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captainfantasticalright · 6 months

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In 1985, one of the only persons interested in an interview with a “new” writer called Terry Pratchett, after his publication of the Colour of Magic, was one Neil Gaiman. Neil Gaiman was writing for Space Voyager at the time. "The Colour of Pratchett" was the name given here:

It ran exactly one page inside the June/July issue of that year. The interview took place in a Chinese restaurant in London.

Here is Neil many years later holding that issue. You can see it here if you want. Warning: extremely emotional video.

Neil arrived wearing a grey homburg hat. “Sort of like the ones Humphrey Bogart wears in movies” he later wrote. (Before saying that in fact he did not look like him, but like someone wearing a grown-up’s hat). Terry Pratchett, photo courtesy of one @neil-gaiman, was in a Lenin-style leather cap and a harlequin-patterned pullover. At this point, Terry was already a hat person, although not that hat.

Terry offered Neil this : "An interview needn't last more than 15 minutes. A good quote for the beginning, a good quote for the end, and the rest you make up back at the office"*. (Terry Pratchett had worked many years in journalism by this point ).

But the meeting went terribly well. The two of them realized they had "the same sort of brains". So well indeed, that in 1985, Neil had shown Terry a file containing 5282 words, exploring a scenario in which Richmal Crompton's William Brown had somehow become the Antichrist. Was a collaboration in the cards as of that moment? Not really. But Terry found in Neil someone to whom he could send disks of work in progress and to whom he could pick up the phone sometimes when he hit a brick in the road of his writing.

Terry loved it and the concept stayed in his mind. A couple of years later, he rang Neil to ask him if he had done any more work on it. Neil had been busy with The Sandman, he had not really given it another thought. Terry said, "Well I know what happens next, so either you sell me the idea or we can write it together". **

On collaborating together:

Here is a video of Sir Terry saying why he chose to collaborate with Neil, another video talking about the technical difficulties of writing a book when the two of them where miles apart ,and some pages from Interzone Magazine Issue 207 published December 2006:

An Interview with Sir Terry Pratchett and his works- and Neil Gaiman, where he shortly addresses the process of writing Good Omens.

Terry shortly mentions,

“Neil doesn't rule out another book with me and he was good to write with...yep, it could happen. With anyone else? I don't know, but probably not.?”

Neil says,

"Terry took that initial 5,000 words of mine and ran it through the computer (because I’d lost the files in a computer crash) and made it the first 10,000 words, and it was definitely Good Omens at that point. Neither one thing nor the other, but a third thing.”

"I think Terry could do a very good impersonation of me if he needed to, and I could do a very good impersonation of him; so we knew the area of the Venn diagram in which we were working. But mostly the book found its own voice very quickly. It helped that we were both scarred by the William books when we were kids...”

And as you know, unless you’ve been living in Alpha Centauri, the rest is history. That was the beginning of what would become William the Antichrist and later would get the name Good Omens:The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. (Title provided by Neil Gaiman and subtitle by Terry Pratchett).

More about the writing process:

Terry took the first 5,000 words and typed them into his word processor, and by the time he had finished they were the first 10,000 words. Terry had borrowed all the things about me that he thought were amusing, like my tendency back then to wear sunglasses even when it wasn't sunny, and given them, along with a vintage Bentley, to Crawleigh, who had now become Crowley. The Satanic Nurses were Satanic Nuns.

The book was under way.

We wrote the first draft in about nine weeks. Nine weeks of gloriously long phone calls, in which we would read each other what we'd written, and try to make the other one laugh. We'd plot, delightedly, and then hurry off the phone, determined to get to the next good bit before the other one could. We'd rewrite each other, footnote each other's pages, sometimes even footnote each other's footnotes. We would throw characters in, hand them off when we got stuck. We finished the book and decided we would only tell people a little about the writing process - we would tell them that Agnes Nutter was Terry's, and the Four Horsemen (and the Other Four Motorcyclists) were mine.

From the introduction to William the Antichrist:

“In the summer of 1987 several odd ideas came together: (..)I found myself imagining a book called William the Antichrist, in which a hapless demon was going to be responsible for swapping the wrong baby over, and the son of the US Ambassador would be completely undemonic, while William Brown would grow up to be the Antichrist, and the demon would need to stop him ending the world. The unfortunate demon, whom I called Crawleigh, because Crawley was a nearby town with an unfortunate name, would have to sort it all out as best he could.

It felt like a story with legs.

Terry took the 5,000 words, and rewrote them, calling me to tell me what he was doing and what he was planning to do. The biggest thing he was going to do, he told me, was split the hapless demon into two characters – a would-be-cool demon in dark glasses (which was, I think, Terry’s way of making fun of me, a never-actually- cool journalist in dark glasses) who had renamed himself Crowley, and a rare-book dealer and angel called Aziraphale, who would embody all the English awkwardness that either of us could conceive.”

William the Antichrist being a direct inspiration of the 1976 film The Omen. If the baby swap had just been a little bit messier and the kid had gone off somewhere else he would have grown up as somebody else. “And then there was a beat and I thought, I should write it, it will be called William the Antichrist” says Neil. ***

“The first draft of Good Omens was a William-book. It was absolutely in every way it could be a William book. It had Violet Elizabeth Bott, it had William and the Outlaws, it had Mr. Brown”.

Over time they realized that they would have more creative freedom if they in their own words filed off the serial numbers. William and the Outlaws becoming Adam and the Them.

But the spirit of Just William was never far away.

The joy for Neil was to construct “perfectly William sentences”. The one when Anathema tells Adam that she has lost the Book, and he tells her that he has written a book about a pirate who became a famous detective and it is 8 pages long… that’s “a William sentence”.

If you want to read more details about William The Antichrist, here are some slides I made.

Good Omens was also inspired by a particularly antisemitic moment in The Jew of Malta and John le Carre's spy novels. (Neil’s ask)

Then I was reading The Jew of Malta by Kit Marlowe, and it has a bit where the three (cartoonishly evil) Jews compare notes on all the well-poisoning and suchlike they’d done that day, and as a Jew who never quite gets his act together, it occurred to me that if I were the third Jew I’d just be apologizing for having failed to poison a well… And suddenly I had the opening of a book. It would be called William the Antichrist. And it would begin with three Demons in a graveyard… (x).

“When we finished the book we estimated that the words were 60% Terry’s and 40% mine, and the plot, such as it was, was entirely ours.” -Neil Gaiman

"Neil and I had known each other since early 1985. Doing it was our idea, not a publisher's deal." "I think this is an honest account of the process of writing Good Omens. It was fairly easy to keep track of because of the way we sent discs to one another, and because I was Keeper of the Official Master Copy I can say that I wrote a bit over two thirds of Good Omens. However, we were on the phone to each other every day, at least once. If you have an idea during a brainstorming session with another guy, whose idea is it? One guy goes and writes 2,000 words after thirty minutes on the phone, what exactly is the process that's happening? I did most of the physical writing because: 1) I had to. Neil had to keep Sandman going -- I could take time off from the DW; 2) One person has to be overall editor, and do all the stitching and filling and slicing and, as I've said before, it was me by agreement -- if it had been a graphic novel, it would have been Neil taking the chair for exactly the same reasons it was me for a novel; 3) I'm a selfish bastard and tried to write ahead to get to the good bits before Neil. Initially, I did most of Adam and the Them and Neil did most of the Four Horsemen, and everything else kind of got done by whoever -- by the end, large sections were being done by a composite creature called Terryandneil, whoever was actually hitting the keys. By agreement, I am allowed to say that Agnes Nutter, her life and death, was completely and utterly mine. And Neil proudly claims responsibility for the maggots. Neil's had a major influence on the opening scenes, me on the ending. In the end, it was this book done by two guys, who shared the money equally and did it for fun and wouldn't do it again for a big clock." "Yes, the maggot reversal was by me, with a gun to Neil's head (although he understood the reasons, it's just that he likes maggots). There couldn't be blood on Adam's hands, even blood spilled by third parties. No-one should die because he was alive." -("Terry Pratchett : His World”)

(Here are some slides of mine where I go into some other details concerning the origins of Good Omens).

Another wonderful insight with Rob Wilkins in "The Worlds of Terry Pratchett".

*Quote: from Terry Pratchett A Life With Footnotes by Rob Wilkins, but said by Terry of course.

** All the quotes, facts listed here : see above.

***all other quotes by Neil Gaiman from various interviews and asks I’ll link.

#good omens #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens fun facts #the colour of magic #the colour of pratchett #space voyager magazine

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verstappen-cult · 4 months

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Following today’s Imola observations, can we get a charles praise kink👀👀

Charles is high on adrenaline as he climbs out of the car. And then on the podium and even on the press conference. He’s exhausted and not so happy with the result he had this weekend, but can’t deny how thrilling it is to see all the tifosi shouting and cheering for him and Ferrari.

He still can hear the “Ole, Ole, Ole, Leclerc, Leclerc” from his driver’s room.

And it’s not until Charles is, finally, in the comfort of his home that he feels all the emotions of the day coming back full force.

“Charlie?” You ask at hearing the door being closed, standing from the couch and walking to greet him.

“Hey, baby.” He smiles tiredly at you.

“I wanted to wait for you but thought it was better if I just came back home.” You shrug, shortening the distance. Charles arms immediately find your waist, pulling you flush against his body. “You did so great today, Char.”

Charles cheeks heat up, eyes glazing over. “Oh, I’m not so sure about that.”

“What are you talking about? You did an amazing job all weekend.” You tangle your fingers in his hair and he willingly lets you pull his head back. “First Ferrari driver to be on the podium since 2006, uh?”

Charles face is impossibly hot, his cheeks so red that you can’t help but find it cute. All the blood on his body going to very different places. “Since Michael.” He whispers, flustered.

“That’s huge, Charlie.” You say with a proud smile on your lips while massaging his scalp. You lean forward and attach your lips to his jaw, kissing your way down to his neck. Charles closes his eyes, letting out soft sighs and feeling like putty in your hands. “And second in the championship too.”

Charles can’t help himself, all the praises doing weird things to his brain, and so he moans. He would feel embarrassed in any other situation but not today.

“Your home race is next,” Your left hand slowly makes its way downwards, the pad of your fingers stroking his cock through his pants. “Nobody can beat you there, you know Monaco like the palm of your hand. Don’t you, Charlie?” You wait for him to reply but he is silent for a whole minute, too lost in the pleasure, so you bite his earlobe to pull him out of it. “I asked you something, Charles. Don’t you think it is rude to ignore when someone asks you a question?”

“Yes, sorry. Sorry—” He finishes with a groan when you pull hard on his hair, exposing more of his neck.

“You will win in Monaco, Charles.” You pull away just enough to look him in those green, sparkling eyes. “And everyone will cheer for you as you stand on the top step of that podium.” Charles thrust into your hand and you place your leg between his, so he can rub against your thigh. “All the fans shouting your name—just like they did today. Can you imagine it already? How will that feel?”

Charles should feel embarrassed about how little it takes for him to come in his pants. But not today.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x you #f1 drabble

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 6 months

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Oooh! A great Gavin Finney (Good Omens Director of Photography) interview with Helen Parkinson for the British Cinematographer! :)

HEAVEN SENT

Gifted a vast creative landscape from two of fantasy’s foremost authors to play with, Gavin Finney BSC reveals how he crafted the otherworldly visuals for Good Omens 2.

It started with a letter from beyond the grave. Following fantasy maestro Sir Terry Pratchett’s untimely death in 2015, Neil Gaiman decided he wouldn’t adapt their co-authored 1990 novel, Good Omens, without his collaborator. That was, until he was presented with a posthumous missive from Pratchett asking him to do just that.

For Gaiman, it was a request that proved impossible to decline: he brought Good Omens season one to the screen in 2019, a careful homage to its source material. His writing, complemented by some inspired casting – David Tennant plays the irrepressible demon Crowley, alongside Michael Sheen as angel-slash-bookseller Aziraphale – and award-nominated visuals from Gavin Finney BSC, proved a potent combination for Prime Video viewers.

Aziraphale’s bookshop was a set design triumph.

Season two departs from the faithful literary adaptation of its predecessor, instead imagining what comes next for Crowley and Aziraphale. Its storyline is built off a conversation that Pratchett and Gaiman shared during a jetlagged stay in Seattle for the 1989 World Fantasy Convention. Gaiman remembers: “The idea was always that we would tell the story that Terry and I came up with in 1989 in Seattle, but that we would do that in our own time and in our own way. So, once Good Omens (S1) was done, all I knew was that I really, really wanted to tell the rest of the story.”

Telling that story visually may sound daunting, but cinematographer Finney is no stranger to the wonderfully idiosyncratic world of Pratchett and co. As well as lensing Good Omens’ first outing, he’s also shot three other Pratchett stories – TV mini series Hogfather (2006), and TV mini-series The Colour of Magic (2008) and Going Postal (2010).

He relishes how the authors provide a vast creative landscape for him to riff off. “The great thing about Pratchett and Gaiman is that there’s no limit to what you can do creatively – everything is up for grabs,” he muses. “When we did the first Pratchett films and the first Good Omens, you couldn’t start by saying, ‘Okay, what should this look like?’, because nothing looks like Pratchett’s world. So, you’re starting from scratch, with no references, and that starting point can be anything you want it to be.”

Season two saw the introduction of inside-outside sets for key locations including Aziraphale’s bookshop.

From start to finish

The sole DP on the six-episode season, Finney was pleased to team up again with returning director Douglas Mackinnon for the “immensely complicated” shoot, and the pair began eight weeks of prep in summer 2021. A big change was the production shifting the main soho set from Bovington airfield, near London, up to Edinburgh’s Pyramids Studio. Much of the action in Good Omens takes place on the Soho street that’s home to Aziraphale’s bookshop, which was built as an exterior set on the former airfield for season one. Season two, however, saw the introduction of inside-outside sets for key locations including the bookshop, record store and pub, to minimise reliance on green screen.

Finney brought over many elements of his season one lensing, especially Mackinnon’s emphasis on keeping the camera moving, which involved lots of prep and testing. “We had a full-time Scorpio 45’ for the whole shoot (run by key grip Tim Critchell and his team), two Steadicam operators (A camera – Ed Clark and B camera Martin Newstead) all the way through, and in any one day we’d often go from Steadicam, to crane, to dolly and back again,” he says. “The camera is moving all the time, but it’s always driven by the story.”

One key difference for season two, however, was the move to large-format visuals. Finney tested three large-format cameras and the winner was the Alexa LF (assisted by the Mini LF where conditions required), thanks to its look and flexibility.

The minisodes were shot on Cooke anamorphics, giving Finney the ideal balance of anamorphic-style glares and characteristics without too much veiling flare.

A more complex decision was finding the right lenses for the job. “You hear about all these whizzy new lenses that are re-barrelled ancient Russian glass, but I needed at least two full sets for the main unit, then another set for the second unit, then maybe another set again for the VFX unit,” Finney explains. “If you only have one set of this exotic glass, it’s no good for the show.”

He tested a vast array of lenses before settling on Zeiss Supremes, supplied by rental house Media Dog. These ticked all the boxes for the project: “They had a really nice look – they’re a modern design but not over sharp, which can look a bit electronic and a bit much, especially with faces. When you’re dealing with a lot of wigs and prosthetics, we didn’t want to go that sharp. The Supremes had a very nice colour palette and nice roll-off. They’re also much smaller than a lot of large-format glass, so that made it easy for Steadicam and remote cranes. They also provided additional metadata, which was very useful for the VFX department (VFX services were provided by Milk VFX).”

The Supremes were paired with a selection of filters to characterise the show’s varied locations and characters. For example, Tiffen Bronze Glimmerglass were paired with bookshop scenes; Black Pro-Mist was used for Hell; and Black Diffusion FX for Crowley’s present-day storyline.

Finney worked closely with the show’s DIT, Donald MacSween, and colourist, Gareth Spensley, to develop the look for the minisode.

Maximising minisodes

Episodes two, three and four of season two each contain a ‘minisode’ – an extended flashback set in Biblical times, 1820s Edinburgh and wartime London respectively. “Douglas wanted the minisodes to have very strong identities and look as different from the present day as possible, so we’d instantly know we were in a minisode and not the present day,” Finney explains.

One way to shape their distinctive look was through using Cooke anamorphic lenses. As Finney notes: “The Cookes had the right balance of controllable, anamorphic-style flares and characteristics without having so much veiling flare that they would be hard to use on green screens. They just struck the right balance of aesthetics, VFX requirements and availability.” The show adopted the anamorphic aspect ratio (2:39.1), an unusual move for a comedy, but one which offered them more interesting framing opportunities.

Good Omens 2 was shot on the Alexa LF, paired with Zeiss Supremes for the present-day scenes.

The minisodes were also given various levels of film grain to set them apart from the present-day scenes. Finney first experimented with this with the show’s DIT Donald MacSween using the DaVinci Resolve plugin FilmConvert. Taking that as a starting point, the show’s colourist, Company 3’s Gareth Spensley, then crafted his own film emulation inspired by two-strip Technicolor. “There was a lot of testing in the grade to find the look for these minisodes, with different amounts of grain and different types of either Technicolor three-strip or two-strip,” Finney recalls. “Then we’d add grain and film weave on that, then on top we added film flares. In the Biblical scenes we added more dust and motes in the air.”

Establishing the show’s lighting was a key part of Finney’s testing process, working closely with gaffer Scott Napier and drawing upon PKE Lighting’s inventory. Good Omens’ new Scottish location posed an initial challenge: as the studio was in an old warehouse rather than being purpose-built for filming, its ceilings weren’t as high as one would normally expect. This meant Finney and Napier had to work out a low-profile way of putting in a lot of fixtures.

Inside Crowley’s treasured Bentley.

