#I still love faith’s unreleased messages

[lulu2992]

Deleted answering machine messages from Far Cry 5

I found more unreleased content! Here are three messages that were cut and are not available as sound files, but are still transcribed in the oasisstrings file.

“Cult Follower Female 3” - Holland Valley:

Just need to elaborate on somethin' John Seed said earlier. He said we can't think of these people who're joining us as "prisoners." More like people who've been led astray by the world out there. A world that made them dismiss first and think later. They will say YES to their new lives. We need to give them time. Give them love. Make them feel it.

Adelaide Drubman - Whitetail Mountains:

Alright you limped-dick son of a bitch. What on God's green earth did you say to my Xander? Poor sweetheart's been starin' like a deer in headlights for near an hour, eyeballs big as a kitty-cat's. Said you came by is all. Did you threaten him? I swear on my mother's grave, if you threatened him, I will shove my rifle so far up your ass you won't even hear the gunshot. You have no right to be here. Not you or your damn son. So stay clear, you hear me?!

Tweak - Henbane River:

You destroyed my life. Once I've come down from this high I'm gonna get you somehow

I don’t know why they didn’t make it to the game, especially since they all seem still relevant to me. Maybe they were linked to locations that were eventually cut. I’m just speculating but, for example, it’s possible the inside of Fort Drubman (which is in the Whitetail Mountains) was going to be explorable at some point and Adelaide’s message was on a phone in the house. Also, I really wish I knew who Tweak is talking to...

There’s another recording, still available as an audio file, but that I don’t remember ever hearing in the game.

And there are deleted messages from Joseph (one) and Faith (seven), all in the Henbane River region, but I’ve already talked about them here :)

[iznsfw]

Reputation, Or Whatever That Is

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung

IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader Smut

7,063 words

Categories | daddy kink, brat!Wonyoung, squirting, blowjob, please appreciate Wonyoung's power bottom capabilities

Sorry, Yena is coming out sometime but I wanted to finally write something timely. JANG WONYOUNG WHAT THE FUCKKKKK.

Please bear with the religious metaphors, I have Catholic guilt and Wonyoung reignites it. I'm not sorry for all the other fucked up shit here I'm just ooga boogaing because what the FUCK

It’s a little brighter today than usual. The sun surely knows what's about to happen upon its rising. It has no plans of telling you beforehand, so you’re forced to find out yourself. 

You open Instagram, which is insane because you never bother to look at pictures—much less edited, filtered ones made for meaningless impressions. Your blissful ignorance of online concepts is what would make your fans hate you if they had space in their deluded hearts to. Or maybe that’s your age talking.

But today, clicking on that app is what you do, and that already should have been a sign that something’s not right. The usual run of your universe has gone off course. Who could have made that so?

Coffee. The black stillness that’s pure of sweetness and sugar. That’s supposed to keep everything normal. You sip on it as you scroll through clickbait, fan accounts, edits—

Then you wish you never took that hot gulp at all.

Wonyoung. 

It’s all because of her. 

She stands there from behind your screen, silky hair tangled in those lithe long fingers. She’s looking at the camera like she wants whoever took the time to click on her profile to come over and fuck her right now. Man or woman, poor or rich—it doesn’t matter. What ought to matter though is the fact that she doesn’t have someone’s hands slipped around her waist and pulling her close.

You shouldn’t even be thinking about it.

Usually, she’s dressed in knitted pink coats and miniskirts; looking fashionable but modest, modest but unplain. That’s what everyone loves about Jang Wonyoung: she’s prim, sweet, and the daughter of the nation. 

Now, she’s the ideal girl to take right home and have your wicked way with. Yes, you’d feel guilty since she’s so young, just the little age of nineteen. Still, that doesn’t mean you’d have any regrets. She’s the kind of girl you can’t get away from. You’ll always come back for more.

You’d hate to be so upfront, but there’s no other way to interpret it. 

There’s that fucking denim bra hugging her tiny chest, stitched up so high that her abs are on full display. That little pinch of a waist curves so perfectly right up to her wide hips that invite and invite and invite—

Remember to exhale.

So, yeah. That’s how Wonyoung ruined your day, and you barely had your morning coffee.

A text message from your boss appears. You nearly miss it because of how you’re staring all ogle-eyed at the tempting girl on your screen. Before you even click it, you already know what you ought to do. 

hey, it reads, you need to—

-

—go to Wonyoung, and for such a scandalous photo, she’s chosen a remote but classy hotel only the biggest stars know of to shoot it. 

There’s no going back when you drive like you’re running from the law when you’ll break one if you pull the wrong stunt with her. Your throat’s coiled with an unreleased breath that won’t go away unless you see her. It’s like traveling with the promise of meeting a goddess, and although you’re not religious anymore, you wear very, very close to rediscovering faith.

The hotel is grand—clear marble floors and shining chandeliers—and it’s no surprise. Wonyoung wouldn’t have things any other way. You know that when she’s come to your office to complain about her outfits and brands. 

You go up to the desk with prepared evidence for what you’re going to say. “I’m an associate of your client miss Jang Wonyoung,” you say to the lady tapping away behind her computer, “and I’ve come to visit her.”

Associate? It’s more like mentor. You’re a veteran idol whose efforts inspire the rookies, therefore getting you the responsibility of looking out for Wonyoung. So, father figure, maybe? You wince at that.

She makes a polite sad look, still not removing her eyes from the screen. “I’m sorry, miss Jang doesn’t have—”

Slide your ID card on the counter.

She glances at it, stiffens, then looks up at you. There’s only one of you in the entire South Korea, and although the 1x1 traces back to when you were a bit more youthful, it’s not hard to put two and two together. 

She apologizes quickly and offers you an elevator ride exclusive for VVIPs. Smile. It’s been a while since your last return to music, but everyone knows you here. Everyone knows your power.

Wonyoung’s place is the first room on the twelfth floor, a flinching irony.

Knock. You rap your knuckles three times for good luck and charm, because you’ll need it with her. Jang Wonyoung is everything save an easy girl. You remember the many times she refused to give up a debate on how she’s managed, how she’s styled, how she’s treated. She wants things to go her way only.

“Wonyoung,” you call out. Fidget with the handle of the door that refuses to budge. “It’s me.”

Knock a little more. There’s no eye behind the peekhole or a soft “come in.” You receive only the unlocking of the furnished knob and a welcome that makes you wish this could go the way your morals would want it to go.

The door opens you to a gorgeous suite that’s the supreme of all room tiers. This is the kind that only the richest of the rich are able to attain. Big as a house with a soft carpeted ground, there’s a queen-sized bed before a wide window of the city. Picture frames commissioned by the wealthy hang from the painted walls. All for the fucking aesthetic.

Even you, a star who paved the way for the Korean entertainment industry itself, aren’t used to this type of wealth. 

Find her sitting on the ledge of the window frame. Wonyoung has her hands resting on the sides of the window frame. She doesn’t try at least a stance at nonchalance—no admiring stare at the beautiful view, no worried gaze at her clean fingernails. Her interest is you standing before her like you’re afraid to touch her. She might be right, but it’s not like you’d ever have it in you to admit that.

Even you, a man lusted over by girls and women all over the world, aren’t used to this kind of woman—the kind that eats away at you.

“Wonyoung.” Inside, you feel like the weakest man in the world.

She has this smarmy, confident smile on her perfect lips that tells you that it’s no surprise that you’ve come all the way here for her. No surprise at all. She expected it. Anticipated it, if you will.

Don’t mistake the coquettish float of her lashes for theatrics. No, Jang Wonyoung’s just naturally someone you’d want to fuck, no matter the politics of it. “Yes?”

Her voice is also just that pretty. That’s a large part of why it’s so hard to act professional in front of her when she’s your mentee. Even more so by the fact you’re someone she’s looked up to for the majority of her trainee years, which is already something that would make people’s brows lift.

“Wonyoung.” You let your shoulders rest. “Why are you still dressed like that?”

You know all the dialogue that passes around the general public. Oh, Jang Wonyoung’s so gorgeous! Jang Wonyoung’s even more beautiful in real life! You hate to say you can’t disagree. She’s deadlier in person; her body’s there before the glass like she’s waiting for someone to give in to temptation. That coy simper can ruin careers. It can ruin yours. 

To think it all could be gone because of a nineteen-year-old celebrity with a tiny waist and legs you’d love to have around your head.

“Why are you still dressed like someone from the eighties?” Wonyoung taps her chin, then grins. She’s figured it all out. “Oh wait, you are.”

You’re not taking insults from someone who’s below you in experienced years and power. Unluckily, she’s not taking advice from someone above her or below her.

The step you take towards her, towards the little star seated comfortably waiting for you, feels like a sin. 

“You’re incredibly unprofessional for a girl who’s worked her way up here,” you note. Cross your arms and give her a reprimanding look. 

Wonyoung’s immune to nasty looks, too. She’s been doing this since she was a child. If someone gave her a glare that read all too well of a career assassination, she’d wink the bullet away sweetly. “Hm,” she says contemplatively, “I don’t think you get to say that, honestly.”

Your laugh is blunt and sarcastic. Unbelievable. Wonyoung’s the kindest girl according to the people who work for her, so why is she a rebel in your hands? It doesn’t make sense.

“Look here, we—”

You take three steps closer to her. You’ll keep your little rituals and superstitions to keep yourself grounded. Without them, you’d go insane. 

Then without her having to do anything, she comes nearer, like a doomsday foretold by a ticking clock. Who knows? That clock could be a bomb, and that bomb would set off if you dare to touch her with a trembling fingertip. You’d leave the scene injured. And eventually, you’d die the moment they try to help you, because the deed’s been done.

“Oh, I’m looking, alright,” she chirps. She’s doing what you’ve held yourself back from doing: letting her eyes wander. “And I really, really like what I see.”

You’re someone several awards her senior, and you’re still quite intimidated by her at this moment. She’s so sweet yet so honest—she won’t make up a lie to make you feel better and she won’t hide the truth to make you comfortable. Refuse the truth her eyes locked on your crotch tell. You won’t accept it. It’s not right.

“I’m serious.” Approaching her makes you want to go on your knees and beg the lord for a little saving. Do it anyway. No one will rescue you. That’s what the industry taught you. “You’ve made it all the way up here. All by yourself. There’s gotta be something. What are you throwing it all away for?”

She laughs. Funniest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m not. How am I throwing it all away?” 

“Those posts,” you hiss. Doesn’t she get it?

Before she could ask you what you’re talking about, you whip out your phone. Click on the app icon. It instantly shows you the opened tab containing Wonyoung’s recent Instagram posts. Look at her, wrapped in nothing, not even those curtains—giving the camera bedroom eyes when girls her age shouldn’t be shooting them at anyone or be aware of how to. 

It’s already massed a million likes in under an hour. But you know what people who turn on anyone easily will say, and what they say could blot Wonyoung’s bright future by a lot. A million people around the world have caught sight of the abs she’s worked hard for, her toned back, and just about everything. A loud minority with frisky influences can sabotage her whole reputation.

“These posts,” you continue, shoving the screen into the poor girl’s face, “can take away everything you’ve worked for. All that fame, all that money, you can’t brag about them after this.”

Wonyoung looks on innocently. She stares at the screen with uninterested eyes, then switches them back on you. She looks like such a good girl in that second, with her hands seated beside her and that face so full of sparkling perfection. 

Deception can’t lead you away. 

“So, what’s it gonna be, Wonyoung?” 

Long silence that builds up your frustration. Finally, she clicks her tongue. Gives you a shrug of her thin shoulders.

“You liked it.”

“What?”

She points to your phone. “You liked my post,” she repeats. “It says so right there.”

What the hell is she talking about?

You look at the device you’re brandishing. For a while, you can’t find out what she’s referring to. You can never take a liking to her posts, although if they switch on something you didn’t know you can feel. You’d die before—

The heart. 

Wait.

The heart button below her set of pictures is filled with red.

Your heart pumps faster, a button pushed and played.

Fuck.

You turn to her and open your mouth. No sensible words come out. You swear you didn’t tap twice on her update or take it to a private setting. How did it happen? Worse, even if you say that to her, she’d take it as a pathetic lie.

Wonyoung giggles. It’s a tinkly sound that’s adorable, but you’ve long realized that being cute is not all there is to her. She rises slowly, sets her palms over your blazer-clad arms, and gives you an empathetic face. It’s so condescending that you want to dissolve. 

“I know what men like you are all about,” she tells you. She speaks with a sultriness that makes you feel warm and has bumps appearing in masses across your skin.

She smiles. Her eyes disappear into crescent moons and the dimple appears on her cheek. You’re done for. 

“Come on,” Wonyoung continues, squeezing your forearms. “Here you are, a big old man known for being a good singer or whatever. You’re so popular that the first thing that pops up on Naver is your face. Everything goes right for you, doesn’t it?”

You have no idea where she’s going with this. You’re afraid to even ask. Your teeth grit as her massages grow stronger, harder. 

Something else is, too.

“Then, of course, you see me.” 

Her hand. It’s curling around your wrist and bringing your fingers right around that flawless waist. She closes them there tightly.

It’s so bad that it’s good. You want to keep touching her, maybe slip your gliding fingers down her jeans. Oh, you shouldn’t. You can’t.

