#and their reams upon reams of issues
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Me: Why am I thinking about sad things now instead of the relatively lighthearted smut I should be writing?
@jenni3penny: Because here is the line connecting the two.
Me: DAMN IT JEN 😭 now I am spiralling.
(Which is to say: if this next chapter of undone and divine ends up sad, you know who to blame.)
#silrah#stupid idiot blorbos#and their reams upon reams of issues#don’t mind me i’ll be over here drowning in thoughts about touch starvation and incitement and denial#halp
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Made You Look
Marinette could proudly say she managed to stumble into the manor’s breakfast room without bumping into any walls on her journey. Just barely. There were several close calls, several stunted stops just before collision, but the important point is that there were no actual collisions along the long path from the bedroom wing. Even at that ungodly hour of the morning, she was deft enough to avoid large, sedentary objects, a feat she often had issues with when she was fully awake.
She rubbed her arms vigorously, or as vigorously as she could manage so early. Her tank top and sleep shorts were perfect for her apartment with a terrible AC that barely managed to keep the heat of the day away, but was nowhere near enough for the mansion. She definitely should have prepared better. She was going to have to keep a few warmer changes of clothing in the manor for her sporadic sleepovers after long missions. None of which helped her at that particular moment she grumbled to herself as she rubbed her arms harder before pushing her hair, still total disarray from sleep, out of her eyes.
She searched around for any evidence of something to wake her up; breakfast, tea, coffee, so focused on her mission, she missed Jason sauntering into the room and tripping on the rug as his eyes fell upon her. He snickered and moved further into the room had to fumble to keep the coffee in his cup from spilling over the sides. He stared at her for a few long seconds, letting his gaze take in her movements and atrocious bed head before he grinned at her. “Morning, Pixie.” ven before continuing. “You look like a disgruntled kitten who got their fur brushed the wrong way.”
She glowered at him; the sharpness of her normally cutting glare dulled from exhaustion. “At least you’re looking,” she finally yawned with a shrug as she collapsed into a seat at the table. The empty table. It was official, they were awake even before Alfred. It truly was a cursed hour.
“You’re pretty hard to miss,” he admitted a bit too quietly for her to hear. “Come on, Pixie! The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and we get to screw over a rich asshole who’s hurting kids tonight. It’s a great day.”
She stared at him incredulously, her eyes finally focusing just to allow it. “Who on Earth pictured you as a morning person. How did that happen? What is wrong with you? You’re supposed to be a creature of the night. Night. Look at that,” she motioned toward the light streaming in through the open windows on the other side of the room. “It’s not night, you abomination of nature,” she snapped before dropping her head onto her folded arms on the table.
He snorted and grinned at her scowl with a shake of his head as he removed his hoodie. “You’re just moody because it’s drafty as fuck in here. You spend the night at the manor, you gotta come prepared.” He dropped his hoodie around her shoulders and messed up her hair further before retrieving his coffee. She opened her mouth but before she could get out the scathing reaming he deserved, he presented the coffee immediately in front of her face. “And you need caffeine.”
She stared at the cup for a moment as if uncertain it was real. She looked between it and him a few times to make sure she was reading the situation correctly and it wasn’t just her hopes making her think he was giving it to her. She grabbed it before he changed his mind, wrapping both hands around it and inhaling the scent. “You are a miracle. The gods’ gift to mankind.”
“Or pixiekind at least,” he chuckled.
She took a large drink and let out a relieved sigh. Her face relaxed into a contented soft expression. “My hero. You are invited to be around all my mornings. This is why you’re my favorite.”
He raised an eyebrow with a bemused smile. “I beat Steph?”
Marinette’s eyes grew wide and after a beat she looked around for her best friend. “My male favorite,” she added quickly.
He snorted but quickly schooled his expression to mock consideration. “So… I beat Adrien,” he nodded.
She grinned and took another long sip. It was perfect. Exactly the blend she would have gotten for herself. It was like he got it specifically for her. It was like heaven. “Yes. You can take that title… as long as you continue to provide sustenance and he isn’t around.”
Jason huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “I’m just impressed you actually got up and you beat everyone else. That has to be some kind of sign of the apocalypse or something.”
She scowled with a huff. “Unnatural time to be up,” she glowered into her coffee. “I refuse to believe Mr. “I am the Night” is up at this hour of the…”
“Good you’re up,” Bruce boomed as he strutted in. “We have a lot to go over before tonight.”
“Oh, come on!” she exclaimed. Her arms were thrown out in disbelief before she even realized it, almost spilling her coffee. She carefully set down her coffee and eyed Bruce analytically, taking note that as soon as he entered the room, Alfred magically appeared with a tray of food. “I refuse to believe this is normal.”
“It’s not,” Alfred assured her. “Waking him before the crack of eleven is a dangerous endeavor for anyone.” He set down the tray and served the food as he continued. “I believe that speaks to the import of tonight’s mission that he awoke so early.”
“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce acknowledged through pursed lips. “We’re just missing Tim and Stephanie. Marinette, do you know where Stephanie is?”
“Still sleeping,” she grumbled, jealousy clear in her voice if not in the way she aggressively speared her eggs.
“Bitch,” Tim managed to grumble through a yawn as he stumbled into the room. He stopped to stare at the cup in front of Marinette and quickly searched the room for more. He managed to keep his panic in check to ask, “Where’d you get the coffee?”
She looked around and noticed Alfred had brought in food and orange juice but no coffee. “Jason,” she shrugged.
Tim looked at Jason expectantly. He rolled his eyes and looked away. “I only brought the one cup,” he grumbled.
Tim blinked. His eyes slid over to Marinette happily sipping her coffee and back to Jason. “You only bought one cup?” he asked, a knowing, taunting edge to his voice.
“Yes,” Jason gritted out through clenched teeth.
The shoulder check he delivered on his way to sit next to Marinette only caused Tim’s smile to widen, all evidence of drowsiness in his eyes eradicated in favor of a delighted glint. “No, no. I’m just trying to figure out if you bought that planning to give it to her or if it was supposed to be for you, but you took one look at her and gave it up instantly.”
“Shut it duck boy,” he hissed just loud enough for Tim to hear.
Tim tutted at him, his smile wider than when Damian accidentally smacked himself in the head with an escrima stick during practice. “Stealing Harley’s lines now, wow, you’re really in deep, huh?”
Jason turned on him with a warning glare but before he could whisper any threats, Bruce interrupted. “Okay, let’s get started without Stephanie. Jason, you can catch her up. She’ll be on guard on the opposite side of the building from you. Okay…”
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“I have control of the security feed and alarms, but they have a man stationed at the top of the stairs, blocking the way. He isn’t paying close attention, but enough we can’t get in,” Red Robin reported over the coms.
“We need a distraction,” Bruce said quietly, moving his lips as little as possible in case anyone was watching. “Anyone got a plan?”
“Oh God, I might blind myself if I have to witness Brucie tonight,” Red Hood groaned.
“I believe that’s my cue,” Marinette chimed in.
“Let me know if you need help with that,” Red Hood offered. He was already searching for things he could blow up or set on fire.
“You think I don't know how to make a scene?” she asked carefully. There was a sharp edge to her voice, a warning as much as an inquiry.
“We need people to look at you instead of the office,” Red Hood elaborated, like explaining why you wash the dishes to a toddler.
Marinette froze and lifted her eyes up to where Jason was positioned, willing him to appear at the skylight so she could appropriately glare at him. “You think I don’t know how to make people look at me?”
“Ooooohhhh,” Spoiler jeered. She shook her head and took her eyes from her post just enough to toss a pebble, the only projectile available other than her com, at Hood for his stupidity.
Hood whipped his head toward the source of the impact against his helmet and pointed threateningly at Spoiler. “I’m just saying a cute, sweet, little smile isn’t exactly scene inducing,” he defended.
“Oh,” Spoiler let out, unsure how to respond to that patronizing admission of interest.
“Awww, you think my smile is cute?” Marinette cooed condescendingly. The blasé, gala-ready smile morphing into a strained, determined uptick of her lips.
“Hood, Marinette…” Bruce started in a warning tone.
“Calm down boys, because I know at least Spoiler has my back here,” Marinette cut in.
“Damn right,” Spoiler agreed.
“Despite what Hood thinks, I know how to make people look at me when I want to.” She continued slightly louder when Hood tried to cut in. “…and sweet was the furthest thing from the plan.” She looked around the room for the necessary ingredients to her plan, her eyes settling on a figure in the distance, his arm resting comfortably on a woman’s waist. She grinned as all the pieces slotted themselves into place.
“You don’t wear Versace to not get noticed.” She moved toward the couple with quick, determined steps, and more than a slight sway in her hips as she moved. Her eyes focused intently on her target, not allowing her to notice the way heads around her turned as she passed by. Hood, however, just barely stopped the growl that threatened to escape upon seeing the lecherous looks she was receiving from Gotham’s ‘elite’. “Get ready, Red, I’m about to make a scene. Four minutes to Go Time,” she spoke lowly but clearly into the coms.
Spoiler followed her line of sight and cackled loudly into the com. “This is going to be good. I should have brought popcorn.”
She stopped just behind the man, but in clear sight of the woman and firmly tapped the shoulder of the arm around the woman’s waist. “Excuse me, sir, I’m such a huge fan of yours. Your music makes me feel things I can’t describe.” Her voice was breathy and deep in a way the bat boys had heard from many a woman at galas and events, but never from her. “Would you care to dance?”
“Oh my God,” Red Robin whispered in horror when the man turned around.
The man looked her up and down and raised an eyebrow at her. He looked around as if considering his response, his eyes only flicking up to the skylight for a moment before returning to Marinette. His face split into a dangerous smile as he removed his arm from the woman who dropped her jaw in a way more characteristic of a soap opera than a high society gala. The man offered his hand to Marinette. “I would love to dance with someone as lovely as yourself.”
He took her hand and led her to the floor with little more than a huff and glare from the woman. “Ooohhh, sorry Pixie, not the scene you were looking for,” Hood cooed in mock sympathy.
“Um… this is going to be a waltz,” Red Robin cut in uncertainly. “Do you even know how to dance a waltz?”
“Luckily, that wasn’t the scene I was planning. Even luckier for me, waltz is the only ballroom dance I know,” Marinette hissed under her breath.
“You’re going to distract them… with a waltz,” Hood asked. “I never learned ballroom dancing but isn’t that like the most boring of all of them?”
“Yes,” Red Robin answered instantly. “And even if you know it, how do you know he does?”
“Is the plan to bore them to death?” Hood snickered. “Bold approach there, Pixie.”
“Are you sure about this, Marinette?” Bruce asked quietly.
“Maybe you boys need to shut the fuck up and have a bit of faith,” Spoiler cut in, her voice harsh and cold. “You focus on your jobs and let Marinette focus on hers.” After a beat she groaned. “And now I’m the responsible one. This is all your guys’ fault.”
Marinette chuckled and the hostility that had caused her frame to tense eased slightly at her best friend’s words. “Maybe you boys are just doing it wrong,” Marinette singsonged quietly. “Or maybe I’m just that good.” She waited until she and the man had taken position at the middle of the floor before getting into proper waltz frame and turning her head from the man, the picture of the highly trained ballroom dancer she wasn’t. “Get ready Red. Count down to 90 seconds until I’ve distracted them,” she said in barely more than a whisper.
Tim set his watch and watched her out of the corner of his eye for the right moment, still uncertain of her plan. Whatever Stephanie and Marinette said, he had nightmares of learning the waltz and watching it performed at functions throughout his childhood. It was by far one of the worst and most grating parts of his childhood. From what he could see, Marinette was not deviating from his memories. The dance was stiff, structured, and suffocating.
“You call this a scene?” Hood scoffed after thirty seconds.
“You call this a dance?” Marinette taunted at almost the same moment.
“Marinette, you cannot just insult Luka freaking Couffaine!” Tim chastised. If she ruined his chance of ever meeting Jagged Stone, his favorite artist and… Marinette’s friend. He narrowed his eyes at the two for a few seconds then rolled them in realization. He’d been too focused on the mission and up too early that morning to have put the pieces together earlier.
Spoiler chuckled. “She already tried breaking up his engagement. What’s a little… provocation?”
