#no matter if you’ve seen the show once through while under the influence or 100 times

[charmac]

ack sorry I was rude about the bathroom problem script I misunderstood what you meant </3 thank you for being a great resource for the sunny stans

No worries lmfao I was being crypto maybe unnecessarily but more for fun… trying to lure people to my blog… lol

But I promise my main goal here is to make sure fans have access to as much Sunny content and resources as possible!

That’s my whole motivation for this blog, after years of searching the depths of the internet for old stuff and running into dozens of dead links (why!! @alwayssunnyfxx !? why did you privatise/delete so many videos!?) and watching almost every social media site fall apart to bad AI search and bots, I want a place where that’s not going to happen (as long as Blogger stays in existence, I guess)

It’s definitely a work in progress, and there’s still a lot to come, to be added and collected, scripts included, but hopefully we will soon have a great resource and fun and interesting site for the community, and a place for great future content and, of course, Season 17+ updates :)

[hoedorokishoto]

Trust - Part 4

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

warnings - swearing, drinking, smoking, depictions of unwanted groping/manhandling

previous | part | next

Mei was right, this dress was the best choice. It was a deep red, tight against my skin, stopping mid-thigh. The flesh plump as it spilled out the bottom. It had thin straps and a low-cut neckline, showing off my collarbones and cleavage. The two features I believed were my best.

I paired the outfit with black strappy slip ons, nothing too fancy. Something comfortable in case I needed to make a run for it.

As 7 o'clock drew closer my stomach flipped and twirled with nerves. My brain still not comprehending why I would agree to go as Sen's date. Why would I want to go to a party on someone's arm, that someone with who I hadn't even really seen this outside world with. Our meetings usually being in our dorms late at night or the occasional trip to the school supply cupboard.

I looked back in the mirror, adjusting my silver jewelry and swiping smudged lipstick from the corner of my mouth. Giving myself a once over as Mei burst into the room, red cup already in hand as she slammed the door shut again.

"Oh as if, how do you look that good?! Bitch!" She exclaimed, coming up behind me and putting her arms around me, hugging me close, her breath already smelling like various types of alcohol.

"Party started early huh?" I said, turning around and accepting her hug as she slumped into me.

"I'm nervous..." She whispered, her mouth hovering over my ear as she stood taller than me, thanks to the chunky heels she decided to wear to match her tight black dress and matching black corset. Her love of steampunk carrying over to all her outfits.

"About?" I asked, relieved that I could help Mei with her situation and get my mind off my own situation.

"I think I want to lose my virginity tonight. To Iida. Like both of us, lose our virginity to each other, but I'm so nervous that I already had 4 beers, 3 shots and half of a cocktail." She said quickly, her face quickly flushing red, from both the drinking and her confession.

"Okay, that's nice. Why would you be nervous? Tenya has been your boyfriend for a while now, he would kiss your feet if you asked him."

"I just don't want to disappoint him because I'm an inexperienced little virgin." Mei said, dropping onto my bed and putting her head in her hands. I didn't mean to but I laughed, a small chuckle that drew Mei's attention to me, tears brimming her eyes.

"You are amazing, regardless of being a virgin or sleeping 60 people. It wouldn't matter. You are an engineering genius with a heart of gold. Tenya is lucky to have you and I know for a fact that he worships you. Whatever happens between you will be exactly what is meant to happen." I said, reaching up and brushing a stray tear away. A smile appearing on her face as she shot out and hugged me again.

"I love you." She said, and I flinched. Even though Mei would be one of my best friends those words had never left either of our mouths before. I tightened my grip on her and whispered back.

"I love you too."

                                                               *

My body shook, the nerves almost proving too much for me as Sen and I walked hand in hand towards the 3A dorm. The tall trees that lined the walkway seeming to close me in.

"Are you cold?" Sen asked, his hand coming up and cupping my face, brushing his thumb across my cheek. I shook my head, not 100% sure if I could form a sentence. Though the air was crisp it was nice, the cold always keeping me calm and focused. And in the famous words of Cardi B 'A hoe never gets cold' and I would take that advice to the grave, because even though I did have a jacket I knew that there was no way I was going to wear it and give up how good this outfit looked.

I heard the music before I saw the lit-up building. The music was loud and being carried at least a kilometre away from the hero dorm. The sound only coming across as a beat no actual words.

"Wow, looks like they went all out!" Sen said, his hand tightening and pulling me forward, towards the doors. My heart was beating in my chest as we got closer, my feet getting heavier as we got closer.

A body came into view, the body of a person who I knew almost as well as myself. Hitoshi was sitting on the second last step, long legs stretched out as his long fingers glide across the screen of his phone, lit cigarette hanging from his lips.

"Are you so drunk already that you've started smoking?" I asked, sitting down next to him and sipping whatever drink was in his cup. Almost forgetting about Sen as he caught up and sat down next to me, his hand resting on the bare skin of my thigh. Hitoshi noticed but didn't say anything, just raised his eyebrow.

"Nothing goes down smoother than a Winnie Blue after a few drinks." Hitoshi stated with his signature lazy smirk.

"You are so philosophical after a few drinks." I giggled. Feeling Sen's hand tightening around thigh. I couldn't read his face, so for a quick moment, I used my quirk. Feeling for his emotions, wanting to know exactly what was going through his head. I was hit with a wave of nerves, then excitement and then when he looked over at me and our eyes met it was love. I quickly stopped using my quirk and smiled at him, not wanting him to catch on that I had just read his emotions. I always felt like it was a small invasion of privacy. Being able to feel and influence people's emotions.

"Ready to head in?" Hitoshi asked, getting up and flicking his finished cigarette away. Brushing off the back of his dark jeans.

I jumped up and made my way up the stairs, turning around and extending my hand to Sen, watching his face light up as he reached me.

The atmosphere hit me in the face as I pushed open the door and let the lights, music and smoke hit me. The lights were dimmed and various strobe lights were hung up in the corner of the room. Students from all the 3rd year classes were all over the common area, drinking and talking. Some people already making their way over to the makeshift dance floor.

"Finally made it." Tsuburaba said, coming up and handing me and Sen a drink. Whatever was in the red cups was unclear. Without thinking too much about it though I sipped the drink and was pleasantly surprised to taste what seemed to be vodka and lemonade. Thankful it wasn't whisky or scotch or the god-awful homebrew that Tsuburaba somehow gets his hands on.

"You look great Nanase, how Sen landed someone like you we'll never know." Tsuburaba said, whistling in my direction and earning a swift punch from his friend.

"Thanks, but it's the other way around really." I said back, looking up at Sen, smiling, his face handsome under the low light. It wasn't a lie, Sen was too good for me. I was the arsehole who seemed to be leading him on. His face growing red as he smiled down at me, his hand cupping my face again.

"I'm gonna go see the guys. You wanna come?" Hitoshi asked. By the guys I assumed he meant Denki and the other boys of 3A, the host of the party. Oh so graciously opening up their dorms to the rest of us.

"Yeah, I'll come! I'll find you in a minute?" I said to Sen, already being pulled away by Hitoshi. He just nodded and watched me with a sad smile on his face. My attention being pulled towards the rest of the party as we made our way further into the dorm.

"So... Is it official?" Toshi asked, his hand on my waist as we made our way through the crowd of people. The kitchen where Denki was coming into view.

"No, he just asked if we wanted to come together and I said yes... Nothing is official."

"His face says otherwise."

"So do his emotions." I quietly admitted, hoping the music would drown out my answer.

"You used your quirk on him?" Hitoshi asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Yeah, I just wanted to get a quick read on whatever he was thinking, it didn't last long. I stopped nearly as soon as I started." I admitted, still pushing my way through the sea of people.

"Did you like what you felt?"

"Not even a little bit." I said quietly, dropping my head as we made it to the kitchen, feeling Hitoshi squeeze my side reassuringly. Knowing that I would tell him everything as soon as I knew exactly what was happening.

"Oh here she is! The real life of the party!" Denki yelled as we made it into the kitchen, his drink raised high as he jumped off the counter, walking over with his arms outstretched. I gladly hugged him back, squeezing his shirt between my fingers as we hugged.

I took in my surroundings. Everyone seeming to be having a good time. Glasses full and the music loud. The constant chatter of the party-goers filling my ears as well as the music.

When I looked across the dance floor to Sen he hadn't moved, still engaged in a conversation with Tsuburaba as they sipped their drinks. The thing that did surprise me was Shoto Todoroki, sitting on one of the couches lining the dance floor, Bakugo seated next to him. His eyes staring at me, not leaving mine as I turned around and filled up a cup.

                                                               *

Hours passed, filled with drinking, dancing and friendly chatter with the other 3rd years. Sen never too far away from my side. Throwing back whatever drinks Tsuburaba handed him. His nerves sometimes seeping into me with the help of my quirk. Nervous about what I didn't quite know.

Hitoshi was also never too far away, watching me and Sen intently, occasionally asking how everything was going. Hitoshi Shinso, ever the father figure. Bringing me water and making sure I ate whatever food Momo and Ochaco had made.

I stumbled over to an empty couch, in one of the quieter corners of the room. Not as smoky or loud as the rest of the common area.

"Hey nerd." Bakugo said, sitting down next to me on the couch holding his beer above his head as he took a swig.

"Take's one to know one."

"Hey! I'm not a nerd, you just looked lonely."

"Oh I'm sure that's why you found the quietest corner in this whole place."

There was silence as he decided how to respond.

"Fuck you! I live here!"

Over the last 3 years Katsuki Bakugo had became my friend. Despite his gruff exterior and foul mouth, I broke him down with my rapier wit and persistence. Claiming him as a friend, even if he denied it.

I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling brave in my tipsy state. Half expecting him to flinch away or yell. But it never came, so I rested my head and watched the party continue to unfold. Mina and Aoyama currently having a very heated dance battle as we looked on, the latter sending rays of light from his mid section for dramatic affect.

"So the big 3 huh, congratulations!" I said.

"As if there was ever any doubt." He replied, a cocky smirk gracing his lips as he looked over at me.

The big 3, three third-year students at U.A. who stand at the top of the entire student body in terms of strength. Watching Bakugo over the years, I couldn't deny it, there really wasn't ever any doubt. The future hero proving himself at every possible opportunity. Same as the other two students who took up the other two spots in the big 3. Ochaco Uraraka and Shoto Todoroki.

Without meaning to I blushed, Todoroki flashing into my mind. His intense stare from earlier carved into my memory.

"I'm glad you are still my Hero Support person, your shit is cool." Katsuki said, taking another swig of his beer. His face turned away from me. I knew he meant it, I also knew that might be one of the only compliments he every gave me.

Before I could reply I was yanked up and into someone, a hand wrapping around my waist.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Sen slurred, his arm keeping me against him even as I tried to get away. Bakugo was already on his feet, looking at me, trying to gage how he should proceed.

"Sen, stop. Nothing was happening! Let me go!" I half yelled at him, still struggling against his grip.

"You heard her dickhead, let her go before you hurt her, or before I hurt you!"

Sen didn't reply to Bakugo, or let me go. He just crashed his lips against mine, shoving his tongue deep into my mouth. He tasted like beer and sambuca. No doubt the cause of his current drunken state.

"Why can't - like me" Sen tried to talk between kisses, his mouth still squished against mine.

My head swirled, the room spinning as I continued to push against Sen. His grip becoming bruising as I fought. The noises of the room were fading away and the only thing I could hear was the drumming of my heart. Beating so fast and loud, drowning out the music and what I think were Bakugo's shouts. Tear's swelled behind my eyes as he continued, his hands moving from my waist to the swell of my arse. Grabbing and pulling at my flesh. His hands causing the material to ride up.

Without another though I bit him, hard, drawing blood as he pulled back.

"You always were a bit of a freak." He chuckled, stepping closer to me, reaching his hand out.

"Stop! Get away from me!" I yelled at him. Bakugo stepping in front of me and pushing me behind him.

"You crazy fuck! What the fuck is wrong with you?" Bakugo shouted to him, his arm still firmly in front of me. His shouts drawing some people's attention towards us.

His shouts seemed to clear Sen's head, his smile dropping as he realised what he just did.

"Y/N! Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" He said, reaching out towards me again, tears brimming his eyes. Bakugo stepped back and moved me with him. Out of Sen's reach.

"Why? I like you so much! What is so bad about that? Why don't you like me back?"

"You'll let me fuck you but you won't be seen in public with me!"

I opened my mouth to reply but stopped myself. Not sure how I could respond in a way that would help the situation. My head still fuzzy from the alcohol and the situation I was just in. My eyes and legs heavy as Sen continued to yell.

"Say something! Say anything!" Sen yelled, fists clenched at his sides. Without thinking my quirk activated, a flood of emotions hitting me all at once. Anger from Sen and Bakugo, confusion from another direction and various other emotions that I couldn't place. It was like sensory overload, everything hitting my brain all at once, causing me to sway as I stepped back. Needing distance from this whole god dam situation. Not bothering to answer Sen as he called after me.

The only noise I registered was the ding of the elevator, not sure what floor I was on as I stumbled out, holding onto either side of my head. Trying desperately to stop the noise overtaking my brain. Even though I couldn't hear the music anymore every emotion that was being felt at the party was currently running through my brain, the pressure almost too much to handle. Tears fell from my eyes and my throat hurt as I yelled in an attempt to stop the noise, or get a handle on my quirk.

I shut my eyes tight as I slammed into the wall, falling against it as I slid down and bought my knees up to my chest, still screaming.

I didn't know how much time passed. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? My brain couldn't comprehend all the information that was currently trying to be filtered through it.

I jumped as something cold touched the side of my face, someone's forehead pressing against mine, cold breath fanning across my face. A voice broke through. A voice I couldn't place.

The cold calming me, making me focus on the icy sensation rather than whatever was going on inside my brain. The cold becoming my focal point. Pulling me back to reality.

"Y/N... calm down, please."

I kept my eyes shut, the cold sensation still overwhelming me as I started to settle. My breathing calming down, regulating. A cold hand pressed over my heart. A welcome sensation, as I opened my eyes.

Shoto Todoroki's two toned eyes stared at me. No, not at me, into me. His forehead pressed against mine. His breaths matching mine and blowing his cold breath across my face. The emotions slowly started to shut off, the feelings fleeting as they left me. Leaving me with only my emotions. The soft pulse of the music returning as I regained my senses.

I didn't move from Todoroki, I didn't want to. His forehead and body pressed against me becoming my anchor. I feared that if he moved, I would plummet back down into the well of everyone's emotions.

Against my better judgment, I let a tear slip down my face as I clutched to his arms that were still boxing me in against the wall, his large hands still holding my face as I leaned into him. At this moment, I needed him. More than I had ever needed anyone before.

[soldierfirstclasszeldafair]

AN: Thank you so much for requesting! Sorry I didn’t get this out sooner. I’ve been overwhelmed with school and didn’t want it to show in my writing. Please let me know what you think. I’m a little rusty.

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Dante Sparda NSFW ALPHABET

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Dante is very attentive. He knows he just put you through a lot and depending on who you are to him it can differ. If it’s just a one-time thing he’ll still make sure you’re ok, probably get you some water, but will avoid small talk. He’ll wait for you to fall asleep before sneaking off into the night.

However, if you’re together it’s a whole other story. Dante’s very gentle after sex. He takes his time cleaning you up, not wanting to cause any unwanted discomfort and also to watch you bask in the aftereffects. Dante loves to hold you in his arms and lazily stroke your back, peppering you with kisses while whispering sweet nothings in your ear.  

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: Dante doesn’t really have a favorite part of himself.  

Yours: Dante likes to have a handful. Whether it’s your ass, boobs, thighs, it doesn’t matter. He just likes having something nice to hold onto while he thrusts heavily in you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Honestly, it’s everywhere. This man packs quite the load and he’s aware of it. Whether it covers your stomach or down your throat, he doesn’t care as long as it’s messy. Though his absolute favorite place to cum is inside you but that only happens once he’s sure he can trust you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He secretly has a Daddy kink. He’s not all that into having kids but call him Daddy in the heat of the moment and he may just cum right on the spot. Seriously be careful.  

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He acts like he has more experience than he really does. Truthfully, he has a hard time trusting someone enough to be that vulnerable with. He may have been under the influence of alcohol when he was with someone else but was never seriously involved with anyone.

Though he may not have much experience, he certainly makes it up with enthusiasm. He’s a very fast learner and has plenty of source material to learn new things. He does have his natural instincts with his demon heritage too.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves having your front laying across his desk, hand full of your hair, hips snapping furiously against your ass. He loves the view of seeing himself disappear inside you. Also, it gives him great access to your neck where he loves to sink his teeth.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

You get the best of both worlds with this man. He’s loves that sex doesn’t have to this serious thing and that he can have fun and laugh. He may bring out the cowboy attire for some roleplay, but the both of you can’t help but laugh at his fake southern accent. He knows it can’t be all laughs and giggles though and when he needs to be serious, he can be.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

His hair is the same color. He’s got a happy trail that leads to a decent amount of hair. If it bothers you he will trim it, but he prefers to have some hair though.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He may be a devil in the sheets, but he’s the one doing the worshiping. When he’s committed you’ll know it. Dante can be very affectionate and loving. The first “I love you” may bring him to shed a tear. He’s ruined every other man for you. Dante makes sure you know you’re loved.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s no stranger to it. When he’s not particularly interested in someone it’s not all that often. He does have to deal with his heat somehow. It isn’t until someone has piqued his interest it becomes more frequent.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He’s willing to try most things. Always makes sure theirs mutual consent before doing anything.

This demon loves orgasm control. It comes with the dominate nature of his being. He likes to hear you beg for him but flip the script and make him do the begging and he becomes putty in your hands.

He likes breath play but will never fully close off your airway.

Roleplaying is one on his list. He’s a sucker for need a pretty nurse to take care of his needs.

Devil Trigger Sex. It’s going to take a lot of convincing to persuade him into doing it. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you.  

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

It’s no surprise that Dante likes taking risks, so as long as you’re ok with it anywhere can be up for grabs. Whether it’s in a dark alley for a quickie, in the back of Morrison’s borrowed car with fogged up windows, or in the bedroom for something more sensual.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Biting him on his neck is a surefire way of getting him to take you where you stand. You just marked him as yours, so he needs to do the same.

Lingerie, he tends to rip it off so be sure to warn him if you really like it.

A simple way that can be hidden from prying eyes is to take his hand and putting it between your legs. Or just stroke him. (He may make a game out of it so be prepared.)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Inviting somebody else in is a huge no. Dante doesn’t share. It’s a fast way to ruin all the trust you’ve spent so long building. If you even bring it up, he’s already shutting you out of his life.  

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Dante loves to receive especially when you look him in the eyes while you do it. He’ll throw his head back and lets you work him over. If you denied his release he’s going to growl in frustration (in a good way) and if you continue to edge him, you’ll get him to beg for release.

Remember how I said Dante will worship you? You may have to tell him to stop because he tends to get carried away. He wants to hear you. He lives for it. He tends to get rather vulgar while he’s going down on you too.

If you’ve mange to get him to trigger good luck getting him to stop. His heated breath is going to have you so wet just anticipating his tongue. God his tongue. It’s barbed and should be illegal to possess something so deadly. It usually ends when you black out from overstimulation.  

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Dante tends to take his time with foreplay, making sure you’re prepared for what’s to come, but the pace quickens very fast from that point. There’s passion in his roughness. He likes to make a mess of you, having you say his name over and over. He leaves you sore in the best way.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

100% down. He likes to be fully in control for quickies. He pins you to the wall or closest piece of furniture, sliding your panties to the side and fucks you nice and fast. He loves it when he has to clamp his hand over your mouth to keep you from being a moaning mess. It’s an ego boost for him knowing just how loud he makes you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

YES, in short. If he trusts you and you him, he’s willing to try. There’s been many, many times where you’ve both have nearly been caught. You’d swear it’s his favorite pastime. And no, it did not stop him when you did get caught. He simply used his body to keep you from being seen, laughed, and kept going like nothing happened.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His heritage is both a blessing and a curse. He has more stamina than the average man. He’s a bit of a sex fiend. He likes to make a day of it if he’s honest, but it’s whatever you’re comfortable with. If you’re down for one round he’s completely fine with that. He’s going to make sure your both satisfied. Willing to help him deal with his heat? Great! Just know you he’s not letting you go far.  

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

It started out for you only then he’d became more experimental. He likes being handcuffed and blindfolded. You took the vibrator that was originally intended for you and strapped it to his cock. You’d never seen your devil squirm so much.

Dante doesn’t use them unless you’re with him. He’d rather experience the fun with you. However, he’s more possessive of you than he originally thought. Dante Sparda gets jealous of the dildo you have. He’s thought about throwing the damn thing out the window. He wants to be the only thing inside you, not some fake cock that can’t even compete with his size. He understands that you have needs when he’s not around, so he has to forcefully block it out of his mind.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Dante is the Devil when it comes to teasing. He’s got a vulgar mouth, a wicked tongue, and he’s pretty great with his hands. The smug bastard.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Dante isn’t loud per say. He more breathy than anything. That doesn’t mean you can’t get something else from him. He tends to moan when things are going slower, a more romantic setting if you will. Though if you do want to hear him, the easiest way is to start teasing him, making him grunt or growl in response.

His demonic form is where things get interesting. He’ll purr if he’s breeding you. It’s an eerily calming sound from such a creature. Though if you’re brave enough and dare to tease him in that form, he’ll growl. It’s a low vibration that you feel throughout your body and it sends chills over your skin. It quickly becomes a favorite of yours.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Dante didn’t realize how good it felt to have someone else run their fingers through his hair. The light pulling against his strands does something for the man. He prefers you to play in his hair after sex. It’ll help him fall asleep faster plus he let’s out the cutest noise. It’s like a light moan but not quite. He’ll soon start to purr the closer he is to falling asleep. If you play in his hair in the morning it’ll most likely lead to morning sex.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s above average in length for sure with a nice thickness. He’s got a prominent vein on the underside and he curves a bit to the left.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before your relationship he could manage going 2 weeks without helping himself out. He didn’t really have the time to whip it out when he was busy trying to keep the lights on. Now though? He can barely mange the length of your cycle.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s got this internal rule that he doesn’t want to go to sleep until you do or if he’s sure you’re satisfied. You do tend to fall asleep before him, mostly with your head on him.  Every once in a while, he’ll fall asleep first mostly when you play with his hair, with his faced tucked into your neck or chest with an arm wrapped around you. Dante to sleep deeply after sex so it’s ideal to get in a comfortable position before he falls asleep.

