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etfrin · 5 months

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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — second chapter | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus is his own warning, elitism

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coriolanus Snow meets his tribute and lands on a cage and then a car ride with his girl <33

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 i never tasted orange chicken but since @nowitsmissing likes it, that means it's good and worthy for Coryo to eat

Series Masterlist | Navigation | previous chapter!

“I wouldn't sing a note for you if I were her!” - Coriolanus reminded himself of Tigris's words as he waited for the train to arrive. Besides a handful of peacekeepers, he was the only one standing in the train station, waiting for the tributes to come.

He wasn't going to lie to himself, he was terrified. He wasn't sure if he was breaking any rules as he stood and waited. The academy hadn't sanctioned this, but they didn't tell the mentors what to do or not to do either.

It's not his fault he's getting a headstart.

Though he was surprised that you weren't here, waiting. He glees internally. He had already one-upped you and was going to continue to do so.

Snow lands on top.

He was going to be five steps ahead of everyone. No one can take the Plinth Prize away from him and he's going to make this ‘Lucy Gray’ won't either.

If not a winner, she'll create a fine spectacle for the Capitol, with her snakes and voice. Even if some part of him was terrified of her, leave it to Dean Highbottom that he got an insane tribute.

And of course, leave it to Dean Highbottom that he gave you someone who has actual chances of winning. And of the same district too, as if trying to push them both into a battle with each other.

It was highly annoying. It felt like Dean Highbottom was mocking him with this. Dangling a carrot in front of him and expecting him to take the bait and snap. But he won't. You weren't going to win this, and Dean Highbottom won't be getting the satisfaction of the Snows' falling.

Finally, the train had arrived, and with it came his Lucy Gray Baird. She was a girl with a rainbow frilly dress and a mess of brown curls. She was pretty (not as much as you) and had a certain accent when she came to him, asking who he was.

“I am Coriolanus Snow,” he begins to introduce himself with a warm tone, “and I am your mentor.”

He holds a white rose in his hand, pushing his arm forward to offer it to her. A part of him watches in horror as she spews nonsense and tears a petal from the beautiful rose and eats it.

She eats it and smiles at him, “Tastes like bedtime.”

A part of him was horrified, his mind solidifying the fact that Lucy Gray was truly insane. But a part of his mind went back to yesterday when you had taken off a petal of the red rose.

When you had crushed it between your fingers, the red juices of the petal pigmented your fingertips. He wonders if he could take the digits in his mouth and clear your skin of the taint if it would taste delicious with the flavor of your skin. If it-

His thoughts were interrupted by Lucy Gray (damn her!). “What does a mentor do besides bringing me flowers?” Her voice calls him out.

He tried hard not to frown or snap at her. He controls his voice, depriving it of the annoyance he feels as he replies, “I try my best to help you win.”

She hums in response. And before he could continue the conversation, the peacekeepers came in to sweep the tributes into a truck. He tried to keep pace and asked for permission if it was alright to enter but was ignored. So when a distraction was caused by a tribute trying to run (foolish, foolish boy), he entered the truck.

He was being stared at by them all as if he was the animal, and not them. All of the tributes looked more or less filthy, sick, and District. It seemed like only Lucy Gray bothered to somewhat take care of her appearance, with her bizarre make-up and rainbow dress.

Soon enough, he was pinned by a black boy, named Reaper. Everyone around him yelling to kill him, cheering him on, goading him on. Lucy Gray decided to prove herself to be useful to Coriolanus. She was the one speaking up about how if he died, their families would be hurt and that she might need him.

Despite many protests and not being convinced to leave him alone, they couldn't do anything about especially when suddenly the truck gates swung open, and then bam!

Light sweeps in and everyone loses their balance. Falling onto bare, rough ground, landing onto a cage. Coriolanus barely managed to stand up before he realized where he was. A zoo, a fitting place for district animals but not for him. Not only that, he was surrounded by people and cameras.

With his luck, this was probably broadcast live. He felt panic rush in his veins, his mouth drying up and his hands getting sweaty. He was going to make a fool out of himself in front of all of Panem, Sejanus, and You.

No, wait, you were there. His wide, panicking eyes find yours. Just like him, you were in your academy uniform. But you were outside the cage and he was in it.

Never on the same side. You and he.

He could feel his body shaking, an anxiety attack beginning with his breaths becoming shorter and shorter. Just then he could see you form the words, ‘Own it. Own it, Coryo.’ He nods in reply, his mind quietening as he becomes focused on a task.

The Capitol wanted a show, he was going to give them one.

He snaps off the stem of the rose and places it on Lucy Gray's ear. He will never know how your eyes glared at him for that action. He takes her hand his, swallowing the disgust about the fact he was touching District.

“Lucy Gray, let me introduce you to my neighbors,” he said as he dragged her in front of the cameras. The girl had been smart so far, if she knew what was good for her, she would continue acting like that.

He goes near Flickerman, the guy with the microphone and you were standing there beside him. Your arms crossed in front of your chest, your eyebrows raised in an unimpressed way. He only shrugged in response before giving his attention to the cameras.

He lets Lucy Gray sweet talk to the camera. She was polite and playful, playing into the hearts of the Capitol citizens with ease. Then the cameras turn to him, and before Flickerman asks him why he is in the cage. He isn't sure what to answer.

As if you could sense his panic, you immediately take the attention of him with your reply. “That's Coryo for you. Always making an impression. You should look forward to him. And his tribute,” your eyes turn to look at Lucy Gray, a hint of poisonous hate in your look that was hidden by the fake warmth of your smile.

“And you should be looking forward to my tribute too, Jessup Diggs.” You added as you stole the show with your sweet words. The broadcast ended with Flickerman praising you for your encouraging words despite the fact you and Snow were rivals.

He grits his teeth as he is dragged into a car by the peacekeepers. He supposed he was going to be taken to the Academy. He sat in the back seat, waiting for the car to start. He wished he would go there before lunch began, he hadn't breakfast. He couldn't have those damn cabbages again, he would rather tie the shower curtain around his neck.

The car door opens and you slip inside, sitting beside him. His breath hitches as he takes in the scent of your perfume. The heat of your body sweeps into his as your arm brushes against him. “You're crazy,” you said, not looking at him but the ruins of the Capitol outside the window. The car had started to drive back to the Academy.

“For getting a headstart,” he replied, “it's not crazy if it's smart.”

“Smart,” you mock, you turn to him, your face twisted in anger. You spit out, “It's not smart if you die, Snow! Those animals could have done anything to you! During the ride! During the cage! Do you think the cameras or the people would have stopped them? Fuck no and for what? A headstart!? It was stupid.”

Coriolanus blinks as he sees your childish tantrum. He was sure it was because he was going to be the talk of Panem, and not because you had genuine concern for him. He doesn't reply anything to you, despite feeling offended that you called him stupid.

He had been caught off guard, but he wasn't stupid. He furrows his eyebrows but keeps quiet. The silence was heated, and awkward. But it continues to persist, that's until his stomach growls, reminding him of his uneaten cabbage soup.

He felt his body flush in embarrassment. He begins to think of excuses to explain the loud growl but before he can even think of anything, a box is handed to him. You had taken something out of your bag and just set it on his lap along with a plastic spoon.

“It's not poisoned,” was the only thing you said, your eyes now back at the window.

“I sure hope so,” he replied, his voice controlled and his mind glad that you didn't glance at him to see his red face.

He opens up the box to see rice and orange chicken. He devours it as manner fully as he can. It took him a lot of self-control not to moan with each bite. It was that good. Perhaps his mind was subconsciously biased because it was by you. He didn't linger much on that thought.

But his touch did linger when he handed you back the box. He didn't thank you and you didn't ask for one. Neither of you said a word as your fingers laced together with his.

Neither of you said a word when your hand squeezed his, tightly. A warning not to act stupid again.

Neither of you needed to.

Both of you reached the Academy and Coriolanus stepped out of the car.

Time to face the consequences of his actions.

Next Chapter

Taglist : @tristanswildcat @alllriseabove @sushirolliee

@masimptoowth @ppcowboyprincess @lauravanderbooben20 @captainbabybear

@linkcommercial831 @write-from-the-heart

@kodzuvk @arzua10 @frill04 @cremebruleequeen @nan-nie @xreaderandreaderinserts @impeterporker @shoutingcardinal @coffee-tulips-books @Insomniac1345 @chaoticcoffeequeen @xyraphine

@blairfox04 @555saccharine @gisellesprettylies @livid-euphoria @fentyxmalik @buckysjuicyplums @cryinginanuncoolway @duckielikesgames @articxari @or-was-it-just-a-dream @serving-targaryen-realness @qardasngan @wendythedarling @mashathestarx @maybankswhore @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @bunny24sstuff

@lot4ever @diannana @abaker74 @ultrav10l3nce @jjstyles @reaganswiftie01 @freyaaah-writings @marauders-wife

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sporadicthingcollection · 7 months

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La faccia infarina (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which Buggy swears at a child, draws on his face, and experiences a revelation. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Semi-explicit. Word Count: ~1.4k. Warnings: Pregnancy mention, childbirth mention, a lot of swearing.