“Oh, you want to dance,” Luka smirked. A devilish glint shown in his eyes, a look Jason did not appreciate at all.
Marinette grinned fiendishly in response, the glint in her eyes matching his. “I believe that’s what I asked for,” she agreed.
He slid his hand to the small of her back, splaying his fingers as he moved and jerked her against him. His arms were still rigid and in position, but now wrapped around her. His legs interlaced with hers, their movements almost synced to just miss each other by millimeters. They moved around the floor, twisting and turning quickly and with purpose. The audience split to give them more room both to see them better and to avoid getting hit when she spun.
He spun her out and pulled her back to him, pressing her tight against his body and continuing to spin her with him, moving and contorting as one as they did, but never allowing her space. He spun her within his embrace just enough for her back to be against his chest. They moved slowly as his hands traced her arms lightly but sensually.
“That’s not proper waltz form. You’re supposed to leave room for Jesus,” Hood growled loudly.
Marinette smirked just slightly before turning back to Luka. She wrapped an arm around his neck and lifted her leg to wrap it over his hip, her dress splitting along the slit to reveal her shapely leg almost up to her hip, allowing him to drag her with him as he walked backwards. His intense gaze never leaving hers as they moved.
Even from the roof, Jason could see the way his hands fisted into her hips and his eyes hungrily soaked her in. “How’s your helmet doing, Hood,” Spoiler taunted.
He had to shake his head to remember where he was before he could respond. “Fine. Why?”
“Thought it might be steaming up,” she shrugged. Her voice dripping with perverse pleasure.
“Mission accomplished,” Red Robin reported just as the music finished. “I’m out.”
“Wrap this up,” Bruce said quietly. “Let’s get out of here before they discover they’ve been robbed. Hood, Spoiler, follow us out.” He made a show of spilling his drink on himself and made excuses to leave.
Marinette let her arms slowly drop to her sides but didn’t take a step back from Luka. “Thank you, M. Couffaine,” she said sweetly. “I appreciate the… personal attention.”
He nodded and traced her jaw lightly. “Always glad to appease a… fan,” he responded. His voice was thick and sinful.
Marinette brushed a long strand of hair over her shoulder, tapping off the com as she moved so he could see. He leaned closer setting his lips just short of her ear. “See you at the wedding?” He whispered.
Marinette’s smile turned genuine as she pulled away just enough to meet his eyes. “Well before, I’m sure. I still need to do some fittings and plan Zoe’s bachelorette party.”
He sighed in defeat but made a show of grazing her side with his free hand. “Not too wild, please,” he begged.
She slid her hand up his chest slowly just openly enough to appear like she was trying to be secretive without actually being so. “Come on, I’m not Alya,” she teased.
“And don’t think I don’t appreciate that,” he answered seriously.
“But fair warning, Steph is helping me plan,” she added with a teasing tone.
He groaned loudly and dropped his forehead to hers. “Well, thanks for the warning anyway.”
She giggled and straightened his tie before meeting his eyes through her lashes. “Of course. And thank Zoe for playing the offended fiancé. Brilliant as always.”
“Oh, I guarantee she’ll be laughing all night,” he snickered. “I think this made our month.”
Marinette nodded slightly and brushed her hair behind her ear again to tap on her com. “Later, M. Couffaine,” she said seductively but loudly enough to be heard by evesdroppers.
He nodded lightly before turning and disappearing into the crowd. “Exiting now,” she said quietly. “Oh, and Hood? Bet, I made you look,” she crowed before turning her com off.
Hood sputtered a few times, unable to find words for a retort until she had already left the building. “I was looking before,” he grumbled to himself. “And I was definitely lied to about the waltz.”
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Marinette made her way through the manor, freshly washed and back in her street clothes, which was ridiculous really since she was just going to go home and climb into bed after her extremely long day. Maybe not even change, because she’d added Jason’s hoodie before heading out the bedroom door and it was comfortable enough that she could happily sleep in it. The scent and warmth would actually help her sleep better than her regular pajamas, certainly better than she had the night before.
She almost screamed when a door opened just as she was passing it, but smiled when she met Jason’s wide eyes. They stared at each other for a moment before chuckling awkwardly and continuing down the hallway. He fell in step with her, hands casually slung in his pockets. They had passed several more doors before he finally spoke up. “Not staying over tonight?”
“No. Not tonight,” she shrugged. “I’m ready to get out of here.”
Jason nodded absently. “Right.” He walked silently with her for a few steps before speaking up again, as casually as he could manage. “Need to get to your meeting?”
“Meeting?” she asked, her head quirked to the side and an eyebrow raised.
“With M. Couffaine,” he elaborated. He tried to keep the bitterness out of his tone when he said that man’s name, but he wasn’t entirely sure he was successful based on the side eye Marinette was giving him.
Both eyebrows raised almost to her hairline at his question. She had to fight desperately with herself not to fall on the floor cackling at his expression. She managed to limit it to just an amused smirk. “With Luka? No, not tonight. I don’t meet him until next week…” she paused to let that set in. She knew she shouldn’t get as much enjoyment out of his dejected reaction as she did, but… she did. If he wasn’t going to make a move, he really had no justification for being upset if someone else did. She let herself enjoy it for a moment before putting him out of his misery. Afterall, she hadn’t made a move either. She met his eyes for just a moment when he glanced over at her and straight ahead again. “… for his fitting,” she finished.
Jason whipped his head back to look at her so hard, she was surprised he didn’t pop any joints in his neck. “His… fitting?” he asked, all bitterness gone from his tone and a bit of hope edging in.
“For his wedding suit,” she smirked. “How’s your neck?”
He rubbed his neck, his eyes still glued to hers. “Fine. You know him?”
“Oh, good. Thought it might have gotten hurt doing that double take,” she nodded indulgently and continued making her way toward the exit, looking as innocent as she could with a devilish smile. “For almost a decade actually. We met when we were like 14. Both of them, him and Zoe, his fiancé. I’m maid of honor at the wedding. I introduced them.”
He fell out of step with her, frozen in shock. She had played him, the entire room, like a master. She had made it almost out of the hallway before he finally barked out a laugh. He jogged to catch up with her and slung his arm over her shoulder. “Come on, Pixie. I’ll drive you home. Unless your buddy is giving you a ride.”
“It was Steph, actually,” she corrected.
“Steph, really? That’s not safe,” he scoffed dramatically. “I’ll take you,” he offered in seeming nonchalance. He preened when he noticed she had nuzzled further into his embrace seemingly without even noticing.
Marinette snorted. “It won’t be safe for you when I tell her you said that,” she warned, but didn’t make a move to head toward the kitchen to meet Stephanie like they’d planned.
He gazed at her out of the side of his eye and tightened his grip on her. “Or maybe it isn’t about your safety,” he admitted quietly. “Maybe you were right. Maybe I want to look a bit longer and you just make me want to look.”
Her heart rate jumped and her breath stuttered. This was quickly moving into uncharted territory. They flirted. They skirted the edges of serious, but they’d never breeched the boundaries. She needed to get back into their normal territory before her heart imploded from anxiety. “Even with my ratty old hoodie on?” she quipped.
“My hoodie,” he corrected. “And it’s worn in, not ‘ratty’.”
Marinette was barely able to raise her eyes to meet his to tease him. “Agree to disagree.”
“I can take it back if…” he started to reach for the zipper.
Marinette dodged his hands and wrapped her arms around her waist to secure the hoodie to her body. “Ratty but warm.” She met his eyes as she walked backward, not noticing she was headed toward a wall until she hit it.
“Uh huh.” He stalked slowly toward her. “For the record, you always made me look; whether you’re dressed up in a dress that costs more than the entire Narrows combined, or in sweats working out, or taking out a rogue in one of your magic suits, or jeans and a tee sketching on the couch when you’re totally lost to everyone and everything, your eyes twinkling with inspiration.”
He stopped a step away from her, so close she had to crane her neck to continue eye contact. “Or even when you’re in my hoodie.” He smoothed the fabric over her shoulders and down her arms and back up, his hands lingering at her hood, right by her neck, no longer pretending they were only there to adjust the hoodie. “Actually, especially in my hoodie. And you in my hoodie in the morning when your hair’s a mess and you’re completely unguarded? It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever se…”
His sentence was cut off by her soft lips colliding with his. He froze for less than a millisecond before his body reacted, acting before his mind caught up with what was happening. One hand wound around her neck to hold her lips in place while the other worked their way down to her hip and pulled her tight against him. His mind caught up just in time to hear her whimper quietly, driving his mind into hyperdrive and heightening every sensation.
He tightened his grip on her to feel more of her against him at the same time she pushed up to deepen the kiss, causing him to groan this time, which seemed to encourage her to let her hands roam his neck and chest, causing him to groan louder. The groan almost turned into a growl when she lowered down and broke contact, both breathing hard.
She took a moment to catch her breath before looking up to meet his eyes through her lashes. “I wasn’t sure you were actually looking,” she said breathlessly. “I hoped, but…”
“Oh, Pixie,” he cupped her face and gently stroked her cheek, “I’ve been watching since you stormed into the Justice League meeting room in the middle of one of B’s speeches and started yelling at him to back the fuck off and stick to his own narrow-minded lane.”
Marinette buried a snort in his chest. “I don’t think that’s exactly what I said,” she muttered against his pectoral, not quite ready to show her face.
“No, I’m pretty sure it was,” he snickered. He pulled back from her and ducked slightly to meet her eyes. “Haven’t been able to stop looking since. I’m too afraid to look away, because everything with you is too important to miss.”
She grinned up at him. “Then maybe you should take a closer look,” she murmured as she guided his lips back to hers.
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I’ve made a post on this already, but after acquiring heaps and reams of knowledge, I’ve decided to go at it again.
(From Mine’s TV Tropes page.)
I cannot stop anyone from wanting to view Mine as bi, and my intentions don’t lie there. But instead, I wanted to bring up that it hardly seems like the intentions of the devs and especially Yokoyama. Mine is a pretty big deal in being a heavily implied gay character regardless of having been a villain, partly due to how he’s just as masculine as his peers and his love for another man is a core part of his characterization where sympathy comes into play. On top of that, they do not shy away from heavy handed hints in his total lack of interest in women romantically and sexually.
Yokoyama is not only a non stranger to commentary on how much he loves Mine, but he’s also made remarks that imply he finds it funny that women are attracted to him though they can’t have him.
RGGO is particularly revealing about this thanks to how much room it gives to focus on character elements they couldn’t do in the actual games.
—A beach event in Okinawa has Kanda wanting to throw a party and see who between them can invite the most women. Mine is less than uninterested, but still winds up getting a few women interested in him. He can’t seem to outright reject them, but gives them very bland answers.
—This is a big trend in other Mine centric stories. Upon being asked by a woman if he’s by himself, he gives a slightly roundabout answer instead of outright saying anything more direct. He agrees to do something with her despite his ongoing lack of enthusiasm.
—As told, he’s gone on dates with women thanks to being unable to turn them down (he’s interestingly kind enough to women even though there’s some popular jokes about him being a misogynistic gay man). But if he sees a woman once, doesn’t really see them again. All in all, this is incredibly different from many other yakuza men who adore women as they slot into the three important status symbols: power, money, and women. All things that Mine brings up at the end of 3 as stuff that wasn’t really giving him any meaning or purpose in life. His line about having any woman he could want goes largely misunderstood. Especially after he ends that line with saying living life that way was a lie.
Comparing an outright love confession to Mine being thankful to have had Katase around feels almost laughable. On one hand, I’m at least glad the person who wrote this acknowledges the romantic feelings with Daigo, but on the other hand… “heavily implied?” With Katase? No… Not every meaningful statement or even so much as breathing the same air as one another between a man and woman is grounds for love.
Genuinely, it feels like they’ve done nearly everything but outright use any direct wording for his sexuality. He’s the only character they’ve gone this far with. Others get more vagueness or subtlety.
(From Majima’s)
(From Zhao’s)
I’ve talked to @04tenno quite a bit about this. And as usual, they’re the reason I know quite a bit, too.