[k-pop-imagines]

Protector | Chapter 10

Protector Masterlist 

Summary: Yesterday’s events have your thoughts wildly racing through your brain and if that wasn’t enough, your father brings back someone you never wanted to see again. 

Word Count: 2472 A/N: So, ummm, it’s been a year, I know. But I’ve recently gotten quite a lot of messages asking me to update because the cliffhanger was a really mean move on my part, I’m sorry! Either way, happy holidays to everyone and I hope you enjoy this small gift from me!  - Admin Soomi Warnings: / 

When you woke up the next morning, your head felt like it was going to explode. The night hadn’t been exactly  restful, you just couldn’t seem to fall asleep after yesterday’s events. Your thoughts kept going back and forth between your current life situation trapped as the heir to your father’s business and the tension between you and your bodyguard that had made itself very clear. Donghae was a mystery to you. If that was even his real name. It wasn’t like you actually knew anything about that man. How old was he? Where did he come from? Did he have family? All you knew was that he was an arrogant ass with a lot of strength and wits despite not looking like it. He had a way of constantly getting on your nerves but still gave you a weird sense of comfort. Why did you end up with this strange attraction towards him that was impossible to deny at this point? 

You weren’t even sure what kind of attraction this was. Was it platonic? For the first time in ages, it seemed like someone genuinely cared about you. You felt like you could trust him and with him being your bodyguard, he naturally knew a variety of your secrets. He’d seen different sides of you. Even though you argued and bantered a lot, he knew when to draw the line. It had begun to feel like a friendship but was there more? Did you want more? Something else? There was some kind of sexual attraction as well, that was obvious to you. He was attractive, that was a fact. You hated to admit it, but your thoughts couldn’t help but wander to indecent things at the memory of how his abs felt under your touch. Yous shook your head in annoyance. No, not now. If you kept thinking about it, you wouldn’t be able to keep a composed demeanor around him anymore. Was there romantic attraction as well? Maybe. All you knew was that your heart skipped a beat when you thought back to how you had almost kissed yesterday. And that you wished you had actually kissed. Maybe all of these factors somehow played into it. Whatever it was, thinking about it too much and trying to find a word for it was driving you crazy. 

The maid that knocked and asked to enter your room to serve you a fresh cup of tea was a welcome distraction from your racing thoughts. Not so welcome was the message from your father that she brought. I’m expecting you in the entrance hall in 30 minutes, dress nicely and behave for once.    The second you read his note, you decided that you would absolutely not behave, whatever it was that he had planned for you. You had a bad feeling about what was to come. For a few moments, you also contemplated simply putting on sweatpants as your father hadn’t specified what occasion to dress nicely for, but that would have been overkill. Donghae greeted you right outside your door with a lazy wave and as much as your mind wanted to go back to yesterday’s events, you were more occupied with the look on his face. He didn’t give you the usual smirk, you didn’t even get any playful remarks about your hairstyle of choice, instead he seemed quiet. Too quiet. “What’s up with you this morning? Aren’t you going to tell me that I look like a racoon because of the bags under my eyes?” A small smile threatened to form on his lips but it was quickly washed away by the sigh leaving his mouth. “You look more like a panda because the rest of your face is awfully pale but I won’t be making any comments. You’ll have enough trouble today, trust me. You’re not going to like what your father has in store for you. And neither will I.” The last part was muttered under his breath and you almost missed it. You didn’t even need to ask your bodyguard what exactly he was talking about as you had already reached the entrance of the mansion and were greeted by the sight of the one person you had never ever wanted to see again. Hwang Kyuseok. The man your father apparently still wanted you to marry. “Okay, so here’s the plan. I’m going to pretend to collapse, you carry me to our physician and bribe him to pronounce me dead. Then you help me escape to Peru where I can start a new life under a new name. How does that sound?”, you whispered to Donghae but he put a hand on your lower back to gently lead you forward. “Pretty good except for the part where I apparently have enough money to bribe Dr. Choi.” “It doesn’t have to be money, you could-” just as you were about to present Donghae with the alternative of selling his body, Kyuseok spotted you. “Well, if it isn’t my lovely wife. I haven’t seen you ever since that incident but you seem as lively as ever,” the young man said with the most disgusting grin you had ever seen a human being produce as he slowly walked towards you. “I don’t remember us getting married let alone engaged so do not call me your wife.” “Did I not tell you to behave?” Your father had appeared behind Kyuseok and went to stand next to him. “You’ll be getting married next week, so you might want to get used to being called his wife.” “I have told you plenty of times that you do not get to marry me to a stranger. I refuse. I will not be marrying him.” “And I have told you plenty of times that I simply do not care. You’ve been acting like a brat recently, so I contacted Mr. Hwang and he agreed to proceed with the marriage as soon as possible. Maybe this will put some sense into you. You don’t have a choice in this matter.” Kyuseok is a respectable young man and he knows how to handle a woman who is acting up and forgot where her place is.” Your father left and your heart sank. He was really doing this. He was 100% serious and no matter how hard you tried to fight back, it was useless. Maybe you could really escape and move to the other end of the world. But knowing your father’s influence and contacts, he would catch you before you could even leave the city. You’d go along with it for now but there was no way you’d accept this. If everything failed, you’d at least make sure to make this marriage a living hell for your husband. 

Kyuseok stood in front of you and took your hand, earning him a death stare from Donghae that you didn’t notice, as you were too occupied with keeping yourself from lashing out. “Let’s go eat breakfast, my love.” 

------

“Where would you like to go for our honeymoon?” Breakfast had been quiet so far, at least on your part. Kyuseok had bombarded you with his ideas for the wedding and you found out that essentially everything had been planned already. Not only were you forced into this, you didn’t even get any say in what your wedding would look like. Even the wedding dress had already been chosen. “You’re asking my opinion? Very considerate. Paris sounds good.” “A very classic choice. And very romantic.” “Exactly. Let’s visit the catacombs, maybe I can lose you in there. Or I can just yeet myself off the Eiffel Tower when you’re not looking.” You heard a snicker from Donghae, who had silently been standing in the corner of the room and tried to cover up his mishap by clearing his throat. Kyuseok simply ignored you. “Prague or Madrid would also be lovely places to visit but Paris it is. We should also start conceiving children as soon as possible to secure a heir to our families' businesses. You almost choked on your omelette. “Yeah, that is not happening. Marrying you is bad enough but this is where I draw the line. I will not let you anywhere near me.” He sighed. “I really don’t blame your father for wanting you to move in with us right after the wedding. You are indeed quite a handful. But as I said before, I am sure I can tame you.” “Good luck with that. You won’t tame me unless I develop Stockholm syndrome.” “You’re feisty.” “And you’re a creep. Excuse me for a second.” You quickly left the room, headed for nowhere in particular, just anywhere as far away as possible. It felt kind of ironic when, after a few minutes of mindlessly wandering the halls, you laid eyes on a small storage room and followed your instinct to hide in it. Just in case Kyuseok had been following you. You were physically shaking from the emotions building up inside of you. Anger, frustration, helplessness, panic. You name it. You sank to the floor and let silent tears run down your cheeks. 

Maybe you should really just run away. Not like your father would let you. Even if you escaped at night, knowing that most of the night guards regularly slept during their shifts, there was no doubt your father’s men would find you. And if they didn’t, he would send Donghae, and there was nowhere you could hide from him. He knew you too well by now. 

The door to your hiding spot opened a creak. Speaking of the devil. 

Donghae fully opened the door, took one look at your crying form and opted to sit on the floor right next to you after closing the door again for some privacy. Of course he’d find you. Not that it bothered you. “I don’t think I’d survive one week being married to that weirdo,” you complained. “I don’t think he’d survive even one week. You’re gonna kill him after three days. Maximum.” A dry chuckle escaped your lips. “Can you show me how to make it look like an accident?” “I’ll lend you one of my handbooks.” Silence settled between the two of you for a few seconds while you tried to dry your tears. It all seemed hopeless. “What will you do once I’ve married him? I doubt Kyuseok will have you come with me to his mansion. That man gives you that death stare like every 20 minutes. I bet it’s because you’re more handsome than him.” “I genuinely don’t know. Maybe your father will have me as his own bodyguard. Whatever will happen, believe me when I say that I am dreading it as much as you are.” “You’re a bodyguard...if anything, you should be glad this job is over and you could move on to a better paying client. I’ve seen what my father pays you and sometimes I’m surprised you’re still here.” “You make me seem like a heartless monster. I care a lot more than you may think. That’s why I’m still here.” You raised an eyebrow. “How much?” “What?” “How much do you care?” Instead of answering, Donghae proceeded to get up. He dusted off his clothes and held out his hand for you to take. He pulled you up and reached for the doorknob. “You didn’t answer my question. How much do you care?”, you pushed for a reaction. “Way more than I should”, he muttered under his breath, avoiding your eyes. He went to turn the doorknob but you put your hand on top of his to stop him. Your other hand reached up to grab the collar of his shirt and pull him closer so your faces were mere inches apart. “Then tell me...do you care enough to kiss me?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, your breath hot on his skin. 

Donghae didn’t need to be asked twice. His free hand cupped your face as he leaned in and his lips found yours. They were so much softer than you could have ever imagined. He was careful at first, but quickly deepened the kiss when you didn’t back away. It lasted only a few seconds yet felt like an eternity. You hated how your first intent was to tease him with your question and see his reaction but the kiss just proved that, just like him, you cared way too much. You still didn’t know what exactly those feelings were that drew you to him but it just felt...right. Like it was meant to be. 

Donghae slowly pulled away from the kiss and took your hands in his. “I don’t know why but the thought of him being with you, touching you, kissing you...it makes me furious. It makes me want to vomit. I can’t stand it.” “Then help me get out of this somehow. If you can. Please.” His heart felt like it was getting torn apart when you looked at him with pleading eyes that were still puffy from crying. He wanted nothing more than to help you, he really did. “I’ll try to figure something out but I can’t promise anything.” For a second, you saw a hint of guilt flash in his eyes. You thought it was because of his loyalty to your father. He’d most likely have to betray him if he wanted to support you, it’d put his life on the line as well. Little did you know, Donghae’s thoughts were conflicted for a completely different reason. 

---

“There will be a wedding ceremony a week from now. Not only will our target family be attending but also the famous Hwang family. If we attack then, it’ll be like killing two birds with one stone,” Donghae reported. “That’s fantastically convenient. Do you know where the wedding will be held? If not, find out and send us the layout of the place. We’ll provide you with a detailed plan 24 hours before the event.” “I’ll make sure to get as much information as possible.” “Great, you’re dismissed.” After finishing the phone call, Donghae felt like punching a wall. Guilt flooded his mind. He had lied to you, this whole time. He had put on an act, played the perfect, sassy, but loveable bodyguard. He had faked his undying loyalty. Yet he hadn’t been able to lie about his feelings. That kiss, it had been nothing but the truth. He never meant for things to develop the way they did. And now he was stuck in this dilemma. He had to follow orders, your family had to be taken down but couldn’t bear to see you go down with your father. You had nothing to do with this. He had to figure something out and he’d be damned if he couldn’t come up with a solution.

[ardenttheories]

I don't expect a super serious answer from this, but I'm just curious. in a perfect world, how would hs^2 be written? do you have any particular headcanons or plot lines that would be interesting to explore? I understand the hesitation in answering a question like this, because other people might try to discredit your critiques under the guise of "well its not ur headcanons so that's why ur mad". anyways, just curious because I respect your perspective and ideas

In complete honesty? The first thing I would consider vital is a diverse team of people - genuinely diverse - to consider every point of representation with. I’m talking people of different races (to avoid the anti-black coding of Gamzee), with mental illnesses (to avoid the ableism in both Gamzee and Dirk), with different gender identities (to more accurately and healthily portray Jade, Roxy, Vriska, June - any character we could feasibly want to make trans or nonbinary), with different romanticisms and sexualities (so that we could write genuine MLM and WLW relationships without falling into homophobic pitfalls; to avoid biphobic stereotypes), and overall, with different traumatic experiences and triggers (so that we could more accurately gauge what triggers would need to be tagged and how to go over them in an appropriate and respectful manner).

We could never be 100% perfect, but with a team like that, we could at least get close to it. 

Additionally, I’d bring back either fan prompts or closely listen to fan theories and conversations. Homestuck^2 was touted to be written with the fandom in mind; to consider the direction we were asking it to go in, while basing it around a general barebones structure. I’d want to make sure we were including as much of that in as humanly possible. So, if a fan theory seemed like it’d fit into the story? I’d want to include that with the rest of the text; if the fans liked a specific character? I’d want to try and include them more often. Little things to show that we’re listening and that we’re writing the story WITH the fans - like how early Homestuck used to be.

On an actual storyline basis, I really do love the concept of Meat and Candy; that there’s one timeline that goes off the rails and one that is very rigidly stuck to a track. I wouldn’t want to change that concept entirely, but I would want to make it more palpatable for people to read. 

This would mean, for me, absolutely getting rid of anything to do with Yiffany. I’d completely replace that with Dave and Jade having a child together via ectobiology; how Jade has to raise their child in Dave’s absence after he goes missing, how that affects her, who she turns to for comfort and help. 

I’d want to focus Candy more on that feeling of helplessness and dissociation. On John feeling adrift in a world that doesn’t quite connect with him, that doesn’t entirely feel real; how that would affect his relationships, his friends, his family. In this timeline, all of the rebellion stuff would be completely background to the interpersonal connections everyone has (the things that supposedly don’t matter, as is the point of Candy), with much more emphasis on how useless and frivolous the whole war is. It’d get to a point where nobody actually knows why they’re fighting anymore except for the fact that they are, and that even Jane, who started it out of a genuine fear for the human race, is getting tired of it, is losing resources, is starting to realise that she’s drifting away from her own child. 

A truce would be garnered, started by Jane who just very much wants to reconnect with her son, with Karkat taking on the role as troll emissiary. It features long talks in a large, empty room, pouring over papers, where Jane admits that she doesn’t actually know what anyone is up to these days, how long it’s been since she’s seen her husband, since she’s seen John, and Karkat quietly confesses that it’s been several years since he’s seen Dave or Jade, and that he misses them both. 

After that, a lot of the content of Candy would focus on healing. They would get back to their happily ever after, even though some things would never be the same, and there would still be inconsequentialities. It would also correspond with John coming to the slow realisation that he really doesn’t need a plot to be happy at all; that just because it doesn’t matter to the overarching story doesn’t mean it can’t matter to him. 

The Candy timeline, therefore, would close early; it would fade from our view just as Dirk feared, but it would be happy and content, and free from any further meddling. I’d essentially want to enforce this idea that, yes, we can still have happy endings - even if they aren’t “full of meaning”. They can still be satisfying.

The Meat timeline, on the other hand, would have a significant focus on Dirk and his attempts to continue the plot. I think it would be fun, admittedly, if nothing went the way he thought it would. That after all of his villany and his acceptance of destruction in order to facilitate something he thought would be better, he actually just lost complete and utter control. 

The plot isn’t something that he alone can continue. It’s created with character conflict, with motivations and rises and falls and losses and gains; trying to recreate SBURB, to try and restart the cycle, isn’t what a plot needs to be. It isn’t what he thinks it will do. 

I’m unsure if you’ve seen this recently, but there’s been a lot of fanwork around the Lord!Jake English idea that went around several years back (when people saw the Caliborn sona). Now, this I’d want to put into it. 

Jake, fed up with being stepped on, walked over, hurt, suffering from the trauma of being completely and utterly ruined by Dirk, absolutely flips shit. He chases after Dirk to seek revenge, to cut short whatever bullshit he’s trying to do, and therefore much of the comic becomes this constant back and forth with an increasing fear for Dirk the closer Jake gets as he traverses Paradox Space.

It’s very much clear that when Jake arrives, Dirk will lose. There’s no question about it. Nobody suggests that anything else will happen. There’s several arguments on Meat’s Earth C over whether or not they should try to stop Jake, or let him stop Dirk - and whether or not Jake will calm down afterwards or continue his rampage. 

In the end, Dirk fails. Jake catches up to him, and just before he hits the killing blow, the entire thing goes dark. Our narrator dead, the plot abandoned; there is nothing more to see. This I would want to use to enforce the idea that, yes, plot can still be satisfying as hell and still have integral moments and be heavy and harsh - but it can also end in a way that leaves open questions because that shows that it isn’t the best ending you can get. 

And then we jump back to Terezi, using her Seer powers. Both timelines have been her trying to use her powers to See what’s in store, where she should go, what she should do. She’s still floating through Paradox Space, looking for Vriska, and as such she’s met with this... sort of internal dilemma. 

She knows, now, that the chances of her dying out here are high. She also knows that even if she does survive, she’s pretty much never going to see Vriska again anyway. She knows there’s a chance at a happier relationship with John, and that the only way she can get that is if she somehow manages to make a timeline where Meat and Candy merge together at once. 

So, she flies back. She manages to arrive on Earth C the day of John’s big decision, and interrupts him before he can go to the picnic. Through their dialogue, John gets it stuck in his head that, hey, there’s something BIGGER out here that you need to do, but you need to do that amazing thing again where you make a third Choice.

When John arrives at the picnic, he decides to eat some of the pumpkin instead - to which you might be thinking, what pumpkin? The one he put there, of course, using his retcon powers.

So we start on the Pumpkin timeline, written entirely in the 1st person narrative from John’s POV. It’s a completely biased interpretation of what’s going on, but it’s honest to John’s own thoughts and feelings, too, allowing everyone to act the way they usually would do without any influence, but still having a narrative touch. 

It shows John actively fighting to free the timeline from Dirk’s and Alternate Calliope’s narrative controls, those little hooks they’ve planted in it since time began, with a lot of back-and-forth as the two talk to John through the narration (which, he hears their voices as thoughts in his head). 

John attempts to free them both from their own biases and chains, encouraging Alternate!Calliope to leave the space she’s isolated herself in and join Earth C while convincing Dirk to undo the bullshit villain schtick he’s on (and that plot or no plot, there’s still a reason worth living for). 

It’d be a timeline filled with references back to original Homestuck (and funny quips from both Alternate!Calliope and Dirk along the way), a lot of morality discussion, plenty of theorising on narrative control and arcs and the placement of plot and fluff in a satisfying story, and have plenty of representation and romance and hints towards kids, too (such as nonbinary RoxyJaneCallie, DaveJadeKat, aromantic Jake, JohnDirk [because I couldn’t stop myself, honestly, with how their Classpects work so well hand in hand], and definitely RoseMary being the first to adopt a child that they absolutely do not call Vriska). 

It’d fill plotholes the fandom wants to be filled, and it’d have drama, of course, in the form of figuring out a way to destroy Lord English that doesn’t inherently lead to the Candy timeline. But it’d go back and forth between the heavy, plot-filled moments and the slower, relationship-based moments, with more humanising and development of Dirk and Alternate!Calliope and John as rounded characters.

That’s the best my tired mind can come up with right now. It’s something I’ve daydreamed about a lot, actually; how I’d rewrite Homestuck^2, or what my own ending to Homestuck would be using it as a foundation. I hope it makes sense! It’s a fun little thought experiment, honestly.

[supernatural---imagines]

The One I Want (Dean Imagine)

Could you do a one shot about when Sam looses his soul (him and the reader are going out) and he says something really mean to her (like he never loved her because she’s so ugly or something) so she runs away crying and dean finds her and he tries to comfort her but accidentally ends up confessing his love for her and then she realises she’s always loved dean and then fluff or smut ( Sorry if it’s confusing English isn’t my first language) 

Hi this is a bit long hope you don’t mind. enjoy. :) 

It had been a whole year since Sam Winchester got locked in Lucifers cage in hell. One whole year today. You and Dean hadn’t really been the same since he left. In the hunting sense. You grabbed a case here and there, drove a few miles to get to them but not like the cross-country gig you used to have going on. Most of the time Dean moped around Bobby’s house, getting drunk or going out of his mind trying to research the cage and find out if he could pull Sam out. 

Before Sam left, something had began to start up between you two. It started off with harmless flirting back and forth and had became a few kisses here and there and slept together once. It wasn’t a relationship, and it wasn’t even friends with befits. It was just...something. You were considering letting the secret out, telling everyone, but never got around to it. You figured no-one gave a shit who was fucking him after he was gone.. why would they? So it remained a secret. 

“I am so sick of this” Dean grumbled to himself, whiskey in hand. He sat at Bobby’s kitchen table with yet another lore book, searching for information on Sam. 

“Every time we think we get close.. it all just goes to shit. Every damn time” He spoke, shutting his book over, leaning back in his chair and holding back tears. You walked towards him slowly and squatted down on the floor beside him, gently taking his hand that was resting on his lap. 

“Dean, I know. I miss him too, we all do. Maybe you need a break tonight, try and de-stress. You’ve been at this for too long without stopping, your head is fried.” You attempted to comfort Dean, not that he ever took your advice, or anyones for that matter. Tonight he seemed to really take in your words though, normally he brushed them off in a “Im fine and don’t need help or advice” type of way. 

“I was thinking of maybe going for a drive later. Find somewhere nice and quiet to sit? Like the three of us used to do. Maybe you could take me in the Impala, she’s not been out in a while” You said to Dean, hoping he’d bite and you could get him out of Bobby’s for a while. You had taken it upon yourself to look after Dean, because it’s what Sam would’ve wanted. Dean was never ok with things like this where as you could work through them a lot better, so giving him a helping hand when you thought he needed it, was something you were more than happy to do. 

“Alright fine” He agreed, thinking he was doing it for you. He put down his whiskey and put the coffee pot on, thinking that one cup would sober him up. Not that him driving under the influence of alcohol was a rare thing, he almost always had some in his system, especially after Sam. 

About 2 hours later, once the sun had set and the night had completely fallen, you and Dean jumped into the impala and went for a drive. Dean almost seemed to enjoy himself as he played his favourite songs, and yours too. He was happy enough to just keep driving along, enjoying the moment and for the first time in a long time, actually relax. A smile beamed across your face, knowing that you were able to do this for Dean. 

You looked out the window and the smile soon faded, as you noticed what seemed to be a fight going on along the side of the road in front of a barn. It was 2 men against about 4 or 5. Dean turned off the music as he noticed, pulling over to the side of the road instantly. 

“Wait” You instructed as you tried to analyse the situation before Dean went charging in head first. You studied the bigger group of people they were growling, almost rabid. One flung a bald headed man on to the floor and hissed, showing his fangs.