“You see me, and you get all hot and bothered. And what’s so funny is I’m not even doing anything. I’m just being myself, you know. Being young and rich… a beautiful girl…” Wonyoung is unbuttoning your shirt and you don’t realize it. “You can’t understand how I’m allowed to be this hot when you can’t even fuck me with a normal conscience.”

It’s all so wrong. You want to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to shut up. But if Medusa has her eyes, Wonyoung has her lips to turn you to stone. They keep opening elegantly to speak the filthiest, most fucked up shit, and you can’t deny anything.

Her eyes are creased with knowing pride. Her youth doesn’t rescue her from being so messed in the head already. Those thoughts don’t go along with such a pretty face.

“That’s why you like to get rough with me. You tell me to watch how I speak, watch how I act. You tell me to stop talking to you like you’re no one. You tell me that I’m such a little brat. But you only do that so you can get to control me. That’s your most fucked up dream, right?”

Her mouth is the tiniest space away from your chin. 

You’re another word away from saving yourself a spot in damnation.

Her finger that scratches a flaw on your blazer beckons you to the fire. “You’re not breaking the law or anything,” says Wonyoung, “so why not break me instead, daddy?”

That’s a deal sealed with a rough kiss.

You grab her cruelly and cover her lips with yours. They’re more amazing than you imagined, soft and competent with how she pushes in deeper, depriving herself of the air she needs the most just to get what she needs just a bit more:

You. 

Your tongues collide and clash, striving to get the most taste. She pulls your blazer off (because fuck professionalism, right?) while she kisses you with a hunger that’s equally mental and physical. It’s not like she’d bruise up if you didn’t get your hands on her yet it’s close to that. 

And, in your case, it’s not like you’re breaking any law. She’s nineteen, not anywhere under the limits you’d kill others and yourself for touching. Nonetheless, you’re much older—by age, she could be your daughter; by career, she’s your junior; by power, you’re much stronger. 

So, it’s still so wrong.

Can’t be when Wonyoung’s fist, firm around your cock, feels so right. 

Can’t be when she lands on the edge of the bed with her lips parted in delight as she watches your dick stiffen under her service. 

“There you go, daddy,” she coos, smirking. “Just get all hard for me, then you can stuff that big thing up in my pussy.”

Her thumb toys with your cockhead. You purse your lips to hold back a groan. Let go of it anyway when her smooth, closed palm rubs your sensitive flesh. She cups your balls lovingly before gliding her teasing fingertips under your length, right up to your tip. The girl knows how to do this; she’s good at more things other than MCing and performing.

Wonyoung hones this skill with firmer pumps, giving you the handjob of a lifetime. Her long fingers are just made to handle dick. Each stroke is perfection that holds and pulls and slides. You’re leaking so much already. 

So you turn into the driver of the hate train, the press that loves getting her bad angles and the articles that slash up her name:

Blame it all on her. 

Because you have here a girl, young and pretty and confident, so of course you have to scrape off your sins and nail them all on her, like a quivering hand to wood.

“You think you’re getting it that easily?” you say. Your moan is squeezed in your throat. “Baby, you’re not even close to it.”

Wonyoung smirks. It’s that self-assured, elegant smile that tells you that won’t work on her. She might be a rookie, but she knows how to play the game. 

She tightens her grip painfully. That’s what you get for trying to one her up. Do that to anyone, just not Jang Wonyoung. Your cry goes unheard as she yanks you rather than jerks you off. Spits on your head for good measure. Wonyoung’s eyes make a connection with your soul and says, Yep, that’s what I’d do if you weren’t my senior. In fact, I’d do it regardless. I’d choke and spit and leave you to die, because a pretty Samaritan is better than a good one.

“You’re really out of touch, daddy.” 

With Wonyoung slathering her drool all over you, you’re forced to teeter on the line between heaven and hell. It burns yet the offer of pleasure leaves you sated.

“You think I’m like the pretty girls out there? Other girls might have broken down and begged you to come back.” 

Your rod is subjected to a brief torrid kiss, then a smile as the wicked girl looks up at you.

She laughs, gives you this smile full of haught and womanly power. “Too bad I’m Jang Wonyoung,” she says, her last words before taking you in.

Yes, it’s too bad she’s Jang Wonyoung. It’s too bad she’s not the other girls who’d kneel for a burning touch of stars like you. She wouldn’t be holding control over you with the power of her lips if she had sanity in that pretty head.

Her plump tiers wrap around you and seize everything, encasing it in softness and wetness. Her tongue, the one she uses as a killer expression for her selfies and Instagram updates, kills you all the same with how it swirls around your skin and tastes you. Trying to pretend the girl wasn’t a pro at this like she is with everything else is useless. She’ll keep proving you wrong and overpowering you.

The whole of your shaft is sucked in, then, when her cute nose is pressed directly to your stomach, she lets out a hummed laugh. You shudder—as much as it makes you feel good, fear grips your muscles and makes them limp. She’s loving how wrong everything is, and you’re not sure if you like it.

Her jaw slacks, and then Wonyoung’s swallowing you like you’re water. Can’t be water when you’re this solid in her throat. You let out a shivering groan. You can picture the bulge in Wonyoung’s neck and it’s the last thing you’d count on turning you on, but they did tell you to expect the unexpected. 

Her saliva becomes excessive, resulting in some dribbles down her chin that help her work her mouth on you. Wonyoung’s drool sheens you entirely and she keeps adding more. On the occasion she pushes her face into your stomach, your cock gets wetter. She does, too. 

“Fuck.” Cussing won’t help deter the onslaught of pleasure. You’re unsalvageable. Say it anyway. You babble meaningless, slurred words and not one gets to Wonyoung. All she can hear is the sound of your quivering moans and her mouth taking you all in.

She becomes less of an idol, less of the elegant princess for the cameras, and instead a fleshlight. However, she reminds you that it isn’t that way with a fierce sneer that stays on at all times. She’s not your girl—she’s Jang Wonyoung, and you’re already incredibly lucky that she chose to go down on you.

All that beautiful hair isn’t of any purpose if you don’t get to touch it, to gather it in a ponytail, to pull on it. Your fingers creep into her brown locks not only to give it a little meaning but also for sanity. 

That isn’t a thing in Wonyoung’s world. She pulls your hand off and slaps it on your side. “No,” she says with a shake of her head. “Daddy can’t touch me, not when he’s pretending that he’s hot shit.”

Her nails bury themselves in your hips. Oh, the manicured talons of a gorgeous monster. Oh, the pain that runs through your sides. Should you run before she devours you? Too late for that.

“Wonyoung,” you breathe, and then ask, genuinely: “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She’s so proper and serene on her shows that not even her most desperate fan would think she’s a terror. They don’t know she’s a girl who likes older, weaker men who’d ruin her if she hasn’t the pretty face and attractively black heart to do them the favor instead. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

You’d respond if you knew the answer.

Wonyoung rubs her thumb under your dick, sending little sparks aflying. “Why’d you kiss me earlier?” Her lipstick decorates it as a kinder girl would to your face. “Why didn’t you grab my hair and tell me to be a good girl? Why didn’t you leave? It’s not my fault you want to fuck me.”

All these words of destruction and your cock remains standing. It’s a staunch reminder to her that you can say whatever you want and the hard evidence remains. You want to fuck Wonyoung. You want to do it to a rookie who’d turn the story around on you if it ever came out. You want to fuck her so bad it’s borderline pitiable.

“I’m just giving you what you want, daddy.” Her fingers caress your sides. “Trust me, I could be a very good girl if I wanted to.”

You almost didn’t believe that until Wonyoung started to suck you off again. 

Her lips stroke you effortlessly as if this were her pastime. That’s your most accurate guess, because this seamless performance—the one of her mouth working on you with the impression that this whole thing is nothing to her—can’t be a natural gift. The combination of dripping saliva and her soft lips is lethal.

It’s unbelievable how she manages to find all your tender spots. She preys on them, licking and licking until you’re very sure you were going to blow all over her. But you can’t give her that satisfaction. 

You’re very close to doing so though. She’s perfectly sloppy and rough. You glare at her when she lightly teases her teeth on your girth. She winks at you in response. She leaves you breathless in so many ways. 

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, god—” you whine. It’s so hard to adapt to the girl sitting there with that innocent face and wild mouth that doesn’t dare give up on you. 

Her expressions on camera are always poised. Off camera, there’s this one she flashes you as she shoves her face into your stomach that looks downright evil. Although she’s already fucking you with her throat, Wonyoung partners it with strong suction that’s sure to drain you. 

“Yes, daddy?” She doesn’t pant when she goes up for air, replacing her sucking with her long fingers. 

“I’m really close,” you admit. It’s obvious from your shaking legs. 

Sounds of returned wet suction start to increase. Criticism and compliments prod Wonyoung on. How else would she improve in her idol life? In blowing you? In devouring you?

You realize you’re fitting the cliché. There’s you, an idol whose name is uttered on the daily by both young and old fans, igniting a scandal in the making by fucking a girl beneath you in everything. There’s this expensive suite where stars go for a little precious privacy to do what they want. There’s the two of you doing exactly what you desire: fucking each other. There’s the classic maneater trope with how it’s more like Wonyoung fucking you—she fucks you with her face, fucks you in the head, fucks with your righteousness. Well, fuck.

Wonyoung drools so much that you’re invited to a sea the moment your head pushes past her tongue again. It’s slicker, sloppier, and so much sexier because she’s so completely devoted to your cock. Her hypnotizing eyes trap you and so does her body, tight and tiny—that tummy is flatter than a board and only thin panties hide what her long legs lead to from the bottom.

The only time she stops sucking you is when she darts her tongue side to side with an unhinged pace on your sensitive tip. “Good. Cum in my throat.”

“Shit, god, I can’t—”

Wonyoung attacks you again, and there, in her warm orifice, your plentiful orgasm spends itself. Her throat welcomes you tightly every time. Her hot restricted breaths fan your groin and evokes more semen that spills with no care. 

Your hands ball into fists. Although you’re hot and shaking, you can’t touch her. Why are you following her rules when it should be the other way around? It’s a reversal of roles, a Stockholm’s Syndrome of some sorts whose victim is your cock never wanting to leave from the predatory embrace of Wonyoung’s puckered kiss.

Of course, after she gathers all of your cum in the pool of her mouth, she swallows.

She really could be a good girl.

“Awh.” Wonyoung pouts mockingly. “Daddy, are you crying?”

Touch your face. To your horror, she’s right. The electricity and shock of her continuous blowjob results in a few tears on your cheeks. You haven’t done that in years. Wonyoung is the first one to make you cry like this.

You flush. What more to hide your weakness than anger? “Wonyoung,” you start, then you realize you don’t know what to say, “I—you—”

She smiles. You aren’t going anywhere.

She shoves you to the bed. You’ve reached rock bottom in spite of the softness of the quality pillows. You’ll scrape your way out if not for Wonyoung finishing the job by keeping you there assisted by her legs. They close around you with not even a courtesy false promise of an escape. No negotiation, no coaxes. 

Wonyoung is sitting on your crotch but not on your dick, which is a problem. Which is a solution. Her hands are pinned to your chest while you try not to meet her eyes. It’s a losing game when your runaway glances are met by her grinding hips, silky thighs, and the hard, flexing abs of a perfection of a midriff. 

Her fingers tug on the waistband of her panties before slowly slipping them off. Her pink pussy clear of blemish or hair comes in contact with your length. Up and down she goes, her dancing hips always seeking for more friction. You understand their need because you share the same—Wonyoung’s splayed lips on your member feel heavenly. It’s kind of disappointing that she might as well have climbed her way out of hell.

If she did, she’s the prettiest little devil you’ve ever seen.

“Ohhh, don’t you get it?” Wonyoung asks. She moves so smoothly, you nearly forget she’s humping you rather than dancing. Her soft moan brings you back. It’s the first time you’ve heard it, and you’re melting; it sounds so seductive and innocent in the same breath.

You know her. She knows you. So it’s clear: Jang Wonyoung can be anything—supermodel, actress, dancer—but she cannot ever be innocent. 

Her gorgeous voice is silky when it twists into moans and gasps. Looking down at your crotches meeting and swaying is a better show than end-of-the-year performances. The blowjob and commanding you around must have turned her on by a lot—her flesh is hot and wanton with juices as it slides up and down you.

“You’re not going anywhere, daddy!” Wonyoung giggles. She kisses your nose, then your chest until her lipstick marks you. You burn up with feverish lust after each peck. “Daddy is only Wonyoung’s. And I knew your perfect cock would be mine when I posted those pics. I know men like daddy would do anything for me.”

“Wonyoung.” Breathe again, because you’ll need to after this, so why not do it now? “Why are you doing this?”

You thought her flirtatiousness in your office was just her coyness coming out to play. She’d rest her chin on your desk, suck a red lollipop on some days, maybe run her fingertips over your knuckles. Day in and out, she plays the same game. You didn’t know it would reach this level.

“Because I want to mess you up, daddy,” Wonyoung says. Her tongue swipes at the cavern of your mouth right until she nibbles at your lower lip. Her lipstick peppers your face. “I want to fuck my daddy up so bad he’ll never go a day without thinking of me.”

Swallow. The friction of your sexes is driving you crazy and close to the edge. All the same, you don’t want to make a fool of yourself cumming early for Wonyoung. 

What happened to your dynamics? Your relationship? There wasn’t a romantic one, but it was always you holding the reins professionally and her just being an insistent passenger. Now she’s wrapping that rein around your neck and claiming you for her own. Looks like you have control everywhere excluding the bed.