Majima’s section is bizarre to me for immediately throwing out there that he’s a huge ladies’ man. (This was listed elsewhere in his section). Which is just… hilarious. Sure, plenty of irl female fans adore him, but in universe, he’s nothing of the sort and often interacts with women by using a more friendly tone of voice (probably to seem less intimidating) along with other behavioral changes. I also take up issue regarding the way the person who wrote this seems to completely downplay Majima and Kiryu’s relationship to the first game. But that’s a whole other conversation…
Zhao’s section feels incredibly different compared to the other two due to how the person writing it seems to completely lean into the potential signifiers and stereotypes surrounding him and includes other instances beyond that. There’s nothing about him being in a hostess club automatically meaning he’s attracted to women. As such, even a lot of dudebros seem to openly view Zhao as not being bisexual, but instead, straight up gay. This seems to be due to the fact that Zhao is never shown playing into the typical mainstream macho type stuff as opposed to Mine.
I didn’t take a screenshot, but Daigo even gets the assumed-to-be-into-women-because-he-was-next-to-one-treatment. While he went to hostess clubs, he looks so extremely despondent and out of the moment when we see him there. I can’t find it in me to assume he’s attracted to women just because he went to those types of clubs. His sexuality is totally up for debate as several others are as well. And we can all see him however we want. But, overall, immediately assuming things for such and such reasons starts to feel a little off to me. All in all, Mine gets this treatment the worse thanks to his sexuality actually being a big factor in his character.
#yakuza#ryu ga gotoku#like a dragon#yoshitaka mine#queer characters#gay character#queer analysis#sort of in a way maybe possibly#Mine Yoshitaka my favorite Daigo kisser#majima goro#zhao tianyou#I sure hope this makes sense and reads well because I always get uncertain of myself with these things but anyway#who’s going to take it upon themselves to add an entire Ho yay section#anybody? …anybody? no…?#but like I said you can see things how you want of course#it’s just kind of funny to me that some have picked up on Zhao not being excited to be in a hostess club but some others#immediately assume Daigo was overjoyed to be at them himself…apparently#maybe he’d be happy in some other instance but from what we were shown buddy boy is dead inside#also Project X that crossover game was crazy for having Majima talk to women the way that it did like bro that’s how he talks to men#women get the nice customer service voice with a side of playfulness
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HERE COMES THE JUDGE "When Judge Tanya Chutkan presides over the new criminal case against Donald Trump, it won’t be her first time tangling with the former president and his lawyers.
In fact, the U.S. district court judge already dealt the ex-president one of the most significant legal blows of his lifetime, triggering perhaps the greatest deluge of evidence about his bid to subvert the 2020 election — a scheme for which he now stands charged with serious crimes.
The Obama-appointed jurist ruled in fall 2021 that the House Jan. 6 select committee could access reams of Trump’s White House files — a ruling that was subsequently upheld by an appeals court and left undisturbed by the Supreme Court. That evidence — call logs, memos, internal strategy papers and more from the desks of Trump’s most trusted advisers — became the backbone of the committee’s evidence and shaped much of the public’s understanding of his effort to seize a second term he didn’t win.
Much of that evidence resurfaced Tuesday in special counsel Jack Smith’s four-count indictment of Trump, which referenced call logs and White House records that were already familiar to Americans who tracked the Jan. 6 committee proceedings. Chutkan was randomly selected Tuesday to preside over Trump’s latest criminal case, his third in the last four months.
“Presidents are not kings, and Plaintiff is not President,” Chutkan wrote in her 2-year-old ruling, a rebuke that is sure to echo as she prepares to preside over the newest criminal case against the current GOP frontrunner for the presidential nomination in 2024.
Chutkan, 61, was born in Kingston, Jamaica, and came to the U.S. for college as a teenager, attending George Washington University and then law school at the University of Pennsylvania. She spent more than a decade as a public defender in Washington, D.C. She later worked for the law firm Boies Schiller & Flexner before being confirmed as a federal trial judge in Washington in 2014.
Chutkan has avoided some of the most pointed criticisms of Trump that some of her colleagues on the federal bench in D.C. have delivered as they’ve sentenced defendants who participated in the Jan. 6 mob that attacked the Capitol as part of Trump’s bid to remain in power. Judge Reggie Walton has called Trump a “charlatan.” Judge Amit Mehta has said Jan. 6 defendants were “pawns” of Trump and his allies. Judge Amy Berman Jackson has chastised Republicans for refusing to level with Trump about the 2020 election.
“It is not patriotism, it is not standing up for America to stand up for one man — who knows full well that he lost — instead of the Constitution he was trying to subvert,” Jackson said at a sentencing last year.
But Chutkan has delivered some of the harshest sentences to Jan. 6 defendants and made her disgust and horror over the attack clear, lamenting the prospect of renewed political violence in 2024 and noting that no one accused of orchestrating the effort to subvert the election had been held accountable.
“You have made a very good point,” she told Jan. 6 rioter Robert Palmer at his December 2021 sentencing, “that the people who exhorted you and encouraged you and rallied you to go and take action and to fight have not been charged.”
“The issue of who has or has not been charged is not before me. I don’t have any influence on that,” she said. “I have my opinions, but they are not relevant.”
But Chutkan also said that reality wasn’t a reason to go easy on those who bought into the election lies and acted upon that belief.
“The people who planned this and funded it and encouraged it haven’t been charged, but that’s not a reason for you to get a lower sentence,” she said. “I have to make it clear that the actions you engaged in cannot happen again. Every day we’re hearing about reports of antidemocratic factions of people plotting violence, the potential threat of violence, in 2024.”
Chutkan has alluded more specifically to Trump in other Jan. 6 sentences, including her first — to misdemeanor defendant Carl Mazzocco, who Chutkan said “went to the Capitol in support of one man, not in support of our country.”
During those early months of the Jan. 6 investigation, Chutkan also staked out territory that some of her colleagues were reluctant to tread: She pointedly rejected the equivalence some defendants were drawing between violence adjacent to Black Lives Matter protests and the riot at the Capitol.
One Trump-appointed judge, Trevor McFadden, had raised sharp questions about whether Jan. 6 defendants were being treated more harshly than people accused of similar conduct during the summertime violence of 2020.
“I think the U.S. attorney would have more credibility if it was even-handed in its concern about riots and mobs in this city,” McFadden said at the time.
Chutkan, while sentencing a defendant in a different case, appeared to allude to her colleague’s remark, before saying she “flatly” disagreed.
“People gathered all over the country last year to protest the violent murder by the police of an unarmed man. Some of those protesters became violent,” Chutkan said of the protests and rioting that followed George Floyd’s death. “But to compare the actions of people protesting, mostly peacefully, for civil rights, to those of a violent mob seeking to overthrow the lawfully elected government is a false equivalency and ignores a very real danger that the January 6 riot posed to the foundation of our democracy.”
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TwiFicmas23 Day 9: to ground (jasper/archie)
Good evening! An early post tonight because I am fueled by chocolate frogs, the potential for some amateur surgery tonight (doctor approved, it's fine), and the promise that the holiday season is nearly upon us and I'll stop waking up in a terrified haze that I've forgotten to order something that Amazon doesn't stock locally.
It's been a weird day.
Tonight I bring you what at least three people have requested: an Attempt at Jasper/Archie. This was started for Pride and I've continued working on it. This is the first draft, so it'll undergo some polishing and edits before it hits AO3, not to mention a ream of author's notes for context.
This is my first time writing m/m, so I'm oddly fascinated with how this turned out. I think it's okay? I think my biggest issue is characterizing Archie right and making sure I capture what we know about him with what we know about Alice.
I probably need to do more world/lore building for the boys like I have with Jess and Alice, but c'est la vie. I tried and I hope for all the people that wanted this, you enjoy it!
going to ground.
The motel is dim and smells damp, some rundown place halfway to Olympia that was never more than half full, used by truckers and seasonal workers on their way to Peninsula and back home again. The bedspreads were shiny, discoloured polyester; the smell of mould and stale air permeating every crevice.
Archie isn’t happy. But it’s easier to be pissed at the state of this motel to distract himself.
Jasper’s stripped to his waist in the bathroom, prolonging the inevitable. Hot water will alleviate the pain for a short time, but he’s damn well pushing it. He’s not even treating the wounds anymore; he’s just hiding.
It’s always been Jasper’s habit to go to ground when he’s injured. In Calgary, in New Hampshire, and now in Forks. He won’t - can’t - even be around the Cullens when he’s that physically vulnerable. Archie always privately wondered if Jasper brought him alone so that someone had his back, or if he knew Archie would follow him to the ends of the Earth no matter what, or maybe so that he knew that Archie was protected.
His boy was wretchedly overprotective.
Which was, frankly, the reason that they were in this mess in the first place.
Scowling, Archie nudged the bed ruffle with his toe and nodded to himself when it crinkled like plastic. This place really was a dump. Normally, Jasper would take them out in the middle of the forest somewhere, carefully chosen for their inability to be tracked. After Calgary, it had taken Archie weeks to convince Jasper to go home, that it was safe. That they were safe, Maria was gone, and the Cullens were their family - they were no danger to them, they weren’t angry or upset with them for what Maria did (though Esme had been nigh hysterical at their sudden disappearance) - and they needed to go back.
New Hampshire had been somewhat easier; it had only taken a week to get Jasper home, and that hadn’t been an emotionally loaded incident, just some territorial nomads.
And now Forks.
Jasper had driven them here, and it was an unexpected that he hadn’t simply insisted on plunging into the Olympic National Park for days on end. But maybe that was more strategy - the woods were the first place the Cullens would look. A shitty motel halfway to Olympia wouldn’t be a place anyone would come looking for them for days - especially with both Bella and Jacob wounded.
Archie scowls again, and decided he’s been patient enough. He’s not one to sulk over big things - he wants the air cleared and everything resolved. But Jasper hates arguing so much that he’ll cloister himself rather than face Archie. It doesn’t matter where, as long as he can hide - in his study, in the garage with Rose, or - apparently - in a motel bathroom only a few steps above a truck stop.
The pain would be excruciating.
He’s been in there long enough.
“Jas.” He knocks on the door, and hears nothing besides the running tap. He waits a beat before he tries the knob - surprisingly, it’s unlocked and Archie wonders if he missed Jasper unlatching it, or if he just assumed it was locked.
Jasper’s slumped against the wall, his eyes pitch-black. There’s something about them that when they’re thirsty; vampires look gaunt and slightly grey-er than usual. A little closer to dead. Probably not noticeable to humans but to him, who looks at Jasper every single day, he looks miserable.
Archie moves closer, crouching down. Jasper’s eyes are tracking him, but he says nothing.
“Show me,” Archie says gently, but Jasper’s eyes have dropped to Archie’s right arm, covered by his sweatshirt.
“Jasper, you need to let me help you.” He can smell the venom - mostly Jasper’s, but there’s a sharp, foreign note that makes Archie worry. The scent is strong enough that the wound is still open, and it’s been hours. “Please.”
“Let me see it,” Jasper says hoarsely; speaking sounds painful. He needs to hunt, on top of everything, and he can’t. Not yet. Not til they take care of this.
“You first,” Archie replies firmly, but Jasper doesn’t move, his eyes fixed on Archie’s arm.
Sighing, Archie shoves the sleeve of his sweatshirt up; there’s an old ace bandage wrapped around it whilst the skin repaired. But after he removes it, the wound is obvious - the angry purpling of the bite has faded, now that it has been cleaned of foreign venom, it’s only slightly darker and will fade completely in a few hours, especially if Archie goes hunting. It’s a shallow wound, will barely scar. Frankly, Jasper’s given him more impressive marks in bed.
But Jasper doesn’t even stop the horror from rolling off him at the sight of it.
“Your turn,” Archie says in a voice that brooks no arguments, trying to squash the irritation down. It’s been a long time since Jasper’s been this… shaken up over anything, and it’s easier to pretend that it’s him being dramatic over Archie’s bite mark right now.
Jasper nods, and gets on his knees to lean forward.
It looks exactly like Archie’s visions showed him. Worse, actually, because this is real life.
The fissure runs down his back, parallel to his spine, from where his neck and shoulder meet, to his waist. The flesh has split like a geode, and Archie can see all the petrified fat and muscle right down to the bone, with an eerie golden sheen over it all. The edges are purple-black from the foreign venom, almost blistered. In contrast, the bite mark on the back of his neck looks benign, even though it should scare him more.