“Vampires” You whispered. Dean practically launched himself out of the car and into his trunk grabbing a machete and running into the fight. He charged over and chopped off the head of the vamp that had pushed over the bald man. Another man was lying on the floor, fighting off two vamps. Dean got one and the man on the floor got the other, before scrambling to his feet. You had grabbed your machete and starting to run towards the fight when you and Dean both realized at the same time who it was you were fighting with.

“Sammy?” Dean said, with absolutely no time to process that he had just seen his baby brother before another vamp jumped onto his back. You knew you had to go help, but you were frozen in the spot. Was that really Sam? How did he come back? Who was that man he was with? 100 million questions ran through your head as you watched him, before Dean screaming your name snapped you right out of it. You regained focused and charged into the fight, helping the 3 men handle he rest of the creatures. 

As soon as the last head dropped, Dean ran towards Sam, gripping him in a hug while trying his very best to hold in the tears of joy that were teasing to leave. Sam patted his brother on the back, with a half smirk on his face. They stepped back from each other as you made your way towards Sam. He made eye contact and nodded at you, you kept walking and pulling yourself up by gripping onto his shirt you pressed your lips to his. He barley reciprocated, and when he did it was different. Every other kiss you’d had with Sam before he went to the cage was magnificent. Passionate, electric, and each was more perfect than the last. But this kiss, would make you believe that the man in front of you wasn’t actually Sam. 

Dean brought him to the Impala and did all the tests; holy water, silver. He passed them all. It was really him. You all got in the impala, after discussing with the bald man who was with Sam, that you discovered was their grandfather, that you wanted to steal Sam home for the night, the two men went their separate ways and you and Dean took Sam back to Bobby’s.  

You spent the whole night talking and trying to figure out what happened to Sam. He swears he was only out for a short time and was caught up with his grandfather which is why he couldn’t make it back. Everyone had a few drinks and filled Sam in on whats been going on, although he didn’t seem very interested. There was definitely something different about him.

It was around 3am and everyone decided to call it a night, Bobby going to bed and Dean taking the sofa, you had hoped Sam and you could share the spare room tonight together, but the response you received when you followed him in was not what you expected.

“What? do you want to fuck or something?” Sam bluntly asked as you walked into the spare room behind him. 

“Excuse me?” you were in disbelief that he’d speak to you like this.

“Do you want to fuck? or what? if not, you can leave.” 

“Sam what the hell. I really missed you i thought we could talk, just me and you. And then maybe later on... but i’m not some whore you can just fuck and chuck.” You loudly remarked at him, arms folded across your chest. 

“Look, maybe we had something starting up before we left. but i am not interested, y/n. I will have sex with you, i am attracted to you physically. But i don’t want to sit and listen to you talk, i couldn’t bear to have you as a girlfriend so don’t get your hopes up.” He spoke calmly like these words weren’t heart breaking. You thought you had really liked Sam, and thought he liked you back. Apparently not. 

“Well are you staying or not?” He pushed. Of course not! You stormed out of the room without saying another word, slamming the door behind you. You went down to Dean who most likely wasn’t asleep yet. 

“Hey what’s wrong?” Dean asked, he was relaxing on the couch nursing his last drink before going to bed. You stood in the door way, fighting back tears, looking to find some comfort in Dean. 

“Sam..” You spat out and a soon as you spoke your tears started, he practically leaped off his seat to rush to your side and guided you back to the couch where he nursed you as you cried. After a few moments you finally stopped, Dean asked you to explain what had happened.

“Before he went to hell something kind of started up between us. We weren’t a couple but I mean we were heading in that direction. I wasn’t even keen on it because I wasn’t sure if i liked him but he convinced me it could work, so I started to let myself fall for him. As i did, he died.” You explained all this to Dean, as he bit down on his lower lip to keep any emotion from showing on his face. He hadn’t realised it until just now, but he had started to get feelings for you over this past while. It wasn’t until he heard you say you liked someone else that it really hit him how much you meant to him. 

“So I just went up stairs to see if we could talk about us, and he basically told me i’m only good as a fuck buddy and nothing more.” You continued telling your story.

“You’re so much more than that y/n. Beautiful, kind, funny, caring. You’d make an amazing girlfriend to somebody.” As Dean spoke you sat up from off of his chest and looked at him, wiping away the last few tears that you cried that were still resting on your cheeks. Dean’s eyes were looking deep into yours and his words felt so real. He really meant what he said. You had been each others rocks whilst Sam was gone, and you’d be kidding yourself if you said you didn’t feel something for Dean. You pushed it down, thinking Sam was the brother for you. But clearly not. 

“Dean I made such a mistake being with him. He essentially told me i’m unlovable. And now I've fucked up our relationship too.”

The more you spoke, the more you realised that you were definitely barking up the wrong tree. Dean is the one right now hugging you while you cry, Dean is the handsome, charming man who always loves a good flirt with you, and makes you feel good. He is the one who makes you laugh the most. He is the one you truly love. It took him coming back to life to realise that you weren’t in love with Sam, you just missed him. You missed the friend he was before you got together, and you regretted that your relationship never got to blossom. You were mostly upset that he told you to let your guard down, then he went and died, leaving you more vulnerable than you had to be. And now he’s back, and he’s a dick, and you regret ever opening up to him at all, because it was the memories and dreams  that you longed for, not really him. 

“We’re fine y/n. We’re friends, you and me. You confide in me that’s how friendships work. Our relationship is fine.” Dean said with a heavy heart. He wanted more than that.

You took a moment to think, and to breathe. Nether you or Dean said anything. You sat next to each other, relaxed back on the couch now with arms linked. Both of you subconsciously wanted to touch each other. 

“I never even really wanted him Dean. He was just there in a moment when i needed a little extra comfort. I’d rather have someone who thinks i’m beautiful, kind, funny and caring.” You smiled at Dean as you quoted him, hoping he’d pick up on what you were hinting at.

“Really?” He asked, sitting up. You looked into his eyes and nodded, a small smirk spreading across your face. He smiled back at you, and butterflies filled your stomach. You started to feel tingling sensation and couldn’t help but spit out a nervous giggle. He let out a belter of laughter, feeling a bit nervous himself before leaning over you and pressing his lips to yours. He embraced you in a passionate kiss before you broke it with another giggle. 

“Whats so funny?” He said with a smile beaming across his face, pulling back only an inch from your face.

“I’m just glad i figured out what i wanted” You expressed. He agreed before tackling you down on the couch and melting his lips into yours once more.

[truthbeetoldmedia]

The 100 6x13 "The Blood of Sanctum" Review

Well, The 100 fans, how are we feeling? Tonight we watched the last season finale The 100 is ever going to give us (the next will be a SERIES finale) and I must say, this is perhaps the first time a finale from this show has left me unsatisfied. Let’s delve into why that is:

Closing Season 6 was always going to be a bit of a challenge. We entered this season with perhaps one strong “A” plot and a minor subplot. We walked out with approximately five more plot lines and none of them are ones I’d consider minor. It’s astonishing to me that The 100 managed to craft a finale that not only didn’t close a single one of it’s existing plot lines adequately but also opened up, quite literally, an entirely new can of worms (anyone remember when worms where a thing on this show?). Let’s run through the list shall we: 

Worm Number One: Have You Seen This Boy?

We start the season with the mystery of the Primes, and although we now know exactly what they are and the vast majority of them have been floated, we are left with Russell the Eighth and Priya’s mind drive, clutched securely in the grasp of a now brainwashed Jordan. If it wasn’t obvious enough that Jordan is “under the influence” so to speak, we watch the camera focus on his adjuster while he chats with Bellamy in the finale, proclaiming that he is fine even as he spouts out pieces of information that would make me question that if I were in Bellamy’s shoes. The Prime plot, which could have ended this season, will now make its way into Season 7, where the cult that we were introduced to in this final episode will have a more active role in disrupting the peace. I wouldn’t be surprised if a large part of Jordan’s role next season is finding a new host for Priya and I can’t bring it in me to be upset about that. 

In a season where Jordan Jasper Green was one of the most anticipated new additions to the cast he was sorely under-utilized. We listened to various characters recite Monty’s charge to do better all season, but they all failed Monty and Harper where it mattered the most: their son. Shannon Kook is an expert at bringing a Harper-esque zest for life mixed with Monty’s desire to live better and it was a promising combination and one that was lost after episode 5 of this season. While I understand the appeal of first love, especially when you’ve never met anyone who wasn’t related to you or one of your parent’s friends, it is frustrating to me that so much of Jordan’s why is trapped in Priya nee Delilah. It would have been far more interesting to see Jordan take up the mantle Monty and Harper left behind and become the new moral compass of the group, even barring that, I would have been more interested in watching this man-child explore a world that was bigger than the space of the Eligius ship. Opportunity was squandered there and we’ll never get a return on the investment we made. 

Worm Number Two: Prime Schmimes

Along with Jordan holding on to Priya’s mind drive comes the need for another host and I have an idea of where he might find one. As I’ve mentioned in my YouTube videos and Twitter threads, they don’t make people Nightbloods for no reason. You need look no further than the Griffin ladies to see that: Clarke, Madi and Abby were all made Nightbloods (born or created) to further storylines and Echo (Ash) will be no different. Although she was spared the privilege of hosting Simone, she is currently the only available Nightblood we know of. Russell is also aware of her status and in the finale he quite clearly states that he wants revenge. He may not be able to bring his family back, but all it takes is one mole in the works to help him achieve that, and he has at least two (Jordan and the adjuster — not to mention the possibility of all of the Children of Gabriel who were brainwashed as well). It would also be revenge for Ryker at the very least — his mother’s mind hosted in the body of the woman who murdered him. While Echo does have the neural mesh (she entered the City of Light as well) and has not been exposed to an EMP, we learned in this episode that Russell was careful to examine Abby before he put Simone’s drive in her — to ensure that there was no failsafe. It’s entirely possible that they can shock Echo with an EMP and implant Priya’s drive and further move Russell’s revenge plot along. After all it was love that drove Gabriel to create immortality, what will love drive Jordan to do?

Worm Number Three: Skynet? Is That You?

Some foreign line of code has managed to find a home in the Eligius ship’s hard drive. While trying to save Madi (and we’ll discuss that in a bit), they essentially crash the Flame, allowing them to remove it without the need for the passcode. While this is happening, Madi and the Dark Commander are fighting a bitter battle for control of her body. I believe that — if one isn’t paying enough attention — it’s easy to say that the reason the Dark Commander disappeared from Madi’s body is because they removed the Flame, but I’m going to hazard a guess that he — like any other virus — realized his removal was imminent and adapted to the situation, leaving Madi’s brain and uploading himself into the Eligius computers. 

What does that mean for Season 7 and how will we see him return? Yana Grebenyuk (@yanawrites on Twitter — make sure to watch this space for her finale write up!) postulates that we might actually see him in two places next season! As a rub to Diyoza, who laughed at Gaia teaching Madi how to control the Flame (anyone remember what Gaia says during this scene: “A mind can’t be in two places at once”) Yana speculated that she might actually be trapped with him in the, wait for it, past! We know that the anomaly deals with time and space and we know that when Octavia went in she was gone for some time. Now it seems we have an estimate on how long. Hope is at least 20 years old when she stumbles into the tent and she and Octavia clearly know each other well. As Hope embraces Octavia, stabbing her — much as Clarke did with Finn — she tells her “He still has her” when Octavia asks about Diyoza. Hope’s appearance is very much Grounder-chic and it would also tie into why we learned about Indra seeing the Dark Commander once when she was young. 

Further, with his consciousness now uploaded onto the Eligius ship there’s no limit to what the Dark Commander might be able to get up to now. Maybe this is the true beginning of Terminator’s Skynet. With all of that being said: it is rather disappointing that, even with the close of “Book One” a part of the series’ final struggle will still boil down to the Grounders. It’s been 131 years, two nuclear apocalypses, a new planet and a new cult system (the Primes) and we still can’t seem to shake them. It feels like the show should have been called “Grounders” instead of “The 100” for the amount of focus given to them and it’s disheartening. At least for me. 

Worm Number Four: The Little Whipping Girl

Clarke, my poor girl. Bradbury may be Bellamy’s middle name, but hers is definitely suffering. This season we’ve watched Clarke be isolated both physically and emotionally from the people she’d once called friends. We watch her put herself out there and have a bit of fun, only to wind up almost kidnapped and taken to the Children of Gabriel. We watch her die, fight viciously inside of her own mind to survive, almost die again, be revived by Bellamy and then realize that while she was dealing with that struggle, her child was losing her own mental battle, and then we watch her lose her mother.  

No one person should have to be strong enough to deal with all of that loss and yet Clarke manages it effortlessly every season. We know (thanks to Executive Producer Jason Rothenberg’s Hypable interview with Selina Wilken) that Clarke will be dealing with the grief of losing her mother as Season 7 begins. While I am grateful that she is being given the opportunity to do so, because grief is something that is so often rushed through on this show, I am also concerned about how this will affect Clarke’s issues with isolation. For six seasons now, Clarke has consistently been on the outside of the group looking in, due in large part to her status as lead, forcing her to be the character we follow around to each new location and each new group. Although Jason notes that Clarke will be perhaps even more protective of her family with her recent loss, I don’t necessarily know if the show has the chops to make that work. 

It doesn’t help that her best friend (script confirmed) Bellamy now has his own issues to deal with, which leads me directly into...Worm Number Five.

Worm Number Five: We Call That….Regression?

Many of you reading this initially found me via Tumblr or Twitter or YouTube, all places where a huge part of my online persona is my love for and defense of one Bellamy Blake. He has been my favorite character from the moment he appeared on the screen in the pilot episode and I have been in his corner ever since. We’ve watched him, over the course of six seasons,  mature, moving past the unhealthy relationship he’s had with Octavia since her birth resulted in both siblings carrying a weight they were too young for, growing into a man who left behind the self loathing and resentment of the past and stepped into the self love. If you’d’ve asked me yesterday what my favorite arc on The 100 is, I would have replied without hesitation “Bellamy’s character arc!”

I’m no longer sure I can do that. After the events of last season, which culminated in Octavia putting Bellamy in the pit alongside Gaia and Indra and forcing them to fight to their possible deaths, burning the farm Monty cultivated and then forcing her people into battle out of necessity, it seemed as if Bellamy was finally ready to separate from the lifelong co-dependent relationship he shared with Octavia. The Season 6 finale has appeared to effectively erase that growth in one fell swoop. Just a few episodes ago we listened as Bellamy told Octavia she was still his sister, but she could no longer be his responsibility and this episode we watched as Octavia was stabbed and misted right out of Bellamy’s arms and into the anomaly. The season ends with Bellamy calling Octavia’s name as the anomaly recedes once more. 

In post-finale interviews (again see Selina’s Hypable link above) Jason is clear that finding Octavia is a huge part of Bellamy’s drive in Season 7 (going so far as to compare it to Bellamy’s desire to save Clarke in Season 6), and while I can admire, respect and even understand a brother’s desire to find a lost sibling, it’s a huge walkback (literally almost 360 degrees) on Bellamy’s arc since Season 1. What is the point of watching a show, seeing its characters evolve and grow and change and mature if, in the final season, we watch them revert back to who they were in the pilot episode? Will Clarke always be a girl who’s lost a parent abandoned on a new world? Will Bellamy always be nothing more than his sister’s keeper? Will Octavia always be hidden away somewhere? People aren’t watching television shows to see characters wind up where they began. We watch for the hope that our current situations (whatever those may be) won’t last forever. That growth can be permanent, that who we are now doesn’t have to define who we become, but as we head into Season 7, I’m not entirely convinced The 100 is aware of that. 

Worm Number Six: Madi’s Mad as a Hatter...or is She?

Madi’s plot is perhaps the only one that was wrapped up (even as the Dark Commander clearly continues his nefarious deeds elsewhere) but it was done so haphazardly I was left unsatisfied. We have watched Madi deal with the Dark Commander in her head all season, we’ve watched as she’s slowly folded under his control and we watched her break when it’s revealed that Clarke is dead. It does make sense that learning Clarke is alive would bring her back. What doesn’t make sense is how swiftly that’s dealt with. It took the Dark Commander days or weeks (I’m unsure of Season 6’s timeline right now) to successfully set up a home in Madi’s brain and simply seeing Clarke threaten suicide (and also — what a message to send to...lots of people...I understand that Clarke went through a lot this season, but even with the loss of your mother, even with the potential loss of your daughter, you can still fight) was enough to snap his hold on Madi almost immediately. 

It’s not realistic. I can understand the need to bring Madi back into the picture, but I think it might have played a bit better if the struggle was more prolonged, perhaps even something they needed to put her back into cryo until next season to discover. Unfortunately the choice was made, and a plot line that bit significantly into others ended with extreme prejudice in about two seconds flat. 

Worm Number Seven: Make it Make Sense

(The above image is NOT edited.) The constant will they, won’t they of Bellamy and Clarke’s relationship needs to end now. Even as Jason tells fans that we (as a collective unit) all misunderstood what Bellamy’s drive was in saving Clarke (again see the Hypable interview linked above), he tells EW that "There were a few seasons in the middle of the run where we didn't know, we legitimately were on the bubble and were always trying to engineer something that could possibly be a series ender and a season ender, you know? I have for a while known thematically and like you say, in a general way, what I want the ending to be. I knew what I wanted it to feel like, I knew what I wanted it to say."  

When you look back on the middle season finales (which for a seven season run would be Seasons 3-5) Jason has been crafting a very clear endgame, and that endgame is Bellamy and Clarke, together, facing their next adventure. 

Season 3 ends with Bellamy and Clarke, in the  Polis throne room, standing in front of Lexa's throne. They are united (literally touching), watching their people recover from the effects of ALIE, some wounded (like Jaha), others embracing the people they love (Kabby, Briller, Memori). Clarke delivers the news about the reactors melting down, that they haven't won just yet, and then Octavia kills Pike and walks away. Season 3 ends with Bellamy and Clarke — together — preparing to face their next challenge. 

The Season 4 finale is a bit more ambiguous, because Bellamy and Clarke are physically separated but the notes are still there. We come into Clarke making a radio call and she is speaking to Bellamy specifically. She says "I still have hope" — that call back to the "You still have hope?/We still breathing" moment that sent the Bellarke fandom into ecstatic spirals of joy and — as a ship bursts through the atmosphere — Clarke stands, her breathing quickens, she smiles and she says "Never mind, I see you" and "I See You" (Confirmed by Tree Adams to be written for and about Bellarke), plays in the background.

Even as we watch Clarke's joy turn into apprehension when she realizes that's NOT Becca's rocket and instead says prisoner transport — if the series had ended here, in this moment — it's possible that it could have been Bellamy (and the others) walking off of the Eligius ship and in fact, that was the most common theory during the hiatus: that Bellamy and the others had joined up with the Eligius crew to combat the fuel issue, which wasn't far off. The series would have ended on the assumption that it was Bellamy walking off of that ship, reunited with Clarke and together again, facing the challenge of repopulating a barren Earth (after they dug out the bunker of course) and because we didn't have any updates on the Space Squad until Season 5 premiered, we also would have been left without the knowledge that Bellamy and Ash (aka Echo) were a thing. 

Season 5 ends with Bellamy pulling Clarke into his side, both crying, both leaning on each other (with Jordan in the background) united and about to take on this journey (the discovery of a new planet) — together — again. And yes, I know a lot of people were upset about this ending because Bellamy and Ash/Echo were still a "couple", but again, I want to point you back to Jason saying that he was writing these as series finales and he knew what he wanted those finales to feel like and what he wanted them to say.

The theme of the Season 3-5 finales has always been "Bellamy and Clarke, together, facing the next adventure." and the feeling has always been that Bellamy and Clarke and their relationship to one another are the center of the story, that if the story ends here, Bellamy and Clarke are together. I'd even go so far as to say that the theme of Season 4 and Season 5's finales specifically has been about hope and renewal. The opportunity to do and be better in a "new" place. 

And that’s fine and dandy. What’s not fine is when this relationship is deliberately given romantic beats, framing and lines in an effort to draw or retain an audience with no payoff. Again, people are not watching television for the never before seen plot twists. People watch television for the characters. They stay for the characters. Friends is one of the most successful shows of all time on the strength of the relationships it showcased as an example, and the same can be said for many other great shows. It’s when showrunners forget that, believing that the story they are so desperate to tell is more important than the audience who have given them the ability to tell that story, that everyone suffers. One need look no further than the recent endings of Game of Thrones and Veronica Mars for evidence of that. 

Make the story clear. Make it plain. Your audience deserves that. 

In conclusion, The 100 season finales work better when they are written as series finales. Given the knowledge that he would have one more season to close out the show the way he wants to, Rothenberg leaned too far into the chaos of Episode 12 (“Adjustment Protocol”) and left audiences with a bitter, unfinished taste in their mouths. With only 16 episodes left to satisfactorily wrap up all of the arcs he opened or left open this season, I’m not convinced we won’t be seeing a repeat of Game of Thrones. 

April’s episode rating: 🐝.5

P.S. A Good Worm: 

If you’re like me and you need something to look forward to as we enter the long hiatus before the final season of The 100, think about making your way to Conageddon! Located in Boston, Massachusetts, and this year held on April 3rd-5th,  it is The 100’s only American convention and as someone who’s been before (and will be back) it’s a weekend packed with fun and friends. Tickets haven’t gone on sale just yet, but make sure you watch this space for more information, including cast information and ticket pricing!

[idioticimagination]

The Queen of The Sky | The 100 | Part 14

Request Here!

Pairing: Bellamy x Reader Rating: M (Mentions of murder, blood, and violence) Fandom: The 100 Word Count: 2,939 Summary: Three years ago Y/N, queen of the tribe known as the Ladrones, was sent to the ground as punishment for her crimes. Now the dropship has just arrived along with 100 delinquents. Among which there are many familiar faces. Several stories to be told. Will Y/N’s dark past unravel for all to see? Will her secrets finally be shared with the world? Will the queen of the sky cause sunny days or stormy nights? Is she a villain? Or just the goddess they needed?

(A/N: I’M SO SORRY!!! I HAD WRITERS BLOCK for like six months BUT I HAVE INSPIRATION AGAIN but I’m also gonna be really busy because the inspiration is coming from personal problems that I should really be solving BUT I WILL TRY TO UPDATE MORE! AND I’M VERY SORRY!😖😖😖😖 THE NEXT FEW PARTS ARE ALREADY OUTLINED AND PLANNED BUT I’M PROBABLY GOING TO BE POSTING THE REQUESTS I HAVE PILED UP from like six months ago BEFORE FINISHING THE FIRST SEASON OF THIS SERIES BUT DO EXPECT MORE FROM ME hopefully)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

I was escorted back to the city by Kai, who was in front of me, and two more guards who were behind me. Due to the fact that he was the general, Kai was obligated to return as well. I still had the mask on; I was not allowed to take it off until we were within the city walls. The City of Eclipsa was hidden behind a mountain range that eventually lead to a cliff. The mountains surrounded the city offering a natural wall of defense, but Nova, the oh so paranoid, insisted we build another wall around the city. It traced along the mountain range and offered an easier route for the patrol guards, as well as built in areas, to hold the weapons and signal fires.