Their first task was to test various textiles, LED wash lights and different weight loadings, to establish what they were working with for the street exteriors. “We worked out that what was needed were 12 SkyPanels per 20’x20’ silk, so each one was a block of 20’x20’, then we scaled that up,” Finney recalls. “I wanted a very seamless sky, so I used full grid cloth which made it very, very smooth. That was important because we’ve got lots of cars constantly driving around the set and the sloped windscreens reflect the ceiling. So we had to have seamless textiles – PKE had to source around 12,000 feet of textiles so that we could put them together, so the reflections in the windscreens of the cars just showed white gridcloth rather than lots of stage lights. We then drove the car around the set to test it from different angles.”

On the floor, they mostly worked with LEDs, providing huge energy and cost savings for the production. Astera’s Titan Tubes came in handy for a fun flashback scene with John Hamm’s character Gabriel. The DP remembers: “[Gabriel] was travelling down a 30-foot feather tunnel. We built a feather tunnel on the stage and wrapped it in a ring of Astera tubes, which were then programmed by dimmer op Jon Towler to animate, pulse and change different colours. Each part of Gabriel’s journey through his consciousness has a different colour to it.”

Among the rigs built was a 20-strong Creamsource Vortex setup for the graveyard scene in the “Body Snatchers” minisode, shot in Stirling. “We took all the yokes off each light then put them on a custom-made aluminium rig so we could have them very close. We put them up on a big telehandler on a hill that gave me a soft mood light, which was very adjustable, windproof and rainproof.”

Shooting on the VP stage for the birth of the universe scenes in episode one.

Sky’s the limit

A lot of weather effects were done in camera – including lightning effects pulsed in that allowed both direct fork lightning and sheet lightning to spread down the streets. In the grade, colourist Spensley was also able to work his creative magic on the show’s skies. “Gareth is a very artistic colourist – he’s a genius at changing skies,” Finney says. “Often in the UK you get these very boring, flat skies, but he’s got a library of dramatic skies that you can drop in. That would usually be done by VFX, but he’s got the ability to do it in Baselight, so a flat sky suddenly becomes a glorious sunset.”

Finney emphasises that the grade is a very involved process for a series like Good Omens, especially with its VFX-heavy nature. “This means VFX sequences often need extra work when it comes back into the timeline,” says the DP. “So, we often add camera movement or camera shake to crank the image up a bit. Having a colourist like Gareth is central to a big show like Good Omens, to bring all the different visual elements together and to make it seamless. It’s quite a long grade process but it’s worth its weight in gold.”

Shooting in the VR cube for the blitz scenes .

Finney took advantage of virtual production (VP) technology for the driving scenes in Crowley’s classic Bentley. The volume was built on their Scottish set: a 4x7m cube with a roof that could go up and down on motorised winches as needed. “We pulled the cars in and out on skates – they went up on little jacks, which you could then rotate and move the car around within the volume,” he explains. “We had two floating screens that we could move around to fill in and use as additional source lighting. Then we had generated plates – either CGI or real location plates –projected 360º around the car. Sometimes we used the volume in-camera but if we needed to do more work downstream; we’d use a green screen frustum.” Universal Pixels collaborated with Finney to supply in-camera VFX expertise, crew and technical equipment for the in-vehicle driving sequences and rear projection for the crucial car shots.

John Hamm was suspended in the middle of this lighting rig and superimposed into the feather tunnel.

Interestingly, while shooting at a VP stage in Leith, the team also used the volume as a huge, animated light source in its own right – a new technique for Finney. “We had the camera pointing away from [the volume] so the screen provided this massive, IMAX-sized light effect for the actors. We had a simple animation of the expanding universe projected onto the screen so the actors could actually see it, and it gave me the animated light back on the actors.”

Bringing such esteemed authors’ imaginations to the screen is no small task, but Finney was proud to helped bring Crowley and Aziraphale’s adventures to life once again. He adds: “What’s nice about Good Omens, especially when there’s so much bad news in the world, is that it’s a good news show. It’s a very funny show. It’s also about good and evil, love and doing the right thing, people getting together irrespective of backgrounds. It’s a hopeful message, and I think that that’s what we all need.”

Finney is no stranger to the idiosyncratic world of Sir Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

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gisellecnz · 2 months

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

💌 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Teen!Gojo Satoru x Teen!fem!reader

💌 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: The most worst thing Gojo never wanted to happen became true. But after meeting the new transferee, all his problems went away.

💌 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: Highschool 2009 jjk, Gojo being sad after the Geto incident, Reader is a transferee from Kyoto Jujutsu high, Reader is a 2nd year and Gojo is a 3rd year, fluff, slight angst

💌 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Might actually consider making this into a series... From Gojo meeting you for the first till you both are married and have children AACKKKK. Also, if you're wondering why it's not 2006, the year where gojo and Geto separated happened during 2009 and they were 3rd years

💌 𝐖𝐂: 1.4k

2009 — 2 days after Gojo and Geto separated.

That sickening feeling of regret gripped Satoru as he sat down on the rough, stoned surface of the stairs outside Jujutsu high. He tried to reminisce the moments he had shared with his one and only, best friend Suguru Geto. He hoped that it would relieve his feeling of remorse after the incident. But instead, it made him feel worse. So worse that it made him feel more empty–an emptiness that was sinking deeper and deeper into the dark. He's the strongest, but why couldn't he save his loved ones? He just wishes that he had the ability to rewind the time.

EVERYONE knew that the two bestfriends were inseperable. Yet, was what so important to Satoru had been taken away from him.

Not until......

"Yo, Satoru, are you okay?" Shoko asked as she was approaching the white-haired man, who seemed depressed. Who did nothing but just stared at the ground while sitting on the stairs. It was rare to see Satoru in this state—His usual joyful and playful attitude replaced by a quiet demeanor now, made Shoko feel bad for him.

"...Yeah, I'm fine, it's just that... " He paused, not knowing what to say afterwards. He couldn't think of any excuse.

"... Don't worry, I understand." Shoko replied as she pulls out another cigarette. Searching for the lighter in her pocket.

"..Oi, Ieri-san, what do you think, am I the strongest because I'm Satoru Gojo? Or am I Satoru Gojo because I am the strongest?" He has been pondering about the same questions over and over, and still couldn't find the answer to it. But just now Shoko was too busy with her cigarette, that she didn't perceive what was Gojo was saying.

"Sorry, we're you talking to me?" Shoko puffed the smoke out of her mouth, and puts the cigarette back in to her lips.

Gojo sighs, "Well, forget it. Let's just go, that old man might start exploding by now if we go back to his class late again. " He finally stood up from the staircase as he walks together with Shoko back to class whilst watching the bright blue sky through his sunglasses.

After a few walks on the way to class, Shoko spots an unfamiliar girl who was wearing the same uniform as her, she had a pretty face. But the girl seemed puzzled of where she is right now.

Shoko taps on Gojo's shoulder, "Hey, is that the new transferee from Kyoto? I heard she's the same year as Nanami."

Gojo looked down from the sky, "Eh? Ha? What transferee? Whe–oh... " The moment he laid his eyes on you, he felt a rush of emotions. He's confused of what he is feeling. Why is his heart beating so fast? Why does his face feel hot? What? What?? You're even prettier than the model that he has as his wallpaper on his phone, just who are you?

(hey!! Waka inoue is very VERY pretty, this is just based on Gojo's perspective in my fic) (Also, think of this as the bg music of this scenario the moment gojo lays his eyes on you)

The way he is feeling right now felt so soothing and comforting, as if that emptiness he felt earlier felt like it was no longer there anymore.

He felt weird—for him, he felt like there was a connection between the two of you. His six eyes tell him that he's just crushing over you, but his soul tells otherwise. You were absolutely WAY more than that.

"Oi! Satoru! Stop daydreaming, that girl seems confused right now. We should ask her." Shoko snaps her fingers in front of Satoru's face, bringing him back to reality. "O-okay...!" His whole body tensed, and Shoko cringed at his reply.

As they approach you, your gaze met Satoru's, he feels even more tense. By now his face turned as red as a tomato.

You quickly ran towards them, feeling relieved that you finally found people that you can ask help with finding your dorm. You may have been to Jujutsu high's sister school, but this school was way different than the one in Kyoto.

"Oh thank goodness. I'm a little lost right now, but you guys must be the 3rd years. I'm [last name, first name]. I'm a transferee from Kyoto Jujutsu high. Nanami-san has told me about what you guys looked like in case I ran into you. " You said shyly.

Shoko smiles at your introduction, she knew you the both would get along well. "I'm Ieri-san, I work with healing a ton of people. And this is–" The moment Shoko points at Satoru, he scratches the back of his head, trying to avoid looking at you. Fuck, he's never acted like this in front of new people before. What were you doing to him? The only thing he could do right now is just to shyly wave his hands at you. "–Gojo. He may look stupid but he's actually really strong, he's a special grader."

Shoko went to take a look at Satoru, thinking why he was so quiet. Usually when he goes to introduce, he'd go boasting. He could even take an hour to introduce himself. The way he looks right now was so awkward–Red face, sweating, the way his eyes were avoiding to look at you, and he ONLY waved at you. Now that she has given a thought to it, mischievous thoughts filled up in her mind. She now found a new way to tease Gojo.

Upon hearing their introduction, your face lit up. They sounded really cool! You were happy to have them as your seniors. At that moment you didn't notice Gojo's awkwardness; you were more concerned about finding your dorm. But you wouldn't mind a little talk with them.

"Oh, I've heard a lot about you and your insane powers! You're really famous. I knew you were in Tokyo Jujutsu high. So when I was gonna transfer, I was looking forward to meet you." You were referring to Gojo.

When you looked up at him, his sunglasses were resting on the bridge of his nose, revealing his ice-blue eyes. His long white lashes framed them perfectly. His eyes we're sparkling like a sunlight above the rim of his glasses. You were slightly taken aback by how breathtaking his eyes looked. And he also had a well sculpted face. Now you understood why you kept hearing girls squeal about this particular guy.

After Gojo heard your comment about him, he felt like he could seriously melt at this moment. He stuttered a short "...T-thanks..." in reply. How long will he stay here talking with you? He can't take it anymore!

And it seemed like the gods heard his prayers, Shoko gave Gojo a teasing look. She pat his shoulders and told you that he wasn't really feeling well today. "Sorry, this guy kinda got a fever today. He'd go bragging about himself if he wasn't. He's gonna have to go back to his dorm right now." Shoko looked at Gojo with raising her one eyebrow up, giving him a teasing smile. It pissed Gojo off that she knew he had an instant crush on you. But anyway, she still helped him. "Gosh darn it you Shoko. "—he mumbled.

You turned to look at Gojo to see he was turning away now, a little disappointed that you guys didn't really get to talk that much.

"...Oh, I see. Get well soon then!" You yelled, but not too loudly as Gojo was about to head back to his dorm. But after all the talking, you remembered why you were here in front of Shoko—"Oh yeah. I forgot to ask something, it says my dorm is **** but I don't know where it is. Please help me find it!"

And after that, she was able to help you find your dorm, but the thing is..

*what happened after*

Satoru: "Shoko, what the fuck do I do. It's like I'm being tested, her dorm is right next to mines!!!??" he panics.

Shoko: "Looks like somebody's whipped..." *she raises both her eyebrows up and down repeatedly*

Satoru: "Oh my gosh shut up, I feel like I could melt any minute. What the heck is that woman doing to me... "

Shoko: "You were all emo and stuff earlier, now you're all giddy? She really did a huge impact on you. Aaaanddd it's the first time you were acting timid."

Satoru: "I know! When I first saw her, it felt so weird. I dont know how to explain it! It's like....weird in a good way.... "

tags: @byakuya61085 @angelsleepinggurl

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x reader #jjk fluff #satoru x reader #gojo satoru

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diettwistup · 4 months

Text

HALF OF YOU

PAIRINGS: tashi duncan x f!oc, art donaldson x f!oc, patrick zweig x f!oc

SUMMARY: No matter how bright Tashi Duncan shined, her best friend, Milan Mikaelson, wasn’t far behind. Though seeming second best, Milan would never let that define her career. Holding as much fame as Tashi, Milan encountered Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson. Would this encounter change the trajectory of her life, and would it completely alter her relationship with Tashi Duncan?

WARNINGS: challengers spoilers, reader is milan mikaelson, sexual situations, language, angst, plot alterations.

WC: 5.1K

NOTES: hiiii!!! hope y’all enjoy this next chapter cuz it’s not my fave thing ever LOL. was also too lazy to proofread so sorry if there's errors. i’m also gonna be going on vacation with no internet for a little over a week so next update will be after that! thanks for reading luv u 💋

READ BEFORE THIS: INTRO and ONE

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE TROUBLE

CHALLENGERS TOURNAMENT, NEW ROCHELLE - 2019, 1:00 PM

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I gripped my dress as Tashi got up and cursed before walking off, disappointed with Art’s performance.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going.” I shot and grabbed her wrist, eyeing her up as I took my sunglasses off.

Shaking my grasp off of her, she bent down and spoke dangerously close to my face.

“If he’s not gonna play tennis, then I don’t wanna see shit.” She seethed and walked off, brushing off her dress with each stride.

As I watched her go, I could feel a pair of eyes on me. Darting my attention back to the match, Art was already looking my way.

Shooting him a sad expression, I put my sunglasses back on, huffed, and sat back in my seat.

All he did was shake his head and rub the sweat off his face while Patrick smirked proudly.

He sure seems to love this.

Sighing, I raised one hand to my mouth to bite my nails, the nerves of the match taking over my entire being.

At the next serve, I carefully watched the strategic movements behind the boy’s every motion. They have always been outstanding players, and I furrowed my brows as I thought back to the first time I saw them play against each other.

The stupidity of Tashi and I, dumb enough to pin two best friends against each other. We should have never stepped foot in that godforsaken hotel room.

Shaking my head, I closed my eyes. The crowd's roar echoed around me as I thought back to the night that started it all.

The night that ruined it all.

THE BOY’S HOTEL- 2006, 12:00 AM

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!” I exclaimed to Tashi as we made our way to the boy's hotel room. “Why the fuck would you let them come down when you knew I was there?” I shot at her as I smacked her arm.

Tashi smacked me right back, making me let out a hiss and shoot a cold glare at her.

“I don’t know why you're acting like you don’t have a game. You’re the best at playing hard to get.” Tashi responded and shrugged as if it was as simple as adding two plus two.

“You’re a bitch.” I muttered and rolled my eyes as the hotel came into view. “What do you even plan on doing with these two.” I raised my brow at her and studied her expression to gauge what was going through her mind.

“What we usually do,” she responded, smiling at me. Hypnotize them with our charm and have a good time, of course,” She said proudly as if this was second nature for us.

I won’t say that Tash and I haven’t had our fair share of fun with boys, but something like this, with two boys who knew their way around the game themselves, was certainly daunting.

“Fine, but you should have heard how they talked about us at your match. It was disgusting.” I pretended to gag and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Perfect, we already have them locked in then.” She nudged my arm before leading the way to the room.

Rolling my eyes, I smacked her again before following behind her.

On the way to the room, I got lost in my thoughts. How did we get ourselves into such a situation? I hope Tashi doesn’t expect us to have a foursome of any sort because I don’t have the patience to deal with a whole ordeal like that.

Approaching the door, Tashi stopped to let me walk ahead of her.

“Perfect, Mila, you can see your ass poking out of your shorts.” She smirked and gently patted it until I swatted at her hand with a laugh.

“Fuck off, let’s go,” I scolded, waiting for her to catch up, as she knew which room to go to.

Once we reached the door, Tashi knocked and softly bit her lip. Scuffling was immediately heard behind the door, signifying that the boys were startled by our appearance.

I moved to press my ear to the door with a slight smirk which Tashi returned as she did the same.

“They’re crazy…” I whispered to Tashi, to which she responded with a nod and a soft hum.

When we removed our ears from the door, it swung open so quickly I couldn’t make out the motion.

The boys stood at the door, looking extremely disheveled. Patrick wore boxers and an unbuttoned linen shirt that looked like it had been shoved in his tennis bag and forgotten. Also wearing boxers, Art wore a beater t-shirt that looked like it had never been in the wash and dryer a day in his life. Both of their hair was ruffled and unkempt, making it look like they had just gotten out of bed.

Raising an eyebrow, I was the first to speak. “What, did you two just get done fucking?” I questioned as I looked between them and placed my hands on my hips.

Patrick just burst out into laughter while Art spoke up.

“No…fuck no…” He muttered with a laugh as he patted Patrick on the back.

Drunk as sailors.

I nodded at this before resting my eyes and glancing at Tashi, who smiled fondly at the two, but I knew she was plotting.

“So, hi,” Tashi spoke calmly with a smile that immediately brought the boys back to Earth as they moved aside to let us in the room.

I had to stop myself from covering my nose as we entered the room.

Reeks of beer and cigarettes…typical boys.

Two beds pushed together were messily made. Beer cans, cigarette buds, and clothes were everywhere, though it looked like someone had tried to tidy up a bit.

That explains all the noise.

Patrick mindlessly spoke to Tashi as I continued to scan the room, not noticing that Art was eyeing me up. Turning my head, I caught his stare, which didn’t make him falter. He only continued to stare before coming up to me and handing me a beer.

“Didn’t know you were gonna come.” He spoke as he looked down at me through lidded eyes. Tipsy eyes. And, of course, he had a smirk, but it spoke I’m glad you came, really.

I continued to study his expression as I let my guard down a pinch. I shrugged nonchalantly as I took a long swig of the beer, knowing I would need it to get through the night.

“Had nothing else to do. Figured why not.” I spoke calmly as I let my eyes rake over his entire figure, drinking up his messy look which he really really pulled off. Never would I ever admit that for him to hear.

Or me.

“Well, glad you’re here.” Art said as he took the beer can from my lips and sipped it while he stared into my eyes, flickering to my lips for a moment.