The whole thing makes him feel sick and frankly, Archie doesn’t feel even a tiny bit capable of dealing with this. He would give anything to have Rose or Carlisle here to patch Jasper up, whilst he flirted and made jokes to distract him.
But Jasper wouldn’t trust them. He might respect Carlisle, and love Rose, but when it comes down to the meat of it, he doesn’t trust them like he trusts Archie.
“Don’t be mad,” Jasper says in that same hoarse, flat voice. “Please don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad,” Archie replies, and it’s not totally a lie. He’s panicking internally, he’s still annoyed and frustrated, but he’s not angry.
Jasper lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a whine, and that pushes Archie into action - Jasper’s in pain and he’s sitting here navel-gazing.
“Come and lie on the bed, and we’ll clean this up. I promise I won’t make any moves on you,” Archie tugs him to his feet, his lame attempt at a joke falling flat. Jasper limps after him, looking miserable.
The groan Jasper lets out as he lies face-down on the bed is made uglier by the way the wound pulls and shifts as he moves. Archie’s not one with a weak stomach, but knowing that mess is attached to the person he loves most in the world… it’s hard to look at.
He almost understands why Edward’s so fixated on keeping Bella safe. If Jasper were as vulnerable as Bella…
There’s no one else to help them, so it has to be Archie.
The bag from the convenience store is on the nightstand; salt, a bottle of cheap vodka, and a tube of aloe vera. It was a goddamn crude kit; Carlisle would be horrified at the use of vodka. Actually, he’d be horrified by this whole set-up. In a perfect world, they’d be back at the Cullens and Archie would be allowed to do this properly.
But they aren’t and he can’t.
Archie had honestly never asked Jasper how they discovered flammable fluids could purge out foreign venom, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know -the vodka would draw out any venom that stuck to the open wound, since foreign venom gained a nearly honey-like stickiness to it after a short time. The inability to purge it successfully was nearly always what caused scarring. Salt worked to purge the rest of the foreign material out of it, and aloe vera kick-started their cells healing again.
It’s not human blood; human blood would do the heavy lifting if they used that, but both of them know that it’s a slippery slope, and one that is best left alone for many reasons. The least of all is the fragile alliance they’ve formed with the Pack. Archie feels like they wouldn’t take kindly to them stealing blood from the hospital, even for injury treatment, so he didn’t even suggest it.
Carlisle would adore to discuss all of this in great detail - he’s been fixated on vampire healing principles for years. Archie should suggest it to Jasper as a holiday gift for next year. Hell, one page of notes would keep Carlisle and Eleazer occupied for days.
The worst part of treating Jasper, Archie decides as he very quickly douses Jasper’s back in salt and alcohol, is the fact that Jasper stays silent. Protesting the pain, even the smallest noise, is a sign of weakness. The only indication of the agony that he’s in is the tightening of his back and arm muscles.
So Archie talks. Everything spills out, all the inane shit that goes through his head - that he’s still disappointed that Bella didn't want to go to senior prom because the dress he had in mind would have been a showstopper, and no he wasn’t going to use it for her wedding dress because that dress has been drawn and cut for a while now.
He complains about the fight, that the wolves blocked his visions and there were one or two half-visions that looked like they spelt doom but nothing came to pass so now he’s reconsidering the accuracy. Or was the fact the wolves are unknowable affecting the outcome?
He’ll have fun debating that one with Edward at some point.
Archie isn’t sure when he runs out of easy words to say, but it does happen as he watches the foreign venom burn out of the fissure, and the room is silent. The only real communication they have is Archie’s hand rubbing Jasper’s shoulder soothingly; the only form of reassurance that he can offer right now. Too many things need to be said. Even more need to not be said.
So, they sit in silence. When the wounds look clear, Archie carefully helps Jasper lie back on the bed. It’ll take a while for them to heal, and it’s draining - Jasper told him that years ago. He’ll need to hunt immediately after this. Jasper lies back with a sigh, a breath released now that the worst of the pain has been dealt with, and closes his eyes. Archie takes up his spot in the rancid-looking armchair, hugging his knees to his chest, and waits.
Jasper breaks the silence after a couple of hours.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He sounds clearer, better, and it’s a tangible relief. Archie immediately crawls onto the bed, motioning for Jasper to lean forward so he can check his back. The fissure already looks so much better; the bite too has lightened, but both are going to leave a nasty scar.
“You still need to hunt,” Archie informs him, absently pressing a kiss to Jasper’s shoulder blade before settling Jasper back against the pillows.
He’s delicious and it doesn’t matter how many years pass, Archie still gets butterflies looking at him. Shirtless and in worn out jeans really is his very best look. If this were any other moment, just a quick getaway for some privacy…
But it isn’t.
“Talk to me,” Jasper said insistently, his hand reaching up to cup Archie’s cheek. “I know you’re still mad.”
“It was a stupid fucking risk,” Archie says precisely, but without the vehemence he had earlier. “I had everything under control. One bite is not the end of the world.”
“It is to me,” Jasper said simply. “When it’s you.”
Archie closed his eyes to drag up some patience. “Jasper. One bite verses this,” he waved his hand over him. “You were mauled. It was opportunistic and you could have gotten killed.” His voice rises and he has to stop himself, keep his temper. It’s the fear of what could have happened that makes him angry, he knows that. “I have seen you get hurt so many times over the years… so many near misses, so many times you’ve been so close to not coming back, not being there, that the fact you take those risks…”
He closes his eyes for a moment to compose himself, and instinctively lies next to Jasper, curled to rest his head on Jasper’s shoulder. It brings back memories, the scent of Jasper’s skin (the same leather-sun-wood he’s known for decades, but tinged with the venom and alcohol that leaves him uneasy) not quite soothing Archie’s anxiety. He remembers the visions where Jasper was too far gone to fight but he still went into battle. How many times did he nearly lose his head, did he nearly get overrun by enemy soldiers desperate to prove themselves by bringing down the Major of Monterrey?
How many times did Archie watch everything he ever wanted fade away for a second, because Jasper took a stupid fucking risk? And he was certain those days were over so many times - when they met; Ohio in ’49; Calgary is ’76; New Hampshire in ’81, and now Forks. It just never stops; it’s always going to linger, that idea that Jasper is never going to be safe, never going to be protected.
“If you’d been able to see it, would you have stopped me?” Jasper asks softly, one arm wrapping around Archie.
“Duh.” He’s tracing the scars on Jasper’s chest now, scars he knows so well he could draw them with his eyes closed - an absent gesture that calms him. “You never would have noticed.”
“Exactly.” Jasper waits for Archie to acknowledge his point, but he doesn’t look up. “I saw what was happening and I stopped it. The same way you would have for me.”
“But you were…” Archie scrunches his eyes up and turns away. “I would have been okay. One bite is nothing compared to all of this!”
Maybe this will turn into a proper argument. They haven’t had one since Calgary. Maybe they’re due for one.
“Come back,” Jasper says, and he sounds so tired that Archie rolls back over reflexively, but sprawled half-across Jasper’s chest this time, staring up into Jasper’s black eyes.
“I’ve seen arm bites go terribly, terribly wrong,” Jasper said in that low voice that he used just for Archie’s ears; intimate and almost dark. “You’ve seen Peter’s scars; that’s one of the better outcomes from a bad bite. And there is no part of me I wouldn’t sacrifice to make sure you aren’t the one with a mutilated arm - if we managed to save your arm at all. That newborn wasn’t going to just bite you; he was prepared to take his pound of flesh, and I…
“The injuries I’ve seen on the battlefield… Arch, I know what our venom can do to vampire skin. I’ve seen it go half necrotic, I’ve seen it eat through flesh until you just have to amputate at the shoulder. Neither Maria or I ever figured out why that happened to some bites. Only that it did and there was nothing we could do. It might just be a bite, but I couldn’t risk it. I wouldn’t risk anything about you, ever.”
Archie leads out a huff of breath and Jasper chuckles, brushing his hair from his face.
“I’m not gonna lie to you, it got away from me for a moment,” Jasper continued, his hand cupping Archie’s face again. “But I knew you were there and you had my back and that everything was going to be okay as long as you were.”
“You know that it’s the same for me, right? That it’s only going to be okay for me if you are?” Archie’s contemplating kissing him right now, but not if that’s going to interrupt this talk so that they have to finish it later. “I need you to… I need you to be selfish and be safe. Every time I think it’s gonna be okay and we don’t have to worry about dying any more, something changes and I’m tired, Jas. I’m so, so tired.”
Jasper ghosts a kiss over Archie’s cheek, and it’s not enough. “I’m never going to apologise for protecting you, and I’m never going to stop making sure you’re okay,” Jasper murmured, frowning as he shifted on the bed to redistribute their weight. “But I swear I will always come back to you, okay? When it’s our time, we’ll go together.”
Archie nods, and that’s when Jasper surprises him by pulling him flush and kissing him hard. It’s the kind of kiss that is always a precursor for more, especially if Jasper’s hand on his belt is any indication of how the rest of the night is going to go.
And he’s okay with that, as long as Jasper doesn’t mess up his back any worse.
Tomorrow, he’s going to have to check in with their family, reassure them that everything is okay, and drag Jasper home and pretend they just ran off to fuck in the woods and everything is fine. There were no grievous bodily wounds tended to in a rank little highway motel, there were no meltdowns.
But right now, he’s going to take this kiss, and the next one, and just be here and now, with the battle over and won and everyone in one piece. He’s going to get his boy naked and have one of those nights they don’t get to have very often in a family of seven where they don’t have to be quiet or subtle or keep one ear out for potential interruptions.
And he’s going to turn those words over in his mind - “When it’s our time, we’ll go together” - warm and safe, until he can trust and believe that they aren’t just a promise, but their future.
#archie cullen#jasper hale#jasper hale/archie cullen#you know what#jalice#it counts#twilight lgbtq#gay twilight#ficmas23#ficmas#my fic: going to ground#my fic: archie/jasper#i think the final version will be longer#i feel like i can add some stuff#we'll see#twilight: the fandom i started writing smut AND m/m for#archie goes full BSOD every time jasper takes off his shirt#no thoughts only jasper#jasper thinks it's funny because he's scarred to hell and not particularly physically special#still headcanoning archie as either half latino or italian#both work for my purposes honestly#archie and maria just yelling abuse at each other in spanish and jasper refusing to translate Old Spanish slang to the cullens#because nothing that is being said should ever be repeated#could be fun
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Roger That (One-shot NSFW)
Silco x f!reader - NSFW
CW: dirty talk, groping, lingerie, established relationship, swears, phonetic alphabet/military talk?, fluff, the worst jokes I’ve ever written (I mean it, they’re shameful), MDNI please
2.6k words
Summary: You decide to give the Eye of Zaun a cheeky little gift in an attempt to bring you closer together. Of course, your idea backfires when Silco takes it upon himself to use that gift to torment you at the most inappropriate times…
A/N: I was already in the middle of writing this one up when parm posted her John Seed drabble (read it, it’s very good, and also NSFW). I promise I didn’t mean to have a similar premise, I’m just an idiot with bad timing! -elsie x
-
It only dawned on you that your little idea may have been a mistake when the sound of Silco’s dangerously low voice vibrates through your ear canal, as if he was standing directly behind you.
“What are you wearing, my dove?”
In hindsight, giving the Eye of Zaun the ability to speak to you whenever he wanted, from anywhere within The Last Drop, could have only ended in this kind of exquisite disaster.
You’d been busy overseeing the training of a new recruit in the bar’s basement when your partner’s voice rang through the little earpiece that connected you to him, through the new set of walkie talkies you’d purchased as a gift.
The idea had been born from your ever-growing frustration that you barely saw your partner-in-crime anymore. You’d originally hoped that taking the step of moving in with Silco would have solved the problem, but it had most likely exacerbated it.
As his in-house manager, you were in charge of supervising the staff in their day-to-day business. It had quickly become a job you not only enjoyed, but excelled in, as you found yourself receiving mission reports, sorting out any internal conflicts, and even training the new recruits to meet Silco’s high standard of combat. Although, without a doubt, the most rewarding part was that it eased the weight off your lover’s shoulders, instead of letting him take all the responsibility himself.
