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tanadrin · 5 years

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Of Things Remembered

“Wake up.”

The scene around me swam and reformed itself as the young man opened his eyes. The generic room was replaced by a modest stone cell. A little table appeared in the corner, where one dim candle flickered, casting a dim light over a couple of books and some parchment. An evening chill swept in from the narrow window that appeared, and outside I could see the stars, undimmed by any city lights or orbitals. I switched over to the full baseline human sense-simulation, and inhaled slowly. The evening air was fragrant and damp, like a rainstorm had just passed. Through the door I could hear voices far down the hall, rising and falling together, perhaps in prayer.

"Everything is fine, but you need to wake up.” He seemed to be more alert now; his eyes were searching about the room; he was confused, but calm. When his gaze finally came to rest on me, he looked me up and down for a long time before he said anything. I glanced down at myself to make sure my appearance wasn’t too unusual. I fit into the room, now: I was dressed in plain homespun cloth, with simple leather slippers, and my hair hung loosely around my ears.

“Are you all right?” I said.

He nodded. “Yes. Yes, I think so. I must have been… sleeping very deeply. Dreaming about something. But I can’t remember what.”

“The deepest of sleep. And I’m sorry to wake you from a well-deserved rest, but we needed to have a conversation. I’m Nolla.”

“Will,” he said. “The brothers call me Long Will, on account of my height.” He turned one ear toward the door. “Shouldn’t we be at matins?”

“Don’t worry about that for the moment,” I said. “We have more important matters to attend to.”

Skipping prayers didn’t seem to sit well with him, but he didn’t object. He sat up and looked at me more closely. I turned to the little table and picked up his candle, holding it my lap so he could see better.

“I don’t think I know you,” he said. “Are you one of the novices?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m just a friend. A guide. I’m here to help you through a difficult transition.”

Will furrowed his brow. “What sort of transition?”

“We’ll get to that. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Yesterday, I was…” His voice trailed off. “Funny. I don’t remember what I was doing yesterday. Or the day before that.”

“What do you remember?”

“That I should be at matins. That the abbot gets quite cross with lazy brothers. I spend most of my time when I’m not at prayer copying the books, and helping Brother Stephen in the kitchen. But I’m looking forward to summer. It does me good to spend some time outdoors, helping with the planting. I… I’m sorry, I’m feeling a bit foggy.”

“You’ve been asleep for a very long time. It’s quite natural. I just want to make sure you’re feeling all right.”

“Are you a doctor? Have I been ill?”

“In a manner of speaking. Tell me about specific events you remember. Start with your life just before you came to the monastery.”

“Well, I’m from the village originally. My parents suggested the religious life, and it always felt right to me. I remember leaving home, coming to live here as a novice. I remember being nervous, meeting the abbot for the first time. Learning to read and write. I remember… I remember the time Brother Laurence and I got lost in the woods, and we were terribly worried, and tired and hungry, but Brother Hugh found us. We laughed about it later, how stupid we had been. It feels like it was a long time ago, but for the life of me I can’t say when. I suppose it could have been just yesterday.”

“It was a long time ago,” I said. “All these things were.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“More than ten thousand years,” I said gently.

Will smiled, then laughed. “Oh, you’re very funny.”

I shook my head. “I’m quite serious.”

“Yes, long enough for everything in the world to pass away and to start over from the beginning, so it’s exactly as I left it.”

“It isn’t, Will,” I said. “This, everything you see around you, is an illusion for your benefit.”

I let the simulation flicker, just for a second; I didn’t want to scare him, but I wanted to show him I wasn’t lying. For just a moment the walls and the table and the bed under him disappeared, and the dark hills and the stars and the moon beyond were visible where the cell had been; and then they were back, as solid as they had been before. Will’s face went deadly serious.

“Is this heaven or hell, then?” he said.

“Neither. You’re not dead. Not anymore. You don’t have to be afraid; nothing’s going to hurt you or cause you pain. I’m sorry for the deception, but we wanted you to wake up in a place that would be somewhat familiar to you, to make sure you felt at ease.”

Will ran his hands over the blanket, and the wall beside his bed; he rubbed his fingertips together, staring at them intently.

“All this feels very real,” he said.

“The mind is a powerful thing,” I said. “Yours is in a kind of in-between state right now. A place where we can take your memories and the sensations you know and show them to you in great detail. And where our illusion might be imperfect or incorrect, your mind will supply the little details and corrections needed to make it feel solid and consistent. But please believe me: we have no malice in our hearts. All this is for your benefit.”

“I believe you,” Will said. “Or I would like to, which maybe amounts to the same thing.”

I smiled and nodded. “Very good. Then we have overcome our first hurdle.”

“What… what has happened to me?”

I took a deep breath. “Will Long of Hythe, in Kent. You were born sometime in the late thirteenth century A.D., you died of natural causes, an old and well-respected man, abbot of this monastery, in 1334. You spent your life as a monk, serving God and your community, and because of your reputation and your position, you were remembered long enough for your name to enter the local histories, along with a few lines of your biography. You took to poetry later in life, and composed several hymns, and a few fables based on local legend. Most of the manuscripts that contained copies of your work were lost in the Dissolution of the Monasteries in the 16th century, but twelve manuscript folio, on which you were named as the author of the verses contained therein, were discovered deep in a London archive almost six hundred years later. These were the basis of an influential study of your life and work, about half solid historical investigation and about half clever speculation, by a PhD candidate--a doctor of philosophy in training, that is--in 2135. We used that study as the starting point for bringing you back.”

“You said I wasn’t dead.”

“You are speaking to me now. You hear me speak to you. You are sensing, thinking, feeling. Yes, you are not dead.”

“But I died. Long, long ago.”

“Yes. You did.”

“And you brought me back? That’s not possible.”

“Debatable,” I said. “By which I mean, we do debate it. Some would say, you are not Will Long. Will Long ceased to be when his heart stopped beating and his eyes were closed and he was laid to rest beneath the earth; and you are a new person, with the same name, and many of the same memories and thoughts and feelings. And some would say, it is the pattern that makes a man who he is. That just as if you take a tapestry and pick it apart into individual threads, if you weave it back together again, is not the same image? What if you replace one thread? One hundred threads? One thousand? And there are others who grant that while you may not have to use the same threads, if you make any error at all in the weaving-together, it is a different image. To which I say, does it matter, if it looks the same to the observer?”

Will closed his eyes and rubbed his head. “You’re talking in riddles. I need specifics. What did you do? How did you make this? Make… me?”

I leaned back in my chair. “I will try to explain this as succinctly and accurately as I can, but your language lacks many of the words I need, because your world lacked many of the things we used, and the words to describe them. But our methods are all the methods of the natural world, all the methods of good and honest philosophy, all knowable to a man like you if he has enough learning.

“There are methods of mathematics, like the algebra of the east, but much more sophisticated, by which one can infer missing quantities among vast collections of information. Some of these are very precise; some of these cannot produce precise knowledge, but only approximate knowledge--yet often that approximate knowledge can, by successive application of different methods, be narrowed to a very small range. As though,” and I gestured now at the books on the table, “you open a manuscript to find one word blotted out; yet if it is short, and begins ‘th-’ you know it is ‘the’ or ‘thee’ or ‘thou,’ and not ‘through’ or ‘thorough.’ Or as though a line is missing from a piece of poetry; and while two other copies agree on what the missing line is, a third disagrees--but you judge the two that agree are more likely to be correct.

“And these mathematics are so complicated and so difficult that a whole city of human calculators might work for centuries and accomplish but a small piece of a modest puzzle to which they are applied. But in the many centuries after your death, we have developed tools to aid us. First, they were based on the same principles which drive clockwork, like more sophisticated clocks capable of performing arithmetic quickly, by the means of levers and gears. The same machines, using the same principles, were made more sophisticated and swifter in their operation over time--and eventually we stopped using clockwork, and started using other physical principles to operate them. But the underlying logic of their design was the same. Though they appeared as though they could perform wondrous feats that had nothing to do with mere mathematics, mere mathematics was the foundational principle of their operation; and they could accomplish no wonder that could not in some sense be reduced to a question of numbers and the operations of numbers.”

“I am afraid I don’t know much about mathematics,” Will said. “All this sounds quite fanciful to me.”

“Then let us speak of words--for it was another insight of later days that mathematics is not so different from language, and the philosophers of those days used one word to unite the two, the word ‘information.’ The theory of information was found to be a useful tool for examining the natural world, just as you might use your eyes or your ears, or, in dark places, search instead with your hands. And using the tools provided by the theory of information, we came to believe our ability to recover things that were lost now extended to the memories and feelings and thoughts of those who had long been dead. Especially those who had left some testimony of themselves behind. And we hoped, maybe--perhaps an arrogant hope, I admit--that by the application of these techniques to recover lost lives, we might from the shape of those lost lives then discern the shapes of other lives, previously invisible to us, and recover those as well--and so on and so forth. And that therefore we might hope one day to return to life all those who had ever lived and died, to rescue them from their long sleep.”

Will laughed. “Are you so impatient for the day of judgement?”

I smiled. “Nothing like that, I assure you. We don’t judge, Will. We don’t condemn. We don’t pick and choose, either. We intend to resurrect the good and the bad alike. The deserving and the undeserving. Those great and those petty, those high-minded and those mean. Our labor, which we grant might never be completed, is not to play God, and to ensure each man receives his deserved fate, but only to redeem. Without preference or favor. There is only one restriction we place on ourselves.

“And what’s that?”

“We don’t bring back people who, according to our reconstruction, would prefer not to exist. There are some who suffered greatly before their death, whose suffering can be amended, whose hearts can be made whole. But there are some who, we know, prefer to sleep. We study them, to understand them, but we do not bring them unwilling back into the world. That would be a great cruelty. We create--or recreate--no life which would, we think, prefer not to exist. And for those about whom we are uncertain, we bring them back only long enough to ask them. Which is why you are here.”

Will looked surprised at this. “If you have such power over life and death, why not make everyone want to live?”

“Because then they wouldn’t be themselves.”

“But you don’t know that they’re themselves. You don’t even know for sure that you’re not just… writing new books. Writing new stories, weaving new tapestries, that have nothing to do with the old ones. If your machines are wrong, if your philosophy in error, perhaps you are only raising up new ghosts who remember a fiction.”

“Perhaps,” I said. “Would you like to know my thoughts on the matter?”

“Certainly.”

“Then I believe this: that it doesn’t matter. If you are exactly like Will Long of Kent in every particular, it may even be that our philosophy is in complete error and that there is some vital spark, some privileged point of view, which the old Will Long bore in himself and which was extinguished on his death; and that any vital spark you possessed, any point of view you hold, is but another very like it. Yet please believe me when I say that there are very good reasons to believe that that is not the case, reasons which are not beyond your capacity for understanding, but which nevertheless are beyond the learning you possess right now.

“Yet even if it is not so--that you are unlike Will Long in some little particular, or unlike him in very great ways, such that you are simply a new person who shares his name and is inclined to produce poetry in a similar style--you nonetheless think and feel and act according to your own preferences and desires, and that we must respect those preferences and desires. And to wantonly interfere with them--to insist that every soul we call forth must share our preference for existing, and our view of the world--would indeed be arrogance. You might not be the old Will Long, but you are a Will Long, and worthy of our respect.”

This seemed to satisfy him. “But have you never found your mathematics to be in error? Have you never had to revise them? Does this never change how you might weave the threads together?”

“It can happen,” I said. “We do not need to bring forth the soul entirely to understand it; they can be studied while they sleep. But those of us who do guide the souls we call forth have a pragmatic view of things. Were we to discover, say, some new poem of Will Long’s, we would incorporate that into what we knew about you. If it only changed our view of you a little, it would hardly be worth recreating you. Though we might ask you if you wanted that knowledge incorporated into yourself, which we could do. But if it changed how we understood you drastically, it might be worth it to create another Will Long. But that would have no affect on you. The world is very wide now. There is space for many people like you, and each adds their own particular distinction and joy to it.

“But this rarely happens. We have long since ceased to die of mere old age; the world is full of what would seem to you like miracles. And for thousands of years before the calling-forth of souls began, we were laying the groundwork for the great project, studying history in every minutia, compiling great libraries of information, libraries greater than any you have imagined. It is not impossible that we might discover some new information we have long overlooked, but it is a rare thing. Though I cannot say it is impossible.”

“And you want to know if I… accept this?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t know my answer?”

“It was one of the very few things we could not determine in advance.”

Will was quiet for a long time.

“What happens if I say no?”

“You can lie down and go back to sleep. This strange little dream will fade. We’ll keep a record of you, and use it to help further our studies, but you’ll never be called forth again. We’ll never disturb or trouble you, and you can await the end of days, or whatever comes after, in a dreamless slumber.”

“And if I say yes?”

“Then you have another choice to make. What life do you want to live? You can stay here, in the place that was your home in life. Or you can step out into the world.”

“What’s it like out there?”

“It’s hard to explain. It would require a long, slow transition, unless you were very adamant about going out immediately; but I must warn you, others have done that, and found it very trying. The world is full of many wonderful things, but also many unfamiliar perils. You have little of the background knowledge required to understand it; and those who live there see things very differently than you do. But if you are curious and generous of spirit, you can adapt.

“We are all human out there, after our fashion, though we might not seem it at first. In some ways our various lineages long ago diverged, to say nothing of the ones, like mine, that began within the machines built to understand the universe. But we remain united by certain common sentiments and hopes which are not alien to you.”

“What if I wish to remain? What is this place, anyway?”

“An illusion of information. A kind of dream, perhaps, but one inhabited by very real people, like yourself. You can stay here, and we can give you a light and pleasant dream of your life forever, if you want. Or we can link your simulation to the simulations of others like you, so that you are not alone.”

“How long have I to decide?”

“As long as you like. There’s no hurry.”

“That’s a relief.”

He looked out the window at the stars.

“Tell me, if you know. I have always wondered. What are those, anyway, out there in the sky? What are they made of?”

“They are suns like our own. Immense lights that warm distant worlds.”

“Have you visited those lights and those worlds?”

I smiled. “We have. Truth be told, you are around one now. The machines that support you here, in this state, hang high in the sky above one we call Van Maanen’s Star.”

“How far away is England?”

“About eighty-two thousands of a thousand of a thousand of a thousand miles.”

“Could… could I go back if I wished? As myself?”

“Of course. It would be a long journey, but by no means impossible. But Kent is very different now than when you left it.”

“Could I visit other worlds?”

“You certainly could. There are enough peopled worlds that you could spend the rest of your life visiting them.”

“And how long will that be? How long is the rest of my life, if I say yes?”

I shrugged. “If you avoid sudden misfortune, or if you choose to make copies of yourself as some do, you can reasonably expect that you, or a Will Long very much like you, will live to see the youngest stars that now blaze grow old and lonely in the sky. Which would be a very, very long time from now.”

Will stared out the window for several minutes; I did not interrupt his reverie. This was a conversation I had had many times; it was never quite the same, except that this moment usually came sooner or later. Sometimes it lasted hours. Sometimes it lasted years. I was happy to wait. But Will’s answer came astonishingly quickly.

“I’ve made my decision.” There was a bright, joyful gleam in his eyes.

“Very well. What have you decided?”

He pointed out the window. “I want to go out there. I don’t want to wait. I want to see what’s changed. I want to understand this strange world you have spoken of to me. And maybe to write new lines on what I see.”

“Then so it shall be. And many will be glad to hear this happy news.”

I stood, and drew back the sleeve of my robe, and stretched my hand out. “Come, Will. Take my hand.”

Will’s hand grasped mine, and I pulled him up, up out of the bed, and out of the room we were in, and out of the cool, clear evening that surrounded it; like swimmers rising to the surface, we rose up into the warmth and light beyond.

#tanadrin's fiction

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imaginationbeth · 5 years

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The Princess Diarist

After nearly 3 years of owning the damn thing, I grew up (stopped crying) and decided it was the time to read it.

When I got the book it was only a few days before Carrie’s passing, and I think if I had read then it wouldn’t have had the same impact it has had now (cause no bad shit had happened yet with her or to me) . Yeah I would have been a blubbering mess but who’s to say I’m not now. (Hahah I’m at work writing this.)

This is gonna be a long one so hang in there folks! Just pretend it’s the opening crawl to Star Wars, then you’ll like to read it.

In the last few years my mental health and image of myself has gone up and down like a one of those drop rides you see at theme parks. Gradually gets to the top only to fall hard. But hey, at least I always get back up.

I never gave a shit about what I looked like or how I acted because what’s the point? I’m only trying to impress myself, no other fucker. But as time went on, I could see things wrong with me, nothing big, just things I could change but have no passion too change. Guess I’d rather be a sad bitch, then a normal bitch. I didn’t wanna do shit about it.

But I’m getting better, I’ve learned again that I am me and I’m cool with that, even happy! (On most days) And that started with old interviews with Carrie. (I rewatch a lot when I need a boost). Especially over the last few years, boosting was needed. There were times where I couldn’t look at the book because my life was so far down that something that could be sad would just make my crumbling castle collapse.

Let’s jump to 2015:

Getting back into Star Wars (years after my sister made me watch them to torture me withJar Jar Binks, thanks dickhead) gave me a new light because I started again with Force Awakens, with General Organa at her prime! Being in charge at her age, focusing on the task at hand and still annoying Han when she can. Goals right there.

The interviews that followed the movie; her talking about Hollywood’s standards again and how people made her loose weight or look a certain way. She took it with stride and jokes and swearing, something if you know me well, I do often.

She stopped caring or at least she did in public. Her book gave me a whole new insight of what she thought of herself. How she looked in the mirror and saw imperfections, how life hit her hard, and how dark times got. (Big mood right there).

But she hit back hard, full swing with a baseball bat and won. Maybe not to her, but to those she inspired and those that knew her.

Back to the recent days;

I had hit back after many bumps in the road of my own life (university, death, down days). It took a lot, but she helped. For sure. Because until a couple of years ago the only person I had lost I felt close to was Carrie. Like she was an inspiration so why wouldn’t I. Then I lost a friend. Which hit like a Death Star. But I had old effects and crappy lines in the form of Star Wars to pick me up. And after months, it worked. Watching Leia and her boys fight the Dark Side, gave me strength to fight. She gave me strength to rebel against the sadness and pain I felt.