I kept my eyes trained on his as I refused to back down in this staredown, showing that I couldn’t be swayed that quickly just because he was extremely attractive.

“You two, come sit,” Patrick spoke up from the ground by the bed where he sat with Tashi.

Nodding at this, I waited for Art to take his eyes off mine before I made any movement to sit. After a few seconds, he nodded and placed a hand on my lower back to walk me to where everyone was sitting.

I shivered slightly at this as I softly bit my bottom lip, hiding this motion from him, but I knew Tashi saw it by her smug little smile that said I told you so.

We haven’t even done anything, and I suddenly feel like I’m in the trenches.

The next couple minutes were used to discuss how Patrick and Art met each other and how Patrick, predictable enough, taught Art how to masturbate, all while we all took sips from the beer can that Art had given me when we first got here.

“Y’all are weird as fuck.” I snorted, a bit tipsy, wiping my mouth from my last gulp as I looked between the two boys who had red cheeks from a mix of alcohol and embarrassment, and can’t forget, two big smirks.

“No, Mila. I think it's a cute story.” Tashi nodded with a smile in an attempt to reassure the boys jokingly—a tactic she used to fully reel them in.

I rolled my eyes at this and fake glared at Tashi. “Only if you’re fucked in the head!” I laughed again while the rest of them laughed with me.

“Don’t tell me you two haven’t done anything weird like that,” Patrick said, making me whip my head to him before glancing back at Tashi.

“Yeah, you two have known each other since the womb. There’s no way you haven’t done nothing.” Art added and took a long swig of the beer can before passing it to Patrick, eyes trained on me for longer than I would have liked.

I shook my head with a small laugh before looking back to Tashi, who gave me an eyebrow in return, signaling something.

You ready?

…

I’m ready.

We nodded at each other before standing up and looking down at the boys.

“You guys aren’t leaving-“ Patrick started but stopped when he saw the two of us moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

My eyes locked with both of them briefly as I flashed the most innocent smile I could muster.

Here we go.

“Patrick, come sit by me…” Tashi spoke and patted the space to her left.

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He sprung up so fast he spilled the beer can everywhere on the carpet, but he couldn’t give a fuck.

As he sat down next to Tashi, my eyes locked onto Art’s. I did not need any words to tell him to sit by me.

He took the hint immediately, got up almost as fast as his best friend, and sat beside me, thigh already touching mine.

I turned to face him with lidded eyes and a small smile. I could hear his breath hitch as Adam’s apple bobbed, signifying that he took a small gulp. I softened my eyes to let him know it was okay to relax and that he could be comfortable around me.

Even though Tashi wanted to play with these boys like putty, I felt a little different about the situation.

As I tilted my head at Art slowly, I saw his face contort into a grin that radiated his comfort and need.

Leaning in slightly, I placed my hand on Art’s chest, noting how firm it felt through his thin shirt. Art mirrored my leaning in but instead placed a hand on my thigh. As I neared his lips, I teasingly pulled away as I felt Tashi pat my back. I smirked slightly at this and turned around as my lips met hers instead of Art’s.

It was an innocent kiss, a tactic to get these boys right where we wanted them. This action certainly answered their questions about us, and I hope it was worthwhile.

Once again, I could feel Art’s eyes piercing the back of my head, so I moved my hair off my shoulder and tapped the side of my neck so he would know what to do.

Almost immediately, his lips were latched onto my neck. I wondered for a moment if he was a vampire because of the way he was sucking on my neck. I figured he was searching for a blood vessel. Poor baby must have been deprived of any female touch, but the way his lips sucked profusely on my pulse point, I could tell this wasn’t his first rodeo.

Tashi and I pulled away from our innocent kiss and shot each other small smirks when we noticed that Patrick and Art were too lost in our necks to give a damn.

I tapped Art’s thigh so he would know to stop, which he reluctantly did. His lips were a bit swollen, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off them. Biting my lip, I reached up and brushed a finger across his bottom lip. As I did this, Art grabbed my hand and studied it before gently kissing my finger where my nail had broken. My eyes widened at this as my heart threatened to beat out of my chest.

Keep. your. composure.

Shaking out of my daze at his action, I smiled softly once again and leaned in slowly to connect our lips, hands on the back of his neck, threatening to tangle in his blonde curls.

Pillows. His lips feel like pillows.

The kiss was soft until his hand moved from my thigh to my waist. He pushed forward a bit until my back fully hit Tashi and tried to part my lips by biting my bottom one, but I pulled away before he could get that far.

Too easy.

Licking my lips to taste him, I turned back to Tashi, who placed her hand on my cheek to kiss me lightly again. As her lips melded with mine, I gingerly placed a hand on the base of Art’s jaw and slowly pulled him towards Tashi and me’s kiss. Immediately, I could feel Art’s lips meld with Tashi's, mine, and then Patrick’s, knowing that Tashi had done the same with him.

Now, the four of us were all kissing, making me slightly clench my thighs. Only slightly.

After about five seconds, I felt Tashi tap my back to signal me to pull away slowly.

As we both pulled away, Art and Patrick were full-on making out, not noticing that the two of us had abandoned the kiss. I glanced at Tashi with a smirk as she watched them in satisfaction.

It took everything in me not to giggle as I watched the two continue to eat each other's faces fervently.

Specifically Art.

After a beat, Tashi spoke up.

“Okay.” She said, which made the boys freeze and pull away from each other.

Immediately, they both looked at us in shock.

Got ‘em.

I tilted my head at Art as I gently reached my hand out to trace shapes on his thigh while he looked down at me like I had three heads.

“That was cute…” I mouthed to him with a soft smile as he continued to eye me up in shock mixed with a bit of awe.

“Well, we should get going before our parents freak out and wonder where we are,” Tashi says. I sit up as I follow suit, cutting any tension in the room.

Standing up from the bed, I chuckled to myself as I brushed off my clothes and fixed my hair. “It’s been fun,” I said, aiming my comment at Art. Thank you for having us,” I finished with a small, innocent smile as Tashi and I left.

“Wait!” Patrick said which stopped us in our tracks.

Turning around, Tashi and I shared matching grins that we quickly hid when we faced the boys.

Art spoke up next as he looked right at me. “What about your numbers?” He asked as he stared at me like a puppy deprived of dinner.

I crossed my arms and shrugged. “If you win tomorrow, I’ll give you my number,” I said plainly, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“And I’ll give you my number if you win tomorrow,” Tashi said to Patrick just as plainly as I did.

Both boys shot each other smirks before nodding in agreement.

Tashi and I said our goodbyes before leaving the hotel room. When we were out of earshot, we both started laughing.

“We have them wrapped around our pretty little fingers!” Tashi exclaimed as she wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

I laughed at this and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I really hope Art wins,” I said in a dreamy tone of voice as I thought back to his face, lips, chest, everything, really.

Tashi shook me back and forth with a smile as she exclaimed, “I’m just ready to watch some good fucking tennis!” She laughed, knowing that the two boys were really going to battle it out with this new prize put into motion.

STANFORD UNIVERSITY - 2007 5:00 PM

As I slowly trudged from the tennis court to the dining hall, I felt my arms giving out.

“Fuck this damn bag,” I whined and went to a nearby bench to take a breather and bask in the California sun.

Today’s practice was by far the worst of the semester. I worked with my coach on my serve to prepare for my upcoming match, where I would face an opponent ranked decently high in the state.

Closing my eyes and throwing my head back to catch the rays of the warm sun, I let out a groan. I probably looked like a corpse to every passerby, but just like Tashi, they knew me, so hopefully, they would just smile and wave.

“Rough practice?” An extremely familiar and captivating voice snapped me back to reality.

Opening my eyes, I was met with my favorite pair of light blue eyes—something he would never know. Of course, a smirk adorned his features, and his blonde curls were tucked into a backward red cap, most certainly saying “Stanford” on the flip side.

“Art…” I spoke almost breathlessly as I sat up, brushed a piece of hair out of my face, and used my other hand to block the sun that Art’s head almost blocked.

“Hey, can I sit?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets, and nodded to where my bag was on the bench.

Quickly moving it to sit in front of my feet, I patted the empty seat next to me. “Sure.” I smiled at him and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

Over the summer, I would never allow myself to be so forward with Art Donaldson. I couldn’t speak for my present self, though. Since Patrick won the match, he and Tashi started dating after he scored her number. I, of course, was too upset to act like I didn’t give a damn about not being able to give Art my number. Tashi insisted that to keep their passion and drive for tennis alive, I keep up my end of the deal and don’t give Art my number. Hesitantly, I agreed as I knew how easily a stimulus like that can create great results. Since the match, Art and I have never spoken except for the occasional hello when passing by each other on the tennis court or dining hall. This moment was the first time I could speak with him since everything, and since I may have developed a slight…crush.

“So,” He started and turned his body on the bench to face me fully. “How have you been?” He tilted his head and tapped the back of the bench while studying my face.

Inhaling a sharp breath, I turned my body to face him fully, bringing one leg up and letting the other drape off the side of the bench.

“Do you want an honest answer?” I chuckled softly as I moved my hands to remove my hair from its braids.

In turn, Art laughed gently while smirking at me. His stare narrowed as he studied my face, acting like I was an old friend he had known for years.

“Well, if the honest answer is terrible and cruel, then I’m not so sure.” He responded and immediately matched my energy.

Damn you, Donaldson.

“Hey.” I softly laughed as I moved my dangling leg to kick his gently while I finished taking my hair out.

I wondered for a beat how I wanted to summarize months of memories, feelings, and experiences into one sentence, and this made me sigh.

“It’s been rough. Majoring in biology and the grueling tennis schedule makes me wanna rip my hair out.” I spoke in a low tone as I ironically and subconsciously began to play with a strand of my hair.

“I feel smothered.” I finished and silently cursed myself for acting so vulnerable.

That was three sentences, Milan. Not one.

As I stared at Art almost helplessly, his eyes softened.

“I feel the same way, trust me.” He chuckled softly before removing his hat and running a hand through his hair. “It really sucks, but it’s gonna be worth it,” He ended his thought before putting his hat back on.

“Fuck, and I thought I was the only one. Quite naive of me.” I laughed before looking back up at the sun. “It’s whatever, though. You’re right, and everything will come into place and be worth it.” I continued as I looked anywhere but at Art’s piercing stare.

Silence. He didn’t respond. He didn’t laugh. He did nothing except stare. Stare in a heavy silence that brought me back to the night in that damn hotel room.

After a few beats, I returned to my senses, slowly stood up from the bench, and brushed my skirt off.

“Well, I didn’t mean to stay here for long, so I’m gonna head off.” I went to pick up my bag as I spoke disappointedly.

I couldn’t allow myself to fall into the trenches. I needed to focus on my studies and tennis. Hard work makes everything worthwhile, and a boy isn’t part of that everything right now.

“Wait, Milan,” Art spoke up and grabbed my wrist, his grip as firm as it would be if he held his racket.

This made me freeze in my tracks. What the hell did he think he was doing?

My eyes slowly met Art’s as I parted my lips to speak, but nothing came out, so he spoke for me.

“It’s been months, Milan,” he started, his grip on my wrist still firm, his eyes scanning my face for any hints of discomfort.

“I know we only really talked with each other that one night and had no time to get to know each other, but I would like to get to know you better.” He didn’t falter. Not once. I don’t even think he blinked.

My lips had gone dry, and my voice, for some reason, grew hoarse.

“Art…” I slowly began as I looked down at his hand, gripping my wrists. “The four of us had a deal…” I made sure to tread lightly with a severe tone.

Two feet and ten toes on the ground. Don’t falter. Don’t give in.

“They’re a happy fucking couple, Milan. I doubt they give two shits.” He stated matter-of-factly as I felt his thumb rub up and down on my wrist.

How naive.

Biting my lip in thought, I began an internal battle with myself. I wanted this so bad. And I could tell Art wanted it just as bad as I did—possibly more.

I deserve a win other than tennis.

Sighing, I removed my arm from his grasp and moved to my tennis bag to look for a piece of paper. Instead, I found a piece of muscle tape and a small pencil. Quickly scribbling down my number, I could feel Art trying to see what I was doing.

“Here,” I said with slightly red cheeks as I stood back up and handed him the piece of muscle tape. “Don’t go blowing up my phone now,” I playfully scolded before picking up my bag and walking past him, glancing at the triumphant smile playing on his perfect features.

Perfect? …yeah.

Before I began my trek to the dining hall, I touched Art’s shoulder and whispered in his ear.

“I didn’t want to admit it, but I really wanna get to know you more, too.”

NEXT DAY, STANFORD DORMS 11:00 AM

MEET ME IN THE DINING HALL FOR LUNCH?

My eyes stared at the text in utter disbelief. Art certainly didn’t take any time once he got what he’d been craving all summer.

“Why do you look so shocked?” Tashi laughed from the foot of my bed as she hit my leg.

Fuck.

My eyes looked to her as I shut my phone, put it next to me, and picked my computer back up to pretend to look at my study guide for an upcoming biology quiz.

“My mom sent me a weird text,” I laughed awkwardly before covering my face with my computer.

“Are you fucking with me?” Tashi laughed as I heard her moving up towards my side of the bed.

She shut my computer to look at my face, which was for sure red as a tomato.

“You’re lying,” she smirked before sitting on her knees and clapping her hands. What is it? A boy? A girl?” She persisted as she grabbed my leg and widely smiled at me.

I rolled my eyes at this before clicking my tongue. “Why are you so dead set on the fact that I was texting someone romantically?” I crossed my arms and bit the inside of my cheek, probably a dead giveaway.

Tashi’s face fell as her brows furrowed, and she crossed her arms, mimicking me.

“You’re joking, right?” She started before studying my stern expression. “We’ve known each other for what, eighteen fucking years?” She used this as a tactic to crack me. “I know your every expression and what it means. I could write a thesaurus on you if I wanted to.” She stated as she sucked on her teeth, brows still furrowed.

I stared at her sternly for a few beats before sighing and turning my head to look anywhere but at her.

“Fine, you got me…” I trailed before uncrossing my arms to fumble with my fingers. “but this is the first time I’ve received a text, so it’s not important.” I put my hands up and looked at her as an explanation as to why she shouldn’t ask questions.

I should know better.

Tashi’s annoyed face instantly turned into a happy one as she bounced on the bed and continuously hit my leg.

“Who is the lucky guy? or girl…” She tilted her head with a goofy smile, which she would only show me.

“It’s a boy…” I sighed before turning my head to look at my closest, as it suddenly looked very interesting.

No matter how long I had known Tashi, I couldn’t gauge how she would react to this. She’s a very pushy person who likes everything to go her way, but I’m hoping that since it’s me, she will react differently.

She shrieked and shook my legs back and forth with a giggle.

She’ll be so disappointed.

“Who is it? Is it that cute boy I caught you practicing with the other week? Or that one boy that you sometimes study with from your Chemistry class? Or maybe it's that random guy from the baseball team I saw you talking within the dining hall last week?” She fired off in a millisecond as I stared at her in utter disbelief.

“Okay, first of all, how did you know about all of those? And second of all, the first guy is gay, the second guy has a girlfriend, and the last one was giving my pencil back to me after using it for a quiz we took in statistics.” I responded as I rolled my eyes so hard I thought the whites of them would turn permanent.

“I’m your best friend. I know everything.” She spoke eerily with wide eyes before breaking into a smirk. “So, come on! Tell me who it is!” She bounced repeatedly on the bed and shook me back and forth until I finally had enough.

“Fine!” I exclaimed and threw my hands up in the air.

Fuck it.

“It was Art, alright.” I threw my hands up as I bit the bullet and came clean.

Tashi’s face dropped almost instantly as his name fell off my lips. She wasn’t happy. Not at all.

“What the fuck do you mean?” She laughed in disbelief as she shook her head and moved her hands from my legs.

I immediately sat up more and moved towards her.

“I saw him after practice yesterday, and we got to talk,” I explained as I bit the inside of my cheek in anticipation. “He asked for my number, and I figured since everything happened months ago, there would be no issue…” I trailed off and looked her straight in the eyes with a pleading expression.

Tashi just stared at me and shook her head slowly.

“We had a deal with them…” She stared at me with an accusatory face.

“Tash, I know,” I exclaimed and grabbed her hands. “But you knew I liked him more than what happened in that hotel room. Plus, you and Patrick are happy, so why should it matter?” I asked and shook my head as I gripped her hands.

She stared at me as if I kicked her puppy and gasped in her throat. “Um, to keep their passion alive? To ensure they both strive for better and strengthen their relationship with tennis?” She spoke as if it was plain as day.

Furrowing my brows, I slowly shook my head and parted my lips, shocked.

“Is tennis all you care about?”

I shouldn’t have said that.

My words echoed in my mind as I retracted my hands from Tashi’s and bit my lip, feeling defeated. Her stare pierced into my soul as she looked away from me and placed her hands on her thighs.

“If this is what you want, go ahead. I can’t and won’t stop you.” She spoke slowly before eyeing me.

Fuck, I messed up.

“But never think for a second that I care about tennis more than you.” She choked out as she looked at the picture of us in fifth grade sitting on my bedside table.

At this, my eyes widened, and I nodded slowly as a single tear slid down my cheek. Moving towards Tashi, I wrapped my arms around her waist and hugged her.

“Pinky promise?” I whispered into her neck while she returned the hug.

“Pinky promise.” She responded and grabbed my hand to interlock our pinkies.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 8 months

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My McLuhan lecture on enshittification

IT'S THE LAST DAY for the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

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Last night, I gave the annual Marshall McLuhan lecture at the Transmediale festival in Berlin. The event was sold out and while there's a video that'll be posted soon, they couldn't get a streaming setup installed in the Canadian embassy, where the talk was held:

https://transmediale.de/en/2024/event/mcluhan-2024

The talk went of fabulously, and was followed by commentary from Frederike Kaltheuner (Human Rights Watch) and a discussion moderated by Helen Starr. While you'll have to wait a bit for the video, I thought that I'd post my talk notes from last night for the impatient among you.

