. I miss hearing the expression in peoples voices as they talk and seeing it in their face, reading body language for context clues on what’s actually being said. I hate that so much of this is replaced digitally. Social media, texting, video calls, etc. and yeah maybe I sound old saying all of that. But I truly hate what being online has done to communication and quality time. Like they’re not inherently bad things, they’re just very limiting to connection and human expression and I’ll die on this hill lol.

[wannabepygmalion]

30 factoids let’s gooo

( i just felt like doing these for fun... seeing briar do it + the ask memes got me thinking and i had the urge lmao )

1. His favorite Sanrio character is Cinnamoroll!! Also a fan of Marumofubiyori and Pompompurin.

2. Domino enjoys some music from pretty much any genre, but his favorite music usually is of the pop rock-pop punk-rock umbrella of sounds. He likes music that you could shout along to for Emotional Release (even though he will not actually do the shouting. he just still likes that vibe). 

3. He likes Animal Crossing. Probably doesn’t care too much about having a super finished and decorated island, but I imagine he tends to drift towards fall/autumn aesthetics and cottagecore vibes for what he does do… I think some of his favorite villagers would include Sylvana, Marshal, Teddy, Patty, Chief, Benjamin, Anabelle, Eunice, Shep, Hazel… he likes most of the Sanrio villagers too.

4. His favorite season is autumn, unsurprisingly.

5. Domino really likes dyeing his hair! He likes the sensation of looking in the mirror afterwards and his reflection feeling Different. 

6. He’s just so into art and art history. Once you get him to open up and he doesn’t feel like he’s annoying you, he will happily talk your ear off about (checks watch) the Corinthian order of Ancient Greek architecture. 

7. Also he does enjoy himself a little K-pop. He’s not super, super into it, but he has some groups he follows. Likes some songs he comes across. This is largely because I like to think about what kind of idols he’d bias since I”m so into it. I would name some groups he’d like, but I doubt any of them would still be around by 2030--

8. Growing up, his family never had any pets! Too busy. I think, honestly, Domino’s maybe never lived in a household that had pets, only met other people’s briefly. He would enjoy having a pet someday, but right now he doesn’t feel stable enough or like his life situation is good for a pet.

9. He has a couple fake succulents in his bedroom. He is currently too nervous that he’ll accidentally kill one and feel awful about it to try looking after a real plant.

10. His roommate’s name is Atlas! Atlas is a Twitch streamer who’s been getting more popular recently due to Minecraft roleplay, and is also a musician. Atlas’ online handle is Bird; his real identity is not public information.

11. Which. Yes, Domino has played Minecraft. But only on creative mode. He thinks it’s fun to build when his brain needs to chill, not really here for combat and all that.

12. He has a tattoo of a larkspur flower on one of his forearms; he got this pretty recently! Within the last 3 months or so.

13. He is banned from every Jamba Juice. If you ask him about this, he will either avoid it or tell you a different story every time.

14. Domino is actually really good at drawing as well as sculpting, but he heavily prefers sculpting. He’s been drawing for longer, but, when he first tried sculpting, something about it just clicked with him that he’d never experienced prior. 

15. He doesn’t drink alcohol, nor does he consume caffeine!

16. Atlas is also a faceless streamer -- his audience doesn’t know Domino exists beyond Atlas mentioning he has a roommate. Domino would like to keep it that way as much as possible.

17. He’s not a big spender… a good chunk of the money he earns from working goes to general life expenses -- rent, groceries, etc. He is not rich by any means. Money that’s leftover gets put away for when he needs to buy more art supplies; he spent a hot minute saving up for his tattoo since he wanted it to be nice.

18. Domino has an Instagram, but he doesn’t really do the “social” aspect of it. He just uses it more like a portfolio to post his work. Doesn’t respond to comments or anything, doesn’t look at it otherwise.

19. In general, he kinda avoids social media besides, like. Youtube and Twitch, and even then, he’s a diehard lurker for everything. He has spent some time browsing R/ddit, though, because it’s a decent place to see people talking about extremely specific experiences. Been on some specific forums too. Sometimes stuff like that makes him feel more validated and shit. Only valid R/dditor on the planet, etc. He absorbs other internet culture via osmosis from Atlas anyway.

20. He doesn’t drive! He still has a license for the sake of having a valid ID, but doesn’t drive with it. Doesn’t even have a car.

21. He has an older brother, who’s an engineer. He’s a couple years older and is off married somewhere else having an extremely normal life. Domino is estranged from his brother and has never met said brother’s wife. Probably didn’t even go to their wedding, honestly.

22. Domino doesn’t do commission work! He just kinda… does things at his own pace, then displays and eventually sells his work when it’s done.

23. The agent Domino works with is an older woman who works at a local art gallery that kinda took him under her wing. For obvious reasons. I mean, look at him. Her name is Veronica McCoy. Yes, I just took two names from Riverdale and slapped them together.

24. He doesn’t believe in soulmates! Or love at first sight, for that matter.

25. Domino’s usual typing style is actually a lot more laid back and casual -- no capitals, more prone to shortening words, etc. However, he types a lot more formally when it’s appropriate and/or he’s not comfortable with everyone in the convo. Similarly, he’ll loosen up a little in-person as he grows more at ease with you. To no one’s surprise, he will not give anyone nicknames unless they tell him to call them something else… he doesn’t want to offend.

26. Yes, he can and will swear if he’s comfortable with you. Yes, Domino can and will say ‘fuck’ -- though, he doesn’t throw it around constantly like some of my other characters. 

27. Domino has read a translation of all of Ovid’s ‘Metamorphoses.’ He loves that shit.

28. I think cows are one of his favorite animals… he just thinks they’re cute and have very sweet faces. He never wants to touch T/kTok (or its future equivalent) with a 10-foot pole, but he would be very pleased if you sent him videos of cute animals. Curated content with none of the stress.

29. When very focused working on something, he tends to stick his tongue out. :P

30. Some plants I would associate with him include: cyclamen, columbine, and meadow saffron!

[raisinchallah]

god not to just constantly sit around sharing my stupid thoughts on mental illness that nobody needs to hear but i really do feel like hmm watching the various debates about if mental illness would still exist if capitalism didnt exist is just like kind of a worthless road to go down because the reality is that the people who would fully experience such a thing are people who are not alive today and that things that fall under the umbrella of mental illness are like just ways of expressing deep pain in a language that the culture you live in gives you it is something that can vary but pain and trauma are something that has existed for all of human history and will probably never be fully eliminated and there have always been different ways of processing that and expressing those feelings and so on but like those experiences are not going to disappear and the goal should be a hope that we can create a world where a lot less of that happens and people have the space and room to heal and also must include the possibility some people just might not really recover as you imagine it and thats ok because frankly anything otherwise is well ur dipping a toe into eugenics i think this conversation has also often revolved around like adhd or general neurodivergence and idk for whatever reason i feel like people have entirely reframed adhd around like oh the suffering i feel which is like crazy to me and i think again should just be coupled with a full understanding that there is a huge variation in human brains and processing and like everything you could possibly imagine and thats honestly kinda fucking cool and it would be incredible to live in a world where that is not seen as a problem because it can make you worse at like generating money and holding a full time job and again i think these discussions can feel very sad and scary because honestly this world we live in has created so much pain and trauma people may never get over and i think suggesting all that will be gone if people create a new economic system both ignores the violence and trauma that will be sustained to achieve that and also kind of hopes people will just um go away i think whatever just my little thoughts

[portableusbstick]

Ya girl’s at it again! This is my first reader insert fic lol, you can read it on ao3 or here (though I recommend ao3) It’s a crossover between persona 5 and the garden of words (makoto shinkai)

The fic will be under the cut

Once, not long ago, where the rainy season ensued, two people were longing for the rain. Bright grins broke out whenever the sky cried, hurried steps to take an umbrella, moving through the crowds, these all happened upon stormy days. But perhaps, the rain was just an excuse. An excuse to meet once more. The rain was how they met, and the rain is how they will depart. Now, let's begin the tale, shall we?

-----

The sky was crying.

 Soft tears that fell from the heavens. 

A hand reached out to feel the droplets softly falling from the sky.

"Rain..."

 You loved the rain; it felt like it was a part of you. The droplets were like an old friend, its rhythmic beat acted like a comforting hand on your shoulder. The palliative pitter-patter of the rainfall would always ease your worries. 

But you didn't have time to waste staring at mother nature's tears; the train departed in 15 minutes, and one couldn't afford to miss it. Grabbing your bag along with a clear umbrella, you went outside to catch the train. 

The streets of Shibuya were always busy with crowded people and heavy air. To tell the truth, it made you quite nauseous. The bitter smell of newspaper and wet hair was never your cup of tea. The train departed in 4 minutes, but your feet took you to someplace other than the station. 

'I brought my notebook...so I might as well go there.'

The mere thought of visiting your sanctuary was enough to bring excitement. 

'Class can wait.' 

Tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, you switched your destination to the national garden. You looked forward to a moment where there wouldn't be teachers with their overly saccharine voice or classwork that had no value. No, today would be just a time for you to relax, at least for the first period of class. 

The bustling crowd slowly dispersed, leaving you at the entrance of the grand conservatory. The vines and foliage created some sort of safe space away from humanity. It was still raining so there was seldom if any people, perfect for relaxing without any worries. Yes, this was your sanctuary. A place where one could escape the fast-pacing world to take a breather. 

"Meow."

You abandon your peaceful thoughts and turn to see... a cat? In a bag?! 

'Is that even safe?' You wondered. 

Your eyes shift from the peculiar animal to the potential owner, a boy with floofy hair and thick glasses, intentively reading a book.

"Meow." 

"You're not slick, Morgana." 

"MeOw!"

Okay, maybe not too intensively. 

You sweatdropped at the scene playing out. A boy quarreling with... a cat...

'This...' You thought to yourself as a smirk crept up your lips, 'is perfect writing material!' 