But the practicalities of your new role meant that your days were usually spent in the basement of The Last Drop or in the bar, whereas Silco’s would be spent in his office completing endless reams of paperwork, or out doing rounds on the shimmer factories.
Granted, you adored the time you did get to spend with him. Waking up in the morning wrapped in his arms felt like your own personal heaven. Those few moments where you could gently run your fingers through his soft, greying hair, as he traced soothing patterns on your lower back in the peaceful quiet, were more addictive than any dose of shimmer.
But as of late, those moments were few and far between. To make matters worse, the arrival of an issue from one of the chem-barons acting up had resulted in both of your workloads being doubled. All in all, it meant that you were so busy, you barely even saw one another to eat or sleep, let alone talk. So the chance to rectify that dilemma may have been on the forefront of your mind when you came across your gift.
You’d been out buying new weapons for an upcoming raid when you’d seen them. A set of long-range walkie talkies.The arms-dealer had insisted they were perfect for missions that required stealth because they worked at an impressive distance between each handset. But your mind had other plans for the little gadgets, that definitely didn’t involve covert missions in the field.
When you’d first presented him with your gift, he’d been, to put it mildly, fucking baffled.
“What’s this?” Silco had asked, his brow furrowing as he looked down at the equipment you’d placed on his desk.
“Walkie Talkies,” you tell him.
“What for?”
“So we can talkie while we walkie.”
The dead-pan look he’d given you was akin to being smacked in the face with a wet fish. Normally, you’d have cackled with laughter at his wicked sense of comedic timing, but you’d felt much too tired and disheartened to fully appreciate it. You missed him.
You sighed unhappily.
“I hate that this mess with the chem-barons means we hardly get to see each other anymore. So, I thought we could use these to talk to each other when we’re apart, but both in the building. I just thought it might bring us a bit closer together,” you’d admitted quietly.
Silco’s cool demeanour had melted instantly at your heartfelt confession.
“Alright, my lovely. How do they work?”
Your smile is nothing short of tender as you’d shown him which button lets you talk to one another, which changes the frequency, and how he can attach the ear piece so no-one else can hear your voice but him. Then, you’d begun to test just how far apart they actually worked, starting from the other side of his office, and gradually getting further and further away until you’re standing in the basement, listening to him ramble about the absurdity of new technology.
At first, you’d only used the walkie talkies to inform each other of any pressing news, or to tell one another that you were going out. Of course, that quickly progressed to asking him how he was, if he needed anything to eat, or just reminding him to take a break every so often.
Then, you’d started to take the opportunity to interject his day with terrible jokes, in a futile attempt to make the old man laugh.
“Knock knock.”
“What?”
“Knock knock,” you repeat, as you sit at a table in the bar, sorting through your file of reports from the week’s assignments.
His sigh is crackly as it reverberates through the ear piece.
“Come on, Sil, play along,” you beg, in an almost melodic tone.
There’s silence on the other end, which you take as a sign to ask again.
“Knock knock.”
“Who is there?” Silco asks reluctantly, as if it’s shortening his life span by simply uttering the question.
“The Industrial-ist,” you emphasise.
“…Darling.”
“Alright, alright, don’t get your knickers in an industrial-twist!”
There’s a pointed silence and you can only imagine the wonderful expression of pure agony that must be adorning his face.
“That was horrific.”
“I know, that’s why you love me,” you tell him smugly.
You’d even tried to get him to learn the phonetic alphabet, but that plan had back-fired when you’d decided to tease him at a time when he was absolutely exhausted, and not really in the mood for your playful torment.
“Hey, Sil?”
“Yes, darling?”
“You’re a Bravo Indigo Tango Charlie Hotel.”
“…I see.”
“Not really, you’re wonderful.”
“Thank you, dear.”
“I mean it, you’re Golf… Oscar… Romeo… uh, Golf? Uh…what’s next? G, O, R, G… Shit, this is much harder to do off the top of my head,” you ramble into the microphone, “Gorgeous! I’m trying to tell you you’re gorgeous!”
“Not as gorgeous as you, my dear.”
And despite his lacklustre response, you knew he wasn’t really mad at you. Hell, if he wasn’t so tired, he’d probably have retorted with a name that was much worse, or, if you were lucky, would have threatened to tie you up.
Of course, regardless of the teasing, you never missed the opportunity to express your overflowing love for him, especially when you knew he was stressed or having a difficult day.
“Sweetheart?” you would call, pressing the button down when you were sure no-one else was listening.
“Yes, my lovely?”
“I love you.”
“I love you,” was his steady, yet ardent reply.
And even though it wasn’t the first time you’d heard him declare those words (and it certainly wouldn’t be the last), it still made your heart flutter, like it had been enchanted with the purest of magic.
Unfortunately for you, the love of your life had quickly worked out that if the walkie talkies could be used to amiably chat to you throughout the day, then they could also be used for more risqué communications. Silco knew that only you could hear his voice with the earpiece in, which only served to make his ministrations more provocative.
One time, you’d been handing out paychecks to the staff when his low, gravelly voice had rung through the ear piece.
“I’m thinking of you.”
“Oh, yeah?” you’d replied, startling some of the staff members in the bar.
“Thinking of all the lovely sounds you’re going to make tonight when I lick every inch of you.”
…The horny, old bastard.
And that particular development was how you’d found yourself standing in the basement, feeling an odd mixture of both horrified and aroused at the sound of Silco’s filthy question in your ear.
“What are you wearing, my dove?”
His low tone of voice revealed exactly where he was going with his line of questioning, and it must have shown on your face, because the recruit who was busy doing sit-ups frowned at your flustered expression.
It was no secret that your walkie talkie was only connected to Silco, so the recruit had every right to look as suspicious as they did at your change in demeanour. You cleared your throat nervously and shifted on your feet, trying to choose the most generic response you could think of.
“Uh…the usual?” you reply tentatively, hoping he’ll understand you were in the presence of an audience.
“Take it off.”
Oh no. Nope. You’re not doing that right now. No chance in hell.
You should have known he’d eventually try something like this, the sadistic little fucker.
“I can’t right now, I’m training a recruit,” you tell him, hoping your dry, professional voice will put him off.
“What is their name?”
“Sorry?”
“What is the recruit’s name?”
“Bree.”
The poor recruit looks petrified at their name being mentioned to the Eye of Zaun, and you give them an apologetic glance. It doesn’t seem to help.
“If you’re not in our bedroom in 5 minutes, I’ll come down there and force Bree to watch while I pull your clothes off one by one with my teeth.”
Despite the many outrageous rumours about the King of the Undercity, the one that was irrevocably and undeniably true, was that he always delivered on a threat.
You scramble to dismiss the recruit, who was beginning to look decidedly ill with how pale their face had become, no doubt concerned they were in some kind of trouble with the kingpin.
After a mad dash up the stairs, through the bar, and up into his office, you’re basically panting by the time you reach the door to your adjoining bedroom. If it wasn’t at the very least from your quick movements, the breathlessness was definitely from excitement at finally getting to spend some quality time with your partner. And by the sound of his demanding voice earlier, you can only assume that Silco is feeling just the same.
Your heart racing as you place your fingers on the door handle, you push the bedroom door open and gingerly step into the room.
He’s not in there.
…What?
You briefly panic that he’d gotten too impatient and that you’d somehow missed him making his way down to the basement.
“Okay, I’m here. Where are you?” you speak, as you press the button down.
“Put it on.”
It’s only after hearing his emphatic command that you spot the silk, almost see-through chemise laid out on the bed. Oh.
Part of you isn’t actually that surprised. Silco was very generous in his gifts to you, and you were more than aware of his penchant for seeing you in expensive (revealing) clothing. Heat flushes through your body thinking of the way you know his eyes will shamelessly roam over you, so you diligently put it on like he asked, expecting him to appear as soon as you’re suitably dressed for him.
“I’m wearing it,” you say, as alluringly as possible into the walkie talkie.
“Come down to the bar.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Absolutely not.
What was he thinking?? There was no way you were going to walk through The Last Drop for all his guards and employees to see you in such a revealing outfit.
“Silco, I’m not walking about the place dressed like this,” you mumble, your cheeks growing red in embarrassment.
“No-one else will see you, darling. I promise. You’re all mine. For my eyes only.”
Well, you couldn’t say no to that.
You make your way through the office, and cautiously peek your head around the door, peering into the corridor. Unable to spot the guard who usually stands at the entrance, you creep your way towards the bar, praying to Janna that nobody will see you. You didn’t think you’d be able to look any of the staff in the eye again if they saw you wearing this.
With nowhere to clip the walkie talkie onto, you carried it in your hand, the earpiece still snugly in your ear as you finally emerged onto the balcony of the bar. It’s completely empty. It had been populated with a few employees and the bar staff when you’d dashed through on your way up to Silco’s office earlier, but now, it was desolate. How had he managed to clear it out so quickly? Maybe it had something to do with him being the most dangerous man in the city. Hmm. Maybe.
The lights had been turned down so low, that you could barely see into the shadows of the bar, and no amount of squinting was helping you to see where your lover was hiding.
Ah. So that’s what he was after. A little game of cat and mouse. And you’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t send a pleasant shiver up your spine.
A quick turn of the head revealed that the curtain to your private booth across the mezzanine was closed, which usually meant that it was occupied. Would he really make it that easy? You decide to take your chances and surreptitiously stalk over to the booth, trying to keep your footsteps as light as possible.
“Are we playing hide and seek?” you ask into the microphone coyly, as you approach the curtain of the private booth.
There’s no response, so you assume you must be getting close enough that speaking would give his position away. Slowly, slowly, you reach out to wrap your fingers around the curtain, and yank it back. It’s empty.
“Not quite, my lovely. You’re going to have to try a bit harder than that if you want to find me,” Silco taunts, his tone becoming more and more wicked as he speaks.
You huff out a noise of frustration and make your way down the stairs to the main floor of the bar. It’s even more difficult to navigate the room downstairs and you find yourself struggling to avoid bumping into anything and giving yourself any unwanted bruises. Carefully, you edge your way through the bar, peering into the corners you think he might be hidden in.
Just as you’re about to pass another booth, a pair of strong arms grab you around the waist and yank you backwards onto the cool, leather seats. You can’t help the startled shriek you let out, but it’s quickly cut off when you finally see his captivating eyes, as you’re pulled onto his lap. You’re straddling him now, chest to chest, with your calves lining the outside of his thighs.
“I win,” Silco murmurs, his pupils blown wide as you latch your hands comfortably around his shoulders.
As expected, his mismatched eyes begin to traverse every inch of your body, lingering on the curves of skin that are revealed to him. His sinful hands trace a smooth pattern from your neck, to the small of your back, around your waist, and down the outside of your thighs. The sensations his touch causes to ripple through your body are ethereal.
“Ravishing,” he purrs, as he leans forward to drag his lips along your collarbone, “I must say, I was dubious when you bought these little devices, but I see their value now.”
With his confession now out in the open, Silco roughly pulls the earpiece from your ear at the same time as he pinches your backside, causing you to yelp in surprise.
“Now, take it off so I can devour you.”
You blindly throw the walkie talkie across the cushioned seat and lean forward, so your lips touch the shell of his ear, as you whisper seductively.
“Roger That, sir.”
-
A/N: I promise I’ll write something more serious soon, I’m just having too much fun putting silco in the most ridiculous situations I can think of lmao
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Can I please get a drabble of Anon (fem pronouns please) assisting Hyde with lab work and asking for a thank you kiss?
(For the purpose of these drabbles I'm going to treat Anon like a player character and approach the scenario like they're part of the group.)
Anon padded down the hall until she stopped just short of Edward Hyde's laboratory. Usually she wouldn't disturb him at such a late hour but something had been weighing heavily on her mind and Edward, brusque though he could be, often had good perspective to offer and his directness often afforded her a straightforward answer and a clean solution. As she plucked up the courage to knock on the laboratory door, she hoped he wouldn't be cross with her.
