#..... most obviously we have differences but differences and all it turns out. contrary to the western Youre Born Alone You Die Alone Bro

[huggybearhughes43]

would you write a nico and quinn x reader smut by any chance

Manager

Quinn Hughes and Nico Hischier x Fem! Reader

Warnings- smut, PinV, anal, hickeys, cum eating, oral (fem! Receiving), threesome

Summary- The manager from the New Jersey Devils is invited to celebrate the devils win with Nico but her best friend who happens to be the captain of the losing team wants to find comfort in her. When they all go to Nico’s, the boys have a different idea on what to do.

Word count- 3.2k

The sounds of blades against ice fills my ears as I attempt to scribble something down for my team. The score was 3-0 and it was only the second period, devils were winning of course. I could see clearly from across the ice that Quinn Hughes was fuming. Not only was his team losing but he was losing against his two little brothers. On the contrary, I look to my left and see Nico Hischier all sweaty and smiley. I laugh softly, moving to let him back on the ice. I only zone out for a moment until I’m brought back with the buzzer and cheers, my eyes focus on Quinn who has his head in his hands and I can already tell who scored.

The game finishes up with a devils win. I’ve already been friends with Quinn since I was a kid, his brothers were the reason I’d joined managing the devils team. It would’ve been the Canucks if it wasn’t 1/3 brothers there. The devils do their celebration on the ice and I take it as my queue to wait by the entrance of the locker room for them. As each one passes me they pat me on the back. Nico approaches lastly with a huge shit eating grin on his face, “you see that, y/n?” He nearly cheers. “You did good, Neeks.” He pat his back and turn to face him as he speaks, “hey, you wanna come over later? Celebrate maybe? We can have a few drinks or like I dunno.” He shrugs.

I smile and nod, “sure.” He doesn’t say another word as he happily makes his way into the locker room. I put my note pad in my purse and I walk to my office. The rink was nearly cleared out, silence filling the air. The second I sit down in my office chair a knock echoes on the door. “It’s open.” I speak out, expecting Nico to be at the door. My eyebrows furrow when I see the all too familiar face of Quinn Hughes. “Isn’t your team leaving right now?” He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, “I’ll meet them at the airport tomorrow or something.” He shrugs.

“So… why’re you here?” “Figured you’d be the person to go to when I’m stressed.” “Quinn…” he looks up with a surprised expression and laughs in a dull tone, “I didn’t mean it like that,” he pauses, “unless you’re offering.” “Quinn, Nico invited me to hang out at his place- I just-“ I’m cut off my a roll of Quinns eyes. “Nico this, Nico that, Nico is so fucking amazing.” He mocks bitterly, obviously still pissed off about the game. “Quinn…” I pout softly and lean back into my seat. He huffs and takes a step back, “I’m sorry for bothering you, I’ll just go-“ “Quinn” I repeat and stand up with a sigh.

“He wants to celebrate…” I whisper with a sorry look in my eyes. “Of course he does.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’ll talk to him… stay here.” I feel a sudden ache in my heard for his hurtness. I walk past him and out the door, heading towards the locker room. I turn and run straight into a hard chest. I look up and step back, scratching my neck. “Sorry, Nico…” he smiles, “don’t be sorry” he assures in the accent that could make any girl weak in the knees. Nico knew that Quinn and I were friends and I knew Nico was the most understanding person ever… “Quinn is really upset-“ Nico’s smile falters but doesn’t go away, “He wants to spend time with you? Make himself feel better?” “I guess so, I just- I dunno I don’t wanna leave you but he’s really upset.”

“He can come over to my place” “I don’t think he’d like to celebrate his own loss” Nico laughs softly and shakes his head, “We don’t have to celebrate. We can watch a movie or something, maybe?” I smile at Nico, admiring how quick he was to include Quinn. “I- well, come with me.” I motion for him to follow me and he does. I go back into my office to see Quinn waiting in my desk chair. “Wanna go watch a movie at Nico’s place?” Before Quinn could respond, Nico appears just over my shoulder. Quinn shrugs, “I guess so.” He stands and I smile, I knew he would’ve preferred us to be alone but I figured he’d understand since the both of them wanted to spend time with me.

I tap on my steering wheel softly to the beat of whatever was playing on my radio all the way until I get to Nico’s place that I knew the directions all too well to. Quinn and I follow Nico inside his house. Quinn had never been here but of course I have, I lead Quinn to Nico’s couch. “Beds more comfortable,” Nico says from the kitchen in which he was getting a drink for each of us. I peer over at Quinn, wanting to know what he thought of it. “Do you want to?” He asks and I shrug “only if you wanna.” He smiles weakly, “I guess I’m okay with it.”

I grab Quinn’s hand and bring him to Nico’s bedroom that I hadn’t been in very many times. I plop myself right into the middle of the bed, Quinn taking his shoes off beside the bed before laying down on one side of me. Nico walks through the door and tosses a water bottle to the each of us. I hear a quiet, “thank you” fall from Quinn’s lips. “So what kind of movie are we feeling tonight, ladies?” Nico asks in attempt to lighten the mood. He can tell he failed miserably so he looks at Quinn, “what kind of movies do you like?” “What, you pity me so I get to choose?” “I don’t pity any team I beat, you guys just need to practice more.” Quinn sits up in disbelief, “You assho-“ “stop it!” I cut both of them off.

"Both of you shut up and sit down, I'll choose the movie." I scoff, I actually thought they'd get along. I take the remote from the side table before Nico laid down. I turn on a random movie in a genre that I knew the both of them would like, horror. I huff and lay back down in between them. For the first few minutes of the movie, they sat inches away from me. Though, as the movie went on they got closer and closer until Quinn finally laid his head on me, allowing me to wrap my arm around him. My black dress slacks that I was wearing suddenly became very uncomfortable.

Nico notices my discomfort fast, moving to whisper in my ear. "I have some night pants you can borrow." I look at him and nod, silently begging. He understands and stands up to get them for me. Quinn looks up at me from his resting place on my chest, "M'sorry I was acting like an asshole, just tense." I smile, "It's okay, Quinn. I promise." I reassure him. Nico comes back, tossing the night pants on my lap. I couldn't help but notice that he'd gotten rid of his shirt. He was now only wearing a pair or gray sweatpants that rested dangerously low on his waist. I mentally curse myself when I realize I was caught staring.

I couldn't be bothered to get up to change so instead I pull the covers over myself as Nico rests himself back onto the bed next to me. If I didn't trust both of these men I absolutely would not be doing this. I unbutton my slacks and pull them down before pulling the night pants up. I lean over Quinn and toss the pants into a hamper, knowing I'd get them back sooner or later. I lay back down and feel way better, now able to focus on the movie that I'd already missed the beginning of. Quinn takes his spot back in my arms and Nico decides to get comfy as well.

Nico rests one of his hands under the sweater I was wearing and onto my stomach, resting his head on my shoulder. I never would've thought I'd be sandwiched in between my two best friends. I can't help to get freaked out over the movie I turned on, my instincts making my heart beat faster at any sound I heard. I guess my brain forgot about the two very strong men on either side of me. One particular jump scare on the screen made me feel as if I almost jumped out of my skin.

Nico sat up a bit, pinching his lips shut to keep himself from laughing. "Shut up," I huff and shake my head. "Sorry, pretty girl." He laughs to himself and lays back down. I can't help but let my face heat up at the nickname. His hand never left its spot on my stomach, I'm now finding myself increasingly aware of his calloused fingers drawing shapes on my soft skin. It doesn't help when I feel Quinn move his hand to rest on my thigh.

They had to be reading each other's minds, there was no way they weren't both planning something. I subconsciously move my hips, neither boy failing to notice. A soft pout falls on my lips as I notice the problem forming in my pants. Nicos hand hikes further up under my shirt, his finger running on the wiring on my bra. I don't say anything though, hoping they'd continue their movements.

Only when I felt Quinns hand slowly inch to my core, I got my confirmation on what they were doing. "Quinn..." I whisper softly and he shushes me. His fingers finally reach my core and I suck my bottom lip between my teeth. He faintly rubs just enough where I felt like I needed to whine to get him to touch me harder, but I don't. Quinn pulls the covers down so he can see what he is doing. Due to Nico's hand, that was now cupping my clothed breast, my shirt was riding up already.

"Guys..." I manage to squeak out. "Don't worry, we've got you." Nico says into my ear. I knew they'd stop if I asked them to, but that's the last thing I'd ever want to ask. "Neeks..." "I know, I know." he lifts me to sit up so he can pull my sweater off. His fingers slip around me to unbutton my bra and slip it off, my upper half becoming completely bare to my two best friends. Nico pulls me to lay back down, his lips finding home in pressing sloppy kisses on my chest.

Quinn becomes bold from seeing my naked upper half so he loops his fingers into the waist band of the night pants that Nico let me borrow. He slowly and teasingly pulls them down with my panties. My jaw falls slack at the feeling of Nico reaching my nipple, sucking it into his mouth. Soft whines fall from my lips, my right hand slipping and tangling into his soft hair. As he continues his movements, I move my hand down his back, touching any of the skin of his that I could reach.

Quinn moves up further in between my legs, his soft breath teasing my wet folds. I push my hips down, trying to press myself against his mouth but I fail. "Needy girl," Quinn teases cruelly. His eyes meet mine and his go soft, my soft smile peaking onto his lips. He darts his tongue out to press against my sensitive clit. I gasp and roll my head back in pleasure. It's more than just his tongue now, it's his whole mouth devouring my sopping cunt.

"Need more," I manage to whimper out through the pleasure of their mouths. Nico laughs against my flesh, "Could've asked us for this a long time ago." I don't respond, I can't. "Cum on my tongue and we'll give you more, baby." I just manage to nod. I don't protest as I already feel like I’m going to explode from the pressure. My back arches as tears form in my eyes, my release getting closer and closer. My eyes go white as I feel myself release on Quinn’s tongue.

I can feel his smirk against my cunt as he laps up any juice that spilled from me. He continues his movements to allow me to ride out my high then he pulls away. I look down at him to see him lick his lips with a stupid smile. “You taste amazing” he whispers. The second I catch my breath they’re both pulling away. Nico must of noticed my alarmed expression because he laughs and grabs my hand to press it to his chest.

While Nico does that, Quinn stands up to pull his own shirt off and unties his black sweatpants to pull them down along with his boxers. “Who do you want first?” Nico whispers and I pout with a shrug, “I dunno.” He smiles down at me as if he were admiring my fucked out expression. I look down and notice Quinn moving in between my legs. He moves his hand in front of my mouth, “spit” and I do, right into the palm of his hand. He smirks and brings it down to pump his dick, using it as a lubricant.

“Do you wanna keep going?” Quinn looks up at me for confirmation and I nod fast, “please” and so he lines himself up with my already sopping wet cunt. He goes slow, not wanting to risk hurting me. I moan out loudly, turning to bury my face in Nico’s abs. He laughs and runs his hand through my hair. The stretch is almost unbearable but the second I grind my hips down, Quinn begins his movements. I bite down softly against Nico to hold down my moans and gasps.

He snaps his hips harshly against me, his skin slapping against mine with every thrust. I roll my head away from Nico, my face being full of pleasure. “Think you can take me too?” Nico whispers to me, his fingers running softly over my face, collecting tears to wipe them away. “W-what?” “You can say no” he assures and I shake my head, his words finally clicking in my brain. “J-just-“ a moan from my lips interrupts me, “just go slow.” I manage to spit out and he nods.

Quinn seems to understand what he means so he pulls me with him to lay on our sides. I could hear Nico’s pants fall to the floor just before he slots himself behind me, his lips just behind my ear. His hands run softly on the soft flesh of my ass, his fingers slowly making their way to my tight hole. He leans down to spit, running his finger over me before dipping his finger in the tightness slowly. He takes his time to stretch me out as Quinn holds me tight, fucking me harshly.

Once Nico thinks he’s done a good enough job he spits in his hand and jerks himself for only a moment before lining himself up. He gives Quinn a look and it’s like they are telepathic because Quinn slows down and stops. This allows Nico to slowly push in, careful to not hurt me. He sits there for a long moment, waiting for me to say something. “Please… move” I whine and Nico presses a kiss to my shoulder before doing what I request.

The two boys fuck my holes in sync. My eyes allow tears to flow down my face, I’d never experienced pleasure like this before. The stretch from Nico’s thick dick fills me with even more bittersweet pleasure. My jaw falls slack and I can’t even think straight. The two men fuck me dumb, I can’t manage to say anything or even think anything as they ruin my holes. But I can’t find the mind to even care.

Quinn’s the first to press his lips to mine, his eyes pinched shut tight as he sloppily kisses me, exploring his mouth with my tongue. Nico presses his lips to my neck, sucking harsh marks onto my neck and the parts of my jaw he could reach. Quinns thrusts falter, moving slowly as if he were savoring the experience, as if he were holding out on his orgasm so he didn’t have to pull out of me just yet.

I realize what was happening and I pull away to speak. “Y-you can cum in me… I’m on the pill.” I reassure and as if those words set him off, his cum coats my walls in warm spurts. His moments don’t falter though, his dick fucking the sperm further into me as Nico matched his thrusts. I was so close that I could taste it. “I’m gonna-“ “go ahead, baby girl” Nico whispers and with his words I coat Quinn’s dick with my cum.

The tightening of my orgasm pushes Nico over the edge and he fills up my ass, the sounds coming from the pair made me think that maybe I wouldn’t care too much if my birth control didn’t work. I slow down to a stop but don’t make a move to pull out. We just sit there like that for a few minutes while we come down from our high. “Thank you.” Quinn whispers, resting his head right in front of mine. “Guess you feel better then?” Quinn nods and I smile. “Glad you feel better, princess” Nico reaches over me to jokingly and softly slap Quinn before getting up.

Quinn rolls his eyes as Nico walks into his bathroom to get something. He comes back with a damp rag in his hand. He leans over me and wipes my fucked out holes clean, the sensation sending a shiver down my spine. I presses a kiss to my shoulder and throws the rag in the hamper. I sit up and rub my eyes before attempting to stand up. I nearly fall but I catch my balance and walk towards the bathroom.

I leave the door open as I look in the mirror and my jaw drops. There were deep purple marks scattered all over my skin that even a turtle neck wouldn’t be able to cover. “Nico Hischier, I’m going to kill you.” I hear him laugh from the bed and I huff and walk back into the room. The discarded movie was just now ending and I cross my arms and furrow my brows. “Will you two get along now?” They turn to look at each other and they shrug, looking back to me. “Only if we get to keep you.” Quinn smiles brightly.

I huff and crawl back in between them, “I wasn’t planning on taking myself away.” I don’t care to cover myself by the blanket, I just lay on my back in between them. Nico turns off the lamp on his side table and resumes his original spot, his hand on my stomach and head on my shoulder. Quinn does the same, his hand on my thigh and head on my chest. “Get some sleep, the both of you.” “Yes ma’am” one of them says but I can’t quite make out who as I fall into a deep sleep.

[archerlullaby]

Hello friends! It’s been a long while since I posted, but here’s a piece based off of @kikker-oma ‘s incredible whumptober art! Go check it out!

Sky is tired. So tired. Tired of walking, tired of how his lungs burn when the forest grows thick, tired of how his callouses tore after the fifth time he raised it in battle today. Tired of—

“Pick up your feet Sky. By what Wild says, we won’t make it to Necluda if we keep going at this pace.”