We had been travelling for quite some time, luckily no attacks had happened so far. We left before sunrise, and as we finally approached the city, the sun was beginning to set. Kai raised his shield, sending a signal to the guards as he waved his arm in the air, the shield proudly showing our city emblem. The gates opened as the patrol guards yelled out commands and declarations.

We walked in to be welcomed by crowds of people lining the streets as they cheered for the return of their queen and general. I straightened out my back and held my head high as we rode our horses through the crowded streets as the citizens of Eclipsa made way for their beloved monarch. I smiled and waved, hoping that the exhaustion I felt could not be seen. I was their queen. They had to believe that I was strong, that I could withstand anything. 

As the castle gates opened up for us, a sigh of relief left my lips. The metal gates shut closed as a loud slamming of the iron lock could be heard. A silence surrounded us, an obvious contrast to the screaming and cheers that could still be faintly heard from outside the walls that surrounded the castle. Now all that pierced through the quiet was the trotting of the horses. 

I rubbed at my eyes, trying to keep them open as my drowsiness overwhelmed me. As my head began to hang low, I was suddenly jolted upright when I heard the doors to the castle begin to creak open. A familiar blur of a woman in her usual green dress awaited us. She began to descend from the stairs as the troops and I got off our horses. She hugged Kai first, hesitant to let go before she made her way over to me. Her arms wrapped around my neck as I hugged her waist with my one free arm, the other still holding on to my horse. “I missed you too, Nova,” I smiled as she finally let go of me. 

As I walked through the castle I began to remove the armour on my body. First I took off my cloak. Next the metal plates that covered my legs below the knee. After, I took my combat boots off, placing it into the arms of the servant that followed behind me, picking up after my mess of undressing. Next were the cuffs of metal that extended across my forearm acting as a shield in battle.  

After I slammed the door to my personal chambers closed, I took off the chest plate and battle skirt only to reopen the door to toss them towards the servant. “Thank you,” I said before I slammed the door shut again and jumped onto my comfy awaiting bed. I threw the stupid mask across the room, a loud thud notifying me that it had hit a wall. I allowed my eyes to droop close, telling myself it was just to rest my eyes, but I knew I’d most likely fall asleep.

I groaned as I heard my door open and close, already knowing who it was. “Did you miss it?” Nova asked nodding her head towards the bed. I smiled and nodded as I cuddled into the pillows and fluffy sheets once more. “Then perhaps you wouldn’t be too fond of leaving it behind,” she laughed. I opened one eye to look at her, slightly lifting my head off of my comfy, fluffy, beloved pillow. “Perhaps it may be easier for you to stay?” Nova suggests in an unsure tone. 

I glared at her. While it was true that I missed my comfy bed after several nights of switching between cots, hammocks, and tree branches, I was not a fan of what she hinted towards. “Being queen not as easy as you thought? From all that yelling, scolding, and arguing you’ve done while I was the one on the throne, I would have thought that you would be a great, if not magnificent queen,” I teased with a smug smile evident on my face. “I’m not staying,” I said.

“You don’t know that,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, and the fact that her statement was true concerned me.

I sat up from my bed, leaning against my forearms as I glared at her from across the room. “Do you plan on making me stay?” I asked. She simply let out a soft chuckle before leaving. Wanting an answer, I called out to her as she closed the door. The door shut with a click as I threw my head back onto the mattress, deciding an answer wasn’t worth getting up. Not long after, I fell asleep. 

I thought I would fall asleep again as I sat through the council meeting. The council meetings were my idea when we had first became a united people. It was a way to make sure the city is running smoothly and advise each other if anyone were in need of aid. The city entirely was under my rule, but with how enormous it had become there was no way I could rule on my own. That is why the council was made. The council consists of the queen, which was me, the general, which was Kai, the top adviser, which was Nova, and the nobles. 

The nobles oversaw the four regions of the kingdom. The north was under Abraham, an elder man who had convinced his village to stand and fight with me against Trikru. The south was under Sofia. She used to be the royal doctor. She values life over everything. The east was under Victoria, the daughter of the man that helped me escape Trikru. He had followed after me along with Nova, and he held the role of noble of the east up until his unfortunate death last year when he faced terminal illness. Victoria was quite young, but she was mature and intelligent. I knew she would be able to live up to her father’s influence, if not I would have chosen someone else for the role. The west was under Damien. He too was young. He was a bit less mature than Victoria, but he provided an insight to the mind of the typical youth of Eclipsa. 

Abraham was against having such young people in the council. He stated that they were too young to have any valuable input, but I ignored him. Much to his disbelief, young does not always equal stupid. Just like how old is not a synonym for smart. Besides, the youth are a very important part to society, after all they are our future, and I hold the belief that they deserve much more credit than most elders give them. 

I didn’t believe in the practice of handing important roles down a bloodline simply because they shared the blood of someone who once held said important role. Instead, roles are chosen by a lengthy process. The monarch chooses the candidates, the council discusses and decides who shall take the role, and if the council were to ever fail to make up their mind, the people shall vote for whom they see fit. When the time comes for the city to need a new monarch and leader, if I have not chosen the candidates myself by then, it is up to the general and top advisor to choose the candidates. Then the usual process involving the rest of the council and the votes of the people will ensue. 

Kai continued to list off everything that happened, occasionally having to pause his not-so-brief summary to answer the question of one of the council members. Most of the questions came from the same person, Nova. 

“So by this point they should be fine without you, correct?” Nova asked once Kai finished his little monologue. 

“That’s what this meeting is suppose to determine,” I said as I looked at Nova. 

“It sounds like they’re perfectly fine, especially now that they’ve established connection with their home,” Nova concluded.

“But they haven’t. They could have sent the message, yes, but they have yet to hear anything back. For all any of us know their home could still think they’re dead,” Sophia said. 

“And they are young. They will still need guidance until we are fully assured that they indeed have a full, stable connection with the rest of their people,” Abraham pointed out. “Besides, it is not as if the city is under any danger! I’m sure we can manage a little more if her majesty is to be gone a little longer.”

“Well...” Kai said. I turned to him with a puzzled expression. Has a threat occurred? A rival tribe seeking war? “They are technically actively seeking after the queen.” The council stared up at Kai as panic seemed to have overcome the council. “They know that she is here, that she was sent here.” 

“They know the location of the city?” Victoria asked. “Why do they wish to find the queen? I thought you said that her majesty has already spoken with them-”

“Not her as in the queen who remains in Eclipsa. They are seeking her as in Y/N, an old friend, who remains on the ground,” Kai clarified. Both a confusion and relief surrounded us. 

“Well, we still need to find a solution. What if they follow all the clues and it leads right here to the city. What if they attack, thinking we’re holding her captive. Or if they feel offended that we did not trust them to know that she’s alive?” Abraham said.

“Then let them find her,” Damien said as we all gave him a surprised and puzzled look. “Just don’t let them know that you’re the queen or the “masked madam” or whatever they called you. If they find you, and already know that you’re alive, then they’ll stop searching.” 

I nodded, it wasn’t too bad of an idea. “But then she’ll need to hold up a double identity,” Sofia said. 

“I’ve done it before,” I shrugged. 

“At ease,” I said as I walked by the guard. Kai walked with me down into the cells where they kept the innocents they had captured. They’d soon be forced into labor if they weren’t simply killed off. “Do you have the keys?” I asked Kai as I held my hand out. He handed the ring of keys to me as I began to unlock the first chamber. However, I immediately withdrew as I heard the door open and footsteps descend from the stairs. I handed the key to the prisoner, telling them to hide it. Indra revealed herself, holding a torch to light the dark pathways. 

“What are you two doing down here?” she asked. 

“Rumours had been spread of a revolt, a lousy attempt to gain their freedom back. Just wanted to make an example, be sure that they knew what would happen if they were to even speak of such things again,” I said. Behind my back I had slit my wrists so blood would trail along the blade of my dagger. I hid my arm behind me, out of Indra’s sight as I showcased the dagger with a smug smile on my face. 

Indra’s smirk flashed into a grin as she let out a small, confident laugh. “This is why you are my right hand girl, top warrior and leader of our forces,” she stated with pride. “Well then, I suppose I should leave you to it. I should go check the other fighters. A sickness must be sweeping the village. It seems as though almost all my best soldiers have suddenly felt ill, so take it easy,” she said before she returned up the stairs. I didn’t let my act down until I heard the shutting of the door echo through the walls. I looked at Kai as I gestured for Kai to check the staircase and make sure the coast was clear. A sigh of relief left me as Kai returned, sending me a nod of approval. I bandaged my wrists up as Kai freed the prisoners. My heart raced, but I had made up my mind. It was for the greater good. Still, the blood would forever be on my hands. 

“I can do it,” I said. And so it was settled. 

The Nobles left. I greeted them all a farewell and saw them out of the palace walls. As I walked down the halls to my study, I had two voices following me around. It was as if a devil and an angel sat on each of my shoulders. If only, I knew which was which.

“Are you sure about this?” Nova asked, shoving the door I had just tried to shut on her open. Kai followed in after her, although rather than stand in the middle of the room, he took a seat in one of the chairs in front of my desk and made himself comfortable, propping his feet up on my desktop. 

“It’s already been settled,” Kai and I said in unison. I pushed Kai’s feet off my desk as I went to sit down in my chair. 

“Has it though? Has it really? Because we still don’t have a plan for what to do once they do establish connection to your ark!” Nova said as she crossed her arms. 

“The ark. It isn’t mine. I don’t own it,” I said with a scoff. 

“Your ark, the ark, who cares? But I’m being serious!” Nova argued and whined, stomping her foot as she pouted.

“When are you not?” Kai mocked as he fumbled around with the pen he stole from me. “We’ll figure it out.” I leaned over the desk to pluck the pen out of Kai’s fingers and put it back in the jar that he took it from.

“We’ll figure it out? When? When it’s too late?” Nova persisted. Kai let out a grumbled breath as I laughed at the way the two interacted. “Have you considered the risks? Do you realize what you are doing? Have you forgotten what is on that ship? Who is on that ship?” I gave her a warning look. “What they did to you?” I rolled my eyes at her. “Why are you so insistent on helping them?” Nova asked.

“Maybe because she fell in love with the leader,” Kai laughed. My eyes widened at his remark as Nova took in a gasp so deep that if she were to exhale, she could cause a tornado. I shot Kai a glare. “With him, she’s almost like that teenage girl we knew three years ago.”

“Kai,” I said in a warning tone.

“But is it true?” Nova asked. She showed sympathy. She should have been angry with me, furious. She has to be annoyed with the situation! But sympathy? 

“No,” I answered, “I fell in love with a man three years ago. I never fell out of love with him.” I barked, standing up from my seat. “But that is not who came to the ground,” I stated as if it were as simple as saying the sun was bright.  

“Well, regardless we still need to go back. They’re like mice running around in the sky; they don’t know what they’re doing,” Kai said as he stood from his-my chair. 

“Their well-being never should have been a priority to us nor should it be now,” Nova argued. “Y/N doesn’t even seem like she wants to help anymore anyway!” 

They stared at me, awaiting for my response as my eyes widened. “Well,” Kai asked, “do you?” I sat there dumbfounded. “Do you wish to return?” 

The answer seemed clear to me. My mind screamed at me to say no. I knew that my feelings for Bellamy could lead to my foolishness. My weakening confidence could lead us down a dangerous path. I was aware that I saw that the risk of pain was not worth the risk of love, but it had always seemed worth the safety of my people. I still see it that way. But the question was no longer if it was worth it. The question seemed as though it was one of who my people were, who do I stand with?

My head was a mess, and my heart was no better. I felt confused and lost. As if I was overcome with emotion, yet I also felt a certain numbness. Although the situation that caused it was new, the feeling was not. There was a nostalgia behind it, though this feeling had not come to me since I had first landed three years ago. I knew if I returned now, my busy mind dancing with my overwhelmed heart would lead to stupid actions. 

Because of this, it only confused me more when my answer of no came out as a “Yes.” 

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Masterlist

[collateralfiction]

25

Bailey

Squinting my eyes against the harsh sunlight that was beaming through the window, I turned my head to the side, burying my face deeper into Adrian’s chest. From his chest lightly rising and falling, I knew he was still asleep. Sighing softly, I turned my head on the side instead, watching the beautiful view of the sun and how well it meshed with the skylines. After bowling, we as a group had dinner on the pier but it was nothing short of tension filled. Whether they wanted to admit that or not is up to them, but I certainly felt the different vibes that was roaming around the table. Adrian barely spoke to anyone beside Austin and me when he wanted to. Justine stuck by Caiden side the whole time, slightly making Adrian look at them suspiciously but not enough to question it just yet. Even August was being a bit strange. No one is speaking on it, so I don’t know what the problem is. But knowing these group of people, anything can happen at any given moment. Anyhow, after that, I tagged along with Caiden and Justin to the local tattoo parlor. That would have been a perfect time to get my matching tattoo along with my mother and sister but instead, I got a flash tattoo. It took less than an hour to complete and I was more than satisfied with the results.

“Adrian,” I cooed lightly, tapping his neck annoyingly. It doesn’t take much to bother him and I seem to work his last nerve all the time. Groaning, he swatted my hand away with ease and positioned himself so he was now the one lying on me with his hands pinning my arms down by my side. “It’s already ten if you didn’t know, Adrian,” I mumbled, feeling his morning wood on my inner thigh.

“Give me five minutes, shit,” he grumbled.

“Okay, well, let me go. I’m hungry,” I complained, feeling his grip on my arm loosen. I slid out of the bed slowly and slipped on my pajama shorts before slowly making my way outside of the room. I continued to walk until I made it towards the kitchen where a buffet of food was placed along the kitchen counter. The employees made sure every day we were catered to so they could avoid any complaints. What I didn’t notice was that Justine was already at the table eating. She had on a pair of Beats headphone and her attention was focused solely on her phone along with her plate of food. Ever since she brushed off my attempt at trying to listen to her when she was clearly down, communication between the two of us ceased completely. There was the occasional few words here and there but other than that, it was nothing substantial.

With a small sigh, I began to fill my plate with what I desired before grabbing the jug of Pink Lemonade and pouring a good amount. I considered whether I should sit at the table or head back to the bedroom but the former chose seemed more convenient, so I sat on the other end of Justine, opposite side. It wasn’t until I sat down completely, and my plate made a sound against the glass table did she notice me. Normally, I would have offered up a small smile or hello but lately when I do, it’s not returned so there is no point in me doing it anymore.

It was never that hard for me to mind my business and ignore something that I didn’t want to pay attention to, but it was becoming a tad bit difficult with Justine staring at me every so often. It appeared to look like she had a problem with me but yet again, she wasn’t speaking up either and there was no way I could read anyone’s mind. “How much longer will you be here for?” Justine questioned. I looked at her through the corner of my eye, not sure what her question was aiming to do or mean.

“Does it matter to you?” I asked. “You weren’t concerned about it a few months ago,”

“That’s because you weren’t directly fucking up my life. Thanks a lot, Bailey. You’re the best,” she said sarcastically. I was taken aback at her sudden attitude towards me and how harsh she was being to begin with. Where this anger came from, I had no idea, but I wanted to find out. She had been so nice and warm every day prior to this with not the slightest hint of her possibly being angry at me. Was her anger even directed at the right person? I don’t think so. But if she does have a legit reason as to being angry at me, why didn’t she speak sooner? Like when I asked what’s wrong a few days ago? Biting down on my bottom lip, I refrained from saying anything that just might hurt her feelings. This was one of the main reasons why I had mostly boys as my friends. As cliché as it is, they were less difficult to talk to. They were either 100% blunt or 100% goofy, there was no in between with them. Unlike boys, there’s a whole range of emotions that aren’t as easy to deal with. I didn’t have it in me to deal with her attitude so early in the morning. Walking away hurriedly, I almost bumped into Adrian before he caught me by my forearms.

All it took was one look for him to notice something was wrong and as if on cue, he asked, “What’s the problem?”

“Nothing,” I muttered.

“Don’t lie to me,” he gritted.

“I’m not, Adrian. I just don’t appreciate your sister having an attitude with me for no reason at all,” I scoffed, snatching my arm away from him. He looked at me through squinted eyes before nodding his head slowly. As much as she may be going through something difficult, so was I and in no way should I be on the receiving end of her hatred. Without saying anything, he grabbed ahold of my small hand in his and pulled me back in the direction of the kitchen and I couldn’t help the tired expression that showed on my face. As suspected, she sat at the table still as if she didn’t say anything out of line. This time, at the sound of more than one pair of feet nearing her, she popped her headphones off and stared between Adrian and me.

“I don’t have time for your fake bullshit, Justine. If you not ‘bout to speak, don’t stare,” Adrian stated rudely, slightly surprising me. I mean, he could be very vicious with his words. That was no secret, but I did expect for him to take it somewhat easy on his own sister, but he was just as blunt as he was with anyone else. I want to say that it’s contributed because of how stressed he is and how Justine has been acting lately but I can’t be too sure. I squeezed his hand a little tighter, not wanting him to completely go off on his sister this early in the morning where people are around and could overhear. Besides, even if Justine and I were at odds, I would never want to see the demise of their relationship. They were all they had left. I whispered for him to stop and it worked somewhat but now they were just in an intense standoff, neither one looking away. “Go sit and eat,” Adrian muttered, keeping his attention solely on his fuming sister.

Like a weak puppy, I listened and traipsed towards my somewhat warm meal, grabbed it and placed it in the microwave to warm it up some more. Adrian grabbed a few warm butter biscuits off the platter and opted for taking an ice-cold bottle of water with him to the table. There, the two siblings continued to stare at one another, and it was starting to make me slightly uncomfortable. Licking my lips, I sat in my original seat which was beside him and began to eat once more. “When were you going to tell me you had Bailey fucking with Lonnie behind my back?” My eyes widened at her question but not once did Adrian falter or look concerned. In his eyes, what’s done is done and there was no taking it back either.

“I didn’t have to,” he stated with a shrug. “I’m not obligated to tell you anything as far as I’m concerned. I’m a grown man and I do what I please. You know nothing you say has an influence over me so don’t sit here and act like you’re mad because of that,” he spoke evenly, lacking all types of emotions. He wasn’t fazed in the least bit by Justine and once again, it pained me to witness this. I felt the need that I should leave and give them their space, but I wasn’t sure what would happen if I did. So, I stayed seated, watching two angry people go at it.

“And what is the point of this? To prove that I was stupid to bother with a dude like Lonnie, huh?” she snapped.

“Yes,” I tore my eyes away from my barely touched plate of food and onto Justine’s face. For a split second, I witnessed the sadness in her eyes before it took over her whole face. It was possible that Adrian’s one worded answer was true but there was another part of me that believed he only said that to get under his sister’s skin and to infuriate her which he easily did. I could literally see her caving right before me. “I don’t know why you stand up for this nigga so fucking hard. He hasn’t done shit for you besides help make Austin. But when is the last time he’s seen his own son? You’re forcing this nigga to do something he clearly doesn’t want. Why?” Adrian asked sternly. “You still talking to this nigga?” By the silence that came from Justine, that was all the confirmation Adrian needed. He shook his head in disappointment. “You will never learn, will you? You prove my point every day,”

“Fuck you, Adrian!” she spat. “You’ve done nothing but bring me down and everyone else!”

“You do that on your own,” While Justine was drowning in hysteria and loudness, Adrian remained with his cool exterior. “But so what? You’re this angered because Bailey was working against Lonnie? Fuck outta here. Yeah, she was dating Lonnie and you know what? Not once did you ever cross his mind. Now what the hell does that tell you? He doesn’t give a fuck about you or Austin, like I’ve been telling you for the past seven years! You want your kid around someone who would try to rape a female?!” he spat, banging his hand on the table. I cringed at Adrian putting it all out on the table for his sister to hear. My head immediately dropped. I knew Justine was staring at me, I could feel her piercing stare from the other side of the room. Adrian could have expressed this differently instead of coming for the jugular; goodness.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Your knight and shining armor tried to rape Bailey. Doesn’t sound so nice, does it?” he stated sternly, standing up. “You’re protecting this nigga or what?” She remained quiet, no longer staring at Adrian but at me. Shaking his head with a sad chuckle, he left the table quickly, not realizing that Austin was secured in the corner of the room, looking like a deer caught in headlights. I hadn’t even noticed him standing there at all and I wondered how much he did hear and if he understood any of this. As far as I was concerned, I never saw Adrian and Justine go at it in front of Austin so this must have been something hurtful to watch. Shaking my head, I went to go look for Adrian but stopped when Austin moved from his original spot in the corner to in front of me.

“Do they hate each other?” he asked softly.

“No, of course not! Just a little sibling discussion,” I tried to soothe. “Uh, c’mon, let’s give your mom some time to herself,” I said, turning my head to the side so I could get a glance at Justine. It was like she was paralyzed in her seat and couldn’t move because of the bombs Adrian just dropped on her. It was bound to come up but right now? Yikes. He nodded slowly and took ahold of my hand as we walked away from Austin’s mother. “How does a movie sound?” I asked.

“Okay,” he mumbled. I sighed deeply, walking towards the movie room. I just hope Adrian wasn’t doing anything destructive.

TPP

“Kennedy is Bailey,” That was all Xavier had to hear for his blood to begin to boil. He knew that there was something suspicious about Lonnie and as suspected, he was right and couldn’t believe it. As any normal person, his mind would have went in the direction of happiness, as he was close to finally bringing Bailey back, but that’s not what was on his mind. The fact that Lonnie tried to rape his younger cousin was and that set him off more than anything. Knowing that if his uncle found out about that, he knew he would destroy that nigga without a second thought to it and Xavier was going to do just that. He didn’t include Ryan on his plans because he knew that Ryan would possibly put a stop to it and truth be told, Xavier didn’t want any interference from anyone. So, Xavier called Lonnie up and asked if they could meet up and now he was currently at Lonnie’s house. Lonnie believed that Xavier was interested in the topic of discussion they were having but he didn’t know better and certainly didn’t know Kennedy was family he was fucking with.

Xavier, with such ease, pulled out his 9mm caliber, pointing it at Lonnie’s back. Lonnie was going to the fridge to retrieve a bottle of beer and when he turned around and noticed the gun pointing at him, he let out a dark chuckle. “What’s this for?” he asked, tensing up.