I want to thank the festival and the embassy staff for their hard work on an excellent event. And now, on to the talk!

Last year, I coined the term 'enshittification,' to describe the way that platforms decay. That obscene little word did big numbers, it really hit the zeitgeist. I mean, the American Dialect Society made it their Word of the Year for 2023 (which, I suppose, means that now I'm definitely getting a poop emoji on my tombstone).

So what's enshittification and why did it catch fire? It's my theory explaining how the internet was colonized by platforms, and why all those platforms are degrading so quickly and thoroughly, and why it matters – and what we can do about it.

We're all living through the enshittocene, a great enshittening, in which the services that matter to us, that we rely on, are turning into giant piles of shit.

It's frustrating. It's demoralizing. It's even terrifying.

I think that the enshittification framework goes a long way to explaining it, moving us out of the mysterious realm of the 'great forces of history,' and into the material world of specific decisions made by named people – decisions we can reverse and people whose addresses and pitchfork sizes we can learn.

Enshittification names the problem and proposes a solution. It's not just a way to say 'things are getting worse' (though of course, it's fine with me if you want to use it that way. It's an English word. We don't have der Rat für Englisch Rechtschreibung. English is a free for all. Go nuts, meine Kerle).

But in case you want to use enshittification in a more precise, technical way, let's examine how enshittification works.

It's a three stage process: First, platforms are good to their users; then they abuse their users to make things better for their business customers; finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die.

Let's do a case study. What could be better than Facebook?

Facebook is a company that was founded to nonconsensually rate the fuckability of Harvard undergrads, and it only got worse after that.

When Facebook started off, it was only open to US college and high-school kids with .edu and k-12.us addresses. But in 2006, it opened up to the general public. It told them: “Yes, I know you’re all using Myspace. But Myspace is owned by Rupert Murdoch, an evil, crapulent senescent Australian billionaire, who spies on you with every hour that God sends.

“Sign up with Facebook and we will never spy on you. Come and tell us who matters to you in this world, and we will compose a personal feed consisting solely of what those people post for consumption by those who choose to follow them.”

That was stage one. Facebook had a surplus — its investors’ cash — and it allocated that surplus to its end-users. Those end-users proceeded to lock themselves into FB. FB — like most tech businesses — has network effects on its side. A product or service enjoys network effects when it improves as more people sign up to use it. You joined FB because your friends were there, and then others signed up because you were there.

But FB didn’t just have high network effects, it had high switching costs. Switching costs are everything you have to give up when you leave a product or service. In Facebook’s case, it was all the friends there that you followed and who followed you. In theory, you could have all just left for somewhere else; in practice, you were hamstrung by the collective action problem.

It’s hard to get lots of people to do the same thing at the same time. You and your six friends here are going to struggle to agree on where to get drinks after tonight's lecture. How were you and your 200 Facebook friends ever gonna agree on when it was time to leave Facebook, and where to go?

So FB’s end-users engaged in a mutual hostage-taking that kept them glued to the platform. Then FB exploited that hostage situation, withdrawing the surplus from end-users and allocating it to two groups of business customers: advertisers, and publishers.

To the advertisers, FB said, 'Remember when we told those rubes we wouldn’t spy on them? We lied. We spy on them from asshole to appetite. We will sell you access to that surveillance data in the form of fine-grained ad-targeting, and we will devote substantial engineering resources to thwarting ad-fraud. Your ads are dirt cheap to serve, and we’ll spare no expense to make sure that when you pay for an ad, a real human sees it.'

To the publishers, FB said, 'Remember when we told those rubes we would only show them the things they asked to see? We lied!Upload short excerpts from your website, append a link, and we will nonconsensually cram it into the eyeballs of users who never asked to see it. We are offering you a free traffic funnel that will drive millions of users to your website to monetize as you please, and those users will become stuck to you when they subscribe to your feed.' And so advertisers and publishers became stuck to the platform, too, dependent on those users.

The users held each other hostage, and those hostages took the publishers and advertisers hostage, too, so that everyone was locked in.

Which meant it was time for the third stage of enshittification: withdrawing surplus from everyone and handing it to Facebook’s shareholders.

For the users, that meant dialing down the share of content from accounts you followed to a homeopathic dose, and filling the resulting void with ads and pay-to-boost content from publishers.

For advertisers, that meant jacking up prices and drawing down anti-fraud enforcement, so advertisers paid much more for ads that were far less likely to be seen by a person.

For publishers, this meant algorithmically suppressing the reach of their posts unless they included an ever-larger share of their articles in the excerpt, until anything less than fulltext was likely to be be disqualified from being sent to your subscribers, let alone included in algorithmic suggestion feeds.

And then FB started to punish publishers for including a link back to their own sites, so they were corralled into posting fulltext feeds with no links, meaning they became commodity suppliers to Facebook, entirely dependent on the company both for reach and for monetization, via the increasingly crooked advertising service.

When any of these groups squawked, FB just repeated the lesson that every tech executive learned in the Darth Vader MBA: 'I have altered the deal. Pray I don’t alter it any further.'

Facebook now enters the most dangerous phase of enshittification. It wants to withdraw all available surplus, and leave just enough residual value in the service to keep end users stuck to each other, and business customers stuck to end users, without leaving anything extra on the table, so that every extractable penny is drawn out and returned to its shareholders.

But that’s a very brittle equilibrium, because the difference between “I hate this service but I can’t bring myself to quit it,” and “Jesus Christ, why did I wait so long to quit? Get me the hell out of here!” is razor thin

All it takes is one Cambridge Analytica scandal, one whistleblower, one livestreamed mass-shooting, and users bolt for the exits, and then FB discovers that network effects are a double-edged sword.

If users can’t leave because everyone else is staying, when when everyone starts to leave, there’s no reason not to go, too.

That’s terminal enshittification, the phase when a platform becomes a pile of shit. This phase is usually accompanied by panic, which tech bros euphemistically call 'pivoting.'

Which is how we get pivots like, 'In the future, all internet users will be transformed into legless, sexless, low-polygon, heavily surveilled cartoon characters in a virtual world called "metaverse," that we ripped off from a 25-year-old satirical cyberpunk novel.'

That's the procession of enshittification. If enshittification were a disease, we'd call that enshittification's "natural history." But that doesn't tell you how the enshittification works, nor why everything is enshittifying right now, and without those details, we can't know what to do about it.

What led to the enshittocene? What is it about this moment that led to the Great Enshittening? Was it the end of the Zero Interest Rate Policy? Was it a change in leadership at the tech giants? Is Mercury in retrograde?

None of the above.

The period of free fed money certainly led to tech companies having a lot of surplus to toss around. But Facebook started enshittifying long before ZIRP ended, so did Amazon, Microsoft and Google.

Some of the tech giants got new leaders. But Google's enshittification got worse when the founders came back to oversee the company's AI panic (excuse me, 'AI pivot').

And it can't be Mercury in retrograde, because I'm a cancer, and as everyone knows, cancers don't believe in astrology.

When a whole bunch of independent entities all change in the same way at once, that's a sign that the environment has changed, and that's what happened to tech.

Tech companies, like all companies, have conflicting imperatives. On the one hand, they want to make money. On the other hand, making money involves hiring and motivating competent staff, and making products that customers want to buy. The more value a company permits its employees and customers to carve off, the less value it can give to its shareholders.

The equilibrium in which companies produce things we like in honorable ways at a fair price is one in which charging more, worsening quality, and harming workers costs more than the company would make by playing dirty.

There are four forces that discipline companies, serving as constraints on their enshittificatory impulses.

First: competition. Companies that fear you will take your business elsewhere are cautious about worsening quality or raising prices.

Second: regulation. Companies that fear a regulator will fine them more than they expect to make from cheating, will cheat less.

These two forces affect all industries, but the next two are far more tech-specific.

Third: self-help. Computers are extremely flexible, and so are the digital products and services we make from them. The only computer we know how to make is the Turing-complete Von Neumann machine, a computer that can run every valid program.

That means that users can always avail themselves of programs that undo the anti-features that shift value from them to a company's shareholders. Think of a board-room table where someone says, 'I've calculated that making our ads 20% more invasive will net us 2% more revenue per user.'

In a digital world, someone else might well say 'Yes, but if we do that, 20% of our users will install ad-blockers, and our revenue from those users will drop to zero, forever.'

This means that digital companies are constrained by the fear that some enshittificatory maneuver will prompt their users to google, 'How do I disenshittify this?'

Fourth and finally: workers. Tech workers have very low union density, but that doesn't mean that tech workers don't have labor power. The historical "talent shortage" of the tech sector meant that workers enjoyed a lot of leverage over their bosses. Workers who disagreed with their bosses could quit and walk across the street and get another job – a better job.

They knew it, and their bosses knew it. Ironically, this made tech workers highly exploitable. Tech workers overwhelmingly saw themselves as founders in waiting, entrepreneurs who were temporarily drawing a salary, heroic figures of the tech mission.

That's why mottoes like Google's 'don't be evil' and Facebook's 'make the world more open and connected' mattered: they instilled a sense of mission in workers. It's what Fobazi Ettarh calls 'vocational awe, 'or Elon Musk calls being 'extremely hardcore.'

Tech workers had lots of bargaining power, but they didn't flex it when their bosses demanded that they sacrifice their health, their families, their sleep to meet arbitrary deadlines.

So long as their bosses transformed their workplaces into whimsical 'campuses,' with gyms, gourmet cafeterias, laundry service, massages and egg-freezing, workers could tell themselves that they were being pampered – rather than being made to work like government mules.

But for bosses, there's a downside to motivating your workers with appeals to a sense of mission, namely: your workers will feel a sense of mission. So when you ask them to enshittify the products they ruined their health to ship, workers will experience a sense of profound moral injury, respond with outrage, and threaten to quit.

Thus tech workers themselves were the final bulwark against enshittification,

The pre-enshittification era wasn't a time of better leadership. The executives weren't better. They were constrained. Their worst impulses were checked by competition, regulation, self-help and worker power.

So what happened?

One by one, each of these constraints was eroded until it dissolved, leaving the enshittificatory impulse unchecked, ushering in the enshittoscene.

It started with competition. From the Gilded Age until the Reagan years, the purpose of competition law was to promote competition. US antitrust law treated corporate power as dangerous and sought to blunt it. European antitrust laws were modeled on US ones, imported by the architects of the Marshall Plan.

But starting in the neoliberal era, competition authorities all over the world adopted a doctrine called 'consumer welfare,' which held that monopolies were evidence of quality. If everyone was shopping at the same store and buying the same product, that meant it was the best store, selling the best product – not that anyone was cheating.

And so all over the world, governments stopped enforcing their competition laws. They just ignored them as companies flouted them. Those companies merged with their major competitors, absorbed small companies before they could grow to be big threats. They held an orgy of consolidation that produced the most inbred industries imaginable, whole sectors grown so incestuous they developed Habsburg jaws, from eyeglasses to sea freight, glass bottles to payment processing, vitamin C to beer.

Most of our global economy is dominated by five or fewer global companies. If smaller companies refuse to sell themselves to these cartels, the giants have free rein to flout competition law further, with 'predatory pricing' that keeps an independent rival from gaining a foothold.

When Diapers.com refused Amazon's acquisition offer, Amazon lit $100m on fire, selling diapers way below cost for months, until diapers.com went bust, and Amazon bought them for pennies on the dollar, and shut them down.

Competition is a distant memory. As Tom Eastman says, the web has devolved into 'five giant websites filled with screenshots of text from the other four,' so these giant companies no longer fear losing our business.

Lily Tomlin used to do a character on the TV show Laugh In, an AT&T telephone operator who'd do commercials for the Bell system. Each one would end with her saying 'We don't care. We don't have to. We're the phone company.'

Today's giants are not constrained by competition.

They don't care. They don't have to. They're Google.

That's the first constraint gone, and as it slipped away, the second constraint – regulation – was also doomed.

When an industry consists of hundreds of small- and medium-sized enterprises, it is a mob, a rabble. Hundreds of companies can't agree on what to tell Parliament or Congress or the Commission. They can't even agree on how to cater a meeting where they'd discuss the matter.

But when a sector dwindles to a bare handful of dominant firms, it ceases to be a rabble and it becomes a cartel.

Five companies, or four, or three, or two, or just one company finds it easy to converge on a single message for their regulators, and without "wasteful competition" eroding their profits, they have plenty of cash to spread around.

Like Facebook, handing former UK deputy PM Nick Clegg millions every year to sleaze around Europe, telling his former colleagues that Facebook is the only thing standing between 'European Cyberspace' and the Chinese Communist Party.

Tech's regulatory capture allows it to flout the rules that constrain less concentrated sectors. They can pretend that violating labor, consumer and privacy laws is fine, because they violate them with an app.

This is why competition matters: it's not just because competition makes companies work harder and share value with customers and workers, it's because competition keeps companies from becoming too big to fail, and too big to jail.

Now, there's plenty of things we don't want improved through competition, like privacy invasions. After the EU passed its landmark privacy law, the GDPR, there was a mass-extinction event for small EU ad-tech companies. These companies disappeared en masse, and that's fine.

They were even more invasive and reckless than US-based Big Tech companies. After all, they had less to lose. We don't want competition in commercial surveillance. We don't want to produce increasing efficiency in violating our human rights.

But: Google and Facebook – who pretend they are called Alphabet and Meta – have been unscathed by European privacy law. That's not because they don't violate the GDPR (they do!). It's because they pretend they are headquartered in Ireland, one of the EU's most notorious corporate crime-havens.

And Ireland competes with the EU other crime havens – Malta, Luxembourg, Cyprus and sometimes the Netherlands – to see which country can offer the most hospitable environment for all sorts of crimes. Because the kind of company that can fly an Irish flag of convenience is mobile enough to change to a Maltese flag if the Irish start enforcing EU laws.

Which is how you get an Irish Data Protection Commission that processes fewer than 20 major cases per year, while Germany's data commissioner handles more than 500 major cases, even though Ireland is nominal home to the most privacy-invasive companies on the continent.

So Google and Facebook get to act as though they are immune to privacy law, because they violate the law with an app; just like Uber can violate labor law and claim it doesn't count because they do it with an app.

Uber's labor-pricing algorithm offers different drivers different payments for the same job, something Veena Dubal calls 'algorithmic wage discrimination.' If you're more selective about which jobs you'll take, Uber will pay you more for every ride.

But if you take those higher payouts and ditch whatever side-hustle let you cover your bills which being picky about your Uber drives, Uber will incrementally reduce the payment, toggling up and down as you grow more or less selective, playing you like a fish on a line until you eventually – inevitably – lose to the tireless pricing robot, and end up stuck with low wages and all your side-hustles gone.

Then there's Amazon, which violates consumer protection laws, but says it doesn't matter, because they do it with an app. Amazon makes $38b/year from its 'advertising' system. 'Advertising' in quotes because they're not selling ads, they're selling placements in search results.

The companies that spend the most on 'ads' go to the top, even if they're offering worse products at higher prices. If you click the first link in an Amazon search result, on average you will pay a 29% premium over the best price on the service. Click one of the first four items and you'll pay a 25% premium. On average you have to go seventeen items down to find the best deal on Amazon.

Any merchant that did this to you in a physical storefront would be fined into oblivion. But Amazon has captured its regulators, so it can violate your rights, and say, "it doesn't count, we did it with an app"

This is where that third constraint, self-help, would sure come in handy. If you don't want your privacy violated, you don't need to wait for the Irish privacy regulator to act, you can just install an ad-blocker.

More than half of all web users are blocking ads. But the web is an open platform, developed in the age when tech was hundreds of companies at each others' throats, unable to capture their regulators.

Today, the web is being devoured by apps, and apps are ripe for enshittification. Regulatory capture isn't just the ability to flout regulation, it's also the ability to co-opt regulation, to wield regulation against your adversaries.

Today's tech giants got big by exploiting self-help measures. When Facebook was telling Myspace users they needed to escape Rupert Murdoch’s evil crapulent Australian social media panopticon, it didn’t just say to those Myspacers, 'Screw your friends, come to Facebook and just hang out looking at the cool privacy policy until they get here'

It gave them a bot. You fed the bot your Myspace username and password, and it would login to Myspace and pretend to be you, and scrape everything waiting in your inbox, copying it to your FB inbox, and you could reply to it and it would autopilot your replies back to Myspace.

When Microsoft was choking off Apple's market oxygen by refusing to ship a functional version of Microsoft Office for the Mac – so that offices were throwing away their designers' Macs and giving them PCs with upgraded graphics cards and Windows versions of Photoshop and Illustrator – Steve Jobs didn't beg Bill Gates to update Mac Office.

He got his technologists to reverse-engineer Microsoft Office, and make a compatible suite, the iWork Suite, whose apps, Pages, Numbers and Keynote could perfectly read and write Microsoft's Word, Excel and Powerpoint files.

When Google entered the market, it sent its crawler to every web server on Earth, where it presented itself as a web-user: 'Hi! Hello! Do you have any web pages? Thanks! How about some more? How about more?'

But every pirate wants to be an admiral. When Facebook, Apple and Google were doing this adversarial interoperability, that was progress. If you try to do it to them, that's piracy.

Try to make an alternative client for Facebook and they'll say you violated US laws like the Digital Millennium Copyright Act and EU laws like Article 6 of the EUCD.

Try to make an Android program that can run iPhone apps and play back the data from Apple's media stores and they'd bomb you until the rubble bounced.

Try to scrape all of Google and they'll nuke you until you glowed.