Warriors pats him on the back and moves ahead of him without even so much as a glance. Sky closes his eyes in agitation but sighs his annoyance away. You’re the peacemaker. The peacemaker is calm. The peacemaker smiles. You don’t get upset with your brothers, especially when they’re just trying to help. “Sky! What’d I tell you? Hurry it up!” Warriors’s voice breaks through his calming mantra and Sky grits his teeth.

“Yes! Coming!” He picks up his feet, catching up with the group with a wheeze he hides in his sleeve.

The sun grows hot, and though the surface world of Wild’s land is beautiful, it seems to have a personal vendetta against Sky’s lungs. Having spent most of his life up in the Skyloft where the airborne irritants are few, this forest full of different flowers, trees, and grasses is a far throw from what his lungs are used to. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take long until he feels that oh-so familiar band tightening around his chest. He focuses his breaths, trying to ignore the urge to cough, to yawn, to do anything to get more air in his chest so that the group doesn’t catch on.

“If you’re having trouble breathing, Sky, you should loosen your sailcloth. It likely doesn’t help being tied around your neck like that,” Warriors says, shooting him a backwards glance as if to say “I can hear you choking on the very air you breathe, dumbass.” Sky smiles thinly and tugs at the knot, loosening it slightly. Obviously that wasn’t what he meant. Warriors is just trying to help, as always, Sky chides himself.

“Right as always, Captain. Thank you.”

“Hmmm,” Warriors replies, giving Sky a quick once-over with a raised brow before turning forward again. Sky grits his teeth, hanging back away from the group to gather his thoughts and squash the buzz of annoyance that has once again invaded his headspace.

Master, I detect a rise in blood pressure and slight emotional instability. I suggest you take a break.

Fi’s voice echoes in his head and, unlike the usual calming affect her voice has, it only serves to muddle his thoughts.

“Now’s not the time, Fi,” Sky mutters.

On the contrary, master. There is a high probability of both your physical and mental health deteriorating further if you do not rest soon.

Sky merely groans inwardly and puts his focus into making one foot go in front of the other, which would be a relatively easy task had Warriors not fallen back to walk astride him.

“Sky, I think we need to work a little on proper hand care. A warrior is only as effective with a blade as his hands are capable of holding it, and I can tell that yours are hurting,” Warriors chides gently. The buzzing in Sky’s head gets louder.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks,” he replies stiffly. Warriors huffs.

“You’re not taking me seriously.”

“Now is not a good time, Wars.”

“Well, forgive me for trying to help you!” Warriors throws his hands in the air dramatically. “Listen. I’m just worried about you. I can tell you’re in pain, and I have a lot of experience with—”

Sky stops in his tracks, allowing the group to move ahead, leaving him alone with the other man. The annoyance that has been simmering all day suddenly ignites into something hotter. “Oh, and I don’t have experience?” He says, his voice low. Warriors looks at him with surprise, then rolls his eyes.

“Goddesses, Sky, don’t be ridiculous, you know that’s not what I meant. What’s with you?”

“What’s with me? What’s with you?”

Warriors opens his mouth to retort but Time’s voice rings out from ahead.

“It’s a dangerous place to fall behind!” Time says, the warning clear. Warriors gives one last look at Sky before turning on his heel and stalking back towards the group. Sky knew it was foolish to get in a fight over something so meaningless, but he was just so damn exhausted. He put a shaky hand to his chest and took a too-shallow breath. Can’t think straight. Can’t breathe right. Apparently I can't even take care of myself, according to Mr. High and Mighty, Sky thinks bitterly.

When he finally gathers himself enough to continue walking, the group is far enough ahead to where he can’t discern who is talking. Unease shoots through him and he begins to jog to catch up, but doubles over in a fit of coughing in just a few measly steps. When it finally subsides, he wipes the spittle from the edges of his mouth with one hand, his other supporting himself on his knee. With a groan of exasperation, he tries to blink away the spots in his vision

Master, behind—

“SKY!”

Sky looks up blearily to see Wild sprinting at him with a familiar glint in his eye just in time for a spear to imbed itself into the ground less than six inches from his boot. He has the right sense to throw himself to the side just as a Lizalfos’s tail sweeps the air right where his legs were a moment ago. Still recovering from his coughing fit, he wheezes as his hand reaches for the Master Sword, easily pulling the blade from the sheathe but not without throwing him off balance as he backpeddles away from the long reach of the monster’s spear. He lands on his back on the forest floor, bringing the sword up to defend himself best he could as the Lizalfos jumps on top of him.

Before it could complete its attack, a blur of royal blue body slams the creature off of him, both figures tumbling to ground with a thud. Twilight is not far behind, pulling Wild up with a single hand as the duo faces off with the creature. A hand tugs Sky up to his feet.

“Are you injured?” Time’s steady voice cuts through the air. Sky merely shakes his head, turning to help Twilight and Wild, but finds that the two have already dealt the final blow. Wild flicks his sword expertly to clean his blade, a grin on his face as Twilight glowers at him.

“Seriously? You have almost every weapon in the books and yet you still choose to tackle it?” Twilight baps Wild upside the head before chuckling. “Black-blooded too? You’re a maniac.”

Sky shoots Wild a shaky smile.

“Thanks, champ. I was in a bad way,” he says quietly. Wild merely shrugs.

“Sure thing. Also, we should keep moving. Where there’s one, there’s more,” he replies, before pointing and walking back to the path. “We’re only about an hour out. We can get to a safe part of the woods before the sun sets.”

The group follows Wild and Sky falls into line, acutely aware of how Warriors has not said a single word through the entire ordeal. The adrenaline wears off, leaving Sky feeling worse than he was before.

Just as Wild promised, they reach a clearing just as the sun touches the horizon. With a groan, Wind drops his pack and flops onto the ground.

“Ughh! My feet are falling off!” Wind exclaims, voice muffled by the grass. Sky watches as Warriors approaches the youngest and laughs, squatting beside the boy and ruffling his hair.

“Oh, come on, sailor! You could’ve asked me to carry you! Or we could have slowed it down a bit!” Warriors grins down at Wind.

Outrage. Slowed down a bit? Anger shoots through Sky as he hears Warriors continue to talk to Wind. Where was that sympathy when I couldn’t breathe? When he knew I was struggling?

Master, your heart rate has jumped to 115 beats per minute, an increase of 64.23 percent from two minutes ago. Sitting down would be a logical course of action.

“Yes. Yep. Sitting down, thanks Fi,” Sky makes out through gritted teeth. Taking off his armor and setting the Master Sword aside, he does his best to breathe. Rolling up his sleeves, he basks in the cooling air. He sits with eyes closed, face towards the darkening forest, listening to the sounds of the coming night, the crickets chirping, the frogs croaking. All is well. All is well and you are calm. You are the peacemaker…

“—Do not believe he should take watch tonight. I am not confident in his line of thinking right now,” Warriors’s voice cut through Sky’s meditation. Sky’s eyes snap open as he tunes in to what was clearly supposed to be a private conversation. Not confident?

“Can you check on him?”

“Time, I don’t think that’s a good idea. He clearly wants to be alone, and to be honest, I don’t feel like holding a conversation with him right now.”

“Warriors—”

“Don’t, Time. He’s been off all day, and there are already tensions between us. And with that stunt he pulled earlier? I already told him once to catch up. His lackadaisical actions could’ve gotten people hurt, or worse. Something has to change. I’m trying to figure out what to do with him.”

Sky heard Time say something in return, but the anger that had clouded his mind blocked it out. He rose slowly, turning towards the two with rage written across his face. Time notices him first and places a hand on Warriors’s shoulder.

“What to do with me?” He hisses, stalking towards Warriors.

“Sky—” Warriors starts, tugging out of Time’s grasp.

“What to do with me?” Sky stops nearly chest-to-chest with the other man. “What am I? A child?”

“No, Sky, that’s not—”

“Or maybe I’m one of your soldiers that you can command? Is that it, Captain?”

Warriors’s gaze darkens. “Well then, maybe, if it would help you get your head out of the clouds, perhaps it would be best to start thinking like the knight you are, Skyloftian,” he replies.

Sky was breathing hard, his wheezing starting to come back. Fi chimes from where he left her, but he ignores her warning. “You have been on my ass all day! There is no doing anything right with you is there? Because you’re always so perfect!”

“I’ve been helping you all day, because you clearly need it! Maybe you should use that head of yours to listen!”

“I don’t need your help!” Sky’s voice has risen, drawing attention from the others. Time merely stands aside with crossed arms, electing to let the two men settle their differences. “I don’t need you to tell me how fast to walk, I don’t need you to tell me how to take care of myself, I don’t need your two-sense on if I am capable of standing watch or not!”

“Is that so? Then explain to me how you got yourself trapped under the spear of a Lizalfos if not for you and your lack of ability to think for yourself?” Warriors spits.

Rage makes Sky’s mind go blank. He shoves the other man before gathering his tunic in his fist, pulling Warriors towards him, their faces mere inches apart. Sky could feel angry tears burning his eyes, and he was angry, so angry, and so, so tired.

“I’m getting real tired of you treating me like the village idiot, Captain!” Sky snarls.

Warriors’s hand wraps easily around Sky’s wrists, pressing bruises into the skin as he leans forward, his face red with anger. “You are way out of line, Chosen,” he snarls and yanks on Sky’s arm, which doesn’t budge. “You need to step back before I make you.”

Chosen? I’ll show you chosen, is Sky’s last conscious thought before he raises his lips in a snarl.

“Make me.”

M-STR…N-ED…TO…CA-M…DOWN!

Fi’s voice rings and reverberates in his head, but he chooses to ignore it as the hair on his neck and arm rise, the buzzing in his head deafening. He fails to see how Warriors’s eyes change from anger to fear, or how he tries to pry Sky’s fist from his tunic. He is aware of yelling, and then Warriors is ripped from his grip and a strong pair of arms is encompassing his chest. A sharp pop fills the air, then silence, and the next thing he knows he’s gazing up at a sky full of stars, something hard at his back. There is an odd energy in the air, and it smells of ozone. Ozone? Oh…oh no. Oh no, no, no, what have I done?

“Ow.”

A voice in his ear snaps Sky out of his panic. “Time?”

“That’s me,” Time’s voice replies.

Sky scrambles off of him and turns, his hands ghosting over the other man.

“Did…did I burn you anywhere? Does your head feel okay? Oh, I’m so, so sorry!” Sky exclaims, tears springing to his eyes. Time merely chuckles from where he lays on the ground.

“I’m fine Sky. But maybe I won’t wear my armor next time you call electricity forth from your person,” he says with a wince as he sits up.

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay.”

“No, I really—”

“Sky.” Time stands and grabs him by the shoulders. “Don’t apologize to me. Gather yourself, and when you’re ready, go to Warriors. I believe a calm conversation would do you good. As adults.” Sky nods. Time looks at him skeptically. “And I reiterate, as adults,” he says again, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, I understand,” Sky murmurs, “Thank you.” Times nods and moves away, gesturing at the others to go about their business. Warriors is nowhere to be seen.

Sky makes his way over to his space, laying out his sleeping roll, gently refusing the food Wild brings to him (until Wild shoves it in his face with an unsettling glare), and apologizes to Fi for not heeding her warning. She chimes quietly in response, never one to hold a grudge. After several hours into the night, Sky still can’t sleep despite Fi’s gentle plea to get some rest, so he stands and searches the camp for Warriors. Legend, who is on watch, glances at Sky then simply juts his chin towards the edge of the camp, towards a large stump at the woodline. Sky smiles his thanks.

Gathering his courage, Sky walks towards the stump. On the other side, he can see the top of a blond head and a familiar blue scarf. Sky pauses just before reaching the stump.

“May I…join you?” Sky asks softly. Warriors merely gestures a spot next to him on the grass. Sky settles next to him, and they sit in silence for a while until Wars breaks it.

“So. Lightning,” he says. Sky winces inwardly.

“Oh…yeah. It’s a long story,” he replies, “And not a very happy one, unfortunately,” he adds quietly. Warriors nods understandingly. Silence again.

“Warriors—”

“It’s okay Sky.”

“No—”

“I should be the one apologizing to you,” Wars finally turns and faces him, regret in his eyes. “I was insensitive. Uncaring. I knew that you were being hurt by my words and I didn’t stop.”

Sky shook his head. “I was too lost in my own emotions to see that I was losing control. I almost hurt you out of anger. I hurt Time,” he sighs, resting his head in his hands. “You’re right. Sometimes I am too undisciplined to call myself a knight.”

Warriors shoves his shoulder. “None of that. We all have our moments. Yours wouldn’t have happened had I not been such a moblin-headed idiot,” he declares. “But truly. I am so very sorry, Sky. I was on edge already from traveling in Wild’s world and I took it out on you.”

Sky nods. “Thank you. And I’m sorry as well. For almost, you know…”

“Electrocuting me?”

Sky nods again.

“Eh. I deserved it,” Warriors chuckles. A smile pulls at the edges of Sky’s mouth and they fall into a comfortable silence. Warrior’s arm falls across Sky’s shoulders and he pulls him into a hug.

“You’re still my brother. You know that?” Wars mumbles into Sky’s hair.

“And you’re mine,” Sky replies softly, melting into the embrace as tears prick at his eyes for the third time that day. “I love all of you to death,” he adds.

“Yeah, we’re pretty great, huh?” The other laughs quietly, Sky chuckling in return.

They stay like that for a long while. The night grows colder and the moon is high in the cloudless sky, the stars dancing far above the canopy of trees below. Sky feels his eyelids grow heavy, the warm embrace lulling him into sleep until Warriors nudges him to sit up.

“You should go back to your bedroll and get some real sleep. I know you’re exhausted,” he tells Sky.

“Dn wnna mve,” Sky mumbles in response.

“Huh?”

“Try to move me again and I will strike you with lightning,” He says, cracking an eye open and glaring halfheartedly at Warriors, who laughs in response.

“Alright, alright! Sleep well, Sky,” he whispers. A beat. “And for what it’s worth, I love you too. You lot are the best family I could ever ask for.”

Sky smiles, pulling the soft fabric of the scarf over his shoulder, and falling into a dreamless sleep.

[volturiprincess]

A late night conversation with Felix (Extended Version)

Felix Volturi x human mate reader

Summary: The conversation that happens between reader and Felix late at night when reader has a hard time falling asleep Warnings: None really, just some curse words and some mentions of smut but overall cute fluff A/N: I finally got to it and I got to say it was fun to write. its not really structured like a one-shot, its more like back and forth dialogue. Something different but I loved it. There will be a second A/N in the end. F/c: favorite color Word Count: 1060 🌹~~~~~~~~~~~🌹~~~~~~~~~~~~🌹~~~~~~~~~~~~🌹~~~~~~~~~~~~🌹

(Mighty fine man)

I have been awake for the past hour chatting away with Felix. I am supposed to be sleeping but sleep appears to not be on my side currently. And it does not help that Felix just lets me talk away and does not even bother to make me fall asleep– but that is one of the many reasons why I love him. Our current situation right now is him barely fitting on the twin size bed in my dorm, his poor legs are dangling off the bed while I'm snuggled on top of him with his arms wrapped around me. This is not the first night where we have been like this, Felix likes to visit me as frequently as he can at night when he is not away on some mission or has a night guard shift. Even if I am currently in college (one that is close to Volterra), we spend a lot of time together either studying, going on dates, sex in the most risky places in my campus, and my favorite thing; lying in bed with him late at night talking about the most random crap to exist like now

“ Felix? Do you know why a raven is like a writing desk?”