“You see, I knew something was wrong with you when I met you. I just didn’t know what yet. That was until everything started to click,” he chuckled dryly, licking his lips shortly after. Lonnie clenched his jaw, not sure what he was referring to but by the way he stood with his chest out, if he was going to die, he was going to die like a man, at least. All his dirt is already done, he did what he had to do and Adrian will find out soon. His job is completed. “This Kennedy girl you was fucking with is actually my cousin and her real name is Bailey,” Lonnie stared at him harshly, not wanting to believe such a thing, let alone believe that he was fucking with Ryan’s ex girl all along. Damn, he thought, Adrian fucked over two niggas with one girl. “And you tried to rape her. I don’t play that shit,” Xavier grumbled.

“So you’re about to kill me over someone I didn’t even know was related to you?” Lonnie questioned.

“Wrong… now you do know she’s related to me and I’m still going to kill you,”

“It’s not even wor-“ Lonnie wasn’t even able to finish his statement before a bullet smoothly pierced the middle of his head, blood quickly splattering the surrounding area. Smoke from the gun clouded the area for a few seconds before it died down.

“It is worth it, bitch,” Xavier grumbled, not fazed by Lonnie’s slumped body. He shook his head and proceeded to get up, grabbing the beer bottle Lonnie was once going to drink. He pulled out his phone and called a good friend of his uncle’s that’ll clean this mess and make it appear as if it was a random home invasion. One down, Ryan is next to go. Although Mr. Banks put Xavier and Ryan to work together, Mr. Banks knew it was only a matter of time before they did their own things and with Ryan confirming Xavier thoughts, there was no way Xavier could act as if he valued Ryan’s word.

Bailey

It was easier said than done, coaxing Austin to forget about what he just saw with his own eyes. Regardless of what movie I selected for us to watch, it seemed like he had more questions than I had answers and I felt bad that I couldn’t give him those answers. It came down to finding Adrian for him because it seemed like only Adrian could somewhat make Austin feel better. I haven’t seen Justine after that breakfast catastrophe and she probably locked herself in her room by now, not wanting to face anyone. I don’t know when the next time Adrian will come around and apologize to his sister for his behavior because at this point, he seemed over everything. He wasn’t going to apologize for his actions. He wasn’t going to be made look like he was dumb when all he did was look out for her and I completely understood that; shit, everyone has a breaking point. I just didn’t think it would have gotten to this point so soon.

I just didn’t understand why Justine couldn’t see it her brother’s way for once. She was rooting for Lonnie so hard yet failed to realize the bigger picture. Although I didn’t speak my thoughts aloud, I know Adrian was thinking the same thing. “How is he?” I asked, walking into our bedroom.

“He’s fine, now. He actually went to sleep,” Adrian mumbled. I climbed in bed beside him, laying my head on his chest. “Thanks,” he grumbled.

“For what?”

“One, for not ripping Justine’s head off. Yeah, that’s my sister and all but her mouth is something else and two, for trying to console Austin. He’s not meant to be around this type of environment. I don’t know, my original plan was to make Austin and Justine relocate but now I just want Austin to go somewhere else,”

“Like where? You got family outside of New York?”

“My grandmother. She lives in Georgia,”

“This isn’t your maternal grandmother, right?”

“Naw,” he chuckled. “How’d you know?”

“I listen during our conversations,” I smiled. It was a conversation we had way back after our initial rocky stage and he was elaborating on who the important women were in his life. He mentioned his grandmother but if I remember correctly, he said that she had passed away a while ago.

“I call her my grandmother, but I’ve known her since I was young. You see, I had an older brother,” I paused a little bit, taking in Adrian’s statement. I should have known that Adrian had more things up his sleeve to reveal; the things that circulate around Adrian are endless. I just didn’t expect to hear that he had an older brother. I always believed it was just Justine and Adrian, but I was wrong. Remaining mum, I allowed him time to continue. “All three of us used to travel to Georgia every now and then before I settled in New York for high school. Down there, my grandmother had a friend who I call my grandmother as well ‘cause she would look out for us as if we were blood. She was dope as hell and I usually make it my mission to visit her every year, but I haven’t seen her in over three years due to all this bullshit,”

“So, let me guess. That’s your first stop when this blows over,”

“If I’m not arrested,” I bit my bottom lip and sighed, not knowing exactly how to respond to that. Only time will tell, and time was running out quickly.

“Why do I feel like when we go back to New York, all of our plans will dissolve?” I mumbled. Grasping my waist in his hands, he placed me on his lap so that I was now straddling him. Licking my lips, he forced me look at him, knowing that I was purposely avoiding his gaze.

“Is that what you’re really worried about?” he questioned.

“I wish you didn’t kidnap me, and we had met in a different scenario, you know? Like, somewhere in a supermarket and you come up to me with a cheesy pick up line. Things would have been so much easier. Do you ever stop to think and wonder how your actions have an effect on others? Like, what’s going to happen to Austin?” He sighed tiredly, closing his eyes momentarily.

“Sometimes but I’ll make sure Austin is taken care of before anything can ever happen to him and that’s my word. But, I never run away from any of my issues, as you can see, but shit happens,” he said.

“You gotta do better,” I muttered, locking my hands with his. “Where’s the next stop going to be?” I questioned, sliding off his lap and onto the open space next to him.

“It’ll take us a while to get back to our villas ‘cause we so far from ‘em now, so that’s where we’re heading now. I don’t know when we’ll be back though,”

“Alright, I’m going to take a nap,” I said, slipping under the covers.

“You mad now?” he asked, hovering over my small frame. His lips roamed on the side of my neck, attempting to get some sort of reaction out of me. His hands slipped underneath my shirt, the pads of his finger tickling my skin. “Oh, so you don’t want to answer me now? Why you so salty for? I’m the one that should be upset. You don’t see the shit I gotta deal with on a daily basis?” he continued to talk, his fingers nearing the hem of my cotton shorts. I was a little worried about the future of Adrian since he seemed to be a little nonchalant about the repercussions he could possibly face. He had a family to look after and without Adrian around, how could he keep a watchful eye on things from behind bars? I was probably stupid for being this compassionate about his predicament when I should show him nothing but hate but it really is hard to do so when you start to talk to and understand a person. “It’s cute that you’re worried ‘bout me, shorty. But, I’m good so don’t be,” he stated confidently. I opened my mouth to speak but instead a harsh gasp left my mouth as soon as Adrian’s fingers pumped into me.

“Oh my God,” I breathed.

_

After a fuck, shower and nap later, Adrian and I both were comfortably lying in bed, separating ourselves from everyone else. Occasionally Austin would come in but other than that, communication with others has been low. Caiden does come in every once and a while though. I had asked about how Justine was doing not too long ago, and I guess she had literally cried herself to sleep, based on what Caiden had said. I tried to convince Adrian to go talk to her, but he wouldn’t listen at all; he’s so fucking stubborn. The only person I see him listening to is Austin. “You’re actually getting reception out here?” I mumbled tiredly, looking for his requested phone.

“I know right. Ain’t that some dope shit?” he chuckled. Handing him his vibrating device, he took a look at the caller I.D. and sighed, mumbling something inaudible.

“What’s up?” he answered. He looked at me through the corner of his eye slightly before swinging his legs off the bed and turning to face the other way. I immediately took that as my cue to go outside and give him some privacy. I didn’t end up too far as I only managed to make it a few feet outside before I heard a loud ‘what?’causing me to retract my steps and step into the room once again. His face was completely flushed red and it wasn’t because he was embarrassed, hardly is he, but because he was angry as hell. He was pacing the floor quickly, trying to alleviate his anger but it seemed futile. I carefully maneuvered around him, sitting on the middle of the bed. I couldn’t quite hear who was on the other end of the line but from the baritone voice, it sounded like someone important.

“I’ll be back in two days, the most. I‘m leaving tonight then,” Leaving? My brows shot up and I listened even more closely than before. He roamed around the room, packing shit up quickly, not caring where his clothes went or not. I wanted to interrupt him for a second, but I was scared that he just might fling me for doing such a thing. The phone conversation lasted another ten minutes before he tucked his phone away in the back pocket of his sweats. I remained quiet for a few seconds before I found myself speaking up again.

“What’s wrong? What’s happening?” I mumbled, scooting towards the edge of the bed.

“Fuck am I doing on a boat?” he muttered to himself, sitting down as well but that didn’t stop him from stuffing the clothes he had in his hand in the duffle bag. I carefully wrapped my arms around his neck from behind, feeling just how tense and rigid his body was. The worrisome feature that seems to occur at any given moment was making its appearance.

“Adrian,” I cooed softly. “Talk to me,”

“Bailey, it’s really not a good time,” he said sternly, lightly pulling my arms from off of him. I frowned my face up at his action before he stood and turned to look at me. “As soon as this boat docks, I’m leaving for New York,” My eyebrows meshed together, and my demeanor softened.

“How, Adrian? We’re still a few miles away from the city,” I told him. “Relax for a second and breathe. What’s going on? There’s nothing you can do right now,” Still, that didn’t stop Adrian from gathering the amount of clothing he did bring into the duffel bag he carried onto the boat.

“Justine’s crib been ransacked. My step pops just called telling me,” My mouth fell. “I need to be back home, now!” he gritted.

“Wait, slow down. What do you mean her crib was ransacked? Someone broke in?” I asked.

“That’s what the fuck ransack means, Bailey!” he yelled harshly. That easily made me shut my mouth, although I had something on the tip of my tongue that I wanted to say. Obviously, right now wasn’t the right time to rip into him or do anything that might make him more upset. I just thought that hearing that tidbit of information was really random. All of a sudden when Adrian isn’t even in the states something like this occurs? Although I knew someonewas out there looking for me, I knew it couldn’t have been anyone from my side. I just wouldn’t see it as something beneficial if they were looking to get me back, to be honest.

“If you’re going to New York, I’m going as well!” I stated with enough conviction to get my point across. Adrian didn’t bother to say anything to me, seeing as that his mind was already gone and that there was a high chance that the last thing on his mind was whether or not I accompanied him. I just wasn’t too positive if going back this soon was the best thing for neither of us.

__

Between those two days, might I add chaotic days, everything seemed to happen in a flash. There was literally no time to sit and allow things to marinate because time was moving too quickly. As soon as the boat had docked two days ago, we hastily returned to the villa, collecting our belongings. At this point, he hadn’t mentioned anything to anyone about what was occurring back home and rightfully so. It wasn’t until Justin had caught him packing his things and calling for his jet to arrive early the next morning for an abrupt departure did Adrian finally allow them to know what was up. However, he didn’t want everyone coming back at once, he barely wanted me to come back. So instead, he ordered August and Caiden to stay with Justine and Austin until he got to the bottom of this.

Adrian was really giving August the cold shoulder, unbeknownst to me and every time I tried to ask, he would just ignore me as if I didn’t ask a question. Austin was the least bit happy to see him leave. The two of them actually had a long conversation before Austin allowed his uncle to leave. After that, the five of us boarded the jet and was on our way back home. We had at least fifteen minutes left before we landed in New York and my nerves seemed to have skyrocketed in that amount of time. My legs continued to shake as I looked out at the sky. Everything was so tense, and I just felt like this was a foreshadowing of everything that was bound to happen.

An announcement detailing our landing ensued and I buckled up and leaned back into the cushioned chair. Adrian, Brian and Justin conversed the whole plane ride. About what? I don’t know and I doubt anyone will tell me. The plane landed safely, and I gathered the few belongings I did have, making my way to the entrance and exit of the private jet. From the somewhat large windows, I noticed a black Escalade waiting outside for what I assumed to be ours and as I slowly descended down the steps, the harsh air of New York nipped at my skin. It was still the middle of July, but it felt like the beginning of November.

“Welcome back, Mr. Peters,” Adrian had caught up with me and snaked his hand into mine, catching me off guard. He was either hot or cold and it was always unexpected. Adrian simply nodded and pulled me in the direction of the backseat. I got in first before he followed and from the window once again, I watched Justin and Brian talk for a few minutes before departing into another vehicle I hadn’t noticed before. Our luggage was put into the trunk and once we were all settled, we finally left. I stared at our conjoined hands and briefly looked at Adrian. It was crazy how I felt as if we were putting in all this energy for nothing to actually happen at the end of this. I wasn’t stupid and I knew that we could never be; I just didn’t understand why I was tricking myself into believing otherwise.

We had passed through multiple neighborhoods in order to get to Brooklyn. The brownstone that I had recognized a few months back belonged to none other than Justine. From the outside looking in, nothing seemed strange. “Com’on,” Adrian muttered, snapping me out of my thoughts. I moved without verbally speaking and trekked behind him slowly. It felt weird being in the city again, as if this was a place I was actually excited about being in. With ease, Adrian unlocked the front door and trekked further inside the house with me following close behind. Behind the light brown colored door, I didn’t know what I expected to see but I was certainly shocked as hell.

From coming here months ago, everything was left in a neat and primped order. Now, things were thrown out of the draws, furniture was flipped upside down, there was broken glass on the hardwood floor, things out of place and all pictures that were once on the wall appeared to be stepped on and scattered along the floor. My feet continued to carry me around the house, and I felt so bad for Justine. The fact that Adrian told her what happened and yet he’s forcing her to stay away, I just can’t seem to fathom what could possibly be going through her mind right now. We might be at odds but it’s obvious she’s going through it. I pushed one of the doors back slightly, revealing Adrian in what appeared to be Austin’s room. Compared to other rooms, this room was the one that remained the same and neat as hell. “This was all Lonnie’s doing,” Adrian said.

“Hmph,” I sounded, crossing my arms over my chest. I leaned against the doorframe and waited till Adrian turned to face me.

“What?” he snapped.

“Nothing,” I retorted. “I’m going to go wait in the car,” I declared, not knowing why my presence to be here to begin with was needed. This was just too much for me to take in.

“Your fucking attitude is not necessary,” he said, snatching my forearm in his hand. “You can drop that shit right now. I don’t know where that shit is coming from but let it go,”

“Fuck you,” I spat.

Adrian

I didn’t understand where this hostility was coming from with Bailey, but it was irritating the shit out of me. Right now was not the time for her to cop an attitude, especially with me. Old Adrian would not have a problem making a reappearance and I know that’s the last thing I know she wants. So it’s better if she remains to herself and stay out of my way. It’s bad enough that I got people gunning for me but to deal with Lonnie’s bullshit as well? Fine, I can handle it all then. Pulling up to my crib, I slipped out of the backseat, not bothering to wait for Bailey to leave as well. She got me too fucked up. I used the key to enter into the vacant household, nothing seemingly out of place. I briskly walked towards one of the hidden closets, yanking the door open and taking a look at the camera footage. As far as a brief look at the camera footage, there was no apparent break in, no one lurking around my premises and everything seemed to be copasetic. But in reality, it was far from it

Shaking my head, I trekked up the steps to my bedroom and slipping in with ease. To my surprise, bipolar ass Bailey was sitting down on my bed with an envelope in her hand. For a second, I believed that it was the one I had given her but by the expression on her face, I realized that it wasn’t as she extended her hand for me to take it. “This was left by the door. You would have seen it if you didn’t barge past,” she said.

I quickly glanced at it for a millisecond. “Go pack your things,” I muttered without glancing at her. I made my way towards the desk, sat down and began to open the envelope. At this point, I had no expectation for what I was about to see or read. I was drained from everything and a tiny part of me wished I had never been this curious to actually find out what had occurred over a year ago. Huffing dramatically, I finally found the willpower to open the envelope and grasp the crisp letter out of it. Since when did niggas feel like it was appropriate to send letters? I scanned the letter, going straight towards the end to see whether or not the sender left a name and to no surprise, there wasn’t. “Type of bullshit is this,” I mumbled, beginning to read the tell-all letter. Within the first paragraph, I already knew who was behind this and I was itching to find him.

What’s hidden in the dark, must come to light sooner or later, right? Well, at least I think so. There’s really so much to be said but only so much space to write it all, this’ll have to do though. I think it’s best if we start from the very beginning. Remember that plan you had with Ryan that seemed to fail miserably? Well, there’s a few reasons why that plan actually failed to begin with. One,you were working with Ryan of all people. Two, Ryan is my friend, emphasis on friend. Three, there are a lot of people willing to see the demise of you and four, your family will turn on you in a heartbeat when it works in their favor.

That was your first downfall. But of course with every action, there is a consequence and yours was not an exception. But see, it could have been. But not when your plan has been switched into a set up by none other than your precious sister. Oh yes! She’s the one that hatched the idea. But don’t worry, she wasn’t the only one in on it. It was the three of us. Ryan, Justineand me of course. I don’t need to write my name, you know by now, right?

Anyhow, the goal was to destroy you. It was working pretty well to start off. Once I found out you were working with Ryan, I knew that this was the perfect time to make my move, but it wouldn’t have worked as efficiently if Justine wasn’t apart of the mix. With a little convincing, fake promises and fucking your sister’s brain out on a daily, she finally gave in. She acted as our insider. Of course, there was going to be things you didn’t want Ryan to know and the only way any sort of information would leave your lips, is if you told Justine. She was really convincing with wanting to know, huh? She probably made it seem like she cared wholeheartedly. Wrong. After collecting all the information we did need on you, we devised a plan to set you up.

I informed Ryan on this and he gladly assisted and played his part. Justine was the one that made sure you were caught in the act of doing something illegal. So ultimately, Justine is the reason why you had that little stint in prison. Fucked up, right? Well your sister isn’t as innocent as she plays to be, how unfortunate. She was the one that made sure the FBI knew when and where to locate you so you would be the one caught with your hands tied. Being that, that was a successful plan, I took the initiative to wire money out of your bank accounts, you know, the one that has your illegal and legal money? Check your funds during the period of time when you were incarcerated, your legal account that is.

All information supplied by your lovely sister.

But that’s not it. Things get much more juicer. I’m pretty sure you’re fuming right about now, and this will most certainly anger you. For Justine’s sake, I hope she isn’t near you.

If you recall, the same time you were put on trial was the same time Austin went missing. Well, he wasn’t truly missing. I knew where he was andso did Justine. I guess you can’t really blame Justine for this but then you can. I knew that if you found out something were to happen to your nephew, you would potentially jeopardize your life in order to make sure he is safe. So, I came up with the idea of using Austin as a piece of my plan. The whole idea was to make you come out of character to gain a higher sentencing, working in my favor to slowly destroy what empire you seem to have. It didn’t work but my plans still went through.

Justine wasn’t too fond of the idea, but I didn’t care. I told her about what I had in mind and that I would need Austin to execute this. While I pretended to act as if I was done plotting, I asked if I could have Austin for the weekend; the same week in which he was took. This is when I was still given time with Austin before she was granted sole custody. Anyhow, in that time period, I mentioned to Ryan, your number one enemy, what plan I had in mind and the cut he would have in this if he went along with it. And he did. To cut a long story short, I told Austin to go the corner store where Ryan was waiting already and that’s when he was taken. I clearly knew where my son was and so did Justine, she just didn’t know what was happening to her beloved baby… that is until she saw it for herself. If I were you, I would fuck Ryan’s life up for abusing Austin, but I can’t say much since I allowed for it to happen.

Check the police reports if I were you.

All in all, what I was seeking for didn’t work out since I didn’t get the reaction out of you that I wanted. But in the long run, I see that I still managed to cause some damage. I know that by the end of this letter, you’ll probably come after Ryan and I, and I’m perfectly fine with that; my job is done. Your sister isn’t as perfect and innocent as she seems, huh? Who would ever think she would aid in harming her own brother and lying about her knowledge of Austin? Just go and ask her and see how quickly she fucks up and begins to stutter-

I couldn’t even find it in me to finish the rest of the letter. What I read thus far, I didn’t want to believe nor think it could ever be true. But my mind was racing, and everything was slowly piecing together… Before I could even process my actions, my fist was colliding with the white colored walls.

Bailey

I had one suitcase packed to capacity with all the amount of clothing I seemed to have accumulated over the few months. Being back in New York just gave me this weird feeling. It was once a city that I adored but it just brings me to the point of exhaustion. Like, everything that I despise and want to get away from is here. There’s absolutely no way of avoiding it and with seeing how destroyed Justine’s place is, I know it’s only a matter of time before shit hits closer to home. It had been over an hour since being back at the house and I hadn’t heard not a thing from Adrian. I don’t know if that could possibly pose as a good thing or not but whatever it meant, I was slightly worried since he usually checks up on me despite the situation. I probably acted like a bitch earlier when I didn’t have to, but this was all getting to me and I just wanted to be done with it all.

Standing up to retrieve my black Timberland boots, I heard an unusual sound from one of the rooms on the same level as me and went to take a look outside. I stood near the staircase, staring down below and not noticing a thing at all. I must be hearing things. The minute I went to head back into my room, I heard that same exact sound again, making me walk quickly in the direction of the source. To my surprise, Adrian stood in Justine’s room, fucking up all of her personal items. What? Adrian seemed like such a different person so quickly; his face was completely flushed red, his veins were more conspicuous, his chest was heaving in and out rapidly and there was a noticeable amount of blood on his clothing and hand.

I felt like in these past two days I found myself asking him way too many questions like, what’s going on, what’s wrong, etc, and I can see my questions annoying him which is why I’m so timid in actually asking now. However, I didn’t want to see him self-destruct and cause any more harm than what he’s already doing. I just wish Brian and Justin were around to diffuse this situation for me. Despite me being in the same room as him, it didn’t stop him from causing any more damage, even when he looked at me. It seemed like it just ignited more anger. But that’s when I knew I should step in and say something to him. Slowly stepping over broken items, I trailed closely next to Adrian and placed my hand on his back in a somewhat comforting manner. “Whatever is happening right now, I think you should stop and relax before you jump to anymore conclusions,” I said calmly.

“My sister is a fucking fraud, Bailey. You can’t trust no one,” he yelled with frustration. I knew the less detailed questions I asked him, the better for him but I wasn’t understanding. “I want her out my fucking house!”

“You can’t kick her out. Where will she go? Her house is trashed!” I exclaimed, grabbing the glass vase from his hand before he had a chance to smash it against the wall.

“I don’t care where she goes; I don’t. I just know I don’t want to see her in my face,” he gritted.

“You know you would be an asshole for that, right?” I said seriously. He snatched away his hand from me causing me to stumble, trip over the material on the floor and land on my bottom. “Fuck,” I hissed, feeling the glass that was located on the floor pierce my skin. Adrian hovered over me and pulled my face in his grasp.