Indeed it was. A boy and a cat arguing would certainly get views, but you were a writer, and this was a perfect scenario for your two characters to meet in a rom-com situation!

You bring out your notebook and start furiously jotting the scene before your eyes. 

"Meow."

"How many times do I have to tell you? Girls aren't romantically into-" 

The boy's dialogue abruptly stopped as he noticed you. 

'Oh, crap...'

"G-Goodmorning."

'Abort, abort, abort mission.' 

"Were...were you talking to your cat?"

The silence hung in the air as the fencepost three feet away suddenly looked very interesting.

"Don't...Don't we all?" He played off the bizarre scenario as if it were something to brush off as easily as, say, a stray piece of paper on the floor.  

"Y-yeah but...not like...not like that." You decided to give up on this conversation before a passerby decides to take both of you to a mental hospital. And with a quick glance at your phone told you that you only had 30 minutes left until your next class began. 

Sighing as you wished for something to drink, you sat on the bench as the tip of your pencil began scritching the surface of your notebook, trying to get past your writer's block. 

The serene mix of your pencil scribbles, the boy's page turns, along with the pattering of the rain truly gave a stereotypical melodrama film feeling. 

The boy was too engrossed in his novel to notice that his cat had gotten out of his lap and swatted away your pencil, creating a long pencil slash across your words.  You didn't mind, though. Writer's block kept you from creating astounding ideas anyways. 

 "Morgana!" The boy scolded as he returned your pencil. 

"Thanks." 

When he gave your writing utensil back to you, you discovered that upon closer inspection, he had cherry blossom petals stuck in his hair. His eyes were sharp and held dark grey irises along with long eyelashes. Deciding to stop being a creep, you tried to make some small talk. 

"So, is your school closed?" 

You expected a casual answer; something along the lines of 'yeah lol its a teacher faculty meeting day' or something like that. 

The boy answered without looking up from the book. 

"Kinda, my physical education teacher got arrested for harassing minors and abusing students, so they let us out early."

Okay, you didn't expect that.

'what...what the actual heck? Is this guy for real?? Saying that with such a nonchalant expression,' you checked your phone once more, ' and it's only 9:00!' 

You slightly feared the adolescent beside you as he didn't even blink when stating the fact. 

"What? Did you expect that my school had a faculty meeting?" He saw right through you. "What about you?" 

"Uh...No...I just decided to skip...Seems a little underwhelming compared to yours, huh?"

"Yeah, it's a little hard to top my school's shenanigans, little miss delinquent." 

You ignored the unnecessary comment. 

'What school is he even from?'

You glanced at his uniform. 

'Shujin... and a second-year?' 

Before you could tell him your school, your alarm goes off, signaling the start of the second period. 

"Ah, I should go."

The boy adjusted his glasses and smirked, "Back to class, little Miss delinquent?" 

"Don't call me that, Hanabira-san." 

"Flower peta-?" 

You cut him off by removing one of the flower petals from his hair, rubbing the fragile material betwixt your two fingers. 

"The rainy season blows the cherry blossoms away, so it's like it's raining petals. It's quite majestic, isn't it, Hanabira-san? Almost like a scene from a fantasy..." 

To your surprise, he gave a chuckle. 

"Funny, because another girl told me how she hated the rainy season for the exact same reason, except she didn't find it beautiful."

You took out your clear umbrella once more but had trouble opening it. 

"Here."

He opened it with ease, rubbing the salt on the wound. 

"Well, thanks, Hanabira-san."

"See ya, Tsuyu-chan."

___

"Tsuyu-chan..." 

The name meant 'Morning Dew' in Japanese. 

You smiled fondly at the memory as your teachers droned on about capitalism. 

'I like it...'

[merthewarrior]

I know I'm preaching to the choir. But so be it.

In the convergence of politics, public health, and racial inequality that we currently find ourselves in, I’d like to draw attention to a fascinating bit of history that very directly relates to where we are today.

The Homestead Act (1862) provided any white US citizen with 160 acres of free land under the only provision that you “improve it” with a dwelling and some crops or livestock or whatever.

This was one of the singular most profound acts of socialism that gave white Americans a foundation upon which to build their lives and prosperity, and, dare I say it, the “American Dream”.

Yes, socialism! That word that is supposed to make you squirm whilst you also are struggling to pay bills and retain health insurance during a pandemic under this golden umbrella of capitalism. Statistically speaking, if the word “socialism” does indeed make you squirm, you are most likely white and say things like “all lives matter”. Ironically, you are precisely the demographic that has a place in this society BECAUSE OF THIS SOCIALIST LEGISLATION. Black Americans, meanwhile, were SPECIFICALLY excluded from the Homestead Act.

So regardless of your present financial situation, your parents and/or grandparents, great-grandparents, and great-great-grandparents, had equity to benefit from and pass along that black citizens did not. One of many, many reasons why Black Lives Matter, well, matters.

Here’s another funny bit of irony: to qualify for the Homestead Act, you also had to have “never borne arms against the US government”. Kinda awkward for the NRA folks who claim to need their weapons specifically to bear arms against the US government. Guess that apple did fall a little further from the ancestral tree than you probably think.

Trump campaigns have distributed a plethora of ads suggesting that a Biden presidency would send is into *gasp* a Socialist nightmare! When the reality is:

1) The Capitalist system of the US is held up on multiple Socialist legislation, including the stability provided by the Homestead Act.

2) This legislation was also often racist, and thus every economic component henceforth carries and perpetuates that inequality.

3) If you’re opposed to the idea of full-fledged Socialism, then you should be in favor of REFORMING our Capitalist system to make it BETTER for its citizens. ALL citizens, of every race. Or at least not crumbling because unlike the rest of the developed world, it cannot withstand a pandemic without allowing hundreds of thousands of its citizens to die.

4) If you think that people of color and immigrants are keeping you from getting a bigger slice of the American Pie, you need to examine what entities are getting the vast majority of today's cut of socialist legislation in the form of hardship bailouts. Spoiler: its corporations, and the very people in the financial pyramid that have convinced you that you can be like them someday, while simultaneously ensuring you never will, and that you vote against socialism that actually benefits YOU.

5) Maxwell didn’t kill herself. (Now I'm just working ahead in the curriculum).

[im-fairly-whitty]

Caught in the Riptide -- Riptide!Incredibles AU

Violet Parr’s almost-boyfriend Tony Rydinger has super abilities he’s hidden his whole life. That is, hidden until the government asks him to join their new “exemplary taskforce” of new Supers to pave the way for legalized, registered, and government-employed Supers.

Tony has never wanted to be a capital S Super, but he figures that if participating in what he’s assured is really just a publicity campaign is how he can help defend his country against non-registered vigilantes like the Incredibles, then it’s his duty to do his best. Of course, the newly christened Riptide soon realizes that nothing is quite as simple as it seems.

Fanfic for the Riptide!Incredibles AU. A post-movie Incredibles 2 au belonging to @edorazzi (on tumblr).

Part 1: The Offer

“And then my family’s going on a trip next week,” Violet said, flipping on her blinker as they drove through an intersection, “so I don’t know when I’ll be back from that.”

“I can’t believe how many things your family does together.” Tony said, smiling as he stared out at the heavy rain hitting the car window.

He could feel the water all around them, falling from the sky, pelting the windshield, running across the pavement under them and spraying from the spinning wheels of the car as they drove. It made him feel alive. If he were alone he’d have the windows all rolled down.

“Oh, well, I mean, I guess,” Violet said, blushing a little as she turned the wheel, “my dad’s always making us go, and my mom’s always-”

“No, no, I think it’s cool.” Tony said quickly. He and Violet had been spending time together for months now, but she still got embarrassed over the funniest things. “I think it’s really neat that your parents want to spend so much time with you, even if it’s always so last minute. I mean, I wish I could see you more, but I get it.”

“Well, thanks.” Violet said. She was smiling that adorable little smile she did when he knew she wanted to smile big, “And thanks for being cool with it.”

“What kind of friend would I be if I wasn’t?” Tony said, playfully elbowing her, “I mean, you’re the one chauffeuring me to work.”

“Stop it Tony, I’m driving.” Violet said, laughing as she elbowed him back. “Sorry we’re taking all these side roads, Center Street is still all torn up, I hope you’re not going to be late.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll just tell my mom we forgot about the construction.” Tony said, “I guess the Incredibles sure had a blast taking out whoever was trying to rob the bank last week.”

“The DMV.”

“What? I thought they said it was the bank on the news?”

“I mean...it might have been the bank.” Violet said, casually shrugging her shoulders as they drove into the parking lot of the Happy Platter, pulling around back, “I don’t really pay attention to the news I guess.”

“I don’t really either.” Tony said, unbuckling his seatbelt as she parked the car in the back alley behind the restaurant, “All this Super politics stuff kinda goes over my head to be honest.”

“Don’t forget your umbrella,” Violet said as he opened his door, “you’ll get soaked.”

“Thanks.”  Tony said, grabbing his black umbrella and opening it with a grin as he stepped out of the car, right into a puddle that came up to his ankles. “I don’t mind a little water though.”

“Well, you’ll mind a lot of water if you start your shift looking like a drowned rat.” Violet said with an amused look, “You’re already in your work clothes, you won’t have time to dry off.”

Tony leaned down to see her one last time, obediently holding the umbrella over himself to stay dry.

“You still want to come over to do homework tomorrow after school?” he asked, leaning his arm against the top of the car door.

“Only if we finally watch that dumb movie you keep bugging me about afterward.” Violet said.

“Aw, come on Vi! Creature from the Black Lagoon is a work of art!” Tony teased, “You just watch, it’ll be a classic someday. I think it’ll be on at seven tomorrow night, I’ll double check which channel.”

“I’m only watching it so I’ll have some peace.” Violet said, rolling her eyes in mock irritation. “I’ll bring the popcorn.”