“That’s it?” you ask. Shut your eyes—just seeing her grind on you with her utterly wet cunt can make you bust. “Your career doesn’t matter to you?”

“I could say the same thing to you.” Wonyoung lifts herself up and flashes that wicked smile again. “But I want to feel this in me before you wimp out.”

You and Wonyoung fall down a bottomless hole of consequence and wrongs but Wonyoung makes sure to bottom out the first time she sits on your dick. She engulfs you whole and traps you there with her soaked, grippy walls that slide all the way down. 

You’d say her pussy has a vise grip, holding onto you like all goes wrong if it didn’t, except you think it has the grip of a vice. Need for her juices that coat you replaces the need for alcohol. Even if you get out of this suite alive, (which is a low possibility), you can see yourself always coming back for more. You could be addicted to anything—smoking, eating, cheating—but it just so happened your vice is Wonyoung.

“Daddy!” she yelps, and from there you can’t count the times she slams her cute butt down your thighs. “Oh my god, daddy!”

Her dainty, cute yells make you throb inside her. Perhaps it’s the kittenish quality of it that turns you on so much. She sounds so appealing, so fucking ruinable that it’s surprising to see that she’s doing the ruining here. Her expression in bed is more animated than the ones she makes onstage—her nearly closed eyes look upwards while her mouth falls open. 

The squeeze of her tight, wet cunt renders your knees weak. It’s a good thing you’re lying down. Wonyoung makes sure you stay that way by penetrating herself with you over and over again. Her being barely a weight on you doesn’t stop you from lying there uselessly. You know better by now not to challenge her, not when each time you enter her vagina is better than the last. Her pussy is slippery and tight, proving to be the smallest and the best fit for your shaft simultaneously. Her hole is too tight and too good. 

“Is this all for me, daddy? Huh?” Wonyoung circles her hips, making you moan, then continues her up-and-down movements. “You’re so hard, you naughty daddy. I know you got a b-boner when you looked at my posts. Now I’m giving you another one.”

You always thought of Wonyoung as justifiably confident yet arrogant. She told you once at your desk that she doesn’t deserve a stylist who only has a four-star rating. She lamented about the lack of competence of her staff preparing her comeback stage. All those you turned down to give the topics of her complaints the benefit of the doubt, but you know she’s right. She doesn’t deserve less when she’s better than the best. She doesn’t deserve less when she knows her place: a royal throne. So you can’t deny that she’s too hot to handle, undiscriminating to you whose connections always have impossibly beautiful women somewhere in there.

She’s so hot that her small breasts bouncing from behind that denim bra and tube top looks appealing. She’s so hot that the heat between her legs grows wetter. She’s so hot that when her soft ass crashes down on you again, you don’t find it a repetitive bore. 

She’s so hot that you’d let the slim, tall girl use you until dusk turns to dawn, even if the curtains behind her are drawn apart and the secret cameras get to snap a photo.

“Shit, Wonyoung,” you say, your core squeezing. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“I bet you’ve thought about this, daddy. You thought that one night, I’ll be so bad that you could book us a whole hotel and fuck me in all the rooms, just like this one. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes, fuck yes.”

“You wanted to open my legs and use my little pussy all day long, huh? Until I’m yours to throw around and do whatever?”

“Y-yes.” Nod. Your face twists—she shouldn’t speak when she’s fucking you because all the filth she says makes you want to blow inside her already. It’s the kind of truth that arouses rather than hurts.

Wonyoung’s riding switches to a rapid intensity that makes you yell. She lets you in so deep to the point that her butt cheeks touch your heavy balls. She’ll drain them for sure; the pace she sets is terrifyingly quick. It seems that she becomes tighter after each bounce, and it’s not helping you hold out at all.

Watch the wildness in Wonyoung’s eyes become animalistic. It makes you all the more certain now of one solid fact: there is something seriously wrong with Jang Wonyoung.

She smirks. “Well, you got it wrong. I’m not all yours, daddy.” She leans down, resting her palms on your shoulders. “You are all mine.”

Her hands might as well be a chained collar waiting to close around your neck. Her devilish simper is supposed to scare you, not turn you on. Somehow, it does both. 

She flicks back her hair as she sits up again. Through it all, her riding doesn’t stop. “This cock?” she asks before slamming her pussy down it with a different kind of ferociousness. Cry out but she shuts you up with a furious kiss. “It’s gonna be my dirty secret. I’ll always go to daddy after my schedules so I can make him cum—over and over again.”

To think that a young girl like her has you at her beck and call is laughable, but there’s no laughing now. As you stare at Wonyoung’s fluid body and her hair bouncing beautifully, you realize she actually can have you for herself. It only took one Instagram post to lure you to her. She sees you’re falling deeper and deeper for her.

She didn’t exactly tell you how to escape.

“You gonna cum, daddy? Is my perfect pussy milking you?” 

You can do nothing except nod.

“Of course, I can feel you throbbing, i-it’s making me lose it,” gasps Wonyoung. Her whines are making you lose it yourself. “Let’s cum together, okay? You can only cum when you feel Wonyoung squirt all over your massive cock.”

She squeezes tighter on top of you when she reaches down to rub her clit. She’s in search of any kind of stimulation: the slap of her ass on your thighs, the upward shoves of your erection, the pulse of her clit. Her moans increase in their whiny girlishness. Their tender vulnerability makes you think she should be the one underneath your body though you’re aware that’s never going to happen. Wonyoung belongs on top, just the same with her name in first place in the list of brand reputation rankings, browser searches, followers.

Once upon a time, you took charge over her. You managed her lessons, her videos, her behind-the-scenes duties. Funny how it’s the opposite now, wherein she jounces on you freely with the domineering message of caution: don’t cum until she does.

And god, is she making that hard. Everything about her is so attractive, from the bounce of her hair to her midriff showing your entering cock to her pretty pink pussy clutching you. What gets you, however, is her face—everyone loves looking at that face. Today, you’re under an aphrodisiac for it: you’re in love with the roll of her eyes as she rides you, the pink on her cheeks, the part of her lips. 

“Fuck yes! Ugh, daddy, you feel so good inside me…” Wonyoung’s core clenches and slides your penis along its textured, sensitive walls. Her gasp is straight out of fantasies. “You’re balls deep, see? Look how your meat’s filling me. My pussy’s going to be so sore after this.” She chuckles. “Wait, who says we’re stopping?”

You shudder. You’re getting very close. Your earlier orgasm still has its effects on you. You’re afraid you’re going to do something you shouldn’t under her bedroom law. She’ll imprison you with her thighs and waterboard you with all the girl cum she promised until you confess that she’s the best fuck you ever had. 

“Daddy’s going to cum so hard he’s probably going to breed me. Then I’ll, oh, I’ll feel it inside my tummy and it’s going to be a scandal. Wouldn’t you like that? Getting to knock up Jang Wonyoung? I can hear you moaning. I think you really like that. I think that’s why you’re thrusting up in me. You want to be a real daddy and make your baby girl a mommy. That’s so fucked up, you know that, right? You shouldn’t be having sex with me, let alone breeding me. But you’re a fucking weak old man, so of course you like that.”

You’re burning up. They’re the signs of what’s to come. If her confident words inspire her young fans, her monologues of lust make you feel like you’re the worst person in the world. Of course, the boner is part of the effect. 

You groan. “Wonyoung, baby girl, please—”

“Oh god, daddy, I’m going to cum!” she squeals. Her emotions control her and tell her to go harder, bounce harder, squeeze harder. She’s pushing past her limits. “Agh, agh, you’re cumming, too, right? Cum for me. You’ll be—fuck, my daddy’s going to make me cum! I’m squirting all over his cock!”

She slams herself down roughly and repeatedly till your lower body’s flooded with her cum. You can’t take it anymore. It feels like dying because you swear you can see stars in the ceiling, stars of lust in her eyes. La petite mort. How poetic, since Wonyoung’s screaming still sounds as beautiful as her singing and speaking. 

Her shouts are close to breaking the windows’ glass. Anyone can figure out what’s happening without the destruction of the pane—the curtains are wide open, letting the world see the youngest icon of the new generation pumping herself onto her co-worker. 

You wonder if there’s actually poor watchers out there seeing you cream Wonyoung’s princess pussy, grab her ass to guide her, and kiss her when she leans down.

Wonyoung tastes the best when she’s squirting.

-

Consequences always catch up no matter what. You can hide under a cloak, in another country, underneath the earth in a secluded bunker and all that won’t help. You’ll be stuck dealing with the outcome, thorns from a rose you thought was too pretty to have some. 

That’s the first thing you remember when you wake up, wrapped in the bed sheets and by Wonyoung’s arms. Someone’s calling you. Bad news: it’s your boss—the ringtone itself sounds angry, too. 

“Hello?” you ask. You can’t help the grogginess of your morning voice, try as you may. If your boss didn’t know what happened, he can perfectly guess from the exhaustion riddling your greeting. 

“You dumb little shit.” You can feel the spittle of your boss’ insult from miles away, cities away, screens away. “You’re lucky I’m friends with the fucking CEO.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t give me that. Some janitor saw you from the wing. I needed to hear it from you: did you fuck Jang Wonyoung?”

Unexpectedly, a veiny hand you remember holding something else grabs your phone. Wonyoung leans against your shoulder wearing nothing as she holds the phone to her ear.

“Why?” she quips, loud and clear. “Wouldn’t you?”

[emdashreed]

Authenticity Peddling

America I love you but you’re bringing me down. These tired eyes are searching for something concrete, something tangible in the muddled mess of meaning that greets them. Days turn to weeks turn to months turn to chances missed and taken and it’s all worked out far in advance, calculated on ledgers stacked neatly in rows in the third level sub-basement of the apartment four blocks down. Music keeps the hearts beating, rhythms and rhymes leading where they will and want, and somehow this will all make sense, it will, we know it. There’s things in the air, emanations, lists and such and so forth, areas of contemplation and capsized creation, faith for the faithless and face-time with the fated. Cynical pondering aside, there’s too many things in our heads: media and message, sex and stalemates, solitude and symbolism, the fate of the dollar in the world market, faith and god and love and death and sex and time and strange bedfellows and simplicity and more sex and more more more everything… It is overwhelming us, it is over us, we are over it. We are underneath the guns now, sites aimed and dropped and all hands lost in the gale. All the time. All the time. All the time in the world. Waving the flags hanging from the broken mast, these hands have seen and held the world, exhaustion preceding explicit material preceding more exhaustion. Oh well such is the life we’ve chosen, and such is the time we’ve spent, and so we will move along into the mild new wonder of autumn. Leave the well enough alone, we’re stocked up here. Go on then, there’s more worlds than this in the offing. And these tired eyes have seen enough for today. So call this a lullaby I suppose.

Consciousness I love you but you’re bringing me down. Needs must and needs demand, and thusly we all end up meeting between want desire and disavowal. Oh well, move on, nothing more to see here, just write the phrases out ad infinitum until it’s noticed and called in to headquarters. Keep calm and carry on lie back and think of England and wait for the perfect moment to try to change things. It’s coming it’s coming it’s coming you’re coming I’m coming no one’s coming ok we’ll get it next time I’m sure of it. Can’t hang your head now, there’s worlds to be won and songs to sing and ends to mean and means to end and this end might be too mean so it means nothing, in the end. A box checked yes no or Green Party but we demand a recount! Protest the villains, destroy the heroes, and raise up the glorious middleman, the blessed mediocrity, the normal national nightmare of numbness. Little things coming and going in and out of style and STOP! Your life depends on THIS! Only you can help, but you must spend spend spend! Defend the viewpoint, have fun storming the castle, and don’t forget: we’ll be watching for your downfall. We have planned and plotted and tasked and renewed and waited and waited and waited and still we have nothing to show but matchbooks in our pockets and a scriptbook for an unreleased film of the novel. (DiCaprio’s attached, it’ll be big in Europe.) This is masked hostility and humility and humanity and attachment passed off as propaganda in order to confuse and fog the mind. True to forms, we writhe and wind, adventure and abstraction meeting somewhere in the middle and leading to phonecalls to strangers and late night confessions and repressing the real meaning behind anything, everything. We laugh at catastrophe, we dance with the dead and we make plans oh we make plans and we get up early and we stay up late and we never get anywhere anywhere anywhere. So count up the actions, create a diagram and make a presentation to the board. It’s happened too fast to make any sense of anything, so let’s forgo sense for now and embrace the randomness of the moment. Go crazy on each other, I say. And of course I can’t sleep. I am weird and vital, full of electricity and neurotic impulses. My hands are moving of their own accord, fashioning arcane symbols from my bones and using my veins and arteries as the twine in a complicated cross-hatched dreamcatcher.