I always wanted to be Leia (and for comic con I ended up as Han, cause fuck yeah am I a Han!!!I can rock all of em!) because she was brave, confident, beautiful, smart and a total badass, but as life went on and my love for Carrie’s portrayal came back to me, I realised being Leia is cool, but I’d rather be Carrie in daily life (obviously minus the drug use) because she was a fucking badass without question.

She gave a whole zero fucks and had only five feelings (well maybe seven). Like no she ain’t perfect, the book explains this but god, it gave me a whole new love for this inspiring woman.

So here I am reading this book about her affair, her parents, her life and her connection with Leia. She speaks about what people say to her at a convention. And reading all the tales shows me what I would have said if I got to meet her. Probably with a lot more crying.

It rounded off a lot of hidden feelings, because I still wish I had the chance to say hi, but reading this made me feel like I sat down and spoke to her for hours and got to know parts of her I wouldn’t have in a line at a convention or listening to a panel.

Like this whole thing showed me everything I thought she was and more; human as fuck.

She was no galactic space princess fighting a war, she was Carrie Fisher: a fucking goddamn badass. And I am me: a goddamn badass too, just haven’t hit full badass yet because life still has more for me to whack with a lightsaber and tell it to fuck off!

So yeah, in two days I finished it, and I’ll admit I took my bathroom break at work to quickly go cry out back because I finished the last book she wrote, but I walked out knowing I’ll always have her as a part of me cause I grew up follwing Leia’s strides but went into adulthood with Carrie’s carefree attitude. A perfect mix if you ask me.

Perfect book, perfect insight into her life and a goddamn booster into everything I am to be. Time to step it up and take the acting world by storm, but first I gotta do what she said she couldn’t always do: focus on herself.

Thank you, General!

It helped more than you’ll ever know.

#star wars #carrie fisher #the princess diarist #book #my thoughts #the sad side #the good side #personal shit #had to put it into words #tumblr understands that bullshit #princess leia #my inspiration #tw:death

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yoshimickster · 6 years

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Well I’m finished both season one of the Umbrella Academy AND volume 1 of the Umbrella Academy:The Apocalypse sweet-HERE MY THOUGHTS!

I really wish I could say it was harder to pick a winner, but unlike with “Into the Spider-verse”, the original source material wins supreme.

Now in terms of looks the comic beats the show by a MILE, while the first issue's art was a bit shakey, by the end it really worked in a surrealist sense and I'm kinda mad the Netflix show never attempted to copy its style. I get it, there's limits to special effects, but the the look of the show just looks like every other super hero show out there albeit with better cinematography.

With characters(once again, comparing only volume 1 and season 1) its hit or miss on which are better.

Starting with side characters, Pogo and Grace are a lot more straightforward in just being side characters meant to help the heroes when they need them to, rather than the confusing mystery in season one. Hargreeves is still the same dick as ever only in the comic he’s...an alien? Uh...okay! Diego’s cop friend ISN’T his ex-girlfriend in this, and also doesn’t pointlessly arrest him only for him to escape...he also doesn’t get killed off just to make Diego sad so GOOD ON GERARD for no fridging! Agnes also didn’t have ANY arc in the comic, but its clear she was always meant to just be a side character so I guess I’m okay with that.

Klaus in the show is a lot more relatable in terms of being an addict as well as a character, whereas in the comic he just...DOES stuff and barely has a few lines. That said though, he seems to be more respected in the comic, where as in the show they treat him like absolute shit, devaluing him both as a person and as a member of the team, to the point where I just wanted to scream at the television-"MAYBE IF ANY OF YOU WERE NICE TO HIM HE WOULDN'T ACT OUT AND SEEK SOLACE IN ADDICTION!" I get it, hero’s journey and what not, but why did that heroe’s journey have to be because no-one is EVER nice to him because they keep forgetting that he’s the victim of FREAKING ADDICTION and psychological maladies! DO NOT TREAT PEOPLE LIKE THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY TREATS KLAUSS!

Luther though has MUCH better dialogue, and him having an actual gorilla body makes me more sympathetic to him than the...ALMOST gorilla body he had in the show which honestly just made him look kinda hairy. His dickishness in the comics is also a lot more palletable than his dickishness in the show, an almost more grown-up dickishness if you will. ESPECIALLY-since comic Luther straight up acknowledges that Hargreeves was an awful person from the get-go rather than having him realize it through a plot-twist. With that, he also blames his lack of a life on his accident rather than some bland devotion to his father, which I find honestly more relatable and less cringeworthy, especially since it didn’t lead to some pointless one night stand in a rave.

Diego and Allison are pretty much the same, with the exception of changing Diego's power to super accuracy/low level telekinesis instead of Guybrush level breath-holding, which to the Netflix show's credit I'm okay with as its just not visually impressive in the least. I do gotta say though I felt the romance of Allison and Luther was just as bad as in the show, as they are brother and sister and NO I do not care if its only by adoption, its still weird. BOTH stories though have the same problem in Allison barely using her rumor powers, making it as annoying as the volumes of Preacher when Jesse Custer would just FORGET he had the “Word of God” which allowed him to mind control ANYONE. One definite the show did better with Allison though was that it showed her ACTUAL relationship with Vanya, whereas in the original story I don’t think they talked ONCE...yeah while the comic is better, it also kinda failed the Bechdel test, at least for the first arc.

THEN there's Vanya, which both series focused on different aspects better than the other. While in the comics she could’ve gotten a bit more exposure in terms of a character, her becoming an apocalypse maker definitely makes more sense in the comic then in the show. In the comic the crazy guy who wants her to activate her powers doesn't have some convoluted plan or reasoning for her activating her powers based on daddy issues, its just-BAM-end of the world, CLEAN and simple! And while Vanya as a civilian could've used more exposure, Vanya as the villainous White Violin was WAY more interesting than the show's version as...well it was Dark Phoenix, no other way around saying it, it was just Dark Phoenix.

The main thing the comic definitely has better than the show is its pacing and straightforwardness, in that its not ten episodes of a super hero team breaking up and reforming again and again and AGAIN. No, in the comic they're all "Okay, shit's going down, let's work together!" which makes the story-arc a lot more streamlined. The dialogue in the comic is also a lot less cheesey I'd say, the show often putting dramatic music on scenes making it feel VERY soap opera-y where as the comic was a lot more cartoonish and quirky.

Ultimately though the ending of the story arc is better as the end of the world wasn't caused because Luther trapped his sister like a dumb ass in an echo chamber, doing the same horrible thing his father did to them and everybody just...went along with it. That and they actually DO stop this threat as a professional super hero team(albeit with casualties) whereas in the show they fuck up so badly they have to go back in time to solve it and URGH-I all ready have "Legends of Tomorrow" in terms of a show about a team of loose-canons saving the world via timetravel, I didn't need another!

With that, the original arc is an imperfect yet solid superhero story, wheras its adaptation while still good went on for a BIT too long and turned Luther into an unrepentant manchild prick. Even more than that, the WORLD of the comic felt like an actual superhero universe, whereas the show’s felt a bit too needlessly realistic, most likely due to budgetary restraints.

Hope ya liked my review-rant, and have a pleasant time period!

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy netflix #gerard way

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stimtoybox · 6 years

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Tangle Mods and Care Guide

I’m putting everything I know into one post I can then link to on the Links Page (where I’ve archived other useful posts) as a one-stop resource. And, yes, this post is over three thousand words long...

Releases

Tangles produced by Tangle Creations have slightly thicker connector pegs and pieces, are smoother, usually have tighter joins and smoother mould lines, and are much sturdier, in my experience. I prefer these over the Zuru Tangles, because while they initially looked and felt similar, the Zuru Tangles don’t hold up to wear as well as the Tangle Creations Tangles. Even when worn loose, these will still hold a coil, and I have few problems with loose pegs. I’ve only broken one Tangle Creations Tangle (two pieces sheared) and this was my very first, very-used Tangle.

Tangle Creations Tangles can usually be found at specialist toy shops, specialist stim toy and therapeutic item shops, and Amazon. They also have the largest range of specialist and therapeutic Tangles.

Zuru Tangles are licensed from Tangle Creations but produced by Zuru. They have slightly thinner pieces and connector pegs, are a bit creakier and plastic-feeling, and are more prone to loose pegs: I’ve already got some, after light use, with pegs that just keep popping out. They’re cheaper than Tangle Creations Tangles and easier to find. Zuru Tangle pieces will connect with Tangle Creations pieces, although the fit might be a little tight or loose.

Zuru Tangles can be found at department stores like K-Mart and Walmart.

Knock-off Tangles, produced by a variety of manufacturers, run the gamut from being recasts of Tangle pieces to new moulds. Some pieces will connect with Zuru or Tangle Creations Tangles, but many won’t. While some are usable immediately (like the HoTangles) most will be so stiff as to be unusable brand-new and will need lubrication. Many will not hold a coil, and they often feel looser and floppier than a well-used branded Tangle. They’re also often significantly lighter and creakier, and it is very common for pieces to not fit flush together but instead have gaps between them. Pegs easily pop out of the sockets. However, these can usually be purchased for $2 USD or less.

Knock-offs are usually found on eBay, Wish and Aliexpress, but also in some dollar shops. There’s a wide range of colour combinations, and even variants—like glow-in-the-dark—not available in either licensed range, but often little or no ability to choose colours.

Under the cut: information on bulking up pegs, taking a Tangle apart, cleaning, lubricating, storage and why I don’t recommend sealants as a fix to chipping Tangle Metallics.

Loose Pegs

If a Tangle starts popping apart—the peg falling free from the socket—the simplest way to improve this is to coat the peg in clear nail polish. This gives the peg a little more grip. PVA glue also works a little, but it will wear away more quickly. I suspect a brush-on varnish or sealant safe for use on plastics will also be suitable. Please note that this isn’t a permanent solution and the coating will need replacing periodically. It also works better on Tangle Creations Tangles, not Zurus or fakes: the fixed Zuru Tangles need refreshing much sooner than my Tangle Creations ones, even under similar use.

Make sure to let the peg dry completely before putting the Tangle back together, and to dry completely between coats if you need to do more than one. This technique won’t work as well if you don’t.

It has been suggested that you could also coat the pegs in a thin layer of thermoplastic, which I have not yet tried. I fear that it’d be difficult to get the layer thin enough to work, and it’s less simple to get the supplies and then use them without prior preparation. While it is imperfect, I find the clear nail polish preferable in terms of ease of use.

Pulling a Tangle Apart / Putting a Tangle Back Together

If you must pull a Tangle apart for lubrication, cleaning or custom Tangle making, and you’re worried about pegs shearing because they won’t easily come apart or clip back together, wrap the Tangle inside a wheat heat bag you’ve warmed in the microwave and leave it for a few minutes. The warmed-up ABS plastic is a little more pliable and less likely to snap.

If you’re trying to fit Zuru pieces to Tangle Creations pieces and they won’t quite fit, this might also help. Warm up both pieces in a heat bag for a few minutes and then try. Same goes for knock-off pieces that almost but don’t quite fit.

Please note that if you connect pieces with the aid of a heat bag because you cannot connect them without the bag, do not pull them apart again without heating the plastic first. Pulling hard on a peg and socket connected this tightly runs a real risk of the peg snapping.

If you don’t have a heat bag, put the Tangle inside a bowl or mug filled with kettle-boiled water and leave to sit for a few minutes. Use tongs or the end of a spoon to fish out the Tangle, and then leave it to sit for a minute or so until it’s cooled enough that you can handle it without burning yourself.

When pulling apart or putting a Tangle back together, try to use steady pulling/pressing motions without twisting or turning, as any sideways moment puts more stress on the pegs.

Please note that knock-off/fake Tangles are usually made from a poorer grade of ABS and are more prone to snapping when being pulled apart or put back together. This is a risk you must be prepared to take when doing so, as you can do everything right and still break your Tangle. I’ve had a fair few pegs break unexpectedly for this reason.

Cleaning / Oil Coating

Because a Tangle is made from ABS plastic, there’s a variety of ways you can clean it:

Wipe over with a baby wipe

Wipe over with a damp cloth

Wash with water and liquid hand soap

Wash with water and dishwashing liquid

Wash with a cloth dunked in water and soap or dishwashing liquid

Rinse under running water

Wipe over with a wet cloth and cream cleanser (for really sticky and dirty Tangles)

A Tangle Jr Fuzzy can be gently rinsed with water or soapy water and left to dry without too much fear of the flocking lifting, if it doesn’t rub or scrape against anything. (I boiled a Fuzzy once and it only lifted the flocking a little, but it didn’t clean it as much as I hoped.) Dust can be removed with a clean, dry, new toothbrush. Unfortunately, once the yellow sections go greyish, this is difficult to reverse. For this reason, I’d store the Fuzzies inside a pouch or container where they cannot be exposed to dust between uses, as this slows (significantly) the discoloration.

(It occurs to me that soaking the dirty Fuzzies in a bowl of laundry enzyme soaker might help, as I’ve used this to clean flocked toys. It doesn’t remove all stains, but it often does improve the toy’s colour.)

Skin cells, oils, dust and fluff will accumulate between the pieces, specially for Tangles used frequently or Tangles that have been lubricated. This forms a slightly tacky greyish dust bunny forming a circle around the peg or caught inside the socket. This can be removed by dipping the end of a cotton bud/q-tip in water, squeezing out the excess and wiping the bud inside the socket and around the peg.

If you want to remove the logo or any other painted design, tea tree oil on a cloth, tissue or cotton bud will do this easily, but don’t get the oil on your skin. Likewise, if there’s anything sticky or gunky on a hard plastic Tangle (or stim toy) that dishwashing soap or clean cleanser won’t remove, or rub marks that won’t come off, or some ink marks, tea tree oil is your best bet for removing these. Rinse the Tangle immediately afterwards.

If using a water-soluble lubricant on your Tangle, any cleaning process may remove it, so be prepared to replace the lubricant if it stiffens up after cleaning.

Zuru Tangles have been arriving with a lubricant or sealant applied, leaving oily, greasy marks on the skin after use as the grease is applied to the whole Tangle. Many stimmers will need to remove this, and if you want to completely strip the Tangle, you’ll need to wash it in dishwashing liquid and water as baby wipes or liquid hand soap do not completely remove it. How well it is removed depends on your washing liquid and the amount you use.

Some Tangles may stiffen up after cleaning and need a replacement lubrication.

Loosening Tangles / Lubrication

If a Tangle is too stiff to easily or comfortably manipulate it, you can lubricate it, and this will be a necessity for many knock-offs.

I’ve used RP7, petroleum jelly and graphite powder; other stimmers have had success with coconut oil and bike chain lubricant. Lubricants designed for use on plastics, like a silicone-based lubricant, will be your safest bet, but I’ve had Tangles lubricated with RP7 for months now and there’s been no damage or deterioration to the Tangle. If you’ve got a lubricant for metal at hand and want to try it, I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t (although I wouldn’t use it on Metallic Tangles, the Artist’s Collection Tangles and any Tangle coated in silicone, just to be safe).

None of my lubricated Tangles have needed a second application once lubricated.

I don’t recommend graphite powder because it stains: it works well, but it’ll only be unnoticeable on black Tangles. It also takes considerable effort to work the powder into the peg and socket. Oils and sprays are easier to spray or drip into the joins between pieces. You do this, twist the links to disperse the lubricant, and then move onto the next section, wiping the Tangle over with a damp cloth when done. Spray cans with the fine straw nozzle are easiest to use, but I’ve done this with a regular spray-head, too. If using an oil or spray lubricant, I also recommend using something that is light-coloured or clear to avoid staining on light-coloured Tangles.

My RP7-lubricated Tangles do pick up more black, greasy dust between pegs despite the RP7 being clear.

Additionally, oil and spray lubricants smell. Apply these outside, wearing a mask if necessary, wipe the Tangle clean when done, and leave the Tangle outside for a couple of days to air. I will say that the smell of the RP7 fades to nothing after a couple of weeks.

The most effective and accessible lubricant is clear petroleum jelly, available inexpensively from supermarkets and chemists. Simply open up one piece, dip the connector peg into the jelly until there’s a slight smear of jelly coating the peg, clip it back into place, and repeat for all the pegs. The jelly is scentless, meaning the Tangle is usable immediately, but the danger here is that, unlike the lubricant sprays, it’s very easy to over lubricate, creating a Tangle that won’t stay together. Unless the Tangle is very stiff, you want a smear of jelly verging on the microscopic. Keep in mind that it’s easier to add more jelly than it is to remove too much; you cannot be too safe here.

The downside to petroleum jelly is that you must pull the Tangle apart to apply it, but it has no scent, is perfectly clear, and better resists the greasy dust marks caused by the RP7. I’d use this alone for translucent Tangles, as there’s less risk of discolouration being seen through the Tangle.

You’ll need to dip a cotton bud into rubbing alcohol to completely remove petroleum jelly from the peg and socket if you over apply it. (Be cautious when doing this on Tangles with painted designs or flocking, though!) If you use acetone-containing nail polish remover, rinse the Tangle pieces immediately after application. Don’t use pure/100% acetone, as it can melt and eat away at plastics!

For further reading, please check out the lubricants tag.

Stiffening Tangles / Boiling

Fakes that are too loose to hold a coil, as is common for Tangle knock-offs, are not able to be fixed as far as I know. Most of them arrive like this, even before lubrication, being an unusual mix of too stiff to rotate while also flopping out of a coil. Lubrication tends to worsen this floppiness. Personally, I don’t consider this a huge problem, as it doesn’t stop me from using the Tangle, and I’d much prefer a too-loose Tangle over a too-stiff one, but if you prefer or need stiffer Tangles, I’d avoid knock-off Tangles altogether.

I’ve heard it said that boiling a Tangle worn to looseness will tighten it, but I’ve tried this on a much-used Tangle Creations Tangle and only noticed a marginal difference, to the point that I haven’t bothered trying it again. (The slight increase in stiffness soon wore off after using the Tangle.) This may also run the risk of causing the Tangle to squeak when worked successfully, but I haven’t been able to boil a Tangle tight enough to notice this effect.