She waited, listening to the sound of objects being shuffled and the clink of glass against the desk he set down his work. Nothing had been hurled against the door and no sound of cursing or shattering issued forth. Anon took this as an encouraging sign and waited patiently, knowing that further knocking might push Hyde's mood from tolerance to irritation.
The door opened, revealing a more ragged than usual Edward. His hair was grimy, his eyes bloodshot and set in deep sockets with circles so dark that they looked bruised. Yet he did not seem angry with her, if anything it looked as though he were relieved for an excuse to stop working.
"And what brings the young lass to my door?" he rasped, lips lifting away from his jagged teeth in a half smile.
"I was hoping you could answer a question for me," she asked, "Don't spare me or give me false hope...is it true the anti-lycan formula will stop working soon? That Larry's building a resistance to it?"
Hyde studied her and nodded gravely, "I'm working on a new strain as we speak but in all honestly, it's bleak." he said, "I've had little progress and we're running out of time."
Anon's face fell, not the news she wanted to hear, but she appreciated his honesty.
"Will that be all then?" Hyde asked gruffly, discomfited by her obvious disappointment.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Anon asked.
Hyde studied her, his mouth drawing into a tight line and he scratched one of his mutton-chop sideburns thoughtfully, "I've the acquaintance of a mycologist in town, Alice Liddel, queer woman but very reliable, likely she'll have what I need. Go see her and you can pick up 10 grams of Inocybe aeruginascens. Can you remember that name or shall I need to write it down for you?’
“Write it down,” Anon replied flatly.
Hyde chuckled, and reached for a ream of paper from his desk, tearing off a scrap and jotting down the name and amount in his cramped, sharply slanted handwriting, “There you are, love. Agree to get me those mushrooms and I’ll throw in an extra 5 quid for you.”
She took the scrap from him and chewed her lip, hesitating for a moment before she made up her mind that she wanted something else in reward for her efforts.
“Might I have a kiss instead?” she asked, rather more boldly than she had intended.
Hyde’s shaggy head swiveled upon his short neck in surprise, “You want a kiss? From me?” he asked, bemused at the idea, “Why not. But I ain’t going to give it to you, you’ll need to come here and take it.” he took a long stride backwards into his lab and grinned at her expectantly.
Anon hesitated for only a moment, it was too late to take it back now, she reasoned and she followed after him. She bent over him and placed a soft kiss on his lips.
Before she could withdraw Hyde had locked his arms around her and dipped her, so that he was bowed over her. His kiss was rough, more than a little sloppy and the coarse hair on his chin tickled her. To her surprise Anon did not find it an unpleasant experience. Once he had thoroughly kissed her he set her back on her feet, twirled her and gave a jolly laugh, “Nothing like a good kiss, eh? Go on then! Off to bed with you and get me those mushrooms first thing tomorrow.”
Anon barely had time to register him ushering her out of the lab and shutting his door before she was, once again, in the hallway. This time with a note in her hand and a task to complete in the morning.
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D and S for kadira, daeran and lann?
D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?
None of them exactly thought they'd live long enough to dream. Lann was dead set he would die during the Crusade or die within a few years. Daeran was pretty sure the Other was going to take him out and he wasn't entirely sure if the resurrection spell would work. Kadira subconsciously knew either she or her 'adoptive' mother would be sacrificed to the Worldwound. There's a lot of dreaming when Areelu is made to close the Worldwound.
Essentially, they're all discovering what it's like to have dreams.
Marriage is absolutely a thing, and that follows fairly close to both Lann and Daeran's canon with the KC, though it extended to both their other partner and Lann having a different reason to wanting to marry Kadia right away. (A long headcanon about this later!)
There's uncertainty about having children, notably with the expectation of Daeran's first born being in line for the Crown of Mendev, Lann's nerves about birth and pregnancy, and Kadira not being sure if she'd be a good mother. But there's a want, despite all the prickly underpinnings. And they do. Kadira has two children by Daeran and one child by Lann.
They… don't really want to he in the political spotlight, though in Golden Shell, Daeran and Kadira are very much wanted by local Mendevians and Crusaders as a replacement for Galfrey. Lann still wants to go to the sea, and Kadee wants to see the world and Daeran wants his freedom. I can say for a fact the first two years after the crusade they're able to indulge this and bring Woljif along for some of it.
Eventually they start figuring out goals with the reality of what they are… and find loopholes with the expectations to achieve their duties and happiness at the same time.
Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?
I would have to say without a doubt that Lann and Daeran believe and want to help achieve Kadira's goals about closing the Worldwound. They're both not aware of how much of Kadira is keeping to herself until prior to the aasault on Threshhold, they're ride and die and understand some of her actions in trying to drive them away from her.
Lann is absolutely supported by Kadira and Daeran far quicker than either Lann or Daeran realized. I've not posted it yet, but there's a WIP in which Daeran and Lann fight about some issues but Daeran gives a remarkable amount of support about encouraging Lann to speak to his mother as well as Kadira's canon actions in encouraging the reunion. Daeran and Kadira also help Lann with being chief as much as they're able… Kadira's a bit better in that, understanding the mongrels a little better. Daeran does his best.
Daeran is… seems incredibly lacking in goals. So much of that is due to the Other. When he's essentially free form the grasp, it really is hard for him to understand what he wants and that he has to now face even more expectations in his life. Even in Golden Shell where they do avoid the trial, he's a little aimless for the first few months. However, Kadira is always there by his side and protects him when the Inquisition does shake their swords at him and takes the weight when their crown is thrust upon them. Lann encourages that Daeran is far wiser than he gives himself credit for, and really is a worthy successor to Galfrey.
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Stolas (also known as Stools, Stoppers and Solas) is "a Great Prince of Hell, commands twenty-six legions of demons. He teaches astronomy and is knowledgeable about herbs, plants, and precious stones. He is often depicted as a raven or a crowned owl with long legs."
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Asmodeus (also Ashmodai, Asmodeus, Asmody, Asmoday) appears as the king 'Asmoday' in the Ars Goetia, where he is said to have a seal in gold and is listed as number thirty-two according to respective rank. He "is strong, powerful and appears with three heads; the first is like a bull, the second like a man, and the third like a ram; the tail of a serpant, and from his mouth issue flames of fire."Also, he sits upon an infernal dragon, holds a lance with a banner, and amongst the Legions of Amaymon, Asmoday governs seventy two legions of inferior spirits.
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A bit of why Stolas was nervous when he heard the name 'Asmodeus' since one is a KING of Hell itself and he, Stolas is below him, a Prince
And this being Ruler/King over Stolas' kind.. Are THESE the Demons and such Asmodeus rules over? This shit is fun!
Poor Stolas got his ass reamed by his King cause he couldn't say 'hey, I like Blitzy, back off!'
Jesus Christ this is fun shit!!
Looking more into this later
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Quiet
Prompt 9: Yawn
Characters: Okuni Tomioka, Mochi, mentions of @louvel-roche's Vulture/"Ollen"
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Insomnia wasn't typically an issue for Mochi's person. When quiet descended on the house and the strange little rectangular device she called a tomephone was turned off, Okuni easily drifted into the ream of slumber. Dreams would sometimes wake her, but by and large Mochi could spend the night either curled at her side or doing cat things elsewhere in the house without worrying over a disturbance.
Tonight was a bit different.
Sprawled out on his person's chest with his tail flicking back and forth gently, Mochi wondered why Okuni's eyes had yet to close. The little rectangle was turned off and the giant glowing sky-circle was out and had been for quite a while. Yet instead of being shut in warm slumber, Okuni's eyes were open, brows furrowed. She smelled of the strange spicy water and the other stuff she liked, the bean liquid he sometimes tried to dip his paws into when she wasn't looking. But usually the smell of the spicy water meant she'd be dead to the world. Okuni reached for the rectangle thing and Mochi gave a concerned trill.
His person sat up suddenly, the glow of the rectangle illuminating the wall behind the bed. Mochi did his best to get her attention. His paws kneaded into her soft chest pillows but she gently pushed him away instead of lying back down.
"Should I call him, Mochi?"
The cat could only answer in a mew. Who?
"I mean, it's late. He's probably asleep. Plus I had to tell him last time we met that his brother turned into a puddle of goo. I doubt that's something that would really inspire affection."
Okuni's hand fell upon the ruff of fur at his neck and he started up a rumbling purr. Oh, was that why she was still awake? She wanted affection? He could do that.
"It doesn't matter how pretty he is. Or how he's been kind enough to humor my blathering. He's a man grieving. This shouldn't even be crossing my mind."
Clearly, his person was in distress, and it was Mochi's duty to help her relax. He purred even louder, stood to arch his back against her palm and made certain to headbonk her under the chin.
"...definitely shouldn't be thinking about that beach and those glints of gold. Shouldn't even wonder if there's more gold decorating more hidden places. The hells is wrong with me? I...should check on him though. Do you think he's doing alright?"
Mochi stretched up to lay his paws upon her shoulders and rub his face against her cheek, rumbling like an engine. The tomephone knocked out of Okuni's hand and tumbled to the floor under the bed.
"Ah...you're right. In the morning, maybe. When I'm sober."
At last his person settled back down. Her eyes closed and her nails scratched pleasantly over Mochi's back.
Though her heart still beat a little faster than usual, Mochi congratulated himself for doing such an exemplary job of helping his person rest.
#ffxivwrite2022#my writing#this one's...meh??#the brain did not want to go for this particular prompt#so you get cat pov#sorta#Kuni Muinvel
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Homan Ardalan - What Are The Benefits Of Private Money Lending
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Mutation or Death by John B. Michel from RASP Pamphlet
"MUTATION OR DEATH" is a transcript of the speech delivered by Donald A. Wollheim for John B. Michel at the Third Eastern Science Fiction Convention, Philadelphia, October 1937.
Mr. CHAIRMAN, MEMBERS of the Convention Committee, visitors, and friends:
What I am about to say is the result of much thinking and introspection on my part and on the part of the several of my friends here today who support a new program for the future of science fiction -- which shall be the main topic of my talk this afternoon.
To open this discussion it would be well to put forward a statement pregnant with meaning, a statement above all appropriate to the speech, a statement heavily loaded with dynamite and fraught with shaking possibilities.
I hereby make that statement.
The Science Fiction Age, as we have known it during the past few years, is over. Definitely over and done with. Dead, gentlemen, of intellectual bankruptcy.
UNFORTUNATELY FOR ANY persons who might still be harboring any thoughts of optimism while moping over the moldering corpse, the decision is entirely final. I am not fooling when I say this. You can take it or leave it. But I believe, in the light of what I shall say further on in this talk, you'll take it.
Naturally such a statement calls for proof, strong, unbending proof guaranteed to stand up under criticism of the most searching nature.
Need I offer any more positive a proof than the conduct of this convention itself?
Gentlemen, we are gathered here this afternoon in solemn conclave -- to do what? To do precisely what?
In a few words let me put forth my opinion on what we are doing. My opinion is that we are baloney bending, throwing the bull, indulging in dull flights of fancy, tossing barrels of rhodomontade all over the place.
I SEE BEFORE ME FANS, writers, editors, and publishers, stf fans all and but a handful really awake to the enormous possibilities inherent in that fragile little thing called science fiction, that potentially mighty force which is rapidly being buried in a deluge of obscure issues, meaningless phrases, stupid interpretations, and aimless goals.
When the first science fiction fan organizations came into existence several years ago, they did so because of a need -- a need, however obscure, which nevertheless existed. That need was expression. We all know the various organizations that were formed. Why recall their history, their mistakes, their stupid, colossal, blundering mistakes of bickering and internal strife and more and still more baloney bending? In reviewing the field in its entirety we would be doing nothing more than adding to the dull, dreary reams upon reams of historical fact, consigned already to the limbo of forgotten things.
THE VERY FACT THAT no single science fiction organization has ever made any lasting impression on anything (except for the single exception of the ISA which did more or less practical research work on rockets before its dissolution) speaks for itself.
It speaks in a resounding question:
Just where has science fiction got to in six or seven years of loosely organized existence?
On a world scale, nowhere. Locally, practically nothing has been done. The great local organizations are gone, their banners furled and tossed on the scrap heap. Internationally, science fiction is but the last gasping beats of a never very strong and young and healthy heart. What remains of it all is a gigantic junk pile of stinking literature and less than puerile achievement.