“You don’t get it, do you? My own blood sister turned her back on me for a stupid nigga like Lonnie. She played the innocent role until shit caught up to her. She can’t even be truthful or loyal to her own blood?” he asked rhetorically. “I don’t want that shit around me. Fuck her! I knew there was a reason you can’t trust everyone. I knew it and it’s sad as fuck that my sister had to confirm that shit for me. I’ve been telling you for the longest not to trust everyone you encounter, B. You see the shit I’m dealing with?!”

“But that doesn-“ I said with my voice muffled a bit since he was restricting me from talking properly.

“Yes the fuck it does. How would you feel if you knew the person who killed Riley was staying up in this crib?” he said seriously, snatching his hand away from my face. My face contorted into confusion at his words. I didn’t know if he was saying that to be a jackass or if he had meant it but the longer the silence lingered in the air while he continued to viciously throw Justine’s shit around, I began to slowly connect the dreadful pieces.

“You killed him?” I said, surprisingly loud with just the right amount of bass.

“I was in jail, couldn’t have been me. But, August? Yeah, he did,” he said nonchalantly. I could feel my body heat rise and the once loving vibe that used to encompass this house with all the lively people that lived in it, vanished within a heartbeat and I felt myself breaking down all over again. How could they have possibly gone through so many months and not think to mention such a thing? How could August sit in my face and hold plenty of conversations with me but omit to mention he killed Riley? I’m a thousand percent sure they knew of who I was before this, who I surrounded myself around and so forth. For them to think they could hide something like this for so long, boggled my mind and it actually hurts my feelings. My bottom lip trembled with force as I stood up slowly, slightly cringing at the feel of the glass cuts on my exposed legs.

“Wow, Adrian,” I chuckled darkly. “You allowed me to sit there and pour my heart out to you about Riley when you already knew of him? You had me thinking you didn’t know a damn thing about him, and you sat up in my face, knowing damn well you did and to make matters worse, you knew who fucking killed him. You preach all this nonsense about being truthful and being trustworthy, but you can’t even fucking tell me the truth from day one?”

“Niggas die every day, B,” he dismissed. I couldn’t help the tears that began to pool at the corner of my eye.

“And you don’t even fucking care. I’m so speechless right now,” I muttered, refusing to allow any tears to leave from my eyes, at least not in front of his emotionless face. “I’m so stupid for believing a nigga like you,” I mumbled, briskly walking past him and out of the haphazard room. There were no footsteps heard behind me at all so I knew that he hadn’t followed me. To think that Adrian would be 100% honest with me and would at least have the decency to tell me something like this earlier, blows my mind. He could tell me everything else, including how Ryan ain’t shit but couldn’t tell me this? Although it wasn’t necessarily him that pulled the trigger, it might as well have been with the way he was holding out on potentially telling me. August didn’t even have the guts to tell me and made me wonder if that was the reason Adrian was giving him the cold shoulder all along. Shaking my head, a part of me was glad that I once again was snapped back into reality of Adrian and his bullshit. But then there was another part of me that just wished I knew this sooner and that August would have opened his mouth. I mean, what’s the worse that I can do? It’s not like I can resurrect Riley, but this does indeed leave me with weight on my shoulders now.

All that was running through my mind at the moment was fuck it.

I was drained.

Emotionally and psychically.

What I would do just to be in my bed for a day, the options are endless.

I would love to wake up and think of this as a horrible nightmare.

I just know that Adrian is the last person I want to see, and I have plans of getting away from him. I just didn’t know where I would go. It’s not like I can waltz back into my parent’s house, let alone my old apartment.

I tried my hardest to stop the influx of tears as it worked to no avail, causing me to become flustered. The white envelope that Adrian so graciously gifted me with a few days ago sat upon the neat bad, waiting to be unfolded and read. I didn’t want to potentially see anything else that Adrian might have to say, whether it be written down or not, but something was urging me to do it now so if it was a heartache, I could get over it quickly. Snatching the paper of the bed, I quickly ripped it open, not caring how it looked appearance wise and slipped out the blank white card that was contained inside. In what appeared to be words written by a sharpie, were three of the most important words I never thought I would get the chance to do while here and from the fact that it came from Adrian made me quite suspicious. Why is he playing with my emotions? It read:

Call your pops.

At this point, I rather take that call from Ryan.

[mfmagazine]

Violet Behavior

Violet Behavior is an internationally known model and is one of the only fetish models in the world that have also been in major publications which are outside of the alternative world. Published in magazines such as FHM and Hustler and modeling for Trashy Lingerie, Road Bone Clothing, Vanodorm Clothing and Halo Guitars, Violet is now everywhere you look and she says she is just getting started.

Where are you originally from?

The Dirty South! Beaumont, Texas which is pretty much Louisiana.

Do you travel a lot?

Off and on. I will go a few months without traveling and then I will leave once a week. Recently I have been to Dallas, Miami, Ft. Lauderdale, Houston, Denver and will soon be going to New York, Canada and California.

What was in Miami?

Normally I travel for shoots but that weekend I flew from Chicago to Dallas and stayed there for 2 nights to see a band called SKANK. And then I flew to Miami...I wasn't supposed to. I was supposed to fly to Ft. Lauderdale but I am retarded and went to Miami. So a long cab ride later, I was in Ft. Lauderdale and I was there to see my Marley boys.

As in Bob Marley's sons?

Yes sir. It was at Ky-Mani Marley's Birthday party. Damian, Stephen, Ky-Mani, Julian Marley and Khev, The Original Babyface AKA LionKing Muzik, Fyakin, Ky-Enie, and some other people performed also, but it was really just a small invite only party.

Do you see them often? How are they to hang with?

I just saw them here in Chicago too and I am supposed to go to Seattle this weekend to hang out. I will also be seeing them in Cali and Texas over the next month. They are nice people. And I don't mean that to sound as generic as it does. They are actually good hearted, empathetic, spiritual, loving human beings. I'm very thankful I went to Ky-Mani's party because I met a ton of awesome people and top names in the reggae world showed up. It was a lot of fun and I met 2 people that made an impression on me that will last forever. Lionface from LionKing Muzik is an absolute sweetheart. He works with Wayne Wonder and is probably one of the best DJs I have ever seen. I am going to see about booking them in Chicago, they would blow people away here. I also met Sava, who grew up with a couple of the Marley's in Jamaica and still remains good friends with them. I have really grown fond of Sava. He is an amazing person and we have a true connection and I look forward to seeing him many more times, and if I don't for some reason, he will always have a place in my heart.

Finish this phrase:

I love it when a guy: shuts up. Hah kidding. I love it when a guy is funny and also when a guy does surprisingly nice things and has no idea he even did it. And with me saying that just now, I realize that women really ARE complicated ha.

What do men gain by sitting through chick flicks?

A nap I'm sure!

I'm sure you have heard the debates about women being degraded in rap videos these days. What do you, as a female, think about these arguments?  

I really stand behind the right to free speech. Along with having these rights, come other people with different opinions than you, having the same right. Everyone involved in the video is there because they want to be. Those females are not feeling degraded in the making of the video. Now as a viewer, if you don't like what you see... do not watch it! Turn the channel. Raise your sons to respect women and raise your daughters to respect themselves and stop worrying about what is on TV!

What do you wear when you're online talking to people?

I am usually at home when I am doing that. My typical outfit when sitting at home is little short shorts and a wife beater.

How does cyber sex rate compared to real sex?

I wouldn't know... my real sex is amazing, who needs to pretend to have sex online.

What's the creepiest proposition you've had over the web?

I don't know if it is the creepiest but it is recent and definitely creepy. A guy who lives in my city asked if I would come over to his house. Asked if I would sit on the floor and smoke cigarettes while he sat on the bed, dressed as a female. When I was done with the cigarette, to put it out on his foot while telling him "Your feet are disgusting!" Yeah ok. Declined.

Who is your favorite porn star?

I always forget her name... but she is literally the hottest and cutest girl ever. Oh yeah, Jesse Jane!

Would you ever post a homemade porn video on the web?

Um... probably haha.

What is your favorite part of your body?

My eyes actually. "My eyes are the windows to the earth"

When will you retire modeling?

October 2009. Literally. Then it is time for the next phase of my life.

Where do you want to travel to?

A ton of places. I want to go to Belize to see the Mayan ruins. I want to go to Jamaica and experience their culture and go see some awesome music. I want to do some volunteer work in Kenya. I want to go everywhere.

Modeling goals? Personal goals?

As far as modeling, I have no set goals. I have a little over 2 years left of modeling and just want to do the best I can do at it. That doesn't mean get famous or rich off of it, I just want to do it well. When I'm old I want to be able to look back on this as one of the most awesome experiences I have had, know how lucky I was to have accomplished what I did, and the memories of how much fun I had with the people I met along the way that I otherwise wouldn't have ever had the chance to meet.

Personal Goals? Some minor things will change over the years with my personal goals, but most will stay the same for many years, just as they have been my goals for many years already. Whether it is seen and noticed or not, I try to be the best person I can be. I really try to do the right thing on all levels and help people and hope that it rubs off on them and they pass it on. Positivity.

Do you ever get jealous of other models?

Ha, no. When I first got into modeling, it was not intentional. I did not keep up with models nor did I care. Because of this, I had no influence and immediately had my own style, because I had nothing to copy. I keep things that way. I see models in magazines and online and such but I don't pay attention to any of them or what they are doing or wearing or anything. First of all, I don't really care. If they are a friend of mine, I will discuss it with them and hope they succeed at their goals, but I purposely don't talk about it a lot because I don't want it to become a competition with us. Second of all, I am not here to copy anyone. I don't care about the actual modeling industry and I don't want to be a part of the actual social aspect of the modeling.

Is one of your goals to be famous?

Definitely not. The last thing I want is fame, to be honest. This may confuse people because of me being in magazines and that being one of my goals. But it isn't because I want fame, it is because that is an accomplishment in the modeling industry, and I try to succeed in anything I do. I couldn't imagine not being able to just go to the store without people surrounding me. It already sucks to not be able to go to the store without 15 creepy guys hitting on me before I can get back home.

Why do women collect stuffed animals?

Because guys give them to us and we hold sentimental value on EVERYTHING hah.

Would you ever date a guy with a stuffed animal collection?

That is an odd question. Why, do you have one? I wouldn't on purpose, that's for sure. But my luck, I would date a guy and he would end up having this largest stuffed animal collection in the world.

What are some characteristics a guy must have for you to take interest in him?

He has to make me laugh. Almost every guy I have dated is pretty damn funny, except for 1. He made me "chuckle" at best. His jokes were SO bad; I almost became nauseous at times. I do not find puns funny. And he did...about 100 times a day. I remember once my friend Angel was over our house and my dog Quincy was trying to get his tennis ball out from under a heater. This guy says... "You keep doing that Quincy, and you will get opposable thumbs!" and really thought that was hilarious. Angel and I wanted to literally throw up. This sounds really mean but I couldn't take it anymore. I told him finally that I can't be with someone who doesn't make me laugh. So to either be funny, or to just stop trying all together and not say those retarded jokes.

What do you think about people in general?

In general, I think people are extremely complex. I give everyone the benefit of the doubt, but there really are just a lot of terrible people out there. It's quite sad. It is way too common for a person to be selfish, self centered, apathetic, deceiving and fake. I am going to have to use the previously mentioned guy as another example. He was raised by a millionaire of a father and a stuck up mother. Decided he didn't want a real job (he knew he would always have money if he needed it) so he became a "musician". He started dating someone he didn't even really like, cheated on her the whole time, married her and continued cheating throughout. Cheated throughout the divorce, WITH his divorce lawyer, with the girlfriend on the side (who he was also cheating on), cheated with one of his music students, etc. Ended up marrying the girlfriend and having a kid with her, both cheating on each other, tried to kill himself in front of his kid, and didn't give a shit about anything except for music. He gave up on his family, gave up on his son, but makes sure to work hard on his music career everyday of his life. His only goal is fame, nothing else matters. That is just sick to me... nothing comes before your family in my mind. People like him make me cherish the good people in my life even more.

What is your favorite word?

Stupid.

Who would you choose: a guy with a swimmer's body or a guy with a body builder's body?

That question just totally grossed me out.

Do you have a favorite Iron Chef?

I love ALL the Iron Chefs! One of the best shows ever.

What are you favorite TV shows?

Deadliest Catch, Sex and the City, Check Please, Frasier, almost anything on Discovery.

How do you like being romanced?

Romance? What's that?

Every girl wants an honest man. How can you tell if a guy is honest?

Maybe every girl doesn't want an honest man. There are plenty of liars out there that have girlfriends or a wife... or both.

Do you think because of your modeling, that boyfriends are more jealous with you than if you weren't modeling?

Yes, I have noticed it in past relationships. But it isn't always the case. I don't mind some jealousy though. I don't think I could date someone who has no jealousy whatsoever with anything.

What food makes you happy?

Cajun and soul food. That is what I grew up on and it is still my favorite.

Did you grow up in Louisiana?

Basically. I grew up about 10 minutes from Louisiana, 15 minutes from the Gulf of Mexico, and 2 minutes from hell on earth.

Did you visit the beach a lot?

We pretty much lived there. It wasn't something like, if we had an extra dollar or two we would go. It was a necessity; it was included with the bills ha. We would make a few sandwiches, put some gas in the truck, my parents would get some Lone Star beer, and then we were set for a couple of days at the beach. If my dad got any vacation time, we would just stay at the beach cabins.

How was your family life growing up?

Kind of normal, kind of not. We didn't have money or anything if that is what you mean. We moved more than anyone I know. We moved so much that we rented the same house 2 different times and we built the same house 2 different times. That might not sound like too much to military brats or something, but this was all in the same little town in Texas so it's like moving 2 miles away each time. I still really don't know why we did that...

Do you have any regrets about your life in general? Or with modeling?

I am open minded to the opinions of people and never consider myself right about things that cannot be proven and other people wrong... unless it involves morals and being a good person, I know what is right with that. But people say everyone has regrets no matter what...  I don't really feel any though. But if I really had to search for something to regret I would have to tell you it hasn't happened yet. Yeah, I just confused myself also ha. If I was to regret anything in my life, it would be not staying in Texas with my family... and I don't know yet if that is the case. Only time will tell. I am just following my intuition so we will see.

Why are the kind of shoes a guy wears so important to women?

I had no idea that they were important to women. I wasn't included in that decision. And why is it? I don't know... but I do know whatever the reason is, it's retarded. There is no good reason for something like that.

Do men who nickname their penises make better lovers?

That is kind of gross... multiple penises? Hm... now that I think about it... maybe they do...

What subjects interested you in school?

Science for sure. Art also. I had an art scholarship. They took it away from me though.

When you were younger, was it obvious that you were going to get into something like modeling?

Yes and no. No because I was a total tomboy. Yes because I have always been the center of attention in some way, but doing it without being a totally loud, obnoxious jerk. Anyone would be the center of attention if they are being ridiculous.

If there was a movie made about you, who would play the part?

Juliette Lewis fo sho!

Has anything embarrassing ever happened to you during a shoot?

I really don't get embarrassed but something that would normally embarrass someone... hm... I started my period during a nude shoot ha. I dunno, that's all I can think of.

What do you think about the argument that sexually suggestive images promote the objectification of women?

Everyone is going to take things differently. We are not all, men and women, going to agree on a subject like this. This is one of those things like abortion or gay marriage... it should be left up to the person to decide what they want to do, and if someone else doesn't like it, who the fuck cares! If a female writes me and says I am making it easier for men to objectify women, fuck you. If a guy is going to objectify me because of my photos, that same guy would look at me in a parka and sweatpants and want to touch himself. If a guy wants to call me a whore because of it, that same guy would probably call his mother or wife a whore, and I am supposed to care about someone as worthless as that? Same thing with the other 2 topics previously mentioned... if you don't agree with abortion, don't have one. If you don't agree with gay marriage, don't be gay and don't marry a gay person. It is absolutely impossible for us to pass a law on such topics and have it be correct. We need to leave the situation alone and let people make their own decisions that best fit their life and the only law that should be involved is the right to be able to make that decision.

What is your personal opinion on abortion? Gay marriage? Racism?

Abortion... again, there are no exact guidelines we can go by with this. I do not think abortion should be illegal, I do think there should be a time frame of when you can have this procedure. I know that in most cases, unwanted pregnancy is due to lack of responsibility and the child shouldn't suffer because of it. BUT we are human. We fuck up. And then you have to realize that some of these pregnancies are due to sexual abuse in one way or another. Yes, the woman could have the child and give it up for adoption in these cases. They should be able to. But they should also be able to terminate the pregnancy, in a reasonable time frame, if they don't think they can handle the situation.

Gay Marriage and Racism... I am going to answer both of these at once. I cannot believe that we still have issues with this. It's disturbing to me that we are actually telling people they cannot get married because of WHO they want to marry. I have been a supporter and a partner in the Human Rights Campaign basically since it started, so that should sum up my views on that. And the fact that we still have issues with racism is fucking ridiculous and ignorant.

Has being a model ever made it difficult for people to take you seriously?

Being a female in general makes it difficult. You don't have to be a model or even extremely attractive to have to prove yourself everyday.

Does there need to be chemistry between the photographer and model to have a successful shoot?

In a way, yes. Not like a sexual connection or anything like that at all. But there needs to be an easy flow of communication, focused on work but not too serious, etc. I had one photographer hire me in Colorado when I was on a two week tour and he literally sat in a chair to take the photos and didn't say a word. 10 minutes into it, I left. Ridiculous.

What, if any, religion do you follow?

What I follow is not a religion; it is a mindset and a way of living and appreciation of life. Positivity.

What is the first joke that comes to mind?

What has 2 legs and bleeds? Half a cat.

What is your favorite animal? Color? Flower? Smell? Taste? Animal- Panda Bear, Duckbill Platypus, Skunk and Prairie Dog

Color- All greens, baby blue and my favorite color combination is red and white.

Flower- Bleeding Heart, Sunflower, Yellow Rose of Texas!

Smell- A really hot humid day in the summer of Texas when someone has just cut the grass. The beach. The way my dad smells when he comes home from work at the oil refinery. The way my fella smells when he's dirty.

Taste- Lots. Kiwi?

[downsbeatrice]

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[naoestaobemaver]

How Susan Sontag Taught Me to Think

The critic A.O. Scott reflects on the outsize influence Sontag has had on his life as a critic.

By A.O. SCOTT OCT. 8, 2019

“I spent my adolescence in a terrible hurry to read all the books, see all the movies, listen to all the music, look at everything in all the museums. That pursuit required more effort back then, when nothing was streaming and everything had to be hunted down, bought or borrowed. But those changes aren’t what this essay is about. Culturally ravenous young people have always been insufferable and never unusual, even though they tend to invest a lot in being different — in aspiring (or pretending) to something deeper, higher than the common run. Viewed with the chastened hindsight of adulthood, their seriousness shows its ridiculous side, but the longing that drives it is no joke. It’s a hunger not so much for knowledge as for experience of a particular kind. Two kinds, really: the specific experience of encountering a book or work of art and also the future experience, the state of perfectly cultivated being, that awaits you at the end of the search. Once you’ve read everything, then at last you can begin.

2 Furious consumption is often described as indiscriminate, but the point of it is always discrimination. It was on my parents’ bookshelves, amid other emblems of midcentury, middle-class American literary taste and intellectual curiosity, that I found a book with a title that seemed to offer something I desperately needed, even if (or precisely because) it went completely over my head. “Against Interpretation.” No subtitle, no how-to promise or self-help come-on. A 95-cent Dell paperback with a front-cover photograph of the author, Susan Sontag.

There is no doubt that the picture was part of the book’s allure — the angled, dark-eyed gaze, the knowing smile, the bobbed hair and buttoned-up coat — but the charisma of the title shouldn’t be underestimated. It was a statement of opposition, though I couldn’t say what exactly was being opposed. Whatever “interpretation” turned out to be, I was ready to enlist in the fight against it. I still am, even if interpretation, in one form or another, has been the main way I’ve made my living as an adult. It’s not fair to blame Susan Sontag for that, though I do.

3 “Against Interpretation,” a collection of articles from the 1960s reprinted from various journals and magazines, mainly devoted to of-the-moment texts and artifacts (Jean-Paul Sartre’s “Saint Genet,” Jean-Luc Godard’s “Vivre Sa Vie,’’ Jack Smith’s “Flaming Creatures”), modestly presents itself as “case studies for an aesthetic,” a theory of Sontag’s “own sensibility.” Really, though, it is the episodic chronicle of a mind in passionate struggle with the world and itself.

Sontag’s signature is ambivalence. “Against Interpretation” (the essay), which declares that “to interpret is to impoverish, to deplete the world — in order to set up a shadow world of ‘meanings,’ ” is clearly the work of a relentlessly analytical, meaning-driven intelligence. In a little more than 10 pages, she advances an appeal to the ecstasy of surrender rather than the protocols of exegesis, made in unstintingly cerebral terms. Her final, mic-drop declaration — “In place of a hermeneutics we need an erotics of art” — deploys abstraction in the service of carnality.

4 It’s hard for me, after so many years, to account for the impact “Against Interpretation” had on me. It was first published in 1966, the year of my birth, which struck me as terribly portentous. It brought news about books I hadn’t — hadn’t yet! — read and movies I hadn’t heard about and challenged pieties I had only begun to comprehend. It breathed the air of the ’60s, a momentous time I had unforgivably missed.

But I kept reading “Against Interpretation” — following it with “Styles of Radical Will,” “On Photography” and “Under the Sign of Saturn,” books Sontag would later deprecate as “juvenilia” — for something else. For the style, you could say (she wrote an essay called “On Style”). For the voice, I guess, but that’s a tame, trite word. It was because I craved the drama of her ambivalence, the tenacity of her enthusiasm, the sting of her doubt. I read those books because I needed to be with her. Is it too much to say that I was in love with her? Who was she, anyway?

5 Years after I plucked “Against Interpretation” from the living-room shelf, I came across a short story of Sontag’s called “Pilgrimage.” One of the very few overtly autobiographical pieces Sontag ever wrote, this lightly fictionalized memoir, set in Southern California in 1947, recalls an adolescence that I somehow suspect myself of having plagiarized a third of a century later. “I felt I was slumming in my own life,” Sontag writes, gently mocking and also proudly affirming the serious, voracious girl she used to be. The “pilgrimage” in question, undertaken with a friend named Merrill, was to Thomas Mann’s house in Pacific Palisades, where that venerable giant of German Kultur had been incongruously living while in exile from Nazi Germany.