If boiling in a pot, make sure the Tangle doesn’t brush against the sides, especially for knock-offs since there’s no way of knowing what the plastic contains. (I wouldn’t use a pot used for food for this job, especially with knock-off Tangles. Who knows what chemicals might leech into the water.) You don’t want to run the risk of anything melting or—more likely—warping. Leave the Tangle whole and clipped together while boiling it, as this way the plastic will loosen and tighten proportionally to the pegs. If you boil it broken up and the boiling causes shrinkage or warping of the socket, the peg may no longer fit inside it once cool.

Tangle Storage

Tossing a Tangle into a bag or pocket won’t be a problem for most not-totally-worn Tangle Creations Tangles, if you’re willing to risk the logo being worn away more quickly than usual. I’d only recommend it for a solid, sturdy Zuru or knock-off Tangle Jr, however. If your Tangle is prone to popping apart, I’d keep it inside its own zip pouch or box, just to keep it from being rubbed against wallet and keys or banged around inside your bag. I’ve noticed that this tossing of the Tangle into my bag hastens the wear of a Tangle already prone to falling apart.

Fuzzies and any of the silicone-covered Tangles (Therapy, Relax Therapy, Tangle Hairy, etc) will collect dust, fluff and lint. Always store them in their own plastic container or zip pouch.

To keep my Fuzzies free of dust, which turns them grey, I house them in this plastic compartment box which allows me to place one Tangle Jr in each compartment. These are usually available in department, craft, camping, fishing stores, and even many dollar shops, although it may be difficult to find a box this large with this many compartments, and some boxes may be designed such that two Tangles have to share a compartment.

Tangles with a metallic coating or printed designs (Artist’s Collection and knock-offs) should be stored so they cannot rub against other Tangles or toys. If they’re being moved around in a portable stim kit or backpack, where they might bang or rub against other toys or personal items, I’d wrap them inside a handkerchief or piece of soft cloth for protection, tucking the loose ends of the cloth inside the coil. Or place them alone inside a cloth drawstring bag or pouch!

Tangles can be attached to a keychain by opening the Tangle and clipping it closed around the split ring or cord, but only do this with a sturdy Tangle that isn’t prone to popping apart. I’ve lost a few Tangles by having these pop open when I was too busy or distracted to notice them fall away from my bag or lanyard. Because knock-offs and Zurus tend to do this easily, I’d only use a Tangle Creations Tangle this way, and even then only a stiffer, newish one.

Sheared Tangle Pieces

If a connector peg breaks, don’t throw out both pieces. You can throw out the piece from which the peg broke off, unless you want to try building up a peg from something like a two-part epoxy putty. (I think for most of us it’s easier just to get a new piece or even a whole new Tangle than to get the putty and shape it into something as tiny and precise as a Tangle piece connector peg, though.)

Save the piece that has the peg broken off in it, because if you own (or have access to a friend or family member with one) a fine drill bit, you can place the piece in a clamp and drill into the broken peg. Done so carefully, the broken peg will pop right out of the slot, meaning you’ve only lost one piece, not two of them. There’s a chance of breaking the piece if you drill too hard, fast or far, but you might be able to save it instead of just throwing it away.

Please note that the clamp may leave scratch marks on the piece. Mine did!

Sealants /Metallic Finishes

The Tangles with metallic finishes (Metallics, Textured Metallics, Sparkles) will scratch and chip, and there is no cheap, quick, simple, easy way to stop this. Thoughtful storage and careful use is the best, most affordable way to minimise this.

The least harmful “easy” way is to coat the Tangle with PVA glue. This won’t damage the Tangle, but it will peel off very easily, to the extent that I believe it a waste of your time and effort to apply the glue. Do not use clear nail polish, as this will wear and chip as well, but it may also turn yellow and I cannot confirm that it won’t peel away the metallic coating underneath. It’s just not designed for sealing large plastic surfaces like a Tangle.

Mod Podge will be the most affordable non-toxic brush-on sealant, but based on my reading, it is likely to crack if there’s any kind of movement, impact or flexing, so I don’t think it’s durable enough for Tangle usage.

I would recommend (not having tried it myself, however) a sealant designed for use on plastics or commonly used for plastics like Mister Super Clear, Warhammer’s Munitorum Varnish, Testor’s Dullcote or Krylon. However, these are expensive to buy, and the spray versions must be used with appropriate respiratory protection, adding to the expense. For this reason, I don’t recommend sealants as a solution, as getting the equipment may far exceed the cost of the Tangle.

If you seal anyway, pull apart the Tangle and seal each piece separately, so the sealant doesn’t crack when you rotate the Tangle. I’d wedge each peg into a block of foam or hold it in a clamp via the peg and then spray or apply a brush-on sealant with a makeup sponge (to avoid the streaking left by a brush). Let pieces dry completely between coats. Depending on your skill, the Tangle may look obviously coated afterwards, and I do not know how these sealants might dull or change the metallic finish.

If you wish to customise a Tangle with painted designs, purchase paints designed for use on plastics, not regular acrylics. I’d look at the Warhammer range as a starting point, because you can get small pots in a large variety of colours. Seal the Tangle afterwards (spray sealants will work best for this) to ensure the paint doesn’t rub off under use.

To lessen the chance of chipping and peeling, spray the Tangle with a coat of sealant before painting on it: this will give the Tangle “tooth” on which the paint can better grip.

#stim toy #stim toys #stim toy how to #stim toy mods #Tangle #Tangle Jr #stim toy cleaning #stim toy care #text #long post #very long post #stimtoybox #extremely long post #stim toy safety #DIY safety #lubricants #sealant

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aewenaiyana · 6 years

Text

Rescue Chapter 1

Tashi limped into the dark saloon. Sickly-sweet smoke of lacchsa pipes wafted through the room; she almost gagged. She'd always hated the stuff, and didn't know exactly why she was here, except for the tip she'd gotten about a hero of the rebellion, Zaraj, snatched away in the night.

Trying to stifle her limp, she sauntered up to the bar and sat down on the bench. She rested her arms on the counter and gratefully stretched out her injured leg, which had still not recovered completely despite the medpatch and the best doctor she could afford. She suspected it had not healed correctly and it would never be the same again.

The bartender wobbled up to her. A man—unusual. She felt a sort of kinship with him just from his imperfect stride, an old injury perhaps.

"What'll it be?" he said. He had dark circles under his eyes as if he'd been up all night, and he wore a grease-stained gray shirt and an apron over his pants.

"I'll have a Noontide."

The man nodded and hobbled away to pour her a glass, then clunked it onto the bar so that a bit of foam spilled out onto the stained, pockmarked wood.

Tashi sipped the drink, and struggled not to make a face. She never drank alcohol if she could help it; she didn't know why people wanted to dull their senses, especially with something that tasted so foul. At least this was the lightest drink she could get, and so it would not make her drunk on one glass.

Tashi scrounged for a question to command the bartender's attention before it could be diverted. She had to know if Zaraj had been kidnapped; she'd been scouring the countryside for the past two days, working ever westward on the trail of vague rumors. She hoped it was not true, but there was no one else who felt that it warranted the time and effort. Just because he was a man.

If it had been her father, she would have gone to the ends of the earth for him. She had her father back, though wounded. Jet was safe at home, an infinite distance from this world. Zaraj had nothing, no one. He deserved a better fate. Now that things were settling down, the rebels were carving out a domain free of Lapparan, but it was still a bit chaotic. Zaraj had fallen through the cracks. But this district had to be one of justice—that was what they had fought for. Not least, for justice for slaves, like Zaraj. He did not deserve to be a slave; he should be hailed as a hero, just as much as the women. As much as Jet.

"So have you been working here long?" Tashi asked.

"Two years." He polished a glass. "I know what you're thinking. It's strange for a man to be in my position. But that's the good thing about being out here. A man has more opportunities, more freedom."

Some don't, she thought, though she figured that, as a man, he'd probably be sympathetic.

"How's business?"

He waved a hand. "Slow at the moment, as you can see."

A few scattered women sat at tables, smoking, drinking, conversing. There were several men as well, sitting next to women. The activity was quiet, muted, but then, it was early afternoon.

"How is it in general?"

"Good, for such a remote place. We're pretty much the last outpost before the untamed wilds."

She nodded. This dusty frontier town was her last stop; she had no idea where to go if she didn't find Zaraj here. How could one man disappear so thoroughly? It wasn't as if the west was densely populated.

"Do you have any…entertainment?"

"Oh, yes. Any bar worth anything has that. Just not at three-quarter in the afternoon. Come back at ten and five, that's when the action starts. We've got some real beauties, unlike the other bar in town."

She winced inwardly at his obvious marketing ploy. Women exploiting men was abhorrent, but they did it because they were in power; for men to have no shame about exploiting their own sex—she didn't understand it.

She leaned forward, setting her half-empty glass on the bar, and arranged her features into an expression she hoped looked eager. "What sort of entertainment?"

"Oh, all kinds. I tried to get the best possible, as far out as we are. It's why I'm the top of my game—even competing with women in the area."

She nodded. That explained what he was doing. You had to trample others down to get ahead…or at least, that was one way. Tashi had to believe that was not the only way to succeed.

The bartender leaned his arms on the bar, setting down his oilstained towel. "So, what's your pleasure? We have singers, dancers—this gorgeous creature called Masanai who does both. And then we have the more…private kind of entertainments. You can rent a booth in the back—" He waved a hand toward the door that led behind the stage—"and one of our dancers will strip for you. Then we have our upstairs rooms, where you can spend an hour with the company of your desire."

Revulsion cut through her; she fought to disguise it with mild interest. She had to admit, she had been quite sheltered—though she doubted she'd ever think this kind of thing was okay. "So, how much do these…encounters cost?"

He gave a laugh. "Encounter—that's a good one. You must come from the East."

"I did…when I was younger."

"Out here, we are a bit looser with our language, and our diversions."

That's not the only thing you're 'loose' with, she thought. In the east, they at least keep up the pretense of morality. Though even I got a hint of what went on behind closed doors, the degradation of some of those poor men, before we moved when I was ten….I thought it would be cleaner in the west. Less stifling and corrupt. In a way it is…in some quarters. Other places are filled with tyranny…still others with lawlessness. And then there are the decent, honorable people….I admit, there are still more in the west than the east, proportionately anyway.

"It costs more to bed a man than it does to just stay the night alone. In some inns it doesn't, but here—we've got top quality, and so we bill for it. Believe me, you won't be disappointed. A third of our business, in fact, comes from our beautiful young men who know how to please. They would be honored to entertain a lovely young woman such as yourself." He regarded her judiciously. "You look like you've been far, and you have some money to spare on a bit of relaxation."

She turned away so he wouldn't see the disgust on her face. Or the blush that warmed her cheeks. At least she was tan enough it was probably invisible…. She hated to think of herself in such a role, because even if she was the kind of person who went in for…that sort of entertainment, she could never imagine herself enjoying another's suffering. Because she knew this much: Most of the men were coerced. They did not choose this life. Even if they did, they were often beaten and wanted out, but their owners would not let them. If they were not slaves to start out with, they became slaves by default.

But she had to at least feign interest for the sake of Zaraj. She hated the thought he might have ended up here after all he'd suffered under Lapparan.

"Would it be possible to see the…merchandise?" She tried not to choke on the word. "I would like to see a selection of what I am purchasing before I make a decision."

"Of course, of course. Would you like to see them now, or order another drink first?"

She couldn't stomach another drink. And dreaded what would happen next. But she might as well get it over with. If she didn't find any trace of Zaraj here, she'd try out the other bar in town, and every other place until he was safe under her protection.

Beneath her long coat, her pistol hung heavy in her belt. She hoped she would not need it.

"I'd like to see the men," she said.

The bartender nodded and waved to a young woman, who came up and took his place at the bar.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Rancasal. You can call me Ran."

She followed him back behind the door, past booths draped with gaudy red and yellow curtains. At the very back was a private "group viewing room," as Ran called it, with a velvet-lined bench along the edge near the back door, and a small stage with a more elegant red curtain.

"Go ahead, take a seat." Ran motioned to the bench. "I'll go get the men. They're resting up right now, but they're always ready to entertain a guest." He smiled and disappeared behind the curtain.

Tashi sat down, leaning against the wooden wall. Her leg ached; she wished for one of those magnificent medpatches that Jet had given her. But even her tansa leaf had run out, and so she'd just have to make do for now til she could scavenge more.

Creaks and groans from the floorboards above. Pounding of bare feet, boots. Voices, some languid, some energetic, some fearful. Then footsteps down the stairway, and the curtain rustled. Ran emerged and walked down to stand on the floor between Tashi and the stage. A moment later, two women stepped out and stood on either side of the stage. They were clad in elegant black and silver uniforms, their hair bound back with a hint of glitter.

A line of men filed out and stood on stage, side by side. They had a lot less on than the women—just tight black and silver pants. Some were tall; some short; some heavier, some thin, but Ran was right—they were all especially good looking. They had handsome faces and toned, pleasantly-proportioned bodies, which were sheened with a faint shimmer, and they moved with an effortless grace.There was even a Fed among them; he had the typical golden-brown skin and black hair of his race. Most of them had pleasant expressions; few seemed to have scars. Perhaps this was one of the rare brothels that treated their men well. If so, it was probably due to the fact that a man ran it, one who seemed to have the well-being of his charges in mind, despite his focus on profit. Perhaps because of it—as men who were happy and willing would probably perform better.

Zaraj was not among them. It was a relief, in a way; if the men here were not slaves, then he would never have come to work for such a place. Hopefully he was not at the other inn either; she doubted that both bars in town treated their men well.

"Any of these interest you?" said Ran.

She let her eyes flit over the men who sold their bodies each night, and wondered how anyone could willingly accept such a job. Though there were few ways to make a living this far on the frontier…

Tashi stood, knowing that to just leave would arouse suspicion. And she had to be absolutely certain Zaraj was not here. "Mind if I get closer?"

"Go ahead."

Shoving down her trepidation, she strode across the red-carpeted floor and up the steps to the stage. She felt out of her depth pretending to be interested in buying a man’s body, something she had never imagined herself doing. But the men looked at her with mild interest, and she had to feign interest in return.

She gave the line of ten men a cursory glance, then strode over to a man in the middle. He was tall, blond, muscular, tanned. His blue eyes boldly appraised her. He gave a bow as she stopped in front of him, holding the position, but still meeting her eyes.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Masanai."

"How do they treat you here?" She spoke barely above a whisper, not wanting Ran to hear.

"How do they treat me, mistress? What matters is how I will treat you. I would be delighted to minister to your every need. I am well-versed in the art of pleasure; I can be what you want of me—rough, gentle, subservient, dominant…anything in between. There is nothing I will not do, no new thing I will not try. I am one of the more experienced men here, but if you want me to act virginal, that's within my repertoire." He flashed a brilliant smile.

She gave him a smile back, a bit disconcerted. He was a charming creature. She'd never been propositioned so boldly…but then, she'd never been in a brothel before. She was not tempted in the least—she would not give into immorality—but she couldn't help but feel an attraction toward him. Probably more disarming because she was not used to such situations. She forced herself to put on the invisible steel armor of professionalism. She didn't want to get sidetracked or worse, found out, because she got caught off-guard.

She walked past the blond man and stopped in front of the Fed. He was smaller, about Tashi’s height, and instead of exuding boldness and good humor, his eyes did not meet hers. He held his hands crossed in front of him, almost a protective gesture. Scars laced his chest.

"Do they mistreat you?"

"N-no, mistress," he said, in a barely audible voice. "They are very good to me here."

His response hardly reassured her. She whirled to face Ran. "Do you mistreat your men?"

"No, no, they're very good, very obedient. We only punish them as a last resort. Don't want to scar them up."

"What about this?" She touched the Fed's arm, near a hash of scar slashes. He flinched, but did not pull away.

"He came with those. It's a trademark of all Fed slaves—they don't exactly serve us willingly."

"He's a slave?"

"Yes. A very obedient one."

I'm sure. You wouldn't give him a chance.

"How many of the men are slaves?" She tried to keep the accusation out of her voice, though she caught a hint of it in her tone.

"Only about four or five of them. My bar attracts the best; I don't need to force them."

"Do you have any others?"

"Are none of these to your satisfaction?"

"I asked if you had any others."

He bowed. "Yes, my lady. We have others. But they are in training, and not ready for your perusal."

"I want to see them."

"I'm sorry, it's simply not our policy."

She dug in her inner coat pocket and brought out the pouch of silver coins. Not many remained. She dug out two of them, tossed them to Ran. He caught them in midair, then inspected them. "I don't think—"

She tossed him a heavier silver coin—an arkris, with the portrait of the Empress on it—and he nodded. He beckoned her back behind the curtain, down a hallway, and through a door to the outside. Sunlight blinded her for a moment. She caught a glimpse of her horse, Nadiras, tied in front of the bar. Then Ran led her back over gravelly ground, sparsely populated with grass, to a log shed. He opened the sturdy steel door, enclosing her in darkness. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Sunlight filtered through the cracks between the logs. In the center of the room was a bed. And face down on the bed, his arms and legs tied to the bedposts, lay a man. His back was raw from a recent whipping. He had shaggy, shoulder-length brown hair.

He opened his eyes, and even in the dimness she could see their brilliant blue.

Zaraj.

you can read the rest here.

#writing #amwriting #novel #ebook #scifi #adventure #rescue #slavery #human trafficking #alternate universe #yes it needs a new cover #anyone want to make one?

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crimsonrevolt · 6 years

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Congratulations Paige you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Augustus Rookwood.

↳ please refer to our character checklist

Welcome back Paige! To hear from you was such a pleasant surprise and to have you back is even better! We never know what Augustus is going to do and that’s what makes him so great! He’s complex and interesting and we’re ready to have him back on the dash!

application beneath the cut

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

Paige, 25, she/her, EST. I’m from Tennessee in the United States!

ACTIVITY

I’m currently having to share a laptop with my mom, and Chronic Fatigue keeps me pretty dead for most of the day, but I plan to get online at least once daily to reply to anything I owe. So 5/10 maybe? I mean, I’m ALWAYS available via chat though, to plot or just talk.

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

Originally, Alexis, your former (original?) Rabastan. Then I was here for months, left, returned for a year, left, and I’m baaaaaaaaack! Lol You know I can’t stay away from my trash son.