Tech's regulatory capture is mind-boggling. Take that law I mentioned earlier, Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act or DMCA. Bill Clinton signed it in 1998, and the EU imported it as Article 6 of the EUCD in 2001

It is a blanket prohibition on removing any kind of encryption that restricts access to a copyrighted work – things like ripping DVDs or jailbreaking a phone – with penalties of a five-year prison sentence and a $500k fine for a first offense.

This law has been so broadened that it can be used to imprison creators for granting access to their own creations

Here's how that works: In 2008, Amazon bought Audible, an audiobook platform, in an anticompetitive acquisition. Today, Audible is a monopolist with more than 90% of the audiobook market. Audible requires that all creators on their platform sell with Amazon's "digital rights management," which locks it to Amazon's apps.

So say I write a book, then I read it into a mic, then I pay a director and an engineer thousands of dollars to turn that into an audiobook, and sell it to you on the monopoly platform, Audible, that controls more than 90% of the market.

If I later decide to leave Amazon and want to let you come with me to a rival platform, I am out of luck. If I supply you with a tool to remove Amazon's encryption from my audiobook, so you can play it in another app, I commit a felony, punishable by a 5-year sentence and a half-million-dollar fine, for a first offense.

That's a stiffer penalty than you would face if you simply pirated the audiobook from a torrent site. But it's also harsher than the punishment you'd get for shoplifting the audiobook on CD from a truck-stop. It's harsher than the sentence you'd get for hijacking the truck that delivered the CD.

So think of our ad-blockers again. 50% of web users are running ad-blockers. 0% of app users are running ad-blockers, because adding a blocker to an app requires that you first remove its encryption, and that's a felony (Jay Freeman calls this 'felony contempt of business-model').

So when someone in a board-room says, 'let's make our ads 20% more obnoxious and get a 2% revenue increase,' no one objects that this might prompt users to google, 'how do I block ads?' After all, the answer is, 'you can't.'

Indeed, it's more likely that someone in that board room will say, 'let's make our ads 100% more obnoxious and get a 10% revenue increase' (this is why every company wants you to install an app instead of using its website).

There's no reason that gig workers who are facing algorithmic wage discrimination couldn't install a counter-app that coordinated among all the Uber drivers to reject all jobs unless they reach a certain pay threshold.

No reason except felony contempt of business model, the threat that the toolsmiths who built that counter-app would go broke or land in prison, for violating DMCA 1201, the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, trademark, copyright, patent, contract, trade secrecy, nondisclosure and noncompete, or in other words: 'IP law.'

'IP' is just a euphemism for 'a law that lets me reach beyond the walls of my company and control the conduct of my critics, competitors and customers.' And 'app' is just a euphemism for 'a web-page wrapped enough IP to make it a felony to mod it to protect the labor, consumer and privacy rights of its user.'

We don't care. We don't have to. We're the phone company.

But what about that fourth constraint: workers?

For decades, tech workers' high degrees of bargaining power and vocational awe put a ceiling on enshittification. Even after the tech sector shrank to a handful of giants. Even after they captured their regulators so they could violate our consumer, privacy and labor rights. Even after they created 'felony contempt of business model' and extinguished self-help for tech users. Tech was still constrained by their workers' sense of moral injury in the face of the imperative to enshittify.

Remember when tech workers dreamed of working for a big company for a few years, before striking out on their own to start their own company that would knock that tech giant over?

Then that dream shrank to: work for a giant for a few years, quit, do a fake startup, get acqui-hired by your old employer, as a complicated way of getting a bonus and a promotion.

Then the dream shrank further: work for a tech giant for your whole life, get free kombucha and massages on Wednesdays.

And now, the dream is over. All that’s left is: work for a tech giant until they fire your ass, like those 12,000 Googlers who got fired last year six months after a stock buyback that would have paid their salaries for the next 27 years.

Workers are no longer a check on their bosses' worst impulses

Today, the response to 'I refuse to make this product worse' is, 'turn in your badge and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.'

I get that this is all a little depressing

OK, really depressing.

But hear me out! We've identified the disease. We've traced its natural history. We've identified its underlying mechanism. Now we can get to work on a cure.

There are four constraints that prevent enshittification: competition, regulation, self-help and labor.

To reverse enshittification and guard against its reemergence, we must restore and strengthen each of these.

On competition, it's actually looking pretty good. The EU, the UK, the US, Canada, Australia, Japan and China are all doing more on competition than they have in two generations. They're blocking mergers, unwinding existing ones, taking action on predatory pricing and other sleazy tactics.

Remember, in the US and Europe, we already have the laws to do this – we just stopped enforcing them in the Helmut Kohl era.

I've been fighting these fights with the Electronic Frontier Foundation for 22 years now, and I've never seen a more hopeful moment for sound, informed tech policy.

Now, the enshittifiers aren't taking this laying down. The business press can't stop talking about how stupid and old-fashioned all this stuff is. They call people like me 'hipster antitrust,' and they hate any regulator who actually does their job.

Take Lina Khan, the brilliant head of the US Federal Trade Commission, who has done more in three years on antitrust than the combined efforts of all her predecessors over the past 40 years. Rupert Murdoch's Wall Street Journal has run more than 80 editorials trashing Khan, insisting that she's an ineffectual ideologue who can't get anything done.

Sure, Rupert, that's why you ran 80 editorials about her.

Because she can't get anything done.

Even Canada is stepping up on competition. Canada! Land of the evil billionaire! From Ted Rogers, who owns the country's telecoms; to Galen Weston, who owns the country's grocery stores; to the Irvings, who basically own the entire province of New Brunswick.

Even Canada is doing something about this. Last autumn, Trudeau's government promised to update Canada's creaking competition law to finally ban 'abuse of dominance.'

I mean, wow. I guess when Galen Weston decided to engage in a criminal conspiracy to fix the price of bread – the most Les Miz-ass crime imaginable – it finally got someone's attention, eh?

Competition has a long way to go, but all over the world, competition law is seeing a massive revitalization. Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher put antitrust law in a coma in the 80s – but it's awake, it's back, and it's pissed.

What about regulation? How will we get tech companies to stop doing that one weird trick of adding 'with an app' to their crimes and escaping enforcement?

Well, here in the EU, they're starting to figure it out. This year, the Digital Markets Act and the Digital Services Act went into effect, and they let people who get screwed by tech companies go straight to the federal European courts, bypassing the toothless watchdogs in Europe's notorious corporate crime havens like Ireland.

In America, they might finally get a digital privacy law. You people have no idea how backwards US privacy law is. The last time the US Congress enacted a broadly applicable privacy law was in 1988.

The Video Privacy Protection Act makes it a crime for video-store clerks to leak your video-rental history. It was passed after a right-wing judge who was up for the Supreme Court had his rentals published in a DC newspaper. The rentals weren't even all that embarrassing!

Sure, that judge, Robert Bork, wasn't confirmed for the Supreme Court, but that was because he was a virulently racist loudmouth and a crook who served as Nixon's Solicitor General.

But Congress got the idea that their video records might be next, freaked out, and passed the VPPA.

That was the last time Americans got a big, national privacy law. Nineteen. Eighty. Eight.

It's been a minute.

And the thing is, there's a lot of people who are angry about stuff that has some nexus with America's piss-poor privacy landscape. Worried that Facebook turned Grampy into a Qanon? That Insta made your teen anorexic? That TikTok is brainwashing millennials into quoting Osama Bin Laden?

Or that cops are rolling up the identities of everyone at a Black Lives Matter protest or the Jan 6 riots by getting location data from Google?

Or that Red State Attorneys General are tracking teen girls to out-of-state abortion clinics?

Or that Black people are being discriminated against by online lending or hiring platforms?

Or that someone is making AI deepfake porn of you?

Having a federal privacy law with a private right of action – which means that individuals can sue companies that violate their privacy – would go a long way to rectifying all of these problems. There's a big coalition for that kind of privacy law.

What about self-help? That's a lot farther away, alas.

The EU's DMA will force tech companies to open up their walled gardens for interoperation. You'll be able to use Whatsapp to message people on iMessage, or quit Facebook and move to Mastodon, but still send messages to the people left behind.

But if you want to reverse-engineer one of those Big Tech products and mod it to work for you, not them, the EU's got nothing for you.

This is an area ripe for improvement, and I think the US might be the first ones to open this up.

It's certainly on-brand for the EU to be forcing tech companies to do things a certain way, while the US simply takes away tech companies' abilities to prevent others from changing how their stuff works.

My big hope here is that Stein's Law will take hold: 'Anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop'

Letting companies decide how their customers must use their products is simply too tempting an invitation to mischief. HP has a whole building full of engineers thinking of new ways to lock your printer to its official ink cartridges, forcing you to spend $10,000/gallon on ink to print your boarding passes and shopping lists.

It's offensive. The only people who don't agree are the people running the monopolies in all the other industries, like the med-tech monopolists who are locking their insulin pumps to their glucose monitors, turning people with diabetes into walking inkjet printers.

Finally, there's labor. Here in Europe, there's much higher union density than in the US, which American tech barons are learning the hard way. There is nothing more satisfying in the daily news than the latest salvo by Nordic unions against that Tesla guy (Musk is the most Edison-ass Tesla guy imaginable).

But even in the USA, there's a massive surge in tech unions. Tech workers are realizing that they aren't founders in waiting. The days of free massages and facial piercings and getting to wear black tee shirts that say things your boss doesn't understand are coming to an end.

In Seattle, Amazon's tech workers walked out in sympathy with Amazon's warehouse workers, because they're all workers.

The only reason the tech workers aren't monitored by AI that notifies their managers if they visit the toilet during working hours is their rapidly dwindling bargaining power. The way things are going, Amazon programmers are going to be pissing in bottles next to their workstations (for a guy who built a penis-shaped rocket, Jeff Bezos really hates our kidneys).

We're seeing bold, muscular, global action on competition, regulation and labor, with self-help bringing up the rear. It's not a moment too soon, because the bad news is, enshittification is coming to every industry.

If it's got a networked computer in it, the people who made it can run the Darth Vader MBA playbook on it, changing the rules from moment to moment, violating your rights and then saying 'It's OK, we did it with an app.'

From Mercedes renting you your accelerator pedal by the month to Internet of Things dishwashers that lock you into proprietary dishsoap, enshittification is metastasizing into every corner of our lives.

Software doesn't eat the world, it enshittifies it

But there's a bright side to all this: if everyone is threatened by enshittification, then everyone has a stake in disenshittification.

Just as with privacy law in the US, the potential anti-enshittification coalition is massive, it's unstoppable.

The cynics among you might be skeptical that this will make a difference. After all, isn't "enshittification" the same as "capitalism"?

Well, no.

Look, I'm not going to cape for capitalism here. I'm hardly a true believer in markets as the most efficient allocators of resources and arbiters of policy – if there was ever any doubt, capitalism's total failure to grapple with the climate emergency surely erases it.

But the capitalism of 20 years ago made space for a wild and wooly internet, a space where people with disfavored views could find each other, offer mutual aid, and organize.

The capitalism of today has produced a global, digital ghost mall, filled with botshit, crapgadgets from companies with consonant-heavy brand-names, and cryptocurrency scams.

The internet isn't more important than the climate emergency, nor gender justice, racial justice, genocide, or inequality.

But the internet is the terrain we'll fight those fights on. Without a free, fair and open internet, the fight is lost before it's joined.

We can reverse the enshittification of the internet. We can halt the creeping enshittification of every digital device.

We can build a better, enshittification-resistant digital nervous system, one that is fit to coordinate the mass movements we will need to fight fascism, end genocide, and save our planet and our species.

Martin Luther King said 'It may be true that the law cannot make a man love me, but it can stop him from lynching me, and I think that's pretty important.'

And it may be true that the law can't force corporate sociopaths to conceive of you as a human being entitled to dignity and fair treatment, and not just an ambulatory wallet, a supply of gut-bacteria for the immortal colony organism that is a limited liability corporation.

But it can make that exec fear you enough to treat you fairly and afford you dignity, even if he doesn't think you deserve it.

And I think that's pretty important.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel/a>

Back the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle here!

Image: Drahtlos (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Motherboard_Intel_386.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

cdessums (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Monsoon_Season_Flagstaff_AZ_clouds_storm.jpg

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #transmediale #lectures #enshittification #big tech #berlin #mcluhan lecture #Youtube

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laguezze · 3 months

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PAC: A letter you're meant to receive

I'm baaaaack~ (kinda) (pretty casually, life's been tough)

As always here are the rules:

Minors DNI

Don't take everything to heart, this is a general reading! Take what resonates!

It's honest, I don't sugarcoat. If you're not liking what you read, keep scrolling! It may not be for you or you may not be ready for that message yet!

Let's take a look at the piles!!!

Pile 1

Pile 2

Pile 3

Let's go!

Pile 1

Signs this may be for you: unicorn, South Korea , the letter S, Squirrels, Love, Skydiving, birthday, anniversary, 12, 6, 16, 2006, 2001, 2026, 1970s, Billie Eilish, John Lennon, glasses.

Dear ____,

How could you think I'm not proud of you? How could you think that minor thing you did would erase all the love I feel for you? It doesn't. I don't think anything can at this point. You're human, you're allowed to make mistakes. And while I do still think you need help, you're still doing your best, even though you don't feel like it. You're trying and I see that. You're wonderful and magical and although your light is dimmed at the moment, I know there's a bright sun under that blanket of darkness you're currently holding over your head. Everything will be ok. Have you ever not gotten a resolution to your conflict? Trust me. You're going to be fine. Let yourself be, enjoy the people around you, breathe. Treat your life like you treat your dreams. Be as excited as you can. You're alive! And while you are not responsible for this darkness that has been placed upon you, you are the only one that can take it off. I understand it's difficult, but you can do it. You're tired of fighting, but you're not just anyone. You're a legend. Legends don't have it easy. Go get them.

Pile 2

Signs this may be for you: Harry Styles, Fashion school, blood drives, nurse, 😜, smoke, laughter, blonde, blue eyes, "that boy is mine", 0%, Rihanna, water, rain, Hawaii, Jumping, Rave, Cindy, the letter C, N, and A. Numbers 5, 8, and 30, AMANDA.

Hello, it's been a while.

How are you?

This is awkward, you probably didn't expect to hear from me. I have been okay, I honestly can't stop thinking about us and how it ended. It pains me to think that you left with the impression that I didn't care. I do. I did. I just want to let you know that in another life, maybe we should try again. I don't have much to say, I'm not sure why I feel so compelled to tell you this. It's so basic. I'm being channeled right now (ok aware) and it's weird because it shouldn't be this deep but I really wanted to come through and say sorry. And say that I know you miss me and I do too. And one day we will reunite and we might be able to show our love then. Sorry it ended that way. Sorry that was the last you knew of me. I think of you each day, I dream of you each night.

Pile 3

Signs this may be for you: YES GIRL, happy, cheerful, spaghetti, squash, "I'm allergic", ibuprofen, love is in the air, matchmaker, fruits, VSCO, musically, Harmony, dating apps, Jenna, Lisa, "I stan", Twitter account, laughs, pigs, 25, 23, 2022, 2001, 2000, Beyonce.

Wow, am I impressed with you,

Not only are you grown and beautiful, you're also such a good person. I'm immensely proud of you. You're doing exactly what you need to, you're living life to the fullest and I am here for it. Remember our trips to the beach? I miss you. You should call more often. I love that you're meeting new people and having fun but sometimes I need to see you and hear from you. Please call me from time to time. I know I may seem clingy, but I just miss your presence. I also don't know when I'll actually see you next, you've become so unexpected and exciting. I love you, that's why I need to hear from you. Tell me everything, I'll listen. I'm here for you and I want what's best. Come back from time to time. Please. That's the only thing I ask of you at this time. I can't say this to you normally, you'd get uncomfortable. But please listen and take this opportunity. Let's talk more often! I wanna be part of your life again! 🥰

Hope it resonates! 💕

#tarot readings #tarot #free readings #tarot blog #pac tarot #tarot pac #pac #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a photo #pick a pile

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eggplantgifs · 6 months

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Deanna Stellato-Dudek: 2000 Junior World Silver Medalist → 2024 World Champion

At the age of 40, Deanna Stellato-Dudek is the oldest woman to win a World Championships title in figure skating, with her pairs partner Maxime Deschamps for Canada. Deanna Stellato was the 1999 Junior Grand Prix Final Champion and 2000 Junior World Silver Medalist in the women's singles discipline. She retired from competitive skating in 2001, and returned as a pairs skater in 2016.

40 years is the new 20. That's what I'd like to say. [This record is] not something that I ever set out to do when I came back to skating, but I knew that if I were to accomplish my dreams, it would inevitably occur, because I'm the oldest everywhere. But it's something I carry with pride, and I'm very proud of it. I hope a lot of athletes stay around a lot longer. I hope it encourages people to not stop before they reach their potential. And I hope it transcends into other areas, not just in sports, but also in other areas of life [...] [My 15-year-old self] would say, why did we stop? We're still skating, you know, 25 years later? I think my younger self would think I'm crazy, so she wouldn't think much of it at all. And she wanted to win the 2006 Olympics [...]

-- 2024 World Championships Free Skate Press Conference

#deanna stellato dudek #maxime deschamps #fskateedit #figure skating #worlds 2024 #jwc 2000 #program #kiss and cry #medal ceremony #mix #request #she's an absolute legend #great request anon!

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glossglamour · 6 months

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Full Robert Sean Leonard 'House'-a-palooza Interview: "As we know, I’m straight, but yeah, it’s like, homina homina homina."

May 01 2006 | By Maureen Ryan

Do you watch the show much?

"I can't watch it. I mean, Hugh doesn't watch it because he's anal and … eight years old. [laughs] And by the way, I don’t buy it, I think he does watch it.