“Perfect.” Tony said, stepping back so he could shut the door as Violet rolled the window down. “I’ll call you at like ten tonight, when I get off work.”

“Sounds good, my dad should be off the phone by then.” Violet said, “Have a good shift, Tony.”

“Drive safe, Vi.”

Tony backed up as she rolled the window up and put the car in reverse, waving at him as she pulled out of the alley and then drove away, disappearing into the pouring rain.

Tony wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve having her as a friend, but whatever it was, he was glad he’d done it. And maybe, if he wasn’t reading all the signs completely wrong, they could even be more than friends soon.

He looked down at his shoes, they were completely soaked through to his socks. He smiled as he splashed his right foot a little, then closed his umbrella. He looked up into the stormy grey sky, stretching out his arms as the rain pelted him, soaking him to the bone in seconds.

The water was probably freezing, but even when he was a kid water temperature had never bothered him, whether cold or hot. He spread his fingers wide, letting the feeling wash through him. Every part of him tingled with energy, the water around him feeling like possibility, wanting him to reach out, to let it become a part of him.

But...he was already late for work. And besides, even in a back alley someone might see him.

He took a last deep breath of the stormy air, and then pulled a key out of his pocket, unlocking the back door of his family’s restaurant and letting himself into the kitchens. Mom would be expecting him to be waiting tables already, meaning he had to get out to the front.

He left sloshing footprints across the tile floor of the empty, half-lit backroom as he tossed his umbrella in the corner. Tony closed his eyes, taking in a breath and letting himself feel the water that was dripping off him, the water plastering his hair down, the drop of water dripping off his nose.

He took a careful breath, and then raised both his hands, imagining that he was pulling off a blanket. He opened his eyes as the water on him pulled forward and then off him, gathering into a clear mass floating in front of him, leaving his work uniform and hair completely dry.

He smiled to himself as he carefully moved his wrists, sending the water running through the air and splashing into an old sink, only some of it sloshing onto the floor. He reached out to the spilled water on the floor with his mind, commanding it to gather itself up and sending it up and into the sink with the rest.

Tony grinned as he quickly ran his fingers through his mussed hair and straightened his work uniform bowtie. His breath was a little shaky, but it was worth the satisfaction of an “insta-dry” as he called it.

Only his parents knew about his...skill, and he rarely used it, but he did have a couple small tricks that made life easier when no one was around.

He walked to the sink, turning on the tap for cold, and then walking to the other end of the counter to grab some of the plastic pitchers sitting on the shelf. He arranged a set of plastic tumblers on a serving tray, then looked over at the running tap.

Normally he’d just walk the extra five steps back to the sink to fill the pitchers the normal way...but there was still so much energy running through him from the storm he could still feel raging outside.

He might as well have just a little more fun before getting to work.

He reached out with his mind to the tap water, beckoning it forward with his hand and angling it into the two pitchers he had set on the counter. It took extra focus to keep the running water in the air, but he squinted his eyes, keeping his hands steady as he imagined running an imaginary hose from the faucet to the pitchers, carefully filling them both before letting the stream of water drop back into the sink with a splash.

Tony leaned against the counter, chuckling a little at his slight dizziness as he took a second to collect himself. He picked up one of the pitchers, inspecting it smugly. Not too shabby.

“That’s quite a party trick you have there, young man.”

Tony jumped, whipping around in panic, the pitcher he was holding sloshing water all across the floor.

A man in a trim suit walked out of the shadows on the other side of the room, an amused smile on his face.

Tony’s mind somehow blanked and screamed at him at the same time. The man had seen, he’d seen him use his power, he knew he wasn’t normal. Was he just a patron who’d wandered into the back looking for the bathroom? Was he from some kind of superpower tracking organization? Was he going to arrest him?

“I, I wasn’t, I didn’t-” Tony stuttered, taking a step back and clutching the mostly empty pitcher.

What if the man was a villain?

“Hold on there son, calm down.” the man said, chuckling as he held out a hand, “My name is William Gibbons, I’m just here to talk.”

“C-customers aren’t allowed in the back, Sir.” Tony said, his voice cracking and his brain switching into autopilot as he stared at the man’s outstretched hand.

“Hydrokinesis.” Mr. Gibbons said, putting his unshaken hand back in his pocket, “That’s an incredible power, ever use it for anything bigger than filling water pitchers?”

“No sir, Supers are illegal.” Tony said, his knuckles turning white from his grip on the water pitcher’s handle. “I mean, I think they are, I don’t really listen to the news that close, I just do little things, I mean, I try not to, I mean-”

“I’m sorry to have caught you on your shift Mr. Rydinger, but I have a proposition for you.” Mr. Gibbons said, pulling over two bar stools from the side of the room and sitting on one, waving for Tony to sit on the other. “I’m an agent for the United States Exemplary Taskforce committee for the Superhero Registration Accords initiative. Ever heard of it?”

“I-I don’t think so.” Tony said, cautiously scooting onto the other stool, “I mean, I’ve heard of the accords, everyone’s heard of that I think. Not the other one though.”

What he wanted was to run out of the room, but it was way too late for that. Besides, if Mr. Gibbons was going to hurt or arrest him he already would have, right?

“Well, that’s because the “other one” is a highly classified government project.” Mr. Gibbons said, tugging on the cuffs of his sleeves, “Which is why before we go any further I ask that you keep the subject matter of this conversation between us. I am bringing you into a conversation of utmost importance, one of national security.”

“Of course, yes sir.” Tony said, sitting up straight on his stool. National security?

“Times are changing Mr. Rydinger, as you’re probably aware,” Mr. Gibbons said, “there’s been a shift in our society recently with the re-emergence of Supers. While being a Superhero, and to some extent having super powers, has been illegal until very recently, we’re now seeing more and more individuals step up to the opportunity to use their powers in public. What’s your opinion on it, Anthony?”

“I, well, I guess everyone’s just trying to do their best.” Tony said, shrugging his shoulders, unable to fight off a rising sense of deja vu, “I mean, I know Supers do a lot of damage to buildings and roads, but as long as they’re protecting innocent people I think that’s something good, right? I know there’s a lot of people who are using their powers for bad too though, I guess I can see both sides.”

“You’re a smart kid.” Mr. Gibbons said, nodding, “That’s a very diplomatic answer. Tell me Anthony, have you ever considered being a Super?”

Him? A Super?

“Not since I was really young I think.” Tony said, laughing nervously, “I mean, the whole idea sounds cool to any kid I think, but all I can do is throw water around. And I wouldn’t want to break the law like that anyway, filling glasses is one thing, but I would never go running around trying to stop crime, I’m not like, like the Incredibles or anything.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that, you’re exactly the kind of person that I’m looking for.” Mr. Gibbons said, reaching into his coat and pulling out a business card, handing it to Tony.

He tipped the card towards the light, the words “Exemplary Taskforce” glinting back at him.

“This is going to be a time that is very confusing for a lot of Supers,” Mr. Gibbons said, watching him closely, “whether they’ve been participating in illegal activity, or doing their civic duty like yourself and obeying the law. The last thing that the government wants right now is for mass chaos to break out, we don’t need everyone who can buy a set of spandex starting to moonlight as a “hero” in their spare time. There need to be rules, there needs to be order. There needs to be an example set for the coming generation of Supers, and I would like you to be part of that.”

“I, what?” Tony said, looking up, “But I’m not a Super, I mean, my power isn’t really good for anything but drying off quickly.”

“That’s only because you haven’t trained your skill,” Mr. Gibbons leaning forward on his stool with a smile, “imagine what it would be like to walk outside into that rain right now and be able to reach out and stop every raindrop for miles around. Imagine being able to dive into the ocean and having all that water respond to your command. Being able to divert rivers to put out fires, containing explosions and debris with a wall of water, immobilizing criminals with the flick of your wrist and a puddle.”

Tony sat on his stool, holding his half-full pitcher of water and hearing the rain pounding the roof above him. For a moment he did imagine. The breathtaking rush that controlling that much water would be, how incredible it would feel to spring into action to help others with his power.

To not be afraid to live that part of himself out in the open.

“Well, when you say it like that it does sound pretty cool.” Tony said, smiling at the business card, “What...would someone on your taskforce do?”

“The taskforce is going to be a group of brand new heroes,” Mr. Gibbons said, “Supers who will be examples of heroes at their peak. Instead of being vigilantes operating with homemade equipment and their own rules, taskforce members will receive professional training, identity protection, publicity management, and a government issued paycheck for their services.

“The reason that Supers were outlawed was because of the unchecked destruction caused by well-intentioned vigilantes playing by their own rules. This time around we’re going to show everyone that Supers and the government can work together, and that it’s better for everyone. No more chaos, everything legal, Supers will finally be able to fully integrate into society. Their efforts will be a proper career, a way to build a safer world for us all.”

“That does sound pretty cool.” Tony said softly.

A world with legal Supers. A world with Supers who could be trained and paid and protected. A world where having powers would never have to be illegal again and everyone could be safe.

“I have school though,” Tony said, looking away from the card, “I have a job helping my parents with the restaurant. I’d really like to help, but I don’t know if I’m good enough to help so many people, there has to be someone better, someone stronger who wants to fight.”

“That son is what we call humility.” Mr. Gibbons said, smiling, “And believe it or not, it’s perhaps the rarest power a Super can have. If you choose to join the taskforce you won’t have to worry, your schooling will be finished with private tutors and your parents will receive a stipend that will cover much more than your half-time table bussing shift, believe me.

“As for strength, that’s what the training is for, and besides, the goal of the task force is not to be soldiers, it’s to have a group of levelheaded Supers that can be ambassadors to the public. Supers who can set an example for others to follow, to show unity and organization to help reign in vigilantes before they come back in full force.”

“And...if I say no thanks?” Tony asked, scratching the back on his head.