I heard him take an unnecessary breath before he responded

“My dear little rose, sometimes you really are a mystery to me, what goes through that pretty head of yours when iIm not around?

“Well first of all school, and that stupid essay that's due tomorrow but then my mind wanders to you and your jaw dropping arms that just fits so perfectly around me or how your large hand makes quiet the nice necklace”

The way he gasp made me think I really did catch him off guard 

“And here I thought my little cara was a good girl and only focused on school”

“Well you thought wrong big guy, how am I supposed to think clearly when I have you as a lover? The way you know how to have me on my knees for you with just a look is just insane?”

Without even looking at him I knew he had that shark-like grin he gets when his ego is boosted which never fails to amuse me.

“You know the way you always compliment me with your modern words makes me fall for you more than you can imagine”

“Oh don't get soft on me yet big guy, you haven't even meet my delusional self when I lack sleep”

He chuckled slightly

“Oh cara, nothing could make me love you less”

“Hmmm, mind if I ask you something Fe?

“Anything amore”

“Do you have a switch? 

Dead silence once again with his small sigh 

“...No…..why?”

“Because I want to turn you on.”

The dead silence that came after made me think that I finally broke him but then the booming laugh that came out of him made me look up at him in shock. My eyebrows then furrowed in confusion when he calmed down after 5 minutes of laughter

“With that being said short stack you should get some rest, you need it”

“First of all, who are you calling short stack?”

“You obviously, look at you compared to me, you fit on this bed perfectly while im barely on it”

“Well it's not my fault you’re a whole ass unit of a man, look at you, I mean i'm not complaining, I love your size, but then again that's probably my size kink that clouds my mind when I see you”

In a teasing voice he replied

“Is that the only thing you think about when you see me, not my dashing smile, or my wonderful personality that can make you blush easily and make you weak in the knees”

“On the contrary I love those characteristics of yours, your more that I can handle half of the time”

He chuckles again and then says calmly

“Just close your eyes, i'll be here when you wake up in the morning”

“Like it's that easy Felix, you think I don't do that every night?’

“Well if you don't go to sleep then I will make you sleepy”

The dead silence after that was so thick that even Alec’s gift would be jealous.

“Is that a promise?”

He tilted my head slightly so I could look at him and he that look that look like he was going to eat me whole and that instantly sent an electric feeling of aroused to my core

“If you don't fall asleep soon then….no sex for a week”

The audacity of this man– well vampire has to deny me sex for a week is absurd, who does he think he is to say such a thing?

“You wouldn't dare”

“Oh but I will”

“You wouldn't last a day without being intimate with me”

“Oh but I managed to last centuries without having sex”

“Well I uh, now it's different Felix, found your mate now, you wouldn't last a day”

“So you want to bet on that then?”

“WHAT no, are you insane, i'm only saying you wouldn't last, me on the other hand, well that's a different story”

“Alright I won't deny you what you desire, but you need to sleep already tesoro, I don't want you to fall asleep in your classes”

“Well then you haven't met my english professor have you, he has this monotone voice that sounds like a combination of Kermit the frog and a flat line, I don't know whether to hold in a laugh or to fall asleep”

“Kermit the Frog? Who is that?”

“Oh right your like a million years old, he's a muppet and he's a frog obviously”

“A muppet? I never heard of that, is he like a puppet then?”

“In a way, you know what, tomorrow night we will have a movie night and I will show you the muppet movie, okay my love?”

“Alright, but now sleep or I will be serious about my threat”

“Ok ok, don't need to be dramatic now, look i'll close my eyes now”

Unfortunately the minute I closed my eyes, sleep over took me and I passed out in a minute in the coldness that naturally Felix releases and my f/c quilt draped over me that Felix got me for my birthday last year. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: The part where I said about having a professor that has a voice combination of Kermit and a flat line is true. Anyways, I hope you like it and my I will start working on a Jasper one-shot, I got inspiration from a song recently so something to look forward to.

[agentrouka-blog]

A stans conveniently forgetting that she doesn't want to be a lady in the first place. A would probably be very disappointed with them and would be the first to protest LOL

If we didn't have Sansa, Arya's arc could be a very bitter-sweet path of disillusionment and sober acceptance of duty.

She runs out on lessons and hates the life prescribed for a lady, is comfortable with her privileges while ignoring the accompanying duties. She ignores class boundaries because she can - without understanding the power and privilege she retains unlike actual smallfolk. She is violent when she's upset, impulsive, inconsiderate of the needs of others (unless she personally likes them). (While also being sweet, curious, funny, sensitive, obviously.)

And then she gets adventure and travel in the most horrendous way, all her naive dreams destroyed. Just injustice, war and murder. And when she eventually makes her way home, she willingly takes on the duties she had hated. Sitting still, accepting contrary views without immediate blind refusal, reading and studying, negotiating, stationary administrative work, complex decisions, patience, prudence, self-control, marriage and children, sacrifice of her freedom...

All lessons learned through pain and suffering on her travels. A subdued, somber Arya who turns her scars into lessons and gives her life over to serving her people, no matter how she yearned for something different.

But.

Sansa exists. Who has a different arc, going from being perfectly raised to do the job of a consort (with all the attendant study and diplomatic skill), through observation, painful mistakes, and growing experience, to realize that she cannot take refuge in passivity, she needs to exercise power and privilege when she has it in order to achieve the kind of justice or harmony she wants to see in the world. A reluctant ruler, who is equiped with the necessary education and skills, but needs to develop the determination and confidence to act.

This alternative frees up Arya for a much happier ending better suited to her skills and desires, as well. A wiser, more patient Arya, more aware of the power structures and her own privilege, who doesn't have to restrain her boldness as a politician but rather can exercise it as a traveler, a constant representative of the interests of the smallfolk, as an explorer, as a diplomat in the interest of the North, a living legend, Oberyn's Northern counterpart.. just anything that doesn't tie her down with paperwork and the minutiae of administrative necessities.

GRRM loves Arya. I know which ending I think is more likely.

[ranticore]

Chapter 2 - To Be Human

for tdov i'll post my most trans coded character, more trans than any of the others tbh. obviously it's ishmael

---

Forward by the author | Chapter 1

In a bright white room with a single large round window, a young Ishmael sits on a bed. The edge of a rock ridge curves across the view beyond the window. Ishmael looks out through the window at the sheer sides, one hand pressed to the glass so that the light diffuses red through his skin. He is twelve years old and wears a shapeless blue and green garment that does not fit him, pinching tight around his neck but loose across his shoulders. A sipho nymph flies past the window and he turns to follow it.

Voice of Maris: What was that? Did you see it?

Ishmael: Not really. Too fast.

Maris: That was one of those – what are the zoologists calling them again? It’s a different name every time I hear it.

Ishmael: Exosiphonid.

Maris: I think they’re scary. Like giant dragonflies.

Ishmael: Did Surwan see it?

Maris: Who’s Surwan?

Ishmael: This girl in the biology class. She wanted to see an exosiphonid.

Maris: I didn’t know you were in the biology class. Was it good?

Throughout the video, Ishmael does not make eye contact with Maris or the recording device. He appears to hide behind a curtain of hair and hunch in on himself while he is not looking out through the window.

Ishmael: Dan said I could join next semester. I was waiting outside.

Maris: And eavesdropping?

Maris: I think it’s admirable to want to learn. What do you want to learn about? Is there anything that interests you? I’m no biologist, really.

Ishmael: Surwan likes the flying ones, like siphos. Callum wants to learn about leviathans.

Maris: That sounds exciting. Would you like to learn about leviathans too?

Ishmael: Lee doesn’t think they’re real. He said the betas wouldn’t get made if there were monsters in the water.

Maris: I don’t think Lee is a trustworthy source on that, if you want my opinion. Would you like to find out the truth? Imagine if you were the first to see a leviathan, they might name it after you.

——

The video transcribed above is a very typical example of Maris’s early sessions with Ishmael. He appears to resist all of her attempts to get him to submit an original thought, and repeatedly refers to the Human children instead, those who are undergoing a structured education about the zoology of Siren.

Maris’s notes echo my own understanding – that Ishmael struggled to articulate anything beyond a constant wish to be included with the other children, to the point of eavesdropping on classes he was not allowed to attend.

His passing curiosity about the wildlife around the settlement served only as a means to connect with the other children. And he was repeatedly shunned for these attempts, as Callum’s diary later noted. Those children whose likes and ambitions he carefully memorised did not think of him the way he thought of them. In fact, as far as I can tell, they did not think of him at all, because he was not a peer in any real sense.

This video also acknowledges the existence of the beta generation of Sirenians, who largely resembled modern phocids, though smaller and with shorter tails. It is important to state that although modern phocids descend from this beta generation, they do not descend from Ishmael. In fact, nobody descends from Ishmael, despite legends and myths to the contrary. This was stated explicitly several times by both Ishmael as an adult and Dan Loris, but made clear to Ishmael by Maris during these sessions.

“The other children are learning about how to make babies,” Ishmael announced at a session one day. “Dan wouldn’t let me stay. He never lets me stay.”

“You don’t need to know any of that,” Maris said. “You’re different to the other kids, remember? You don’t have a body that makes babies. Honestly, that’s a pretty sweet deal if you ask me. Can we swap?”

Her attempts at reassuring him seemed to fall on deaf ears, because reminders of his differences were often poorly received by Ishmael, or ignored. He paused to think about what she said, wondering how she could envy him when all he wanted in the world was to be like her.

“How do I get one?” he asked.

“A baby?”

“A body that makes them. I asked Dan and he said the betas can do it.”

“Well, yes,” Maris said, now wondering exactly how much it was appropriate to delve into he topic. “You don’t want to be like a beta, though, do you?”

Ishmael visibly shuddered. “No! But I want to be like Callum, can Dan do that? I’m getting better at being upright, so maybe if I practice more I can change.”

Thwarting Ishmael’s one desire was the absolute fact that his genetics were set in stone, and he could not be retroactively made fully Human. These sessions reveal a seam of anxiety, too, over the beta generation. At the time there were twenty of them, living in a separate location where they had access to a test pool.

Repeatedly, during the sessions with Maris, Ishmael brings them up as a potential bad ending for him, the inverse of his great desire to become like the other Humans. Those beta phocids were less Humanoid than Ishmael himself was. He believed that by mimicking the Human children he could become more similar to them, but the opposite could also be true, and the wrong actions might cause him to degenerate into a beta phocid.

Unfortunately for him, his efforts at being ‘upright’ did not result in any permanent bipedalism. When he was fourteen, his unpredictable growth had shifted his proportions away from the more Humanlike ratio he’d been born with. He was finding it more difficult to stand up straight, instead adopting a hunched and arched posture which still left him standing taller than the children of his age whose attention he coveted. The onset of puberty and these shifts in his body were tortuous, and it was a time that lasted until his mid-thirties when he finally reached his adult size and proportions.

But there was an improvement noted by both Dan Loris and Maris – despite repeatedly displaying signs of distress and depression in his sessions with her, he was no longer wordlessly violent, and did not give himself to his rages anymore.

Maris had provided him with the one thing he needed at the time – a safe person to talk to, someone who asked him how he was feeling without taking it as some scientific data point. She reported it all to Dan Loris, of course, but did not tell Ishmael that. He believed that she was his only safe harbour in the entire world.

Maris, in her own notes, says pretty much the same. And she was fond of him, too, revealing a genuine affection towards him alongside a deep abiding worry that she was not doing enough to ease his distress, and that she could have done more. She admits that she was not a trained psychologist, just someone in the settlement who had spare time and some textbooks. Her actual job was as a water quality specialist and she was acutely conscious that she had not the qualifications nor educational background necessary to help Ishmael properly. The settlement had a number of psychologists but they were not associated with the lab and did not volunteer their time.

To pre-empt the same problems with tantrums arising in the beta phocids, Maris was also supposed to spend some time with them, too. But she discovered that, with the exception of one, they were actually rather well-adjusted compared to Ishmael, likely as a result of their group all living together and being able to form a small close-knit community. Ishmael was deprived of this.

And, most importantly, the beta phocids could see themselves reflected in their community and use their bonds as a lens to make sense of themselves. Ishmael lacked this factor, and had no reflections or counterparts that he could use to understand himself. He was isolated by being unique, and by his inability to see the phocids as anything other than strange creatures he was embarrassed to somewhat resemble.

But it’s also patently clear that Maris, and Dan Loris and the other Precursors Ishmael was in contact with didn’t do much to raise Ishmael’s opinion of the beta phocids, as evidenced by the transcript above. Perhaps if they’d thought to assuage his fears by treating the beta phocids as people worthy of dignity and understanding, he might not have feared becoming like them.

The beta phocids, for their part, were born in a similar manner to Ishmael – the same deep dream, the same delayed birth, though their bodies were ten years old by the time they emerged from their dream and took their first breaths. Ishmael had been subject to numerous digestive trials measuring the suitability of his body for life on Siren. It was found that he was somewhat lacking in the production of a digestive chemical called an enzyme which would have allowed him to better deal with the high concentrations of silica present in Siren organisms.

He could eat and digest local plants and animals, but sometimes showed signs of digestive upset. Taking this information, Dan Loris was able to tweak his beta phocids before they were born, cloning and increasing the number of cells in their bodies which could produce the appropriate enzyme. He also took samples of Ishmael’s gut microbiome, which had taken years to properly develop, and implanted those samples within the digestive tracts of the beta phocids.

They were born as a group, though not all at once, allowing for correct monitoring of the newborns during the most tenuous periods. One suffered from the most common cause of death due to delayed birth; they simply never woke up, having rejected the dream at some point over the past several years. They were removed from the amniotic chamber where they passed on, a ten year stillbirth. We might remember the legacy of ‘Ishmael’, our Ishmael who was first born on Siren, but I feel it is only right to remember ‘Charity’, the first Sirenian to die here. They were given then to the assistants of Dan Loris who performed a post mortem examination.

The others suffered no more from the effects of delayed birth than Ishmael himself did. Although their bodies were more divergent from Precursor Humans than Ishmael’s was, at the time of his birth, and the discrepancies between their dream selves and their true selves must have been more jarring, this was offset somewhat by the communal nature of their upbringing. As soon as one was deemed fully awake, aware, and of sufficient health, they were placed in the boarding chamber with the other phocids and an assigned nursery worker. The birthing process took the better part of a year, so that the last born of the delayed-birth phocids was one year ‘younger’ than the rest, despite all technically being the same age.

Cherta, who gave their name to the wandering moon, was the fifth born beta phocid. There is very little to distinguish Cherta from the rest of the group, at this early stage, but I have on file their original description - “‘Cherta’, named for a sponsor of the project who donated three million nua*. Unisex ‘phocid’ of the Beta generation. Born age 10 years and 5 months, in [Year 3]. Melanistic colouring was chosen as protection against solar radiation, but it is expressed in heterogenous patches with a strong dorsal stripe. Length 5’1 nose to tailtip at time of birth and weight 54kg. Unusually violent birth, needed sedation.” In fact, Cherta assaulted Dan Loris’s assistants as they were born, reacting to the event as though it were an invasion of the bedroom of their dream. It was by all accounts an auspicious start compared to the others, and perhaps an indication that Cherta’s experience with the deep dream was not standard.