“I watched in the first year. We live in New York and [my fiancé] was in California] and she likes it because I’m on it. But then she left, she had to come back to New York, and what are you going to do? The idea of me watching myself on TV, alone in Santa Monica, was just about... just short of, like, a bottle of Maker’s Mark and a shotgun away from shooting myself. [much laughter] So I haven’t watched it all season. But when I have watched it, I’ve been mildly confused and Hugh is appropriately grumpy."

I have this theory that a lot of my favorite shows aren’t even about what they’re supposed to be about -- they have to be set in a hospital or police station or outer space or whatever because the network can market that, but they’re secretly not even about that. Like, “House” is really about ethics and morality.

“Yeah, sure, I think that’s true.”

But you can’t pitch that show to the network. “Hey, we have this great show that examines personal morality!"

“‘It’s based on “A View from the Bridge.”’

Right! They’re really going to for that.

“Yeah. [laughs] I think it’s good, and when it’s right, when the show works, the mystery works. It has a Sherlock Holmes-ian feel to it, and you do kind of want to know what’s wrong with [the patients]. And it is interesting, the turns and twists that get you there. And there’s always a little bit of character-driven fun stuff in between, of who these people are and how they affect each other. And that’s it at its best. And I guess that could be true of any show.

“It’s tricky, you’ve got a lead character [who’s different from the TV norm] and you’ve got to be careful because those characters can be one-note. He’s the cranky guy, he’s the Australian guy, I’m the friend in one or two scenes a week. You just have to be careful, and I think we are, we have a really great team of writers. And the numbers are building, people are watching.”

So this two-parter on May 2 and 3, I think the unofficial subtitle is the “Festival of Foreman.” I guess they’re his Emmy episodes, and that’s fine. But you’re hardly in them, what’s up with that?

“Honestly, I’m okay. I don’t want an Emmy. This is what I want -- I know exactly what I want. I did play with a guy named Skip Sudduth, ‘The Iceman Cometh,’ seven years ago. I saw him five years later, and I said, ‘Geez, Skip, where have you been? I don’t see you at readings anymore.’ He said, ‘I’ve been on “Third Watch.”’ It sounded familiar but I’d never seen it. He said, ‘I’ve been doing it for five years.’ I said, ‘Holy crap!’ And he was back doing theater. That’s my dream.

“And it’s happening. I walk down the street and people say, ‘Where are you?’ and I say, ‘I’m on this show called “House.”’ My friend Lewis Black [from 'The Daily Show'] said, ‘What is it called? “Head”?’

“I’m okay. I’ve never been happier than where my career is now. And I don’t want it to change necessarily. Money’s good, and I’m glad I’m getting that, and I’m putting it away for later in life when I do more Tom Stoppard plays at Lincoln Center and make no money. But really, I’m great. I don’t mind working two days a week.

“Because those other guys, the Scooby gang, or the Mod Squad -- they are at that studio for 16 hours a day saying ‘tachycardia, lupus, blablahdeblah.’ Honestly, I’d kill myself if had to do those scenes for that long. I’m very happy with the size of my role, I don’t want it to get any bigger. I’m happy.”

So we won’t see the very special “House” episode where Dr. Wilson almost dies?

“That might be how I get off the show.” [laughs]

Well, you could die and come back as a ghost. Then it would be the “House Whisperer.”

“Yeah [laughs]. The hair makeup people were saying one day, ‘Oh, I love those scenes with you and Hugh, there should be more of that.’ And I’m like, ‘Shhh! Don’t say that!’ I’m the luckiest man in Hollywood. I work only with Hugh, pretty much, who’s great. And I work two days a week.”

Do you fly back and forth to New York then?

"No, not really. They don’t let me because they need me around, the schedule changes so much. I’m going to try to get away with that a little more [in the upcoming season]. Now that [my fiancé] is here, I really will kill myself if I’m out there as much as I was last year, without her.”

So five days a week you’re doing what – Botox injections? Going to the mall? Watching “Maury”?

“Rob Lowe once said the secret to being an actor in L.A. is sleeping as late as you possibly can and going to be as early as possible. I remember him saying, ‘I recommend pajamas by 4:30 p.m.’”

What’s interesting about this show is that they’re taken something that could be a very formulaic procedural and quite often turn it on its head.

“I didn’t know anything about TV, I’d never done [a TV show], but I now know very well that there are procedurals and character-driven shows. ‘Law & Order’ is a procedural and ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ is a character-driven show. The test [as to which category a show is in], someone once said to me, which I thought was hysterical, is this question: Did Sam Waterston sleep with [the assistant DA] on ‘Law & Order’? If the answer is ‘I don’t give a [hoot], I want to know the next element of the case,’ then it’s a procedural.

“Our show is weirdly, and there must be precedent for this, but it’s weirdly equally both. I think it’s very much a procedural, and without that sick patient every week, we wouldn’t work. And without the character stuff it wouldn’t work. And weirdly, people do care if House sleeps with one of our characters, and also care equally what’s wrong with this person and how they’re going to solve the case.”

I guess I like the character stuff better, but you’re right, it probably wouldn’t work without the suspense of the weekly case and somebody being critically ill.

“No, I think you need that. I think the echoes of Sherlock Holmes are too strong. The original idea of the show was House and Wilson, like Holmes and Watson. But it got away from that, and his team is Watson, if you want to be technical about it.

“I’m more like … the only way I’ve found to define it, and it’s so pretentious that it makes me want to jump out a window, is like King Lear’s fool. I’m like the only one who tells him the truth. And [Wilson] has nothing to lose. I don’t work for him and he doesn’t work for me. I’m the only character who chooses to be with him as opposed to being there because of a job. And because of that I have the freedom to tell him what I think. Not that Cuddy holds back much.”

I think her role is to say, "No! Bad House!"

“Have you talked to Lisa Edelstein [who plays Cuddy]? She’s so great. This Japanese woman once said to her, ‘You on “ER”!’ And she said, ‘I have been on “ER,” but now I’m on “House.”’ And [the woman says] ‘Oh yes, “House.” You say, “No, you don’t!”’ Every time we do the table read, I burst into laughter at some point, because there is the voice of that woman in my head, ‘You say “No, you don’t!”’ That’s the entire definition of Lisa’s character. Not completely, but we laugh [about it]. We have the same dilemma. We’re on this show that we’re … kind of on. Crew members say, ‘How long have you been on the show?’ ‘Uh, since the pilot.’ They really don’t know what we’re doing there.”

So in terms of the other stuff going on in your career, that’s going well, all the theater stuff?

“I’ve achieved everything I wanted to do. When I was growing up, I wanted to be Kevin Kline, Sam Waterston. I grew up watching the Public Theater and Shakespeare in the park and Marion Seldes. I mean, I may as well be gay.”

I’m not entirely sure you’re not.

[laughs] “But the thing is, I got it [i.e. his goals]. I’ve done 14 Broadway shows and got a Tony award, and now I’m making money and no one even really knows. I’m getting away with murder. If I come back to New York in two years and nothing’s changed, I’ll be thrilled. All I really want to do is [act in] plays, play with my dog, have kids. My desires are pretty simple. I don’t really want to do movies anymore. I’m pretty tired of camera acting.”

Why are you tired of camera acting? Is it the repetition of it?

“No, no, quite the opposite. We don’t rehearse enough. We do scenes where people barely know their lines, where people just about know their lines. In theater, you do it so many times and you get so familiar that then you can actually start having fun with it. And I really miss that feeling.

“It’s true of films too. I don’t know. I think I’m fine on film, but … I have walked offstage and thought, ‘Wow, no one has done that better. People may have done it as well, but not better.' I’ve actually had that feeling after ‘Long Day’s Journey Into Night,’ or a Shaw play or whatever. I’ve never felt that way with film. I always feel like, ‘Boy, Donald Sutherland would have done that a lot better.’ [laughs] I just don’t think it’s what I do best. I think I’m fine, but there are people who are eerily good at it. In all humility, of which I have none [laughs], that’s how I feel about my work on stage. I really do feel that I’m gifted at it.”

Just to change gears completely, what happens in the finale?

“Well, I think the finale is a bit of a cliffhanger. Something very exciting happens. It’s extremely exciting and freaky and I think it’s great. I can’t say what it is. You end this season very curious about how the next season is going to start. It’s a great final show and a big cliffhanger.”

So it seems like Hugh Laurie is so disparaging of his own talents. But he’s so good as House.

“Some people ask me, ‘Oh, why does Wilson want to hang out with House so much?’ and I’m like, ‘You idiot.’ [laughs] House is designed to be attractive! He’s brilliant, he’s self-deprecating, he has a limp. But yeah, Hugh hates himself and he’s very funny about it. There’s no better combination in my book. Like Lewis Black.”

But as an acting partner, he’s good to work with?

“Oh yeah. The thing is, with this part, Hugh has a huge obstacle he has to deal with, having an American accent. His problem isn’t our problem. We as the audience don’t have that problem, because what he doesn’t know is that he does it perfectly. But of course he doesn’t hear that. That’s why he can’t watch the show.

“When you’re doing an accent, you don’t feel like you’re interesting in the role. Even if everyone around is telling you that you are. And to be in a play is one thing, but to be on TV show that runs for years, I don’t know how he’s going to do it. To be that hard on yourself and be that disappointed in your own work. But as I said, and underline this four times, he’s wrong.”

And then he obviously hates when anyone calls him a sex symbol. You read his quotes when people ask him about that stuff and you can feel the embarrassment rising off the page.

“Yeah, he hates that stuff. And even more than the ‘sexy’ stuff, he hates the ‘you’re brilliant’ stuff. Of course there’s a part of him that likes him, there’s a part of all of us that likes that. [But him being hard on his performance], it’s not false vanity.

“I think Hugh does work he’s proud of and does work he thinks is good, I’m just not sure it’ll ever be this [show]. Having an accent… acting is letting go and forgetting yourself, it’s the opposite of ego. It’s flying away and getting away from yourself and forgetting. And when you’re doing an accent, it’s virtually impossible to do that.

“It’s hard when you're in a play, doing the same lines, the same way for eight months. Hugh learns 72 new lines a day and has to put an American accent on them. It really is an actor’s nightmare. I’ve done [with accents] Brian Friel plays, Martin Sherman plays, Tom Stoppard plays, and maybe five months into it you have a night where you kind of feel OK and kind of forget the accent and let go and let the scene happen. To have a strange accent in your mouth while playing a role, and then be judged for it, that’s hard stuff.

“And can I tell you, when you have dinner with Hugh Laurie [speaking in his real accent]… I miss that voice.”

Yeah. He called me once directly for an interview. I was expecting the publicist to put him through, but it was just that voice on the phone. I was sort of thrown for a minute.

“As we know, I’m straight, but yeah, it’s like, homina homina homina.” [laughs]

---- [source (part 2)] | part 1 | part 3 ---

it took me two hours to track this interview down. it might be the longest one he's ever done. first i tracked it down to tumblr pages posting about it with no source please stop doing that. then i found a short youtube video of laurie saying "homina homina" on an snl skit i think and someone in the comments mentioned the site where the rsl interview was posted. however the site wouldn't let me in, i guess they took it down so i headed to archive dot org. i didn't have a specific link though so that didn't really work out either. then for nearly an hour i tried a wide range of word combinations on google until i stumbled upon a livejournal page of rpf hugh laurie/rsl fanfic. SOMEONE tysm karaokegal posted the exact link i was looking for in the comments. quick trip to the wayback machine and here you go!

i should be on those ethical hacking competition things

#house md #hatecrimes md #gg.txt #robert sean leonard #rsl #interview #source hunting success #hugh laurie #james wilson #gregory house #i nearly went insane #trying to find this thing #part 3 is an interview w katie jacobs #part 1 is general quotes #muted

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palajae · 11 months

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hypegirl! | final.

PAIRING ▸ soccer player! niki x afab! reader

GENRE ▸ soccerl! au, roommates!au, she's the man! au, romance, fluff, angst, humor

WORD COUNT ▸ 4k

SUMMARY ▸ all you want is to join the boys’ soccer team. all niki wants is to get minji’s attention. as roommates, what better than to strike a deal and help each other out? nothing really, except for one glaring issue: your blossoming feelings for said roommate. oh, and the fact that you’re technically supposed to be your brother, kim sunoo.

AKA a hopefully more sfw version of she's the man?

NOTES ▸ based off she’s the man (2006), reader is sunoo's sister and pretends to be her brother sunoo, gender swap, like one curse word, kissing,— please let me know if there’s any typos!

masterlist. | previous.

I DON’T WANNA FIGHT YOUR SHADOW…

“what? you want to do what?”

niki doesn’t say anything as his head hangs low. he stares at the ground, dark eyebags prominent.

“niki,” jungwon sighs in exasperation, “let’s think rationally about this. we’ve been working toward this day for weeks. this is it. we can’t make any last minute changes now.”

“right,” jay chimes in.

“sunoo’s become a valuable player on the team. we need him. seriously, what could have possibly happened that you suddenly want to kick him off the day of playoffs?”

niki only shakes his head as the rest of the team exchanges looks.

“sorry man, but we keep personal business off the field. sunoo’s in, whether you like it or not.”

sunoo’s worried—to say the least. between you not replying to any of his texts and the current dilemma at hand, he isn’t sure what to do.

all he can do is clench his trusty flute as his band arrives at your camp.

it’s hectic, with kids and directors running around attempting to prepare the performance for the game. essentially a perfect chance for sunoo to sneak and snoop around.

sunoo manages to spot the boys locker room, and he takes his chance.

the minute he steps in, he’s greeted by the smell of deodorant, grass, and… the mustiness of sport locker rooms.

guys are everywhere, clothes and gear strewn all over the place as they prepare for the tournament.

he glances around for any sight of you, not exactly sure what to look for but still keeping an eye out for a smaller figure. sunoo takes about three steps forward, until he yelps.

he feels an arm roughly pulling him toward the side, and he whips his head around.

“sunoo-dude, where were you? we were starting to think you weren’t gonna show up! get changed, the first match is gonna start soon.”

his heart drops. no way, did they think he was-

a jersey is flung at his face. somehow, in the midst of the chaos, face paint is slathered onto his face, effectively concealing his identity even more.

where were you?

first match, first half—to everyone’s shock—enhypen’s down.

most yells are directed at, who’d you least expect, kim sunoo.

“kim! what are you doing?”

“pass! no-here! to me! ”

“why are you so slow today?!”

all sunoo can do is apologize while wheezing. he wasn’t built for this. it’s not like he had much of a choice, he was shoved onto the field.

at one point, jungwon’s eyes flash at him and he visibly shrinks.

“dude, i don’t know what’s going on, but we’re subbing you out.”

you jump up to the sound of cheers, an announcer yelling—

“and enhypen takes home their first win with a great comeback in the second half!”

enhypen? win? comeback?

you scramble to your feet, heart racing.

crap. what time was it?

you pat your pockets to no avail.

that’s right—your phone was left in your dorm…that you couldn’t access because niki kicked you out.

more cheers from outside bring you back to your current situation. you overslept since you didn’t have your phone alarm.

the tournament started. enhypen played and won their first match, without you.

you frown, scrambling to get to the stadium. who in the world played for you?

once you make it past the crowd of people, coaches, and players, you scan the field.

and your mouth drops open.

on the opposite side of the soccer field, sitting on the bench right in front of you, was kim sunoo. the real one, your brother.

he was decked out in face paint and—

was that your uniform?

somehow, you manage to make eye contact. you begin mouthing words furiously at him, only for him to point at the crowd.

frowning, you turn around toward the audience and performing band. you squint.

your mouth drops again. because there in the crowd, sitting in the middle row right in front of you, were your parents.

immediately, you turn around and flee toward the locker rooms, signaling for sunoo to follow while everyone was still distracted with your team’s win.

you don’t even get to take a single step when the announcer clears his throat to say something.

“attention everyone! enhypen is disqualified. they must forfeit this match and immediately report to the main office.”

gasps and protests immediately ring out.

you hide behind a water cooler, gauging the guys reactions. they all look confused and upset.

niki stalks over to the camp director and coach, where an unimpressed taehyun stands with his arms crossed.

“what’s going on? why do we have to forfeit? we won fair and square, there’s no-“

“i wouldn’t count lying and having a girl on your team as fair and square, nishimura.”

the whole team outbursts, while your coach sighs, rubbing his hand over his face.

the director eyes sunoo, “we have pretty good reason and evidence to believe that kim sunoo is not who he—or she—states they are.”

sunoo immediately stands up as the rest of the team gapes at him.

“females are not allowed at this camp, let alone allowed on a team to play in the final championships.”

taehyun nods. he had found too many irregularities with you, kim sunoo. the conversations with your mom, video footage of you sneaking into the locker rooms as a guy and exiting as a girl, and the fake sideburns and eyebrows in the trash can.

niki stands still, hands clenched as he glares at sunoo.

he can hear the rest of the guys whispering in disbelief.

“this makes no sense. how could he be a girl after all this time?”

“and no one noticed…”

“—this is absurd.”

the announcer sighs, and speaks up once more to the entire stadium. “i apologize once again to the crowd and opponent team for the inconvenience. enhypen will be removed from the tournament due to dishonesty and lack of regards for the rules.

i do not want to repeat it—no females are allowed to play on any team for any reason whatsoever!”

you gasp, covering a hand over your mouth. you were still partially hidden, and you know if you were found, it would be over.

sunoo sighs, facing the guys and camp director.

“put enhypen back in the game. we didn’t break any rules. i’m not a girl.”

taehyun’s eyes narrow. “you can’t lie your way out of it again. we have all the evidence we need.”

sunoo gestures out grandly, toward your team and the crowd.

“do i have to spell it out to you? i’m a guy. this is ridiculous. what, you want me to prove i’m not a girl? i’ll pull down my pants or-“

clamor follows, but it’s stopped by a desperate yell.

you watch from afar, as your parents stalk up to the director. your mother, as expected, seems adamant as she validates her son’s words.