The funniest and truest part of the story is young Susan’s “shame and dread” at the prospect of paying the call. “Oh, Merrill, how could you?” she melodramatically exclaims when she learns he has arranged for a teatime visit to the Mann residence. The second-funniest and truest part of the story is the disappointment Susan tries to fight off in the presence of a literary idol who talks “like a book review.” The encounter makes a charming anecdote with 40 years of hindsight, but it also proves that the youthful instincts were correct. “Why would I want to meet him?” she wondered. “I had his books.”

6 I never met Susan Sontag. Once when I was working late answering phones and manning the fax machine in the offices of The New York Review of Books, I took a message for Robert Silvers, one of the magazine’s editors. “Tell him Susan Sontag called. He’ll know why.” (Because it was his birthday.) Another time I caught a glimpse of her sweeping, swanning, promenading — or maybe just walking — through the galleries of the Frick.

Much later, I was commissioned by this magazine to write a profile of her. She was about to publish “Regarding the Pain of Others,” a sequel and corrective to her 1977 book “On Photography.” The furor she sparked with a few paragraphs written for The New Yorker after the Sept. 11 attacks — words that seemed obnoxiously rational at a time of horror and grief — had not yet died down. I felt I had a lot to say to her, but the one thing I could not bring myself to do was pick up the phone. Mostly I was terrified of disappointment, mine and hers. I didn’t want to fail to impress her; I didn’t want to have to try. The terror of seeking her approval, and the certainty that in spite of my journalistic pose I would be doing just that, were paralyzing. Instead of a profile, I wrote a short text that accompanied a portrait by Chuck Close. I didn’t want to risk knowing her in any way that might undermine or complicate the relationship we already had, which was plenty fraught. I had her books.

7 After Sontag died in 2004, the focus of attention began to drift away from her work and toward her person. Not her life so much as her self, her photographic image, her way of being at home and at parties — anywhere but on the page. Her son, David Rieff, wrote a piercing memoir about his mother’s illness and death. Annie Leibovitz, Sontag’s partner, off and on, from 1989 until her death, released a portfolio of photographs unsparing in their depiction of her cancer-ravaged, 70-year-old body. There were ruminations by Wayne Koestenbaum, Phillip Lopate and Terry Castle about her daunting reputation and the awe, envy and inadequacy she inspired in them. “Sempre Susan,” a short memoir by Sigrid Nunez, who lived with Sontag and Rieff for a while in the 1970s, is the masterpiece of the “I knew Susan” minigenre and a funhouse-mirror companion to Sontag’s own “Pilgrimage.” It’s about what can happen when you really get to know a writer, which is that you lose all sense of what or who it is you really know, including yourself.

8 In 2008, Farrar, Straus & Giroux, Sontag’s longtime publisher, issued “Reborn,” the first of two volumes so far culled from nearly 100 notebooks Sontag filled from early adolescence into late middle age. Because of their fragmentary nature, these journal entries aren’t intimidating in the way her more formal nonfiction prose could be, or abstruse in the manner of most of her pre-1990s fiction. They seem to offer an unobstructed window into her mind, documenting her intellectual anxieties, existential worries and emotional upheavals, along with everyday ephemera that proves to be almost as captivating. Lists of books to be read and films to be seen sit alongside quotations, aphorisms, observations and story ideas. Lovers are tantalizingly represented by a single letter (“I.”; “H”; “C.”). You wonder if Sontag hoped, if she knew, that you would be reading this someday — the intimate journal as a literary form is a recurring theme in her essays — and you wonder whether that possibility undermines the guilty intimacy of reading these pages or, on the contrary, accounts for it.

9 A new biography by Benjamin Moser — “Sontag: Her Life and Work,” published last month — shrinks Sontag down to life size, even as it also insists on her significance. “What mattered about Susan Sontag was what she symbolized,” he concludes, having studiously documented her love affairs, her petty cruelties and her lapses in personal hygiene.

I must say I find the notion horrifying. A woman whose great accomplishments were writing millions of words and reading who knows how many millions more — no exercise in Sontagiana can fail to mention the 15,000-book library in her Chelsea apartment — has at last been decisively captured by what she called “the image-world,” the counterfeit reality that threatens to destroy our apprehension of the actual world.

You can argue about the philosophical coherence, the political implications or the present-day relevance of this idea (one of the central claims of “On Photography”), but it’s hard to deny that Sontag currently belongs more to images than to words. Maybe it’s inevitable that after Sontag’s death, the literary persona she spent a lifetime constructing — that rigorous, serious, impersonal self — has been peeled away, revealing the person hiding behind the words. The unhappy daughter. The mercurial mother. The variously needy and domineering lover. The loyal, sometimes impossible friend. In the era of prestige TV, we may have lost our appetite for difficult books, but we relish difficult characters, and the biographical Sontag — brave and imperious, insecure and unpredictable — surely fits the bill.

10 “Interpretation,” according to Sontag, “is the revenge of the intellect upon art. Even more. It is the revenge of the intellect upon the world.” And biography, by the same measure, is the revenge of research upon the intellect. The life of the mind is turned into “the life,” a coffin full of rattling facts and spectral suppositions, less an invitation to read or reread than a handy, bulky excuse not to.

The point of this essay, which turns out not to be as simple as I thought it would be, is to resist that tendency. I can’t deny the reality of the image or the symbolic cachet of the name. I don’t want to devalue the ways Sontag serves as a talisman and a culture hero. All I really want to say is that Susan Sontag mattered because of what she wrote.

11 Or maybe I should just say that’s why she matters to me. In “Sempre Susan,” Sigrid Nunez describes Sontag as:

... the opposite of Thomas Bernhard’s comic “possessive thinker,” who feeds on the fantasy that every book or painting or piece of music he loves has been created solely for and belongs solely to him, and whose “art selfishness” makes the thought of anyone else enjoying or appreciating the works of genius he reveres intolerable. She wanted her passions to be shared by all, and to respond with equal intensity to any work she loved was to give her one of her biggest pleasures.

I’m the opposite of that. I don’t like to share my passions, even if the job of movie critic forces me to do it. I cling to an immature (and maybe also a typically male), proprietary investment in the work I care about most. My devotion to Sontag has often felt like a secret. She was never assigned in any course I took in college, and if her name ever came up while I was in graduate school, it was with a certain condescension. She wasn’t a theorist or a scholar but an essayist and a popularizer, and as such a bad fit with the desperate careerism that dominated the academy at the time. In the world of cultural journalism, she’s often dismissed as an egghead and a snob. Not really worth talking about, and so I mostly didn’t talk about her.

12 Nonetheless, I kept reading, with an ambivalence that mirrored hers. Perhaps her most famous essay — certainly among the most controversial — is “Notes on ‘Camp,’ ” which scrutinizes a phenomenon defined by “the spirit of extravagance” with scrupulous sobriety. The inquiry proceeds from mixed feelings — “I am strongly drawn to Camp, and almost as strongly offended by it” — that are heightened rather than resolved, and that curl through the 58 numbered sections of the “Notes” like tendrils in an Art Nouveau print. In writing about a mode of expression that is overwrought, artificial, frivolous and theatrical, Sontag adopts a style that is the antithesis of all those things.

If some kinds of camp represent “a seriousness that fails,” then “Notes on ‘Camp’ ” enacts a seriousness that succeeds. The essay is dedicated to Oscar Wilde, whose most tongue-in-cheek utterances gave voice to his deepest thoughts. Sontag reverses that Wildean current, so that her grave pronouncements sparkle with an almost invisible mischief. The essay is delightful because it seems to betray no sense of fun at all, because its jokes are buried so deep that they are, in effect, secrets.

13 In the chapter of “Against Interpretation” called “Camus’ Notebooks” — originally published in The New York Review of Books — Sontag divides great writers into “husbands” and “lovers,” a sly, sexy updating of older dichotomies (e.g., between Apollonian and Dionysian, Classical and Romantic, paleface and redskin). Albert Camus, at the time beginning his posthumous descent from Nobel laureate and existentialist martyr into the high school curriculum (which is where I found him), is named the “ideal husband of contemporary letters.” It isn’t really a compliment:

Some writers supply the solid virtues of a husband: reliability, intelligibility, generosity, decency. There are other writers in whom one prizes the gifts of a lover, gifts of temperament rather than of moral goodness. Notoriously, women tolerate qualities in a lover — moodiness, selfishness, unreliability, brutality — that they would never countenance in a husband, in return for excitement, an infusion of intense feeling. In the same way, readers put up with unintelligibility, obsessiveness, painful truths, lies, bad grammar — if, in compensation, the writer allows them to savor rare emotions and dangerous sensations.

The sexual politics of this formulation are quite something. Reading is female, writing male. The lady reader exists to be seduced or provided for, ravished or served, by a man who is either a scamp or a solid citizen. Camus, in spite of his movie-star good looks (like Sontag, he photographed well), is condemned to husband status. He’s the guy the reader will settle for, who won’t ask too many questions when she returns from her flings with Kafka, Céline or Gide. He’s also the one who, more than any of them, inspires love.

14 After her marriage to the sociologist Philip Rieff ended in 1959, most of Sontag’s serious romantic relationships were with women. The writers whose company she kept on the page were overwhelmingly male (and almost exclusively European). Except for a short piece about Simone Weil and another about Nathalie Sarraute in “Against Interpretation” and an extensive takedown of Leni Riefenstahl in “Under the Sign of Saturn,” Sontag’s major criticism is all about men.

She herself was kind of a husband. Her writing is conscientious, thorough, patient and useful. Authoritative but not scolding. Rigorous, orderly and lucid even when venturing into landscapes of wildness, disruption and revolt. She begins her inquiry into “The Pornographic Imagination” with the warning that “No one should undertake a discussion of pornography before acknowledging the pornographies — there are at least three — and before pledging to take them on one at a time.”

The extravagant, self-subverting seriousness of this sentence makes it a perfect camp gesture. There is also something kinky about the setting of rules and procedures, an implied scenario of transgression and punishment that is unmistakably erotic. Should I be ashamed of myself for thinking that? Of course! Humiliation is one of the most intense and pleasurable effects of Sontag’s masterful prose. She’s the one in charge.

15 But the rules of the game don’t simply dictate silence or obedience on the reader’s part. What sustains the bond — the bondage, if you’ll allow it — is its volatility. The dominant party is always vulnerable, the submissive party always capable of rebellion, resistance or outright refusal.

I often read her work in a spirit of defiance, of disobedience, as if hoping to provoke a reaction. For a while, I thought she was wrong about everything. “Against Interpretation” was a sentimental and self-defeating polemic against criticism, the very thing she had taught me to believe in. “On Photography” was a sentimental defense of a shopworn aesthetic ideology wrapped around a superstitious horror at technology. And who cared about Elias Canetti and Walter Benjamin anyway? Or about E.M. Cioran or Antonin Artaud or any of the other Euro-weirdos in her pantheon?

Not me! And yet. ... Over the years I’ve purchased at least three copies of “Under the Sign of Saturn” — if pressed to choose a favorite Sontag volume, I’d pick that one — and in each the essay on Canetti, “Mind as Passion,” is the most dog-eared. Why? Not so I could recommend it to someone eager to learn about the first native Bulgarian to win the Nobel Prize for Literature, because I’ve never met such a person. “Mind as Passion” is the best thing I’ve ever read about the emotional dynamics of literary admiration, about the way a great writer “teaches us how to breathe,” about how readerly surrender is a form of self-creation.

16 In a very few cases, the people Sontag wrote about were people she knew: Roland Barthes and Paul Goodman, for example, whose deaths inspired brief appreciations reprinted in “Under the Sign of Saturn.” Even in those elegies, the primary intimacy recorded is the one between writer and reader, and the reader — who is also, of course, a writer — is commemorating and pursuing a form of knowledge that lies somewhere between the cerebral and the biblical.

Because the intimacy is extended to Sontag’s reader, the love story becomes an implicit ménage à trois. Each essay enacts the effort — the dialectic of struggle, doubt, ecstasy and letdown — to know another writer, and to make you know him, too. And, more deeply though also more discreetly, to know her.

17 The version of this essay that I least want to write — the one that keeps pushing against my resistance to it — is the one that uses Sontag as a cudgel against the intellectual deficiencies and the deficient intellectuals of the present. It’s almost comically easy to plot a vector of decline from then to now. Why aren’t the kids reading Canetti? Why don’t trade publishers print collections of essays about European writers and avant-garde filmmakers? Sontag herself was not immune to such laments. In 1995, she mourned the death of cinema. In 1996, she worried that “the very idea of the serious (and the honorable) seems quaint, ‘unrealistic’ to most people.”

Worse, there are ideas and assumptions abroad in the digital land that look like debased, parodic versions of positions she staked out half a century ago. The “new sensibility” she heralded in the ’60s, “dedicated both to an excruciating seriousness and to fun and wit and nostalgia,” survives in the form of a frantic, algorithm-fueled eclecticism. The popular meme admonishing critics and other designated haters to shut up and “let people enjoy things” looks like an emoji-friendly update of “Against Interpretation,” with “enjoy things” a safer formulation than Sontag’s “erotics of art.”

That isn’t what she meant, any more than her prickly, nuanced “Notes on ‘Camp’ ” had much to do with the Instagram-ready insouciance of this year’s Met Gala, which borrowed the title for its theme. And speaking of the ’Gram, its ascendance seems to confirm the direst prophecies of “On Photography,” which saw the unchecked spread of visual media as a kind of ecological catastrophe for human consciousness.

18 In other ways, the Sontag of the ’60s and ’70s can strike current sensibilities as problematic or outlandish. She wrote almost exclusively about white men. She believed in fixed hierarchies and absolute standards. She wrote at daunting length with the kind of unapologetic erudition that makes people feel bad. Even at her most polemical, she never trafficked in contrarian hot takes. Her name will never be the answer to the standard, time-killing social-media query “What classic writer would be awesome on Twitter?” The tl;dr of any Sontag essay could only be every word of it.

Sontag was a queer, Jewish woman writer who disdained the rhetoric of identity. She was diffident about disclosing her sexuality. Moser criticizes her for not coming out in the worst years of the AIDS epidemic, when doing so might have been a powerful political statement. The political statements that she did make tended to get her into trouble. In 1966, she wrote that “the white race is the cancer of human history.” In 1982, in a speech at Town Hall in Manhattan, she called communism “fascism with a human face.” After Sept. 11, she cautioned against letting emotion cloud political judgment. “Let’s by all means grieve together, but let’s not be stupid together.”

That doesn’t sound so unreasonable now, but the bulk of Sontag’s writing served no overt or implicit ideological agenda. Her agenda — a list of problems to be tackled rather than a roster of positions to be taken — was stubbornly aesthetic. And that may be the most unfashionable, the most shocking, the most infuriating thing about her.

19 Right now, at what can feel like a time of moral and political emergency, we cling to sentimental bromides about the importance of art. We treat it as an escape, a balm, a vague set of values that exist beyond the ugliness and venality of the market and the state. Or we look to art for affirmation of our pieties and prejudices. It splits the difference between resistance and complicity.

Sontag was also aware of living in emergency conditions, in a world menaced by violence, environmental disaster, political polarization and corruption. But the art she valued most didn’t soothe the anguish of modern life so much as refract and magnify its agonies. She didn’t read — or go to movies, plays, museums or dance performances — to retreat from that world but to bring herself closer to it. What art does, she says again and again, is confront the nature of human consciousness at a time of historical crisis, to unmake and redefine its own terms and procedures. It confers a solemn obligation: “From now to the end of consciousness, we are stuck with the task of defending art.”

20 “Consciousness” is one of her keywords, and she uses it in a way that may have an odd ring to 21st-century ears. It’s sometimes invoked now, in a weak sense, as a synonym for the moral awareness of injustice. Its status as a philosophical problem, meanwhile, has been diminished by the rise of cognitive science, which subordinates the mysteries of the human mind to the chemical and physical operations of the brain.

But consciousness as Sontag understands it has hardly vanished, because it names a phenomenon that belongs — in ways that escape scientific analysis — to both the individual and the species. Consciousness inheres in a single person’s private, incommunicable experience, but it also lives in groups, in cultures and populations and historical epochs. Its closest synonym is thought, which similarly dwells both within the walls of a solitary skull and out in the collective sphere.

If Sontag’s great theme was consciousness, her great achievement was as a thinker. Usually that label is reserved for theorists and system-builders — Hannah Arendt, Jean-Paul Sartre, Sigmund Freud — but Sontag doesn’t quite belong in that company. Instead, she wrote in a way that dramatized how thinking happens. The essays are exciting not just because of the ideas they impart but because you feel within them the rhythms and pulsations of a living intelligence; they bring you as close to another person as it is possible to be.

21 “Under the Sign of Saturn” opens in a “tiny room in Paris” where she has been living for the previous year — “small bare quarters” that answer “some need to strip down, to close off for a while, to make a new start with as little as possible to fall back on.” Even though, according to Sigrid Nunez, Sontag preferred to have other people around her when she was working, I tend to picture her in the solitude of that Paris room, which I suppose is a kind of physical manifestation, a symbol, of her solitary consciousness. A consciousness that was animated by the products of other minds, just as mine is activated by hers. If she’s alone in there, I can claim the privilege of being her only company.

Which is a fantasy, of course. She has had better readers, and I have loved other writers. The metaphors of marriage and possession, of pleasure and power, can be carried only so far. There is no real harm in reading casually, promiscuously, abusively or selfishly. The page is a safe space; every word is a safe word. Your lover might be my husband.

It’s only reading. By which I mean: It’s everything.”

[caitlinmargaritareads]

Book 23- Pet Sematary by Stephen King

[Originally posted November 10, 2019]

It has taken me quite a while to articulate this review, and I’m still not 100% sure how to begin. After a week of putting pen to paper [and scratching out the pen to rewrite], I still come up short with my review for this novel. Let me start by saying it has taken a year of coaxing and talking myself up to be able to pick this book up. Over a year ago, a very kind customer of mine gave me two brown, paper sacks filled with all of her Stephen King books [partially due to my sudden interest and mostly due to her sudden need to Marie Kondo her place]. I immediately tore through The Shining, Carrie, and Misery, but subsequently had weird and unsettling dreams which made me take a break from King. Generally speaking, I like to choose titles based on the time of year [in the winter, I like to settle in with something dense that I can use as an excuse to stay in, and in the summer I opt for lighter, fun fiction that I can breeze through], so this year I decided to follow suit with Halloween and read the scariest book that I could imagine- Pet Sematary. Being an older title, many of my friends and acquaintances were excited for me to join the King Club by reading what is dubbed one of his scariest novels. I, however, had my doubts. As I’m sure has been established on here [many, many times], I am NOT a fan of horror or being scared. I will never understand why people choose to be scared and I’ve determined that it’s a switch in my brain which has been left dusty and unused [and I’m totally okay with that]. Pet Sematary forced me to take a giant leap into the unknown, and allowed me to expand my reading interests into a genre that I had only dappled in previously. I will try my best to concisely summarize the plot [emphasis on the word “try”] and then offer my own critical review of the text. As opposed to some of my other reviews, THERE ARE SPOILERS, so please be warned and skip the rest of this review if you are unfamiliar with the plot and wish to read it yourself.

The story follows the Creed family- Louis, Rachel, and their two children Ellie and Gage- as they move from Chicago to Ludlow, Maine for Louis to work as a doctor on the local college campus. As they begin exploring their new home, they meet their new neighbor, Jud Crandall, who immediately welcomes them and settles the unease that Louis had been feeling. Jud, a lifelong resident of Ludlow, gives them the lay of the land, warning them about the dangers of the main road they live on and pointing out the trailhead behind their property, on which he offers to give them a guided adventure. As promised, after a few days of unpacking and settling into their new house, Jud takes the family on a seemingly innocent trip down to the Pet Sematary- a small burial ground for the local children’s deceased pets. He shows them the space where his own childhood dog, Spot, is buried, and when asked about the deadfall of branches near the back of the sematary, he warns them to stay away. The trip to the sematary leaves the family disgruntled and unsettled- Rachel disapproves of their children’s close encounter with death, and Ellie becomes hysterically frantic that their cat, Church, will die and be put in the sematary. Louis soothes the woes and worries of his family, promising never to take his children back.

Normalcy sets in for the Creed’s, until Louis’s first day on the job when a young man named Victor Pascow is brought to the clinic. Irreparably maimed in a car accident and drawing what seem to be his last breaths, Victor comes to in Louis’s arms, grinning at Louis as he mutters this warning- “It’s not the real cemetary.” Louis, shocked by the young man’s alertness, cannot seem to respond as Victor continues, “The soil of a man’s heart is stonier, Louis… a man grows what he can… and tends to it.” Victor’s whole body dies at once, leaving Louis terrified, clutching the corpse, and grasping for some logical answer to this episode. Later that night after Louis falls asleep, Pascow comes to his bedside and guides a reluctant Louis down to the Pet Sematary. Pointing towards the deadfall behind the sematary, he warns, “Don’t go beyond, no matter how much you feel you feel you need to… the barrier was not made to be broken… Your destruction and the destruction of all you love is very near…” When Louis wakes hours later, he is convinced it was all an unsettling dream until he pulls back the sheets to reveal muddy feet covered in pine needs. The logical part of Louis’s brain takes over, trying to rationalize the insane experience. Soon the dream is all but forgotten, until the fateful day that Church is run over by a semi truck on the main road and killed.

Led by his trusty neighbor Jud, Louis has his first encounter with the Micmac burial ground beyond the deadfall, where he buries Church and is told the history of the tribe. The next day, Church saunters into the garage where Louis is working, smelling of sour earth, with pieces of plastic bag stuck in his whiskers. None too surprised, Louis brings the cat inside and feeds it, repulsed by the blasphemous presence of his daughter’s dead cat. Louis tries to rationalize with himself, thinking that the cat must’ve been stunned and not dead when he was buried. But Church does not seem to be his spry old self, walking in funny patterns and lacking the grace of a real cat, leaving Louis with a shadow of a doubt that he did, in fact, bring the cat back to life. When Ellie sees her old cat, she immediately notices the smell, and the fact that there is something off with Church. The family seems to ignore the glaring differences though, and continue on with their lives as usual while Church continues to exhibit more and more out-of-character behavior.

The plot finally comes to it’s point when their toddler Gage, is run over and killed by a semi on the main road. Distraught and unable to come to terms with his death, Louis sends his wife and daughter to Chicago to stay with his in-laws as he begins to plot his son’s second burial. Knowing what he plans to do, Jud harshly warns Louis to leave Gage in peace and tells the story of another local who brought back his son and was driven to murder/suicide after the fact. Unmoved, Louis continues with his plan and buries Gage at the Micmac burial ground. Gage comes back, possessed with unflinching evil, and murders both Jud Crandall and Rachel before Louis is able to kill him for good. Louis, unhinged by the horrors he has seen and convinced that he “waited too long” with Gage’s reburial, takes Rachel’s corpse up to the Micmac cemetery . “Darling,” it mutters, and then the story ends.