Cherta had fallen victim to another rare phenomenon of the incubator, referred to by Dan Loris as ‘dream rot’. This occurrence is a result of differences in the receiving brain, rather than the dream machine itself. The brain begins to understand, in some form, that what it is witnessing is not reality, and the structure of the dream begins to unravel.

At the time of Cherta’s delayed birth, the dream had been in the early stages of this process. If allowed to continue for too long, permanent damage to the psyche’s ability to judge reality is the result. Cherta would be haunted by this for the remainder of their life, but it was not severe enough to significantly alter their treatment compared to the other beta phocids.

The violence of their birth began to circulate in anecdotal form, eventually reaching the ears of Ishmael. He was curious – in fact, it was the first time he showed open curiosity about anything other than the opinion of a Human child. He asked Maris if she was going to speak to Cherta too, and she told him that she had spoken to all of the beta phocids, and had given Cherta in particular some extra guidance.

He did not take it well. The realisation that Maris’s time was not solely devoted to his needs was a source of distress, and likely another painful forced grouping with the phocids he feared. He would not participate in Maris’s sessions as he had before, and appeared afterwards to despise Cherta in a way that seemed quite targeted and personal.

Maris was forced to lie – she told Ishmael that she also spoke to the Human children, thus drawing him back under the umbrella of Humankind. In the following sessions, Ishmael revealed that he had greater knowledge of the beta phocids—and Cherta in particular—than anyone had previously guessed.

“Why do they look like that?” Ishmael asked. “They don’t stand up. They’re like animals.”

“They’re adapted to move in the water, like you,” Maris said. Her voice sounded nervous. “This means they had to have short arms and long, streamlined bodies. Like an otter. They’re very graceful in the water.” She had begun to introduce a less dismissive attitude towards the phocids, even praising them at times. Ishmael would tense every time she did.

“I don’t swim,” Ishmael said.

“Well, you’re not here to swim,” Maris said. “You have other things to teach us, so Dan didn’t wanna risk you in the pool.”

Ishmael was quiet for a long time. He rarely changed his facial expression, to the point that Maris often noted that she wondered if he heard her at all, or if his facial muscles had not developed properly.

“I saw Cherta playing with the floating ball at the bottom of the pool. In the water.” Ishmael sounded somewhat disdainful. “Like a child.”

“You’re all the same age,” Maris reminded him. “And I think you’re a child too. What’s wrong with having fun in the pool? Are you jealous?” She was fascinated by Ishmael’s sudden willingness to offer his opinion, particularly as discussion of the Human children never provoked this in him.

But Ishmael didn’t answer that one. At that point, he did not want to admit to any jealousy, and likely did not consciously recognise the feeling as such. Instead, he felt annoyance - he had to spend time in the lab doing work with Dan Loris, providing test feedback, having his organs scanned, letting himself be pawed all over by technicians who did not particularly care for him, only for what data he could provide. He did not endear himself to them, his quiet and obtuse personality proving difficult to grow fond of. But he still knew that it was work, he was producing data, and the phocids were just playing around in a pool all day, as far as he could tell. He was filled with righteous indignation at their laziness, at how easy their lives were, and wished that they knew what it was like to be him, so that they might stop looking so happy any time he peered in through the test pool windows.

I have recovered video footage of this behaviour, too. At odd hours of the day, with no real schedule, Ishmael would approach those windows. They were set in the side of the corridor outside the lab, affording an underwater view to onlookers. Access to the aboveground phocid enclosure was limited, so Ishmael only had the windows. He would walk there—painstakingly upright, though often with a hand on the wall to help support what was increasingly a difficult posture—and then sit on his tail and watch. The beta phocids spent most of their time in the water, as one might imagine. Ishmael would later learn that their lives were not as blissfully relaxing as he first thought, but it is true that they spent a lot of time playing in the pool, as teenagers will do. And he would watch them, until he heard an approaching Human, and quickly retreat.

The windows did not allow the phocids to look out. Cherta was unaware that they were the target of Ishmael’s most intense scrutiny. Despite a somewhat disturbing, moth-eaten childhood dream, Cherta was, on the surface, as lively as the rest of the phocids. They weren’t exactly easygoing, though, preferring to impress upon the others the importance of following rules, and of doing things the right way.

What Ishmael did not realise was that the phocids, as they swam together, built jigsaws and played card games underwater, were providing data too. They showed Dan Loris how their body plan could deal with the aquatic environment as easily as a Human could walk around on land. And so, when Ishmael and the phocids were fifteen, Dan Loris began to build his gamma generation of genetically engineered Humans, those who would be born on Siren without the use of a deep dream, and who could be introduced to the world outside.

Long days and nights spent in the lab occupied almost all of Dan Loris’s time, and his child Callum had nowhere to go after his classes but the lab itself. And with Ishmael and Callum once again forced into close proximity to one another, Ishmael would soon learn one of the most valuable lessons of his childhood.

*’nua’ is a form of currency

[bodhranwriting]

The Chosen Many

Destiny is a woman.

There’s nothing much important about that particular aspect of Her. It wouldn’t make much difference to the world if the sparks that make up the goddess of human fate had decided that Her avatar should be male or genderless. After all, personality is more important than genitalia when you can shape them yourself and She would have been just as a much as an arsehole if She’d been a He.

The important part is that She made Herself a humanoid body and, with humanoid bodies, come humanoid thoughts.

Thoughts like, ‘I’m bored’ and ‘You know what might be fun?’

Gods aren’t worshipped here. They turn up too often and overstay their welcome: rather like that one friend at a party who didn’t bring any alcohol and is suddenly very insistent on trying out a watery interpretation of socialism. At best, the more conscientious ones get thank-you gifts. At worst, it’s a toxic relationship for whomever has caught their attention.

Priests tend to get friendly with the bottom of a glass by their third year in service.

Destiny doesn’t have priests. Contrary to popular belief, She doesn’t have much interest in everyday people either. If you were to be honest – preferably in the temple of another god She’d recently annoyed – Destiny’s plans are faint pencil sketches for most. Often, She gets bored and, apart from one or two big events, most people have blameless, simple lives.

But sometimes, She likes to leave a massive metaphorical rake across the lifespans of a significant number of people.

This is one of these times.

And here we meet Sandford Candles – Sand – riding towards the village of Westbank, blissfully unaware that it is going to be obliterated by the hand of fate before he has time to finish his residency.

He was a skinny, suntanned youth, old enough to grow a beard but so far completely unable to. His hair was the colour of wet straw and cut in the style of Not Able to Afford a Proper Barber. Stray tufts stuck up at irregular intervals and occasionally he attempted to flatten them with his hand, but since he had three out of five fingers, it was less successful than he obviously intended. He was clad in the junior uniform of the Royal College of Medicine – maroon breeches, cream tunic, sky-blue jerkin – which had never looked good on anyone who wasn’t colourblind and therefore did not look good on him.

It certainly didn’t look good after a few hours of being rained on, but it was telling that that hadn’t upset him. Sand moved through the world with the good humour of someone who has never yet had anything bad happen to him.

Besides, the last rays of the setting sun were shining down on him through the autumnal leaves, the birds were singing, and he could see signs of civilisation that suggested his destination wasn’t too much further. He was taking his first steps – or rather, Arta, his horse was carrying him – into the next chapter of his life and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to make the best of it.

His enthusiasm wasn’t even dampened as he rode into what certain, snootier classmates would term a ‘bend in the road’. A cluster of cottages huddled around a square of green, gradually fanning out into lonely farmhouses and huts ranged along the lakeside. Shepherds were herding their sheep and chickens back into their barns, fishers tying up their boats at the slick-wood docks, and small shopkeepers shutting up. Flies buzzed over the water, black swarms coiling unpleasantly.

Most of them stopped as Sand rode in, watching him in polite silence, their stares raking him from head-to-toe.

He coughed nervously. “Um, hello?”

One of the fishers – a tall, dark woman– sighed heavily and jerked her thumb back the way he came. “If you’re looking for Mother Nylund, back to the red oak, take a left, and don’t get eaten.”

Sand blinked, wetting his suddenly dry lips. “I – “

“She’s a scary one, our Nylund. Last apprentice ran away crying.” The fisher grinned unpleasantly. “You look like one for crying.”

“Uh…” Sand scanned the faces of the crowd. To his slight relief, several of them were shaking their heads at the speaker, a few turning back to work. One of them – a stout, ragged old man in a multicoloured shirt – caught his eye and gave him a wink and a sly thumbs-up. The effect was slightly spoiled by him immediately taking a long drag from a bottle in his hand and spilling it on his collar.

“Are you deaf?”

Dragging his attention away from the ensuing scuffle as a shopkeeper stepped in to disarm the man of his alcohol, Sand said, “No. Thank you for the directions.”

As he urged Arta to turn, he heard the woman called, “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the flies!”

The laughter, hopefully, wasn’t all aimed at him.

A few minutes and a stomach-churning second of believing he was lost later, Sand urged Arta towards a squat stone cottage overrun with ivy. A half-circle of a fence enclosed it in a front plot of tamped-down dirt with a chicken run and pen lurking by the edge, but by the smell wafting in the breeze, there had to be a massive herb garden around the back.

Dust boiled up over his feet as he slid lightly off her back and he steeled himself as he strode towards the front door. He raised his fist to knock –

And nearly fell into the hallway as someone yanked it open with considerable force. That same someone grabbed him by the collar and snapped, “Have you ever had a baby?”

“I – no – I’ve been sent from the College –“

“I know you’re from the College, man! Have you delivered a baby?”

Sand gaped. “Not yet, I’m –“

“Well, there’s a first time for everything and lucky you, it’s breech. Take this and get on your horse!”

[bodhrancomedy]

A Fantasy Story About Midwives Saying "Screw You" to Destiny by Bodhrán M.

Destiny is a woman.

There’s nothing much important about that particular aspect of Her. It wouldn’t make much difference to the world if the sparks that make up the goddess of human fate had decided that Her avatar should be male or genderless. After all, personality is more important than genitalia when you can shape them yourself and She would have been just as a much as an arsehole if She’d been a He.

The important part is that She made Herself a humanoid body and, with humanoid bodies, come humanoid thoughts.

Thoughts like, ‘I’m bored’ and ‘You know what might be fun?’

Gods aren’t worshipped here. They turn up too often and overstay their welcome: rather like that one friend at a party who didn’t bring any alcohol and is suddenly very insistent on trying out a watery interpretation of socialism. At best, the more conscientious ones get thank-you gifts. At worst, it’s a toxic relationship for whomever has caught their attention.

Priests tend to get friendly with the bottom of a glass by their third year in service.

Destiny doesn’t have priests. Contrary to popular belief, She doesn’t have much interest in everyday people either. If you were to be honest – preferably in the temple of another god She’d recently annoyed – Destiny’s plans are faint pencil sketches for most. Often, She gets bored and, apart from one or two big events, most people have blameless, simple lives.

But sometimes, She likes to leave a massive metaphorical rake across the lifespans of a significant number of people.

This is one of these times.

And here we meet Sandford Candles – Sand – riding towards the village of Westbank, blissfully unaware that it is going to be obliterated by the hand of fate before he has time to finish his residency.

He was a skinny, suntanned youth, old enough to grow a beard but so far completely unable to. His hair was the colour of wet straw and cut in the style of Not Able to Afford a Proper Barber. Stray tufts stuck up at irregular intervals and occasionally he attempted to flatten them with his hand, but since he had three out of five fingers, it was less successful than he obviously intended. He was clad in the junior uniform of the Royal College of Medicine – maroon breeches, cream tunic, sky-blue jerkin – which had never looked good on anyone who wasn’t colourblind and therefore did not look good on him.

It certainly didn’t look good after a few hours of being rained on, but it was telling that that hadn’t upset him. Sand moved through the world with the good humour of someone who has never yet had anything bad happen to him.

Besides, the last rays of the setting sun were shining down on him through the autumnal leaves, the birds were singing, and he could see signs of civilisation that suggested his destination wasn’t too much further. He was taking his first steps – or rather, Arta, his horse was carrying him – into the next chapter of his life and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to make the best of it.

[hopefull-mindset]

How do you feel about the difference in Nagito's confession in Japanese and English?

In Japanese he kinda pauses saying something along the lines of 'in love with y...' before going on about hope inside.

But in English it's straight to loving the hope in Hajime.

I was hoping I’d be able to talk about this! If anyone needs a further explanation on the translation error, I recommend reading this first. It’s my favorite explanation because it deconstructs the Japanese to English process thoroughly, and the ambiguity of the whole thing really explains why Hajime was so confused. I’ve seen doubt as to fan translations being right at all, so I hope this helps out.

Now there isn’t many new things to say about a game this old with a large fanbase like this, but with new fans means more information to be spread (and misinformation respectively), so I’d be happy to speak!

UMMM I have no idea if anything I said down below is even what you were asking me, maybe you were just asking me about the decision of changing it, which um I don’t blame the official translators for going straight into it because it’s a fairly ambiguous line and most japanese fans go straight into it too when they qoute it, but official translators are not credible for their care of finer details that could be clearly translated into English, so it’s whatever I guess. Japanese fans also shouldn’t be our guide to consuming media of their language since they’re also just people, and I think it’s probably just easier to quote it like that without it sounding confusing the way it does in text.

This has been practically common knowledge by now to know that it was an aborted love confession, meaning there isn’t much to be said on its own. With all that’s been spread about this, a common misunderstanding is with the use of “Aishiteru” (愛してる) being “more romantic” than any other form of “I like/love you” (Suki/Daisuki), which is not true. It’s much more intense than the other two because of it directly using “Ai” (愛) and in turn used less compared to them because of its intensity. In same line of thinking, usually it’s reserved for serious occasions like marriage, a loved one on their death bed, a final goodbye for someone you care for deeply, etc. but none of it makes it anymore romantic because all three can be used platonically. It’s solely dependent on the context it’s used for.

It’s just like how we use “I love you” in English and how many things it could mean at once, albeit we don’t have three separate ways to express it. Well there’s actually more ways to express love, but you only really need to know these three. I know a lot of sources tend to say “Aishiteru” (愛してる) is romantic, but that’s most likely because you’re looking at sources that are talking about it in a romantic context. It’s not platonic in the sense that you’d go up to your friend and say it, that sends a lot of mixed messages and real odd to attempt, but platonic in that someone you truly have a deep connection with, family member or otherwise.

On the contrary, it’s much more common to use Suki/Daisuki (好き / 大好き) in a love confession and everyday life. Usually you wouldn’t even use “Aishiteru” (愛してる) in your entire life, that isn’t uncommon. So typically the most you’ll see or hear “Aishiteru” (愛してる) used is in fictional japanese media or songs. Using it in a confession like Komaeda almost did is like… imagine going up to someone and telling them that you want to spend your entire life together, meet their parents, fully commit to each other, raise children (if that’s what you want), and die together before you’re even in the relationship or even had your first kiss yet. Like obviously you’re not saying all of that, you might not even mean that, but it’s implied with the intensity of it. It’s that extreme and would definitely confuse someone if you tried. It’s not exactly for someone you just started dating either.

Why does “Ai” (愛) make it so intense though? Compared to other ways of saying love like “Koi” (恋) for example (not gonna explain that one), it’s the purest, most heightened form of expressing love verbally in japanese culture because of the giving and profound nature of it. It’s loving in a way that encases a warm feeling all around you, so painfully genuine yet committed. Its something that’s formed over time with much care, and doesn’t ask for anything back. It’s that big to use, but siamotainously it’s awkward and a little embarrassing to use because it’s practically unsaid irl. There is a lot to personal reservations and such, but as a culture, japan is more reserved with their verbal expressions. This doesn’t speak for the entire country, but just in general actions speak louder than something as literal like “Aishiteru” (愛してる).