“excuse me, but there seems to be an issue with my son, here. there’s no possible way you would be doubting his identity?”

“ma’am, we have submitted evidence that your son sunoo is actually a-“

“and so do i. would you like to see his birth certificate? i didn’t pay for my son to attend this camp to simply get disqualified for a ridiculous accusation.”

after a few minutes of deliberation, against taehyun’s protests, the director sighs and rubs his hands together. you hold your breath. the verdict?

“we apologize for our mistake—enhyphen is not disqualified and will be moving on to the next round. let the next match commence!”

you watch your team breathe a sigh of relief, clapping sunoo on the back. but your gaze can’t seem to stay off of niki. he stays off to the side, fists still clenched. he hasn’t looked or said a single word to sunoo—you.

you know him, there’s a storm brewing inside.

and it’s all because of you.

you see the crowd return to normal, your mom furiously spewing nonsense as your parents walk back to their seats.

you nod at your brother, this is your chance.

you run towards an empty hallway, waiting for your brother to bring you your clothes.

“sorry,” sunoo heaves, “they’re sweaty.”

“it’s okay,” you grab them and shut the unused closet door behind you. “i’m used to it by now.”

sunoo waits outside the old janitor closet, keeping watch as you change and exchange identities, once again.

once you exit, sunoo’s eyes widen.

“wow, you look exactly like me.”

you smirk. “and you’re horrible at soccer.”

he shoves you softly and you laugh. “thanks bro. i really owe you one for saving me out there.”

he nods, “anything for my sister. i need to sneak back to the band though. let me know if you need anything and good luck.”

you hug him quickly. “of course.” the confidence that surged through you as you walked back toward the field, knowing your brother had your back, empowers you.

“guys,” you call out, “i’m back. what’s going on?”

some of the guys still send you weird looks, but you ignore it. niki’s still ignoring you, and it makes a dreadful feeling grow in the pit of your stomach.

the matches were cut down in order to fit all of them in one day and preserve the player’s energies.

but your team was excelling. you had already advanced to the semifinals, as expected. with you back and eager to play, the team was running smoothly.

after winning your third match, jay and heeseung high five you.

“nice, sunoo. i don’t know what happened to you during the first game, but you redeemed yourself.” you cough, muttering some lame excuse.

everything was going great, all except for one person. every break, time out, the whole time, niki acted as if you didn’t exist.

in the middle of the game, you would keep up with him, waiting for him to pass the ball. but niki being the stubborn person he was, ignored you and tried to keep going even when you were open.

mistakes were costly, and you could feel the tension building up. the other guys were getting agitated, you could tell, but he wouldn’t budge.

you kept telling yourself, one more match. all you needed to do was win one more match and that would be it.

it was nearing the end of the day. everyone was sweaty and exhausted. half the crowd had left, but your parents were still there, cheering for their son meanwhile in reality, he was playing in the band a few meters away in the stands and their daughter was on the field.

the final match was occurring, enhypen vs. zerobaseone. you knew, it wasn’t going to be easy. not with an uncooperative niki.

and by the first half, you were right. after calling out niki so many times to pass the ball and receiving nothing in response, everyone was on edge.

the score was still 0-0. several times niki would get the ball stolen or make the ball go out, all while ignoring you. you swear he even tripped you at one point.

at halftime, your coach and teammates were fed up too. “come on, niki. get your head in the game!”

“what’s going on with you and sunoo today?”

“you’re costing us too many opportunities. kim’s open and you’re obviously not giving it to him for a reason! figure it out, nishimura.”

all he does is shake his head, chugging water and staying silent.

you’re tired. your coach shakes his head in frustration, muttering off about personal issues.

the team is completely off balance, and everyone can feel it.

but only you can do something about it.

with heavy breaths, you match up to niki in front of the whole team.

“nishimura riki!” you call out his real name, causes him to react for a second with the slight widening of his eyes before he reverts to his cold facade again.

“why are you doing this right now? we’re a team, now that we got so far, don’t you want to win?

“maybe you should’ve thought about that before lying to me and breaking our friendship,“ he replies ruthlessly.

you sigh, pinching your nose bridge, “it wasn’t my intention to do so! i never had any intention of doing so, and i never will! i don’t like minji and i never tried to get with her.”

you exhale, trying to calm yourself while the whole team was watching.

“i will never like minji.”

he scoffs, “why should I believe you after everything?”

“because the whole time i’ve been genuine. you’re one of my closest friends i’ve made here at the camp. if i really wanted to date minji, i would have told you that. you know i tried my best to help you,” your voice cracks at the last sentence.

he looks confused for a second before his eyes harden.

“whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore. i can’t trust anything you say or do now.”

you grab his arm, desperate.

“we’ve been honest about everything, haven’t we? i don’t want to lose you, and i don’t want our team to lose this chance of winning. i don’t care about minji. i could prove it right now.”

he challenges you, eyes dark. just like he had since the first day.

“how? how will you prove it?”

you close your eyes, taking in a deep breath. you decided this was your chance to let it all out. after this, you would go home anyway. whether you would be forced back to your old, mundane life as your mother wanted was up to the future. you open your eyes, finally feeling like yourself as you begin taking off the fake sideburns, eyebrows, and finally, the wig.

“like i said, i don’t care about minji.”

you finally untie your hair and shake it out free.

“i care about you.”

with an eruption of shocked gasps and whispers, you falter. perhaps you should have waited until after the final game. your true identity and appearance were revealed. everything was out in the open.

niki states blankly at you, chest heaving.

you think you faintly hear your parents shriek your name. ignoring them, you step closer to him.

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i lied to you about this. but please believe me when i say i’m y/n, and i never meant to hurt you. so for right now, can we save this for later and just focus on beating the crap out of our opponents?”

you take the chance to glance around, seeing everyone’s shocked expressions.

silence falls as your coach speaks up, “this is illegal…”

you glance away, unable to say or do anything.

what you don’t expect is the team’s clamors, especially from jungwon who you abruptly make eye contact with.

he’s the first to speak up and advocate for you staying on the team.

“coach we all knew the rules… but we can’t not let her play after she’s proven herself all this time.”

“it’s unfair to deny her the right to play after she’s been working so hard this entire season with us!”

as the rest of the boys join in, your coach looks helplessly at the director. soon enough, people from the audience join in too.

you can’t help the hopeful smile that breaks out on your face, seeing your parents still in shock yet not disapproving.

after a couple of minutes of deliberation (and your internal praying and pleading) along with the crowd and band’s support, the camp director begrudgingly allows you to play.

the guys cheer, clapping you on the back and high-fiving you. all except niki, who still lingers at the side with an unreadable expression.

then, it’s time to play.

it feels different, already. you feel different—with the wind blowing your hair behind you and the ability to speak in your normal voice, act as your normal self.

no, to be your normal self.

you ran faster, spotted clearer, worked harder. you felt renewed.

and once you saw the opening, with three minutes left, you glance at niki desperately. you hoped you conveyed everything in your face at that split second, like extending your arm out and hoping he would help you up from the ground.

niki cleanly passes the ball to you, just so you can score a final goal.

you don’t even realize it, once the final whistle blows, you almost collapse onto the grass.

roars erupt in the air, people around you lift you up and throw you around. yet, your eyes are only on one figure to your left. somehow, in all the commotion, niki grabs your hand in happiness. then he realizes the situation and your grip is broken by your ecstatic team.

your eyes lock for a moment before niki turns away, head slightly shaking and you frown.

you won. but at what cost?

on the last day of camp, after surprisingly receiving a lot of praise from your parents on your performance (as well as an apology from keeping you and sunoo from your respective passions), you finish packing up everything.

when you got back to the dorms last night, niki was sleeping with the lights off and his back to you. you were still hurt, but at least he let you back into your room.

you pack up silently, in case he was sleeping.

even if he was asleep, you speak up softly.

“i’m sorry. i’m really, really sorry niki….”

his shadowy figure remains unmoving.

“i-i hope you know everything i ever said and did was genuine. at least, to me it was. i li-“ you bite the words back on your tongue.

“i cared about you a lot. i care about you a lot. i’ll cherish this summer forever. thank you for the best memories. thank you for changing my life completely. thank you for being you, riki.”

figuring that anything you two had was over, you got your stuff ready to go while blinking away the tears.

during the final breakfast, you talked to minji and apologized. she took it much better than you expected, promising to keep in touch as real friends now with no hard feelings left.

the boys on your team were just as quick to warm up to you. besides consoling you over niki, they promised to keep in touch as well. you were more than glad and appreciative to have friends and soccer mates.

in your daze, reflecting over the course of the last day or so, you feel your phone vibrate.

[11:36 am] sunbro: we’re on our way back

[11:37 am] sunbro: better hurry up if you’re not packed and ready!

you gather your stuff and say your final goodbyes to your coaches, friends, and finally, the camp.

you’re happy and sad to be leaving it all behind. maybe until next year now that they decided to let girls join this soccer camp.

with your heavy bags, you trudge along your way outside. you stared around at the campus for the last time by yourself.

it was strange to have some peace and quiet without the ruckus of the soccer camp and guys. one last attempt to capture everything one last time—one of your most memorable and life changing summers.

and maybe a tiny bit of you was searching, holding onto that little piece of hope just to see that one person’s face for the last time.

but it’s silent. you come to a slow when you reach the gates, gathering your stuff to head out.

now you wait. you wait to leave with much more than you entered with.

sighing, you freeze when you hear shuffling, the sound of… footsteps approaching you?

you don’t want to get your hopes up, but you hold your breath.

turning around, you see him.

your grip on the suitcase squeezes harder.

he looks divine, comfy in his last day fit that wasn’t his jersey or training uniform.

“hey,” he starts off.

“hi,” you breathe. for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to meet his intense gaze.

niki doesn’t say anything at first, so you take the chance to speak up.

“what’s up? i figured… you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”

hands shoved in his pockets, he fidgets on his feet. a tiny smile appears on your face.

“i don’t know, there’s a lot i’ve been thinking about.”

your chest tightens. “i see. d-do you want to share?” you finally look him in the eye and it’s like time freezes.

niki isn’t able to handle seeing you like this, your real self. he thought you were too pretty for your own good. too good at pretending to be a guy and too good at making him react like this without even doing anything. without even knowing.

he thought it was over too. but after he heard what you said that night after the championships, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. about the entire summer with you. this time, he wouldn’t let you slip away from him like you did at the fair.

niki glances down, taking a few steps closer as your eyes widen. “i miss my roommate who was also one of my closest friends. i really, really liked him. but i also really, really like the girl i met at the fair. she was beautiful, charming, uplifting.”

you place a hand over your chest, “i think they feel the same way,” you whisper.

“i’m really sorry that i didn’t tell you,” you start off, “i was afraid of getting caught-and of all the consequences, so i tried to hide and cover everything up. it was incredibly selfish of me to hurt others, you, without realizing it. i’m so sorry.”

niki reaches a hand out to grab yours, “yeah, you hurt me. but you also healed me. in more ways than you think. i think, if you hadn’t snuck in as a guy, we would have never met and gotten as close as we did. you really changed my life too.”

he says your name, and you look at him. hesitantly, fearfully.

as if you would mess it all up again and he would leave you once more.

you swallow.

“everything we did together as friends, as someone i wasn’t, just made me like you even more as myself.”

he takes a step closer.

“is there any chance we could start over?”

niki chuckles and you feel your face getting hot.

“i’m nishimura riki. and you are?”

you stare down at his offered hand in shock.

it takes only a second for you to proudly state your name, reaching a hand out to meet his.

“a pretty name for a pretty face.”

you flush. where did this side of niki come from?

“it’s very nice to meet you,” he adds, “quite nice. almost an honor after all the things i heard about you, well, from yourself-“

you shove niki. there was his playful side again. you relax a little seeing him be more like his old self.

although, he catches your arm and quickly pulls you into him.

you almost yelp, wide eyes boring into his playful ones. it feels comfortable in his embrace, almost like home.

the distance between you two closes, smiles on your faces growing as you feel your heartbeats collide when his lips finally touch yours.

“bye mom! i’ll text you later, sunoo!”

your mom yells for you to be careful as you slam the door shut behind you (not without giving your brother a quick hug on the way out).

you carry your duffel bag on one arm as you head over to the waiting vehicle, with a particularly dashing man inside.

he, however, gets out as you run towards him. he picks you up and spins you around as you laugh at his excitement—it was his favorite sound that he could never get enough of.

he places a sweet kiss on your lips and you smile happily at him.

“you ready to play, babe?”

“as ready as i’ll ever be, bro.”

“you totally just did not call your loving, awesome, superior boyfriend that…”

“but i did?” you raise an eyebrow as to challenge him, “and you’re gonna accept it because you like me too much.”

with a sigh, your boyfriend heeds your words as he always does.

niki’s arms stay forever wrapped around you and your soccer bag as he awkwardly walks the both of you to your side of the car.

“whatever, let’s just go kick some ass.”

“oh, you bet i will.”

a/n ▸ hi guys... surprise?? yes, i'm alive. i was in the hospital for a little and really needed to focus on my health so i decided to take a break. i apologize for the longass wait on the ending of this series, so i crammed to get it done :) thank you as always for the support and love. i appreciate all the feedback <3 i'll be trying to get back on a better, more consistent schedule so see you guys soon again!

MAIN TAGLIST ▸ @precioussoulofmine @kynrki @heesterical @jungwonize @rerequire @nvertheless @duolingofanaccount @hoeshii @love-4-keum @nyanggk @luvhyun3 @dimplewonie @yjjungwon @flwrshee

@kflixnet

SERIES TAGLIST ▸ @lwavander @eloelooo @heatrache @harufluff @kjrcrz @kpopstanmeg @luvkpopp @yunicide @nunugget @kyanmeai @enhastolemyheart @j-wyoung @yinviyang @enhawinnieee @suvgs @zhounauts @123-678h @rshmra @they2luv1naia @hoodiebangtan @bachiwrld @lprww @riskiriki @minhosprettywife @fakeuwus @yumilovesloona @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @k25vi

#enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #niki x reader #niki x you #riki nishimura x reader #niki fluff #niki scenarios #niki imagines #nishimura riki #enhypen niki

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sayruq · 11 months

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For today's update, I'm splitting it into three - before Nasrallah's speech, the speech itself, and after the speech. If you don't know who he is, he is Hezbollah's Secretary General and he scheduled an important speech like a week ahead of time. The speech caused quite a stir to say the least to the point where there was a media blackout in Israel.

Before

The clip in the tweet above has gone viral. It shows why guerilla tactics are so effective and sheer bravery and discipline displayed by the Palestinian resistance (no gore).

People have noted that the IDF only announces the deaths of officers. You can imagine how many ordinary soldiers have died in the invasion in Gaza. Also, despite the fact that we know thousands of American soldiers have taken part, the Biden administration is keeping any news of casualties quiet. Eventually we will start to hear about those deaths, just like eventually the administration acknowledged the attacks on American bases in Iraq and Syria (while downplaying the severity of those attacks).

The speech itself

(I'm copying and pasting so I don't go above the max number of tweets embedded per post). Follow the link to see the whole thing. I'll be using OP's tweets for the next part

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: I salute the incomparable, legendary people of Gaza for their patience. Words fail to describe these people, their patience and their steadfastness.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: Today, my speech will focus on what has happened, where our responsibilities lie, and where we are heading.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: I salute the Resistance of Yemen and Iraq who have joined this battle in its very heart.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: Why are we here today? What ignited the Al-Aqsa Flood? There are several factors: the thousands of Palestinian prisoners in "israeli" prisoners, the besiegement of Gaza, the suffocation and oppression in the West Bank...things were bound to explode.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: Al-Aqsa Flood put the righteous Palestinian cause back on the forefront of the causes of the world. It was carried out by the Ezzedine Al-Qassam (r) Brigades. This battle was 100% of Palestinian planning and 100% Palestinian execution.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: The Resistance factions of Hamas completely hid their plans from everyone, even from the other factions of the Resistance Axis, who were very glad they did so. This secrecy is what guaranteed the legendary success of this operation.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: This is honest proof that the decisions of the factions of the Resistance Axis are own. The Islamic Republic of Iran does not control these factions or dictate upon them when to act or not.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: What was done on the 7th of October shuddered the ground under the occupation; it caused a security, political, and psychological quake whose repercussions will remain with this entity now, and in the future.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: This battle revealed the frailty and weakness of the Zionists; it proved that they really are weaker than a spider's web, that even they started to believe this!

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: The Zionists have still not been able to take control, and the rapid involvement of the Americans is proof of the incapability of the Zionists.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: There is no other option to Al-Aqsa Flood. The other option would mean waiting for more death, more besiegement, more settlements. This operation was carried out in perfect timing and it is worth all the sacrifices made.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: The gravest mistake committed by the Zionists is setting the bar of their goals very high. For example, today they set the goal of completely eradicating Hamas. Is this a goal made by a rational human?

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: They had set the same goal in 2006, complete eradication of Hezbollah and the unconditional return of the 2 soldiers. They had America, the West, and the Arabs on their side, and yet they failed to accomplish this goal.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: What is happening today is proof of the incapability and weakness of the "israelis." What are they doing today? They are killing innocent civilians. The Zionists have not been able to make any military wins.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: The "israelis" resorted to the ground invasion when they saw that the Resistance was still capable of fighting despite the immense bombing on Gaza. They try to portray that they are carrying out a large operation, but in reality, they are terrified.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: How will they fight this Resistance? When a fighter walks toward a tank and plants a bomb on it. The scenes from Gaza, of the men, women, & children shouting in support of their Resistance as they are removed from under the rubble tell the Zionists a lot

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: Today, the victims in Gaza, the martyrs, the injured, all expose the true nature of the barbarism of this entity, the complicity of the nations, America's responsibility in all the crimes committed, & the hypocrisy in applying international regulations

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: The repercussions of the "israeli" attacks in 1948 were not only against the Palestinians. Every surrounding nation was affected. Today is the same; the effects of this war are not limited to Gaza or Palestine.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: The first goal today is to put a stop to the war and aggression against Gaza, for humanitarian reasons, and the second goal is the victory of the Resistance in Gaza, specifically Hamas' victory.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: Speeches today are not enough. Nations must cut ties and expell "israeli" ambassadors. You cannot give a speech [in support of Palestine] while you are exporting oil to "israel!"