A/N: i'm ovulating so please enjoy an episode of what i like to call Reproducing With Men Who Should Not Be Trusted With Children.

Doing his makeup is much easier when there's no distractions to occupy him. Unfortunately, he's got a big one today and, for once, it isn't you trying to get into his pants.

Though that exact scenario is definitely what resulted in this new distraction. It was either that or the time after the party.

"Don't even think about it," Buggy says firmly.

Keeda grabs a drawer and tries to yank it open. A disembodied foot gently nudges him away. The boy stares at him in indignation, then blows a raspberry. He reaches again, whining when the foot still bars his way.

Buggy raises a brow at him. "Getting fresh, huh?" Another raspberry. "Floor privileges revoked."

He picks the boy up by the collar and plops him in his lap. He squeaks and squeals, trying to squirm away, but Buggy holds him tight.

"Y'know, I liked you better when you were a prop," he says. He swipes his lipstick along his cheeks. "You'd just lay there and make noises and shit yourself. None of this 'trying to kill yourself when I'm not looking' shtick."

Keeda resigns himself to his prison and is now pouting, making little huffs. He glances up with big, pleading eyes, lower lip quivering.

Buggy scoffs. "Don't try that pathos crap on me. I know what you look like when you're about to cry."

A long, low whine makes Buggy falter. Uh oh. He glances down.

Keeda lunges upwards, trying to grab the lipstick. Buggy pops his hand off just out of reach -- this is the expensive stuff. Can't have a baby eating it. Again.

"What's gotten into you today?" Keeda lunges again. Buggy pops his second hand off to cap the lipstick and stick it back in the drawer. "Sheesh, kid. Cool it."

"Bappo," Keeda says with a glare. Baby for pay attention to me, asshole, I'm right here.

A lightbulb goes off. He pulls a bag of pigment sticks from the drawer and dumps them onto the table. "You want your face done like Daddy's?" He spins the boy around to face the vanity. "Pick your war paint."

Keeda scans the selection and, with short chubby fingers, he selects a blue pigment stick. He then tries to shove it in his mouth, but Buggy grabs it before he can chomp it.

Buggy smiles as he regards the color. He was wearing this when he met you -- diamonds over his eyes as he tried to kill you. From hating his guts to fucking him stupid to bearing his child. How times change.

He takes the boy's cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. He can't believe he's still so damn small. A year in and he figured he'd be more... child-sized. Buggy's still afraid a strong breeze will shatter the kid like glass.

With gentle hands, he draws. Short strokes are best on soft, chubby skin with a lot of give. Keeda gazes at him all the while. He's got your eyes, warm and dark as charcoal.

Buggy licks his thumb and smooths out the edges. Keeda presses into his touch like a cat and gives him a smile, one that he can't help but return.

The idea of fatherhood terrified him. Horrified him. He thought about turning himself into the Marines right then and there. If his old captain couldn't do it, how could he be expected to do it? He's not half as competent as everyone seems to believe and you know he's a buffoon. Why would you want to have his kid?

Buggy finishes the diamonds and spins the boy to face the mirror. "Well?"

Keeda squints at himself. He touches his reflection. After a moment of contemplation, he speaks. "Fsshala."

He's been saying that a lot lately. You keep telling him that it's just nonsense babbling, but Buggy knows the truth.

"I agree," he says. "Let's make it flashy!"

He spins the boy back around, making him giggle. Truly the world's most remarkable sound.

He still doesn't have an answer for why you put yourself through nine months of pure terror. Was it your selfish desire for a family? Or did you see a truth hidden deep in his soul, so deep that he had no idea it existed until he held his son for the first time, still bright pink and howling?

Carefully, he traces two long lines up from the tips of the diamonds. He crosses them at the middle of his forehead, curls them into a heart, and adorns it with dots.

As is, Keeda looks more like you. Your dark hair, your dark eyes... and your nose, thank fucking god. He couldn't live with himself if his monstrosity was inheritable.

He was worried at first. How could he be sure that he's your son's father? He trusts you, but there was always that doubt gnawing at the back of his head until a few months in, when Keeda started getting expressive. In every giggle, in every glower, in every grin, there was Buggy the Clown.

Speaking of smiles, his mouth looks a little bare. A nice golden yellow would suit him.

Buggy picks up the pigment stick in one hand and smushes the boy's cheeks together with the other. "Pucker up, buttercup."

Keeda squirms a bit as he paints his mouth, swirling the corners up into cute little spirals. He licks his lips and sputters. "Pfeh!"

Buggy chuckles. "Weren't like that last week. You loved the stuff." He lifts the boy and spins him around to see his reflection. "Now you're lookin' more like your old man."

Keeda stares at himself. He tips his head one way, then the other. His eyes narrow and his brows furrow. He lets out a low, pensive whine.

Oh no. Does he not like it? Is he going to cry? Please don't cry. "Wait wait wait." He turns him around and lifts him to stand on his lap. "Don't get upset--"

A little spark flashes in the boy's eyes. The frown vanishes and he reaches up, tiny fingers grabbing for something.

Buggy's gotten enough hair ripped out to jerk away on impulse. "Something on my face?"

A tiny hand baps him on the nose. Buggy flinches. Fuckin' thing in the way again.

He angles his head, waiting for Keeda to tap what he was really aiming for. And again, he gets bapped right on the nose.

...no. There's no way.

Another bap, this time with an impatient glower. "Isso," Keeda says firmly. Baby talk for this.

Buggy's heart is in his throat as he picks up the red pigment stick. With shaky hands, he outlines the boy's nose -- a cute little button -- and draws a circle.

He swallows thickly. He clenches his jaw. He turns him around.

Keeda's eyes widen, then scrunch into crescents as he lets out a delighted squeal. "Papa!" he says, grinning up at Buggy. He flops backwards back into his lap, giggling and wiggling. "Papa!"

He's not sure how long he sits there at the vanity, listening to his baby chatter happily, but it must be awhile because you eventually come calling.

"Oh, there you guys are,” you say. "You chuckleheads having fun without me?"

"Amama!" Keeda stands in Buggy's lap and waves at you. He points at the mirror. "Issoooooo."

You appear at Buggy's shoulder, grinning brilliantly. "Aw, look at you," you croon. "Did Daddy do your makeup? Or did you get into his shit when he wasn't looking?"

Buggy's voice comes out in a tight croak. "I did it."

"Well, damn, it looks great! You never do my makeup that well--" Your gaze flickers to him in the mirror, and your smile vanishes. "...Are you crying?"

He sniffles. Loudly. "No."

You give him one of your do-you-need-a-psych-eval looks. "Bugs, your mascara's running."

Something hot and wet rolls down to his chin. "No, it's not."

You look at his reflection in the mirror, then back to him. "Either smile or cry. Doing both is freaking me out."

He wraps his arms around Keeda, pulling him close and squeezing him tight. "Fuckin' love you so much, you little shit," he murmurs into his hair.

Keeda squeals and giggles.

---

To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #kiss marry kill #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece live action #fan fiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #emberly writes #keeda the clown

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singmyaubade · 2 years

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we are sorry

warning : mentions of cursing

sypnosis: a prank gone wrong

poly!marauders x upset!y/n

you were deeply upset at your boyfriends, they were sincerely pissing you off. it all started with them talking to other girls, making them laugh even.

then it was the fact that they were forgetting your entire relationship with them, i mean you knew that sometimes they could tend to get busy or distracted but it was getting to you.

and your period was making it worse.

you weren't even smiling anymore.

your emotions were off the radar and you just couldn't deal with anything without getting aggravated and what made it worse was that your birthday was today.

they hadn't even said happy birthday or anything, not even a card or flowers.

you didn't even think they would attempt to do anything for it.

little did you know, they planned a grand birthday party that they knew you would love and ignoring you was just adding to how busy they were because of the planning.

but they knew that they couldn't ignore you forever so they decided to have a good old prank to make you laugh, just to add to your birthday.

they of course knew it would make you laugh because that stuff always did and you didn't mind them as long as they were justified and not cruel.

and they had everything planned out for severus snape as soon as he would walk into the classroom.

a bucket of yellow paint would fall with a bunch of feathers that was impossible to get out and then he would trip on some rope, humiliating him.

it was perfect.

snape was always late to class and everyone else stayed consistent so there was no chance of this prank going wrong.

they even knew that slughorn wouldn't notice anything because he liked the boys so much.

but it turns out, you were gonna be a little late to class. you had accidentally misplaced your button up and had only found it five minutes after class started.

the marauders were wondering where you were but they figured you weren't attending and they would check on you after class.

you were running to slughorns classroom in a panic, hoping he would let you off with a warning.

you noticed snape was behind you as you started running but you ran ahead of him, trying to get to class fast. your backpack was hanging on your arm as you didn't feel the need to re-adjust it.

as you were in front of the classroom you opened the door to step in but before you could even take at least three steps in, a bucket of yellow paint and feathers dropped on your hair and all over your clothes and shoes, even your backpack.

the marauders looked horrified as the entire class gasped including slughorn.

it was in your eyes and you could barely see anything but yellow as you stepped forward and tripped on the rope, completely on the floor.