“It’s entirely up to you.” Mr. Gibbons shrugged, “There would be a legal silence agreement I would ask you to sign to keep this conversation to ourselves, and then you would be free to bus tables in peace for the rest of your high school career. There’s plenty of other law-abiding Supers out there who would be able to fulfill their duty to serve their country, to take our nation in the right direction, to set an example for the entire world of what unity and freedom really looks like.”

The whole world. A whole generation of Supers. Thousands of people, of kids like him, who’d hidden what they could do their whole lives.

Tony looked down at the water left in his plastic pitcher.

It was crazy, it was completely out of the blue, but...was it really that crazy when he thought about it? He never really wanted to be a Super, a real hero out on the streets, but he’d been born with his talent anyway, and he was already a firm believer that people who could help others should.

“Can I think about it?” Tony asked, looking down and rubbing his thumb over the business card.

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect you to make this kind of decision on the spot.” Mr. Gibbons said, getting off his stool and straightening his hat, “I’ve already spoken with your parents and they’ve given their permission if you’re interested.”

“Really?” Tony’s eyes widened. Mom and Dad had always been alright with his ability, but he’d never really, well, talked to them about it before.

“They understand that you have a unique talent, and that if you choose to develop it legally into a career serving your country that it’s your choice.” Mr. Gibbons said, putting his stool back against the wall, “Of course, I would recommend that you speak with them about it as well. I have another stop here in town before I head back, but when you’ve made up your mind my number is on the back of that card. Don't lose it, and remember that if you agree to join, the sooner you let me know the sooner we can start your training.”

“Yes, sir.” Tony said, getting up from his stool and slipping the card into his apron pocket, this time shaking Mr. Gibbons’ hand when he offered it. “Thank you for coming and talking to me about this, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“You’re a bright kid Anthony,” Mr. Gibbons smiled, “I know you’ll make whatever choice is best. I hope to hear from you soon.”

And without another word, he turned and left the kitchen. Leaving Tony standing alone with his half-full pitcher, and a business card that felt like it was burning a hole in his apron.

Tony stared at the wall for a long minute, his head a mess of thoughts.

He walked to the back door, almost in a daze, propping it open to see the rain still coming down hard outside.

A real Super. Really helping people. Helping bring order and unity. Something that only someone like him could do.

He reached out a hand, pulling some of the rain over to fall across his palm, dripping off his fingertips.

This was something he could do.

[Read Chapter 2: Old Friends]

----------

Hope you enjoyed part 1, I’ve been captured by this au and as usual will be chasing it as far as my excitement takes me. (Which my long-time readers know is usually pretty far.)

I have at least a couple more chapters in mind for this au, so be sure to follow my tumblr and AO3 to catch the next chapter as soon as it posts. Many thanks to @edorazzi on tumblr for starting this au with their wonderful artwork and headcanons, and for welcoming me on to write for it! Their ideas are fantastic and so fun to work with.

Cheers,

- Wit

(Support me on Patreon or buy me a Ko-fi!)

[disneytva]

Q&A: John Landgraf Talks FX Networks Future Under Disney Umbrella

So you talked about FX’s future in relation to Disney’s streaming efforts. Have you started to formulate a picture of what that might look like, specifically, in terms of what FX’s role is?

No, we can’t. The bottom line is – and it’s frustrating, I’m sure that HBO felt the same thing in a much longer period, actually (when the AT&T-Time Warner deal was closing). But the truth is, we can speculate and plan all we want, but we can’t be directed, so essentially there’s a lot of work to be done once the deal’s closed to try to hone in on a specific strategy.

Are you getting a sense of how much investment you might see or where you might want to focus that investment?

Bob (Iger) has not declared the level of investment yet. I feel like what he’s indicated is that at (Disney’s) investor day, which is in April, he’ll start to articulate broadly the level investment corporately. But if you think about it, there’s a lot of sub-units in that corporation, and so hypothetically, even if you knew what the whole amount was, you wouldn’t then automatically know what portion of it might fall to FX, so we’ve kinda done what we always do, which is worked in the other direction, which is said, “OK, well we don’t want to be infinitely big; we don’t want to have an infinite number of at-bats.”

We’re excited about the prospect of having more, but we don’t want to change our fundamental focus or our brand, and so a lot of that has to do with process, it’s not just about what you pick. It’s about how you focus on things, it’s about how you work with people. It’s a very bespoke, sort of extremely intensely intimate interpersonal relationship we have during production and development and marketing and the holistic process with folks.

And it’s not an infinitely scalable process, right? So we’ve asked ourselves a different question, which is, “OK, if we had more resources, how would we want to use them? What would we like to do? What would we propose to do in the future that we’re not doing today? How much more of this, how much more of that? And how would we get there?” So we’ve done a lot of thinking about that.

But ultimately, we have to present that to Disney, they have to decide whether they agree with it, and then they have to decide whether it fits into their larger strategy. So all that has to happen after the transaction closes.

Iger has said that he’s going to be investing more in FX and sees it as a vital source of original content for Disney’s direct-to-consumer platforms. How do you see that impacting your relationship with Hulu?

That’s a really good question. To be honest with you, what I can tell you, is that what we’re all singularly focused on at FX is our process and curatorially the FX brand. On the one hand, we’re excited about the possibility of expanding it, so the notion of going into some unscripted programming, for example – which we’ve done some of, “30 Days,” “Black and White,” some things in the past, but very little – having that be a sustained and enduring part of our brand is exciting, because we have a profound level of respect for the level of filmmaking talent, the level of storytelling talent, in those genres.

So that’s really exciting, but we just don’t know, to be honest. All I can tell you is that what we’re interested in doing is continuing to build the FX brand, and what Bob seems to be interested in doing is taking a number of brands that he has invested in and that he respects, and using them as organizing principles inside the larger streaming ambitions of Disney and organizing principles for investing in and making stories.

He’s been really gracious about that, and you know, FX does something that doesn’t exist within the umbrella of the corporate Walt Disney parent. And that’s exciting to us, because we feel like we have a lane that no one else really occupies right now. But exactly how that works with Hulu, I couldn’t tell you.

But it wouldn’t be under the umbrella of Disney Plus and its family-friendly programming? They’ve been fairly clear about brands that would feed into that service.

No. It seems quite clear to me that FX wouldn’t be and shouldn’t be a part of Disney Plus, shouldn’t really be directly associated with the Disney brand. They’re just too different. We’re not a family brand at all, and therefore seems crystal clear it’s going to have to be a component of the Hulu strategy. But exactly how that’s going to work, I can’t tell you.

You talked at some length about FX’s quality-versus-quantity theme in your remarks at TCA. On a lot of your shows, if a creator wants to make more, they can make more, and you’ll work with them on timing. Does that model of working with creators hold up in a world where Disney has an increasingly voracious appetite for content?

Well, I can tell you that we’re going to be working for Disney, so I really can’t speak for them in terms of how their larger strategy and their need will dovetail, but we’ve tried to initiate a lot more.

So I hope we can always take a pause when we need to, when we feel like something’s important qualitatively – I guess all I can tell you is if you look at the way Disney has built its feature business. No feature-film studio in the history of Hollywood has had a batting average even remotely as close to as high as that studio has, and they fundamentally decided to make a lot less movies but put more investment and more time and more energy and more marketing into the ones they make. So every philosophical conversation I’ve had with Iger has been is sympatico, which is that he doesn’t want to just throw things out there and just be really, really focused on quality. It feels actually, really comfortable, from a cultural standpoint.

How much pressure has been put on your ability to recruit talent and maintain creative relationships, given the big deals that we’ve seen for creators such as Ryan Murphy, Shonda Rhimes and Kenya Barris?

What puts pressure on it is the money, to be quite blunt. If you are a profitable corporation or you’re part of a profitable corporation, and you have a standard that every dollar you invest should yield a dollar or more in revenue, and you’re competing against corporations that are fundamentally losing money on a free cash flow basis just keep doubling down on those losses and will lose money for decades if they need to (in order) to get to a different outcome.

Then, there’s just really a different standard when it comes to money. That said, we’ve stepped up when we needed to, even when we had competitive bids coming from one of those others. Again, we’re not trying to corner the market on talent; we’re trying to have enough talent to be able to have this extraordinary brand, and I will say that beyond the money, everything else we offer is way better, because we do less. So we all read everything, we all sit in the room and watch every rough cut, we look at every season of every show.

There’s an attention to detail on each episode on each relationship on each season of each show that can’t be matched by any organization that’s doing a level of volume that’s 35 times greater in terms of volume. You just can’t do it. So there we have an advantage. And so the question is can we get to or close enough to competitive from a financial standpoint that the other advantages kick in.

But I will say this, we don’t miss very often. So on the one hand, it’s difficult for us to match the capital structure of a business that’s losing money, but on the other hand, they spend a lot of capital on things that don’t prove to be creatively or commercially successful, and we spend a small amount of capital on things that don’t prove to be commercially or creatively successful. What we do spend, we spend really, really efficiently.

If your batting average is the focal point of the brand, do you worry, then, about what happens when your volume increases and you inevitably have more misses?

Sure. As I said earlier, it’s not just about some genius in our culture about picking shows. We really, really work on that, and spent so much time debating it and talking about the current state of television – what’s not good and where should things go, and what about this idea and that idea – but it’s really more about the process of what happens after we say yes. It’s about the level of attention to detail and support that people get in that.

And that is not an infinitely scalable process so we can definitely do more, but part of what we’re saying is: We don’t want to compete with any of these platforms on volume. We want to be a brand, and then you have a different question, which is, “What is the optimal scale for a really good broad competitive brand? Do we want to try to be as big as HBO?”