The World I love you but you’re bringing me down. Words float by in front of me, like I was in a comic book, but this is the uninteresting part before the hero/villain conflict emerges and the archetypes manifest. Oddly enough though, I am joyous. Nothing is static, everything moves and shifts, and this pleases me in ways both large and small, so that the weirdness is dealable and I move in sync with the rhythms in my head; I am everywhere you see I am nowhere I am everywhere I am nowhere I am wondering whether I will sleep I am wondering when it will all go down in flames I am wondering when lift-off occurs I am wondering how much my lunch will be tomorrow I am wondering whether this weird existential sickness infests people in Ethiopia I am wondering which bill to pay first I am wondering if it’s imaginary these things I want and think and see and feel and the blood, oh the blood. There’s things I’ve done/seen/been that no one knows, that no one will ever know. Don’t blink don’t breathe don’t move, muscles twitch and sounds emerge from the other room but it’s all static to me but nothing is static. It will continue to change and in 2 days I will be a different person and this will all seem like it was written by someone with a different brain chemistry and I am wondering whether I want another. Scholars and soldiers know but little else appeals to me other than change, so mutatis mutandis and onward into the glorious unknown. Single coils and double backs and triple plays and quartered torsoes and steel toed boots to the gut and axe wounds and typed out lists and wires and veins and wires and veins and wires and veins and conductance through them all over again and again and never again we all die but never again and somehow this made a difference before before before oh no whatever never mind over mattered very little sometimes when I think it’s all overrated over aided over it over it over nothing it’s nothing I feel nothing I want nothing I am nothing more than this isn’t overhead down and I’m just a shade more than awake and aware of more than what is normal here. My heart is my head is my heart is empty and full of everything and everyone and it beats in doubletime and then I doubleback and I am still here still right here in this chair in this room in this house in this state in this body in this chair. My eyes adjust of their own accord and the prickling in my skin has subsided and the nervous energy has dissipated and now I just want to feel alive again and I’m wondering if I really need to wait for 5 days until I do again and I am inside the impulses in my brain and I see that everything is available at all times and everyone is everyone and everywhen is now and then and somehow it all makes sense to me for once and always.

The Universe I love you but you’re bringing me down. Atoms coming and going and coming and smashing together and leaving trails and pieces of themselves behind, and it’s ok. It really is. Missing pieces are what proves that things exist; nothing is whole nothing is pure nothing is unbroken. The only thing unbroken IS nothing. The absence. The lack. The hole. The whole. It’s what is at the center of everything everywhere everytime everyspace just nothing nothing nothing nothing. So we fill it. With stuff. With people. With ourselves. And it’s still there, the nothing. So we ignore it. For minutes. For hours. For years. And it’s still there, the nothing. So we face it. With god. With sex. With everything. And it’s still there, the nothing. So what? If everything is nothing and nothing is everything what is the ultimate point of anynothingnothingnothingnothing NO THING. OK. This has gone on long enough.

[saintangelina]

where angels don't fly #1

this picture is from my 22nd birthday, a day that i spent crying in bed, the first half at least. it's truly kunt how one can be receiving a ton of happy bday messages and be so distraught with life lmao.

leading up to it i just didn't feel like doing nothing for my bday, for no specific reason just vibes. i have a very different view of things and tbh i try to celebrate myself as much as possible during the ENTIRE year, so i just didn't feel like there was much in the air to commemorate. my mom was insisting on having dinner outside with some of my friends, including my dad, and with that simple request, me knowing i had a very femme look planned for the night out, i freezed to the thought of posting up outside with my dad "looking like that". mind u, he doesn't say shit abt it ever lmao, those times are long gone but those scars very much woke tf up in that moment.

this caused an insane crisis, were i was reflecting deeply abt the fact that, my truth, my essence, my soul's true purpose and flourishing is conditioned to my current location. this is still true, partially. but i'm very privileged, i try to remind myself of that because i'm graced with alot of peace that others that look like me just don't have. that never kept the monsters away though. ALL my life i've been frozen, succumbed to the words of those around me, i've created beautiful realities within my own safe space, the digital world. creation is my purpose but for so long i've let how the world views me condition my movement. i think i'm slowly getting my voice back, and my will to just bulldoze life with art. and somehow i think my birthday reminded me of that, so i guess there was something to celebrate after all :p

by god's will and divine timing, we finally had our sleepover!! these two angels are the ones who remind me of my humanity, of deserving unconditional love and support, of being me and allowing myself to breathe. ethereal souls that get my hand every time and say "you're good!". i'm forever grateful that i can share this life with them, and that night i learned more than i did in months. i learned that i'm not to fault for falling deep in the traps of unrequited love - in the form of lust - and looking for the most basic human necessities like touch in someone that will simply not give it to me, because they're not supposed to. i was also reminded to share, share share share. i trap years of guilt within me and i've just arrived my 20s, and i know damn well i don't want to be the seniors around me, engulfed in decades of trauma, pain and stagnancy. i made a vow to forever be honest about what's going on with me, with them at least, because i pick and choose very carefully who can be apart of my tapestry.

but these two...every inch of them, and every inch of me is valid when we are around each other, and i honestly wish everyone carried just a lil bit of that frequency with them everyday. pure magia

meanwhile, miss twigs is out here saving lives and exceeding the bar once again. been listening to eusexua (the unreleased was to feel alone) for the past months since the valentino l'école show, and she truly just feels like a hug of hope, getting me out of the darkness with the use of it, with sensorial bpms that just make every cell in my body vibrate every stain of doubt away & fully letting go. i hope one day i can tell her the depths of what she makes me feel just out of 4 minutes and 23 seconds of music, let alone an entire discography, and ngl manifesting we'll become peers of the craft and we can work together period.

an eclipse in pisces is upon us, the astrologers are saying to not do much, practice patience, rest and let the higher up do its thing. so i’m just gonna bathe myself in faith salts, put a juicy body oil, drink some tea and relaaaaaaaax.

....................ʢᴗ.ᴗʡᶻ

well LMAO, hi. i've decided to start a dramatic journaling journey of journal journalism on here, the format is great and i always felt like i needed to spread my thoughts/seeds through every corner of the internet that i can. idgaf about typos, oversharing, self-centeredness LMAO. i'm learning to value my rants, and giving it a digital medium that's slightly customizable is cute. this is gonna be my vessel from me to me so i can elaborate more on my experiences, and keep up with myself. if someone finds it, hopefully it'll spark a thought or two.

angelina xx

[cherry-interlude]

Lana Del Rey Album Songs Ranking (Remade)

It’s been a few years since I ranked all of Lana’s (album) songs so I wanted to do it again. This is all my OPINION, which I’m sure some people might disagree with, but you don’t have to agree with it. This is also a very long post.

Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood

This cover song is just a little too drab and uninteresting to me, and I never listen to it. After the brilliant, sprawling, sexy, heart-breaking tracks on Honeymoon, this feels like a tacked-on track just to plump up the album. It feels simply like a cover.

For Free

Though this is a well-made song, with three brilliant women owning the track, it again just feels like a cover. It fits in well with Chemtrails, but by the time I get to this song I’ve had my fill.

Breaking Up Slowly

It just feels repetitive and simple, something only to have on in the background while my attention is diverted. It’s a good song and a nice attempt at bringing Lana’s country music in, but it does little to keep me interested.

God Knows I Tried

This song is filler. Jammed between the jazzy softness of Terrence Loves You and the pop favourite High By The Beach, this track just feels like it was sort of shoved in. It doesn’t even feel completely right on Honeymoon, instead a throwaway song that bridges Ultraviolence and Honeymoon whilst not fitting in with either album.

24

Though perfect for the credits of a Hollywood movie, 24 has plenty of flair but nothing of substance. The lyrics aren’t as imaginative as most of Lana’s music and I’m not surprised this song found itself near the end of the album.

Lucky Ones

Personally, this song irritates me. It's sickly in its lyrics, sugary in the romance and classic Lana tropes of dangerous men and Lana starstruck by them no matter if they’re ‘careless cons and crazy liars’. The little flair of the verses and the overtly sweet chorus really irks me, especially following the brilliance that is Lana’s first ‘Del Rey’ album.

Coachella

It is a rushed track, sounding completely unfinished and hurried with an unconvincing track beat. Polished, it would be brilliant – but it sounds like Lana thought of the song (which sounds promising in the video where she sits in the forest and sings) and had to force it to ‘fit in’ with the trap-pop tracks on Lust For Life. The lyrics are thoughtful, if not cliché, but it could have been done better.

This Is What Makes Us Girls

It just doesn’t appeal to me. Maybe because I can’t connect to the lyrics in any way, I just don’t feel anything when I hear this song and choose to skip it. That being said, the demos are pretty fun.

God Bless America

As much as it’s a song honouring women during a period of time when feminism was being shaken, it doesn’t quite feel like Lana’s heart is in it. The patriotism is uneasy considering she was removing herself from the American flag and its associations, and the anthemic feel never lifts. It’s a sweet song, but never goes deeper than surface level.

Religion

Though fairly sexy and haunting – her unshaken faith to her man, her drawling voice – this delicate track is too simple and sombre for me to get completely into it. I always want to skip and get to my favourites.

In My Feelings

It’s great Lana has a bad-girl, bad-bitch, fuck-you pop track but this, like Coachella, feels unfinished. It has the vibe of work in progress, and the vocals are still messy (surely intentionally, though it doesn’t always come across that way) as well as trying slightly too hard. It doesn’t compare to Fucked My Way Up To The Top.

Beautiful People Beautiful Problems

The verses don’t match up to the choruses and I feel nothing – not empowered or emotional – when listening to this song, but it is a beautiful duet between Lana and Stevie. Their voices really are divine together and though I don’t listen to this song much, the demos are even better.

Change

Mostly because it freaks me out, this is a song I don’t often listen to. With a basic structure yet long, meandering lyrics, Lana broods over the state of America at the time, which can make for depressive listening. Though it’s a pretty enough song, it’s seriousness is too much to bear sometimes.

Blue Velvet

Sometimes too slow, Blue Velvet doesn’t inspire multiple listens in me, but it is a gorgeous cover and absolutely a showcase of Lana’s vocals.

Diet Mountain Dew

A cheeky little track that won many over, it still is hard for me to fully get into it. However, it ages like fine wine and is a wonderful step into the Lizzy Grant unreleased tracks (especially with the many, sometimes even better demos).  

Burning Desire

It’s a messy song, with Lana’s vocals shaky and the instrumental not quite up to scratch, but this song is certainly a guilty pleasure and great for getting into the sexy mood. The car metaphors are a bit much, especially considering it’s for a car advert, but if you get past that it’s a song to add to your freaky playlist.

Money Power Glory

As powerful and dark as this song is, with incredible instrumentals and Lana at her most dynamic, I barely remember the lyrics of the verses, instead waiting for the rich choruses.

Swan Song

A gentle track that has a lot of untapped power behind it, this is a quiet stormer of a song that has a lot of heart and grace. It may be a filler track, but it is definitely better than some.

Bartender

Even more gentle is the confessional, piano-led Bartender, which is a sweet little love song stripped back much like Lana’s simple romance where she sneaks out to see her lover. The main (and probably ridiculous) thing that keeps me from falling in love with this song more – though I’m already pretty amazed by it – is the very quiet sound of feedback that comes and goes, a fuzzy noise that is very subtle but distracting enough for me.

The Next Best American Record

This song would be higher if it was Architecture – the gorgeous, well-thought stunner that wowed us all when it was leaked. The lyrics are less fractured relationship and more wishy washy, wiping away the gritty sadness that made Architecture so beloved (at least to me). Now it’s been made ‘happier’, it’s hard to tell what the song is – is Lana happy with her lover or is she sad like in the unreleased version? Is this a break up song or a celebration of the romance? What does it mean now that it is both of them that are obsessed with writing? It’s something for me to certainly explore more, but it is paled in comparison to the original.

When The World Was At War

This track grew on me, with the hidden lyrics, fun vocals and hopeful message. Lana knows how to make a song that lifts your mood and this is certainly one of them.

Guns and Roses

I used to despise this song – finding it boring and dull. However, after giving it a listen years later, it is in fact a beautiful song with a gritty feel that is perfect for Ultraviolence. It fits in perfectly with the album and the extended tracks, and though it isn’t the strongest lyrically, the vocals and dreamy feel is thrilling.

Lolita

I choose to listen to this song without the underage character – or romantic connotations of her – in mind, instead seeing this song as a grown woman trying to charm an older man. However, as I have grown older – and read (and loved) the book several times more – I feel more inclined to distance myself from this song. It’s a fun, perky pop track but it definitely feels dated.

Dance Till We Die

Lana sings of her connection to other famous female singers and her daughter’s chosen name, making this a very personal pop song that also reminds of When The World Was At War for its hopeful and ultimately positive edge. It is a little slow but incredible touching, and the bridge is so kickass you can’t help but dance along.

Not All Who Wander Are Lost

This is a very sweet little song that again showcases the more positive side of Lana’s music, rather than the heartbroken and distressed women she tends to play. Though it is a filler song it’s a very pretty one and so catchy.

Wild At Heart

Wild At Heart is similar to Not All Who Wander Are Lost in that it’s a departure from a tragic femme fatale, instead a love song that also mimics Swan Song in that she considers leaving fame for her lover. What makes it even better is how Lana samples How To Disappear, a much sadder track, and twists it into something happy with this ultimately more upbeat album.

Radio

Like Diet Mountain Dew, Radio is another perky tune that is more than just a catchy filler. It’s a little bit sassy and has an edge to it (with the expletives and how her life is sweet not like sugar but cinnamon) that keeps it from being too frothy. Speaking of Lana’s newfound fame, it’s a nice break from the love ballads and tragedies peppered throughout Born To Die.

Without You

Shockingly dramatic, Without You is the ultimate symbol of Lana’s older music – a woman who could only feel happy unless her man was in her life. She has definitely moved on for the most part from wailing her demise at losing her lover but Without You is still glamorous, catchy and perfect to singalong to.