"ms l/n!" slughorn yelled but not coming over to where you were but instead trying to calm down the class.

some slytherins in the class started laughing and even a few from other houses as you started crying.

your skirt was completely flopped up which showed your panties.

the marauders ran over to you as remus and james tried to helping you stand and sirius tried getting your backpack but you knew they were up to it, "get the fuck off of me!" you yelled at them as you left your backpack on the ground, trying to stand but slipping on the paint and landing on your knee.

you were in extreme pain but that didn't even matter in the slightest.

"y/n, we are so sorry." remus apologized as if he was on the brink of tears.

you were mortified but honestly just so upset that you couldn't breathe.

"please let us help you." james said, grabbing on your arm.

you snatched it away, "just please fuck off of my life." you snatched your hand back.

you were uncontrollably sobbing and you couldn't see a single thing as you stood up to run out of the classroom.

you ran to the nearest bathrooms and looked in the mirror to see your hair completely soaked with paint and it was very pigmented.

you had never felt so humiliated in your life.

paint was all over you and you couldn't even get it out with water or a paper towel.

you were silently crying, just trying to get it out of your hair but it wasn't coming out.

the marauders had no idea where you had ran and they had never felt so guilty in their life and they had no idea what to say to you.

this was extremely bad.

you didn't even come out of the bathroom.

you just sat on one of the toilets and cried your eyes out.

this was the worst day of your life.

and it certainly wasn't a birthday you would forget.

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eldritch-spouse · 4 months

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☀️💤💭 Daydream about your stuff while working on project and stuck on the thought of the Queens+Icons dealing with the gradual mutations from the infernal energy, like scratching to the point of blood from where a horn is forming, rubbing skin raw from where the pigment is changing, but mostly about Wrath Queen cutting their teeth on Kalymir. Just full on gnawing on his arm trying to ease the pain, I imagine he's completely unphased if not amused.

TW: Unsanitary grooming.

All of them are happy to finally start seeing these changes on you. While it may horrify you, all of the Icons are quick to point out that these natural reactions from exposure to their hellish energy (and Hell in general) will make it that much easier when they decide you need to release your humanity. Most of them are there to help you throught this.

Vesper will numb you to pain with pleasure, or maybe even incorporate the pain of your mutation into your sexuality, arousing you by telling you to revel in what your body will become.

Zizz forces you into slumber when pain and discomfort become too great to be ignored. In your dreams, he builds your body into different shapes, letting you explore possible versions of what you might become and whispering how beautiful you'll be.

Rinx is dying to see new parts of you, and he makes sure you have the most expensive of healing and soothing medicines. He's also likely to make you feel less strange about any new parts you sprout by instantly wanting to adorn them with something precious.

Cero is the one who actually takes better care of your changing body. As much as jealousy will chew his bones and he may even look livid doing so, the King will personally tend to your budding horns and tail so that they never become crooked or any agent halts their growth. Anyone who even so much as touches those developing appendages will be put to death, and he will tie your hands to keep you from scratching anything. Do you want marks, crevices and depressions?!

Kalymir has a burning urge to lick any blood you draw with your antics. He'll even help bite away scabs that are holding your new spikes and horns back. He's very excited to see you become more formidable and barely holds himself back from ripping your nails off so that your claws grow in faster. You may come out of this treatment with a scar or too. He can't wait to tug you around by the horns.

Vorticia like Kalymir, has a tendency to eat the parts of your body that are starting to come off. Loose skin around new horns? She's going to eat it. Flesh ripping apart while your new feet structure sets in? Snack. Scales bursting through your thighs? She'll suck the bothersome clots of useless tissues out, don't worry. To you it might be the grossest thing, but other gluttons just say it's very loving of her.

Livius' breath is caught in his throat as he watches you change. He wants so badly for your new horns to be like his, for your tail to sprout the same tip as his own! He wants you to be teal like him and have big hands, an angled face! Many of his features may carry over to you, but if the opposite were to happen, you might get to see him frantically trying to disfigure himself so he can look like you.

#Vesper oc #Zizz oc #Rinx oc #Vorticia oc #Kalymir oc #Cero oc #Livius oc

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thunderfrommyheart · 3 months

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breaking down the misinformation in @afronerdism post about me.

Debunked by Stuart Semple himself.

I’ve taken the time to do this because nobody wants mis-information bouncing around the internet.

The key thing to know - in the artworld rich people have access to processes and companies that most artists don’t. That’s how they get to create giant beans which cost $20million. At the top the rich get richer, and at the bottom artists struggle to make their mark with what they’ve got.

Vantablack is an example of a group of rich, entitled people getting together to pat themselves on the back, whilst the rest of the world watched horrified at the tone-deafness of the whole thing.

it's also worth noting whilst OP is clearly educated and understands politics they are not in any way an expert in the artworld, art discourse. I however have been in the artworld for 25 years, have written for the guardian, art of england and vogue. I have presented art programs for the BBC and have a properly published book on art history - it's out in June called 'Make Art or Die Trying'. I have studied art and art history and spoken at Oxford University, The ICA, Denver Art Msueum, Dublin Art Museum and at Frieze. I have lectured at the Royal College of Art in London. I have curated over 20 contemporary art exhibitions internationally, I have directed two galleries. I am by definition an expert.

MY BREAKDOWN: OP is @afronerdism - I've gone below them point by point

A: What Vantablack is not: a pigment. A paint. Vantablack is not something that you were supposed to use to paint with.

SS: CORRECT - However nor is glass, chrome, powder coating, sandblasting, booze casting, tar, concrete or steel yet they are used by artists everyday.

Whether the material/process is a paint or pigment or not doesn’t matter.

A: Who creates and distributes Vantablack: an engineering company named Surrey NanoSystems.

SS: True. And many artists work with engineering companies every day, notable examples are Jeff Koons and Damien Hirst. Lots of artists collaborate with industry to get their work made, that is what fabrication is. You go to Surrey NanoSystems - not to buy paint but for them to coat your work in Vantablack.

A: Who does not do those things: an art house. A distribution company. Any kind of company that creates and distributes pigments on a massive, artistic scale.

SS: Which is totally true and fine. However they do coat things in Vantablack for a series of clients in many different industries including fashion designers, jewelers, brands, car companies, and watch companies. They will coat anything for anyone who has the money unless they are an artist. They only accept work from Anish Kapoor as he has an exclusive license with them for art.

A: Who was Vantablack made for: Vanta Black was made by aerospace engineers for aerospace engineers, looking for something to coat the insides of massive NASA telescopes.

SS: Initially, but quickly was used by a lot of other industries including architects, fashion designers, bands, brands, car companies and even a deodorant.

They are able to make it in quantities large enough to coat whole buildings as we saw when architect Asif Khan used it to coat a whole pavilion during the Pyeongchang Winter Olympic Games.

(If had told Surrey nanoSytems he was an artist - not an architect, this would never have happened)

A: Who it was not made for: artists.

SS: Except the one with the license. (Anish Kapoor)

———————————-——————————————

A: Hopefully already just by understanding what Vantablack is, what it was made for, and who it’s made by you and other people are beginning to see what the problem is with Stuart simples narrative around Vanta black.

SS: It’s Semple not simple.

SS: The narrative was not created by Semple as for a few months before he shared his pink the world media was criticizing Kapoor for his Monopoly with major articles in the Guardian, Daily Mail, and BBC news. Each featured reactions from a broad spectrum of artists who spoke about the unnecessary license and the elitism in the artworld.

A: But you may be wondering if Vanta black is a highly toxic unstable substance made out of carbon nano tubes by aerospace engineers for aerospace engineers, working in space, then how did we get here? well, Vanta, black 2.0, if you will was created in such a way that it could be sprayed onto substances in a certain way meaning that theoretically it could be used artistically.

SS: Yes VBX2 can be sprayed, and Surrey Nanosystems have training days where they teach in-house teams how to do that. The VBX2, however, arrived quite late in the story and Kapoor’s rights started with the first version.

A: Surround nanosystems held an exhibition where they displayed Vanta black and when artist saw this, they were inundated with calls from artist, wanting to use it in their work.

SS:

Surrey nano systems (not surround)

They actually debut it at an airshow in England, it was all over the world media, many artists saw it. They then went on a massive PR mission and the material was seen on CNN etc.

Kapoor became aware of it and approached them to see if he could use it in his work.

Together they struck up an exclusive deal which would mean if any artist asked them to coat a piece of work with the stuff they would be turned away.

That deal was something Surrey and Kapoor were initially proud of. They couldn’t see the inherent elitism in the exclusivity so they went on another PR pr to tell he world Kapoor was signed up to use it.

It was then the artists of the world really became aware of it, and sure enough, when any of them wrote to Surrey - even really huge ones with plenty of money, they were turned away. These artists including Christian Furr and Ron Arad, amongst others were all featured across the media. =

A: But as we’ve already established surrey nanosystems is not a distribution company. They’re an engineering company. And they made the decision that they could only work with one artist, because they simply did not have the physical ability to produce Vantablack at a scale that allowed them to work with more than one person.