We’ve looked at that really, really carefully. So far, I don’t think we’re even going to ask to match that footprint in terms of scale. I think we’d like to match it in the profusion of genres they program in, although that’s easy to say and hard to do, because you could say you wanted to have a weekly or variety show like John Oliver or Bill Maher, but the truth is, those things come along very, very rarely. Can we sustain a batting average where 13 of our 14 shows make year-end best-of lists, ever year? No. I don’t think anyone could sustain that. And we’ve been at about 80% for five years. I think that’s tough to sustain. But if you look at where our batting average is relative to anyone else, it could fall and still be best in class.

[cyrelia-j]

[Fic] Me Tangere (Jack/Parmak)

Continuing with this since a bug kinda bit me on the pairing. Still for @borg-apologist who I want to give such massive undying thanks to for being so encouraging with this ridiculously self indulgent series. I don't normally do romance but I love this damn sappy over the top gooeyness of this universe and these characters.

Anyway, this is a sequel to Dear Jessie which is from Parmak's POV and can be found HERE

Note: This does feature C132 Parmak (Don’t know what that means? click HERE for the in depth but basically it’s an off canon version who’s different from traditional canon Parmak) and a LOT of headcanon made up stuff.

Summary: Ten years after moving to Cardassia Jack often finds himself reflecting on all the Good things in his life sure to keep his timers for them all. Two and a half kids, one Kelas, and a perfect morning in the garden, and he still can't quite believe it's all real.

Warnings: Fluff to the max, intersex Parmak who's pregnant in this story, talks of Jack's mental, impulse control, anxiety, augment issues, Jack's POV so it's very stream of conscious and Julian still doesn't come off too well because it's Jack's POV, past bad parenting and implied child abuse, Alternate Reality (mainly the same universe but averted Dominion War and some characters meeting under different circumstances), brief sexual content too

So if you wanted a sequel, here's your sequel :)

Juggling was one of the first things that he learned to do when he became aware that he was “different”. His father used to have all sorts of euphemisms that he would use aside from “different”. His father, his mother, any number of black and whites rushing around the busy house like one of the old gala scenes in the movies that he used to enjoy watching. His father would also say that juggling was a Supreme Waste (capitals!) of the gifts that he’d been given and Jack - Jack of all trades he liked to call himself using his middle name instead of the dull old John J”-  said if the old man paid all that money he could do anything he wanted and if he didn’t sleep he’d have more time. The old man didn’t rightly have an answer to that one, Jack winning, counting the score down as he learned to juggle eleven knives at once by the time he was thirteen.

Time, time was something the old man used to rail about. Brevis tui tempu est his old man would drone at him while his mother smiled and told him to listen because the old bastard was very wise. He’d go on about a lot of things often, frequently, all the time Very Loudly until Jack started hiding from him considering the matter of time on one of the high branches of the old oaks where they couldn’t easily reach him; at least not until they cut every one of them down. Jack considered that mutants like him should live longer if anything. But the old man didn’t like his Truths contradicted firing decrees from behind the old mahogany desk like a God himself. That desk was huge, austere, like the old man himself all dark eyebrows, dark eyes, sometimes turning into some giant owl in his vision or morphing to The General telling how some animals were more equal than others.

Jack was more equal than others. Jack was special. Jack was the investment of a lifetime buy sell buy till the old man jumped out the window just like one of those old fat cats in the twentieth century. Didn’t jump so much as pushed but that wasn’t anyone’s business but Jack and God’s and there was no God so it was Jack’s and Jack’s alone, damn right! Ah, amend that amend that, his business was his bondmate’s business too. Bondmate, husband, jailer warden, ah no, Incorrect thought with a capital “I”. Those Incorrect thoughts are fewer and fewer nowadays. Correct thought: Kelas is… everything. Kelas, Jessie, Kiss, and-

“Focus.” Jack hears the child’s voice and looks down, seeing his oldest looking up at him and he sets down all four of the large pots he’s been juggling, one after the other onto the sand. Jessie is nearly five now and is old enough now that ze recognizes when Jack’s mind needs to be tugged back with a small cue; like now. Kelas taught zem that, his brilliant Jessie picking it up so quickly. Correction, he thinks as he looks over to Kelas kneeling in the sand next to Kiss (“Kiss” because Jessie couldn’t say “Kesya” when ze was first born) adding water to the white sand to make a castle little by little. Their  child and Jack’s goddamn genius – is he or isn’t he a mutant little smirk ‘wouldn’t you like to know?’- bondmate is four months pregnant with their third. “Theirs”. That’s the correction that he makes. He’s gotten much better at those Johnny on the spot mental corrections since he met Kelas over ten years ago.

Kelas looks over at him and there’s this soft little smile, this look on his face that’s identical to the one he gave him in the Replimat the day they met, when Jack said he was blind and that Cardassia needed better optometrists if he couldn’t tell the difference between Jack and Julian with those spectacles and... shit... God there’s no God, no proof for God except that smile.  Jack had yelled at him with a jump off the table and Kelas had just laughed and then Jack was right there in his face and he’d stopped and looked down because he was just a little taller than Jack but he could see that Kelas was looking at him not afraid but like somehow Jack’s outburst was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen… I love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else. No, that’s Keats, not God Jesus, Mary, and Joseph same difference!

Jack thrives on the exercise he gets in that sprawling sand garden, succulents and other desert plants like one of the Zen gardens he’s seen pictures of making it a magical place like falling through a looking glass and finding the gardens of Ginkaku-ji on the other end instead of Underland. Well missing most of the coveted trees but he and Kelas and their family have spent years building it beautiful and art brought to life any why couldn’t the old man pay for some natural artistic painting enhancement because he can speak every language he tries to learn but he can’t capture Kelas or his children in more than memories. Ah right, because life isn’t perfect and if it was it would be dull and Jack is Absolutely not dull. He’s the Best Daddy as Jessie says and Kiss repeats and their children aren’t liars so that’s that. Every morning he’s out here barefoot in his loose trousers -how novel is that for him of all people not to be wearing a shirt?- with katas, with tumbles, sweat drenched before the sun is too high and his pale skin in has to be doused and drenched in sunscreen. Jack hatessunscreen.

He usually walks around the city with his big black UV umbrella.

Sometimes Jessie likes to drag the rake through the sand to make the patterns in the sand of the shared garden; this one is more secluded, closer to their modest dwelling than the others. Sometimes ze and Kiss fight over the rake; sometimes Jack joins in too though more often than not Kelas thwaps his shoulder with a book and tells him playfully to behave. Kelas will raise the big tome kissing him long and sweetly behind it, those full lips begging to be bitten ‘til they’re flushed dark gray, It’s one of many games they like to play, kissing until one or both kids yell “Aha!” declaring they’ve been spotted. They laugh when the book lowers and Jack is red and Kelas is just beaming with his glasses half askew. They have endless ridiculous little games they play and Jack is always amazed by how Good this is. Jack doesn’t remember his parents ever… doesn’t remember old George and Martha ever… old swampy ever being anything but cold to each other snip snap at the table clattering spoons and little presses of napkins to mouths.

“Right here, Jessie Jess mmhm. Your turn?” he asks going to one knee, letting himself be knocked backwards when ze yells “yes!” because they’re outdoors and outdoors they can be loud as they want. He gives a good dramatic death yell as his back hits the ground, holding his baby close a moment as he falls. Almost five, Jessie always corrects him, not a baby, Four years nine months nine days ten hours five minutes three seconds... and Jack watches his mouth, ensuring that any kisses are Cardassian presses of two quick fingers – index and middle – to each other. Things around his mouth make Jack anxious because he wants to nip and that leads to gnawing, to biting and that’s only acceptable if it’s Kelas.

Sometimes Kiss or Jessie will give him little nips to the rings on his fingers to show affection and he… doesn’t know how he feels about that because it’s special and theirs but it’s not typical as Bashir says with those castigating hidden expressions that he thinks that Jack can’t see just like he says it isn’t healthy for them to see the marks and the blood when he and Kelas kiss hard but they don’t get upset, they only laugh at how silly yadek and his red mouth look and… and Jack is Careful, always careful with the two of them because he would sooner die than hurt them and Kelas will tell him that he’s too most conscientious delicate and it isn’t necessary to self-flagellate and if he doesn’t knock it off he’s going to start calling him “Dimmesdale” which is absurd because Kelas is no Hester Prynne in any sense of the character and he should understand that  it absolutely is necessary to be careful because he broke too many children when he was a child even if he didn’t mean it and-

“Focus.” Jessie repeats, this time with a tap to his nose giving him a terribly weighty look; Jessie takes “helping daddy fix his head” very seriously. Jack blinks and nods. That’s a very serious second warning there!

“Right! We’re going upside down today hm hm?” Jessie nods excited, scampering off him, jumping at Jack the moment he stands back up. Jack catches zem easily around the waist, his baby a little monkey climbing up his shoulders. The air on Cardassia brings him alive even if it is warmer than he’s used to. Kelas says with a face, a precious Kelas face that he makes when something irritates him - cute, so cute will always be adorable a hundred two hundred, Jack doesn’t care - that the air of Nokar is the purest most amazing smell. He knows that Kelas still thinks about going back, away from Central, away from the southern continents to the Steppe, to the cold and Jack thinks it’s the funniest thing that a Cardassian would long for the cold but he understands it’s so much more than that.

Kelas is a misfit, a mutant too but a damn perfect one and Jack will fight anyone who disagrees.

But for all the stares and the whispers - which he can hear, always hear with his enhanced hearing - Jack has never found a place more of a home than on Cardassia Prime. Bashir, passing normal Federation mutt, Bashir asked him if he didn’t miss all the comforts of the Federation, the food, the culture, the people who didn’t glare or condescend and a list that went on and Jack had an epiphany. It was brilliant. He wrote it down he was pleased, he read it to Kelas, he read it to Lauren and Patrick and Sarina and a full audience around an evening bonfire to cheers and chirps in fact. Bashir wasn’t a mutant passing as normal, he was a basic passing as One of Them. Jack didn’t read it to Bashir because Bashir wouldn’t get it and the hell with him anyway! Jack didn’t have a lifetime of Federation comforts. He had a prison, he had walls and bars and “do this do that step jump sit behave be Normal!” He had a lifetime of people backing away from him making the sign of the damn cross and ha joke’s on them, mutants aren’t vampires and he could still bite throats out no matter how much garlic they used!