I had to go over that before I talked about Komaeda because I don’t want there to be a misunderstanding with what I’m about to say. Sorry to break the news to anymore who was star-eyed after learning what “Ai” (愛) meant in context, but the reason I went over that first with extensive context is because Komaeda is not at all liberated when he uses it. Not only does he use it here in the infamous error of all errors in sdr2, he uses it when he talks about hope, talent, and Junko. Shocking I know, but that’s why I had to go over that “Ai” (愛) is not just romantic love so this will be less awkward for all of us.

Ignoring the oddness of it and how dramatic this usage is, it’s incredibly in-character for Komaeda to use it like that considering his sincere and devoted nature when it comes to hope and talent. He says himself that what he feels is selfless, so that’s going to reflect in his speech, but he uses it so casually that it feels like a joke. It’s a quite poetic expression of love, even with all the cultural context, so it’s fitting. He’s pretty no filter with how he talks about it, but with anything else with Komaeda—it’s more complex than that. While being 100% honest with everything he says, his deep connection with hope and talent is borderline obsessive and that brings into question his relationship with love.

I have many thoughts on how his hope/despair stuff works, but let’s stay on topic this one time because a lot is intertwined. With his usage of “Ai” (愛) with reference of Junko, we should all know he doesn’t love her. He doesn’t love the embodiment of despair and despises it in the same breath he even expressed love for it at all. What he feels for Junko is obsession through and through, but what he feels is still genuine connection, it’s just absurdly twisted. It’s why he still uses it, even though at most what he feels for her is contempt. He “loves” it because it’ll be destroyed for what will truly shine in the end. The connection is deep enough for him to take her hand and finally become one with it.

Junko didn’t twist his concept of love completely, it was already a little off, she exploited the potential of it. I’ve mentioned this point before in my twitter thread, but when faced with the motivations in trials 1, 2, and 3 he cannot see past their motivations other than their “hopes”, rather than their actual reasons: various forms of love. My immediate thought while writing was, “was it not really absolute hope that he needed or wanted, but instead the selfless love people like Naegi or Hajime could wield for others?” I can’t tell you how correct that is, but it holds close to when he said what he wanted was somebody’s love before he died.

To really talk about that with more depth, I’d have to do a separate post about his view of people in general. If you’d like to see that, just let me know. I really would like to stay on topic, and you weren’t exactly asking about that.

Now don’t be weird guys, it doesn’t make his confession any less genuine just because his concept of love is kinda fucked due to only being able to feel it through his obsession with hope since all genuine connection is very limited (non-existent) for him, it just puts into more context as to why Hajime was confused. He’s said something similar about his feelings of hope as early as chapter 1.

Does this mean he really did just meant the hope that sleeps inside Hajime? Well obviously not, otherwise I wouldn’t be talking about this. It also doesn’t mean that his love for Hajime is on the same obsessive level as Hope, talent, or freaking Junko for the matter. Junko was a whole other situation when his mental stability was at its worst. Here’s what actually happened: right when he admitted he wanted somebody’s love, he immediately backpedaled that claiming everything he said was just something he lied about because he started to see that Hajime might want to grow closer and forgive him, and then then started rambling about total bullshit about Hajime killing him and the potential hope in him, even though he just said that he didn’t get the same feeling from him as other ultimates.

Very funny Komaeda, though I don’t think he wasn’t being genuine there. Maybe he did think that regardless of the “both miserable bystanders” comment because he also thought he himself could be ultimate hope in chapter 5. I feel like we knew this part well enough, so I’ll talk about the confession finally. I don’t know what compelled him to try and confess like that, but maybe he was trying to be more honest after what he did to derail him and backtracked again? Who knows.

He was starting with an actual confession, but why did he backtrack the way he did? I have two potential answers. First answer was that he didn’t want to weigh Hajime down with the burden of his feelings, and made it sound like his typical Komaeda bullshit instead. Second answer is that Komaeda doesn’t know how to express his love for Hajime and derailed it to Hajime’s hope instead because that’s the only context he’s used “Ai” (愛) in and is used to that. Him using it here doesn’t make it less sincere in his almost-confession, it’s just… complex.

Maybe if this was his only hint of loving Hajime, his feelings for him would be more controversial as “canon”, thankfully it isn’t! Maybe both answers are right in their own right, it would definitely correlate with my own thoughts about his stupidly complicated justification’s for getting closer to Hajime and making excuses for him. If you haven’t read it, I said that while Komaeda was catching feelings for Hajime as an individual, he made excuses for himself that the reason he cared for him was because he was an ultimate (meaning someone who carried potential Hope), but the only reason he let himself be close to a “supposed ultimate” was because we felt that they were similar and that he had “an air unlike the others”. Which was probably why he was so confused as to why he still cared after finding out what he did in chapter 4 because his justification no longer worked.

Although we know that Komaeda absolutely does love Hajime, I am relieved that they used different expressions of love here (both Suki and Dasuki) to make sure we know he does love him. Can it be used platonically? Sure, but the context does not position it like that.

That’s my um opinion I guess?? Hope you got more than what you were expecting? I wonder why I keep making long posts when it’s not going to get that much attention…. I was originally going to say that what’s important about him using “Ai” (愛) is the genuine intent there and not the romantic implication of it since context matters more, and that hasn’t changed at all, but this turned into a completely different conversation. My bad.

[stadiumbleachers]

i wanna be yours

Riri x reader

Summary: you like riri, riri likes you. eventually you both get your shit together

Content Warning: none, just a couple of useless lesbians

Word Count: 2.9k

Secrets I have held in my heart Are harder to hide than I thought Maybe I just wanna be yours I wanna be yours

...

Riri Williams was running late. Literally. Contrary to her friends’ belief that she was a robot programmed for engineering genius. She looked very human-like sprinting between the enormous rows of books in the Barker Library with her macbook clenched securely in the crook of her arm. 

The exit sign came into view, she picked up the pace. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she fished it out to check the notification without slowing down. She turned the corner while tapping away on her phone when someone ran into her, hard.

Riri was sent reeling back, tripping over her own feet to land square on her ass on the carpet. Her phone flew from her hand and skidded right to your foot. 

“Oof” she groaned

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry girl. I swear I didn’t see you” you reached out your hand to help her up and she took it

While she was busy brushing off her clothes and repositioning her belongings, you realized she looked very familiar. 

“Nah you’re good, I wasn’t looking either” she glanced up. finally. And once she got a good look at you, she forgot she was late

She shot you a smile and you quickly averted your eyes, opting to look at the ground. From this view you noticed you’re both wearing Nike Dunk Low Retros, but in different colorways. 

“Nice kicks” you told her

Riri looked down at her own shoes and noticed yours

“Thanks, I see you have good taste” Riri took her time taking you in, from your distressed jeans to your passion twists decorated with gold cuffs that fell to your waist

You cleared your throat, face hot from her obvious staring

“Well you obviously have somewhere to be, so I’ll see you around Riri” 

“Wait, how come you know my name and I don’t know yours?”

You left her question unanswered

…

Thrumming bass bounced off the walls of the vibrantly decorated auditorium. Strobe lights lit up the room, mirroring the energy of the people inside it. Fruit juice kept flowing in little red cups, fueling the fifty or so 10 year olds. It wasn’t exactly your kind of scene on a Saturday night but it would have to do. You sat by yourself behind a makeshift concession stand, occasionally filling up paper bags with popcorn and distributing candy. 

“Miss, do you have any more jolly ranchers?” a freckle faced little girl asked

“Sorry honey, we’re all out. But I can check by the front office if we have another bag, okay?”

She nodded, her little puff bouncing with it. You signaled to another volunteer to man the stand while you were gone. 

The front office was empty, most members of staff were at the party, so you took the key from where you knew it was stored and ventured into the overflowing store room for a bag of the candy. Once you found it you started to lock up the door when someone spoke up from behind you. The sound startled you and you flinched, almost dropping the candy. 

“Excuse me, I’d like to sign up my cousin for your after school reading programme, how would I do that?”

Your eyes widened at the person in front of you

“Riri! Hey” the words jumped out with more enthusiasm than you intended. You gripped the edge of the desk to stop yourself from slapping your hand over your mouth

Riri’s whole face filled up with a smile

“Hi”, her eyes drifted to your name pin, “you have a pretty name”

“Thanks…” you trailed off, content with just being in her presence. 

“So, um…the reading programme?”

“Oh, right” you gave her the right forms and explained the process to her

“Okay seems simple now”, she fiddled with the strings of her jacket, “do you work here?”

“Nah, I have to complete 100 hours of community service for my scholarship so I spend most Saturdays surrounded by children” you crossed your arms on your chest, her eyes followed

“That sounds like fun” Riri giggled, a sweet little sound that bubbled up from inside her, “I’ve been meaning to do some volunteering but I haven’t gotten around to it” 

“You’re so cute” you mumbled

“Huh?”

“I said we need some volunteers for the play so if you’re free two weeks from now, we’d really appreciate the help” you lied

Riri eyed you suspiciously 

“Of Course anything for you- the kids- I’d love to help the kids” she shuffled around awkwardly

“Great, let me give you my number and you let me know when exactly you’re free to swing by” you held out your hand and Riri handed over her unlocked phone

You programmed in your number, resisting the urge to add a little heart beside your name, then handed it back to her. 

‘I gotta get going, wild party back there” you hold up the bag of jolly ranchers and she laughs her pretty laugh then you part ways.

If you spend the rest of the night cheesing like an idiot, well that’s no one’s business is it?

…

Riri is really funny. Over the two weeks leading up the prep day for the play, the two of you texted non stop, day and night. One particular night when you couldn’t fall asleep you facetimed while she worked in her lab. There was never a dull moment when you were talking to Riri and you felt yourself getting attached to her, looking forward to your conversations each day. 

True to her word, Riri is sitting on the floor of your dorm room, with a hot glue gun in hand, putting together little fairy wings. 

“Ow, ow, ow” she cried out for the millionth time, blowing on her finger tips that were now red from the heat of the glue

“I told you to be careful, here” you took a wet wipe and carefully wiped off her finger

“I’m trying here. Kiss it better?” Riri pouted, her eyes big as saucer

“Oh poor baby” you obliged her and pecked the tip of her finger softly

“Feel better?” you asked her, teasing

Her face was suddenly very serious as she looked at you, “Mhmm”

 Her eyes shifted from your lips to your eyes, but you couldn’t afford to be distracted, you had 10 more pairs of wings to assemble and you were determined to finish it that night

“You’re a bad influence. Now finish gluing and keep your eyes on the screen” 

You had one of your favorite shows, Outlander on your laptop screen to entertain you while you worked, except you were giving most of your attention to Riri

Riri obediently finished the wings she was working on and moved to another pair before she asked you a question 

“What are you doing Friday?”

“Studying for my mid semester”

“How about Saturday?”

“Same thing”

“How about-”

“What do you want Riri?” your rolled you eyes playfully

“My friend and his band are performing at this new Cafe downtown on the weekend and I wanted you to go with me”

“Hmmm, maybe”

“What if I help you study?”

“You have to actually help me, not just distract me and make me laugh when I’m supposed to concentrating” you give her foot a little kick with yours and she kicks back

“You think I’m funny, ma?”

“Isn’t it obvious asshole?” you reply

“Okay deal” Riri reaches her hand out to shake and you take it 

“Oh and you have to let me paint your toes”

“No”

“Pleeaaasseee?” you crawled over to her spot on the floor and gazed at her under your lashes, while she shook her head furiously 

An hour later, Riri walked back to her dorm with her head in the clouds and her toes neatly painted sky blue. She secretly loved it, but you already knew that

…

“I can’t believe you’re whipped this fast. What’s it been, three weeks?”

“I’m not whipped Malachi, I just like her alot”

Riri sat at a table in the dark corner of the club, waiting for you to arrive with her friend who was in the band

“Have you kissed her?” he probed

“Nah, there’s been moments but it just didn’t happen”

“Hmmm” he scratched his beard, considering

“What does that mean?” she asked

“Oh nothing, look there’s your girl”

Riri swung her head around to find you and not for the first time, she was mesmerized by you. She greedily took in your appearance while you looked around the room for her. You wore strappy heels, black leather pants and a black halter top. The top was bordering on pornographic but you wore it anyway just for the way you knew Riri would be ogling you

After scoping the room, you spotted Riri and your face lit up. You crossed the room over to her and she met you in the middle, pulling you into a warm hug. In heels you were so much taller than her five foot frame and the smell of her coconut hair products lingered in your nose

When you pulled back you took a good look at her. She was wearing a black bodycon dress with black converse and a hoodie tied around her waist.

“You look so good Riri, but I feel overdressed” you speak directly into her ear over the noise of the club

“No,babe, you look gorgeous. I can’t believe you own a top like that” she allowed herself to get a good eyeful of your breasts before she took her your hand and led you to her table 

Sitting at the table was a guy unknown to you, he appeared to be saving the seats for you

“Malachi this my-,” Riri paused, uncertain of what title to give you

You filled in the blank, “I’m her friend” you told him your name and took her outstretched hand to shake it

“Nice to finally meet you. Riri never shuts up about you”

You giggled and watched as Riri shoved him to try to shut him up. You were about to ask him to elaborate when the MC’s voice cut above the noise of the crowd and announced the next set.

“Well that’s my cue” Malachi quickly took the out and left before you could pry further

“You be talking about me to your friends?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” she shot your own words back at you, rolling her pretty brown eyes 

You both took your seats and turned your attention to the band on stage. You had to admit they were good. You swayed to the beat of the music and noticed Riri drawing closer to you little by little. Eventually, she had her arm around your waist, hand gripping you possessively. 

Riri bought you both drinks and you felt yourself getting tipsy as the night progressed. But you still had the presence of mind to remember you had an exam to study for. 

“Riri I’m ready to go home now” you whispered in her ear

“Sure babe, let me just let Malachi know what’s up and then I’ll call you an Uber okay?”

“Mhmm” you hum and wait patiently for her to return then the two of you make your way outside of the club and wait for the Uber to arrive.

While you wait, the cold air of the night starts to bite into your skin. Riri notices you shivering and offers you her hoodie. 

You put it on gratefully, “Thanks”

“All good, mama. Gotta keep my girl warm, yeah?” Riri pulls you closer to her, tilting her head up to gaze into your eyes

You bite your lips, warmth spreading through your chest. You still were awestruck at how sweet Riri was under her carefree front she liked to put on 

“Riri can I-” the words get swallowed down. She pressed her lips on yours. The kiss was slow and deliberate, drawing out a whine you barely recognize as your own. Riri’s hands found your ass, gently rubbing in circles. You were getting hot, fast.

“Somebody ordered an Uber?” you jumped back from each other at the sound of the driver’s voice. You had completely zoned out from the outside world, not hearing the horn beeping 

You reached to remove the hoodie and return it to Riri when she stopped your hands

“You can keep it” she told you 

“Can I keep you?”

“I’ll think about it” 

Riri helped you into the car, closed the door then leaned into the window and planted a chaste kiss to your cheek. 

…

Hiding out in one of the MIT dining halls, with not one but two bald headed women flanking her, was Shuri Udaku. Once again she failed miserably at being inconspicuous. Since the last visit, people have been eager to spot her again, but with Riri’s help she managed to evade the crowd. 