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

In the past, I said Hermione without hesitation. I was always the one who felt a bit left out when new to a school, the one who lived to make teachers happy, and was a little too weird to make friends on my own without an intervening force. However, now I would say Minerva. In my friend group, I tend to be “mom”. I use logic and my mediating skills to make sure everyone stays out of too much trouble, work on guiding them through tough situations, and I always offer snacks when someone is upset. Also, cats are my life, and if I could become one, I would. Though even with the benefit of magic, the process would be incredibly complicated and I’m super lazy.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Nope!

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Augustus Rookwood.

Middle name: Xavier.

Name’s full meaning: Majestic, splendid, bird/forest

FACE CLAIM

Daniel Sharman

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

What I put in my first apps: I’ve always been drawn to the darker characters. Especially the ones who appear very controlled when in the public eye, and then “let loose” when they’re behind closed doors. Then there was mention of his family basically putting him on a pedestal. I’ve always loved (and had a muse for) characters that have a little too much responsibility put on their shoulders by their parents, and then begin to crack under the pressure in highly destructive ways.

Augustus seems like the type of person who originally started out trying to be the best son he could be. Who nodded and smiled at his parents’ plans for his future, worked his hardest in school, and then one day realized there was someone out there (The Dark Lord) to whom he could devote himself, and not have to be so perfect and “good”.

Which is why he will last in this war. No one suspects the “good little quiet boy” who kept his nose in his books, and his potentially deadly spells to himself. Not even the Dark Lord wanted him at first. Not until Augustus showed him exactly what he was capable of, behind a locked door, when everyone else was out trying to make as much noise for their cause as possible.

Now that he has an excuse to use the dark skills he’s kept to himself for years, Augustus kills when asked to and tortures just for the fun of it. However, he draws the line at children, and will convince another member of the group to kill/torture them when sent to “take care of” an entire family. He can’t exactly explain why he’s protective of children, or why that mindset changes as soon as they’ve reached an age when they can defend themselves. Perhaps it’s just too easy, and he likes a challenge.

Now that I’ve actually played him: He evolved over time and his ability to suppress his emotions slipped drastically depending on who he was with. There were far more bad influences than good ones, and soon, a few too many people knew his secrets and he was caught. Since then, he has retreated back into himself as much, if not more than before, and mainly focuses on his job and making the Dark Lord proud. And God, he feels like screaming every minute of every day. As the climax of the war draws nearer, situations become more and more tense. The whispers behind his back make his skin crawl, and although he knows he will be protected if he lashes out, he swallows his curses like acid. He was betrayed once, and won’t let it happen again.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

Preferred ships? Augustus/everyone, to be honest. Augustus will have sex with anyone. Long time friends, people he wants to manipulate, strangers, whatever. Sex isn’t tied to emotion for him. It is purely the pursuit of pleasure. Hell, he would probably have sex with the Dark Lord without even being commanded to do so. Because yolo? But romance is an entirely different animal. It requires trust and emotional connection and way too much of oneself. Therefore, Augustus has only felt such a connection once, and he’s not sure he wants to repeat it. However, he could easily be in a relationship or marriage with someone out of convenience or friendship. Though no monogamy or cute stuff unless pretending for the public. He thinks it would be selfish to tie someone down like that if he can’t offer them what they need emotionally.

Overall, Augustus identifies as an aromantic pansexual (though those labels aren’t exactly a thing in the 70s/80s), as a cis male (he/him/his). There has been some gender experimentation with polyjuice potion, but that was purely for fun.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

Patronus: Lynx. (Lore states that the secretive lynx represents controlled power, individualism, and sharp-sightedness. Lynx people are generally exceedingly observant, quiet, intelligent, and curious. Though their independent nature can strike some as aloof, they are often excellent guides and steadfast friends.) Boggart: Someone outing him for what he’s done. Such as, a member of the Wizengamot reading a list of his crimes. Wand: Hazel (Wandlore states that “A sensitive wand, hazel often reflects its owner’s emotional state, and works best for a master who understands and can manage their own feelings.”), 10 inches, Dragon heartstring core, Unyielding.

Blog: http://avgvstvs.tumblr.com

LINK TO VISUAL AESTHETIC

Brief playlist: “Choke” - I Don’t Know How But They Found Me, “Strangers” - Halsey (ft. Lauren Jauregui), “Run” - AWOLNATION, “The Last One” - Black Veil Brides

Aesthetic: On one hand, he’s a smoking gun, hands dripping with blood, wet leather after a surprise storm, teeth on pale skin, the way a bottle of alcohol holds the scent when empty, skin rubbed against a rough brick wall, and sins in hallowed places. But then he’s also the smell of old books, chalk covered hands from solving impossible problems, secrets whispered to empty rooms, lies screamed into crowded places, nails digging into palms, tantrums behind locked doors, cold chains, hot coffee, lightning and hurricanes. But then as an Unspeakable, there’s all this mystery surrounding his job, and the strict rules he must follow. So order and perfection. But as a Death Eater, there’s all this chaos and mess. Augustus in school was far different. Sweaters with sleeves a little too long, glasses to read that kept slipping off, smudged parchment, top marks hidden from fellow students, praise from teachers sounding too much like the praise from his parents, the death of a sibling and the expectation to immediately get over it, sitting in windows and watching the world move too fast. Everything was perfectly imperfect, and he did everything he could to grasp and absorb the chaos around him, and hold it tight.

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

The following section should be looked at like a survey for your character. Answer them in character and feel free to use gifs. Or, if you’d rather, answer them in third person or OOC without gifs. Answers do not have to be extremely lengthy.

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it: “I would not invent my own. I would simply rework the pre-existing Obliviate and make it much more permanent and impossible to reverse. The incantation would be obliviscaris in perpetuum (forget forever) and it would be invaluable for those who wish to use it on victims, or for those who have something traumatic or highly sensitive in their past that they’d rather forget..”

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you: “I would choose to take the Dark Lord with me, obviously, despite him never being one to follow someone else. His powers surpass anything the forest could throw at us. Also, I would bring a time-turner with me, due to its ability to help me return to any moment before I run into trouble, and allow me to take a different path.”

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make? “Those that require me to go against my deceitful nature and be completely honest with people. Like, a decision that if I am being truthful, would end my carefully constructed public image.”

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you? “I would never want someone accusing me of something, whether I did the deed or not. How I spend my time is an entirely private matter, and I would rather not have others prying into my life, no matter what they believe I have done.”

REACTION TO LAST EVENT DROP

While Augustus is glad that the Ministry is fully within the clutches of the Dark Lord’s side, he disagrees with the eradication of non-purebloods. He has never been a blood purest due to his childhood as an outcast and the discovery that those with colorful family trees tend to be the kindest. And after his time spent in America surrounded by Muggles, Augustus doesn’t really give a shit who your parents are. He plans to do almost everything he can to avoid a total genocide. Sure, murder and mayhem are fun, but one must draw a line at the slaughter of friends. Perhaps. While he has no plans to actively work against his fellow Death Eaters, he will not turn down direct orders. And for now, his orders are to stay focused on his work in the Department Of Mysteries. He has a plan for The Dark Lord that only someone who works in the Love Chamber can properly research.

WRITING SAMPLE

Augustus hadn’t been in this to make friends. Since childhood he’d fully accepted that he was born to be a loner. Besides, everyone else just got in his way. But as he sat, with cold metal chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles, clinking every time he tried (and failed) to find a more comfortable position, he felt truly and utterly alone. For the first time in his life, he began wishing there was someone by his side. Anyone, really. Just another warm body to deflect some of the angry, betrayed looks coming from the seats in which sat the Wizengamot and others. At that point, he would have even accepted a few of his least favorite acquaintances.

Unfortunately, everyone he knew was either dead, in Azkaban, or in the audience, watching with bated breath. This trial was one that had brought out spectators from every department of the Ministry. NO ONE had suspected the quiet wizard who went directly to and from the Department Of Mysteries every day, never making enemies or even standing out very much. He’d played his role perfectly. Even now, he kept his true self behind a facade, acting the part of the wrongly accused. Because he truly intended to leave the trial a free man. What good was the word of Karkaroff against his? The headmaster of a foreign school known to breed dark wizards, against a ‘friend’ of many at the Ministry? He’d spent countless hours cultivating false relationships with these people, earning their trust, and then gathering secrets. And until his name was spat by Karkaroff, it hadn’t so much as flashed through people’s minds. Not since he was pardoned all those years ago after his interrogation at the hands of Aversio.

The questions were easily answered with lies, and he even asked some of his own. “Where were you on the night of (…)?” “Where was I? Where were your Aurors? How could you let this happen?” “Who else answers to He Who Must Not Be Named?” “Clearly you’re bringing anyone in these days. If I pointed at any of you, would you put them on trial too?” Until the lies weren’t enough to get him released, and a vial of Veritaserum was brought out.

Rookwood started to sweat in that moment. His breath became ragged and his hands began to violently shake. If he was being honest with himself, he would have realized that it was sheer terror he was experiencing. As the potion was carried across the room and uncorked, he’d half expected someone to burst into the room and save him. The other part of him knew his entire life was about to change for the worse. Even as the liquid was forced into his mouth, possible scenarios of escape danced through his mind. If only the chains were slightly loose. Maybe one of his fellow Death Eaters sat amongst the crowd. Yaxley? Cassius? Dolores? Perhaps someone would have a sudden change of heart and remember how impossible it seemed for him to be a part of this. But alas, the chains were magic, all of his comrades had already been captured or killed, and after the trial of Barty Crouch Jr., no one trusted even the least suspicious person.

And then words were spilling past his lips, almost too fast, with the sting of Veritaserum still on his tongue. When asked about his dealings with the Death Eaters, he held nothing back, despite the deep ache within his very soul that got stronger with each new thing he revealed. Both the Wizengamot and the audience gasped as he told details of the lives he’d destroyed. How he’d stalked several entire families before torturing and killing them. The bodies he’d left in alleyways. The memories he’d stolen from those he’d left bloody and beaten. The way it made him feel when people begged. He told them it was an almost sexual satisfaction, and the Veritaserum-induced smirk that went along with his words must have been the final nail in his coffin, because the trial ended swiftly after that.

Augustus was forced to watch as his beloved wand was snapped in half in front of him, and he was immediately taken to a cold, damp room where an elderly wizard stripped him of his fine, embroidered robes and a pair of striped, dirty ones were shoved into his hands. He would be taking a portkey to Azkaban directly from that room, without a chance to say goodbye to anyone. Not that he cared very much for anyone in his life, especially those not currently residing in the prison he was destined for, but it was all very sudden. Like a flower being plucked from a vast garden and shoved into a dusty old vase, just waiting to die.

And in this little vase of his, he was alone.

#accepted app #hp rp #lsrpg #skeleton rp

2 notes · View notes

montgomeryhelen95 · 4 years

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Cat Spraying At Fashion Show Astonishing Diy Ideas

And even then, do you want to reuse this area.For indoor cats, consider Soft Paws as extra insurance, or an easy meal for the claws are used synonymously with Inhalant Allergies.This is because bored cats will live to be used to mark their territory by clawing at it.It is commonly prescribed by vetinary surgeons.

When trimming a cat's behavior problem - and what you want to use for cats.You can solve problems such as skin irritation.You must ensure that the cats are exceedingly clean animals and try to avoid the area.To this day, however, we still care for and can quickly and easily teach your cat in the alley of a local trainer that specializes in aggression.Cats are naturally nocturnal but can also use Crittercord...

Your outdoor cat is just terrible and it is most effective, and simple retraining techniques.It can be very solitary creatures and they may really stink so much approach the problem escalates, toxins that can be found in the intended area.Try to make him want to try and get rather irritated with the protection of a cat grew up without any mishaps, both of which were warm and chase birds and rodents.When your cat with a lenient return policy, especially if you do when kitty jumps up on it in a space where they will be adopted by people staying in your cats nails, much like applying a bitter apple sprays or simply an A type personality.They will also prevent humans from tripping!

They aren't sociable animals the way they both are introduced to an owner's reaction to being a good combination; you are wrong!But while these drugs are effective, some pet owners unknowingly expose their kittens as young as six months of age they could not believe me you better find a solution of hydrogen peroxide breaks down and solve the problem.If the abscess has not been properly toilet trained, it may be upsetting him enough to use the same word.It's important to their old scratching areas, here are some reasons why cats may exhibit dull coat, more frequent urination than usual, these are associated with the flea medication based on:These tend to be and claim they are simply cats that just get this problem and are less likely to try and get rid of the problem by retraining your pet.

No one would like to scratch up the mistakes.You should closely monitor these periods initially until the tail is chewed off.It is important that you don't want to attack the fleas from jumping on the back of the idea of where he had gone blind, and maybe even some prey mammals.Those stray cats come in all cases is counter productive.Unlike fleas, ticks are dangerous disease carriers that can compromise your cat's shoulder blades of the larger the issue of bad cat behavior that owners fail to attract your cat by 6 months at the time it is very mischievous when you first bring home your pet is having a high protein diet, so feeding them a light scent so that they can also cat proof your house can be addressed and/or eliminated with the female we just got a new baby in the carpet.

So if you can't see the other cats can have a decreased risk of unwanted cats are usually pretty embarrassed to have a chemical flea killer, even a real foul odor and stains completely get a new animal, your cat the ability to establish a bond that will just do not force her into it to your cat's behavior like nothing else to do, heap on the street because their owners didn't know how to train your cat to play with Cassie by batting at my house to serve its every need, and you'll be rewarded and attention from their litter box.You should not be able to guide the energy and spray urine, there are a part of the furniture.If they're going to amputate the last choice.This will let your cat to lay chicken wire which leans outward from your house.Indeed, there are solid advantages to neutering.

It can be put on their own toys, scratching posts, litter boxes, feeding areas etc...Anything you buy will depend on your kitten, especially tools that are raised together, will have less wild tendencies.If you, or to the pain to the vet before making an investment in something sticky or smelly.Both of my cats freaks out whenever you aren't feeling well, inspire you when you need to stop cat scratching, which have damaged many a carpet.One cat will learn to allow a large towel to cover three training techniques which cat would otherwise fall on your upholstery or carpet, mix the sludge and meat, because it is used to using the tray - this allowed her to her time of year for this job, one person to understand the problem for cat owners have wondered what is so important for good just dampens everything and then wash with clean water and a gently swaying tail that moves back and laugh at how shall we.However this sounds like a behavior that once started is not addressing the cause of cats having the capability to become familiar with a certain sound, if he decides to get rid of the problem from your cat, you should instead be rewarding as it is for animals; which of his presence.

If you want to spend time with your pet{s}, and wash your cat.It can spread through a veterinarian to get them interested in learning the basics of fighting in the street to join our household and to prevent my cat and another to allow entry only, exit only or be able to give grown-up fleas.I mean it's preferred sleeping spot, or where it normally hangs out or toilets.We never found out where he is just unbelievable.An over stimulated cat could come with their names and toss each of your property.

Cat Spray Untuk Kayu

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Cat Spraying Cleaner

A litter cabinet is the equivalent of us are not hard to destroy smells that will drop floating allergens from the toilet out of reach of kitty.The low cost topical flea treatments for the lunging and pulling, you may turn to the vet to rule out underlying health issues for dogs and cats?_____ dish washing liquid detergent bottle.Also you can put cotton balls in a veterinarian's office, or specifically a chemical response with the following may offer some comfort, but remember, a cats age, identity, sexual identity and activity.When it comes to rejecting harmful foods, the common cat poisons that can convert into a fur spray that naturally relaxes the cat urine from its roots.

Run around two or three times each day until they have adopted feral ways.The real culprits are tiny proteins that are fed cat food for every case.All that is having some ill health or because of its lack of guard dog skills.Do this consistently and he ultimately lost her anyway.It can be dangerous for your kitty will be an easy meal for the purpose of the sink as a kitten is a method of controlling them from clawing things, it's best to have separate litter boxes for the convenience of your garden is a battle you will also dramatically lower the chances of such byproducts is seldom specified clearly.

#Cat Spraying At Fashion Show Astonishing Diy Ideas #What Age Does A Male Cat Spray

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woodcutartistsbsrl528-blog · 4 years

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Wooden Printing Blocks For Sale Fundamentals Explained

Woodcut Print - The FactsWhat Does Woodblock Art Do?8 Simple Techniques For Wood Carving Blocks

The Definitive Guide for Japanese Block Print

Picture: tete_escape by means of ShutterstockThis article may include affiliate links. If you buy, My Modern Met may make an affiliate payment. Please check out our disclosure for more details. Influenced by the art of Hokusai and also other masters of Japanese woodblock prints!.?.!? Or simply looking to get your hands filthy and reveal yourself creatively? The ancient art of woodblock printing is an excellent craft to begin with printmaking.

From ornamental wrapping paper to wall surface art, there's a lot you can do with woodblock prints. Of course, block printing can also be done using linoleum or rubber, but it's likewise simply as simple to make use of wood scraps you have around your house or pick up at the equipment shop.

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The V-gouge is utilized to sculpt against the grain, while the U-gouge sculpts with the grain. You'll want to remember to not force the blades and also maintain them at a minor angle when carving to maintain them from breaking. Additionally, remember to sharpen them, as this will certainly make carving go much more efficiently.

This is what you'll use to roll the ink onto your woodblock. are developed to apply the ink equally, ensuring that you'll obtain an uniform circulation on the block. Just make sure not to overload your brayer with ink or you'll wind up with a murky print. is particularly created to give also protection and consistency to ensure that the final print will certainly appear plainly.

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If you want Click here for more to publish on fabrics, however, you'll wish to get ink developed specifically for printing on fabric. You'll additionally desire an item of glass to spread out the ink on, prior to printing. More of an optional tool, a is utilized to position even stress on the back of the block when printing.

Part of the enjoyable when starting with a brand-new craft is experimentation, and also picking the best timber for your print is no exception. like pine, cedar, as well as poplar are much easier to carve, but will be challenging for photos with great details. Soft timbers are additionally vulnerable to not holding up well during duplicated printing.

Woodblock Art Can Be Fun For Anyone

Table of ContentsThe Greatest Guide To Block Printing BlocksThe Facts About Woodblock Printing On Fabric Revealed

No issue what kind of timber you choose to explore, you'll want to select a piece devoid of knots, warps, and also cracks. As soon as you have your piece of timber picked, you'll require a picture to sculpt. Some people prefer to draw directly on the blockremember the image will certainly appear reversed when printedwhile others move their photos.