Jack grins big, wide, toothy, vicious as he wants when he looks at his children, when he looks at his Kelas and there’s nothing, no drug, no “Federation comforts” no religion, nothing that could ever bring him the high that their fearless answering smiles brings him. He walks through the streets with every damn one of these Cardassian Morlocks meeting him with a level stare, a sneer, a challenge to prove that he’s their equal. They challenge him when he recites his poetry. They aren’t afraid to shove at him in the crowded markets. They’re not afraid of confrontation, they revel in it, every Sunday morning Jack going into the city to argue with the same old woman selling flowers about every damn thing in the world and no shrinking back when he’s loud, no “shut up” no “behave” no belts no smacks to the mouth nothing but the same irritated arguments that they fling at each other.

Jack keeps grinning like a damn idiot as he looks up, feeling Jessie putting small hands in his ready to be raised up to the top of Mount Parnassus to meet the fabled muses. Jack can see a bit of a tremble of zes arms, but he shouts encouragement, a babbling string at his little hatchling - Kelas says “hatchling” though not properly hatched but that’s pedantic so shut up Jack! - turns himself upside down, holding a count of five before ze flops, Jack catching zem easily, the both of them laughing. It’s a life he never dreamed that he could have and no amount of holofeeds of the “successful augment doctor” like old technicolor popcorn matinee propaganda reels could ever convince him that he and that stupid smiling thing would ever be the same. As long as he lives, Julian will never know what it’s like to have people afraid of him and fuck him anyway. The sharp sound of a clap catches his sensitive ears, head jerking, that instinct relaxing in a split second seeing Kelas applauding him.

Applause isn’t a Cardassian custom, occasionally chirrups or a stamp of feet signify massive approval but Kelas thought the gesture was novel when he learned of it and Jack sees Kiss following along after him when he sets Jessie down. His children love “doing acrobatics with Daddy” and he’s just in awe of how far ahead their development is without being augmented. He teaches the children in their little community they’ve built too and he’s not just biased when he says that Kiss and Jessie are the best of the excitable lot.

“That’s my Jessie Jess hm! Shoot off the guns like Buffalo Bill! There’s a cowboy hm hm! We’ll have you swallowing swords for Emperor Wu mmhm!”

“Ze’s going to be a doctor!” Kelas calls out emphatically with that irritated face.

“Then an acrobat doctor hm. Think if the money you’d pull in adding a few flips to your routine hm. Climb that Bashir beanstalk like a diving board hm hm hop skip splash!”

“Splash!” That’s from Kiss before diving into the half-finished sand castle an explosion of wet sand everywhere on both zem and Kelas. Kelas laughs even as he spits out a mouthful of sand.

“Ah, right, definitely sticking with my usual practice, I think,” he says brushing sand from his lap.

Jack is sure that his face hurts from smiling, Jessie running past him bowling clear into the mess, into Kiss with a yell of “Splash!” the two tumbling around with their little growls play fighting, a little tinkling of beads reaching his ears too as they clank together. Jessie is slim, all limbs like Kelas, a wiry little worm as the two of them wrestle. It seems that Kiss will take after him, stockier, strong - nearly as strong as Jessie at three years six months fifteen days five hours nineteen minutes three seconds. His head is a constant count of every moment of their lives because every atomic second passing by is one that he wants to be thankful for. Kelas suggested that when he told him about the constant numbers and figures and unwanted thought intrusions that he might fill the space with everything positive in his life that he wants to track instead- fill his head so full to bursting that there isn’t room for anything else. So he does.

His head is full of clocks of all colors, shapes, appearance, a clock to count his children’s’ ages, to track the time since he and Kelas met, the time since number three (working title “Seska” still in progress”) was conceived, the time since the community where they live was completed, the time since their petition was approved for Lauren, Patrick, and Sarina to be remanded to their care (take that Nursed Ratched!), and at least half a dozen other events, tracking, counting, numbers flashing but these are Good numbers. Good numbers, good thoughts, his mind is usually a jumble of thoughts, numbers, followed by blinking impulses, little hands that pull at his limbs, his arms and legs, his mouth and make his body sometimes act outside his thoughts. It’s those impulses that he knows make Bashir say that he’s unpredictable and Dangerous and sometimes those thoughts intrude and lock him still afraid to act at all until he can pull himself out of it.

He has one now but it’s not a violent one. He hasn’t had a violent one in years and that one had a very specific trigger. That one was Elim Garak and wasn’t his fault no matter what Bashir said. That was one of the worst ones. That was one of the last ones and Not His Fault! It was Garak. It was Garak’s fault and Jack hates that Bashir thinks it’s some alpha male posturing poppycock that’s completely beneath him but according to Kelas it’s not on his place to speak to Bashir on the wicked devil that he takes to his bed. (Le Démon ! - c'est un Démon, vous savez, ce n'est pas un homme.-that’s Rimbaud predicting the wicked Morlock centuries in advance!). Anyone who scares his Kelas like that… anyone who causes his Kelas to flinch like that, anyone who makes that flash of fear cloud over his eyes is a devil no ifs and or buts and they’re dead!

The first time that he saw Kelas look at Garak, stop, panic, swallow and nearly take a step back terrified he lost it. Jack blanked out. He didn’t think at all. His hand was already moving for Garak’s throat by the time Bashir had tackled him because Bashir wasn’t as fast as him or as strong as him and if it wasn’t for Kelas asking him softly to please forgive it they’d see just how dangerous an augment that he was because no one including him hurts the family he went through hell to have. They used to tell him that he didn’t have empathy, that he was a monster incapable of understanding other people and he almost, almost believed them, but if Frankenstein’s creature wasn’t a monster, if Jack could weep silently, his head buried in Kelas’ lap when Kelas told him softly what Garak’s old iron monkey on his back, what his old man had done that had made him have that fear then he... no... no bad thoughts, not now. This is a Good place and a Good day and those thoughts are banished.

When Jack has that unconscious impulse now it’s to join in that raucous and he turns to Kelas, seeing him shaking the sand off the top of the long sleeveless tunic he’s wearing. meeting Jack’s eyes a moment.

“Splash,” Jack says in a rush and he catches those blue almost violet eyes widen in surprise and his mind would yell at him careful careful but he’s already moving with his hands on Kelas’ shoulders pushing him back to the sand. His mind corrects, his enhanced reflexes able to catch up with that recrimination that caution he’s pregnant he’s old he’s delicate he’s… laughing as Jack lands on top of him. Kelas is laughing loudly.

“Ah I should have known you were going to wait until the sand was gone. You always love getting me dirty!” He exclaims with a laugh as Jack in a rush of expelled nerves puts his face into Kelas’ neck sure he’s getting sand in his own hair now.

Kelas reminds him at least twice a day that he won’t hurt him- that he may be over a hundred but that doesn’t quite mean the same in their years and in any case their skeletons are more dense and durable. Sometimes he demonstrates it. Sometimes Jack even believes him. Jack turns his face about to say something to that but Kelas is already turning, kissing him silly, breathless, swearing at him in that melodic Northern tongue that’s like a slip of hisses, or angry snakes circling his ears.

“…sorry,” he says instinctively because sorry is what they always told him to say when he Did Something and he said it so much he used to like to see how much of a curse he could put behind those words.

“No you’re not,” Kelas mutters, trying not to smile, his hands sliding sandy, gritty over Jack’s sticky sweaty back holding him there on top before Jack can scramble off. “Mmm but that’s alright, I think your punishment should be to finish what you started.”

“Yadek has one baby you can’t give him one yet, Daddy!” he hears Jessie yelling at him and that only makes Kelas laugh even louder, the lines around his eyes crinkling, ridges flushing darker as he just… smiles up at Jack.

“Ah well… perhaps we’ll have to wait then,” Kelas says not moving his hands from Jack’s back in the slightest. His hands are strong, slightly calloused with the work that he does in the lab with Lauren now. He kneads at the muscles with determination and Jack feels like he might pool into goo dripping, soaking into the sand or into Kelas. That’s an idea- totally perfect idea.

“That right hm? No making new babies til this one’s done hm hm?”

“Can’t have two at once,” Jessie confirms terribly seriously. Jack smiles while Kelas keeps kneading at his back. Well, his little hatchling may have a numerical point but there’s always room for more practice because number three took so long it surely was because they hadn’t practiced enough and number four… ah impractical meandering illogical thoughts but-

“Maybe if we make you into an ovipositor... I bet Sarina could do it,” He hears Lauren’s voice and doesn’t ask how long she’s been standing there because Lauren is like the wind flitting in, out, hot, cold, but always there in some form. He doesn’t say that she’s like his sister but he hears their neighbors calling her that without correction and it’s strange but it’s Good and there’s a counter running for the first time someone called her his sister: three years two months five days four hours eighteen minutes thirty four seconds…

“An ovipositor? Ha! You couldn’t make a Kranessan fly hm!” The Kranessans, he learned were famed for their elaborate zip lines through the mountain passes.

“And you couldn’t make old Jala a rich woman if you tried,” she fires back with an arch of her eyebrow holding out her only to have Jessie and Kiss rush past her towards their house. She shrugs with a sigh. “I’ll see that they get to their lesson. Mr. Gok is teaching today and…” She pauses there, letting the old familiar rejoinder slip away unsaid. It’s become more of a small joke between them now.

There’s buzzing that Jack hears just then and he watches as a large dragonfly double wings gold, glistening in the sunlight as it hovers into the yard. Ah, right the little attendance drone, one of Patricks dozens of creations flying, beeping, walking around their compound. The newly elected council’s relaxed restrictions on sedition and unlawful assembly years back were what allowed him and Kelas to work tirelessly into one of the first communal living spaces outside of Central. There were more that had cropped up always monitored for radicals but as more sprang up, as more shared spaces came with their family dining halls and sand gardens and families sharing the grounds outside their modest homes, the more accepted they were.