SS: They did say that, but a lot later. They were always a fabrication / engineering place and there was never an idea that they would distribute the material. That’s not the problem any artists ever had with it, they all fully understood what the material was. The issue was that even if the artist had the money and could ship their work to Surrey, they would not coat the object with it, but they would serve other industries. This is seen as deeply prejudicial towards artists.

A: (To this day, vanta Black has to be distributed by a specialized robotic arm that creates it in painfully small amounts in an enclosed box that can then be given to someone in a lab. )

SS: This is untrue - the arm is used to spray the objects that Surrey have agreed to coat.

It does not make the material. The material is made by growing carbon nano tubes on a surface.

And the spray version contains nano particles. The robot arm is used for precision when coating.

You often see a robot arm spray cars for example. The arm is used like this.

A: Enter Anish Kapoor: Anish Kapoor, at this time was already a world, renowned artist, and the creator of many public facing pieces, such as cloud gate, a.k.a. the Chicago Bean. His entire life‘s work was dedicated to how light is refracted and interplays with the void, making him not only the perfect person to be chosen because of prestige but also because his life‘s work spoke to the engineers who created Vanta black.

SS: Whist as an artist he has dealt with reflection and the void at length, it’s a stretch to claim his entire life’s work is dedicated to it.

SS: It is true that as a figurehead for Vantablack he is a good choice, he’s very rich, extremely famous, he’s a Sir (i.e knighted by the queen and a turner prize winner). Plus he makes work that would look good in Vantablack.

SS: None of this means that he needed exclusivity to do it, the company could simply have collaborated with him and if any other artist asked to have something coated, they could have easily said they were too busy or didn’t have enough of the material.

SS: The issue is the way they couldn’t see the prejudice, elitism and lack of access in the exclusivity.

A: Now this should’ve been seen as an incredible accomplishment and honor for this Indian artist to be chosen as the soul licensor of Vantablack as this company was only able to choose one person and people were really excited about this for him and that’s where the story ends, right? Right? Right?

SS: It’s unclear why his race matters. He is one of the richest, most well known, most famous artists in the world. The fact he has exclusive access to a material/process like this is not a reason for people to be excited for him, people are free to be excited or not. This is purely your opinion not a fact.

A: Enter Stuart Semple: Stuart simple was a 25-year-old man in the UK living with his mother when she came into his room and told him about Vantablack.

SS: Stuart was born in 1980, which would make him 36 at the time.

SS: He was not living with his mother, in fact he was living in London with his own family.

SS: His mother did not come into his room however on a phone call she spoke to him about an article she had read in the guardian about how artists were upset by Kapoor having Vantablack.

SS: Stuart was (and is) a well-known contemporary artist, very embedded int hat world. He has had over 20 solo exhibitions dedicated to his work all over the world and his pieces are in major collections and museums. He’s not in the league of Kapoor but in the artworld is well known as an artist.

A: As an artist himself, Stewart simple wanted to try Vanta Black, and was told by the company that he could not.

SS: This is untrue - Stuart did not want to use the colour, nor did he approach the company.

A: It was then that he discovered the only person on earth licensed to use Vantablack was Anish Kapoor.

SS: This is untrue, he was aware of this when his mother told him what she had read in the newspaper.

A: Please keep in mind that Vantablack is not a paint, and it is so difficult to work with that Anish Kapoor has only ever produced one singular piece of art with Vantablack.

SS: This is untrue. Tens of thousands of items have now been coated in VantaBlack, from soda cans to watches. Initially, Kapoor used his rights to create a series of limited edition wrist watches that sold for $100,000 each, and then went on to create a whole series of large sculptures that were initially shown at a huge palazzo in Venice that Kapoor bought, during the Venice Biennale, and then at an exhibition at the Lisson in NYC where there works were for sale with an average price of $500,000USD.

A: So like a child who has just been told by their mom that they can’t use something, Stewart simple decided to throw a hissy fit.

SS: It’s Stuart Semple (not stewart simple) - and there is no evidence of any kind of Hissy Fit. However he did create a piece of internet performance art, where he put a jar of pinkest pink paint on the internet, humorously, and asked anyone who bought the paint to sign an agreement that they ‘weren’t Anish Kapoor and Associate of Kapoor and that to the best of their knowledge information and belief, the material would not make its way into the hands of Anish Kapoor’. Semple has always explained it was a tongue-in-cheek piece of performance art, and that he was never expecting anyone would actually buy any pink. The best source for this is an article in Wired in which the journalist concludes with the piece being a powerful piece of online performance art. Bearing in mind Semple is an artist who works with performance, that is extremely likely.

A: He created a pink pigment that he conditionally said everyone could use except Anish Kapoor and then launch this pigment with the hashtag #ShareTheBlack.

SS: He created the pink pigment in 2010 - and has made his own paints to use in his own work since he was a child. It was not made in response to Kapoor. However he did not make them public they were for his own use, and the Kapoor situation made him question his own exclusivity in keeping the materials he was making for himself. He decided to share his pink as a gesture and a piece of art in it's own right.

A: This caught the attention of the news media, and when asked about this situation, that was previously relatively unheard of, Stuart simple,

SS: Neither Stuart nor the Vantablack situation were unheard of. The media was already reporting on the controversy around vantablack long before Stuart put the pink up. Stuart was also well known which is why the media wanted to talk to him about it.

When GQ came to do a 5 page feature on him they were clear it was because he was an established and well-known artist in his own right.

He had already been hosting art shows for the BBC, had written for the guardian and Huffington post and had collaborated with major musicians.

A: went onto describe Anish Kapoor as this tyrannical elitist who “banned“ the use of Vantablack to keep other artists from using it.

SS: There’s no evidence that Semple said that, however, he was critical of the exclusive license and did feel the story opened up a well-needed discussion about access to art and the trend in which those with the money could afford to have works fabricated when others couldn’t. He is at heart an egalitarian and has made free art studios, his Designs for humanity charity, his creative therapies fund at Mind (a mental health charity) etc.. and a major free art gallery in his hometown that shows some of the biggest living artists. So Semple’s opinion is allowed, to him Kapoor epitomizes an elitism that is dominated by the super-rich, after all, Kapoor is getting close to being a billionaire.

A: But hopefully you can already see how that is Literally not true. Anish Kapoor does not make Vanta black. Anish Kapoor cannot sell Vanta black. Anish Kapoor cannot give you permission to use Vanta black. And Vanta black is not even a paint.

SS: He does not make it, but he does hold the exclusive right to use it in art.

SS: No other material or process has been exclusively licensed by one artist in the history of the world.

SS: Jeff Koons does not make his own giant steel sculptures, a factory does. Jeff can’t book your work into the factory, and steel is not a paint either. He doesn't have an exclusive agreement with the steel fabricators. If they aren't too busy with Jeff, and you've got the cash, they'll make something for you too. This is standard with art fabrication.

SS: I didn't physically make the giant steel and foam smiley sculpture of mine for the city of Denver, fabricators helped with that, and engineers. They work with several artists.

SS: This makes no sense given it is understood vantablack is a material and a process of application.

SS: However Kapoor could surrender his exclusive right and Surrey would then be able to take bookings from artists.

A: meanwhile Stuart has launched an entire very lucrative career around slandering and smearing Anish Kapoor

SS: Untrue, Semple had a very successful career and his day job is as a contemporary artist. Actually speaking up about elitism in the artworld is a risky move for someone who relies on that artworld to pay his bills.

A: when Anish Kapoor literally never did anything but be qualified enough to be the one person chosen by a company that is literally only able to work with one person at a time.

SS: He did do something, he signed an exclusive agreement and he felt he was entirely justified in doing so. He also went out in the media and with surrey nono systems and gloated about it.

SS: They can’t only work with one person at a time, we have seen whole buildings covered in vantback, jewellery, cars and soda cans and many sculptures by Kapoor. Surrey have collaborated with thousands of brands, designers, architects and companies.

A: The fact remains Stewart simple, very intentionally allows this narrative to continue because it makes him money.

SS: It is unclear how it makes him money as the pink was sold for $3 which was what it cost to make, and his website which researches and distributes cutting edge materials is a non profit that collaborates with artists. They even did a crowd funder to make Black 3.0 - a super black acrylic that any artist can use. It's also unclear how he is perpetuating this narrative, when he's clearly moved on to other projects many years ago and rarely mentions it. In Semple's world it's a very small thing.

A: He has made a ton of money off of slandering Anish Kapoor as if Anish Kapoor is the reason he can’t use Vanta black when the reason he can’t use Vanta black is because no one can use Vanta black, and the only person who might be able to use it is Anish Kapoor and that is not Anish Kapoor‘s fault.

SS: There’s no evidence at all that he’s slandered Kapoor. Kapoor being extremely wealthy, and the level of media that covered the story back in 2016 would never have allowed it. It would have been a legal nightmare. All the publications who write about the story GQ, BBC, The Guardian, Wired, have journalistic laws and it would not have happened.

SS: There’s no evidence that Semple has made a ton of money.

A: It is not lost on me that there are racial connotations to the story as well. There are actual companies and artists in the world who have trademarks around certain colors that they do not allow other people to use in public showcases.