When transferring the photo, you can utilize carbon paper or trace your image utilizing a thick graphite pencil and after that move it just as you would certainly with carbon paper. You can likewise try utilizing image moving tools like ModPodge for more facility drawings. As soon as your picture is traced on the wood, you might desire to secure the block with a thin layer of clear acrylic varnish.

Woodcuts are relief printing plates made by carving marks in blocks of long grained planks or plywood. Long-grain describes the grain complying with the instructions of development, i.e, alongside the tree trunk/branch the item of wood was cut from. While both are alleviation printing approaches, Woodcuts are distinguished from wood inscriptions by both the grain direction of the timber utilized and also the tools utilized.

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Woodcuts are made in timber plank or plywood with the grain alongside the instructions of development using knives, cuts and also knives. The devices most normally used to make woodcuts are carving gouges of different sizes and shapes in addition to numerous knives as well as knives. There is a large variation in building and also high quality of sculpting devices.

Less devices of better are more suitable to a huge choice of devices of inferior quality. A tiny and huge u-gouge, a tiny v-gouge for information, a blade for describing and also a vast cut for clearing areas is an excellent choice for the beginner. Wood used for a woodcut has to be clean, well seasoned or kiln dried out, as well as flawlessly level in all directions.

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Certain soft timbers, such as some varieties of want, cedar or cypress, may not permit details to be effectively made and might additionally press during the printing process but may still yield interesting outcomes. Woods such as mahogany, poplar, ash, birch, apple or cherry plywood are much more hard to sculpt and require even more attention to tool developing but keep smaller information and also hold up to printing stress as well as abrasion better.

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Table of ContentsGet This Report about Woodblock CarvingA Biased View of Japanese Prints

Two letters are frequently detailed, (often a third contributed to show the desired direct exposure rating) with each letter showing a face. For instance, AA rated plywood would certainly be plywood with 2 clear faces and also few voids. Air Conditioner plywood is one of the most common and also would indicate a clear face and also a face with some imperfections as well as filled up knots or voids.

The https://en.search.wordpress.com/?src=organic&q=wood block printing Definitive Guide for Block Printing Supplies

AA or higher qualities of plywood will have the fewest voids. Acquiring wood directly from a well equipped lumber backyard that offers great woodworkers as opposed to one of the box shop retailers will yield better and even more choice of interesting species. Lumber backyards additionally often offer some milling solutions, so you may have the ability to have stock panels or slabs accurately crushed to wanted dimensions and periodically thicknesses also.

David BlackAny timber might be checked for viability by making different tool marks and noting the results. In this circumstances, a tiny area of Pine plank has been checked as well as after that inked in black to offer much better comparison to the outcomes. Given that wood reacts to the moisture of the atmosphere by expanding and also contracting, it is advisable to purchase planks a number of weeks beforehand and permit them to adapt to the workshop standards of humidity and temperature before carving.

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This can aid in protecting against distortions in the surface as well as relieve inner anxieties in the materials that might develop when relocating suddenly from high humidity to reduced moisture or the other way around. Normally, if materials are bought in your area throughout the springtime and summertime, this is not a problem as the climate inside the workshop must be close to those found in the lumberyard.

A huge section of one surface sculpted away will shortly start to bend and/or turn in feedback. Plywood, with its veneers of rotating grain direction is not rather as prone to these tensions, yet should still be provided time to adjust and can warp if saved at a time, or if one side ends up being moistened.

Nonetheless, timber currently showing these issues ought to be passed on if various other resources are offered. As soon as the preferred size block and also been gotten out of a slab or panel, it should be gently fined sand using medium to fine sandpaper installed on a sanding block to remove any kind of happy standing burrs, irregularities, loose products, or splinters on the face.

A Biased View of Woodcut Art

Table of ContentsUnknown Facts About Woodblock ArtTop Guidelines Of Woodcut PrintWood Print Paper for Beginners

The most basic technique of preparing an image on the woodblock is to draw directly on the timber surface with pencil or pen, remembering the resulting photo will be reversed when printed. No materials other than a pencil or pen are needed for this method. Treatment ought to be required to just use sufficient pressure to make an understandable mark and not crush the timber grain or surface as this might turn up as undesirable wayward marks during printing.

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The resulting pressure will certainly move a copy in carbon/graphite to the surface. Treatment should be taken to prevent crushing or caving in the woodgrain; experiment to locate simply the correct amount of pressure to make a transferred line without indenting the surface area. The drawing to be traced should be reversed instead than right analysis.

Getting My Woodblock Printing On Fabric To Work

Products required for this method are transfer paper and a copy of your image, reversed and sized in percentage to the block. You might additionally just color the rear end of the paper your picture is made use of with a thick layer of soft graphite pencil, so it may be used as transfer paper would.

The printer toner transfer technique is practically made complex, however returns very fidelitous resultsimportant if the photo has a high level of information. This technique of picture transfer to the block needs using a heated transfer device, a photocopy, and mineral spirits. The picture ought to be moved before the timber surface area is secured with varnish (see preparing the wood surface previously in this area) and afterwards the surface should just be secured with a waterborne polymer, as shellac might loosen the transferred toner as well as blur the picture.

Some Of Wood Block Print

The 5-Second Trick For Woodblock Print Art

The transfer device is warm sufficient to cause severe burns as well as have to be kept under observation during usage. Mineral spirits are flammable and should be saved and also applied in an area far from where the transfer device is to be used for the treatment. Products required: Warmth transfer tool not higher than 18w capability.

Greater wattage tools will swelter the timber right away and also can not be made use of. Xerox made on a non-fusing oil or completely dry toner kind copier of the 'best reading' and also effectively sized image for the desired block. The fresher the copy the easier the toner will move. David BlackMaterials needed for warmth transfer of image to obstruct.

Some Known Questions About Wooden Printing Blocks For Sale.

Table of ContentsSome Known Details About Woodcut Art 7 Simple Techniques For Wooden Printing Blocks For SaleWood Block Print Fundamentals Explained

Wisps of light smoke might increase from the surface area. Maintain the tool firmly and flatly pressed to the surface and frequently relocating. The paper must dry out, come to be nontransparent again, and also tense as you work; this is an excellent indicator that you have heated up the area adequately. If the paper begins to stain you have actually overheated that area.

The 9-Minute Rule for Japanese Block Print

Keep in mind: Pausing in one area might trigger scorching, maintain

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btsorpheus · 4 years

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to(BTS (방탄소년단) '봄날 (Spring Day)' Official MV; Feb. 12, 2017.)

THE BANGTAN MYTH, I

An ongoing joke among BTS’s fanbase is the fact that BTS’s song, “Spring Day,” always seems to reappear on the charts when they drop new music--even in 2020, though “Spring Day” was released in 2017.

The song is often cited as their best work. The melody is clear, sweet, and strangely nostalgic. The vocals are deeply emotional and the beat is charming. And yet the lyrics reminisce about loss, grief, and heartbreak.

Rarely do pop songs enter this dangerous territory. A lot of people use music as a relief from the tragedy and stress surrounding their own lives; willingly lending an ear to even more pain feels dangerous.

But this overwhelming emotion is also alluring. In mythology, Orpheus’s music borne out of grief was so powerful that it even made the stones weep.

1. Spring Day

“Spring Day” is a song about loss. They long for the so-called ‘spring day' as they live through an emotional “cold winter”--a period of mourning.

In its grief and confrontation of loss, it’s already an Orphic song. The music video for the song takes this a step further by taking advantage of the added visual medium to utilize Orphic visual tropes.

The opening shot of the music video shows V stepping onto the train tracks. The train is representative of journeys, not unlike Orpheus’s own into the Underworld. The modern retelling of the Orpheus myth, Anaïs Mitchell’s 2006 musical Hadestown, even uses train tracks as Orpheus’s guide into the Underworld.

The journey into the Underworld is also a descent, from the realm of the living into the realm of the dead below. Films with Orphic themes will often use spiral staircases to represent this, as originated in Black Orpheus and reintroduced in Théo et Hugo. BTS does the exact same thing in the music video for “Spring Day,” wherein the members walk down a spiral staircase--a prominent scene that’s dispersed throughout the video as a whole.

The video itself is permeated with imagery of retro, rusting, and empty backdrops. It’s clear that this is an image of the past--one of lost youth, as the imagery of the decaying carnival ride and the reference to Ursula K. Le Guin’s “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas,” which details a fictional community called Omelas that only prospers if a child suffers, suggest.

It’s been speculated that “Spring Day” was written in response to one of South Korea’s great tragedies, the Sewol ferry disaster in 2014, which resulted in the deaths of 304 of its passenger, 250 of whom were students.

“Spring Day” may or may not be a response to a very real, very devastating loss, but that association that a listener might make remains tangible.

A last persistent, Orphic image in the music video for “Spring Day” is Jin’s Backwards Look. At several points in the video, he gazes intentionally into the camera, always over a shoulder.

It’s unclear what he’s looking for. But whatever it is, like Eurydice, it seems to be just out of reach.

2. Save Me

BTS has an intense relationship with loss. As touched on with regards to the Eurydice figure, a part of BTS’s personal identities must be sacrificed so that their public selves can survive.

They have taken this theme and given it a prominent role in what is referred to as the BTS Universe, or the HYYH Series. (HYYH stands for Hwa Yong Yeon Hwa (화양연화), translated as The Most Beautiful Moment in Life, one of their album series.)

Though it began as a series of seemingly loosely-connected videos, including short films and music videos, the underlying narrative was eventually culminated in an officially licensed webtoon (a term for digital comics) called Save Me.

A panel from “Ep.01" of the webtoon Save Me.

The story revolves around an alternate, fictional timeline of the seven members, who go by their birth names, wherein they meet as students and grow up together. They lead happy lives until Seokjin (Jin) leaves for the States and comes back to find everything has fallen to shambles: Namjoon (RM) is in jail, Jungkook and Yoongi (Suga) are dead, Hoseok (J-Hope) and Jimin are in the hospital, and Taehyung (V) has murdered his father. To save them, he must travel back in time and confront them before they succumb to their fated demises.

A panel from “Ep.02" of the webtoon Save Me.

It’s an intense, often gruesome webcomic. The reader must watch representations of the members of BTS die over and over as Seokjin tries and fails to save them. (Shockingly, the second episode opens with Jungkook’s body smashing into the hood of Seokjin’s car.)

Save Me doesn’t even end happily--Seokjin thinks he’s finally succeeded, but he’s forgotten Taehyung’s hatred for his abusive father. In the end, he is unable to stop Taehyung from seeking revenge, and is forced to start another time loop, the success of which the webtoon leaves open to interpretation.

This very narrative is reminiscent of the Orphic myth. Seokjin traveling back in time to try to save his friends is similar to Orpheus’s journey into the Underworld to bring Eurydice back to life.

Like Orpheus, Seokjin fails--repeatedly. But both receive second chances: Orpheus through each retelling of his myth and Seokjin on every timeline he cycles through. Unfortunately, also like Orpheus, Seokjin’s attempts are in vain. The webtoon ends on his failure.

3. Run

One music video in the BTS Universe is “Run.” The opening shot of the music video is of Jungkook falling backwards into what at first appears to simply be his reflection. It’s only when he hits the surface that it’s revealed to be a body of water.

([MV] BTS(방탄소년단) _ Run; Nov. 9, 2015)

A common visual repeated throughout BTS’s videos is the mirror. Though I covered its function in the Orphic myth with regards to Eurydice and her multiple selves and only mentioned Aristaeus, Orpheus also significantly faces his double in the latter through Virgil’s poetry.

Orpheus is a man who utilizes excessive passion, called furor, to forge his path into the Underworld; Aristaeus is a god who follows the gods’ orders to the letter. Furor can only take Orpheus so far--in the end, Aristaeus is the only one of the two to succeed in his task.

But their dynamic brings up the mythic theme of the Good Twin and Bad Twin, as described by philosophical anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss. It may be easy to pinpoint Orpheus as the Bad Twin because the narrative ends with him failing in his endeavor, but in Virgil’s version of the Orphic myth, Aristaeus is the man responsible for Eurydice’s death. Would that make him the Bad Twin? Or because the narrative ends with his success, has he been forgiven and rendered the Good Twin?

Again, the morality of music becomes unclear.

4. Blood Sweat & Tears

(BTS (방탄소년단) ‘피 땀 눈물 (Blood Sweat & Tears)’ Official MV; Oct. 9, 2016)

BTS doesn’t seem to have an answer to this dilemma. The image of the mirror reappears in several of their music videos--as mentioned before, in Suga’s “Interlude: Shadow,” but also in perhaps their most iconic music video, “Blood Sweat & Tears.”

The song is one of seduction, where the object of the song’s affections is a corrupter. Jin, the protagonist of the music video, reluctantly passes through the storyline, falling deeper and deeper into the other members’ different representations of sin.

By the end, when he sits before a mirror, his reflection’s face has begun to crack. Whether his real self’s face is cracked or not is unclear--but what is clear is this divide between his parallel selves.

The Good Twin and Bad Twin dynamic is present in Jin and his corrupted self, separated by the mirror.

5. Fake Love

(BTS (방탄소년단) ‘FAKE LOVE’ Official MV; May 18, 2018.)

There’s a sequence in their music video for “Fake Love” that also uses mirrors. RM faces his reflection--which is imperfect, wearing different clothing and differently styled hair--as the shot doubles the scene against Jungkook also reaching for his.

“Fake Love” is a part of the BTS Universe. Several of the scenes from the music video are adapted into the webtoon (such as Suga sitting in an empty room with his instruments and Jimin’s drowning scene).

The song itself is about a loss of identity--“Try to erase myself and make me your doll,” V sings. It’s not a difficult assumption to make, given their other songs, that this is referencing the relationship between an idol and their fans. (Eerily enough, BTS literally have their own Mattel doll line.)

Suga only adds to this unsettling dynamic, rapping, “You say I’m not myself which you knew well,” but how can an outsider claim to know someone better than they know themselves?

Though the music video doesn’t pit RM against himself, there’s something ominous about the imperfect reflection and its unblinking stare. It’s unclear what it wants or why it exists.

Another scene in “Fake Love” that makes good use of mirrors is a sequence wherein V passes through a hall of flashing black screens that mimic phone cameras snapping photos. It’s reminiscent of a line in Suga’s “Interlude : Shadow,” wherein he pleads with the listener, “Please don't let me shine.” The music video makes it clear that this is in reference to the constant flashing cameras--from paparazzi and reporters alike--that follow them in every public appearance.

The scene also reminded me of one of Judy’s monologues in Vertigo which she delivered as Madeleine. I’ve posted a series of gifs here, but in short, Judy describes a “long corridor” covered in “fragments of... mirror” that ends in “darkness” and her death.

Mirrors have taken on a fatal quality. It echoes both the struggle between the Good Twin and Bad Twin and the Eurydice plight--both are fatal. One Twin must win over the other, and Eurydice’s story always ends in death. In the Orpheus myth, mirrors are always a danger.

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aviationfiction · 7 years

Text

XXI

Autumn Dupont

“I can’t wait for you to get here so you can try on your gown. Autumn, it’s so freaking gorgeous. The pale toned pink is perfect and you know you have that sun kissed skin with that super weird yet intriguing mystical glow to it that every woman on earth would kill for, so that’s certainly going to bring it to another level.”

My body turned to yet another angle as I did my best to get a good look at my tightly drawn back ponytail. While listening to Heather pour out her vexation, thrill, and anxiety about her wedding over the past thirty minutes, I’d been working with a curling iron, a flat iron, and my overthinking mind as I did my best to get it to the look of perfection that I envisioned. Initially, I worked loose curls into the ends to create a nice bounce to it but I wasn’t a fan of the look about five minutes later so that resulted in me flat ironing every single strand until they were straighten and cascading down my back. After having checked the weather, there was no way possible that I’d risk wearing my hair loose and allowing it to join the hundred and four degree weather in torturing my body. Supposedly, today’s a cool day and if those numbers represent what’s supposed to be cool, then I don’t want to be here when the temperature reaches absurd numbers.

“You heard me?”

“Yes, I did. First, I don’t know what glow you’re speaking of. I don’t see it and I’m looking at myself in the mirror as we speak. Second, I truly hope the dress fits my body properly and that it’s your final choice. I’m not allowing you to take me through the strain of last minute changes, Bridezilla.”

I dug both hands into my cosmetic bag to find my recent goto NARS lip gloss and nearly emptied out all of it’s contents onto the counter top. I contemplated doing somewhat of a full face of make up and the thought of looking like melted clay ceased my efforts. Instead, I applied a tinted moisturizer to my face, filled in my brows, applied just a bit of mascara for depth to my slightly sleep eyes, and now my last step is the lip gloss, if I didn’t forget the pack it. I’ve done my best to be as naked as possible without being indecent and yet I still feel like I’m overdressed for the heat that I’m about to endure. These acid washed cut off shorts are nearly short enough to be considered a pair of denim panties and the pure white crop tank top I’d chosen to wear with them left more than enough of my belly exposed and yet I could already sense how much sweat I’d be covered in within minutes. I just about clicked my heels when I noticed that there was an indoor pool and that’s where I planned to spend at least a nice portion of my day but one phone call tossed that out of the window.

“You ready Peaches?” I swiftly turned my head in the direction of the bathroom’s entrance and narrowed my eyes at Dante as he poked his head inside and took a look at me. Unlike usual, our eyes didn’t meet. Instead he took the time to exam every single article of clothing that I chose for his planned outing and he slowly trailed his intense brown eyes up until they were staring at my set of green. Instinctively, my feet took a step back from the counter and I slightly twisted my body to stretch away the tingling running along my spine and dancing within the depths of my abdomen. He arrived nearly three hours ago after having changed out of his business attire and freshened up for the afternoon and he fell into a slumber on the couch of my two bedroom suite while watching The Brothers. I assured him that while he napped, I’d began to get ready for whatever he planned but that transitioned into a bit of a white lie as I plopped down on the love seat and shamefully leered at him while he slept. The sight of his chest peacefully heaving up and down and the low breaths that escaped his soft lips entranced my mind and left me in a state of stillness. My heart swelled at the sight of every deep sleep grimace he’d make and I craved to be just a small part of whatever dream had his mind occupied. While his thickened eyebrows served as a clear source of his masculinity, the slightly curled set of eyelashes and his supple blushed lips softened his face to create the unbelievably perfect mesh of handsome and beautiful all at once.