The Other Woman

This is one of Lana’s best covers – Nina Simone’s song about being the other woman and how it is in fact lonely and heart-breaking. Lana makes the song her own, her vocals stunning and lo-fi with instrumentals that are perfect for Ultraviolence.

How To Disappear

I feel that the live version of How To Disappear, where she sung it on stage before it was released with its real instrumental, is the superior version. It’s stripped back and tender enough to feel the emotion thoroughly, but the album version doesn’t disappoint. It’s one of many great tracks from (what I think is) her best album, and has a great story within it.

Fucked My Way Up To The Top

Lana’s satirical, sexy and stirring Fucked My Way Up To The Top was just tongue-in-cheek enough to keep from being too much of a cliché. Perhaps based on her real experiences but definitely a fuck-you to anyone who critiques her for owning her sexuality, it’s a little bit controversial but an incredible song.

Tomorrow Never Came

This song, which is a gorgeous duet with Sean Ono Lennon and a nice nod to 20th century music, subverts expectations that it is a sad song by in fact including a happy ending. I love how it can make you cry with both sadness and happiness, and tells a sweet story that paints pictures of parks and country houses.

Yosemite

The long-awaited Yosemite didn’t disappoint, and though it took a while to grow on me it became a classic and somehow familiar track. It’s impossible to not sing or dance to it and wouldn’t be out of place in Lust For Life.

Hope Is A Dangerous Thing

It’s quite slow – the Change/24/Old Money of Norman Fucking Rockwell – but it is clearly a personal and well-thought song that references Lana’s great inspiration Sylvia Plath. Lana’s deft at getting her thoughts out in song and I think though it’s not a song I often listen to, it is beautiful.

Honeymoon

The sweeping violins, dramatic vocals and the dangerous undercurrent makes Honeymoon crackle with electricity. It’s an amazing introduction to an album that once again has dangerous men, bad girls who get hurt but are strong again and amazing instrumentals. Though it’s not the best song from the album, it sets the tone perfectly.

Million Dollar Man

Like Without You, it’s another song of complete devastation, which Lana has grown from in her music. Million Dollar Man shows some great vocals and lyrics, and gets the emotion out perfectly whilst honouring the music that inspired her.

Old Money

The verses are pretty enough but they don’t catch my attention the way the choruses do. The slow, steady song took a long time for me to really appreciate but it’s impossible not to feel some kind of emotion when Lana lets her lover know she will be with them whenever they need her.

Sad Girl

Like The Other Woman, Sad Girl shows how being the other woman has it’s downfalls but appreciates the sexy, exciting side of it – how alluring her man is and how much of a bad bitch she may be. Once again, it’s a pure Ultraviolence song that shows Lana’s vocals and music in the best way whilst showcasing the classic caricature of the femme fatale.

Dark Paradise

Strangely upbeat for such a sad song, Dark Paradise is great to dance to but also something that makes you want to cry. Lana’s vocalisations and dramatic lyrics don’t quite compare to some of her other songs but Dark Paradise is iconic.

Summertime Sadness

The slow-burn, emotional gut punch that is Summertime Sadness is always a classic and one of Lana’s best. Though it is far from my personal favourite it is absolutely an outstanding song and the perfect example of Lana’s most well-made and well-delivered songs.

Gods and Monsters

The strained Gods and Monsters is a great tale about the evil side of fame, which Lana never quite delves too deeply into but gives a metaphorical and mildly personal nod to. Gods and Monsters is one of those songs that has you singing along and feeling strong.

Carmen

Carmen is a beautiful, sad story that feels rich and luxurious despite its harrowing lyrics of an alcoholic star. The French bridge adds to the decadence and it feels like a dirty alcohol bottle wrapped in silk, from the tentative verses to the unnerving chorus.

Born To Die

One of Lana’s original pop chart tracks, this is a song that never grows old. It’s one of the blueprints of the Lana Del Rey era and deftly shows her vocals whilst setting the tone for the pessimistic, romantic star in the early 2010s.

Salvatore

Opening with laughing – or crying – Salvatore has an eerie feel to it, though it is completely erotic in feel (enough to ignore some of the simpler lyrics). It is a song that feels dreamy, much like the rest of Honeymoon, but passionate and reminding of some of her older music (from the vocals in the bridge that have a Lolita/Fucked My Way Up To The Top feel to them to the continued trope of bad boys and glamour).

Flipside

Dirty, gritty and quite contained, Flipside is a song that I wished had more attention. It’s not her most imaginative song but there’s something about it, from the gloomy guitars to the hushed vocals, that have me wanting to sing it over and over. It also is one of her great fuck-off songs, as sympathetic as it is resilient.

Doin’ Time

Lana really turns this song into her own with the summery instrumentals and the pop edge she is so good at. It’s surprisingly one of her best covers and a fresh-feeling track that isn’t bogged down by emotion or maudlin music.

Lust For Life

Breathless and oh-so-romantic, Lust For Life is one of those songs that was perfect for the charts, and a key piece in Lana’s turn into becoming more positive. However, as fun and lovely as this song is, the demos are a whole other ball game. A little more ethereal, they fit Lana much more perfectly and it’s sad she dismissed the witchy feel for a song that is brilliant but generic.

Love

One of Lana’s warmest and most refreshing songs, she looks at love with fondness and dedicates this track to her ‘kids’. She knows her fans well and to make a song that references them (much like Happiness Is A Butterfly’s nod to her ‘babies’) makes this song all the more pleasant.

The Greatest

Lana’s vocals are put to good use in this intimately-written song. She speaks her mind in her reminiscence of the past and the worries for the future, all with a storming chorus that is certainly one of her best.

Love Song

Tender and almost tentative, Love Song is one of those tracks that is romantic through-and-through. It’s stripped back enough to feel like it really is a private song for only her lover’s ears, just as confessional as Cinnamon Girl and Bartender.

White Mustang

Short but sweet, this song has all the makings of a Lana Del Rey song, harking back to the Born To Die days with her imagery and fallen love affair, but it is spiky enough to be part of her later music where she starts giving less shits. The whistling and race cars are a nice touch, displaying her play on words snugly.

Dark But Just A Game

Sort of jazzy, Dark But Just A Game is ever-shifting and never quite settles on a particular sound. It’s cohesive, however, and clearly states what Lana is thinking in a way that works with the rest of Chemtrails. It’s pretty sexy as well, which doesn’t hurt the enjoyability factor.

High By The Beach

The wooziness, the carelessness and the growth from a woman begging to be put in a movie to a woman who is able to do as she pleases. Lana stumbles and swears through the song but knows exactly what she wants – and it isn’t disappointing men or stalking paparazzi.

Let Me Love You Like A Woman

Some may think it much slower and more boring than a lot of her tracks, but I think it’s a tidy, sweet track. Lana plainly states her love, urges her man to run away with her and lets her emotions (and voice) do the talking.

Summer Bummer

Lana is as restless as a hot summer in this song and it works. Her brisk-paced yet soft-voiced lyrics and gorgeous imagery gets my pulse racing, and ASAP Rocky’s verse works well for it. Though it would have been interesting to get a full, solo Summer Bummer, Rocky adds an edge to this song and compliments his ‘lover’ well.

Groupie Love

Much more flowery and wide-eyed, Groupie Love is like a contradiction. Lana’s passionate dalliance with Rocky’s god-like star opposes the relationship in Summer Bummer (uncertain) but both are just as secret. Groupie Love has the edge of being ultra-dreamy and demonstrating pure love – and lust – without the messiness.

American

It’s a filler track that has potential for much more. It’s an adorable song, almost cautious in its lead-up to the satisfying chorus, and is filled with Lana tropes galore. Following Lana’s stressed Ride and coming before the darkly sensual Cola, American is a breath of fresh air.

National Anthem

What an anthem it is. It’s simply provocative and one of her most classic tracks. Mixing love, money and fame together with a bit of sex thrown in, National Anthem is precisely what Lana’s America seems to be.

Is This Happiness?

It’s muted, mournful and resentful, questioning a relationship that Lana wants to keep but at the same time doesn’t. This is one of Lana’s best sad songs, tearful as it is still adoring beneath the exasperation.

Art Deco

Art Deco is purely dreamy, a song to bathe in. The lyrics are a little bit simple but Lana’s vocals and the flowing, aquatic music is the perfect hook.

Terrence Loves You

Lana’s jazzy song is delicate, letting only her voice and the saxophone dominate. With references to David Bowie, Lana pines for someone who hurt her badly, but she soothes herself with music the way plenty of her fans do when listening to her records.

White Dress

The vocals were a surprise at first – high, strained whispers – but they definitely grew on me. Painting a picture of young Lana loving life and dreaming of bigger things, it’s nostalgic in lyrics but also reminds of some of Lana’s old work – her unreleased tracks where she would serve coke and fries.

Chemtrails

It gets better as it goes on, growing and twisting from a song to sunbathe to into a restless, darkening track. It has the best vibe for an idealised world with something a bit off, and the imagery of pools, jewels and schools grounds Lana into a (very, very rich) normality rather than the glamorous star she always liked to portray.

13 Beaches

Opening with a quote from Carnival of Souls, Lana takes High By The Beach to the next level. She goes from sticking her middle finger up to the paparazzi to simply wishing she would be allowed to live her life without them hounding her. It’s a matured approach that uses sound interestingly, with beeps and whines adding a strange texture to the song.

Cola

The controversial line was intended as humour, but strangely it works. Even if Cola is satire like Fucked My Way Up To The Top, Lana owns the ‘other woman’, the patriotic singer, the sexy and unashamed woman who says what she thinks without caring of the consequences. It’s an iconic song, even if you have to turn the volume down to not offend.

Black Beauty

The unreleased version is ten times more emotive, with its stripped back and lonesome feel, but the album version is just as good. The ultimately loving but unhappy lyrics are full of stunning imagery, and this is a song that would have been perfect with a music video.

Body Electric

Blasphemous as much as it honours icons, Lana sinfully owns Body Electric. The bridge is a bit out of place but Lana’s eyebrow-raising approach to religion and sexuality is genius.

Off To The Races

The best demonstration of Lana’s vocals, Lana plays the glam girl without a care just as well as the Lolita-type, needy lover in this ode to money and her man. The soaring bridge is stunning, and the swirling violins add an air of Hollywood to it.

Bel Air

Completely overlooked (in my opinion), Bel Air is an apologetic song of redemption, a shining and honest track that is as touching as much as it is hazy and tranquil. With soft piano and the sound of children opening and closing the song respectively, it’s set apart from Paradise with a pureness that Lana pulls off well.

Ultraviolence

Controversial at the time and still controversial now, Ultraviolence is about being weak, about giving in to love no matter how toxic. I don’t entirely support the lyrics but it’s a stunning song, lo-fi enough to feel uneasy and haunting. When you shut off from the lyrics, you get a simply beautiful track.

Pretty When You Cry

Lana’s imperfect, close-to-tears vocals are wonderful in this song, and she really lets her emotion shine through. The pained guitar and Lana’s increasingly distressed singing are enough to get you feeling exactly as she does.

Florida Kilos

Fun. Fresh. Freeing. Lana’s ode to drugs is simply something to dance to and sing, and she somehow manages to get the sunny feeling across even with the Ulraviolence-esque grunginess. It’s one of my favourite songs of Lana’s because it’s just so happy, which is a nice departure from some of her heavier tracks.

Cherry

Many people’s favourite – Cherry. It was my favourite of Lana’s for a long time, dripping with sex appeal and sadness but with a cute dance to compliment it. It had all the right stuff wrapped up in a tidy, compact box and the imagery is lush. I still love this song but since then we’ve had the ‘Cherries’ of her next few albums, Cinnamon Girl and Tulsa Jesus Freak. Like these, Cherry was a song that seemed set apart from the rest of the album and was a novel take on her typical music.

California

Simply for It's meaningful, raw lyrics – promising to be there as soon as he wants her, much like in Old Money – California is a sun-soaked dream with a very honest approach. Lana isn’t completely devastated, or begging for her lover to return. She is sad but realistic, and only wants the best for him. It’s beautiful and sad with a crazily addictive chorus.

West Coast

The shift from fast-paced, grungey, whispered verses to sprawling, drawling choruses – complete with weirdly sexy beeps towards the end of the song – shook us all, and it’s one of Lana’s most interesting songs. Lana honours the West Coast but also her man, in love with the music scene as much as she is with him.

Shades of Cool

The snide verses. The gradually growing music. The guitars. The explosive chorus. The nuclear bridge. The absolutely perfect timing and pacing. Shades of Cool is flawless, another Sad Girl but with much more power, emotion and music.

The Blackest Day

The Blackest Day needs more attention. Cold in places, almost lost, but then wounded in the chorus, The Blackest Day rolls with the emotions and is the kind of song that makes you want to fall apart and sob. Which is good, in a way, as it shows how brilliantly Lana conveys emotion.

Freak

Cult-like and haunting, this is the sexy predecessor of California. Lana swoons and tempts in this track, from her harmonising to her pouting “take it to the back if you really wanna talk” - not to mention the rest of the song in its entirely, all elements married together to create the perfect seductive track.