Just what is this urge to organize, anyway? Why do science fiction fans gather all over the world in local clubs and sit up far in the nights to publish fan magazines and correspond on a scale almost unprecedented in its scope?
Certainly because they like science fiction. And why do they like science fiction? Wherein lies this mysterious attraction which prompts most of them to make a fetish out of a new form of literature, a little tin god, as it were, before which their souls bend and scrape? Is it because of the cadence of the words, the turn of the clever phrases, well constructed paragraphs, a temporary exaltation on reading some powerful descriptive scene? Is it to orate and argue endlessly about the qualities of this or that writer or the shortcomings of this or that writer? We all know that science fiction itself is something different in literature. But what form and shape has it given the ideas of its adherents? Again I repeat, wherein lies this mysterious compelling force which has made science fiction fans accomplish what little practical work they have accomplished?
THE ANSWER IN GREAT part is that science fiction is the smoothest form of escape literature known. In its infinite depths the lost, the lonesome, the inhibited, the frustrated soul finds understanding and expression, precisely because the world to which they escape is a world of their own fancies and imaginings -- a world which they like. In this haven of refuge their creative instincts are given full rein.
I venture to predict that a heavy majority of science fiction fans are escapists. I think I'm right when I say that because I'm a more or less normal type of fan, and I was an escapist and in a certain sense I still am.
But why have the fans stopped at this point, content to revel in a seemingly unending debauch of good fellowship leading to what may seem to be a common end and purpose? As you can see by looking about you in the fan field, what remains of the great directive forces, the organizations proper, is nothing. Fandom has resounded for almost a decade with the hullabaloo and the shouting, and now the hollow shell of a structure stopped suddenly in headlong growth sounds to nothing but a painful silence, sterile on the shores of a lost world.
What are you people looking for, anyway? Do you really intend to go on harping for more and better science fiction? Do you really think that merely asking for more and better science fiction is, in some miraculous way, to lift the field out of the slough? What makes you think that the editors and publishers of the magazines are going to give you their ears? Have they in the past? No. Can it actually be your intended purpose to continue arguing on the pros and cons of the literature of science fiction forever?
Can it? If such is your purpose, you are a pack of fools, content to sit smugly by while the fine talents inherent in your brains, the brains which provided the spark which sent science fiction leaping to a halted youth, stagnate.
SCIENCE FICTION HAS finally come to the parting of the ways with meaningless idealism, and, with that idealism, dies. Science fiction must mutate -- must change into a new form of idealism, a fighting, practical idealism, an idealism based on action and not on words, on experience and achievements and not on bombastic and irrelevant swaggerings.
The main point of this whole discussion is that you fans must prepare to incept this new state of things, else nothing is left but a slow, gradual decay of the gaunt corpse of the body stf until it disappears, eaten up by the fiery acid of mighty world events.
BUT YOU CANNOT!
Because, gentlemen, the world is catching up with you and will pass you by.
Because, gentlemen, there is something in each and every one of you fans which places him automatically above the level of the average person; which, in short, gives him a vastly broadened view of things in general. The outlook is there, the brains are there. Yet, nothing has happened!
But why not give science fiction a meaning? Naturally all types of fiction are idealized versions of situations found in everyday life. Science fiction is an idealized type of vision of the life of the future.
What is wrong with science fiction today is that its outlook on the future has changed; or rather, has never existed in a rational sense.
How can science fiction have any rational outlook on the future when today exists the greatest confusion in world affairs since the dawn of recorded history?
WHAT IS IMPORTANT to us is what science fiction is going to do about it.
Science fiction has to do something about it because its very life is bound up with the future and today practical events are working to shape the outline of that future in bold, sharp relief.
Today we are face to face, FACE TO FACE, I repeat, with the choice: CIVILIZATION or BARBARISM -- reason or ignorance.
As idealists, as visionaries, we cannot retreat before this challenge. We must accept it and carry the battle into the enemy's camp. Hitherto, this challenge has not even been recognized, much less accepted.
So come out of your secure cubbyholes of clubrooms and laboratories and meeting places and look at the world before you.
It is swiftly sinking in darkness and chaos. Why? Because the masses are being led by stupid men to a dreary doom.
Dare any of you deny this? Look at the daily newspapers. Look at the authoritative weeklies and monthlies. You see nothing but confusion and the abandonment of every decent instinct left to this mad system under which we live.
As idealists we cannot refuse to accept the challenge of the future.
THUS TODAY THE world of science fiction totters. Even science, its mainstay, wavers increasingly toward the vague and obscure.
It would seem as though science were too secure in its ivory tower to pay much heed to the wails and groans (and pardon me if I use this old bromide) of suffering humanity. In its lofty and utterly pure elevation it squats safely amidst its own escapist atmosphere and does precisely nothing practical in the way of saving itself from the consequences of the coming world smash.
Out of its test tubes and instruments it extracts life and the energy of the atom and with them both it fills up our war machine and vomits death and terror throughout the world.
On one hand we are faced with the sickening spectacle of scientists throughout the world turning their backs on cold logic for the magic tinsel of colored military trappings, of a Pirandello in art and a Marconi in radio stooging for the Fascist dictator and general dirty rat, Benito Mussolini. On our own side of the Atlantic, renowned scientists and savants such as Millikan and others bow hypocritically before a standardized version of a God (of which none of them could possibly conceive) and attend rallies and demonstrations to uphold our military pride and honor.
As the technical brains of the world in their supreme cynicism line up on the side of reaction, the backbone of science fiction itself dies, dies of inaction, of do-nothingness, of an inability to forget for a while its above-it-allness and lead humanity out of the Valley of the Shadow into the dazzling light of a triumphant future.
WHY ALL THIS? Because we have become stale and we stink in our staleness to the high heavens. Because we are conventional and set in our ways and the old way of life is easier to go on living because it demands little effort on the part of the haves and near-haves. We continue to do the same old things in the same old way and are smug and content in our pipe-dreams of super-scientific smoke. "Why change?" we cry.
Why NOT change? Why in hell not DO something about it?
Great guns! We have brains, technical brains, introspective brains, thoughts and ideals that would put the greatest minds to shame for scope and insight. Put these brains to work before it is too late! The planet is ready for work, for practical work to wipe clean the slate and start anew. We must start anew if we have to smash every old superstition and outworn idea to do it.
We fans can do a lot towards the realization of this rational idea. We can do that because determination very often means achievement. And how sick we are at base of this dull, unsatisfying world, this stupid asininely organized system of ours which demands that a man brutalize and cynicize himself for the possession of a few dollars in a savage, barbarous, and utterly boring struggle to exist.
We say: "Put a stop to this -- NOW!"
We say: "Smash this status quo of ours by smashing the present existing forms of economic and social life!" Boldly, perhaps a bit crudely, we say: "Down with it!" Down with it before the war-lovers clamp on the screws and bind us in submission for who knows how long!
Let humanity swing along in its goalless rut for more hundreds and thousands of years while the universe beckons for our participation in its active life?
Not for us!
FEARLESSLY AND BEFORE the entire world we state our platform and beliefs (and I speak for all the visitors here today wearing the red delegate badges of the NYFA).
We come out wholly and completely in support of every force seeking the advancement of civilization along strictly scientific and humanitarian lines.
All help to the democratic forces of the world!
All help to the heroic defenders of Madrid and Shanghai, defenders of democracy!
Death and destruction to all forms of reaction!
The machine that will shatter forever the reactional assault on civilization is already in motion. Let us become part of it.
It is our job to work and plan and prepare, to teach and expound for the coming of that day when the human race shall stand erect as should a man and gaze on the stark, naked cosmos with firm eyes, to feel the solid, inconceivable impact of the grim void, to flood its consciousness with the realization that in the vast emptiness we must stand on our own feet and fight it out!
THEREFORE:
Be it moved that this, the Third Eastern Science Fiction Convention, shall place itself on record as opposing all forces leading to barbarism, the advancement of pseudo-sciences and militaristic ideologies, and shall further resolve that science fiction should by nature stand for all forces working for a more unified world, a more Utopian existence, the application of science to human happiness, and a saner outlook on life.
The convention members rejected the motion 12 to 8, along straight non-Futurian : Futurian lines.
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Audit Software and Benefits of Using Audit Software
External audits are conducted to determine the validity of quality documentation through external audit management processes, to verify that quality documentation is accurate, and to ensure that documentation corresponds with the regulations and standards that are required within regulated industries.
Audit software provides automated tools that maintain compliance, strict control and manage documentation and streamline product lifecycle processes so that companies can always be ready for a planned or unplanned external audit.
Benefits of Using Accounting Software
Audits are a necessary part of any business, especially those that operate to tight regulations and standards. Whether conducted in-house or by visiting auditors, audits take up considerable amounts of time and require a lot of paperwork. At least, that’s how it used to be – software changes everything, and the benefits of using audit software are undeniable.
The benefits of audit software are as follows :
1) Reduce the duplication of effort
Every auditor has experienced the frustration of carrying out an audit on site, filling out reams of paperwork, then having to return to the office to type up their notes. It’s an unnecessary duplication of effort and adds no value to the audit process.
Audits involve a lot of preparation. It means finding the right paperwork and making checks beforehand to reduce the risk of non-conformities arising.
It wastes so much time!
Using audit software means you can have information ready at the click of a button. Customizable reports make it easy to display data visually if you need to. There’s no more paperwork. It means preparing for an audit is much quicker as non-conformances are quickly highlighted and can be addressed in good time.
With audit software, you can gather evidence and answer questionnaires on the spot. The software allows you to download the audit, work offline for the duration of it and attach relevant data as you gather it. When you’re finished, you can then upload it as a completed audit once you have a wifi connection. There’s no duplication of effort, saving you hours or even days for every audit you carry out.
2) Improve the accuracy of data captured during an audit
Paper audits are not only time-consuming but restrict you to writing notes or completing a checklist without being able to provide accompanying evidence. In addition, there’s significant scope for human error and bias, as a description of a non-conformance can be as detailed (or as vague) as you choose.
Audit management software means you can capture evidence in real time and attach any type of common file, including videos, photos, and sound recordings.
The advantage of being able to attach evidence is that non-conformances can be viewed the same way by everyone –there’s no need for interpretation. This process also eliminates the need to make lengthy notes to describe an issue, once more saving considerable amounts of time.
3) Gather more information during every audit
Chances are you’ve faced an audit and found yourself pushed for time, as you work to make sure your business is compliant and gather the relevant paperwork. Because of this rushing around, you’re more likely to make mistakes and have your attention diverted away from your core duties. A missed file or unclear paper trail takes up more of the auditor’s time and risks them having to hurry the rest of their audit.
The time limits imposed upon an auditor mean information can be missed or incomplete, especially if a problem occurs to delay access to vital details. This means non-conformances may be missed, which in turn could turn into larger and more costly business risks.
Because audit software removes the need to do audits on paper, auditors have more time to analyze the organization in detail and deliver a much broader and comprehensive review of operations. Instead of rifling through paper checklists and writing up notes, they can take photos, record voice notes and video clips, and take the time to get into those granular details that are often overlooked.
4) Eliminate ambiguity in audit reports
What one person says is a major non-conformance, another may describe as minor – and it’s difficult to prove when the only evidence that exists is a few pages of the auditor’s hand-written notes.
Audit management software takes away the confusion and ambiguity by making sure evidence is gathered and attached to an audit on-site there and then.
And reports are no longer affected by bias – it’s all there in black and white (and color, if multimedia evidence is attached!) when you come to review the audit.
5) Demonstrate compliance throughout the audit trail
Working from paper trails makes compliance difficult to prove – one missing file and you risk non-conformances or failing the audit completely. When your business must comply with regulations and standards, downtime to correct issues can be very costly.
Audit software allows you to easily plan and schedule regular internal and external audits, with automated workflows triggered when a finding is raised. This makes it very easy for you to demonstrate your commitment to regulations and other quality standards, delivering a full and comprehensive audit trail for anyone investigating your compliance.
The benefits of using audit software are clear. If your organization performs regular audits, you’re guaranteed to experience significant time savings with audit management software.