SS: There are colour marks or if you like 'trademarked colours'. The public showcases point doesn't make sense in this context - colours are protected in classes i.e certain uses on Serbian products are prohibited. EG - Tiffany blue cannot be used on jewellery boxes.

A: But we really as a community allowed this white man to smear and slander an Indian artist,

SS: Again it’s unclear what the ethnicity of the artists has to do with the core issue.

SS: It’s a little bit of a leap given Semple has also liberated Klein Blue (made by a white French man), Barbie Pink (owned by Mattel a corporation), and created the Brightest White.

A: based entirely off of misinformation, and to this day people jump on the Internet, saying fuck Anish Kapoor because of it.

SS: Kapoor secured the rights to the blackest material ever made. Everyone else who can afford to, can use it, unless they identify as an artist.

SS: Many people feel like that is wrong.

A: Now, Anish Kapoor is not some struggling person. He is probably a multibajillionaire

SS: He’s worth about 800 million according to Forbes, he’s within the top 5 most wealthy living artists.

A: And doesn’t necessarily need our sympathy. But I think the story of Vantablack is a really good case study of how misinformation spreads, and how people never bother to question the framework of a story.

SS: In my opinion, your post is misinformation, that has been spread unquestioningly.

#stuartsemple #anish kapoor #stuart semple

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harmonysanreads · 4 months

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It is 2am in the morning where I'm at, and ideas for Corrupted!Alhaitham and darling just won't stop coming into my head. I haven't had this sort of massive brainrot in a while.

So have this stewed (and possibly half baked one), where Darling still isn't comfortable with Corrupted!Alhaitham's antics. And Corrupted!Alhaitham takes things into his own hands, much to Darling's dismay and horror.

Darling knows something's off, but can't quite put their finger on it until they see the consistent red on the Akasha Terminals he uses, and his eyes. Darling wasn't particularly comfortable with Alhaitham's green pupils, but at least they reminded them of the outside. But Darling is even less comfortable looking at Corrupted!Alhaitham now with those wild and pure ruby red eyes, akin to looking into the eyes of a demon.

But this demon, of a person, is a demon onsessed with Darling.

Once Corrupted!Alhaitham catches wind that Darling's figured out the truth, there's no need to pretend anymore. With Darling's repeated advances, a carnal and blunt solution seems to occur to him. Perhaps, he would get along better with a Corrupted!Darling. A malleable one he could control and manipulate to his heart's content without any averse consequences (to him, of course. I can't say the same for Darling.)

And thus begins Corrupted!Alhaitham series of experimentation to corrupt his Darling. Ranging from utilizing techniques in forbidden texts and rituals, to dodgy knowledge capsules.

Little by little, each agonizing experiment chips away at Darling's mental fortitude.

But under Corrupted!Alhaitham's relentless experiments, Darling ends up slowly becoming corrupted as well. First, it starts slowly. Unexplained gaps start to form in Darling's memory. Darling finds themselves quicker to react to their base impulses. It's harder for them to think rationally.

One day, it starts to click for Darling. They start understanding Corrupted!Alhaitham's actions. They're horrified and conflicted. Their rational brain continues to fight and is angry and appalled, by Corrupted!Alhaitham actions. But the corrpution in their brain and all the noise Corrupted!Alhaitham has thrown into their brain via information and knowledge capsules start to overtake their rationality - to the point where Darling starts to come around on Corrupted!Alhaitham.

Darling's thoughts turn as the Corruption grows. Once Corrupted!Alhaitham realizes the Corruption has taken root and is growing in them, that's when he puts the rest of his plan into action. He puts on a facade for Darling, in their slowly corrupted state, to see him as a safe place. That he's someone Darling can go to for help regarding what their going through. He is the only one who understands Darling as their rationality slips further and further away.

And then in the end, Corrupted!Darling is just that. Corrupted. Their personality warped and twisted into a facsimilie of who they used to be. Someone who acts more on instinct then rationality, with a more flexibly ethical outlook. Someone who trusts Corrupted!Alhaitham with their life and will willingly join him in his plans. Someone who completely and utterly loves him, to the point where he no longer needs to throw on a facade anymore.

Darling is completely and utterly his. Both their mind, body, and soul.

And Corrupted!Alhaitham wouldn't have it any other way.

oh... oh my.

Red is a lovely colour, ‘Alhaitham’ thinks.

Red is the colour of passion and love. Dyed in the silks of the brides of Sumeru, on the scarfs of the persevering eremites.

Red coats the skin of ripe sunsettias and zaytun peaches. It is the colour of the flames upon which steaming pots of curry sits, the pigment that smears the knife should your mind drift away in musings and he can reprimand you playfully.

On occasions does it peak from the wicks of scented candles, the hue of the petals you scatter across ivory sheets. The shade that dusts your skin when his hands wander, purposefully. Red is the colour of heat, he realizes when he feels you ears warm up in response to the lies he whispers, sickeningly sweet.

Red is the pigment that reflects from the surfaces of priceless rubies, tightened around the neck, wrists and ears of an equally priceless you. Red is in the frills of the collar that digs in your skin, which, if he should generously tug you'll voice no complaint to. Red are the ribbons that bound you to your place, coated around the chains emitting metallic stench, ones which you will no longer struggle against.

Red is scattered around the penitentiary of your life, drenching the path he treaded to reach this bliss. Red is the colour of his eyes and your eyes, bearing a love unchained by worldly schemes.

#anon writing #chit chat ; corrupted alhaitham #i'm not a poet but—#yandere #yandere alhaitham #corrupted alhaitham #yandere alhaitham x reader #yandere al haitham x reader #yandere al haitham #corrupted alhaitham x reader #corrupted al haitham #yandere genshin impact #yandere drabble

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keanuquotes · 1 year

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The Enduring Appeal of Keanu Reeves He battles evildoers in 'John Wick 4,' manufactures two-wheel pieces of art, and is worshiped by the internet, but Keanu Reeves swears he's just a normal guy. And he’s got the scars to prove it. Ky HendersonMar 15, 2023 9:00 AM EDT It’s easy to look cool when you’re riding a motorcycle, but it’s hard to look cooler than Keanu Reeves on a brisk, sunny afternoon in Los Angeles. He rests his left hand on his thigh and steers with his right, which gooses the throttle as he weaves around slow drivers. He wears a form-fitting black canvas motorcycle jacket that accentuates how trim he is—even more fit than he appears on-screen—and a beat-up Shoei helmet. He leaves the visor up, choosing instead to shield his eyes with sunglasses the Terminator might wear to a Hamptons garden party. Reeves looks at home and at ease on a motorcycle. He looks cool.

At a gas station stop, he suggests switching bikes. We’re each riding cruisers made by Arch, the motorcycle company Reeves co-founded with designer Gard Hollinger in 2011. The company produces high-end, highly personalized production bikes; I’m on a 1s, the company’s new $100,000+ sport cruiser. Reeves is on an older model, KRGT-1, but it’s his personal Arch, a true one-of-a-kind. It's the only Arch ever painted YK Blue, a color Reeves and Hollinger commissioned based on the ultramarine pigment famously mixed by mid-century French artist Yves Klein. Reeves says all that’s left of the paint is in a tiny can stored somewhere at Arch in case the bike’s paint ever needs touch-ups.

Which it most certainly would if, let’s say, some idiot were to put the bike down in front of a horrified Reeves while riding down the Pacific Coast Highway. Thankfully, there’ll be no lowsides today. Although the bike is beefy, with a 2,032cc V-twin powerplant, it’s easy to maneuver and comfy as a BarcaLounger.

Keanu Reeves stands in motorcycle factory holding blue mug Brian Bowen Smith

Reeves eventually leads us back to Arch’s factory building, which is nondescript from the outside but artfully decorated inside using shipping containers to separate working areas. Metal fabrication is done behind one; customer bikes are lined up in another with technicians hard at work. After Reeves dips outside for a cigarette—the 58-year-old both looks like a much younger man and smokes with the frequent abandon of one—he leads us to a small conference room.

“I like meeting people, but I’m a little reserved,” he warns as he settles into an office chair, looking far less comfortable than he did on a motorcycle. “How much of my private life do I want to talk about? I don’t know. Otherwise, let’s hang out.”

When Reeves was growing up in the Yorkville neighborhood of Toronto, he was consumed with existential thoughts. He discussed death a lot more than the average 11-year-old, for instance—but not because he wanted to die. He just wanted answers to big questions. Perhaps not entirely unrelated to his interest in mortality, he was also obsessed with the biker gangs that periodically motored into the neighborhood. It wasn't pods of dentists letting loose on weekends. It was leathers, patches, menace—the whole deal. And Reeves loved it.

“They looked exotic,” Reeves says. "They looked to me like they were free. Plus the bikes were cool and sounded great.”

Despite his childhood fascination, Reeves was in his early 20s before he first rode a motorcycle. It happened at a movie studio in Berlin—where else?—when he saw a woman on an off-road enduro bike in a parking lot. He approached her and asked if she’d teach him to ride, which she agreed to on the spot. (If you’re wondering why a woman would do that for a total stranger, search “Keanu Reeves in the 80s” in Google Images.)

