Prank -Day 24

It was my dad’s birthday today, yay !

The street light was red, she bounced from a leg to the other to keep herself warm in the freezing winter wind. It was a wonderful time of the year for her car to break down. The light just turned green and she took a step infront, the moment her other feet touched the ground again two boys passed her by, one of them was in a shop cart while the other was behind it driving it and after pushing it forceful a few times he put his feet on the back of it and they were riding it. There was no supermarket around.

They passed by her in an instant but she stood still and watched their backs. Finally coming back to reality she crossed the street in a hurry so the light wouldn’t turn red again. She stopped by a craft store to pick up some more canvases and maybe even come coal. Somehow she ended up in the book section, just like always . She picked up a book and looked at it, she knew it, she read it a few months ago, it made her smile. When she looked up to put it back the empty spot of the book showed the other aisle, or at least it was supposed to, instead was a pair of dark eyes that were watching her.

Leaving the book where she found it she walked at the end of the aisle only to be cut off by the shopping cart that passed her by in the street. The one in the cart was the owner of the black eyes. The driver was a blue eyed blonde and both guys smiled at her before the blonde guy moved to her and she took a step behind. He placed both of his hands under her armpits and picked her up and put her in front of the other guy in the cart.      

As she wanted to ask what was happening the guy covered her mouth with one hand while the other was around her waist pulling her towards him. He leaned in and whispered ‘buckle up’ even though there was nothing she could buckle up with. Her hands gripped the edges of the cart in reflex as the blonde guy started pushing them fast, he was running and than they were out of the store, the things she picked up long forgotten.

The cold win was stronger since they were moving faster. People on the street were giving them strange looks and she didn’t blame them. Her fingers itched to move, hit them and leave. Maybe she should bite the dark-haired guy’s hand and scream, technically that was a kidnap.

A few moments later the cold disappeared and they were inside the hall of a building, still riding the cart they moved into what seemed to be the living room of a frat house. The guy behind her finally got up and picked her up as well and threw her on his shoulder, but not before covering her mouth and tying her hands. He moved to the kitchen and than up the stairs to a long hallway and finally in a study room.  

He sat her nicely on the sofa, probably an apology for slapping her ass after he 'put’ her on his shoulder. He stood in front of her and smiled. His teeth were oddly white, she realized that it wasn’t the cold that smelled so fresh outside but it was him. He was too close for her liking but there was nowhere else to back away.

“This was strangely easy” he said after he uncovered her mouth “what if we wanted to rape you, kill you or sell your organs?”

she thought about fighting him on the way to the building than on the way t the room but he was taller and buffier than her cousin, she stood no chance. Her best exit plan was to wait and see if there was any way she could get out.

“We won’t hurt you. It’s just a prank so chill. Your cousin’s frat house and ours are in a prank war. We kidnapped you to end the war, we were losing. Until now”

She remembered Neji saying something about that, her cousin was a senior in Uni and the 'alpha’ of his frat house.

He moved even closer and put both hands around her and leaned in, but all of that was only to untie her hands. Now that she knew what this was she didn’t even bother to try to escape. Neji would find her and if he didn’t in the end they’d let her go.

The pale buy was still standing uncomfortably close to her. And he even tucked a few stands of hair behind her ear in a cliché move. Still he was saved by his charming smile, or smirk, that kinda knocked the air out of her and almost made her swoon.

“They did say you were pretty. But this is ridiculous.” his breath smelled of mint and ice. “Your name is Hinata right? I’m Sasuke” Pause. Was he waiting for her to answer? Did he not know? “I can’t believe I haven’t noticed you around campus. “

a few more minutes went by like this. Sasuke talking to her from a indimidating proximity while she openly started at him. When he saw her staring he gave her another grin almost asking 'you like what you see?’

“You’re not much into conversations are you?”

She giggled, well at least she seemed to be, no sound was heard, a few seconds later she shook hear head and smiled at her. His eyes wee wide open.

“Wait…when they said you’re not much of a talker…” his line of thoughts wavered “so when I covered your mouth…it was pointless” she smiled and nodded “you’re mute. I didn’t know that. Sorry”

He got up and came back with a pencil and  ripped page. He apologized again. She wrote something and gave it to him to read.

'You act too nice to be a kidnapper. Also this doesn’t really seem like a prank. More like blackmail’

“Ah, true true. We ran out of pranks and took a rather odd road out, wouldn’t you say so?”

She smiled. After 'talking’ a bit more there seemed to be a commotion downstairs. She offered Sasuke the paper right as Neji walked into the room looking pissed off.  

'Well I guess we part ways here. It was strangely nice being kidnapped by you.’

Neji took her hand and they left Sasuke staring at the paper with a creepy grin on. He found their time together oddly enjoyable. He knew that tomorrow he’d look all over for her. Maybe that wasn’t a prank, maybe that was a way to make a new…friend, maybe more than that.