Reach us now to speak to one of our experienced professional and discuss about any Auditing requirements. J N J Auditing LLC is one of Flyingcolour group of companies.
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Dream About Killing a Bat
In the event that you have seen bats in your fantasy, this is about your profound excursion, it is in many cases drawing in and fascinating when bats show up. I accept that bats are emblematic of our delightful otherworldly excursion throughout everyday life. To see a dark bat in a fantasy is what I call, taking advantage of our profound route framework that pulls us towards various roads of life. I find that certain individuals overlook otherworldly associations. Bats are a fantasy image that have seemed to advise you that you really want to endeavor to see as a more profound otherworldly significance. My "bat" dream included glancing through a focal point and seeing the most great flying bats. It is my conviction that the fantasy happens in light of the fact that there is a "profound" message for you!
The prevalent view is that bats are for the most part "alarming" and connected with "vampires" can demonstrate that you ought not be frightened about changes. Dream About Killing a Bat land considerations inside your oblivious psyche frequently uncover themselves and come rising to the surface.
What's the significance here when you long for bats?
Profoundly talking, as I have referenced above are turning around your own apprehensions. Overall terms, bats will generally be related with escaping that haziness. To dream about a bat may be a portrayal of the blockages that you may be looking in your life. We as a whole experience issues sooner or later - and this requires shadow work. Contingent upon different parts of the fantasy that you experience, the overall message of this fantasy is to not be terrified to confront hardships you are experiencing in cognizant existence. A flying dark bat in a fantasy can predict your interior shadow in a profound sense (which I framed above) and that you want to see as the light. Going to old western old stories, longing for a flying bat could be the consequence of misery and sadness and it's the ideal opportunity for a change.
Bats ordinarily depend a ton on their instincts and faculties, which is one more justification for why the fantasies about bats are for the most part associated with the instincts of individuals. Bats, by and large, hang topsy turvy, it is accepted that somebody could be seeing things according to an alternate point of view than another. There is an assortment of imagery that is related with the bat. Consider batman, for example, the hero attempting to save the world. Bats emblematically can show shedding off the past and embracing the progressions that are unforeseen and new things going to occur throughout everyday life. It is likewise an image that there are covered up inward profound sentiments as well as instincts.
Bats are nighttime, this is an intriguing trademark with regards to dreaming understanding. They are the main warm blooded animal that have some control over their own wings with their aerobatic developments. As I have referenced before, bats are not visually impaired, all things considered, they have little eyes and can find in totally dark. The expression "visually impaired" is frequently used to address not seeing what is before you. Strangely, this can likewise be utilized for the otherworldly understanding of this fantasy. Bats are the mysterious champions taking cover behind a shroud in the profound domain. A considerable lot of us figure out that we can once in a while be off-base, and the bat is an imagery that occasionally we can't understand how we communicate our thoughts.
Dreams about dark bats
Bats are typically either dark or brown and some have an orange color of fur. Seeing a dark bat is associated with something separated in life since we as a whole have mysteries. There is a cloak that is associated with the subliminal domain when you see a dark bat flying in a fantasy it is a sign that something will become uncovered. The back bat and reams represent the association that you have with your own dim instinct. As bats are an image of progress it could show that change is coming.
Dark bats are likewise very friendly so it demonstrates areas of strength for a to your loved ones. Dark is likewise associated with mystic power and astral travel. At the point when a dark bat is seen topsy turvy in the fantasy it can demonstrate that you can beat dimness and spotlight on change through having a significant impact on your viewpoint. Frequently, dark bats are associated with eternity and the dark bat can recommend that you are probably going to beat feeling depleted.
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Welding Techniques for Fabrication
Welding
Inside industry most of the substances are fabricated inside the desired shapes generally by one of the 3 methods, casting, collecting, machining and welding. The selection of a particular tactic depends upon different factors which might include shape as well as the size of the part, precision required, price, material and its access. Sometimes it is possible to utilise only one specific operation to achieve the desired entity. However , more often you can actually have a choice amongst the processes available for helping to make the end product. Inside the latter case financial system plays the major role in making the end choice.
Welding
CASTING
Spreading is perhaps the most seasoned known method of issuing shapes to materials and alloys. The moment found suitable, oahu is the shortest route within the ore to the close product and generally the most economical. As a result of these days techniques had been developed to throw almost all metals and additionally their alloys but nonetheless there are certain specific items which have very advanced casting properties, such as grey cast straightener.
FORMING
After spreading followed the getting process in which the alloys and their precious metals are given desired patterns by the application involving pressure, either simply by sudden impact that is to say the case of retracted blows or by way of slow kneading motion as in hydraulic squeezes. Mechanical working to a metal below a recrystallisation temperature is addressed as 'Cold Working' and this accomplished above this approach temperature is known as 'Hot Working'. Both awesome and cold being employed (and forming) is actually practised extensively around.
MACHINING
It is the approach to giving the desired contour to a given cloth by removing the excess or unwanted fabric by cutting by using chips. The trimming tool material is normally by necessity difficult and stronger compared to material to be slash. The machining operations commonly employed tend to be turning, milling, drilling, shaping, planning, reaming, boring etc . By way of lathes and milling machines were found in connection with watch generating even in the 15th and sixteenth decades but most of theses processes were presented into the high quantity industries in their show forms for making steady flow engine parts inside the late nineteenth hundred years but have come old in the present century.
WELDING
Welding as it is generally understood today can be comparatively a new neighborhood amongst the fabrication approach through smith forging to join metal portions was practised perhaps before Christ. Because of there are a number of more successful welding process however , arc welding by using coated electrodes is most popular welding course of action the world over.
These days various welding machine formulated for different welding process like arc welding machine, MIG welding machine, TIG welding machine, welding rectifier, spot welding machine, plasma slicing machine and also convenient welding machine prefer inverter welding piece of equipment (IGBT welding).
Arc welding in the country's present form looked on industrial scenario in 1880's. With there are conflicting statements about the inventor with this process but commonly it is attributed to a good Russian named Slavianoff who is claimed of having patented it inside 1881. Arc welding machine, however , isn't accepted for manufacturing of critical elements till about 1920 by which time liner for electrodes ended up being well developed. However , a demand for massive scale production associated with heavy items like lines, pressure vessels, build of bridges etcetera provided the necessary traction for welding ahead of age and the Following World War solidly established it being the major fabrication system.
Welding which is a steps involved in joining two or more areas of material (s) with provides a permanent be a part of but does commonly affect the metallurgy of the components. Therefore, it's usually accompanied by posting weld heat solution (PWHT) for most for the critical components.
A large number of materials can be welded by one operation or the other. Still some are simpler to weld than some. To compare this particular ease in Welding a term "Weldability" is often used. Weldability of a material depends on various factors for example the metallurgical changes of which occur due to welding, changes in solidity in and around the weld, gas evolution in addition to absorption, extent from oxidation, and the affect cracking tendency within the joint. Depending upon such factors plain poor carbon steels include the best weldability between metals. Quite often elements with high castability usually have low weldability.
Welding process traditionally in the industry include oxy-acetylene, manual metal arc or shield alloy arc (SMAW), sunken arc welding (SAW), metal inert propane gas (MIG), tungsten inert gas (TIG), thermit welding and chilled pressure welding. The majority of processes have extraordinary fields of affect like resistance welding is popular with the auto industry, thermit welding for joining track in situ, MIG welding is particularly suited to welding of lower carbon steel buildings in the area as also welding of stainless steels and aluminium, TIG welding is very popular with aeronautical along with nuclear industries, WATCHED welding for cruise ship building, cold difficulty welding by foods processing industry, and etc. However , SMAW or simply stick electrode welding and oxy-acetylene welding processes are the overall purpose processes by having a wide range of apps.
Some of the typical uses of welding have the fabrication of cruise ships, pressure vessels, automotive bodies, off-shore systems, bridges, welded plumbing, sealing of nuclear fuel and explosives etc .
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Text
Welding Techniques for Fabrication
Fabrication
Inside industry most of the substances are fabricated inside the desired shapes generally by one of the 3 methods, casting, collecting, machining and welding. The selection of a particular tactic depends upon different factors which might include shape as well as the size of the part, precision required, price, material and its access. Sometimes it is possible to utilise only one specific operation to achieve the desired entity. However , more often you can actually have a choice amongst the processes available for helping to make the end product. Inside the latter case financial system plays the major role in making the end choice.
Fabrication
CASTING
Spreading is perhaps the most seasoned known method of issuing shapes to materials and alloys. The moment found suitable, oahu is the shortest route within the ore to the close product and generally the most economical. As a result of these days techniques had been developed to throw almost all metals and additionally their alloys but nonetheless there are certain specific items which have very advanced casting properties, such as grey cast straightener.
FORMING
After spreading followed the getting process in which the alloys and their precious metals are given desired patterns by the application involving pressure, either simply by sudden impact that is to say the case of retracted blows or by way of slow kneading motion as in hydraulic squeezes. Mechanical working to a metal below a recrystallisation temperature is addressed as 'Cold Working' and this accomplished above this approach temperature is known as 'Hot Working'. Both awesome and cold being employed (and forming) is actually practised extensively around.
MACHINING
It is the approach to giving the desired contour to a given cloth by removing the excess or unwanted fabric by cutting by using chips. The trimming tool material is normally by necessity difficult and stronger compared to material to be slash. The machining operations commonly employed tend to be turning, milling, drilling, shaping, planning, reaming, boring etc . By way of lathes and milling machines were found in connection with watch generating even in the 15th and sixteenth decades but most of theses processes were presented into the high quantity industries in their show forms for making steady flow engine parts inside the late nineteenth hundred years but have come old in the present century.
WELDING
Welding as it is generally understood today can be comparatively a new neighborhood amongst the fabrication approach through smith forging to join metal portions was practised perhaps before Christ. Because of there are a number of more successful welding process however , arc welding by using coated electrodes is most popular welding course of action the world over.
These days various welding machine formulated for different welding process like arc welding machine, MIG welding machine, TIG welding machine, welding rectifier, spot welding machine, plasma slicing machine and also convenient welding machine prefer inverter welding piece of equipment (IGBT welding).
Arc welding in the country's present form looked on industrial scenario in 1880's. With there are conflicting statements about the inventor with this process but commonly it is attributed to a good Russian named Slavianoff who is claimed of having patented it inside 1881. Arc welding machine, however , isn't accepted for manufacturing of critical elements till about 1920 by which time liner for electrodes ended up being well developed. However , a demand for massive scale production associated with heavy items like lines, pressure vessels, build of bridges etcetera provided the necessary traction for welding ahead of age and the Following World War solidly established it being the major fabrication system.
Welding which is a steps involved in joining two or more areas of material (s) with provides a permanent be a part of but does commonly affect the metallurgy of the components. Therefore, it's usually accompanied by posting weld heat solution (PWHT) for most for the critical components.
A large number of materials can be welded by one operation or the other. Still some are simpler to weld than some. To compare this particular ease in Welding a term "Weldability" is often used. Weldability of a material depends on various factors for example the metallurgical changes of which occur due to welding, changes in solidity in and around the weld, gas evolution in addition to absorption, extent from oxidation, and the affect cracking tendency within the joint. Depending upon such factors plain poor carbon steels include the best weldability between metals. Quite often elements with high castability usually have low weldability.
Welding process traditionally in the industry include oxy-acetylene, manual metal arc or shield alloy arc (SMAW), sunken arc welding (SAW), metal inert propane gas (MIG), tungsten inert gas (TIG), thermit welding and chilled pressure welding. The majority of processes have extraordinary fields of affect like resistance welding is popular with the auto industry, thermit welding for joining track in situ, MIG welding is particularly suited to welding of lower carbon steel buildings in the area as also welding of stainless steels and aluminium, TIG welding is very popular with aeronautical along with nuclear industries, WATCHED welding for cruise ship building, cold difficulty welding by foods processing industry, and etc. However , SMAW or simply stick electrode welding and oxy-acetylene welding processes are the overall purpose processes by having a wide range of apps.
Some of the typical uses of welding have the fabrication of cruise ships, pressure vessels, automotive bodies, off-shore systems, bridges, welded plumbing, sealing of nuclear fuel and explosives etc .
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