Ah acceptable as Northerner and outcast refuse but there was no better refuse and no better life and Jack reaches up to sign off on the PADD the dragonfly is holding that Jessie and Kiss will be in class today outside with the other children. He snorts thinking of old Jala and older Gisha (and how Kelas always gets so hotly indignant when he calls them that saying they’re hardly older than he is) always hovering around chattering whenever he and Kelas make love. He’s heard them over stone walls, through fences, once catching their eyes with a curious blink before they waved him on and that… isn’t Normal, he thinks but he sometimes catches other couples or other triads outside their homes together in some partly secluded space with little mind paid. Sometimes he’ll hear a rattle of beads and he can always tell when Jala and Gisha are jabbering at each other about whether it’s better or worse for fertility if one is silent or loud. Jala thinks silent. Gisha thinks loud.

Kelas is always loud and Lauren says the two of them have a bet each time on which it will be.

Jala has yet to win once, and Lauren lets them know she has her data prepared whenever Kelas is ready to go over their new formulations for perfume tonics they’ve devised – fragrant and flavorful particles that confer different effects when “scented” from the air. Kelas looks thoughtful as he hooks an ankle around the small of Jack’s back, pushing that swollen belly up against him completely undoing him.

“Thirty minutes should be enough,” he hears Kelas say thinking sand is a challenge and rough and irritating and sand is nice beneath his bare feet but a cruel menace elsewhere and his hands are already beneath Kelas’ hip with a hurried murmur of “other leg other leg,” getting to his knees. Kelas wrapping around him like a beautiful pale vine, his hair half out of it braid, those glasses already mussed. Jack thinks he hears some impressed click from the other side of the wood fence marveling at his augmented strength.

He prefers to take it slow, to savor every touch, every press of Kelas’ mouth to his chest, every sigh, every push into Kelas’ body and Kelas into his too. Time is short, so short but the longer he can drag every perceived moment out, the closer to immortality in a beautiful vacuum where seconds aren’t ticks but instead Kelas’ breaths and slow steady beats of his heart. Ah, but now time is a rush and it always surprises him how excited his body is for Kelas in ways it is for nothing else.  Ah, the old women think they’ve seen strength? They haven’t seen anything, Jack holding that full weight with one arm now panting, quickly tugging himself free from trousers, from undergarments. Kelas is already whining as Jack starts biting his shoulder ridges hitching the hem of his tunic up with that free hand, Kelas squirming into position, a loud breathy cry when Jack enters him halfway, readjusts with both hands on his ass like he weighs nothing, driving right deep to his center.

And for that moment, time stops.

[amidalogicdive]

Permission

Title: Permission

Rating: General Audiences Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Relationship: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Nyx Ulric Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum, Nyx Ulric, Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII, Yama-chan Additional Tags: First Love, First Dates, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Disaster Date, good food, Mutual Pining, Dorks in Love, Asking Permission, Kissing, Cuddling & Snuggling

Ao3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12515232

OCT. 26 - Dates: First Dates

-

In his many years as a Kingsglaive, Nyx had seen this room more times than he could count. He knew every corner, secret entrance and potential point of attack that existed. It was his job, his duty, and the glaive was proud of the heights he’d reached over the years. So, if someone had told him a year ago he’d be standing before the king for a personal matter, he wouldn’t have believed it. But here he was, back ramrod straight, hands clenching together at the small of his back as he glanced up at his Monarch. Nyx cleared his throat, trying to hold his gaze, praying to the Six that he wouldn’t sound as nervous as he felt once he opened his mouth. As for King Regis, the man who’d saved his life, he simply watched him with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

“Sir Ulric?” The glaive visibly jumped as his name echoed in the long corridor. “You requested this audience, and yet it seems you have not the words to speak?” His tone was tender, the laughter he wouldn’t voice, obvious in the creases and wrinkles around his green eyes.

Regis was a good man, a kind man, and always had been. Yet as Nyx stood there in the throne room looking up at his King, a legitimate feared for his existence washed through him. If the king wanted, he could easily have him beheaded or make him disappear, and no one would be the wiser. For a moment Nyx brain tried to talk some sense into him, reminding him that Insomnia didn’t behead people. Nyx told that sensible side of him to go jump off the fucking Wall. “I'm sorry Your Majesty, Sir." Yep, he sounded nervous. "Well, you see, I've... I have come here asking for your permission."

Leaning on his cane a bit more than I necessary, Regis shifted in his seat. “Permission?” The King knew Nyx well, and it wasn’t due to the flood of reports that Drautos sent about the rebellious warrior. Nyx was loyal, honest, and a good glaive who he’d trusted enough to train his own son. He also knew Nyx would never set up an audience for mere favors, so Regis knew this was important. “Nyx Ulric," Smiling, he tried to calm the glaive before him as he spoke. "you are a good man who has done much for Insomnia, for the throne. There is little I would deny you. Come now, feel free to speak your mind, we shall see if naught can be done."

“Thank you, Majesty. I just wanted this done the right way.” While he felt honored by the words; inside he was just praying he wouldn’t be struck down by the King’s own magic the moment his request was voiced. “Your Majesty," Mustering what little courage he had the moment, Nyx took a deep breath and... well took the plunge. "I would like to officially ask your permission to take your son out on a date.”

“A date?" Regis could honestly say he hadn't been expecting that from the glaive before him. "Date. Oh..." His eyes widened. "So there is... oh my. I see.”

Swallowing hard, Nyx knew what was coming, and his brain couldn’t help but repeat it like a mantra in his head: 'Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m a dead man. I’m gonna be burned to a crisp all for the love of a little brat.' Closing his eyes, Nyx waited for the hammer to fall and put him out of his misery.

It would be days before Nyx would see Noctis again…

-

“Nyx!” The glaive glanced up from the documents in his hand, smiling as the young heir of Lucis ran across the arena towards him. "Sorry, I'm late. Overslept."

“No worries little prince, did you enjoy your trip out to Wiz's with Prompto?"

Noctis shrugged, grabbing the edge of the half wall Nyx was currently leaning against and pulled himself up. "Yeah, I guess so. It's definitely more of a Prom thing, the whole chocobo obsession. I mean, it was nice, we got to hang and his mom paid for the trip so we rented the caravan right at the outpost." Ocean depths met his own icy orbs as the prince smiled. "So, yeah I enjoyed it because he did. Well that and neither of us get out of the city much, so it was a nice change."

"I'm sure it was."

"Oh, I got some fishing in too." Hitting his boots against the wall, Noctis nudged his shoulder into the glaives. "Brought you home some fish I caught, so yeah, overall I can't really complain.”

“Fishing? You must have been in heaven, and thank you for thinking about me, little prince. ” He nodded, eyes shifting to look around the arena for a moment. Seeming content to find they were alone, Noctis leaned over and placed a kiss to his lips. Nyx returned it, tasting a flavor that was sweet and uniquely - his Noctis. "Mm, I missed you too."

"Better have, glaive." Leaning back on his hands, Noctis let out a sigh. "Would have been a nicer trip if you'd come with us. Iggy is fine, but he's just... overly cautious about everything." Brushing his hands off on his pants a moment later, pale fingers wrapped around ashen braids as his eyes roamed over the glaive. "I really hate that training is the only time we can find to be together. That, or I have to sneak out just to have coffee with you."

Smirking at those words, Nyx leaned into the touch and placed a kiss to his jaw. "Then how about a real date? You, me, and a whole night to ourselves? Does that sounds nice, my little love?"

"Sounds great, but how are we pulling that miracle off, Nyx?"

"Well, while you were gone I asked your dad. Some home I survived his protective wrath and he said yes."

"Wait, you asked my dad? You told my dad about us?!"

Nyx couldn't stop chuckling at the look on Noctis' face as he nudged his way between his legs. "I told your dad I wanted to do this right." Wrapping his arms around the prince's waist, Nyx placed another kiss to his jaw. "I asked him if I could take you on a date. Surprisingly, he was ok with it, and permitted me to ask you."

"Permitted, huh? Kinda a big word for you there, glaive."

The comment was teasing, and still, Nyx couldn't help but pull him down for a proper kiss. Not that he would admit it to Noctis, but it was kinda addicted to the brat. "Gotta impress your dad somehow," He whispered, pulling back slightly. "The six know my track record with Drautos isn't gonna do shit for me."

"Mm, very true." Wrapping his legs around the glaives waist, Noct's hand rose, his thumb running over the crow's foot tattoo on his cheek. "So, a real date?"

"Yeah, a real date. Anything you want, I'll make it happen; that is if you say yes?" A small nod and a kiss signified his answer. When they pulled apart, Nyx couldn't help but lick his lips and grin. Yep, no doubt, undeniably addicted to Noctis. "So, what'll it be?"

There was a flash of uncertainty, "Your place? I want you to cook for me, real traditional Galahdian food." Agreeing to the terms, the prince's face lit up with delight. "Friday night? Nothing's going on Saturday... so maybe I can even stay over?"

"That sounds amazing, baby."

"Well then, glaive;" Resting his forehead against Nyx own, Noctis smiled. "I leave it to you."

-

Friday morning had come, and Nyx had planned every moment of the day out. He'd wanted everything to be perfect because Noctis didn't really deserve less than that. Unfortunately, as Nyx knew more than well, plans fell through and there was nothing that could be done about it.