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: There is an inability to transport the injured from Gaza. Are the Arabs this weak? Are they this unable to open the Rafah Crossing? We have reached a point where we are calling upon the nations to stop exporting oil to "israel" & open the Rafah Crossing!

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: The Islamic Resistance in Iraq has taken responsibility and continues to carry out several operations. The honorable Yemenis are firing missiles and drones against Eilat. I salute them for their bravery.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: Some were saying that the Sayyed will speak to announce Hezbollah's joining of the battle. The Islamic Resistance in Lebanon already joined the battle since October 8. What are they talking about?

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: Some underestimate the operations of the Islamic Resistance conducted at the border, unaware of their significance and importance. These operations are very important, but anyway, they will not suffice alone.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: There is a real battle ongoing from the coast all the way to the Shebaa Farms along the border. This battle is unprecedented between the Resistance and the enemy, not before 2000 or even after.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: The "israeli" army was meant to transport their specialty forces from the West Bank to Gaza, but were then forced to move them to the North. So yes, Lebanon has released some stress from the Gaza front.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: A third of the "israeli" army is now recruited at the Northern front, half their navy forces in the Mediterranean facing Lebanon and Haifa, a quarter of their airforce recruited in the north, half their air defense systems (iron dome etc) facing Lebanon,

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: A third of their logistic forces are recruited against Lebanon. Most of the troops recruited on the Northern front are specialty forces. These are real, accurate numbers.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: Tens of thousands of settlers have evacuated from the northern settlements, which adds to the moral and economic stress. These operations have put the Americans and "israelis" in a state of fear and worry.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: The possibility of matters escalating into an all-out war is very probable. We tell the "israelis" that if they are planning an attack against Lebanon that they are committing the gravest mistake in their history!

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: They told us that the US carriers came to target us, and the Americans threatened to not only bomb us if we continue, but to also bomb Iran. I tell the Americans: your fleets do not scare us, and we have prepared for them what is needed!

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: Escalation on the Lebanese fronts depends on 2 factors: the events in Gaza, and the acts of the enemy against Lebanon. We are a supporting front for Gaza.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: I tell the Americans to remember their defeats in Afghanistan and Iraq. And I tell them that the men who fought them in 1982 in Lebanon are still alive today, and have their sons and grandchildren along with them!

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: To the Americans: You are able to put an end to this aggression as it is yours. And if matters escalate to the a regional war, then your benefits and your soldiers will witness the greatest losses!

[Pause due to Tumblr's text per block limit]

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: The Resistance in Palestine, Lebanon, Iraq, and the entire region is making victories through its patience, steadfastness, and perseverance, for this is a battle of patience and steadfastness to prevent the enemy from accomplishing their goals.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: We must work to end the aggression against Gaza and for the Resistance to emerge victorious. To the Palestinian people, this will take some time, but we are making one victory after the other, which will lead to the ultimate victory, just as in 2006.

Sayyed Hassan #Nasrallah: This is how the Resistance made its victories in 2006, in the West Bank, and in Gaza. Palestine will emerge victorious, and we will meet to celebrate this victory, which will come as a result of us handling our responsibilities with patience.

Turns out I was wrong about 2 things- that Iran and Hezbollah were involved from the very beginning and that Nasrallah would declare war. This was a Palestinian operation through and through and all the other parties were simply inspired to join by their actions on Oct 7th. As far as Hezbollah leadership is concerned, they have been part of the war from the beginning and they have been very effective, destroying an estimated $20 billion worth of equipment in Northern Israel (that number is a bit old).

That was a good speech. It highlights everything that happened since Oct 7th for those who have not been paying close attention, as well as showing that the Resistance will not be cowed by America and it does not plan on stopping any time soon. It's also a nice summary of everything Hezbollah has accomplished. I post updates a lot but that makes it hard to see the bigger picture.

After

Expect an increase in activity from the Resistance as it aims to force Netanyahu to halt the genocidal bombing of Gaza.

#long post #palestine #free palestine #free gaza #gaza #lebanon #hezbollah #from the river to the sea palestine will be free

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greentrickster · 1 year

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Okay, all you aspiring writers out there following my blog listen up, I’m about to lore drop something y’all may need to hear.

Now, I’m a Writer, capital letter and everything. It’s not my profession, it’s just what I am, simple as that. I’m thirty-five as I type this, and I’ve been writing for twenty-three of those years. Made the shift from someone who just does essays and stories and stuff for school to someone who Writes when I was twelve and decided, “I am going to write a Novel.”

Which I did.

Took me four years to finish, a hundred pages on Microsoft Word, single space, because that’s how long I thought it needed to be if it was going to be a novel.

And, y’all.

It’s bad.

Like, so bad.

Like, “I’m not even going to tell you what it’s about, only that it exists, this is a chapter of my life to be mentioned in passing, you will see no more, the way is shut, it was made by the dead and the dead keep it” levels of bad.

While I was doing this, I also wrote a lot of poetry. Some of that was okay. One of my ADHD powers is having a very good ear for both rhyme and rhythm, which is enough to get you labeled as the class poet in 5th grade.

You won’t be seeing any of that either.

It’s not on par with the novel, but like... no one needs to be exposed to my teen-years poetry with the knowledge that that’s what it is.

Being a 1988 model, I didn’t discover fanfiction until about 2006. I was eighteen. The first thing I wrote was an absolute crack!fic that people enjoyed at the time, but which none of you will ever see without accessing the dark web or something similar because I’ve removed it from the legitimate internet. In fact, maybe just kind of treat anything of mine that I wrote before 2010 with extreme caution. And, even then, it’s not until 2014 that we get to my works that are still online which I look back at and go, “That? I’m still really proud of.”

It wasn’t until 2015/2016 that I started seeing myself not as someone who wanted to be a writer, but who already was one.

And it wasn’t until I was a decent start into writing my second mega!fic in 2020 that I looked down and realized that I might be writing something really special. Something that I was so proud of that I didn’t care that it was fanfiction, I was willing to talk to random people about it, because I felt so good and confident about what I was writing.

And that’s actually the point I’m trying to make. When people like me say, “Oh yeah, I’ve been writing for twenty-three years,” it’s not a statement of “Lol, I’m better than you, I’ve been at the top of my game forever, you’ll never catch up.” It’s a statement of, “Writing is a cumulative activity. If I’m good now, it’s because I’ve been doing this for a very long time, maybe longer than you’ve been alive. Look at where twenty-three years of work and practice have gotten me. And, much more importantly... think about where you are right now, and where twenty-three years of work, practice, and life experience will get you.”

Because there are a lot of young writers who I would absolutely consider my equals, don’t think I don’t see you there on AO3 and other places! And that’s what I always wonder when I think of how old you are compared to how old I am. Many of you are so much farther along the path of honing your skills than I was at your age... how much farther along will you be when you’re my age? Keep working at it and you’ll only get better, gain more polish, shine brighter. So many of you are already gems, and it’s my very dear hope that I’ll get to watch you become stars.

#writing stuff #writing advice #writers

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reidingandwriting · 5 months

Text

coming out > shouta aizawa (mha)

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: Aizawa & Daughter!Reader, Reader x Momo (not official,,, yet), mentions of EraserMic

Warnings: Like one or two curse words, anxiety about coming out, probably a little OOC characters but oh wellll. Mostly fluff, I love writing Dadzawa

A/N: This was a request from @wi-2006 I hope you enjoy it!

you fell to the ground with a pained thud, and you scowled as you stared up at the sky. “damn it,” you huffed as you sat up, and you rested on your knees.

“i’m so sorry! are you okay?” izuku held out a hand to you and you allowed him to pull you up before you dusted off the knees of your costume.

“‘m fine,” you brushed back a few strands of hair that had escaped from your ponytail before you got back into position. “i’m ready now.”

“need to focus, kid,” your dad’s voice called from a few yards away where he was helping hitoshi with his capture weapon. to anyone else, he appeared bored, bored of correcting your mistakes and calling out your lack of attention, but you recognized the concern in his voice. you knew he’d be talking to you later and you briefly considered faking sick to avoid the inevitable conversation. “try again, then take a break.”

you nodded as you turned towards izuku again, eyes narrowing as you focused. you had been sparring for what felt like hours at this point, and you wanted to perfect this new takedown. your close combat skills were usually your strength, but you couldn’t focus today.

izuku nodded briefly at you before he was off, and you quickly countered his first attack. the two of you continued to spar, each getting a fair amount of blows in before you finally saw the opening you needed. you jumped into action and when izuku was finally pinned, you leaned back against the ground and let out an ‘oof’ as your back hit the grass, your eyes screwed shut from the sun. you enjoyed the feeling of the sun for a minute, and a moment later, you heard shifting beside you. you squinted your eyes open and reached over, shoving at izuku’s arm as he sat beside you.

“you did good today,” you said and izuku smiled at you.

“thank you! you did, too.” a brief pause. “i asked mr. aizawa if we could go off campus and grab dinner for everyone, i think it’s shoto’s night to cook.” you shuddered at the thought and nodded.

“good idea.” you sat up. “let me get my gym bag and say bye and we can go.” izuku nodded and you stood up, and you walked over to grab your things. hitoshi was finishing his cooldown stretches, your dad watching from a few feet away. you walked up to him and butted your head against the back of his arm. you smiled as your dad’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and his hand ruffled your hair.

“good takedown,” your dad commented before he looked at you. “still coming home tonight?” you nodded, gnawing at your lip. you switched between your dorm with your class and your room in the teacher’s dorms; you loved your classmates but sometimes you needed a break from them. and your dad’s was the best place to get that break. you missed your old house, but you still have the cats and hizashi and your aunt nemuri are close, so it was still pretty nice.

“gonna do dinner, watch a movie, then head over,” you let your eyes flutter closed for a moment, enjoying the rare moment of peace with your dad. he briefly rested his head against your own before he patted your shoulder.

“should shower first, too. don’t need you stinking up the house,” a subtle smirk made its way to his face and you glared up at him.

“just for that, i’m not going to.” you stuck your tongue out at him, narrowly ducking from the stray edge of capture weapon that shot out at you. “rude!”

you exchanged goodbyes with your dad, called out a goodbye to shinsou, then jogged over to izuku. you and izuku walked off campus and you talked about classes, upcoming exams. you were texting the class groupchat about dinner orders when he asked a question that made you pause.

“you seemed really distracted today. is everything okay?” you and izuku were close, you and him quickly becoming friends, and you had the same friend group.

“i’m a little worried about my weekend with my dad,” you admitted after a minute, and izuku stayed quiet, having learned when to let you rant. “he knows something is bothering me and i’m worried about him asking me. i can’t lie to him, he’s my dad. but i’m also terrified of how he’ll react.” izuku stayed quiet for another moment, and you sighed. “i’m thinking about telling him.”

you could practically hear the gears turning in izuku’s head until it clicked. your crush on momo wasn’t glaringly obvious, but you had let it slip to some of your friends (izuku, hitoshi, and ochako). your entire friend group knew you were bisexual, hell you’re pretty sure your entire class did, but your dad didn’t know. and you didn’t know what was worse- telling him about it or him realizing you’ve been hiding it from him for so long. and you were scared. scared of how he’d react, scared if things would change.

“do you want to tell him?”

“yes. no. i don’t know? he can tell something is up and today just confirmed it. it never should’ve taken me that long to knock you on your ass. he’s gonna ask what’s bothering me and i just… i can’t lie to him if he asks me.” your phone vibrated and a quick glance left you smiling once you saw the text. “he’s bound to find out soon, and it would only be worse if he found out from someone else.”

izuku nodded, a sympathetic smile on his lips. “it’ll be scary, but i know you can do it. if you want any of us there with you, we’d all be happy to.”

“thanks, zuku. this is something i need to do myself, though. but if it goes bad, i may hide in your room after.” izuku wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his side, and you wrap your arm around him. “thank you.” no other words were said as you walked into the restaurant and the nervous pit in your stomach started to fade away a little.

dinner came and went, and now your class had spread out across the common room to watch some pre-quirk era movie about this hero that resembled a spider.

“sero! do you think you could-“ denki started and without looking away from the screen, you spoke.

“don’t even think about it,” you said and denki’s friends started laughing.

“okay, sensei,” denki huffed and you instinctively shot a glare at the blonde. denki yelped and hid behind hitoshi, who wrapped an arm around him.

“dude, she’s not actually aizawa, you don’t have to hide from her.” you rolled your eyes, an amused smirk on your lips.

“she looks just like him! look at that,” denki whined. living with aizawa, naturally you adopted his facial expressions and even his ‘teacher voice’ at times. denki would forever be haunted by the resemblance you had to your father when he had accidentally woken you up, your eyes might as well have been glowing with the glare you had given him.

“well he is my father,” you drawled and momo giggled from beside you, and you willed yourself to keep your expression calm.

the rest of the movie played out and you had started to fall asleep on the couch. you froze as you felt a blanket drape over you and someone lean down.

“goodnight,” momo whispered, her lips brushing against your cheek before she excused herself to bed. a minute later, you peeked an eye open and were grateful to see you were the last one in the common area. what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck-

“coming to bed?” your dad’s voice startled you and you jumped off the couch. he raised an eyebrow at you and you nodded.

“sorry, yeah. just started falling asleep,” your dad’s gaze was disbelieving but he dropped it for now.

“have everything you need?” you felt for the phone in your pocket and nodded, and you tucked yourself into your dad’s side as you yawned. “let’s go.”

you woke up the next morning to the smell of coffee and the faint hum of the television. you stretched and yawned as you sat up before you stood and walked to the living room. you were greeted by the sight of your dad, coffee mug in one hand and pen in the other as he graded papers.

“morning,” you greeted as you walked to the coffee maker and you poured yourself a mug. you took a seat beside your dad a minute later, and you looked down at the papers as you leaned against him. “how’d i do?”

“good as usual,” your dad turned to kiss your temple, and you smiled. a comfortable silence filled the room as you watched your dad grade, occasionally looking up at the TV screen. it was quiet, it was peaceful. and then your dad spoke again.

“i’ve noticed you’ve been a little in your head lately. distracted easily, not as focused as usual.” a brief pause. “is everything okay?” you swore your heart stopped and you set your mug down with a shaky breath. your dad set his pen down and turned to face you, his focus fully on you. “kid?”

“i’ve wanted to tell you, i-i was just worried you’d get mad.” you whispered and he frowned.

“well, you’re sitting here now so you haven’t been arrested.” the blunt statement shocked you and you couldn’t help but smile a bit. “i’m your teacher, so i’d know if you were expelled, suspended, or failing anything. none of your classmates ever come to me with any complaints about how you treat them. i don’t see what you could’ve done that would make me upset with you.”

“it’s nothing i did. it’s just… i don’t know how to explain it. just something i… discovered?” you could practically hear the gears in his head turning.

“is it about school?” you shook your head.

“do you remember the crush i had on hitoshi?” you decided to finally get to it and your stomach twisted and turned. he didn’t have his capture weapon on, you could realistically make it out the door before he could get it. you wouldn’t make it far, but you could make it to nemuri’s or hizashi’s. no, you needed to tell him. you could run away after.

your dad nodded. “didn’t that end a while ago? when he started liking someone else?” you nodded.

“i had never had a crush on anyone before hitoshi and when he told me he liked someone else, i was upset. i had my friends to help me through it, and i got close with one of them. i think i really like them, but…”

your dad stayed quiet, waiting to see if you’d continue talking or if he could talk. you took a deep breath before you looked your dad in the eyes. “i like momo.” you whispered. “i, i never liked another girl before and i didn’t know i could. then denki talked to me about it and said i could be bisexual? and i am. bi.”

the silence was deafening and you felt your hands start to shake. you wanted your dad to say something, anything, but you were scared of what he would say.

“have you asked her out yet?”

“i’m sorry, i’ll go back to the- wait, what?”

“why are you apologizing?” your dad asked and suddenly, his expression softening. “did you think i would react badly?” your vision immediately became blurry and your eyes began to burn. seconds later, you were pulled into your dad’s chest and you latched onto him. you sobbed against him, tears soaking through his shirt as he rubbed your back. “you’re happy, you’re healthy, you’re not hurting anyone. that’s all i could ever ask for,” another sob left you at his words and you shifted to look up at him.

one hand combed through your hair and the other cupped your cheek, thumbs wiping away stray tears. “i-i don’t know why, but i thought you’d be mad at me,” you whimpered and your dad shook his head.

“never. you can’t control who you love, it would be illogical to get mad over something you had no control over.” your dad leaned back against the couch, and you curled into his side. “besides, would be extremely irrational of me to get upset over you being bi since i’ve been dating hizashi for the last two months.” it took you a minute to process his words and you sat up.

“what?! you and hizashi?” your dad nodded, amused smile on his face and you stood up. “come on, get up. i need to go talk to him if you thought you two could date without telling me!” laughter filled the dorm and as you walked down the hall a minute later with your dad trailing behind, you couldn’t be happier. maybe now you could finally ask momo on a date.

#aizawa #shouta aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa!daughter #aizawa x daughter!reader #platonic aizawa #my hero x reader #mha x reader #mha fluff #mha fic #my hero academia fic #bnha x reader #bnha fic

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