Music To Watch Boys To

Like Art Deco, Music To Watch Boys To is fairly aquatic and dreamy. Like Freak, it has that cult vibe (the chanting of the bridge). However, this song is perfectly its own, from the mix-up of vocal styles to the shifting tone (sad to smug to obsessively in love).

Norman Fucking Rockwell

What an opener. Norman Fucking Rockwell lets the actual singing and lyrics do the talking, the instrumentals pushed back enough to let Lana’s gut-punching first line (“God damn, man child, you fucked me so good that I almost said I love you”) and her blue yet annoyed insults to her Norman Rockwell do the talking.

Mariner’s Apartment Complex

It’s a song for yourself and for the people you love. Lana is strong enough to take care of herself, to be her own guidance – and to take on her lover’s problems too. It’s an empowering song, so distant from a lot of her discography, and I adore the nautical references and the hopeful message.

Brooklyn Baby

Satire again, but it still works. Lana plays a (fairly cringey) and somewhat self-absorbed, over-confident singer who is too cool for her own boyfriend, but she does it well. From saying how she wished people didn’t judge her, to the freedom the seventies gives her, to the warm guitars and upbeat tone, to the backup vocals of Seth Kaufman, Brooklyn Baby is a song to remember for all the right reasons.

Ride

Ride is one of Lana’s best, if not the best. With her devotion to America and her open thoughts about needing other people to make her feel good and happy, Lana knocks it out of the park with the superb step up from Born To Die.

Video Games

Video Games is just beautiful, plain and simple. Lana’s low voice, telling a flowing story of the simplicities of true love, are removed from her ‘famous singer’ image she constantly tried to portray and instead open up to the heart of what she has always sung about: love and its many forms, good or bad.

Get Free

The new take on Ride was a pleasant surprise. From changing the lyrics to show she wants to move on and be happy to (silently) name-dropping her influences, Lana’s manifesto was a personal song that we could all resonate with. The outro of the beach was the perfect closer to Lust For Life, and Get Free summarised the album which took her from sad girl to someone who could let herself move on.

Heroin

Heroin is no doubt one of her best. It’s tense and dark, referencing Manson and (allegedly) a friend she lost years ago. Lana lets herself dive into her worst thoughts headfirst, not so much dreamy as it is nightmarish, but still comes out the other side dreaming of marzipan and ready to move on.

Tulsa Jesus Freak

The third of the ‘Cherries’, Tulsa Jesus Freak goes straight to a happy place. Where Cherry was angry and Cinnamon Girl was cautious, this track dives into being comfortable with her man. It was just as passionate as the other two songs but about religion, sex and self-satisfaction.

Blue Jeans

Plucking guitars, crying violins and Lana weaving a tale about a gangsta who left her, without explanation, and the hurt that follows. Similarly tied to Dark Paradise, Blue Jeans is the next level of that, her tough-girl spoken verses dismissed as the choruses open up and she pours her heart out.

Cruel World

Lana is on top-form on this song, furious, maddened, sad, taunting – she hits every emotion with style. Lana grows more and more unstable as the song goes on, invoking images of a woman scorned and no longer taking that shit, but she still has a fragility about her as she comes undone that is tied directly to her Ultraviolence era.

Happiness Is A Butterfly

This song goes through many stages. She is unsure, not knowing how her lover feels. She is optimistic, elated as she tries to capture the butterfly. She is dismissive, no longer caring if she might get hurt – she loves too much. She is pissed off, sick of being treated badly. She gives in, simply wanting to dance and just be happy. The flow of this song is constant, a little messy, but it has the beautiful message pinned to it: to keep trying to be happy and do what you love.

Fuck It I Love You

I love the music video version more than the album version, the latter being more stripped back. Fuck It I Love You just gives in to emotion, acknowledging Lana is hurt, her lover is hurt, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him. She simply lets that feeling take over.

Cinnamon Girl

Cinnamon Girl touched me like no other Lana song has. Where Cherry was a mixture of emotions, good and bad, angry and loving, devastated and thrilled, Cinnamon Girl was about cautious optimism. Lana urges her lover to give in, and she knows – smiling as she sings it – she wins.

Venice Bitch

Venice Bitch just has that soothing, unhindered feel to it – and not just from the nine minutes of pure music and vibe. Lana dedicates this song to the kind of love that is just wholesome and homely, all whilst touching on her insanity, her ever-lasting love for America and the modern world (her live streams). It feels nostalgic yet contemporary, and adding the “fucks” and “bitch[es]” helps keep this song from being to sugary sweet but instead what it is – an honest love song rooted in the idealised and the realistic.

[willowthephotographer]

OTTAWA ICON - Prisca

"I’ll only know that I really left an impression once the people who looked up to me stop turning to what I have to say for the answers and start looking at themselves."

Prisca Mukula or @officialprisca_ on instagram; is a unique and daring woman. Prisca is overflowing with talents such as singing, playing the violin, trumpet, guitar, clarinet, ukulele, and piano as well as writing. She is also currently in forensic psychology at Carleton University. When an intelligent and creative person feeds their mind with thoughts, and knows how to appreciate them; you uncover Ottawa’s next Icon!

Questions

How would you describe yourself? Interestingly enough I don’t really think about the answer to this question a lot, anymore, who I am. I’m not too concerned with describing myself because

I'm so lost

I find it to be restricting and

Everyone’s perception is different so I’ll try to answer this in the vaguest way possible.

I’m always thinking about a situation, a song, people, what I can do next etc. my brain does overtime every day and I’m learning/starting to love that and use it to my advantage, and funny enough I use to think about who I was a lot constantly trying to figure out what my style is, what I wanted to do, and I think that’s such a trap. Don’t do it. As long as you act genuinely you’re already you. Did that even give you an idea of who I am lol?! Where do you see yourself in 10 years? 10 years from now I’ll be 28 and so I see myself as a 28-year-old living. I don’t want to put any expectations on myself but I know in my gut that I’ll be content in whatever I do because I won’t let myself just go to waste. I think the end goal for every artist is to be able to live off their art so I can say that’s in my future.  

Is there a song you’ve been recently learning, or do you only sing original songs? If you come over to my house or even just call me when I’m home a lot of the times you’ll hear me playing on my ukulele because I’m always playing something. Learning a song doesn’t really take that long so in a day I can do multiple. I just pick based on what I’ve been hearing, what catches my attention or based on what I’m feeling BUT I’ve been singing a lot of Billie Eillish’s song “when the party’s over” because the lyrics are so badass but with such a kinda calming melody. I love my ballads but I don’t like a lot of the current ones because it’s a bit too cheesy for me (no shade to any artist) with her music she has these almost disturbing lyrics but the beat is always so warming, I love that contrast. It honestly reminds me of Nina Simone.

As for my original songs, I actually have a lot and I sing them/ write them when I feel inspired too. I can write more than one song in a day just like I can go a week without writing a song. They’re all unreleased and I think I’ve only ever shown maybe 5 people 2 of my originals so I’ll see what the future holds for them but for now I don’t feel the time is right maybe I’m just being overly precocious  

Horoscope: Horoscopes are so cool, it’s a common interest that me and every single one of my close friends have. I’m a total and complete Virgo such a difficult sign and totally misunderstood. I just want to say Virgos are not boring..!  

Have you ever done stand up poetry? If so, where and when? (Share your work!) My first ever time performing poetry outside of a school curriculum requirement was at my school’s poetry competition 2 years ago since then I’ve performed a couple times at a poetry event called “tell em girls” organized by Maya Bassude as well as at another event that wasn’t actually specifically just poetry. I love performing that’s where I find I grow the most, writing in your room is one thing but testing out your material seeing how it sounds in a room full of people is a whole other experience. I recently found my kinda trademark/ sound when it comes to performing and I’m just now working on developing it, I’m nowhere near where I know I want to be or can be performance wise but I’m seeing the progress and it’s exciting. I’m thankful for that specific journey. Not to mention the amazing artist I’ve met through performing who I now call friends it’s an amazing atmosphere to be in.

Always happy to share a poem, this one is just a really short snippet of probably my favorite poem I’ve ever written I’m working on doing something cool with this… I’ve never performed it only 2 people have seen it so this is exclusive lol. This one is about loving someone who’s not necessarily ready for your love.

“Every single fleeting moment reminds me of you Like water flows Like water flows Every single fleeting moment reminds me of you Like the same water flow that runs down my cheek every time I leave you Only making me realize how much I don't need you anymore Realizingi pledged allegiance to a man without alliance

See I could never be his girlfriend but I was his lover

He looked at me like I held the key to the secret of life But only in public”

For any other poem I’ll usually have it on my Instagram bio or post a video and for upcoming performances, it all goes through Instagram  

If you were to pass down a legacy, what would you want that to be? I have a little brother and so I already feel this responsibility to set an example but I’m really unconventional so to me this feeling never transpired as I need to do good in school (which still holds importance) or get a fancy government job to show him what it is to be a good fulfilled human, it pushed a lot out of me. I wanted to be the most authentic version of myself to show him that he can be and should be exactly who he feels that he is in every way (dress, talk, act, feel etc) I think that’s the ultimate message I’m really trying to send, my legacy. Be authentic, spontaneous and unapologetic. It’s sooooo cheesy but it’s what’s the most important to me, you’ll lead a miserable life trying to follow someone else. I’ll only know that I really left an impression once the people who looked up to me stop turning to what I have to say for the answers and start looking at themselves.

Why do you think I chose you to be a part of my series “ICON OTTAWA” This question took me a while to answer because I was genuinely surprised when you asked me. I think you chose me because you believe in the artist in me and so that warms my heart, that’s the greatest gift an artist comes across, the people who see the artistry and believe in it. I think this question was my shortest reply yet not because I’m being modest avoiding giving myself too many compliments but I truly think it was as simple as that. My artistry is not only the poetry or the singing sound coming out of my mouth it’s everything, the intent behind the art, the feeling, authenticity it essentially is everything I make and do as a person.

The reason I chose Prisca,

After much thought and consideration, Prisca's ICON is Fluid.

running water she is in the air down to earth running ferociously falling with purpose and holding herself strong

She teaches us that even when the environment forces you to change and adapt, when people try to define you and put you in a criteria... WHO you are, is an embodiment of the cycle of life you naturally create. The personification of your being is something you need to have faith in and let fall into place rather then force into existence.

A big "Thank you" to everyone in the team  involved in making this possible! Looking forward to .03 of OTTAWA ICON

   Location: Tropical Greenhouse Photographer: Willow Lamoureux Photography / @willowthephotographer Assistant: Anna Pickles / @anna_pickles_41319 Model: Prisca Mukula / @officialprisca_

[sneakyjames]

sharp plastic ft Jalal Salaam (prod Fredfades) by Jalal Salaam an unreleased joint prod by the great http://ift.tt/1vekkuQ new music soon lyrics: Sharp plastic Nicked trying to open up the package It's smart to practice Do the studies What's the hurry youngin? Broken glass On the floor is a hazard Even the plastic was sharp That's the way they had it manufactured Curious as George But won't catch me with no monkey suits on Jumanji flashbacks Those times are long gone Apple got me feeling like I'm inspector gadget Arms can stretch long in case of Emergencies Where's your sense of urgency Connected through the Internet Wifi for the whippersnappers Twitter for chatterboxes Thank god they got limits on characters During my time we had landlines and dial up A pair of cups on a string was instant messaging The phone was a rotary You had to Wined it up no three dots waiting in the chat box Why shadowbox when you could spar with me ? I never spared a soul Even more so The ones I love They don't get treated special A man is measured by the things he does And things he's been through Only God can judge me God threw the stone how could it even miss you Having faith wasn't even an issue I'm getting tired of the current climate we need change No wonder we let climate change Happen to the environment Gut the fish pull out some plastic now that's part of their diet It's a shame how weakness Got associated with kindness Lame ducks want the fame They all fly the same I hear the birds can sense the rains coming They don't even have to Sing nothing It's their silence that gives it away you do not need words to communicate That's the truth behind this I don't even have to say What's a god if you don't need to pray? Life means nothing if you can't perceive it I can put you to sleep physically with the right application of squeeze to your arteries I'll have you counting the sheep Jumping like it be Money for cheap g Get more bang for your buck when I speak I reject the very notion of peaks There's always other higher levels achieved What's enlightenment to Infinite sets of degrees? Just another swimming fish in the sea There's so many I love them all uniquely In every way shape and form deeply How couldanyone reduce the shine The light gets brighter with each any Every rhyme scheme still plastic won't degrade It stay around for incalculable days And never goes away It makes whales Wash up on the beach Most the Sharks have nothing else to eat They say the earth will be left to the meek But really plastic is all there'll ever be They'd rather follow then steady take the lead There's plenty uncharted territories to see But now there's plastic scattered over the sea They say all matter's the same and that Everything will change but All This plastic really wants to stay Plain and simplewhen you die you can't take nothing with you Only oil byproducts will remain No one will save you And no will miss you Your kids kids will Never forgive you Look how we left this Planet in our wake Since the day the first plastic was made It's never been the same Still people smoke packs Of cigarettes on the daily And use the microwave To heat up plates There's not much more That we can all take This wasn't built for sustain Us ,It was just easy weight Someones gonna pay for this That's always been the way No ones skating Scott free Kids got moxie Until they learn properly Half life's and Elemental decay We've been so neglectful No silverware just disposable utensils Sharp plastic cut me deep Like it was made of metal ... http://ift.tt/2hyeVRO http://ift.tt/1mq7mc6 November 02, 2017 at 05:24PM