Not long after he got back to Los Angeles, he bought a 1973 Mk2a Norton Commando, having long admired the classic brand. That bike currently sits in the Arch shop, which is notable for two reasons: One, few longtime riders are lucky enough to be able to hold onto their first bike. Two, over the years Reeves has…suffered some mishaps.

“Yeah, I’ve fallen off a few times,” he admits of the accidents he’s had on a variety of bikes. He takes a swig of water, then corrects himself. “Not ‘fallen off.’ Crashed. I’ve got a couple of hit-by-cars. A couple of going-too-fast. I’ve laid a couple of bikes down but I was riding in the winter, so that’s not really ‘crashing.’ That’s about it. The usual stuff.”

He’s broken ribs, knocked out teeth, sliced his leg open so deep that bone was visible. His most spectacular accident occurred in 1988, only a couple years after that day in Berlin. Reeves was riding alone at night in Malibu’s Topanga Canyon when he took one of the twisties too fast. By the time he came to a stop, he was lying on the pavement wondering if he was about to die. As you know, he didn’t—but he did fuck himself up pretty bad.

“I ruptured my spleen,” he says matter-of-factly. The widely reported version of the story goes that he needed the organ removed, but Reeves says it’s still intact. “They sutured it up and put a Band-Aid on.” He has a gnarly scar running vertically from his sternum down to his belly button, but in the right light it just ends up accentuating his abs because, well, he’s Keanu.

Reeves first met Hollinger through a mutual acquaintance about two decades after that crash, when Reeves wanted a custom sissy bar—basically, a backrest for a passenger—added to his 2005 Harley Davidson Dyna. Hollinger, who at that point was a relatively well-known, well-respected customizer with his own small LA shop, wasn’t interested.

“I knew I could build him the world’s most expensive sissy bar,” Hollinger says, “but I also knew it wouldn’t be satisfying for either of us.”

Instead, Hollinger spent the next five years completely reimagining the bike. He’d work in spurts, changing or adding something, then handing the bike back over to Reeves for months. By the time the bike was finished, Hollinger says, about the only parts of the original Dyna still remaining were the engine and the serial number on the chassis. Today that bike—a chromed-out ride fit for Mad Max—is displayed in the shop, the inspiration for what eventually became Arch.

Keanu Reeves on motorcycle wearing black canvas jacket and sunglasses Brian Bowen Smith

Eventually being the key word. When, during the long process of modding the bike, Reeves first suggested to Hollinger that the two team up to start a motorcycle company, Hollinger didn’t have to think about his answer.

“I knew what a tough business it is, what a challenge it would be—and that it would not be a great investment,” Hollinger, now 63, says with a laugh. “It was a wonderful motorcycle I built and it was wonderful getting to know Keanu, but starting a motorcycle company sounded like a horrible idea.”

Reeves didn’t relent. As the pair became better friends—and as the motorcycle continued to take shape—they’d have long conversations about the realities of starting the company. Hollinger would show up to their discussions with pages of questions written on a legal pad, but what gradually eroded his hesitation was the thoughtfulness with which Reeves described the experience of riding a motorcycle.

Finally, nearly convinced, Hollinger asked Reeves to boil everything down to one reason why they should do something as seemingly crazy as starting a motorcycle company. The actor came up with it on the spot—a reason Hollinger immediately understood, which allowed him to envision the company and its worth as an opportunity to do something meaningful and long-lasting.

“Because,” Reeves told him, channeling the mortality-obsessed 11-year-old kid gawking at dudes on motorcycles, “we’re going to die.”

Related: 2023 Arch 1s Sport Cruiser Is the American (V-twin) Dream

There have been many jokes made over the years about Reeves being a dummy, but after spending about 8 seconds with the guy it’s obvious he’s keenly intelligent. I mention that I read lots of sci-fi and fantasy books as a kid, which prompts him to ask whether I have opinions on several titles, followed by recommendations to read several others.

Thing is, his idiosyncratic public persona—which is sort of like Ted (not Bill) if Ted were a little more shy and a much better dresser—isn’t an act. Reeves isn’t trying to fool his critics or fans. And he isn’t really putting on an act in an attempt to prevent people from knowing who he is. He’s just this very singular, introspective, likable person who happened to become a pop culture icon.

All of that said? He can be pretty goofy. His physical mannerisms are sometimes at odds with what he’s saying, like he’s being controlled by feuding puppeteers. He speaks haltingly, stopping and starting and stopping again, often all in the same sentence, as he considers what exactly he wants to say or, just as likely, what he doesn’t want to say. More than once over the course of an afternoon he giggles—yes, giggles—at something he says or thinks, placing his cupped hand over his mouth like a theatrical school child hiding laughter; the gesture is as strange as it is endearing. He's somehow both laconic and verbose, calm and keyed up.

Although Reeves has long been known as “The internet’s boyfriend,” he’s currently dating—sorry, internet—acclaimed visual artist Alexandra Grant. The pair first collaborated on the 2011 book Ode to Happiness after having known each other previously; in the following years they collaborated on other projects and co-founded the small book imprint X Artists’ Books. Their romantic relationship began about five years ago but only became public knowledge two years in, when they arrived at a red carpet event together.

When asked about Grant, Reeves leans back in his chair as though trying to put both metaphorical and literal distance between himself and the idea of discussing his personal life.

So, uh, maybe it’s best to make it about bikes: What’s Grant’s opinion of Reeves’ (occasionally injurious) motorcycle fixation?

“She used to have a motorcycle, so she’s fine with it,” Reeves says. Then he pauses, as he so often does, seemingly considering whether to say anything more. “She hasn’t ridden in a while.”

Despite his lifelong love of bikes, Reeves hasn’t ridden them much in his movies. There’s a brief scene in the landmark 1991 indie film My Own Private Idaho. There’s some riding in 1996’s Chain Reaction, including one scene in which he manages to outrun an exploding hydrogen reactor. He’s technically on a bike in John Wick 3 while battling bad guys, but that was all done while stationary in front of a green screen. He has no interest in shoehorning Arches into his movies, though a couple of Arches are featured in the futuristic 2020 video game Cyberpunk 2077, in which he also played a major role.

Reeves says there’s a brief motorcycle scene in the upcoming John Wick 4, a movie whose eventual existence might have been laughed at when the original film debuted. Despite the series’ current status as an unstoppable franchise juggernaut, it originally wasn’t even planned as a franchise—and it certainly didn’t appear destined to be one after John Wick received a somewhat tepid theatrical reception in 2014.

“It had some success in the theater, but it really became more popular in second viewings,” Reeves says. “So the studio asked if we wanted to do another one.”

Reeves does more than just kick unbelievable amounts of ass in the movies; he’s also had a hand in plotting out the sequels. The genesis of the third and fourth installments, he says, took place while he and director Chad Stahelski were on the road promoting the second and third movies, respectively.

“Generally, Chad and I cook ’em up while we’re doing press tours,” Reeves says. “We talk about what we’d do next if the current film does well. I’m like, ‘I want to ride a horse and do a horse chase!’ And Chad says, ‘Yeah, we can do it in Central Park!’”

Reeves says he doesn’t know what comes next for him, but John Wick 5 will almost certainly be an option—if he wants to do it. He’s currently developing a TV series, and maybe he’ll make the motorcycle road movie he’s long thought about making. He’ll also no doubt continue riding bikes and growing Arch because he loves doing both.

He says he may continue BRZRKR, the comic series he co-writes. He won’t stop helping others via his philanthropy (he declines to discuss other than to say it’s “in health and the arts”). And he’ll burnish his already-glowing reputation as, in his words, “a pretty respectful and considerate person,” because that’s how he likes to treat people.

“I’m just,” Reeves says as his mouth curls into a smirk and his arms shoot out in front of him as though he’s pleading to be believed, “a normal guy.”

via keanuworld

#keanu reeves #arch motorcycle #motorcycles

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skellymom · 30 days

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"Vagabonds" Chapter 12

Ongoing fanfic Hunter x Reader/Fem Reader/OC

(Pinterest credit: Maulia)

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

To read Chapter 11:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/744912201871245312/vagabonds-chapter-11?source=share

Word Count: 1.3K

Background: Flashback sequence: Love is born. Who was her father? Hunter having relationship regrets, dark and broody angst. He's got a very small part at the end of this chapter. But I PROMISE to have much more Hunter content in Chapter 13! To help with any confusion: Mad's Clone trans sister (non bio) is named "SHE" (mentioned in Chapter #9 "In The Beginning") and her name is capitalized to prevent any confusion of what character is being spoken of.

Warning: Swearing, fear, physical pain, fainting, blood, breast milk, natural childbirth,Star Wars Canon violence, discussion of Love's genderfluidity.

(Credit: Cool moving star dividers by @4ngelic-wh1spers )

Recap:

Several Night Sisters understood and respected Mad’s choice. And, disagreed with Mother Talzin’s methods. They helped plot secretly to assist with the intervention...some planning to leave with the Nomaadi as well.

...because Mad knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Mother Talzin was only playing at being accommodating. Mad could see the omen of celestial bodies in the sky above her. A baby born under these conditions signaled to Mother Talzin this child would have some sort of significance. She would keep the baby and NEVER let Mad’s child leave this planet.