The chaos of Shuri’s arrival had disturbed Riri’s schedule so as payback she decided to talk Shuri’s ear off about you. 

“She’s so smart and funny, but down to earth. Like super chill” 

“I’m sure she is, so when can I meet this girlfriend of yours?”

“Okay the thing is..” you began 

Okoye snorted

“The thing is we haven’t made it official yet” 

“What’s stopping you?” Shuri asked as she popped a cheesy fry into her mouth

“I don’t know, I’ll feel like I’m building up to it then she smiles and my brain just melts” she admits, embarrassed

Okoye couldn’t help herself from saying, “The genius is bested by a pretty face, this is too good”

Riri opened her mouth to respond but promptly shut it when she spotted you down in the quad through the spotless window of the dining hall. 

“There she is,” she pointed out to Shuri and the entire entourage watched as what can only be described as Riri’s most mortifying moment of the day unfolded. 

As you walked, a woman Riri recognized from the basketball team, ran up to you and covered your eyes. You uncovered them and your face lit up when you saw who it was. You threw your arms around her shoulder and she picked you up and spun you around. 

Riri felt herself deflate into the chair, “Oh”

…

You always prided yourself on your ability to not let anything distract you from your studies. So it pissed you off when you couldn’t focus on your lecture. Your pen flew quickly across the page taking notes, but your eyes flicked to your phone screen every few minutes. Your knee jerked uncontrollably with anticipation while you willed the last few minutes of class to tick by. 

After 3 days of radio silence from Riri and 5 unread messages, you were over it. You needed an explanation 

Who the hell did she think she was, anyway? She kissed you and groped you outside of a club and now she acted like she didn’t even know you. 

As soon as you were dismissed you grabbed your stuff to track Riri down, there was no way you were going to let her get off this easy with an explanation. 

…

Riri gently banged her head on the metal work table in front of her. She couldn’t get you out of her head and it was driving her mad. The truth is the guilt was eating her alive, you didn’t deserve to be ignored and she knew it. Riri pulled out her phone to text some sorry excuse when a banging at the front of her garage distracted her

She jumped up and grabbed the nearest thing, a hammer and slowly walked over to the door

“Who is that!?” she shouted into the dim room

“It’s me! Let me in before I freeze out here” you told her, annoyed

Riri opened the door and pulled you in quickly before anyone could see. It was your first time in her makeshift work space but you didn’t have time to take in your surroundings. You were on a mission to give Riri a piece of your mind, but she beat you to it

“How the hell did you find me?” she narrowed her eyes at you, assessing. She noticed you were wearing her hoodie

“First of all, you share your location with me, and second of all, you better watch your attitude because you’re the one who ghosted me. What the hell is your problem?” you fought not to raise your voice and bring attention to her lab 

She apologized immediately, “Listen, I'm so sorry,  I know I messed up, I was just so jealous and I get so stupid when it comes to you. I should have talked to you and I promise-”

You cut her off, “Jealous for what?”

“I saw you last week in the quad with that girl from the basketball team. I saw the way she held you and how you looked at her. It bothered me seeing you give someone else that smile” 

You were astonished at her honesty, “Aww Riri. That’s Taylor and she’s my friend from childhood, we’re like sisters. Which you would know if you bothered to ask me” 

“I know, I was dumb, but I promise I won’t ever do that again” Riri pulled you in and kissed away the pout from your lips

“Now how about I give my girl the grand tour?” 

“I’m not your girl,Riri” you chuckled at her facial expression 

“Why not?” 

“You never asked,” you told her, shrugging

“Oh, right,” Riri grabbed something from her work table and held it behind her back. “Would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

She pulled out a rose she welded out of iron and presented it to you, your heart swelled in your chest

“Yes, Riri. Isn’t it obvious?”

[shaolinrouge]

Okay, so I rewatched PR:U for the first time since its release, and I definitely had some thoughts.

To begin with, what is with the really bizarre product placement in the beginning. Jake did not need to hold up those Oreos so blatantly lmao.

PR:U jumps straight into the action in a really identifiably different way than Pacific Rim does. In PR, Raleigh narrates the Kaiju War and then we see him and Yancy get into the Knifehead fight, and it flows really well overall. On the other hand, PR:U starts with a quick relay of the Kaiju War, and then we're introduced to Jake in the regions still affected by past Kaiju attacks (i.e. half-destroyed mansion, which I also have some thoughts on). So it quickly becomes clear he's got some black market dealings going on, and the first action sequence of the movie is Jake running from these random Jaeger scrappers (??). It's just really throwing compared to the first one, since we at least have a general idea of what's going on with Raleigh.

Side note: I'm assuming they're in the Bay Area that was largely evacuated considering they head toward a Jaeger scrapyard, so how does that mansion have like...any utilities.

So then we're introduced to Amara, who can build a sickass Jaeger but has no security system? I don't know, she seems really careful about being discovered for obvious reasons, so I feel her hideout would at least have an alarm or some kind of traps, But Jake essentially just strolls in.

Of course, then we have November Ajax vs. Scrapper, which I actually do like. Its nice to see what the new Jaegers look like, and see what Scrapper, the first single-pilot Jaeger, is capable of. This scene also really seals the tone of PR:U as kind of lighthearted and jokey while also having action and death, which isn't really the case in Pacific Rim.

Another thing I like: Amara and Jake's relationship. A lot of things about this movie feel funky, but I think the actors did a very good job of forming a very genuine-feeling bond between these two characters.

Mako's introduction just feels. very bizarre. I understand that she obviously can't be there in person, thus the hologram, but the whole situation just has a weird vibe that I can't place. I'm not sure if it's because Jake and Mako act so familiar with each other even though Jake was never mentioned in the movie, or because I'm just not a fan of the hologram bit.

Contrary to popular opinion (at least what I've seen), I really like the Jaegers in PR:U. I hate that they removed the realism from their movements that was always present in the first, but there were some very interesting weapons and new designs introduced at the same time, so I can let it slide. Except the giant rotating ball of blades on Bracer Phoenix, it can go die.

Mako's death is genuinely my least favorite scene in the movie for obvious reasons. She was essentially killed off for no reason, since we don't see much of Jake's grief, meaning they wrote her off for pointless plot purposes, which I hate.

I do enjoy the villain bait with Liwen, although it's a shame Newton ended up being the villain. They were definitely setting her up as an antagonist since she was on a side somewhat opposite to Mako's, and because it becomes clear that Shao Industries is somehow evil before having her turn around and attempt to stop Newton no matter the force necessary.

While on women in the movie, not a huge fan of how Jules was treated, but she's also not present that much so I won't go on and on about female characters being used a tool to create tension being male characters blah blah.

The fight against the Mega-Kaiju was...something. Suresh dying was completely out of the blue, and I hated it. I think the cadets all being so young is an odd decision to make, especially because in the first movie most of the Jaeger pilots come into the program in their very late teenage years at the least (besides Chuck and Raleigh, iirc). They try to justify the whole. child soldier-esque training by saying the Bond is stronger at a young age, but they didn't even have that young of recruits in the first PR and that was during a war so idk.

Raleigh not being mentioned at all is also a crime btw. Or Herc, for that matter, but he could at least make a little more justifiable sense than Raleigh.

Anyway, this was a really scattered collection of musings on the movie, but there we go.

[caffeineandsociety]

I hate how a lot of people will just prepend "white" to their lateral aggression to make it out like what they're saying ISN'T a horrible bigoted stereotype, cringe culture, or both, but a super harmful behavior of the most privileged subgroup of this marginalized group-

Not least of all because it makes it all that much harder to talk about things that ARE constructs of white supremacy, but not OBVIOUSLY connected to whiteness.

For example, binarism isn't exclusive to white people, but it is rooted in white supremacy because it positions the male/female binary as THE absolute and scientific model of gender, not culture-linked at all, unlike the models of other cultures that may include (who we label as) trans, nonbinary, and/or intersex people as just...people who exist, not some kind of aberration; THOSE are basically just whimsical superstition from ancient times before modern medicine. It becomes obvious when you get that far out loud, but most people don't get that far! Most people stop at "there are men and women...and a few fringe cases, I guess", and never question it any further.

Strict adherence to Euroamerican diagnostic standards of disability is also an issue rooted in white supremacy - while we know more about medicine now than ever before, bodies are still complex and a lot of issues are still hard to pin down the causes of, especially when they're mental/behavioral/neurological; theres a lot we know, but a lot more that we still don't. These days we share scientific literature around the world, but it doesn't change the fact that conventional wisdom implies different relations between different symptoms and conditions in different cultures, and it's naive at best to assume that all the correct ideas that will lead to new breakthroughs are found in Europe and North America and everyone else is, again, just superstitious. It's also dangerous to assume that the impacts of disability are identical no matter where you go, and not just in terms of what accommodations are available; sometimes culture can even affect how symptoms manifest - for example, schizophrenia tends to come with much less scary hallucinations in cultures that don't demonize people who have it.

The idea that every culture models the concept of race the same way, while more obviously race-related, is another white supremacist idea that often flies under the radar, which is particularly alarming to me considering how fast it can turn a critique of stereotypes exported to various parts of the world into basically leftist-flavored race science.

There is a problem with a subset of environmental activism that refuses to meet the urgency of the moment, aims to solve the problem through "premium" consumer products, or insists that climate change is coming for us all "equally" when it's not - it's coming for us all eventually, yes, but the people hit the first and the hardest are the impoverished people in areas that already have difficult climates to live in who can't afford to move, this is already causing wars and wildfires and more - but that doesn't mean that all environmental concerns are just white virtue-signaling, contrary to stereotypes.

There are more examples - a LOT more examples. It gets much harder to talk about these connections when instead people are, for example, taking respectability politics potshots at random queer people and calling it anti-racism because "stop being such a stereotype, you're making us all look bad" rightfully doesn't fly.

[measuringbliss]

Spider-Man Read-Through 013: The War on... (ASM 93-99) P1

MASTERPOST

In this set of issues, Harry fights his addictions (to male muscles and to drugs), MJ is a floozy (good for her), and Peter doesn't have much luck (as usual).

Depicted above: Harry being confused because his beard girlfriend is seducing his crush, while Harry himself is being seduced by another dude.

Right off the bat, I'm very sad because what the heck! The last time we saw Spidey and the Prowler interact, there wasn't any bad blood between them, far from it. Ooooh, I don't like this...

Just look at John Romita Sr.'s stunning artwork. It's not just that these panels look out of a romance story; they embody how soapy the magazine has become after Romita's takeover. I'm not surprised people were receptive to it; it offers a remarkable counterpart to the action moments. The melodrama is gripping, and both sides feed each other, similarly (if not exactly) to the spy/romance TV show "Chuck" from 2007.

Seriously though, look how handsome Peter is. Look how pulpous Gwen is. Look at their expressiveness, at their attractive features, at their posture. It's excellent artwork. Even when the stories are lackluster, the art rarely disappoints. Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.

So anyway, Peter's about to use the big guns to keep Gwen here, which. *sigh* We all know what happens to her. It feels reminiscent of TASM2. I'm bittersweet.

Peter remembers he is Spidey, and recognizes he has no right to ask Gwen to stay.

By the way, I love his outfit. It's *very* different to what we've seen before. I'm not sure it really actually works, but I sure love it.

Turns out the reason the Prowler is an antagonist in this issue is that he has a hard time trusting Spidey after hearing about Captain Stacy's death. Another way the action and the melodrama influence each other! I'll accept it. I'm actually happy to know Hobie has an opinion on this.

And since Romita knows how to retain customers, he gives us some fanservice. Hell yeah. For what's worth, I still haven't seen any lady in such a getup in these comics yet. It's not the only way to show appealing stuff, of course, but it's still significant that in a magazine like Spider-Man, which seems to be aimed at boys first (if you forget Romita's arrival), you see more of the gents. Obviously, I'm simplifying this whole thing, but I had to mention it.

This batch of issues might be in two parts (or more!) since I'm spending so many screenshots gasping in admiration of the art.

Even as though the Prowler tries to kill him, Spidey helps him break his fall by telling him to use his claws. And of course, he calls him Hobie. He undresses him (to hide his secret identity, naturally) and drops him at the nearest hospital.

Spidey goes to Gwen's to try and tell her the truth --he's absolutely determined-- but he's informed she's en route for the airport. Oof. TASM2 flashbacks once again. She's even heading for Britain too! For a different reason (family in London/studies at Oxford).

But contrary to your typical rom-com, Peter doesn't arrive in time to catch Gwen. Reality ensued.

What a great issue! I absolutely loved it.

Not to sound like a broken record, but he can get it.

The first seven pages of the issue are a recap of Peter's origin story, which combined with the uninspired cover really gives off the impression the plot idea was paper-thin. At least the art is nice!

Betty is also reintroduced, but more importantly, Peter is wearing the exact same shirt as last issue's -- but different pants.

By page 15, the plot finally starts and Peter stops dwelling on the past because May's been kidnapped by the Beetle. About the most fun thing about this fight is that they crash into a public swimming pool. Audacious way to give me fanservice. I'll take it!

I have to assume Betty being reintroduced is a way to fuel a new love triangle. Oh well. Isn't she married to Ned Leeds? Is he going to be back too? I'd love that.

In the next issue, Spidey goes to London! He's wearing again his yellow jacket/blue pants combo that I adore so that's a good sign. Robbie proves he's the best character by telling Peter to go "work" for the Bugle in London.

Gwen is absolutely depressed when she notices that Spidey has been hunting her across continents. She just can't seem to get rid of him!

Anyway, Spidey finds the people he has to save in Big Ben. You know. A clock tower. Oof.

On page 19, Peter finally thinks about the question I had from the beginning: was he really expecting to be able to speak to Gwen, with everybody knowing Spidey's in London too?

YES.

If you remember, he's been aware that Peter's Spidey for. like. maybe two years? He had amnesia, but the last time we saw him was a while ago and he wasn't amnesiac anymore. But it appears Spectacular Spider-Man #2 took place after that since Norman obviously doesn't know who Peter is.

Everybody goes to see some shows, and May and Anna are going to see Hair. I really need to watch it hahaha, it's been on my list for a small while.

A man tries jumping off a building but Spidey saves him, and a cop kisses the man. A boy asks about it but his mom is quick to reassure him that homosexuality does not exist. It is P U R E L Y P R O F E S S I O N A L (you know, like Robbie and Stacy's interest in Spidey).

These panels dangerously sound like a kids' after special, but I appreciate the attempt. To think Peter would deal with this much more closely in a few years...

(Edit after finishing the batch: OOPS. Harry's drug problem was not a novelty in 1973.)

MJ's once again trying to make Harry jealous --and succeeding, confusing both men.

By then, Randy's totally integrated to the group (which is lovely) and he decides to call out Norman for not doing anything on the War on Drugs, which is definitely a big theme here (with the Green Goblin's persona being even compared to drugs).

MJ also makes a dick joke and good for her.

Harry tries to shoo away his homosexuality ("she's so great, right dad? huh? are you proud of me yet?") and Peter does his best concerned face.

The issue ends with MJ getting a standing ovation, the Green Goblin back and his memories fully restored. Oof. How's that war on drugs going, Pete?

In this post's last ish (#97!), Harry has been having a really hard time dealing with his buried sexuality, no thanks to Peter, who keeps hanging around, wearing not much.