The first sign that this day would not go as planned he'd been on his way to the markets. Nyx should have ignored the phone when it started to ring, but he was a man of duty, after all. Turned out that Drautos had called an emergency meeting, all were required to attend, no excuses. Cussing all the way to the Kingsglaive compound, he was less than pleased when it was just a change to routine and policy that could have waited. Some stupid paperwork had taken two hours to complete, that he could have easily done Monday. Once they had finished with the mandatory meeting, which Nyx had partially used to plot out his revenge against the Captain, he dashed for the door only to be met with a wall of water. A literal downpour had descended upon the Capital City. Cursing his awful luck, Nyx ran for his apartment, making it there in under ten minutes and only half drenched.

Despite the lost hours, Nyx felt he could still make this work and give Noctis the date he deserved. Pulling the meat from the fridge, he went to grab the spices and remembered he'd never made it to the market. The last-minute meeting and rainstorm had thrown him off, and he could only blame himself for overlooking the needed trip. So there the glave stood, half drenched in the middle of his tiny kitchen, meat ready to cook and missing half the supplies he'd meant to get earlier. Nyx knew he had to salvage this mess of a situation, and fast.

So, Nyx did what any logical person would do in this situation: Nyx improvised. Now, this might have worked in his favor if he hadn't of walked off for a few minutes to take a quick shower and change. A few minutes that saw the makeshift sauce that he'd tossed together start to burn. By the time Nyx had noticed what was happening, half the meat was overcooked and burnt to a crispy black, the rest was still half raw. He had no idea how it had happened but knew dinner was off the table, literally.

There was nothing he could do to salvage the mess he'd made, he knew this. Nyx also knew that Noctis would be showing up at his door in roughly thirty minutes. There was only one thing he could do at this point that might save this date. Grabbing an umbrella, Nyx made his way up the stairs from his apartment and to the small road above. He already knew he'd owe the prince a wonderful second date, so if he couldn't cook Galahdian, he'd buy it. A few blocks from his home he’d found his destination, taking the stairs down to the eatery two at a time.

“Yama-chan, I need your help.” The man arched a brow, looking at the glaive who was standing before him somewhat flushed and out of breath. “Look I got a date, no, it’s not just a date. It’s a big deal date. I was supposed to cook and all this shit happened. Now I have,” He looked at his watch for a second. “Fuck, twenty minutes to make this work and they want Galahdian. Real Galahdian and I know you half-ass it for the people around here but, please help me?”

“Ok, ok.” The man behind the counter thought for a moment, nodding and then kneeled down to pull out a few things. “I just happened to have some stuff here, let me see what I can do. Take a seat.” Nyx did as he was told, mostly because Yama-chan looked like he would kill him if he didn't. Taking a deep breath, he waited while praying to every god that his people; and Insomnia, believed in that this would work out for the best. It was ten minutes later when the cook waved him over and smiled. “Look I had some of the seasonings from my house here, it’s about as traditional as I can get without being in Galahd. Good luck, you owe me a story on how it went."

”You are a lifesaver, my friend!“ A quick check of his watch and Nyx knew he had just enough time to make it home and possibly get set up before Noctis arrived. Dashing up the stairs, he finally felt like everything would work in his favor - but the Astrals were cruel creatures. Turning the corner, Nyx ran right into another pedestrian, knocking them to the ground. Thankfully the food hadn’t been dropped, which made him breathe out in relief. ”Shit, I’m sorry. I’m in a rush and didn't see..." As he spoke, Nyx looked down to help the stranger, pale eyes widened in recognition. ”Oh fuck.“

Unmistakable sapphire eyes met his own, a scowl forming on the young man's face as he reached up to accept the help. "Nyx, what the hell?" Noctis. Of course, it had been Noctis, and he hadn't just fallen. Nyx had knocked him back into a puddle of mud that had gathered near the edge of the walkway.

"Baby, shit. I’m so, so sorry." Shifting the umbrella and food into one hand, he assisted the prince with the other. "I'm, I just I was... rushing to meet... you." Knowing that the day couldn't get any worse, Nyx stood there and held the umbrella over them both. Though, for Noctis, it was pointless since he'd been soaked in muddy water. Rubbing his hands off on the front of his shirt, the prince shook his head. "Sorry, it's just been a really bad day and now I've dragged you into it. Everything's going wrong, and I," Sighing, Nyx rubbed the back of his neck. "I wanted this to be special."

Dark eyes glanced up to meet his own, cupping his cheek. ”Nyx, you don't have to try so hard. I already love you. All I need is you, that makes me happy." Acknowledging the words with a nod, Noctis stood on his toes to kiss him. "Now, please take me to your place. I need a shower and a warm change of clothes."

”Yeah. Come on, Little Prince.“

That was how the supposed perfect first date ended with Noctis in the glaives oversized sleeping clothes, and the two curled up under the covers of Nyx bed. Beside them was a tray with take-out Galahdian, a roll of paper towels and a few bottles of cheap beer. Noctis seems perfectly content, curled up against his boyfriend as they watched some stupid Insomnian reality show on the television across the way and ate.

Taking a bite from one of the skewers, Nyx had to admit that Yaya-chan did a damn good job on the food. Feeling a kiss pressed to his cheek, he looked at the prince curled up against him. "What was that for?"

"Mm," Noctis cuddled a bit closer to him and laid his head on the glaives shoulder. "this might not be what you wanted, or what I expected; but this is pretty close to perfect. Thank you, Nyx.“

A grin pulled at the corner of his lips, laying his cheek against Noct’s hair. "You're welcome, love."

Yes, everything was perfect, even if nothing had gone as intended. They were together, enjoying one another's presence and the peacefulness of the evening. In the end that was all that mattered, right? They were together.

"You know you owe me another date to make up for this, right?" While it was said as a joke, Nyx couldn't help but agree.

”Yep, completely.”

[topicprinter]

I’ve been a longtime lurker on this sub, doing extensive research through this community, almost to a detriment. I was, shit...I suppose I still am, a bit scatterbrained and easily enticed by the successes of others on this sub. I was stuck in analysis paralysis for…..longer than I’d like to admit, and to be frank I put myself into a position where I no longer could afford the investment capital needed to spend on any physical product. At that point, I decided to shuffle my feet forward and make progress towards my goal of starting a successful business.My experience working for an ad agency helped me refine my skills and introduced me to some really talented people I could use as resources. Sweet, I thought, I’ll start a digital agency.FUCK. This was A LOT harder than any post made it seem, that’s for fucking sure.Like most agencies starting out, I wasn’t sure whether to attack a specific service and limit my opportunities, or cast a wide net by being a full service. I soon realized I didn’t have the resources to compete with full service agencies and decided to focus on the two things I was good at, and figure the rest out as business came in.I decided to focus on SEO, web design, and E-commerce consulting since they were the areas I was most confident I could bring value to a client. After exhausting my network, I decided to do cold calls. When I first started making calls, I wasn’t sure which service I should try to sell first so I did some testing the process. I called hundreds of businesses selling them on the benefits of a site redesign. This was SUPER difficult. With all the web page builders out there and all the cheap labor available on places like upwork/fiver, I really had to sell my technical abilities and customer service.I knew I needed to refine my approach. There’s a million designers out there, how could I really separate myself from the pack without lowering my prices? There’s no way I could compete with those kids abroad.I changed my approach and decided to start calling as a marketing firm. I used this approach because ‘marketing’ is a very broad term, and a lot of services fall under the umbrella. I would do some research on the company beforehand and only call companies who I knew I could help, low hanging fruit if you will. I’d initially send them over a custom (somewhat custom) marketing proposal. Yes, some of you will say it’s spamming, and it kinda is, but when you put together a 30 page custom branded proposal, you’re bound to see more open rates. After sending them an email, I would wait a day or two and call the office often asking for the owner/manager by first name only, sometimes even in a nickname I think they might go by. Only do this when an assistant answers of course.* A lot of times I would get asked to leave a message, which I never do because they’ll never call me back. I am always friendly with the person on the phone and most of the time they are willing to tell me the best time of the day/week to call to most likely get them available.I’d start off the conversation like this… “Hey Name, I found you through the chamber of commerce (found this tip in another thread, awesome because it shows your a local and someone involved in the community), and wanted to reach out. We’re a boutique marketing firm specializing in content marketing and SEO, I’m sure you get bothered my these types of calls all the time, and I’m sorry, but I’m just doing my due diligence in trying to grow a reputable company and thought your business would be a perfect fit for a case study for our business. I know you’re probably busy so I’m happy to drop by the office for a quick introduction to show you how we can help your business gain more traction. Do you have a 15 minute opening next week? I would also follow up by suggesting a specific time/date, leaving this up to them means nothing will ever happen in my experience. Something like...How does Thursday or Friday sound? Great, would the afternoon work best? How does 4 or 5 sound to you? That sorta thing I’ll usually end the convo by saying something along the lines of...Let’s meet either way, I’d love to build relationships with local business owners. I phrase it in a way that makes it seem like I am much more interested in their relationship than I am their business. I’m honest about it though, I am interested in meeting new people/friends as much as I am about getting new business, so either way it’s a win for me. People have to realize that not everyone you contact wants/needs your business, but that’s still not a wasted opportunity. The more you grow your network, the more you can leverage it. I’ve formed a few relationships through cold calling that have led to business down the line one way or another, use these people as resource!Once I’m in the office and I go over my presentation, I mention if they’ve given any consideration to redesigning their website considering it’s a crucial element in the ecosystem. What good is SEO if the site looks untrustworthy, and vice versa, what good is a nice looking site if there isn’t any traffic? Most of the time this ends in us closing a deal on web design and SEO services, with data consulting something we just recently started upselling, even though I hate upselling...I hope that was somewhat helpful to some of you….Don’t let the outside noise in, just focus on you. You’ll probably never find the PERFECT idea, just pick something and devote yourself 100%. Don’t think of selling services to clients, think of ways you can provide VALUE. Otherwise you’re just another shitty Web/SEO person screwing over clients for short term gain and making it difficult for real professionals in the field! People are trusting you, don’t fuck them, eventually it will come back around…Thanks to the people who put in the time to provide insightful info to us readers out there!Cheers.