And she would NEVER let Mad leave alive, either.

"Love's Arrival"

Mad sweating, bore down and pushed.

The baby slid out covered in a caul...silent and unmoving.

A Nightsister handed the baby to Mother Talzin.

“My child...are THEY alive?”

Mother Talzin ignored Mad’s pleas, removing the caul from the baby’s head, dropping it to the ground matter-of-factly. She passively scrutinized the new life in her hands.

“Answer me PLEASE! Are they ALIVE???” Mad was frantic, struggling to hold her composure.

One sister tied the umbilical cord, then Mother Talzin cut it with a sharpened Kyber crystal kife...glowing red.

“Your female child is alive and breathing.” Mother didn’t even bother to look at Mad. “But uncharacteristically quiet for a newborn. She hasn’t even opened her eyes yet.” Mother Talzin traced the vaguely heart shaped red pigmentation around the baby’s eye.

“THEY!” Mad spit out. “The baby is FLUID!!!”

“Oh...and WHO told you THAT?” Mother condescended.

Mad had enough of this woman’s shit. “MY child...in the WOMB! We have a BOND.”

She struggled to sit up, grabbing hold of Mother Talzin’s skirts and yanked HARD.

“GIVE ME MY CHILD!!!” Mad growled gutturally through her teeth.

Mother Talzin’s head snapped around angrily “I am standing in as proxy for MY SON. The child will stay with me until my son is ready for HIS PADAWAN.”

“Maul can kiss my ass! He doesn’t care about HIS child!!!” Mad shot back.

“We shall see when THEY fully manifest their Force powers.”

“At least you FINALLY got the pronouns right this time...BITCH!”

Mother Talzin yanked her skirts out of Mad’s grasp disgustedly. The Nightsisters around her eyed each other nervously. Then one gasped loudly and pointed towards the baby. Mother turned her attention back to the newborn.

The baby’s bright amber eyes bore a hole through Mother Talzin. She could feel it probing her consciousness. Attempting to communicate. No words, of course but...images, feelings, something deeper...

The Vardo and Beldame streaked past the group at low altitude. The ships engaged their sound alarm systems, imitating angry beasts screaming above the people below. Their attempt to intimidate and catch the Nightsisters off guard. Many of them scattered for cover. Several stayed put with Mad.

Mother Talzin stood tall still staring with interest at the baby. The baby stared unflinchingly back at Mother Talzin. The horrifying sound from the approaching ships did not affect either of them.

The ships returned for another pass, flying even lower. Then again, and again...purposely toying with their newfound enemies.

When they had enough of the Nightsisters dispersed for cover, the Vardo quickly landed and dropped a group of Nomaadi mercenaries. Men and women clad in mismatched armor, their helmets in the shapes of angry snarling predatory biomechanical animals, fitted for night and thermal vision. Large blaster weapons trained upon Mother Talzin and in cover formation to ward off rear attack.

The Beldame continued to pass over the sky above them, shrieking like an angry beast. Then circling like a hungry shark. The ship’s weapons ready to blast ANYONE who dared come out from cover to intervene.

Mother Talzin and baby kept each other’s gaze.

The Nightsisters who planned to defect from Dathomir helped Mad up from the ground.

“Give me my child. I won’t ask again!”

Mother Talzin calmly reached into the pocket of her skirts. The Nomaadi braced themselves. Several engaged their weapons from stun to kill.

She pulled out something hidden in her hand, shook it, then tossed the contents at her feet. The Nomaadi Merc in front of her flinched, expecting an explosion or witch magic...

...several small, polished animal bones hit the ground, rolled, and laid to rest just short of his boots.

Mother Talzin regarded them silently. “You may have your child. But there is a cost...”

“It would have cost to let you KEEP my child! Don’t act like you’re doing do ME a favor.” The GALL of this woman.

“YOU will never know peace. If I or my son do not acquire your child, another entity shall.”

“WHO???”

“I cannot name it. SOMETHING that will gain power over everything in this galaxy. Something dark looming over the horizon of our days. It’s coming...and NO ONE can stop it.” With that she kissed the baby on the forehead and let them go.

Mad winced, as she expected her child to drop to the ground once they left Mother Talzin’s hands.

As the Night Witch stepped away, the baby hung in midair...levitating in place. Their eyes changing from bright amber to deep yellow green. Closer to the color of their mother’s.

Mad, with assistance from three Nightsisters, limped to her child and took the baby in her arms.

The Mercs kept position with their front man training his blaster on Mother Talzin as she wandered away into the Dathomirian night.

The Beldame swooped down, hovering 3 feet above the ground, gangplank opened to receive its crew. Mad and the Nightsisters quickly boarded.

The Merc crew of the Vardo, seeing the extraction successfull let their guard down. They didn’t come planning to kill ANYONE, unless extremely necessary. The fear Nomaadi had of the Dathomir Witches proved correct, unfortunately. The fear of their REVENGE.

No sooner had the Witches gotten Mad and her baby aboard then a fire fight broke out between the Nightsisters and Nomaadi Mercenaries. Green plasma fire, red blaster bolts, screams filled the air. SOMETHING huge hit the Vardo, and the ship exploded. Its concussive force rocked the Beldame violently...

...and one of the Witches staggered backward, falling out of the open hatch. Another tried to grab ahold of her and caught open air. Mad’s sister SHE caught the Nightsister before she too fell to her death.

The Beldame’s pilot: Uncle Taavy, struggled to close the gangplank quickly to not lose the rest of the crew. Then engaged the engines to leave the planet.

But the ship shook refusing to budge. He threw the ‘Dame into full throttle. Still it refused to engage. Uncle Taavy swore a string of curses in his Nomaadi tongue.

“What the Kark is happening!” SHE yelled.

The Nightsister in SHE’s arms replied “Mother Talzin and the Witches won’t let us leave.”

Both Witches looked terrified. Terrified of what Mother Talzin would do if they couldn’t escape.

Mad had enough of Maul and his Mother. She handed her baby to the second Nightsister now seated, and purposely strode to the back gunnery. Adrenaline and anger fueled her determination.

She climbed the gunnery and slid into the seat. Through the windscreen Mad witnessed Mother Talzin and the remaining Nightsisters holding back the Dread Beldame with their magic. Green plasma enveloped the ship. Mad ground her teeth in anger, engaged the blaster cannons and started firing away on them.

Mother Talzin blocked the blaster fire. It dissipated hitting nothing.

Mad screamed in anger, beating the walls of the ship with her fists. The space between her legs oozed blood, her breasts leaked milk...and her baby started to wail...for the first time.

The cry was strong and piercing...and angry. Everyone on the ship heard it.

And so did Mother Talzin. She seemed shocked to have done so and immediately stood down. Calling off the fellow Witches.

The ‘Dame shot forward quickly, as if let go by an invisible hand. Uncle Taavy whooped in glee, to be rid of this forsaken planet. He slammed the ship into high gear and hauled ass.

Mad and Mother Talzin locked eyes as the ‘Dame raced away. She swore she’d fight that bitch until the day one of them died. Nobody was taking her child away from her.

The adrenaline was wearing off and the burden of giving birth caught up to Mad. She slumped in the seat, feeling wetness between her legs and chest.

Sister SHE prevented Mad from falling onto the floor...

...Mad descended into darkness again...

Hunter laid on his bunk sifting through the events that transpired since he met Mad.

The throbbing pain between his legs, burning scratch on his face...the deep bite mark that FINALLY stopped bleeding.

His heart ached a bit too. Pain, love, lust, yearning, uncertainty...so much...felt like it would explode.

Cid’s words bounced around his head...paining him that she was possibly RIGHT. It was the ONLY accurate intel Cid had ever given him.

“Ya looking for a world of hurt, Bandana? “Cause that’s all you’re gonna get with that one.”

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

Chapter 13 to arrive in May!

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transbookoftheday · 5 months

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Phoenix Extravagant by Yoon Ha Lee

Dragons. Art. Revolution.

Gyen Jebi isn’t a fighter, or a subversive. They just want to paint.

One day they’re jobless and desperate; the next, Jebi finds themself recruited by the Ministry of Armor to paint the mystical sigils that animate the occupying government’s automaton soldiers.

But when Jebi discovers the depths of the Razanei government’s horrifying crimes—and the awful source of the magical pigments they use—they find they can no longer stay out of politics.

What they can do is steal Arazi, the ministry’s mighty dragon automaton, and find a way to fight…

#phoenix extravagant #yoon ha lee #nonbinary #trans book of the day #trans books #queer books #bookblr #booklr

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xxtc-96xx · 2 years

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Help, I'm having sibling feels again. Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is just be there and listen if they want to talk. And not be ashamed of them even when they are ashamed of themselves. To not act all horrified and stuff when they admit things to you and to respond with love instead.

Scarfy was going to leave Pigment to die. He didn't but he was going to. Some nights like this he might hate himself for ever considering it, but Newt doesn't. She loves him flaws and all. That's what family is for.

They’ve come a long way now with him finding his sister as a source of comfort ^^

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kithpendragon · 7 months

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Just finished the painting portion of a monster project. These figures are from a board game called "Horrified" [BGG]. They were all horrible single-color plastics, so I decided to help them out a bit.