In control II

Originally posted by lullabyun


//Yixing x you

Word count: 1,581

Summary: Yixing loses his grip, both on the track and in his life, and you are a countersteer he needs to go straight again.

Part I III

Rain. Rain can be welcomed. Rain can be yearned for. Rain can bring hope and it can revitalize the world. It can make green even more vivid, clear the air, rinse the streets. Rain can bring joy and smile. Joy of the young one playing in the puddle, smile of the older one listening to the sound of the drops drumming on the window sill. Rain can be colorful, light dispersing in the minute prisms, joining together to grace the surroundings with rainbow.

Keep reading

People on the RWBY tags are still complaining over the fact that some of us like to represent characters in different ways (buffier Pyrrha, black Blake, Neo with vitiligo) saying that we’re “trying to fix them” and that is “disrespectful to Monty”

Source: Oeuvres. Gallimard, Paris, 2006;
Translated: for marxists.org by Mitchell Abidor.

In 1953 Debord painted on a wall on the Rue de Seine the slogan “Ne travaillez jamais,” “Never Work.” He considered this bit of graffiti of tremendous importance throughout his life, including it in his autobiography, Panégyrique. The three words contain an entire program, and he was jealous of the graffiti’s use and abuse. The following letter is in response to a postcard issued containing it.

To the Cercle de la Librairie
117, bd Saint-Germain
Paris 6

Paris June 27, 1963


The Bernard printers have sent me your letter of June 21, 1963, by which you a demand 330 F indemnity for non-observation of the law on artistic property. In fact, issue 8 of our revue contains, on page 42, the photograph of an inscription on a wall, “NEVER WORK,” a photograph drawn from a postcard by Monsieur Buffier, whose name is not mentioned and whose prior authorization was not requested.

It is the case that I am personally the author of that inscription on the Rue de Seine, whose origin, if necessary, could be established by ten or fifteen eyewitnesses. You understand that under these conditions I, in good faith, did not think I had to request prior authorization for reproduction, even if the latter was less onerous than the sum you have now fixed (according to the scale established in 1962 by the press union for periodicals with a circulation of less than 10,000, the photographic reproduction for less than a half page costs 20F).

I can only approve your defense of artistic property, which is too often ignored. I would like to say that in this regard the photo published in Internationale Situationniste is reframed in such a way that it only reproduces the part of Monsieur Buffier’s postcard that concerns the document properly speaking ( the inscription itself), this by excluding those characteristics which confer on this post card the artistic imprint unique to Monsieur Buffier. That is, the framing he chose and also the title he gave this subject, the post cards in this series all having, in the lower left of the image, an integrated inscription which comments on its meaning (in this case, “Superfluous advice”). As for the third element, it is acknowledged that in measuring the artistic responsibility of a photograph – by which I mean the choice of a subject – it would appear that on this point I can claim creative property which equals, and probably eclipses, the merits of Monsieur Buffier artistic taste, limited in this case to a simple reproductive choice.

To get to the heart of this question of artistic property, I would like to assure you that I in no way want to demand a portion of the receipts for the sale of this postcard or indemnities for its unauthorized reproduction here and there. But there is another aspect, in my eyes more important. The inscription in question was done in another period, and without any ambiguity it was presented by the avant-garde Situationist movement (cf. the title of this illustration on page 42 of our revue) as a serious sign of the artistic climate of an era, and as a moment in the development of the theories of this artistic movement, theories which have a pretension to a certain seriousness. But Monsieur Buffier, by his personal interpretation of this inscription, and which does not figure in issue 8 of the Internationale Situationniste, spreads it about in his humorous way. Monsieur Buffier’s title, in fact, is “Superfluous advice.” Given that it is well know that the great majority of people work, and that said work is, despite the strongest repulsion, imposed on the near totality of workers by a crushing constraint, the slogan NEVER WORK can in no way be considered “superfluous advice.” This term of Monsieur Buffier’s implies that such a position is already unquestioningly followed by all, and thus casts the most ironic discredit on my inscription, and consequently my ideas and those of the Situationist movement, whose French language revue I currently have the honor of editing.

In the case then that this question can’t be settled amicably, as you say, it seems to me that, forced to prove that the original of this inscription should be attributed to me, I would be within my rights in demanding that you stop selling the postcards that present the fallaciously humorous interpretation, at least until he has printed on them a mention recognizing the serious intentions of the original author.

As for an amicable settlement, which I prefer, it seems that its modalities in the first place depend on the position that Monsieur Buffier adopts when he becomes aware of this additional information concerning our reciprocal rights and obligations in this affair, which I request that you transmit to him.

Sincerely yours
Guy Debord