[noramoya]

by Denise Petski Michael Jackson’s Halloween, a new, hourlong animated special, featuring the King of Pop’s music as its soundtrack, will premiere this fall on CBS. Created and produced by Optimum Productions, the Michael Jackson company now owned by his estate, the special will feature the voices of actors Christine Baranski, Kiersey Clemons, Alan Cumming, George Eads, Brad Garrett, Lucy Liu, Jim Parsons and Lucas Till. The special follows millennials Vincent (Till) and Victoria (Clemons), who meet “accidentally” on Halloween night and find themselves, along with Ichabod the dog, at a mysterious hotel located at 777 Jackson Street called This Place Hotel. Once inside, Vincent and Victoria are sent on an unexpected, magical adventure of personal discovery, culminating in a spectacular dance finale featuring an animated Michael Jackson. John Branca and John McClain, co-executors of the Estate of Michael Jackson, serve as executive producers. Daniel Chuba is the producer and Mark A.Z. Dippé is the director. ****************************************** Many, including myself, presumed we were finally building up for the official announcement of the long promised Thriller 3D film project. Alas, although that was not to be for this go-round, we still have a project that is centered around a Halloween theme. (Update: Thriller 3D has been scheduled to premiere at the Vienna Film Festival August 30-September 9). However, the announcement had no sooner been made than a barrage of negative reactions swiftly engulfed social media. That’s really no surprise. These days, the announcement of any major MJ-related project is usually a polarizing affair, but this project, in particular, seems to have elicited a lot of strongly negative reactions-somewhat inexplicable, I think, given the overall benign nature of this project. Sure, it’s not Thriller 3D or Dangerous25 (a project that many were hoping to see come to light) but what could possibly be so wrong with an hour long animated special on a major network, featuring Michael Jackson’s best known dark themed works? Well, the answer to that question is quite complex, and to fully understand it, one must take into account how deeply divided the fan base has become over the estate executors and how deeply that issue of trust vs. mistrust has become, especially when it comes to A: Projects that profit off of his legacy, and B: How that legacy is being handled. As I have emphasized many times, I have always been and remain neutral when it comes to the politics surrounding the fandom and estate. Overall, I believe the estate has made some smart moves when it comes to preserving Michael Jackson’s legacy (This Is It, the Cirque du Soleil Immortal show and One) but also some major missteps. The controversy over the Michael album has forever tainted any posthumous music releases, and the insistence on “contemporizing” Michael’s music (rather than simply allowing the tracks to stand on their own merit) has not helped matters. True, they did manage to wrangle a Top Ten hit with the updated “Love Never Felt So Good” but, for the most part, there have been far more misses than hits with the estate’s attempts to ignite interest in a posthumous musical career for Michael Jackson. In a recent article, in fact, it was stated that there were no future plans to release anymore music from the vaults. That is a downright shame, as they are still sitting on a ton of unreleased gems that many fans want to hear. There is certainly still a market for unreleased MJ tracks; it’s just that fans want these tracks, for the most part, in their raw but pristine state, not over produced by a Timbaland or L.A. Reid to try to mimic everything else on the radio these days. I think it may be safe to assume, then, that the estate has not had a very good track record for its management of Michael Jackson’s posthumous musical output. I’ve said many times, if they had simply combined the best of the unreleased tracks on Michael (minus the controversial Cascio tracks) and the best of the demos that made it onto Xscape, they could have had a great posthumous MJ album. The tragedy is that, between the insistence on including debatable tracks (which weren’t exactly great tracks to begin with) and the insistence that every MJ track must somehow be “updated” to compete in today’s market, the estate has pretty much blown any confidence that fans may have once had in their ability to successfully market a musical career for Michael Jackson beyond the grave. And here we can certainly add that this shaky confidence has not been helped by the loss of the Sony/ATV catalog, nor the little matter of that 750 million dollar debt with Uncle Sam (which I will still be addressing in due time). However, when it comes to the musical legacy that Michael created in his lifetime-those seven adult solo albums and the many classic tracks they yielded-the outlook has been much brighter. Clearly, public demand for those songs isn’t apt to disappear any time soon, and it is in the continued public demand for those songs-as well as the continued popularity of Michael’s brand and image-that largely keeps the estate’s bread buttered. The estate’s marketing of Michael Jackson’s known works has been for the most part successful, though still occasionally marred by some questionable choices (for example, licensing the use of “Bad” for Angry Birds, a move that many felt reduced the track’s powerful political message to a silly rumble between cartoon birds). Indeed, these are the kinds of arguments and debates that continue to drive the polarization of the fandom over most estate decisions. Inevitably, some are going to argue that these decisions cheapen the message of his songs and will ultimately water down the impact of his legacy, while others argue-just as vehemently-that this is exactly the kind of exposure that will keep his music, image, and memory alive for future generations. Both arguments have their validity, and this brings me to today’s topic. Michael Jackson himself was an artist who constantly balanced the often polarizing extremes of artistic purity on the one hand, and commercialism on the other (Michael did love sales, and anyone who would wish to argue that sales did not matter to him is sadly deluded). This fact is partly what makes the posthumous marketing of Michael Jackson product a particularly challenging affair. The balance between “what Michael would have wanted,” “how Michael would have done it” and what is going to keep fans and consumers happy is a constant challenge. Even this aspect raises another interesting question: With the wealth of material and projects left behind by Michael Jackson that were completed-but have yet to receive their due-do we really need new projects that have nothing to do with him other than the lending of his name? Here in particular (especially since we are talking a Halloween special) I am referring to the short film Ghosts, a film whose re-release fans, including myself, have spent years clamoring for. As far as the general public is concerned, many are still unaware of this 1997 closet classic, which given the right promotional push and a little updated HD magic, could certainly still captivate a modern audience. Personally, I would love, love love to see Ghosts re-released as a major broadcast special. However, I do think that in all fairness, we have to consider the uphill battle that the estate is against. There are some factions simply waiting to tear down and rip to shreds anything the estate does, regardless of rhyme or reason. As soon as the announcement hit, many of the reactions across social media were viscerally over the top. Granted, I think much of the negative reaction has stemmed from a long series of gradually building disappointments over estate projects, but I’m just not sure that there is anything in the idea of a Halloween cartoon special to warrant so many hostile reactions, even if, granted, the announcement of the project may not have warranted such a major buildup. This post is not intended as an outright defense of the project-which, granted, could still turn out to be a disaster-but I would like to directly address some of the criticisms that the project has raised, and why I don’t necessarily agree with all of them. For starters, a point to consider is that this is going to be a major network broadcast, which in itself speaks volumes about the renewed faith in the Michael Jackson brand. Obviously, its target audience is going to be kids, and the plan seems to be that this might develop into one of those perennial seasonal projects that returns year after year. That will depend, of course, on ratings and the overall quality of the program, all things that have yet to be proven, but the fact that CBS is willing to take its chances and broadcast a Michael Jackson themed special geared towards children speaks volumes about how far the healing process has come in the re-branding of Michael Jackson. "

[alexi15s-blog]

Tupac

Tupac

 Tupac Shakur was one of the most dynamic, influential and self-destructive pop stars of the Nineties. The rapper's husky voice described his stark contradictions, setting misogyny against praise of strong women, hard-won wisdom against the violence of the "thug life" — words he had tattooed across his torso. The critical and commercial successes of his music (as well as his modest achievements as an actor) were continually overshadowed by his legal and personal entanglements. In Tupac's world, art and reality became tragically blurred, culminating with his 1996 murder in Las Vegas.

Shakur was the son of Black Panther Party members Billy Garland and Afeni Shakur (Shakur is Arabic for "thankful to God"), who was in jail (and later acquitted) on bombing charges while pregnant with him. Sometime after his birth, he was named Tupac Amaru, for an Incan chief whose name translates as "shining serpent."

Shakur spent his earliest years in the Bronx and Harlem, and at age 13 made his acting debut in a production of A Raisin in the Sun at an Apollo Theatre benefit for Jesse Jackson's 1984 presidential campaign. He spent the rest of his childhood moving around the country with his mother. He attended the Baltimore School of the Arts before dropping out and settling, at the age of 17, in Marin County, California.

The rapper then successfully auditioned to become a dancer and roadie for the rap group Digital Underground and simultaneously worked relentlessly on his own material. He appeared on that group's This Is an E.P. Release EP (1990) and Sons of the P (1991). In 1991 he signed with Interscope and released the album 2pacalypse Now (Number 64 pop, Number 13 R&B, 1992), a musical mixture of inner-city portraiture and messages of racial strength. An underground hit, the album spawned the single "Brenda's Got a Baby" (Number 23 R&B).

Shakur also became a successful actor in the early 1990s, appearing in Ernest Dickerson's Juice (1992) and Above the Rim (1994), and giving a critically acclaimed performance opposite Janet Jackson in John Singleton's Poetic Justice (1993). Despite a promising start and wide praise for his performances, the rest of his film work was far less acclaimed; he ended his acting career as James Belushi's sidekick in the mostly ignored Gang Related.

Shakur's second album, Strictly 4 My N.I.G.G.A.Z. (Number 24 pop, Number 4 R&B, 1993), yielded the hits "I Get Around" (Number 11 pop, Number 5 R&B, 1993) and "Keep Ya Head Up" (Number 12 pop, Number 7 R&B, 1993). He also released an album as part of the short-lived Thug Life group in 1994.

Even longer than Shakur's hit list, though, was his police blotter. In 1992 the rapper was arrested after a six-year-old California boy was killed by a stray bullet discharged during a scuffle between Shakur and two others. (A lawsuit filed by the boy's family was later settled out of court.) He was then charged in Atlanta with shooting two off-duty police officers in October 1993. Charges in both cases were dismissed. The following month Shakur and two members of his entourage were charged with sexual abuse following an incident in a New York luxury hotel.

In early 1994 he was found guilty of assault on Menace II Society codirector Allen Hughes and served 15 days in jail. By the end of the year, the rapper was found guilty of the sexual assault only a day after being shot by muggers in the lobby of a New York recording studio. He was later sentenced to one and half to four and a half years in prison. While his 1995 album Me Against the World (Number 1 pop, Number 1 R&B) headed to the top of the charts, Shakur headed for prison. Shakur became the first artist to reach Number 1 on the Billboard charts while serving a prison sentence. The hit single "Dear Mama" (Number Nine pop, Number Three R&B) suggested a depth of feeling that led some critics to reassess the rapper and his work.

By now Shakur was a lightning rod for a highly publicized West Coast vs. East Coast hip-hop feud. Shakur was released after serving just eight months of his sentence, the result of a parole arrangement and a $1.4 million bond paid by Death Row label CEO Marion "Suge" Knight. The rapper signed with Death Row in late 1995, soon releasing the dark, two-disc All Eyez on Me (Number 1 pop, Number 1 R&B, 1996). On the album, Shakur attacked his enemies with furious threats of violence, while speaking of his own early death as inevitable. The album also included "How Do You Want It" (Number 1 pop, Number 1 R&B), "California Love" (Number 6 pop) (with Dr. Dre and Roger Troutman), and "Hit 'Em Up," on which Shakur claimed to have slept with the Notorious B.I.G.'s wife, singer Faith Evans.

Then, on September 7, Shakur was shot near the Las Vegas Strip while riding in the passenger seat of Knight's BMW. The shooting came about two hours after a scuffle that involved Shakur and Knight in the lobby of the MGM Grand Hotel (an incident that ultimately led to Knight, 31, being handed a nine-year prison sentence for violating his parole). Six days later Shakur died from his injuries. He was 25. No arrests were ever made. In addition, despite calls within the hip-hop community to halt the violence, the Notorious B.I.G. was killed in a similar fashion six months later. No murder charges have been filed in either murder.

 Like Elvis Presley and Jimi Hendrix before him, Shakur was soon the subject of a flood of posthumous album releases (and rumors suggesting that he faked his death). The first release was The Don Killuminati: The 7 Day Theory (Number One pop, Number One R&B, 1996), released under the pseudonym Makaveli. It was followed by R U Still Down? (Remember Me) (Number Two pop, Number 1 R&B, 1997), released on Amaru/Jive, an imprint headed by his mother.

In 1997 his estate began a war of lawsuits against Death Row, complaining of $150 million in unpaid royalties, demanding the return of more than 150 unreleased master recordings, and a voiding of the rapper's contract with the label. A 1998 settlement awarded the tapes to Shakur's estate, which sanctioned the release that year of Greatest Hits (Number Three pop, Number One R&B); it includes "Unconditional Love" (Number 73 R&B, 1998) and "Changes" (Number 32 pop, Number 12 R&B, 1999). "Do for Love" (Number 21 pop, Number 10 R&B, 1998) appears on R U Still Down? In 2001 the fourth posthumous collection, Until the End of Time, debuted at Number 1.

With 2002 came another subpar collection, Better Dayz, a guest-filled affair that combined leftover verses and remixes from Shakur's "Makaveli" period. The collection did spawn one hit single, "Thugz Mansion" with Nas and J. Phoenix, and fans' insatiable appetite for unreleased Tupac material helped Better Dayz reach double platinum status. The soundtrack to the documentary Tupac Resurrection followed in 2003, with producers like Eminem and Johnny "J" remixing tracks from throughout Tupac's career. Eminem's production also served as the backbone for 2004's Loyal to the Game, a collection of unreleased Tupac verses combined with guest spots from the likes of Elton John, G-Unit and Slim Shady himself. Loyal to the Game topped the Billboard Top 200 upon its release.