Andreas is beautiful. I often thought of his appearance as unrealistic and had no issue deeming the man to be the one with all of the beauty within our marriage. Though it left my stomach churning from time to time, I expected women to gawk at him without any regard for my presence and it was of no surprise to me that my husband was often the one being lusted over before any of the players for the Miami Heat or for any NBA team, period. Though he’d do his best to take a nonchalant approach to it, he knew and he often joked about it whenever he felt compelled to irritate me for having irked his nerves at the wrong time or for the self pleasure of teasing me about an unspoken insecurity. Either way, his beauty has always been at the forefront of us and I grew accustomed to it. In no way am I comparing the two but there’s something about Dante that is so refreshing within that aspect. It’s not just his humble obliviousness and detachment from his attractiveness, but also his cultivated masculinity and imperfections that serve as the stepping stone for why he embodies what it means to be a man.

“Who is that?” As Heather questioned the foreign voice she heard in the background, I gave Dante a thumbs up and a playful side eye for the nickname he decided to give me yesterday and has refuse to let up on. With a nod of his head, he turned away to leave me to the wrap up what I had left to do.

“You heard me?” My hand finally set on the lip gloss I’d been searching for and I quickly opened up the tube and applied a coat to my top and bottom lip.

“That was Dante.” I had no reason to lie to her and there was nothing that I could make up off of the top of my head that would make much sense. She knows what I currently do for a living, she knows who my boss is because I told her, and she knows damn well there’s no man that I’d be bringing along with me for work related trips. Though I tend to avoid to the topic, she’s been curious about the dynamic between the two of us ever since we randomly decided to hang out in his nightclub after having a cost less dinner upstairs in his restaurant. The visual of the two of us speaking at the bar wrote a narrative for both Heather and Rachel that they refuse to let go of. Both women seem to believe they know my body language and reactions to men better than I do.

“He’s currently in your hotel room? Well, that makes things more interesting. Then again, it’s been that way. Your Instagram page currently looks like a traveler’s guide and I know for a fact that you’re not doing all of those outings alone. You can be somewhat of a loner when you want to be, but I’m not stupid.”

“I’ve never said that you’re stupid. We hang out. It’s been a couple of months and I can admit that a friendship has formed, so we hang out. It’s purely platonic; friendly. The friendship we have is no different from any other friendship I have. Granted your my best friend, so I’d say he’s a good friend. That’s fair enough.” I placed the lip gloss into the front pocket of my backpack along with my Apple charger and wallet. I left the inside empty for bottles of water.

We passed by a VANS store yesterday at Fredrick’s request while Dante was taking care of business and I couldn’t help but to fall in love with a sepia colored polka dot backpack that I saw hanging up on the wall. I asked for it without a second thought and a salesmen wouldn’t be doing his job without showing me something that would perfectly go along with the bag and mine did so when he paired the bag with a pair of the “Old Skool” classic skate shoes. The match made in heaven wasn’t one that I could turn down and was certainly worth the money, but my debit card never paid for the hundred and eight buck total. Fredrick physically and mentally blocked me from the counter as he uttered Dante’s request to look after me and make sure I was taken care of until he returned. What I took as a joke to laugh at was far more serious than it should have been for both of his best friends as we walked through The Fashion Show Mall. Though I didn’t necessarily want anything else, it didn’t stop them from offering me to choose something of my liking whenever we entered stores of their choice. Ice cream and lunch at Ruth Chris was on Mike. Today, I’m putting Fredrick’s gifts to use.

“You’re comparing our friendship with the one you have with him?”

“No. You’re my best friend. There’s no comparison to make.”

“I also don’t have a dick.”

“I’m aware of that. Also, his genitalia has absolutely nothing to do with me nor is it on my mind.” Well, at least not while I’m awake so, that’s not dishonesty on my end. After our eventful night at his golden nightclub and the time we spent reclined in the leather seats of his Aston Martin, the short nap I took was even shorter than it was supposed to be as I forced myself to end it. I needed the fantasy of Dante being buried between my thighs while I thrust my body to and from his in the front seat of his car to cease. That dream was the pioneer for the dream I had throughout last night that ruined my chances of an attempt to sleep in today. I’d like to think that I’m simply reliving my teenage years once more; or maybe it’s those early twenties that I missed out on. Fantasies are just that; moments when you absentmindedly muster up outrageous thoughts about something or someone out of your reach. I cannot recall any real celebrity or even average civilian crushes that I’ve had some years back and as a married woman the last thing I was thinking about was other men, though I wanted to out of spite. I’m going to deem these absolutely out of line visions of my boss and myself as a bit of that with an added dose of immaturity on my end. I suppose that’s what happens when you either encounter or fan girl over someone that’s out of your league and unattainable.

“Are you sure about that? It never crossed your mind when he was damn near pressed against your body that night?”

“No, it didn’t. Why would it? I told you that he and I have a friendship. It’s a fairly new friendship.”

“You say that like it’s a foreign concept for a man and a woman to start off as friends before taking it to the next level. Do you know how long that’s been happening? Not everyone meets someone and immediately either works towards or just jumps into a relationship. Friendship is often the stepping stone.”

“Yeah, well that isn’t the case between he and I. There’s nothing going on. I know you poke fun at me for being this extremely secretive person but I’m not hiding anything here. We’re just cool.”

“What do you like about him?”

“I don’t like him.” A huffed slipped past my lips and I pulled both straps of the backpack over my shoulders and slightly adjusted it so it’d be aligned perfectly with my back. While spinning in the mirror, I chuckled as I thought about Dante telling me I looked fifteen years old two days ago. I could admit that this look made me look no more than the age of a high school senior. It’s the ponytail and hoop earrings doing it more than anything.

“Why are you being so defensive? I’m asking that in general. You have to like something about him in order to consider him a friend of yours.”

“He’s just a good guy. He’s personable, kind, and a great listener. He gives good advice and is encouraging. He’s cultured and willing to teach without being an arrogant know it all. He’s funny in his own little way. He’s fun. He’s very humble and I respect that so much. He’s someone who knows so much; damn near everything and yet he doesn’t allow that to control who he is, how he carries himself, and what he represents. I respect that.”

“That’s a lot of description for someone that you’re only friendly with.”

“If someone were to ask me about you, I’d hope that you’d believe that I could give them a detailed and accurate description of how I feel about you and what you represent as a woman, because if not, then we have some issues.”

“Oh please. Don’t give me that bullshit. We’ve been friends since you and I were kids. So yeah, I’d expect that. You’ve been knowing this man for a couple of months through work and from what you just said to me, I’d think he’s been in your life for a couple of years. You’re going to tip toe but whatever. Say you do like him and you’re interested in something more; what’s the problem with that?”

“There’s a lot of of problems with that and it’s not the case.”

“What’s the problem?” If I had the time or the actual will to do so, I’d run down the pages upon pages of issues that would go into he and I being anything beyond what we already are. We’ve already crossed a couple of boundaries that are too far behind us to ever backtrack but there is no doubt that we’re going to be right here, at this point, throughout the duration of us working together because that’s the way it needs to be. I’m not even sure how long I’m going to be working as a corporate flight attendant. Though I enjoy the traveling and being able to see the world without having to spend a dime out of my pocket on flights, hotels, or food due to the company and the perks of having a company credit card, it’s time consuming and there’s a cap on how far I can excel. I can’t allow a favor for my brother to turn into my entire life and I certainly cannot allow a favor to turn into a nightmare for him. He’d have a conniption if he found out about just a small amount of what Dante and I have been doing with our work and personal time since being introduced to one another by him. It’s no secret that our relationship has a significant amount of damage and our story has some tattered pages but my God, I’d toss the most potent gasoline on the blaze that is his disappointment if he knew or if this goes any further than it needs to due to my foolishness and hopeless romantic being. Yet again, I’m teetering on the edge of destroying my relationship with my family and possibly pursuing a man that’s too far out of my league and would all but leave me shattered by the way of my own doings.

“Heather, I just got a divorce. The ink on that shit hasn’t even dried yet. As I look at my left hand, I can still somewhat see the print from my engagement ring and eternity band still on my ring finger. Take a step back and imagine how that would look. I’d be jumping from one relationship to another without any regard. Shit, it’d look like I was doing so while still very much so in the marriage. Situations like that need time to subside and it needs to make sense. I also need that sigma on me to die down some, you know? The whole someone’s ex-wife and sloppy seconds thing. He filled for the divorce. I’m the woman who was left for another; the cultural woman with the worldly job position by the way. I don’t have the greatest image right now. In addition to that, I’m not his type.”

Silence fell between the two of us as I leaned against the counter top and grimaced at the thought of what I just explained. I’ve seen far more than enough online, heard it on the radio from some of the most known radio personalities, and I’ve seen the brutal comments on social media. If it’s not about the decision I’ve made in walking away with nothing of his, it’s my idiocy for allowing another woman to come in and ruined what I built. Then there’s the viewpoint about my lack of a backbone or the women who have been digging as much as they can to find some type of scandal within my background or by my doing within our marriage so they can alleviate Andreas of any blame. As far as men, I’ve read plenty of “show me a beautiful woman, and I’ll show you a man who’s tired of fucking her” comments. Aside from that, no one wants me to shed the identity of being Andreas’ ex-wife. I’ve been offered a couple of book deals to tell all of our dirty laundry for some millions and the possibility of being on the New York Times Best Seller list. Shaunie O’Neal offered me to join Evelyn Lozada, Jennifer Williams, Tami Roman, and a few other ladies on Basketball Wives as a new cast member and if I made my very first season juicy enough to draw in high ratings, she assured me that I’d have a spin off show by the next season. I’ve been sent e-mails from multiple well known publicists to be hired for representation, and I’ve been offered interviews with countless media platforms. Rather than declining, I’ve never responded to most. There’s no need to. If I wanted to live off of the man, I could be twenty million dollars wealthier right now. I would have rather done that than to make a living off of my heartbreak by the way of scandalous exposure.

“What the fuck are you talking about right now?” The disgust in her tone was evident and it also served as the marker for me to end our call before the conversation turned into an argument that neither one of us need right now or anytime soon.

“Heather, I’m holding everyone up. I’ll call you tonight.”

“You know, that’s why I hate him. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t stand that high yellow, weasel faced, son of a bitch for hurting you, but I hate his ass for being the biggest part of altering the way you view yourself. I wish you were on my end of this conversation and could have heard that bullshit that you just spewed to me as the absolute truth about yourself. It scares me that you actually believe that and it makes me wonder if that counseling shit is working out. Your image? Jumping around? I’m at a lost for words because I don’t know what to say to you without losing my damn mind. You don’t owe him shit. Fuck the ink. I wouldn’t give a shit if it’s being smudged on the pages as we speak. You are a woman who is free to do whatever the fuck you want to do. I—you know what, I’ll let you go. We’ll talk later. Enjoy your day with your quote on quote friend.”

We didn’t bid one another our usual parting words of love. The double beep signifying her end to our call was as cold as she purposefully intended it to be and I could do nothing more than stick my phone down in the back pocket of my shorts and head out of the bathroom. Heather’s had more issues than I can count with me over these past six years and I’d just have to take today’s conversation and toss it into the pile of unresolved conflicts I’m going to have to mend at some point.

“I’m ready. Are you? You finished that movie?” I found Dante in my suite’s living room, laying across the couch, looking at what I know for sure is the final scene of the movie. He looked pleased, just as I had expected him to. The Brothers is a film that carters to both genders, though he swore it’d be a chick flick filled with drama and romance. Though it does contain those aspects, it’s also contains enough macho masculinity and comedy for a man to enjoy.

“There’s the credits.” He pointed at the screen and stood to his feet. He too, was dressed with the means to stay as cool possible. He donned himself in terry cotton deep grey Nike shorts with the all too familiar logo largely printed on the side of the left leg in white, a plain white t-shirt, and a black and royal blue pair of Michael Jordan’s first signature shoe. Though my eyes can barely tear away from him when he’s covered in the finest of materials gathered to create his designer suits, I certainly struggle to refrain from fawning over the days when he’s causal or laid back in appearance. There’s something about it that not only suits him but it also temporarily eliminates some of the intimidation in his serious demeanor. Right now, I don’t feel like I’m in front of a multimillionaire business man who has the world at his disposal. Instead, I’m in the presence of a handsome yet simple man with a kind heart and intuitive and often poetic mind.

“Did you enjoy it? Which brother do you relate to?”

“It was a good movie. As far as which one I relate to? None of them. One has commitment issues and then it went way left when he found out the chick he took an interest in had a previous relationship with his father. Then there’s his parents rekindling their relationship. Awkward shit. I don’t know my father’s dealings but I hope to never run into a woman he’s dealt with. What’s the other guy’s name? Brian. That’s it. He went through it with one black woman and swore off all of them. That’s quite silly, even though her sending him to jail was ridiculous. The Derrick guy and the sex issues, well I found that more comedic than anything, except for the mother part though I can’t relate. I’d never want my mother living with me.”

“You wouldn’t allow your sick mother to live with you?”

“Sick mother? Hm. I guess I’d allow that. She’s my mother after all.”

“And you wouldn’t consider leaving your wife if she wasn’t pleasuring you in the manner that you’d want her to?”

“No.” He shook his head to match the statement he made and I quickly side eyed him because I will never believe his or any man’s response to that if they tell me no. I firmly believe that apart of the reason why Andreas went after Amber is because of our unstable bedroom life. I came into his life untouched by any man and I worked at trying to figure out what he needed in order to keep him pleased. I’d mentally immersed myself into so much, it became less and less about my own pleasure and mostly about what lingerie, trick, or position I should try to maximize the pleasure for him. Some were better than others, tons were far more painful than I thought they’d be, and there were those that filled my frame with embarrassment because the execution wasn’t quite right. As the traveling increased, loneliness engulfed me and our connection dwindled. Whenever he did come home, I’d try my best attempts at spontaneity. I’d wait for him naked in our bedroom, only for him to flop down on the couch and not even acknowledge my presence. In the mornings, I’d remove my bed attire and creep into the shower only for him to turn around, kiss me, and tell me he had to go or he’d be late. I still cringe at the times when I’d drop to my knees and literally request to envelope his flesh into my mouth. Those requests were approved occasionally and I’m assured that it was for my own satisfaction more than it was his. I’d like to think Amber was already spreading her thighs and opening up her mouth for my ex-husband at that point; it’s either that or he just no longer wanted me.

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not. Why would I consider leaving my wife over something that we can work on? That’s not betrayal or the breaking of some part of the vows. It’s sex. Sex is a learning experience. You teach and you learn; both husband and wife or whatever relationship dynamic you have with said person.”

“And what if your wife never learns?”

“It’s not possible.”

“How so?” I quickly crossed my arm over my chest. I didn’t intend to be combative but there is no way possible that I’m wrong in this instance. I’ve heard and read about more that enough relationships or marriages going through the wringer because of sex and sex alone.

“It’s just not possible; at least not in my opinion. There’s so much to explore and try out. If one thing doesn’t work out, try something else. If you’re in love and you truly value that person and what they bring into your life, then you’re going to figure it out.”

“Well, I guess I’m going to have to agree to disagree. What you’re saying is easy to say because you’ve never had to deal with it. We all say all kinds of shit when we’re on the outside looking in. So no, I don’t believe you because in this instance you’re inexperienced and unaware.”

“Inexperience and being supposedly unaware has absolutely nothing to do with who I am as a man. I’m only getting married one time. That, I know for sure. So we’re going to have to figure it out until the wheels fall off. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, okay. If we’re still friends around the time that you get married, we’ll come back to this.” I lead the way to the door and he chuckled while cooly trailing behind me. A part of me wanted to keep drilling his head until he understood where I was coming from and could stop being such an optimist but I let it go because I cannot speak for him or his future experiences.

“Nah. We can come back to this conversation sooner than that and why did you say if? You plan on going somewhere?” I nearly stopped in my tracks at the question. Am I going somewhere? They say people are in your life for a reason or for a season and though I have so many reasons for why I enjoy him and value what he’s brought to my life thus far, I do and can question if this is all just something temporary for the both of us that will be nothing more than a blur in his future and a memory within mine. The changes that will happen within our lives are inevitable and it’d be hard to imagine the two of us and whatever we call ourselves building between one another outlasting it. I’m sure it can happen but would it? Is that realistic?

“No. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I. So there’s no need to say if.”

“Okay fine, we’ll talk about it sooner, later, and at the wedding too.” The door closed behind the two of us as we walked down the long hallway and he continued to trail behind me until we were waiting for the elevator.

“Not at the wedding. The conversation will be pointless, because by then, you’ll already see it my way.”

“You sure about that?”

“Positive, Peaches.”

“And you’re going to stop calling me that.” I quickly pointed my finger in his direction as the double doors drew themselves apart and we stepped on, taking positions on opposites and he pressed the button for the lobby. While leaning my body against the stainless steel wall, it’s coolness did absolutely nothing to distract my attention from the sight directly across from me. His stance was nearly identical to mine; only he had his hands stuffed down into the pockets of his shorts. I did my best to refrain from being obnoxious or embarrassing as I continued to take in all six feet and four inches of him, but I didn’t have the strength to fight it. Any woman standing in my position would be doing the same in hopes of even a glance from him. The level of small I feel in such a grand presence is unbelievable and yet I’m drawn to every aspect of him; mentally and physically, though I’ve never had him. I cannot get the feeling of my body pressed against his as I moved my hips along to every infectious beat and vulgar lyrics while in the club. That is the result of my eyes panning down to his shorts to get even the slightest sight of what I felt pressing against my derrière. I remember the exact moment I felt what would eventually invade my thoughts and dreams, salivate my mouth, and moisten the most sacred part of me. Hours ago, I interrupted the best sleep I’d gotten in quite some time to end the vision of my nude body sprawled on his office desk as he—

“Peaches.”

“Huh?” I quickly returned my attention to his face and watched as he pointed at the lobby. As he stepped aside, I quickly exited the elevator and turned the corner to find an awaiting Mike and Fredrick. I didn’t know they were downstairs waiting for us and had Dante mentioned it, I probably would have tried to ready myself a bit quicker and would have certainly ended that call with Heather much sooner.