I want to start off by saying, I really liked this book. It scared the bejesus out of me, but it was so worth it. If you’ve read King, you know he likes to drag out the story [much like this particular review I’m writing]. He painfully details the protagonist’s backstory as a dramatic build up to the climax, and this can often lead some readers [myself included] to internally scream, “GET ON WITH IT!” However, with Pet Sematary I feel as if this technique truly lent to the creation of the story and was absolutely essential to the climax of the plot. While the idea of a cemetery in general gives me the creeps, what is even more unsettling is the slow unraveling of Louis’s mind. Whenever he tries to make logical sense of a situation [i.e. Church’s resurrection], he compromises another piece of his rational mind, and the more he does this, the more likely he is to do something rash and unreasonable. Now, I would make the argument that the presence of the Micmac burial ground [and it’s demons, spirits, etc.] are mainly responsible for the undoing of Louis Creed. I enjoy when a supernatural entity is the antagonist [its extra spooky when an unseeable evil occupies any story], and King does a grand job of creating this wicked presence which subtly alters and influences the minds of anyone who has visited the Micmac burial ground. Jud himself admits to wrong-doing by bringing Louis there, claiming there is a draw to the burial ground for all who have visited, and it is presumed that anyone who has been there will fall under the same spell. Talk about creepy!

The one thing I have an issue with is how quickly Gage is resurrected and then killed again. Now, don’t get me wrong, every single word that involved zombie Gage is horrifying and left knots in my stomach- Even now, I shudder as I think of Gage taunting Jud in his own kitchen before going in for the kill. BUT, it seemed to me that after ALL that build up, we should’ve gotten more time with possessed toddler Gage before he gets killed. The other point which had no resolution, and which I did not summarize, is Ellie’s sudden onset of clairvoyance after Gage’s death. As soon as her little brother dies, Ellie begins having horrible dreams about her family and the Pet Sematary. When Louis sends Ellie and Rachel back to Chicago, Ellie goes insane with worry and anxiety, convinced that something horrible is going to happen to Louis [or happen because of Louis] in their absence. In her dreams, Paxcow [aka Victor Pascow] comes to her, warning that Louis is in danger. When they finally get to Chicago, Ellie’s hysteria becomes so uncontrollable that Rachel decides to immediately turn around and go back to Ludlow to check on Louis [which is how she ends up murdered by her dead son]. King, however, does not go back to Ellie at all once Rachel leaves Chicago. This leads the reader to question what Ellie may already know, and whether or not she will end up back in Ludlow with her insane father and re-animated mother. My hope is that Ellie stays with her grandparents and never has to see her parents again- and maybe, hopefully, we get a sequel a la Doctor Sleep?!

All in all, this book was fantastically horrifying in all the right ways. I truly understand why this book is considered one of King’s best and most terrifying novels, and I would say I have to agree. If you’re a fan of a good thriller, and this review hasn’t completely ruined your will to read it, I recommend giving it a try. I’d loan you mine, but the back cover just fell off. If you’ve made it through this review, congratulations! I am currently cross eyed and giving up on any further edits or alterations.

5 out of 5 stars

[salmankhanholics]

★ INTERVIEW: Salman Khan On Ghosts Of His Past, Attempts Of Image Rehabilitation, And Why Critics Don't Matter !

In an exclusive interview, Khan opens up like never before.

15/06/2017 | Ankur Pathak

It's no secret that Salman Khan has a rather whimsical equation with the press. Whenever I have seen him at events and press conferences, the actor either appears distracted and zoned out or the opposite: funny, attentive, and in the mood to have a baller time.

On Wednesday evening at Bandra's Taj Lands End, Salman is busy gorging on keema pao, straight from the containers of the buffet spread. At the same time, he's also talking to a journalist, calling Pritam, the music composer, 'lethargic and lazy.'

While I worry he'll be his usual inattentive self, Salman, dressed in a black tee and a black denim, takes a smoke break. His film, Tubelight, is days away from release and the pressure is palpable. Khan's eyes look droopy, his gait, tired. He is not only acting in the film but also producing and distributing it.

After waiting for over two hours (that'd come at the cost of standing up a date), Khan sits with me for a chat. Excerpts:

Kabir Khan's Tubelight once again portrays you as a sincere, innocuous, do-gooder who's just too nice to do any wrong -- a trend that started with Bajrangi Bhaijaan and was seen in Prem Ratan Dhan Payo too. What draws you to these characters?

Like you said, the niceness of it. But with Tubelight, my agenda is different -- after the film, I want brothers, who may not have spoken to one another in months and years, to call each other up and forget the differences, if they had any. I want them to be so emotionally overcome that they just let past differences aside and say, "Hey man, let's party." Many times, in our families, we end up cutting ourselves away from our siblings. Sometimes the issues are trivial, sometimes serious. But why let it affect you? I hope Tubelight can achieve that. It touches on those emotions. This film is beautifully shot. It's also styled very well by Lepakshi Ellawadi, who did Sultan and is doing Tiger Zinda Hai.

But Salman, do you actually believe films can end family feuds and change people's lives?

Absolutely. I've seen films that have changed my life. And trust me, if a film can change me, out of all people, a film can change anyone. It is the only medium that has such a huge influence on your psyche. When you sit in that dark room and see a character, you are also internally absorbing its ideas and traits.

When you see nobility being projected by a hero, you are inspired to emulate it. This is one of the reasons why I haven't ever played a negative character. Negativity in a character doesn't impress me. Say if you have a character who earns a living through corrupt means, man, that puts me off. I will never play a dark character. Underdogs impress me. Those who make it against all odds impress me. I want to tell their stories.

But doesn't that limit you as an actor? A lot of great performances in cinema have come from actors who've played dark, twisted, villainous roles.

Well, I don't know. From the stuff I do, a Dabangg is a character that is sort of, somewhere-in-between. His intentions are good, actions aren't all that good. So you try and balance that off. My next, Tiger Zinda Hai, also veers in the grey area. I am also doing a crazy dance film. So while I do wanna portray characters which are inherently nice, I don't want them to be one-dimensional. It has to have style and swag and some depth.

While your popularity in the country is undeniably huge, I believe there is a certain section in the audience who aren't your fans and perhaps, they'll never be. While some don't want to be seen endorsing your brand of cinema, some will find hard to appreciate even a good film only because you are in it. A lot, I think, has to do with the notoriety of your past.

Well, I don't know. I move around and meet all sorts of people but funnily, I have never been told that. Neither have I noticed that. But if you say so, all I can say is that I will probably have to work that much harder to win them over. I know it won't happen overnight but I can only hope that some day they'll warm up to me as an artist.

Do you feel you are unfairly judged by your critics?

I genuinely, honestly don't care. I believe that they've no right to take anybody's hard work down. The fans will decide that, in any case. The box-office will prove it one way or the other. What have you done to earn the right to rip a film apart? On Day 1 of the release, you write some rubbish crap. It destroys films and a lot of hard work that went behind making it. With me, of course, it doesn't make any difference. And I think they know it all too well. My films are critic-proof. I am telling them now: go give my film minus 100 stars, why just zero. Let's see how that pans out. My fans will anyway watch my film and that's my reward. It only makes them look like a bunch of idiots.

My films are critic-proof. I am telling them now: go give my film minus 100 stars, why just zero. Let's see how that pans out. My fans will anyway watch my film and that's my reward. It only makes them look like a bunch of idiots.

I am pretty sure that our critics aren't under the delusion that they can influence the market of a Salman Khan film. What I want to know is -- what is your analysis? Why do you think they are so insanely crazy about Salman? I cannot even send a negative tweet about you without getting massively trolled by this insane sub-culture of bhaifans.

I don't know. Maybe they think I'm one of them. Maybe they think I am just a regular dude who's chill and approachable and has no airs of being a superstar. And I have remained like that right from the start. I lived in Indore in a boarding school until the age of 16. That really grounded me. I hung around on the streets, went to the farms. There's nothing fancy about my life. I like cycling around the city, I hop into an auto-rickshaw now and then. I don't drive a big car -- I hate big cars. Maybe that, along with the kind of films I do, make them think I'm, I don't know, accessible in a way?

I don't drive a big car -- I hate big cars.

Perhaps. It's hard to decode stardom.

It is. I just think I am a guy who lucked out. Mostly because of the family I was born in. I am immensely fortunate to have the kind of family and friends and the fans I have. Some people come to me and tell me that their children are yet to talk but if they see a Salman Khan song, they jump, react, laugh. They can recall me by my name. Earlier it used to be Prem and Chulbul but now it's Salman.

I don't get it. There are children and youngsters who idolize you and have deified you. They look up to you, want to emulate you, carry your style. But I believe you're obviously a very flawed person to idolize. You've had some very serious court cases against you. Why should anybody just forget and forgive and move on to your next blockbuster?

Everybody has a past. Does that make you a bad person for life? In my case, there is deliberate malice. When people go after you for something you have not done, it's bad. Next thing you know you are running around courts and people are judging you.

For 20 years. 20 years is a long time, man. It's a lot of years. It takes a toll on you and your family. The financial toll on our family because of the cases has been huge.

For 20 years. 20 years is a long time, man. It's a lot of years. It takes a toll on you and your family. The financial toll on our family because of the cases has been huge.

When I was a nobody I had nothing. (Pauses) When I become somebody, I got the magistrate court. When I become slightly bigger, I got the High Court, then. And now when I am in this position, I have the Supreme Court.

Well, something awful did happen. It's not going to leave you.

It will leave me. It's God's way of anchoring me down. If these things didn't happen, I would have lost the plot by now. That's how I see it. It's my journey and whatever it takes, I will go through it. Thankfully, I have family and friends who've stood by me and pointed out whatever happened wasn't correct.

How do you deal with these ghosts of the past, Salman?

I don't have any ghosts. These ghosts have been created by people who are running businesses on them. There are so many incidents like mine that happened and nobody ever talks about them. Whenever there's a hit-and-run that happens anywhere, they drag me into it all over again. I mean, what the hell, come on, man. How much will you go on and on...

Whenever there's a hit-and-run that happens anywhere, they drag me into it all over again.

That's because some do think you got away with it quite easily.

...well, the High Court looked into it and they came up with a verdict which says that nothing of that sort ever happened. Ye sab galat hi hai. The courts said it. But what about the 20 years? What about it? Mere toh wo gaye na? And there's nothing to compensate for that. Nothing at all. And during all this, when I am seen doing a comedy show, or romancing beautiful women, or just laughing, they go like, "Look at this brat. He doesn't care. He is indifferent to what happened." And I am like, dude. It's my bloody job. I have to do it no matter what. I have to do it to sustain myself and pay my lawyers. If I don't do it, where is the money going to come from?

The idea still lingers around that you got away with it because you are a powerful movie star.

Which is not at all true. It's not true. It's all nautanki (mischief). Even now there are 5 out of job people who'll show up on television to debate my case. Some for, some against. It's ridiculous. None of them would have happened if I wasn't a star. None of it.

There's an argument that your Being Human charitable trust has been cleverly designed to rehabilitate your image. That, along with your Mr. Good Boy roles, carves a certain perspective that glosses over your moral transgressions.

Do you have any idea of the amount of work we do at Being Human? We do s***loads of work on a daily basis. I haven't even put my name there, man. It's Being Human. I am not even on the Board or any of the trustees. The idea is that years from now, people should forget who even started the foundation. You have no idea, man. Do one thing: Come and live my life for one day.

(Gets up and walks away)

Huffington Post India

[thelongestdamnreviews]

E.Y.E Divine Cybermancy

The title screen always shows these Artefacts with no context or apparent relevance to the game.  

I can't remember when I got EYE or how much I've paid for it, but it's been as cheap as 99 cents before and it was at one time given out as a gag gift for Christmas, like Secret of the Magic Crystals or Bad Rats.  Don't let that speak of its quality, though.  I also didn't record how long one go-through was, but I've also gone through this game around three times before writing this review, and I of course lost that save.  I played EYE entirely with keyboard and mouse.  

I've heard EYE be described as Deus Ex set in the Warhammer 40,000 universe (not officially of course), and though I don't know much about the latter series, it does kinda play a bit like the first Deus Ex.  There's a grid inventory, your crosshairs shrink when you stand still, augmentations, skills affecting performance like an RPG even though it's an FPS--that sorta thing.  You're one of the elite Culter Dei, one of the sects of EYE, which is itself a branch of the Secreta.  And you've just woken in a cave with severe wounds and amnesia.  Things are pretty bad elsewhere, too.  Looters are everywhere, the Federation is investigating your employers, you're in a secret civil war with another sect of EYE, and there's this Metastreumonic Force that's creating monsters out of our darkest fears and desires.  Plenty of targets...right?

Not...what I was going for there.  

EYE starts with you rolling stats.  Pick three genes and hit Reroll until they look good to you.  High Strength lets you hit harder with melee weapons, high Endurance lets you take more damage, high Hacking makes the hacking minigame easier, etc.  What I thought was kinda nice is that there are two ways to manage your stats:  The first is to manually assign your three stat points you receive on level-up.  You can play any way you like and you have fine control over how your character develops.  The second way is to let the game automatically assign your points based on how you play.  If you shoot enemies a lot, you gain points in Accuracy; if you get shot a lot, Endurance, and so on.  Most people would go for the first but it's kinda interesting to see how you develop with the second method, which I did this time around.  While there is a pretty big variety of weapons and augmentations and powers available by default, there are many that require specific stats on top of the need for research and money too.    

As for weapons, you have melee weapons, handguns, assault rifles, shotguns, sniper rifles, heavy weapons, and a couple of other categories.  Though there is a grid inventory, it is broken up into regions unlike Deus Ex's single big block.  What this means is that you are usually limited on the guns you can carry since several of them are only big enough to fit in your big 3x5 slot on your back.  Not to say you can only take one gun with you--handguns and the basic submachine gun can fit in your lower leg slots, but you'll likely be filling your arm/shoulder/upper leg slots with ammo.  And this game did something I've rarely seen in other FPSes though it does come up--if you reload, you lose all of the ammo in your current mag no matter how full it was.  You need to strike a good balance between literally wasting ammo and having enough loaded to take out your enemies without being forced to reload under fire.  There's also a weight system where your choice of light/medium/heavy armor and all of your current gear slows you down, but I was pretty much at the 95% encumbered limit anyway.  Several weapons have a firing mode toggle, like the HS010 submachine gun drastically boosting its fire rate at the cost of accuracy.  

Some enemies need armor-piercing attacks to kill them, like this Cyberdemon Deus Ex Machina.

I didn't really do much with the magic/powers, the enhancements, or even the augmentations.  There doesn't seem to be something like a basic fireball, but you can instead teleport into your enemy and telefrag him.  Or with one of the end-of-route powers, cause your enemy to get hurt when you do and you heal when you hurt him.  There weren't too many but you start with being able to make several weak clones of yourself that can attack the enemy and being able to convert dropped weapons and ammo into health.  Augmentations are things like invisibility, making your shots 100% accurate, being able to see in the dark, and so on.  Both powers and augmentations (and sprinting and superjumps) used your slowly-regenerating stamina bar, which refills faster by crouching.  I very often found myself running low but that was due to my build and the lack of upgrades.  Finally, enhancements are largely stat buffs, things like "run faster and jump higher with Cyber Legs" or "take less headshot damage with this upgrade" and so on.  

There are many Research projects to find.  Kill an enemy and they might drop a silver briefcase which contains a random project which you can then pay scientists to research for you, with an inversely-proportional slider for the speed of research versus the cost.  Thankfully it doesn't take real-time days and hours to resolve.  Once finished, you're given a notification and that research is permanently unlocked and you are able to move to the next thing to research.  There's still a bit of a random element since you cannot unlock the entire research tree without these drops.  But researching is always worth it, and I'd very strongly suggest researching the Medkit ASAP because it is the only other way to heal other than one of your starting spells.  You'll be using it a lot, believe me.  

I wonder what kinda work she does?  There are a lot of adverts up in some areas, and more than a few are suggestive.  

This game does have three different routes, though the split is pretty far in the game.  There are some different ways to approach mission objectives, but not to the extent of Deus Ex (the 'number of ways to solve a locked door' image doesn't apply here).  Several maps have optional sidequests though it's hard to tell what is and isn't required to advance the main mission since they all use the same marker/icon.  What's neat is being able to load a Temple HQ game and be able to visit any map you've cleared previously.  You're given a set of objectives, but you're largely there to farm enemies for EXP and money.  The maps themselves are pretty big and there are no loading screens except when you load them initially, like with other Source engine games.  The wait times on an SSD are pretty minor. 

Music is pretty ambient and voiced dialog is apparently not in any actual language, but it's there.  I had a bit of slowdown in graphics but I don't know how well the "Source game so you can run it on a toaster" applies here because the game can throw quite a lot of mooks at you in these huge levels--and there are even options to make it do just that.  Scenery isn't even what I'd call pretty because it ascribes to the "real is brown/grey" idea, but maybe that's the point.  Part of the backstory is that the Metastreumonic Force apparently cropped up because of aggressive ecological destruction and expansionism by human hands, so places looking dull helps with that.  A few areas were incredibly dark and I had to crank up the gamma just to see.  

No wonder your side wants to nuke their side.  The dialog options usually aren’t so vulgar, but...

As for low points, the story is there but it's pretty hard to wrap your head around.  I used to say that the story was incomprehensible, but it's just...weird.  Some of the dialog comes off as poorly-translated, but I don't know if the translation was improved in EYE's big update a couple of years ago.  You're probably not going to play for the story, though there's a pretty interesting one to dig up.  And I didn't really like the hacking minigame, though you're thankfully not pitted against hardy targets the few times the game forces you to do it.  And I had bad stats for it too.  You're able to hack not only machines in a radius around you, but people too, either letting you see the world through their eyes, force them to fight for you...or just outright kill them.  You select your target, your intended result, and you're given a choice of viruses that influence your/your foe's stats, with the goal of reducing their Cyber HP to 0 before they do the same to you.  You click, wait for a bar to fill, and click when that finishes while your enemy loads their own viruses and attacks.  Not very interesting, but I imagine it'd be completely trivial with the right stats.  And, this is one of the few games where an ATM can kill you by botching a hacking attempt.  

Achievement hunters might not like the "kill an X" achievements being entirely random, but all the more reason to just keep killing dudes, right?

I enjoyed it, though it's pretty rough around the edges and the difficulty is all over the place.  Even if it plays a lot like Deus Ex, it still does its own thing pretty well and there are zero non-fatal options here, though there's always the potential for stealth or different playstyles.  There's coop up to 32 players though I never got to try it.  It'll take a pretty long time to get max level and especially to boost all of the enhancements to max level, but there's always a bunch of mooks to go kill to fuel your need for power.  There is some replay value in just making different builds, at least.  It's certainly worth a try!  

[jamieclawhorn]

Should you wait until post Brexit to get a new credit card?

Is it wise to take out a new credit card while there is so much uncertainty surrounding the UK’s exit from the EU? Looking at the data, it seems that Brexit may have spooked many consumers.

The Bank of England’s most recent Credit Conditions Survey showed that lenders expect to see a significant decrease in demand for credit card lending in the first quarter of 2019. If you’re in the market looking for a credit card, should you follow the crowd and hold off? Here we look at the pros and cons of taking out a new credit card before the 29th March 2019 deadline.

Reasons to wait to take out a card until after Brexit

Let’s start with the “pro” argument for sitting on your hands and not taking out a card until after the Brexit deadline has passed.

Uncertain economic conditions – The UK as a whole is in limbo. Since there is no definitive plan for Brexit as yet, the country is facing an unknown economic future. With a no-deal Brexit looking like a potential outcome, the impact on the UK economy could be significant.

Even if a deal is agreed, there is likely to be a period of adjustment when the country breaks away from the EU. Taking on unsecured debt in an uncertain economic climate could be a risk. With that in mind, it largely depends on what you plan to use your card for and how confident you are of your own personal circumstances. The risk is that you take on a new card and are unable to make the minimum monthly payments, leading to penalty fees and high interest charges on the unpaid debt.

Less enticing deals – There was a significant decrease in the length of interest-free periods available for balance transfers and new purchases at the end of 2018. This followed the trend of recent years, with lenders gradually reducing their interest-free offers. This trend is likely the result of many factors, but Brexit on the horizon could be part of it.

Either way, there are fewer competitive deals available than there were six months ago. It’s hard to tell if lenders will offer longer terms once we pass the deadline of 29th March 2019, but if Britain can find itself on a more secure economic footing, credit card offers could potentially become more tempting again.

Reasons to take a card out before Brexit

Now let’s look at the flip side and run through the arguments in favor of snapping up a card prior to 29th March.

Interest rates could rise – We have seen the Bank of England base rate slowly creep up over the past year, and with the impact of Brexit interest rates could potentially rise further (although the Bank did vote to keep interest rates at 0.75% in February 2019). While the base rate doesn’t directly impact credit card borrowers, it does increase the cost of borrowing for banks and building societies, which they could pass on to consumers in the form of higher APRs.

However, providers are unable to change your terms if you’ve had a card for under 12 months and they will have to notify you of any changes to your APR so that you could close your account and pay off your balance at the original rate. Basically, the newer the card, the less likely you are to be impacted by an increase in credit card interest rates.

You could also look at securing yourself an interest-free offer on either balance transfers or new purchases in order to protect yourself from rate rises in the near future.

There’s no harm in grabbing a deal – If you have seen a great cashback offer or rewards credit card then there is no real reason to wait until after 29th March to grab it. Brexit definitely has the country spooked and sometimes it feels that the safest thing to do is nothing at all. But that may not be the case and there is no reason to miss out on a great offer just because you are waiting to see how Brexit play out.  

What should I do?

As with anything, you would need to make a decision based on your own personal circumstances. The reality is that the UK is facing a very uncertain economic future, with several predictions of a potential recession in 2019.

If you are confident that you can conduct sensible borrowing practices and pay off your balance in full each month, then there shouldn’t be a large negative impact in taking out a card before the Brexit deadline. However, no matter what happens on 29th March, it remains that wise borrowing behaviour pays off over the long term. And if you stay close to that, then it may not matter what Brexit throws at you…at least when it comes to your credit card situation. 

Check out our list of the best 0% credit cards for 2019

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