To commemorate the 10th anniversary of Shakur's death, 2006's Pac's Life fused 13 more unreleased Shakur recordings with top notch production from Swizz Beatz and Sha Money LX. T.I. and Ashanti contributed to the album's most notable single, "Pac's Life," while Tupac admirers like Snoop Dogg, Ludacris and Chamillionaire also appear. The two-part greatest hits collection Best of 2Pac followed in 2007 with a minimal chart impact. In 2008, the rights Death Row's master tapes were sold to new ownership, and with it another batch of unreleased Tupac recordings were unearthed, all but ensuring more posthumous releases in the new decade.

[faithisaverb]

4 The Tears In Your Eyes & the gift of salvation.

Day 11: 4 The Tears In Your Eyes & the gift of salvation.

Prince is a unique person in pop culture.  There are only a few who have reached his level of legend, his prolific output of music (thirty-nine studio albums, five soundtrack albums, four live albums, five compilation albums, seventeen video albums, and twelve ep’s – along with reportedly dozens if not hundreds of unreleased albums in “the vault”).  He played all the instruments and sang all the vocals on several of his albums.  He played every instrument better than everyone in his band.

And he was super weird.

People who love Prince know he was weird.  People who don’t love Prince know he was weird. It seems like Prince may have been the only one who didn’t know he was weird, or even more likely, he simply didn’t care.  Prince was not interested in following trends.  Often times he set trends, and even more often, he wore things and did things that were completely unique – or weird.  

Prince did not seem to do things to fit in, and he had no problems with the juxtapositions in his life.  The most noticeable one was his faith.  If you listen to Prince’s catalogue, you will start to notice the trend that about half of the songs are about sex (not a surprise) and the other half are about God (huh?).

Prince had a faith that was complicated, but it was deep.  His faith had always been a central part of his life, but one that he never saw as conflicting with the themes of sexuality in his music.  Even some of his well-known songs are actually songs of faith “I Would Die 4 U” is about Jesus (sung from Jesus’ perspective).  “Let’s Go Crazy” is about the struggles that we encounter in this world, but the assurance of Heaven allows us to live freely.  His theology was a bit hazy at times, but his faith was earnest and assured.  He even felt convicted later in life to stop swearing (which meant he had to censor A LOT of his songs when he performed live) and even put a “swear jar” in his studio to fine people who swore in front of him.

Today’s song is “4 The Tears In Your Eyes” from the 1985 charity album We Are The World.  

Prince donated the song to the album since he was unable to make the recording of the actual song “We Are the World.”

This song, unlike the others, is a straight forward song about Christ’s gift of salvation.  The lyrics make it not simply a song about faith, but a pure song of worship.

Prince lived a life of freedom because he knew his salvation was given by Christ.  He lived a life that was conflicted and fraught with choices that we might question, but he was certain that God loved him, that Christ died for him, and that his salvation was achieved not by Prince’s ability to be righteous, but by Christ’s death and resurrection.

Jesus talks about dying to self, that the only way to gain your life is to lose it.  Paul talks about freedom in Christ, that losing all that you have “achieved” and accepting that God has saved you already, allows you to live a live that is a celebration of God’s goodness, and to love others as God loves you.

The death to self that Jesus talks about is a death to the idea that our salvation is up to us, that we can earn God’s love, and that our acts make us more worthy than others.  It isn’t, we can’t, and they don’t. 

Once we realize that, it could destroy us, but we also must realize that God has saved us in spite of that, as Paul reminds us, “Christ died for us while we were still sinners.” Our salvation is a gift of grace, freely given, already earned by Christ. 

Knowing that we have been saved, we are free from a life of trying to earn something, of trying to impress people, or making ourselves righteous enough to be loved by God.

Instead, we are free to rejoice in the gift of salvation already given, to celebrate what God has done, and what God is still working out in the world today.  We are free to bear witness to the ways in which God’s Kingdom is already hear, and to help others experience the community of the Body of Christ that we may continue to usher in the Kingdom that is not yet here.

Once we accept we can’t do it on our own, we are free to accept salvation as a gift.

Once we are assured of that salvation, we are free to live a life of gratitude toward God.

Once we live a life focused on celebrating God’s gifts, we are free to see others as God sees them – as broken people worth saving, people whom God loves right now.

Once we see people as children of God, we are free to love them, regardless of who they are or what they would do to us.

Once we love others, we are free to be in relationship with them and share in the joy and the faith of God’s love together.

Freedom from the worry, the fear, the feelings that we aren’t worth it.

We will still have periods of doubt, of confusion, of anger, and certainly of pain, but God is still with us, and our salvation cannot be lost.

Prince lived in a way that was free.  Free to wear purple blouses without irony, to wear 3 inch heels every day of his life, to sing songs that explore the mysteries of the divine and the mysteries of the human experience without seeing a problem.

He was a broken sinner, just as each of us are.  But he knew he was loved by God.

He knew Christ had died and was resurrected, and that victory assured us salvation.

Know that God loves you.

Know that God saved you.

Know that God frees you to love God and to love others.

Know that this message is for every single person that you meet.

May it be on your lips and in your action.

And if the elevator tries to get you down, go crazy – punch a higher floor.

See the video of today’s song below.  Click here to see the full Lenten playlist.

[lulu2992]

hi! i hope you don't mind me asking you this, but i feel like you're the most reliable source for this, haha. i saw that you answered an ask about john, explaining what to keep in mind when writing him, and i was wondering if you could do the same thing with jacob? as in, what characteristics to keep in mind when writing him and all !! i would seriously appreciate it a lot!! i wish you all the best and thank you for everything you're sharing with the fandom <3

Hi! And thank you very much for your kind words :)

As I did in the post about John (here, for anyone who is interested), I’m first going to give you a few links and facts about the Soldier! By the way, “the Soldier”, unlike “the Father” and “the Baptist”, isn’t Jacob’s official title in the cult, it’s just how he was called in promotional material (and by Dutch).

You must have played Far Cry 5 and seen the cutscenes already, but I’m still going to summarize his backstory and beliefs to try to write a comprehensive post. And in case you’ve missed them or want to listen to them again, here are:

His radio calls in chronological order (here, here, here, here, and here)

His sermons (part 1 and part 2)

The comments he makes during the trials

The audio of his two videos (“I own you”, broadcasted inside the Stone Ridge chalet, and the one with Pratt)

The message on the phone in the Stone Ridge Chalet

What he says during the final fight against him (here and here)

His Arcade lines

Finally, even though they were cut, you can find his unreleased lines here.

I wrote a summary of what other characters say about Jacob here (masterpost here), but you can listen to the NPCs’ comments here (cultists) and here (Resistance/civilians).

As for in-game notes, to my knowledge, only one was undoubtedly written by Jacob. It can be found in his bunker, Jacob’s Armory:

Dan Hay (Executive Producer/Creative Director/Writer) and Jean-Sébastien Décant (Narrative Director/Writer) talked extensively about John in a video for IGN, but unfortunately for us, the other members of the family didn’t have that privilege...

However, in a now-deleted interview for GameCrate, Drew Holmes (Lead Writer) said the following:

Jacob Seed, who’s the older brother, maybe doesn’t necessarily believe in Joseph’s message that God told him the end of the world was coming, but he believes in his brother, doesn’t matter if he’s right or wrong, he going to march forward with him.

And although Jacob loves his brothers, he reportedly doesn’t care much about Faith, according to the Lead Writer and NPC dialog.

In The Book of Joseph (which you can read here), Jacob is described as a protective big brother and an adventurous child who loved nature and “only felt comfortable in the outdoors”. He would sometimes steal candy for his two brothers so they “could have a bit of sweetness and comfort in [their] lives”. Their childhood was indeed miserable, mostly because their father was very violent. While he was “strong” and could withstand being beaten regularly, he hated seeing his youngest brother John in pain, so he started thinking about getting rid of their abuser. It’s unknown if he would have done it, but he never got to put his plan into action thanks to Joseph, who convinced him not to, and to child protective services.

The boys were sent to an orphanage and adopted by a couple, but they treated them like servants and “livestock”, even making them sleep in a barn. One night, Jacob had enough and, after waking his brothers up and freeing the animals, set fire to the property. When the couple ran outside, he also knocked out the husband with an axe handle. That led him to be sent to a juvenile detention center and separated from his brothers. There, he was “a bit of a troublemaker” and the guards didn’t like him. However, the teachers believed he had potential and was a good leader. At the end of his sentence, Jacob joined the army.

He spent several years (20, according to Dan Hay) in the military (the Marines according to the book, the 82nd Airborne Division according to the game) before being declared unfit for service because he suffered from PTSD. He then spent some time in a military hospital but was kicked out when he couldn’t afford it anymore. After that, he never received his pension (for unknown reasons) and started living on the streets, basically becoming invisible. Joseph found him “completely hollow” in a homeless shelter and only recognized him because he was calling his brothers’ names in his sleep.

Once the three brothers were reunited, Jacob “slowly came back to life” and swore to follow Joseph to the end. In the cult, his goal is to build and train an army so they’re ready for the Collapse, able to survive in the post-apocalyptic wilderness, and protect the rest of the Family.

In the game, he talks about the moment that redefined his life. During the first Gulf War, he and another soldier named Miller got separated from their unit because of an ambush and had to survive in the Iraqi desert. On the eighth day, he realized they were most likely going to die and accepted it, but “in that acceptance came clarity”. He saw Miller, who was barely able to walk anymore, as “an opportunity” for him to live… implying he cannibalized him. He adds it wasn’t something he wanted but something he had to do; his “test” (from God, I assume).

Because of this dehumanizing (and traumatizing) experience, Jacob came to believe that humanity was divided into two categories: the weak and the strong. The weak are not meant to survive, but they have a purpose. He thinks people are “meat”, “tools”, and expendable, so he doesn’t hesitate to “cull the herd” (his mantra) so only the strongest soldiers are in his army. He thinks society and modern technology have made humans weak and that people should return to their natural selves, like ancient men (who were an example of strength, to him). The Collapse will be a new beginning, but his soldiers need to be ready for it, which is why he obsessively selects and trains them, and doesn’t hesitate to experiment on converts.

As demonstrated with the Deputy in the game, Jacob conditions potential recruits using Bliss, violent images, and the song “Only You” (because of this scrapped idea) so they uncontrollably go on a killing spree whenever they hear the song. He starves them, keeps them in cages, and makes them go through trials to test their strength and teach them how to hunt and kill. He also expects them to “sacrifice”, as explained in this note (Grand View Hotel):

To pass through the Gate you must SACRIFICE something of yourself, to let go of the past and fully embrace your future with the Father. It has to have meaning. What is it that is keeping you here? What is it that anchors you, that prevents you from giving yourself freely to the Father? Is it your husband, your wife, your child? Maybe your brother, or mother? Once you have rid yourself of the shackles of your old life then you can open your heart to the Father’s voice.

He experiments on animals as well, mostly wolves, to turn them into mind-controlled “Judges”, more powerful and aggressive, and able to attack on command.

Like his siblings, Jacob has a strong personal philosophy inspired by his past. He basically makes the people he converts relive his trauma because he thinks it will make them better, fitter to serve the Project. He has specific goals but, as brutal as his actions are, isn’t cruel for the sake of cruelty. He tests people the way he believes he was tested, makes them go through starvation and dehumanization so they can revert to their primordial instincts, become warriors and be truly alive; reborn.

Jacob isn’t a very demonstrative man and is rather stoic, but I don’t think that means he doesn’t feel anything; he just doesn’t want/like to show his emotions (except maybe to his brothers). And as the eldest, it seems he doesn’t hesitate to speak his mind to Joseph. That said, while he isn’t sure if the Father can really hear God’s voice, he still has faith in him and is ready to give his life for him and the Project. In my opinion, Jacob possibly even believed that he had to die for Joseph, as his weapon and his sacrifice. He trained the Deputy so they would kill his former ally and main rival Eli for him, but I think it’s likely that he expected them to be strong enough to kill him as well, so the prophecy (and his destiny) would be fulfilled. As much as he told the Deputy they were neither strong nor special, in the end, he probably thought they were...

We don’t know if the traumatic memories of the war that would “surge up at any moment”, according to The Book of Joseph, still torment Jacob in the game because his PTSD is never really shown or mentioned, but we can assume it’s still there to some degree. It’s unknown where exactly his scars come from or what caused them, but he was most likely injured in combat. In my opinion, he also sometimes sounds like he has respiratory problems, but that’s never discussed, either.

To summarize this summary, Jacob is ruthlessly committed to his goals and convictions. He says nature doesn’t have empathy, so he shouldn’t, either. He went through hell several times and believes he only emerged stronger, so he thinks others can and must be hardened the same way to become the best, most primal version of themselves. He doesn’t fear death and possibly even expects it to come for him early, but it doesn’t matter because he would have fulfilled his destiny, and he has a legacy anyway: his army. Because of how strong and well-trained his soldiers are, he’s confident the Family will be safe, even after his death. Despite his incredibly twisted vision of the world and violent methods, deep down under all the hatred and trauma, it seems there’s still a little bit of that big brother who would try his best to protect his siblings and brighten their lives, somewhere, somehow…