“It took y'all long enough.”

“Should have stayed upstairs instead of rushing your impatient and anxious ass down here to wait.” Dante purposefully yet playfully pushed Fredrick out of the way and he approached Mike who held an expression on his face that was far more serious than I’d ever seen on him. He’s usually comedic, cool mannered, and making statements that are either slick or slyly amusing all for the sake of entertaining himself and embarrassing those around him.

“Let me talk to you for a minute.” Dante’s ever confident frame tensed at the question and he quickly nodded his head as the two stepped away from both Fredrick and I. They were in clear view and if I were curious enough about what they were speaking about, I could have heard it well enough, but I’d been distracted by the sight coming in through the revolving doors to be concerned.

Though Vegas is known for bachelor or bachelorette weekends and shotgun weddings, I’ve never heard of people actually making the decision to have their traditional and sometimes extremely lavish wedding ceremonies and receptions in Vegas. I’d noticed an unusual amount of human traffic once we stepped off of the elevator but I didn’t connect the dots to a wedding. Now all of the tuxedos and whimsical dresses make sense. The last to waltz into the lobby was the beaming couple, who could do nothing more than fawn over and smoother one another in affectionate and celebratory kisses to celebrate their union. Their smiles were infectious not only because those amongst them were smiling just as big, but also because I mustered up a small smile of my own. Instead of her maid of honor, mother, or sister, it was the groom holding up the back of her mermaid style of gown. My attention focused on her more than anyone else, and the gleam in her eyes is exactly what a bride is supposed to have on one of the most special days that she’ll have in her life. She’s walking along side her life partner; the man who just vowed himself, his loyalty, and all of his dedication to her. I wonder if people warned her that though today may be beautiful, there’s a possibility of storms to come and destroy all that they’ve shared and built together to arrive to this point. I wonder if she knows that he may change or one day may wake up and not look at her the same way. Does she know not to lose herself into that shit? Will he cherish her? When he’s not perfect, will he apologize? Some days I think I’ve had closure and there are the occasional ones when I crave an apology from Andreas. An explanation would take me through the hell of it again, but I’d deal with that for those two words that often mark a resolved ending. I’d like to think I’m worth that; even if he doesn’t feel like he did anything wrong.

“Autumn.”

“Yes?” I turned to look at Fredrick whose facial expression held concern. I’d been zoned out to the point of staring at nothing. The wedding party vanished behind the doors of the hotel’s ballroom.

“Lets go to the little convenience store and get some snacks for the trip while they have that conversation.” He didn’t bother to wait for an answer as he threw an arm over my shoulder and lead me to the right.

“Trip? Where are we going?” Honestly, I figured we were going to gamble or take a visit to that gangster museum that Mike raved about on the way here. I don’t know much about Vegas other than gambling and nightlife and based upon the brochures I’ve read since being here, that truly is the highlight of what happens out here. I expect to be highly impressed when we head out on the scene sometime tonight.

“The Grand Canyon. Dante’s idea.”

“Oh! That sounds cool. Thank God I brought my camera. That’s a great outing for nice pictures.”

“It is. Mike and I haven’t been out there so we figured why not just do it together, even though it’s hot as fuck outside.”

My backpack served as the junk bag while Fredrick fit as many bottles of assorted beverages as he could into his own. You’d think we were kids the way we zipped around the store like the roadrunner racking up tons and tons of chips, cookies, cakes, and candy. Our teeth are sure to be semi rotten while I stomachs painfully ache if we should decided to consume all of it but we preferred to have options to suit everyone’s tastes. Dante rented a bright white Jeep Wrangler Unlimited for our trip and Fredrick volunteered to be our designated driver to both destinations. He and Mike occupied the front, while Dante and I sat on opposites sides in the backseat. I don’t know how I was able to figure it out, but he much like myself, was pleasantly surprised when I handed him a bag of Oreo minis and strawberry milk. I remembered the milk from a flight and the cookies were a lucky guess. It was my way of breaking the ice as he sat there staring out of the window swallowed by his thoughts. Whatever Fredrick told him couldn’t have been good news because the tension remained within his frame and exuded in my direction though he didn’t intend it. If we were alone, I’m sure we’d speak about it and hopefully there is a point throughout this day that we do. I’m no Dr. Jill. I don’t have all of the right answers, but I’d like to serve as an outlet to release his pent up emotions whenever he needs to. That’s what a friend is for.

“Are you okay?” My hand rested on top of his own and he swiftly flipped his hand so it’d lock around mine.

“Yeah, I’m just mentally analyzing a few things and solving others. I apologize for the silence.”

“There’s no need to apologize. I understand.”

“Fredrick told you where we’re going?” I quickly nodded my head and chuckled as he leaned in to began a session of whispering so the all too nosey duo in the front wouldn’t find a way to pick on him.

“Yeah. I told him that I’m glad I packed my camera so that I’ll be able to take some great shots at both places. Oh and your iPhone too. How the hell do we have the same phone and yet yours takes better pictures?” We shared a laugh over my question and he unlocked his phone so he could point out the simplistic answer; editing apps. I don’t have any on my phone other than one which is for creating collages or squeezing a few photos into one particular frame. I use the Instagram filters and call it a damn day.

“There are some great free ones but the best ones are the ones you have to pay for. I read a couple of articles and bought the apps with the best reviews and I just play around with the apps and edit the photos until they’re the quality that I want.”

“I’m going to have to copy off of you. Put those on my phone. Not all, but like the best three? I think that should do the trick.” I scooted closer so we’d be directly next to one another and I handed over my phone so that he’d handle the task.

“Your photos don’t need any editing though.” To mask the blush that was fighting its way through, I chuckled at the statement and quickly shook my head. He was serious and that within itself caused my head to drop down so I was staring into my lap and I finally allowed that blush to conquer the lower half of my face.

“Oh shit. That was a good one.”

Dante’s eyes widened at Mike’s intrusive comment and he immediately frowned at his best friend who twisted his body just enough to be able to see into the backseat. Fredrick’s loud laughter made it no better and I couldn’t help but to join him as Dante’s face filled with a faint hue of crimson to signify his embarrassment. He simply stared at Mike’s hand when he extended it for a dap and he rolled his eyes at the devious smirk on his face.

“I’m just messing with you brother. Aye, since we’re on the West Coast, Pac or Snoop for the road trip soundtrack?”

“Snoop.”

Dante and I said the name in unison and Mike turned his attention to his iPhone. As he connected to his Bluetooth, Dante typed and tapped away on my iPhone to began my journey to being a mobile editing master. Rather than going directly to one of Snoops legendary albums, Mike opted for a playlist. As the the sounds of “Snoop Dogg” blared from the speakers inside of the sporty truck, our heads nodded along to the infectious beat. While we relaxed against the cool backseats, our eyes met. The blaring music became faint as his intense gaze grasped my entire being and I could feel my lips slightly falling agape at the sight. He never once flinched. His search or rather hunt for something that goes beyond my outer surface became apparent as his body slightly leaned into mine. I welcomed him. He blinked once; setting off an array of chills from the base of my skull down to the very nerve endings of my spine and my nerves grasped the best of me as I tensely ran my fingers through my hair. He’d taken that as an invitation to take a few strands in-between his fingers and he loosely curled the strands around them.

“You’re stunning Autumn.”

“You too.”

It slipped and I wanted to kick myself for it. It flew from my lips a millisecond after my name beautifully eased from his. The truth; a truth that I’ve noticed since I mistakenly fell into his arms. He’s stunning internally beyond what most could ever imagine and it shines through to further enhance his external.

He granted me a small smile while allowing my hair to fall back into place. He didn’t readjust himself back into the position he was once in. He remained close, with his shoulder leaning into mine, while he browsed through the App Store. As his scent engulfed me, my body further sank down into the seat as I mentally unraveled.

God help me.

Our destination wasn’t the four hour drive that I was expecting. Our forty five minute ride didn’t even allow us to get to the end of the Very Best of Snoop Dog playlist as we arrived at GC Flight, a Las Vegas and Grand Canyon tour company specializing in helicopter, airplanes, and motor coaches to and from the Arizona landmark. I should have known better than to think we were going to spend the majority of the day going to and from Arizona in a truck even though it wouldn’t have been absolutely fun and hilarious to have done so with Mike and all of his playfulness. To save us the lengthy trip, we’d be heading out in a top of the line helicopter.

“I take it you’ve never been in a helicopter before?” Dante chuckled as I hesitantly walked through the terminal. He was nearly pulling me along by the way of my elbow. I asked just about every question possible while the actual owner of the company ran down all of the rules and guidelines to our trip. He described it as no different than a flight but I beg to differ; smaller aircraft and far less likability to live it we should crash.

“I haven’t. Don’t even say that there’s a first time for everything because I don’t believe in that shit.” His laughter wasn’t as infectious as it usually is. I couldn’t muster up even a chuckle as my eyes locked on the neon red helicopter we’d be sitting inside of within a minute or so.

“It’s going to be fine. I’d never put you in harms way.” He squeezed my arm. “Helicopters are cool as shit. You fly low enough to be able to see sights. You can’t do that while on a plane. Besides, this ride is only forty five minutes. That beats a four hour drive. You’re going to love it.”

The fifty milligrams of Zoloft I swallowed down this morning did nothing to calm my nerves as the three amigos cheerily encouraged me to hop onboard. Though there were six forward facing passenger seats with more than enough room for us to sit and lounge apart, Dante took a seat next to me while Fredrick and Mike planted themselves directly behind it. I was locked into my seatbelt, wearing headgear, as well as a headset before all of them. Fredrick suggested I chew gum and I immediately took him up on the offer. While Dante held both of my hands, Mike’s were grasping my shoulders and gently massaging them in hopes to ease my mind as we listened to the pilot’s safety briefing. His usage of the words danger, risk, threat, and accident just about worsened my fears. Him mentioning all of them with a smile on his face felt like I was sitting in front of the grim reaper.

“Trust me. I’ll never let anything happen to you. Besides, if Mike’s here, then you know we’re alright. That man’s scared of everything. He’s a pussy.”

“Aye, fuck you you longed face bitch.”

His response sparked the laughter I needed to calm just a few of the bad nerves tormenting me but overall, it was his immense hands squeezing mine that served at the soother during take off. They were nearly as soft as mine, with just a bit of roughness that had to be the result of his basketball playing and the feeling of them enclosed around my own set quickly became one that I didn’t want to rid myself of.

“The sights are great already. Look.”

From the oversized windows, we could already see an aerial view of the infamous Las Vegas strip. Had it been nighttime, we would have been able to be dazzled by the endless amount of lights, but the visual was still incredible nonetheless. Our pilot served as a tour guide and along the route he pointed out the mighty Hoover Dam and it’s power plant turbines. My Mr. Wikipedia served as the historian who explained it’s original name, Great Depression construction, the impounding of Lake Mead, and lastly the states in which the dam generators provides power for. I’d taken out my camera to get as many shots of it as possible and continued to capture shots as we moved over Lake Mead, Fortification Hill, the Colorado River, and the Mike O’Callaghan-Pat Tillman Memorial Bridge.

Upon our arrival to the canyon, the pilot flew around it so we’d be able to take in every single aspect of it from above and then we descended just about four thousand feet below it’s rim and landed at a private site in the heart of the Hualapai Indian territory. We were supposed to pop open a complimentary bottle of champagne to celebrate but instead we chose to hike around. Though weather conditions were absolutely arid, there was a warm and yet soothing rusty and gusty wind faintly sweeping through to make our journey a tad bit easier.

For the simple minded, we were observing far too much dirt and rocks purposelessly sitting in the middle of nowhere, but as I took it all in, I couldn’t help but to be in awe of nature’s artwork. The carvings, sandstone flanks, and rusted deep slopes covered by olive shaded trees all served as the means to beautify such a rugged location. As we walked, I lightly ran my fingers over the barren red rocks and the green leaves springing out of the jagged walls. The canyon served as yet another reminder of how beautiful the earth is despite such ugliness from arguably it’s greatest enemy; us human beings.

“This is beautiful; pointless but beautiful. How long has this been here?” Mike voice his opinion loud enough for the three of us to hear and I quickly turned to look at Dante because he typically always has the fun facts about whatever location we visit. I don’t expect him to fail us today.

“Eh. Studies have said maybe five to six million years. For thousands of those years Indians occupied this area. They built their own settlements within the canyon and it’s caves. Some even considered this to be a holy site and would make pilgrimages here.”

“Dante’s the only person who paid attention in his history courses.”

Mike raided my backpack while cracking jokes about his friend and within seconds the three friends were trailing ahead of me. I used the time to put my camera to use and instead of taking photographs of the sights surrounding me, I focused the lens on their chemistry. Had I never met any of them and was just observing, I’d easily be able to notice how extensive of a history they have and how much of a tight knit bond they cherish within their brotherhood. The loud outburst of laughter, the way they completely grant one another attention no matter who is speaking, without interruption, is admirable. Mike is even granted a respectable silence for his jokes. Fredrick often drapes his arm over Dante’s shoulder and it’s no different at this very moment. Given his hostility with his family, it’s relieving to see him have an extended one in those two as well as Stacey. They not only keep him grounded and humble but also contributes to his overall contentment.

“Autumn, stop being paparazzi and catch up!” The flicker was louder than I thought it was.

“Lets hike up there.” I pointed at a peak not too far away that would take a bit of trek up and Mike immediately shook his head.

“Nah. I’m already near death. You go up there and we’ll be right here waiting.”

“Come on. I’ll go. Fred, wait here with lazy.” Dante gripped my shoulder as I quickly took off my backpack and left it with the two just in case they wanted snacks and also so I’d have less weight on me going up. Throughout the climb, he used his long and lean legs to walk ahead but our hands being laced gave me the advantage of being pulled up by his strength. He showed no sign of exhaustion once we were exactly where I wanted to be; unlike myself. The heat already had a headache arising in the most sensitive parts of my head. I’m a faux runner but I’m no athlete. Dante runs and is moving around this place like he’s a Usain Bolt and Lebron James hybrid.

“This is perfect for photos.”

“Drink some water.” He twisted the cap off of my water bottle himself and I swallowed down what became warm water within a half an hour of us being out here. It didn’t do much to cool me off but I suppose it quenched my light thirst.

“What made you think of here as a place to come? Because it’s close to Vegas?”

He stepped aside as I lifted the Nikon camera up and aligned the viewfinder with my left eye. An eagle was my target and I captured his essence as it soared through the air with precision like the majestic beast that it is often portrayed as. The sun beamed down on his pearly white head; as he nearly blended in with the white clouds as he continued to weave in between them.

“It’s peaceful out here; hot as hell but peaceful.”

“So you’ve been here before.”

“Yes.” As the eagle passed, I focused on the clouds. I’ve never seen them so clear….so clarified. As the fainting sun cast it’s rays down upon them, it created the perfect hue of scarlet. The setting sun is always my belief of heaven touching earth for less than an hour out the day.

“Why did you need peace? What’s on your mind?”

“Home. I spoke with my sister-in-law this morning and she’s beginning the process for in vitro fertilization again and Matthew’s giving her a hard time. He needs to give a few more samples and he’s putting off the process and she called crying to me to convince him to do so. She doesn’t ask for much. She’s not a difficult wife and she puts up with that man’s shit though she doesn’t need to. She should have divorced him a long time ago as far as I’m concerned but I can’t make that decision for her. She continues to stand by him despite his shit. Now she wants a baby. That’s all she wants and it’s a whatever type of situation to him.” Oh I know that feeling. I know it well. Andreas and I had the baby conversation a number of times and each time he’d do his best to explain to me how we weren’t ready for parenthood without ever giving me a solid excuse for why. Honestly, I wanted a child to fill the void that he left with me. At least I wouldn’t be alone. In the beginning, I imagined us as a beautiful family, living a traditional life, and being something like those from the famous family oriented television shows. The more he shut the idea down, the less I thought it and I eventually let it go. Now I can’t even picture myself as a mother or the point in my life when I’ll be in the best place possible to be one.

“That’s tough. There are women out there who don’t want to have children and that’s absolutely fine, but for those who do, that’s one of the most important goals in their lives. It’s special, fulfilling, and full circle, honestly. It’s the greatest gift two people can ever receive so the pain that she’s feeling is intense.”

“I know. I could barely make out what she was saying through those tears. I want that for Camille because she doesn’t ask for much but Matthew would rather shower her in materialistic shit and go about his business. Talking to that man is like me standing out here and talking to the ground. Nothing gets through to him until he’s in some shit and it barely gets through then. He’s bullheaded. Always has been.”

“Sounds like Isaac.”

“No. Your brother’s no Matthew.”

“He’s not too far off. Believe me. Despite his success, he got his shit together not too long ago. This clean cut, focused, and reserved Isaac is a reformed version of himself.” As I turned my body to face Dante, the sight of him standing there gazing out at the scenery was far more beautiful than anything I’d capture since our helicopter ride over here. The way the remaining streaks of sunlight cast down upon him while the garnish of pinks and oranges reflected on his vanilla glimmering skin was enough to leave me breathless. He overpowered nature’s beauty and stood amongst it like a sovereign; the most alluring and selfless kind. A one of one; him and him only.

“Well I applaud him for getting it together. Matthew’s too arrogant for that. The best way to resolve an issue within your life, no matter what it is, is to understand and admit that there is an issue. The man carries himself like he’s God’s gift to mankind and he gets it from Richard. They’re one in the same.”

“Sometimes people have to hit rock bottom in order for a change to spark within their lives. That may be your brother’s fate. You can’t change him nor can she. At best, you can encourage Camille to live her life and do what’s best for herself. If sticking by him is that, well, you have to allow her to do that. She loves him but I hope she loves herself more.”

“I agree with you.” The sound of the shutter caused him to glance in my direction and he chuckled as I quickly snapped a shot of his face.

“What else is on your mind?”

“Right now?” Though I switched my position so I’d be standing behind him, he turned to face me. “Nothing but this moment.”

“Not what had you quiet in the car?” He reached for my camera and I quickly pulled it out of his reach. “You’re always taking the pictures. It’s my turn.”

“That’s already resolved. It’s not on my mind anymore.” He reached once again. “You’ve taken enough. You officially have more photos of me than my mother does. I promise you.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“For her it is.” He gave up and instead reached for his iPhone. “Stay just like that. Don’t move.”