There was apparently some heat some time in this copy's history, and I wasn't able to fix all the damage before painting. Some of the bases are a bit distorted and the mummy is bustin' some kind of disco move up there, so I'll have to do some corrective base work before I can call it a done project.

The Bride and Dracula look better in person, due to the way my camera picked up the white pigments in their faces.

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livingfast04 · 1 year

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Alright, so when Steve is with his parents and finally allowed to shift, is he actually horrifying? Because Steve, while Steve is definitely experiencing some body horror while looking in the mirror, what does it look like from your author perspective?

Because in my mind it could go one of three ways:

1) It's genuinely a bit horrifying and gruesome. Steve looks like someone who's been partially flayed, parts of skin skin look like they've been rubbed raw, and there are chunks of him that's just raw muscle or bone. He is literally exposed and vulnerable.

Or maybe his body has extras bits? Maybe his finger got so long he needed to add an extra joint in his fingers? His skin leeches all the pigment out, and you can see every blue vein in exquisite detail. At random point during the day, he'll grow extra teeth and have to grow his jaw longer and longer to accommodate them all until its no longer a human jaw.

2) He's incredibly beautiful to look at, and it's terrifying. Maybe his brain is pulling from his mental database of features and selecting the "best ones" in order to make his body "better." So while he's recognizable as Steve, everything about him is so polished and perfected it's not Steve at all.

3) He's not ugly or beautiful; he's massively unsettling instead. His face has become a kaleidoscope shifting from one shape to another and another and another in an endless cycle as a sort of mental exercise to make sure his Steve face is the one he wants to keep.

Or he looks like a department store mannequin with no recognizable features at all. No pores, no freckles, no moles, his eyes are the lightest shade of grey possible, he has no eyelashes to speak of, and his mouth is basically a slash where lips should be. He looks like a lot of scar tissue surrounded by flawless skin.

Just, what do shifters look like when they aren't actively keeping a hold on their appearance?

Hi! Okay, Steve's a little different than the rest because he's still recovering from almost dying. but for the most part they do look pretty skeletal! At least the Harrington branch of the family- (Shapeshifters "Shapeless" form depend on genes!)

They are kind of horrifying to look at, mostly because to the untrained eye- the sort of look like corpses. But they are also just generally not human like. Very pale, can see most of their veins- Steve has a shit ton of freckles and moles the pigment in his skin condenses- He's short, but his arms are long, and his fingers are spidery?? long thin and boney.

Some shapeshifter families try and "breed out the anomalies" they are perfect. Uncanny Valley perfect, no blemishes, no freckles, perfect heights, perfect teeth- too human. Some are more monster-ish, some are tall, in human tall, some just don't have regular features for the most part, a nose that's basically not there, skin pressed down to their skull no cartilage to make defining features. They wanted to become the monsters under the bed when they weren't playing "house humans"

Because Steve is hurt, he looks worse, he views himself looking worse. Eddie's going to see it as face value- Steve's unsettling to look at yes, because he's not human. And it's very noticeable now.

It is traditional for shapeshifters to cover "imperfections" while holding a new shape, so all of Steve's freckles go away, and he keeps a few moles because a family member hundreds of years ago hated the way the freckles looked- so they can't carry them in the gene pool; but they liked the moles. Any scars are hidden because they are "abnormal" and they draw attention. The bigger and more traumatizing ones can be down played and hidden under less vivid scarring. The ones other people saw them get. But they don't heal while shifted. so they visibly scar the real skin ten times worse because they fester. So many have pieces of exposed bones, muscles, or large gaping holes in their skin. Where their real bodies can't function outside of holding a different shape and put energy into healing.

His teeth don't fit in his jaw perfectly either, he's basically got 6 canines, three on the bottom and three on the top.

Shapeshifters bodies don't usually shift without conscious thought. But they can be scared- or startling- so they "Jump out of their skin" which is normally a terrifying amount of body shifting and bones moving- in a very short period of time.

When shapeshifters change bone shape- it's very loud, they are breaking and reshaping their skeletal system. it's not "poof" change height. They get pretty bad stretch marks sometimes too! It's not all magic. Sheading a fake skin is easier than getting a new one. A fake skin comes off like water (besides bone shape, that one is still creepy and hurts like a bitch) but the action of basically becoming something else, takes a huge toll on the body!

At this point I'm not even sure I answered your question properly.

#steddie monster au?#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #monster steve harrington #monster eddie munson #stranger things au #stranger things #shapeshifter steve harrington #steddie monster au? Lore #liv is losing their mind

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devildomwriter · 2 years

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Obey Me As Tumblr #13

Leviathan: Secondhand embarrassment is pure agony and I wish a lot of comedy didn’t rely on it

I cannot deal with it, I have to literally leave the room

Solomon: It’s a sign of being extremely empathetic

Leviathan: Thanks! I hate it. How do I uninstall?

•

Solomon:

Depression tips

• kill the gods and eat their flesh to rise above human chemicals into horrifying immortality

Raphael: We need to talk

•

Simeon: Still don’t really understand how some people have trouble just being nice

Mephistopheles: Oh my gosh you’re such a nice person. Hey everybody come look at how much of a good person this is.

Simeon: I literally cannot comprehend how you got offended by this but thanks for proving my point anyway

•

Belphegor: When I get comfortable with people I start using them as pillows and foot rests

Beelzebub: When I get used as a pillow or foot rest I feel loved

Simeon: I am both of these people

•

Satan:

You know how there’s a theory that no two people see color the same way.

Does that mean color is like

A pigment of your imagination

Mephistopheles: YOU FUCKING DIDNT

Simeon: Huehuehue

Leviathan: #even that fucking laugh is a pun #i hate you all

•

Asmodeus: I’M HOME ALONE AND MY FAMILY FORGOT TO TELL ME THAT THERE ARE PEOPLE PAINTING OUR HOUSE SO I’VE BEEN REENACTING LES MIS AND I JUST VIOLENTLY THREW OPEN THE WINDOW TO YELL ‘CANNONS’ AND THE POOR GUY NEARLY FELL OFF HIS STEPLADDER

Asmodeus: DONT YOU DARE REBLOG THIS I MIGHT GET SUED

•

Leviathan: Sometimes I wake up with a very urgent thought on my mind and it’s usually pretty dumb like ‘je suis un pomme’ or ‘root beer fairytales’ but this morning I woke up and sat there for a second and all I could think was

Tis I,

The frenchiest fry

•

Belphegor: I am decayed. My lungs are full of thorns and mildew, my bones are held together by vines. I am fragile, be gentle with my corpse.

Lucifer: Get out of bed you’re going to school whether you like it our not.

Belphegor: I refuse.

•

Mammon: OMG so I just figured out the word “hurt” is past, present, and future. You will be hurt. You are hurt. You were hurt.

BECAUSE IF SOMETHING TRULY HURT, IT NEVER REALLY STOPS

Belphegor: you poetic little shit

Satan: It’s because…. It’s an adjective….

Lucifer: You will be stupid.

You are stupid.

You were stupid.

•

Mammon: Therapy got a drive-thru or summ?

MC: Welcome to shrink in a box can I take your disorder?

•

Leviathan: Why the fuck does English have a word for the act of throwing someone out a window, defenestration, but not for the day after tomorrow

Satan: Because you’re not looking hard enough

Overmorrow = the day after tomorrow

Ereyesterday = the day before yesterday

Example: I defenestrated my younger brother yesterday. I shall defenestrate my older brother overmorrow! Because I hate my family and also windows!

•

Satan: Synonyms are weird because if you invite someone to your cottage in the forest that just sounds nice and cozy, but if I invite you to my cabin in the woods you’re going to die.

Asmodeus: My favorite explaining the difference between a butt dial and a booty call

Lucifer: It’s called connotations

Asmodeus: Try this one on for size:

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.”

“Sorry, daddy, I’ve been naughty.”

Raphael: Great news! Language is now banned

•

Leviathan: Helpful grammar tip! Farther is for physical distance, further is for metaphorical distance, and father is for emotional distance!

Simeon: Who hurt you?

Leviathan: My father did you not read the post

•

Beelzebub: Isn’t it weird how you can actually feel pain in your chest and stomach when something really hurts your feelings

Solomon: This is actually because it activates your vagus nerve! Basically your body goes “we are so upset! We must be injured! Where???? On the inside guts! Those are confusing and hard to differentiate!!! Confusing guts are hurt!”

Leviathan: Great! How do I uninstall it?

•

Satan: Part of new internet grammar. Using question marks not to denote questions but upturns in voice, so that a tentative statement gets a question mark but a flatly delivered question doesn’t.

Mammon: Why would you do this

Leviathan: It just seems right?

•

Mammon: In a constant state of ‘how dare you assume I know what I’m doing’ but also ‘don’t you dare question me or what I’m doing’

Leviathan: “I have no idea what I’m doing and you can’t stop me.”

Simeon: Artists and writers have a lot to say about this post

•

Mammon: Why my hand shaky?

Barbatos: Your Skelton is ready to hatch

Mammon: This is so fucking ominous thank you

•

Asmodeus: Life is a highway