Peter can't help being a condescending asshole, naturally, it's part of his character after all, but I wish he used other words in his head for Harry. It also reeks of the writers not having quite enough knowledge to handle the subject appropriately. But oh well. it was mid-1971. I suppose it comes from a good place. I just can't help but imagine Peter would try and convince me not to take ADHD meds because ~I'd get addicted to them~.

Let's just say: the writers are trying.

Hilariously enough, it looks like Harry's really trying to get *Peter* out of his mind.

Talking about Peter, his outfits have recently gotten quite... Bohemian. Not that I necessarily dislike it, but this is intriguing.

When Harry gets back home, Peter thinks for a moment that it's the Goblin. Ha. Ha. Ha.

It's very sad to see Harry's fall (not that he ever was really high), and what must happen happens.

That's a nice cliffhanger to end this post on. I'm also getting tired, and I'm not sure I can put many more pictures here.

See you soon, all two of you who read my posts!

[literaticat]

Hi Jenn. Kinda a two-tier question but about the same thing. Is there ever a case where you might approach a small press for a client's books, either because you've exhausted all larger publishers and/or because the client requests that you do - maybe because they just want to see the book published even if it means little or no money. Would you do this even if the publisher was not offering an advance? And, more generally, I do sometimes see other agents have deals in PW with small, sometimes very small presses, and I wonder why they did the deal, especially if there was no or little advance. Just for the sale/starting out? Because the client requested it? Etc. etc. Is it worth an agent's time? Whatever info you can give on this type of thing, either from personal experience or in general. Thank you.

Obviously agents would love for every book we rep to be sold in a hotly contested auction for a metric butt-load of $$$ -- but this is the real world. There are all types of books, and all types of deals, and, you know, what can you do? Contrary to popular belief, it's not ALL about the advance.

Some smaller publishers, like say, Charlesbridge, do a wonderful job editorially and keep books in print forever, so even if the advances are on the low side compared to massive publishers, that money will be earned in royalties in the long term. We sell to them plenty, it's not a problem.

Some small publishers are quite prestigious, and just make really beautiful, extraordinary books, and it's worth it to the author to take a low advance to have something so perfect and special. That's certainly not for every book -- or even many books -- but for some books, that might be just the right fit.

(I'm thinking here of, say, New York Review Books Classics Collection. I sold a reissue of a book to them and it was and remains one of my favorite sales I've ever done. Did it have a big advance? No -- but it's earned royalties every year, and also, it came out beautifully, and was a new life for a book that is very beloved and deserves to be in print. If they, or say, Enchanted Lion, or Flying Eye Books, were to come a'knockin - I certainly wouldn't turn them away!)

(Also, I've sold to some pretty small publishers, and I don't think we've ever gotten NO advance. Small? Yes. Entirely invisible? I don't think so, unless it was some kind of experiment that I just don't remember, like the royalties were super high or something???)

So basically -- idk, it all depends on the project. For MOST projects, I'm going to start with the biggest publishers and add in some mid-sized and small-but-mighty publishers as appropriate, and see what happens. If a publisher is good, is making a good-faith offer, the author is happy and wants to take it, etc, it's inherently 'worth my time' -- presumably this is just one deal in a career with all kinds of different deals over the course of many years, I'm not going to ever say that a deal isn't worth my time just because it's on the smaller side. All this stuff adds up.

I would personally not be likely to send to EXTREMELY small publishers unless my client requested it and/or there was some specific reason to do so. Because, well, I usually don't know them, and it usually would never come up. But sometimes it does. (Like, real example, it's a book about Yosemite and I know that the Yosemite Conservancy publishes beautiful books about Yosemite and I happen to know the editor there -- well then, sure, why not. But I'm not scouring the earth to find the smallest or most niche publishers! THAT would not be worth my time.)

I also would not personally submit to publishers I don't trust to actually pay and publish the book well and have my author's best interest at heart.

If my client was DYING to send to some random schmuck publisher I don't trust or mess with, I'd tell them all the reasons it's a bad idea. If they insisted and I really felt like they were making a bad mistake, they would have to do that deal on their own or find another agent, because I can't in good conscience DELIBERATELY get a client into a bad situation. There are enough bad situations in publishing already without seeking them out on purpose!

[myjunkisyuzuruhanyu]

Same anon as before and thank you so much for your fast and super detailed reply! It explains a lot, especially the bit about scoring. I had no idea shoma’s technique was so controversial ( I just think he’s beautiful on ice and I love the way he moves, and that’s enough for me ^^;)

Can’t believe ppl think his family buy his scores though, is his family *that* wealthy? ( I mean they’re obviously well off, but).

I’m also well aware of the controversy around his words and I personally think it’s a steaming pile of bullshit. I hate current internet culture where you just need to say something stupid ( if it was him at all) once and you’re cancelled forever. smh. I can’t believe people still bring that up. Especially given that it happened in a very dark period of his life, I can only imagine how Shoma was feeling in that period :/ anyways, I’m really happy to see him in a much better place now 🥰

I’m so grateful for his YouTube channel too, it really gave me so much insight into his personality and I find him super endearing. I want to sit his haters in front of those videos and make them watch all of them u.u

Anyways, I guess I will just stay away from the toxic fan communities from now on ^^; do you have any recommendations for places (beyond tumblr) that are good for Shoma fans?

Thank you again <3

No need to thank, glad I could help. I'd rather answer such things quickly if I see them as I don't like to have them in my inbox. Better tick off the uncomfortable questions...

___

Yes Shoma's technique is controversial, but Shoma is far from the only skater with technique issues on the contrary many skaters have technical issues. Shoma only gets more hate because he wins and because skaters with the "right" technique don't "benefit in scoring" from their technique being better.

___

Anyone in this sport is from rather wealthy families. I don't know any skater who isn't "well off" however I do think that Shoma's family can be called rich. (there are fans who look for the prices of the stuff they have at home as what you can see on the puppy YT channel and they own loads of exclusive and expensive stuff)

Shoma buying his scores is big fat bs. There is no proof or any words of any official that ever pointed to this direction. It was just made up and spread by haters. Ppl who believe such bs are ppl who don't know how scoring works and can't properly evaluate Shoma's skills in this sport. I don't say that money can't have influence in scoring but any money cannot help Shoma land quads and develop the skill that he has. He was praised for his skating skills back in juniors when he wasn't even able to land 3A or quads and experts found it rather sad that such a talented guy would probably never win titles without the high scoring elements but as we know things turned out differently. In scoring consistency and reputation is key. Shoma may not always be clean but he can still deliver better than most other competitors and his results are pretty consistent. Shoma managed to stay one of the top skaters throughout his complete senior career, that's something that doesn't happen this often.

___

The only advice I have is to curate your own social media spaces. Hate can be anywhere. Block ppl on platforms who hate on Shoma, there is no use to argue with them. Then any social media platform can be a nice space.

I only use Tumblr and Twitter, but I know that Reddit for example is also quite nice for Shoma fans. Goldenskate forum has a Shoma fan fest section and there will only be talk about Shoma and hate isn't tolerated and will be deleted. (I know there can be drama in other general threads on other skating topics but as I don't use it I can't tell for sure)

Tumblr is mostly a safe space for Shoma fans, but as Twitter could crash at any day I see many Twitter users get back here and I can only hope they're not bringing the toxicity with them. But tbf I think it's easier to avoid hate on Tumblr as you need to tag words to make them show up in the search. You can also just stay with those you follow and you won't see any hate at all. (and thank goodness the confession block is gone) (and also because you can't see the number of followers you won't know who is "popular" around here and how blogs are connected and you can like whatever you want and it won't show up in recommendations)

There is one space for Shoma fans I can wholeheartedly recommend and use quite frequently but you should send me a PM that I can invite you to it as it's a little group of Shoma fans who created their own space.

[back-and-totheleft]

"We didn't set out to make this a tract"

The Hollywood Reporter: When was the last time you were at Cannes?

Oliver Stone: There was a “Platoon” commemoration in 2006. The movie came out in 1986. Right before the movie, I showed a 26-minute clip of “World Trade Center,” which wasn’t quite finished, but was coming out that August.

THR: What was that experience like for you?

Stone: Charlie Sheen was there with me, and Tom Berenger and Willem Dafoe, so it was quite a nice reunion for all of us. The film was shown afterward. It really worked very nicely. Obviously, more people had come at the beginning to see the clip, but most of the house was full. But I got in and got out. This is my first film at Cannes.

THR: But you’ve been there many times, right?

Stone: We did get some passes in the past. I remember, going back to “Salvador.” It was shown in some form at Cannes, I don’t know if it was a finished film. “The Doors” came out approximately that same time period, in March. I can’t remember if “Doors” was officially submitted or not. Sometimes you don’t submit, you just feel out. Sometimes a distributor is showing it. The official heartbreaker was “Natural Born Killers.” Because that came out in August and we could sure have used that.

THR: Was that submitted?

Stone: Yes. But there was an objection to the violence. And then we went to Venice and actually we got a jury prize there, in August (1994), right before we came out. And then we had “U Turn” turned down in ’97. It would have helped to have “U Turn” there. Listen, those are the breaks of the game. And this is certainly a nice feeling. Because I’m 63 years old, that’s why. The festival is 63 years old, and I was born in 1946, the first year of it. It will be fun, I hope. It’s a bit of a zoo with all the people requesting tickets. It’s like everyone wants to go to your Super Bowl.

THR: You produced “Blue Steel,” which was in the Directors’ Fortnight. Did you go with that?

Stone: Perhaps. I remember being with (Ed) Pressman at some point, and Kathryn (Bigelow) was there. I also went to sell “Alexander,” actually. That made a big difference. It was an independent movie. We started it in Cannes, we lined up the buyers and we ended up making the key deals that made the film possible.

THR: So you have somewhat of a history with it, but not the official experience. Are you going to live it up this time?

Stone: No, not at all official. I’ve generally been in and out quickly. For jet lag reasons I’m going to go a little bit earlier. I’m going to bring my family. I’m going to arrive and hang out for a couple days and try to dry out, and then I’ll go into the workload on Thursday. And it goes very fast — Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and then I’ll probably be out by Sunday.

THR: With “Wall Street,” were you reluctant at all to revisit that world and these characters after so much time?

Stone: No, not at all. On the contrary, after 2008 it made sense. You realize, the first movie was a bookend to this. We thought it was over, the history of that greed. We thought it would balance out, there would be a correction. There was no correction! (laughs) The pendulum kept going one way, and it got bigger and bigger. I only wish I had stayed in Wall Street. It got insane. And when I went back in 2008, the millions had become billions. It’s an amazing story of multiplicity and greed. It’s unbelievable what happened.

THR: And to think that it could go beyond that…

Stone: It went way beyond it. Honestly, have you ever thought about what a billion dollars is? It’s like a thousand million! They used to make deals where 250 million bucks seemed like a lot of money. And now, boy, a billion dollars is an entry to a fuckin’ club for a hedge fund. It’s just amazing to me. And the losses as a result are so huge. When the numbers become artificial it doesn’t seem like real damage is being done, but it is.

THR: Right, there’s something about numbers so big you can’t wrap your head around them, so you don’t really pay attention.

Stone: But that’s the problem. You see, we get to this place where insane speculation sets in and it destroys economies, it cannibalizes economies.

THR: So you felt that there was definitely more for you to say on this.

Stone: Yeah, that’s the point. I wouldn’t have entered into it as a sequel primarily. First of all, the first one would have been forgotten by much of the younger generation. We didn’t want to make a sequel. We wanted to make an exploration of Wall Street at this time period, which is actually 22 years later. And I think we came up with an interesting angle, because the Gekko character is not quite what he seems. He’s now been away, he’s been humbled and he’s a small piker in this deal. He’s no longer a significant figure. So he’s a man on the edges who’s trying to get back in the game.

THR: Did Michael Douglas take any persuading to step back into that role?

Stone: On the contrary, it was him and Ed Pressman who were leading the charge with Fox. If anything, I had some doubts because it was 2006. I turned down the previous script.

THR: And then Allen Loeb’s script changed your mind?

Stone: Allen Loeb wrote a script in March 2009 that I saw. That was the one that hooked me. Then Allen and I did a significant amount of work to update it. But no, I had passed in 2006 because there didn’t seem any point. These guys were making so much money it was insane.

THR: Was there any worry that things were moving so fast — and there was a new Wall Street scandal every week — that this movie would seem dated by the time it came out?

Stone: Yes, absolutely. I did a lot of research, met with a lot of people, got some very good insights from people like Eliot Spitzer — who is back in the news — but he was one of the earliest investigators of these cases. You remember, he was the guy who originally got the biggest settlement out of AIG back in 2006. Spitzer, among other people, told us exactly what had happened — back in 2009. He was saying Goldman was shorting, and “Look into this AIG-Goldman thing.” Which we ended up doing. Allen’s script in March was about hedge funders. And I said, “Look, this is much bigger, we’ve got to go to a bigger level here, we’ve gotta go to the banks.”

THR: And when you were doing that research and filming on location did you field much static from people who knew what you were doing?

Stone: Again, it was like the first film. It was really a tremendously wearying process of getting new information, meeting with people at all times, getting new takes. And obviously, sometimes financial people disagree with each other. The conservative banks would not deal with us, no. They would not let us in. Goldman sealed their floors to us. We did get pictures of the inside of it for production design reasons. They were very arrogant. But the people who talked to us were the independent guys like George Soros, Jimmy Chanos — there was a long list of 50 people who consulted with us. Also, we met with a lot of young people who had worked through this whole period — because we had young people for Shia. There are guys and girls who are 25, 26, and they had come right out of business school, gotten their jobs around 2003, 2004, and then — boom — two, three years in they hit this thing. And it was unbelievable. The old guys who normally would be the captains of the ship, most of them were freakin’ out. And the young people said, “What’s going on?” And the old guys would say, “We don’t know. This could be it. The ship could be going down ….” So these young people got what they called in Vietnam “on-the-job training” — you learn it as you go. We had dinner with about 14 of them one night, including some Google women who were telling us incredible stories about that mad week in September.

THR: Did you talk to any of the bankers who were involved?

Stone: We got the perspectives of some of the people who bet against the shorts, some of the bankers who had worked there, we met with people who had worked with the old system and the new system, we met with a few people who worked at Lehman Brothers. Bear Stearns — we met with someone there. We got an overview. But the banks closed their doors, including locations. They did not want us anywhere close. But we had decided, unlike the original, not to build the set. We set everything on location — 43 locations in 57 days. In Manhattan, that’s quite a lot. We moved constantly. And we had the permission of newer trading places like Knight, which is in New Jersey, to shoot on their huge trading floor on weekends. We got permission from Creditex to shoot on their floor on weekends. Our biggest break came when the Royal Bank of Canada called back, and they were extremely gracious, they said, “By all means, we’d love you to shoot here.” The Royal Bank of Canada was one of the few banks that behaved impeccably in this period and made a profit and continued on. And everyone applauded Canada’s behavior because they had different rules. Europe was going down, the whole world was affected. But here was the Royal Bank of Canada — unlike the Royal Bank of Scotland, which was a disaster — the Royal Bank of Canada was impeccable. (laughs) That was a wonderful break for us, because it was a classy looking bank and gave us the right feeling that we needed for Goldman — I don’t want to say Goldman, I want to say “from The Bank” in the film. Don’t pinpoint me.

THR: Do you have plans to screen this for Geithner or Paulson or Obama or Greenspan or those guys?

Stone: Eventually, yeah. But I want to make this work as a movie. I think it’s exciting. I want it to play for an audience.

THR: Do you expect much grief? This seems like another meatball for op-ed pages.

Stone: We didn’t set out to make this a tract.

THR: No, but you and the material combined are a bit of a lightning rod. You’ve gotta expect some flare-up.

Stone: Yeah. Yeah. But I’m not trying to … you know, Michael Moore made a very strong documentary. But it’s not that at all. We’re really here to tell a story that would last through time like the original. I think we got our hands around a story: relationships between father and daughter and the new man in her life — there’s a triangle there. There’s an interesting story with Frank Langella and Josh Brolin. An interesting sidebar with Susan Sarandon. So, like the original, we based this on solid relationships, and in fact I think we developed some of these relationships to a more mature and deeper place than they were in 1987.

THR: Do you expect a different response in Europe than in America?

Stone: Man, that’s always been a tough call. When I did “World Trade Center,” in Europe they were really tough on me because they thought it was patriotic. And I was trying to say, “This is a true story! These two guys really went through this, it’s an amazing story of survival.” They wanted me to make a film that was condemning the American response. But that wasn’t the point. With “W.,” which was about George Bush, I couldn’t condemn him enough. So you never know where Europe is going to be on America. Look, to me this is a movie that’s beyond this moment in time. And that’s always an issue for me when films open. Because if you make films about social issues you run into the Big Now. The Big Now sometimes can put things in a screwball way.

THR: Have you moved your own money or investments around because of the behavior of the last few years?

Stone: Oh, yeah, like everyone else I took a hit in 2008, yeah. I couldn’t escape it because it was almost a comprehensive hit. I mean, the system is out of control. The solution has got to be regulation but there are other issues at stake. The nature of banking has changed. Banking when I did the film in 1987 was not this business it has become. It was boring. At least there were decent rates of return. Now there’s no interest rate, they’re just raking it in. This is a crazy system.

THR: Do you think there’s any hope for financial reform?

Stone: Oh, yeah, I do hope so. There’s a self-correcting factor in the market, but there has to be some kind of strong regulation. I really believe in that. And I don’t believe these free-market buccaneers are doing us any good. The banks have become buccaneers. Essentially, they’ve lost their job. They’ve become something else. I remind you, though, you used to be able to have a savings account and make an interest rate. You cannot do that anymore. That’s what is fundamentally wrong for the consumer. It makes you gamble. It makes you part of this casino crap. There are too many casinos in this country, we don’t need more.

THR: Do you think you’ll be revisiting Wall Street in another 22 years?

Stone: Why not? We left it open at the end in a way on which we can hang a “Wall Street 3.” We’ll have Gekko back and maybe Josh Brolin, too.

-Oliver Stone Q&A with The Hollywood Reporter, May 12 2010

[giolitti]

The Adventures of Jack Ma

altered reality

He blinks, slowly wakes up, looks around him and begins to try to understand where he is. Everything is white, the light coming in through the window is so blinding that he cannot see outside. He wants to get up, but he cannot move. Jack Ma, the billionaire founder of Alibaba, was on top of the world. His company had grown into a global giant, making him one of the richest men in China. But all of that changed one day when he was involved in a serious accident that left him unable to walk.

At first, Jack was devastated. He had always been an active person, and the thought of being confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life was overwhelming. But as he began to come to terms with his new reality, he started to see the world around him in a different way.

As he spent more time in hospitals and rehabilitation centers, Jack became acutely aware of the challenges that many people faced when it came to accessing healthcare. He saw how difficult it was for people without his financial means to get the treatment they needed, and how many were forced to rely on government-funded programs that were often inadequate. This realization was a turning point for Jack. He began to see the importance of socialist policies that aimed to provide universal healthcare and other social services to all citizens, regardless of their income or social status.

In the end, Jack's accident proved to be a life-changing experience, leading him down a path that he never could have anticipated. But despite the challenges he faced, he emerged from the experience with a renewed sense of purpose and a deep commitment to creating a better world for all.He started to offer his business knowledge to different countries and cities to promote equality. Most of them distrusted him or told him that they could imagine the end of the world rather than the end of capitalism. The Krakow City Council was the only one interested in cooperation. But only after they were corrupted by one of Ma's employees, but he doesn't need to know that. 

Ma starts to spend a lot of time In Krakau and he deepens his understanding of culture and life there. 

He does a lot of research and wants to give the citizens something back with the large amounts of money he finds through this. He seeks justice and meaning without rest. Overdoses of painkillers, lack of sleep and overwork lead to increasingly abstract dreams of Ma as he tries to find a solution. He falls asleep over his papers. When he wakes up, he finds himself in the school of Athens. All present speak in confusion but in Ma's voice.

The school of Athen, reloaded

Birth is the birth (of) presence. (1) Life is the root of all existence, and the non living, nature in its inert form, is merely spent life; mere being is the non being of life. (2) But is presence coming into this world or out of this world? We live all the more removed from the world to the extent that we become occupied with one another. (3)

And so livings beings live in deviation from equilibrium. (4) The Christian selfishness of bliss is necessarily transmuted in its completed practice into the material selfishness of the Jew, heavenly needs become earthly needs, and subjectivity becomes egoism. (5) Hence they fall into errors, thinking those things to be above nature, or contrary to nature, which indeed are by nature, and according to nature. (6) But whatever nature can’t do is against nature.(7) So the relation between the surface meaning and the hyponoia or ‘deeper sense’ is itself unstable and complex. (8) Therefore, I say, take care of the soul; for from the soul issue our thoughts, from the soul our words, from the soul our dispositions, our expressions, and our very gait. (9) It is not a good thing to live, but to live well. (10) 

Ma sits there in amazement asking: But how to create to good life, when obviously all the goods that we collect don’t lead to that?Is it only possible through honoring the present? 

Is time then always different or does the same time recur?(11) It is because we have a clear zone that we must have a body charged with traveling through it or exploring it, from birth to death. (12) Time is not the interior in us, but just the opposite, the interiority in which we are, in which we move, live and change. (13). But time passing away by its changefulness, cannot be co eternal with changeless eternity. (14) And just as the eternal god moves the universe, which is partly mortal, so too does the eternal soul move the fragile body. What is always in motion is eternal; but whatever brings motion to something else and is itself stirred up from elsewhere, when that motion ceases must necessarily cease its life. (15) In conclusion, time isn’t the motion of an object.(16) But to become aware of that you first have to focus on the object and its instability. True, they must be, because it is impossible to know that which is not.(17) Therefore it will be in being: for everything must either be or not be. (18)

Ma nods, unsure Whether he has understood nothing at all or has just experienced enlightenment.

‚So how can someone materialise that, draw attention to that which lies outside the material? How can one return from the edge of the universe without losing itself again in the universe? Certainly not by reproducing the existing structures.

In thought its end is truth, in action justice. (19) Only when 2 billion are consumed without a future goal does the present become meaningful. The eternal decay of a common house, leads to constant work. Seeing or even inflicting suffering is a structure of life as active life, an active manifestation of life. (20) It will bring the society together and raise awareness to the insignificance of worldly needs. 

The target of this intervention is to show men that they are mistaken, that they are looking for the truth elsewhere (ailleurs), that they are looking for the principle of good and evil elsewhere, that they are looking for peace and happiness elsewhere, and that they will not find them where they are actually looking. (21) Humanity will free itself from the delusion of separation and ego. Hence, we imagine a harmony among all the parts of the universe that creates all their interconnection. (22) In any event, the signified is thought not to exist outside of its relationship with signifier, and the ultimate signified is the very existence of the signifier, extrapolated beyond the sign.(23) We will understand that the ‚Difference that exists outside the system is terrifying because it reveals the truth of the system, its relativity, its fragility, and its mortality.’ (24) While we still lose not awareness that ‚Each living thing must have a separate substance; but since all the things mentioned above have a single soul, consequently they can be separate living things but without plurality.‘ (25) Birth and death, and the difference between the sexes, are the complex themes of problems before they are the simple terms of an opposition. (26) So may one day we can tell them who are still suffering that ‚Only when they have paid off the debt of their time will it become clear whether there is still so much personal stuff left that it is worth settling accounts over.‘ (27) 

Ma grins, the more he knows the less he understands rationally. Although it has attained the form of objectivity, it is yet always to contain my subjectivity. (28)

Ma wakes up, he has a headache, the door bursts open and a bald man runs in and pours a bucket of water over him. Shocked, he wakes up again, this time he is sitting on a dune, in front of him are the pyramids. 

Everywhere else in the world people live separately from their animals, but animals and humans live together in Egypt. (29) Will this dream ever end? 

altered reality

He blinks, slowly wakes up, looks around him and begins to try to understand where he is. Everything is white, the light coming in through the window is so blinding that he cannot see outside. He wants to get up, but he cannot move. Jack Ma, the billionaire founder of Alibaba, was on top of the world. His company had grown into a global giant, making him one of the richest men in China. But all of that changed one day when he was involved in a serious accident that left him unable to walk.

At first, Jack was devastated. He had always been an active person, and the thought of being confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life was overwhelming. But as he began to come to terms with his new reality, he started to see the world around him in a different way.

As he spent more time in hospitals and rehabilitation centers, Jack became acutely aware of the challenges that many people faced when it came to accessing healthcare. He saw how difficult it was for people without his financial means to get the treatment they needed, and how many were forced to rely on government-funded programs that were often inadequate. This realization was a turning point for Jack. He began to see the importance of socialist policies that aimed to provide universal healthcare and other social services to all citizens, regardless of their income or social status.

In the end, Jack's accident proved to be a life-changing experience, leading him down a path that he never could have anticipated. But despite the challenges he faced, he emerged from the experience with a renewed sense of purpose and a deep commitment to creating a better world for all.He started to offer his business knowledge to different countries and cities to promote equality. Most of them distrusted him or told him that they could imagine the end of the world rather than the end of capitalism. The Krakow City Council was the only one interested in cooperation. But only after they were corrupted by one of Ma's employees, but he doesn't need to know that. 

Ma starts to spend a lot of time In Krakau and he deepens his understanding of culture and life there. 

He does a lot of research and wants to give the citizens something back with the large amounts of money he finds through this. He seeks justice and meaning without rest. Overdoses of painkillers, lack of sleep and overwork lead to increasingly abstract dreams of Ma as he tries to find a solution. He falls asleep over his papers. When he wakes up, he finds himself in the school of Athens. All present speak in confusion but in Ma's voice.

The school of Athen, reloaded

Birth is the birth (of) presence. (1) Life is the root of all existence, and the non living, nature in its inert form, is merely spent life; mere being is the non being of life. (2) But is presence coming into this world or out of this world? We live all the more removed from the world to the extent that we become occupied with one another. (3)

And so livings beings live in deviation from equilibrium. (4) The Christian selfishness of bliss is necessarily transmuted in its completed practice into the material selfishness of the Jew, heavenly needs become earthly needs, and subjectivity becomes egoism. (5) Hence they fall into errors, thinking those things to be above nature, or contrary to nature, which indeed are by nature, and according to nature. (6) But whatever nature can’t do is against nature.(7) So the relation between the surface meaning and the hyponoia or ‘deeper sense’ is itself unstable and complex. (8) Therefore, I say, take care of the soul; for from the soul issue our thoughts, from the soul our words, from the soul our dispositions, our expressions, and our very gait. (9) It is not a good thing to live, but to live well. (10) 

Ma sits there in amazement asking: But how to create to good life, when obviously all the goods that we collect don’t lead to that?Is it only possible through honoring the present? 

Is time then always different or does the same time recur?(11) It is because we have a clear zone that we must have a body charged with traveling through it or exploring it, from birth to death. (12) Time is not the interior in us, but just the opposite, the interiority in which we are, in which we move, live and change. (13). But time passing away by its changefulness, cannot be co eternal with changeless eternity. (14) And just as the eternal god moves the universe, which is partly mortal, so too does the eternal soul move the fragile body. What is always in motion is eternal; but whatever brings motion to something else and is itself stirred up from elsewhere, when that motion ceases must necessarily cease its life. (15) In conclusion, time isn’t the motion of an object.(16) But to become aware of that you first have to focus on the object and its instability. True, they must be, because it is impossible to know that which is not.(17) Therefore it will be in being: for everything must either be or not be. (18)

Ma nods, unsure whether he has understood nothing at all or has just experienced enlightenment.

So how can someone materialise that, draw attention to that which lies outside the material? How can one return from the edge of the universe without losing itself again in the universe? Certainly not by reproducing the existing structures.

In thought its end is truth, in action justice. (19) Only when 2 billion are consumed without a future goal does the present become meaningful. The eternal decay of a common house, leads to constant work. Seeing or even inflicting suffering is a structure of life as active life, an active manifestation of life. (20) It will bring the society together and raise awareness to the insignificance of worldly needs. 

The target of this intervention is to show men that they are mistaken, that they are looking for the truth elsewhere (ailleurs), that they are looking for the principle of good and evil elsewhere, that they are looking for peace and happiness elsewhere, and that they will not find them where they are actually looking. (21) Humanity will free itself from the delusion of separation and ego. Hence, we imagine a harmony among all the parts of the universe that creates all their interconnection. (22) In any event, the signified is thought not to exist outside of its relationship with signifier, and the ultimate signified is the very existence of the signifier, extrapolated beyond the sign.(23) We will understand that the ‚Difference that exists outside the system is terrifying because it reveals the truth of the system, its relativity, its fragility, and its mortality.’ (24) While we still lose not awareness that ‚Each living thing must have a separate substance; but since all the things mentioned above have a single soul, consequently they can be separate living things but without plurality.‘ (25) Birth and death, and the difference between the sexes, are the complex themes of problems before they are the simple terms of an opposition. (26) So may one day we can tell them who are still suffering that ‚Only when they have paid off the debt of their time will it become clear whether there is still so much personal stuff left that it is worth settling accounts over.‘ (27) 

Ma grins, the more he knows the less he understands rationally. Although it has attained the form of objectivity, it is yet always to contain my subjectivity. (28)

Ma wakes up, he has a headache, the door bursts open and a bald man runs in and pours a bucket of water over him. Shocked, he wakes up again, this time he is sitting on a dune, in front of him are the pyramids. 

Everywhere else in the world people live separately from their animals, but animals and humans live together in Egypt. (29) Will this dream ever end? 

1 Derrida, Of Grammatology

2 Foucault, The Order of Things

3 Serres, Geometry

4 Serres, The Birth of Physics

5 Marx, Collected Works

6 Agrippa, Three Books of Occult Philosophy

7 Aquinas, Selected Philosophical Writings

8 Heraclitus, The Art and Thought of Heraclitus

9 Seneca, Complete Works

10 Seneca, Complete Works

11 Aristotle, Physics

12 Deleuze, The Fold

13 Deleuze, Cinema 2 The Time Image

14 Augustine, The City of God

15 Cicero, On the Commonwealth and On the Laws

16 Augustine, Confessions

17 Aristotle, Ethics

18 Aristotle, Physics

19 Deleuze Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus

20 Deleuze, Nietzsche and Philosophy

21 Foucault, The Courage of the Truth

22 de Condillac, Philosophical Writings of Etienne Bonnot

23 Deleuze Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus

24 Girard, The Scapegoat

25 Seneca, Complete Works

26 Deleuze, Difference and Repetition

27 Hermann Hesse, Steppenwolf

28 Hegel, Philosophy of Right

29 Herodotus, The Histories