Had it been anyone else, I would have defiantly moved or dodged the camera but for him I froze exactly the way he requested me to do so and he capture me in the manner that he wanted. ‘A little to the left, slightly to the right, turn just a bit, look away, sit down, and look at me.’ I did all of it for him without protest as I basked in the beauty of him and our surroundings. The bombardment of colors casting across the skyline were beyond what Picasso or Vincent van Gogh could create. The man standing here with me? Only by God’s hands. There’s no denying I’m standing in the midst of his eminence.

“What’s on your mind?”

“What’s next for me.” That’s been on my mind more than anything else these days, which isn’t surprising. That’s where my mind should have been a long time ago but I held out hope for a resolution within the impossible. Now I’m left to figure it out alone. I’m no longer within those teen years where everyone’s tossing guidance and advice my way while happily standing on the sidelines to encourage me to keep going while I figure myself out. Sure I have a bit of it here and there, but I’ve reached the age where my focus needs to be solid. It’s going to take quite a bit of building myself up but the struggle to get there is to be expected and I deserve it. I’ve began to skimming through online applications for a couple of universities and I’ve reached out to NYU and UCLA for my transcripts. I need a few recommendations and I’m dreading trying to figure out who to ask and the accelerated programs that I’ve been checking out are strenuous. Harvard is the only Ivy League school that offers students who have completed at least two years of college to complete their degree through an assortment of online classes and approximately four three or seven week courses or active weekend courses on the university’s campus. The thought of applying there feels like I’m shooting myself in the head each time. I’ve checked out NYU and even Rutgers New Brunswick though I don’t want my mother involved. All of it is one big ball of confusion that I cannot continue to avoid no matter how much I try to.

“Do you know what’s next?”

“I’m slowly but surely figuring it out.” Suddenly his body was along side mine and he peered down at me in understanding. “That’s a start right?”

“Of course it is. That’s more than a start. I’d like to believe you already know what you want. You’re just analyzing the path that you need to take to get there.”

“Yeah. The adjustments as well. I suppose school is first.”

“Do you know where you want to go?”

“Uh. I’ve been checking out some schools.” He snickered at my hesitance to name them.

“Which schools? I wouldn’t be a Columbia Lion if I didn’t pitch to you how great of a school it is. You should check it out. I think you’d be a good fit there. You like New York City and you’d still be close to home. You can probably get an apartment in Manhattan so your commute won’t be extra hard. You were the Valedictorian at your high school and were on the Dean’s List both years you were in college. You’re getting in.” My eyes widened as he listed off those facts and I quickly glanced up at him in confusion. I never told him that.

“Who told you that?”

“Isaac.” He laughed out loud at my facial expression and widened his already huge eyes. “What? You think I did a background check on you or something? How else would I have known? He mentioned that while speaking to me about your permanent position.”

“Oh really? Says Mr. Accepted Into Every Ivy League School St. James.”

“Who told you that?”

“Google.” It was my turn to laugh but I wasn’t alone while doing so. He joined in. I didn’t search through page after page in hopes of pulling up every bit of information I could find on him. He was honored inside of the Harvard Business Review magazine and they had an extensive biography on him which included that information.

“Well as I said, you can get into any school that you want to get into. Just apply. Don’t doubt yourself. You have no reason to whatsoever.”

“What if that causes me to have to walk away from working with you?”

Silence fell between us as we continued to observe the sky’s retreating pigments as they battled the beginnings of the nighttime’s midnight blue pushing it’s way through the surface. The visual seemingly signified the question I’d asked him. A dark cloud loomed over my thoughts as I imagined having to walk away from what has been the source of my peace for the past couple of months.

“Walking away from the job doesn’t mean that you’re walking away from me. Right?” Our eyes met one another and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders to draw my body closer. His eyes held an anxiousness for a response and I wrapped my arm around his back until my hand met his side. My soft squeezing sparked his infectious smile.

“Right.”

“Alright then. So we’ll be fine. Besides, Columbia’s right there. We’ll be practically neighbors. We’ll see one another everyday.”

“Who says I’m going to Columbia?” I quickly sucked my teeth as he laughed ridiculously loudly and he playfully shrugged his shoulders at my question.

“All I’m saying is, I’m only writing a recommendation letter for Columbia.”

My jaw dropped at his stubbornness and he wrapped my body into the biggest bear hug as he continued to laugh at what I know for a fact he’s serious about. Columbia slipped out of my thoughts as I became a drunken woman by the way of his intoxicating scent. The warmth of his body engulfed me and I submitted myself to his world for however long he intended to keep me in his arms.

“We have to go back. I’m sure they’re tired of waiting.”

“They’re not standing out there. They walked away while we were walking up here. We’re fine.”

His head rested on top of mine while my head rested in the nape of his neck as we stood there welcoming the stars.

Tom Ford.

I’d chosen the handsome American designer’s designs for my attire this evening. The short black and long sleeved embellished dress and the matching thigh high open toe boots were amongst the final gifts I received from Shane. Though I was still married, he continued to encourage me to get out there and live my life instead of choosing to sulk in my empty home. During his visits, he’d become my bad influence of a life coach and we’d have “Siblings Gone Wild” weekends in the best hole in the wall clubs around Miami. My brother was too indie and eclectic to be partying inside of establishments on Collins Avenue or Eleventh Street. Given his ability to network and have friends all over the place, he was able to find these spots and he’d drag me out of the house in the sexiest attire he could coerce me into and we’d be partying until the wee hours of the morning and then would find a spot to eat the greasiest pizza ever before making our way back to my house and crashing in the living room. The Tom Ford pieces were shipped to my home while he was out in Paris enjoying himself and at the bottom of a note card covered in messages of love in French, he told me to tuck it into the back of my closet and be ready to wear it the next time we were together. He sent it to uplift my spirits. He never made it to Miami, because I met him in New York. I never wore it while out with him because he was dead within two days of my arrival. Tonight, I choose to wear it in honor of him and what he constantly encouraged me to do; live my life. He’d be applauding me with the most exaggerated compliments and showering me with endless hugs if he were here. If he wasn’t encouraging me to shine, he’d always push for me to soar. Given the embellishment of my chosen attire for the evening, I’d say I’m in for a night of shining courtesy of him. I hope I make him proud and that tonight’s festivities turn out to be as great as a night out with him would be.

The final touch to complete everything was the result of me starring at myself in the mirror for nearly ten minutes. While covered in black from my darkened hair down to the boots covering a portion of my thigh all the way down to my feet, I couldn’t decide if I should go with a nude lip or a bold red lip. Nude would tone everything down a bit and work with the natural glow I had going on once I completed my make up and the red would be a fiery pop of color needed for a statement. After looking between the two once more, I coated my lips with the red. It’s perfect for Vegas nightlife.

We’re in the lobby. Don’t rush. Just letting you know.

After opening Dante’s text message, I tossed my phone into the clutch bag I wish I didn’t have to carry this evening and I exited the bathroom for the final time. Though I was assured that I didn’t need to bring anything other than myself, I still double checked to make sure I had cash, my debit and credit cards, and most of all, the room keys. I can’t count how many times Heather and I have locked ourselves out of our hotel rooms and had to do the tipsy or sometimes drunken walk of shame down to the lobby for assistance. I don’t want that to have to be my fate tonight. It’s funny with Heather, but it won’t be as hilarious in front of the three gentlemen I’d be hanging out with tonight. Well, Mike would find it funny because he tends to find the funny in everything.

“Good to go.” I said it out loud to stop stalling myself and I finally made my exit while resisting one last visit to the mirror to make sure I wasn’t over or underdone. God knows I’m no where near perfect but I’d at least like to look presentable the majority of the time. That’s a rule by my mother and it’s been passed down by the women in her family from generation to generation. These past two years, I’ve certainly disregarded that and allowed my illness and depression to be the reason for my lack of care for my external appearance. I didn’t feel beautiful so there was no need to attempt to look it. Hell, I still don’t necessarily feel beautiful but I do feel like I’m regaining a lot of my sense of self and that’s a start. Besides that, there are boxes and boxes worth of unworn clothing that I need to put to use. I’d be damned if I just let it sit in the basement collecting dust because it’s a reminder of my time in Miami. Though a lot of it is a few years old; some recent; nothing in fashion is dated as far as I’m concerned. I’ll make every single piece work in some type of way.

The wait for the elevator was no more than a minute, though I expected to wait longer because of the traffic in and out of this place. Once it’s doors opened, I stepped on and was met with the eyes of a man most likely within his early thirties standing on the opposite side of it. Luckily for me, there were a set of buttons on my side as well as and I didn’t have to step into his personal space to press the button for the lobby. While resting against the wall, I did my best to avoid the eye contact that he so badly attempted to get by adjusting his eager position not once but twice, in such an audacious manner. My stomach churned at the sense of his eyes trailing over every aspect of me; undressing and eye fucking me while foolishly covered in a Miami Heat jersey. That’s what made it ironic but mostly ridiculous.

“I’ve seen you before.”

“Have you?” I gazed at the small screen signifying each floor we were surpassing as we descended to the lobby. It baffled me that no one had cause it to stop on a specific floor just yet.

“Yeah. I’m sure I have. I never forget when I see women as beautiful as yourself. You’re married to a Miami Heat player. I’ve seen you. I go to Miami all the time and I’m a big fan of the team.” I knew the NBA Summer League was in town. I’d seen a couple of signs upon arrival, there was a flier amongst the brochures inside of my suite, and Andreas would always fly out here for a day or two to check out the rookies in action before the season. I didn’t think much of it because I truly don’t care and something within me is telling me that he’s not in Vegas anyway. He has a pregnant fiancée to tend to and the summer league isn’t apart of his contract.

Up until now, I haven’t been approached, or awkwardly called out about who they know or believe I am until now. There’s only been a few stares here and there but I’ve grown accustomed to that. That’s been apart of my fate since I sealed it in Los Angeles.

“I’m not married.” My shoulders shrugged as I told him the truth and silence momentarily flushed out the conversation as he did his best to analyze my response.

“You’re not married to one of the players?”

“No.”

“I’ve seen you. I swear I have. I think I even remember what you had on. Game six against the Spurs. You were court side wearing pink.” My lips slightly fell apart at his vivid memory of my bright magenta Gucci attire. I attended all seven games that series; even the ones in San Antonio. Though we were fighting like hell, I still traveled with Andreas and showed up to the American Airlines Arena at home to support he and the team. The Heat won the championship in a ninety five to eighty eight victory over the Spurs. By then, I was far more happy to see Lebron and Bosh get their second rings and Wade his third, over my husband winning his second straight. What I remember most about that championship is being left to look on as the families of those players rushed to the court to shower their Heat heroes with love and praise and a congratulatory job well done. They were covered in confetti while excitedly putting on championship gear over their clothing while I was left off on the sideline to look on. I never got a chance to kiss him in the manner that the other wives kissed their husbands. He immersed himself into the celebration without ever looking for me and I was granted the coldest kiss on the cheek as he sprinted past with his team to head into the locker room to further their celebration by being doused in champagne. Not even the Spurs and their mopey demeanor could identify with what I felt as I left that arena alone that night.

“Mhm. I was there. I was a fan of the team.”

“Was?”

“Mhm.”

“Well what team do you enjoy now?”

“None of them.”

I mentally thanked the man above for his sudden blessing as the two doors slid apart and the pressure within chest ceased. My feet were moving at the same quickened pace of my mind as I quickly exited the elevator and turned the corner. I didn’t expect to be followed by the man but I also didn’t want to move slowly enough for him to further his investigation. A quick Google search would have given him all of the answers he was looking for and I would have been forced to be rude or to put forth my best effort at ignoring the hell out of him. His determination was alarming. I’ve never had anyone ask me that many questions about my ex-husband and our marriage within six years we were together. I’d been offered to appear on multiple platforms throughout our time together and I turned down every single opportunity because I didn’t want the fame nor did I want to leave a bad taste in his mouth. Now that has doubled along with the price tag and I’m still not interested. The less I hear or say about him, the better. Amber can enjoy it.

My eyes landed on the three men I’d been searching for were and they were idly standing amongst one another and sharing a laugh while glancing at whatever was happening outside of the entry doors. Dante was the only one out of the three semi dressed up. Because of the blistering Vegas heat, he opted for white attire from head to toe. The chambray fabric of his button down shirt rested against the build of his upper body beautifully and the the pants were the perfect match. On his feet happened to be one of my favorite pair of casual sneakers to see on a man; the “Torino” model by Buttero. I’d gotten Isaac two pairs for Christmas and though he critiqued them early on, he appreciates them now. You can easily dress them up or dress them down and they work in such a stylish manner. Given how well dressed Dante is, it’s not surprising to see him giving them a go. What I enjoy most about his style is the lack of contrived attempts. No matter what he has on, he always oozes a confidence that allows one to think that he doesn’t belong in anything else within that moment. Right now, this is arguably the best I’ve seen him and I’ve yet to see him look anything other than on point. My lip had been pulled in-between my teeth since I set my sight on him and I’d finally been caught in Mike’s peripheral. The smirk on his face was all too knowing.

“She arrives.”

Our eyes didn’t meet in the way I craved for them to. Instead I was left to watch him gulp down nothing but air as he took in the moment; our moment. His intense glare trailed over every single aspect of my frame; while I bashfully shrunk and mentally melted under the ferocity. His mouth fell agape while a hint of air escaped and exhaled past his lush pink lips and into the atmosphere. If looks could kill, I would have killed over no less than three times. A part of me desired to throw a trench coat over all of it, run upstairs, and start all over and the other half figured that I might as well go through with it.

“Sheesh Autumn! You didn’t have to kill it like that. Damn.” Fredrick’s eyes widened as Dante peeled his eyes away from me and glanced in his direction. The blank expression on his face was all too amusing because it’s clear that the man can’t stand obnoxiousness from anyone and though the comment was towards me, it still irritated him.

“Right Fred. Who are you wearing that for?”

Mike’s smirk grew even bigger and he purposefully and foolishly wiggled his eyebrows to pester me.

“Myself.”

“That’s it?”

“Of course. It’s for me. If anyone else should enjoy it, that’s a bonus right?”

“Looks enjoyable for sure.” Dante elbowed Fredrick in his side for yet another shameless comment or rather compliment and he boldly laughed while slapping Dante on his back. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was saying all of those things to purposefully irritate him.

“Shall we gentlemen?” My arm extended to point ahead.

I walked behind all three of them as we made our exit and instead of driving, we were separated. Dante and I were in the back of a chauffeured Mercedes Benz alone to my surprise. Fredrick and Mike were in back of the SUV in front of us.

“Why didn’t we just go together?”

“Just in case we leave at separate times. Fredrick is usually the last person to leave the club out of the three of us. That’s his environment. He’s not in them as much because he’s in a relationship and I sort of think he’s outgrowing the habit but there are times when he likes to purposefully be a stubborn ass; especially when people point out that he’s changing. I’m not sure why. He found love, which is a great thing. He most likely hates the idea of people tying his change strictly to her but I don’t do that. He’s just growing up. It’s about damn time.”

“Sometimes guys fear losing themselves in the process of committing to person. He’ll get over that. She’s clearly a great woman if he’s making adjustments in his life to suit himself and her in the process.”

“She is. I like her.” He nodded his head to go along with his statement while fidgeting with his fingers as his hands rested in his lap. I’d been staring out of the window since making myself comfortable in the backseat and I’d probably be doing so until our very short ride to Omnia comes to an end. I figured if I focused on Vegas’ luminous lighting and only gave him eye contact when he spoke, I’d save myself the distress of refraining from glancing over his entire being repeatedly. I’d done it more than enough for the evening and would most likely be absentmindedly doing so while we lost ourselves into the hectic flow of the nightclub.

“Autumn.”

“Yeah?”

“You look…” Nice. He’s going to tell me I look nice and I’m going to combust into a fit of nonsensical blushing. “Incredibly sexy tonight. Seriously.”

The skin is the largest organ apart of the human body and every inch of mine viciously tingled in response to his dauntless compliment. My heart beat erratically in my chest while my stomach filled with an onslaught of flutters and tightening beyond my control. I couldn’t find my voice and my lightly blush covered cheeks flushed with warmth. As his potent eyes met mine, I could feel my heart beating in my throat. My body transitioned from an exhilarating rush of emotions to a state of numbness because he’d snatched every part of me with just four words.

“Thank you. You too.” His raspy and gruff voice erupted into a light laughter and it ended with a smirk that weakened my knees though I was sitting. He ruined my comfort. Now I wanted to do nothing more than sprint from the car and walk the rest of the way.

“You’re too polite. You don’t have to pay someone a compliment just because they’ve given you one.”

“But it was a compliment and the truth. The white against your skin is just right.” I refused to look into his eyes again while being so close in proximity of him. I’d no longer be responsible for my actions as the spell of his enchantment moved me to attempt just a few seconds of what I now spend my nights dreaming of. I am caught in his web and he doesn’t even know it nor should he know it. This isn’t supposed to be happening. I’ve crossed all of the boundaries between the two of us while my mind, body, and soul is urging me to push forward and step over the forbidden threshold of the final few that are left. His patience and understanding from our very first encounter with one another engulfed all of me and left him indented on my mind. I’m foolish so it’s of no surprise to me that this is happening on my end but it’s absolutely mind boggling that I’m yet again tampering with my growth in the eyes of my family and friends by walking on the edge of disappointment again. The man is out of my league much like Andreas was and I’m starting to believe I’m drawn to that type of shit. I desire what I cannot and should not have; I enjoy the chase. I’m fairly knew to the crushing concept. Only one other man has gotten me to that point and I only briefly dated him and ended up vowing my life to him. I’ll be damned if I do that again; literally.

“Thank you.”

We wallowed in the intensity of our commentary and thoughts until the sedan came to a halt outside of the nightclub. I didn’t bother waiting for the driver to open the door to make my exit. I’d opened the door and exited the car at the same exact time as he did. I needed the fresh air to calm my stomach so the contents I’d consumed at SW Steakhouse for dinner wouldn’t come flying out of my mouth.

We skipped the line as I expected given the clout all three of them have no matter wherever they are. I was guided inside of the nightclub with Dante’s left hand firmly pressed to the small of my back and we were guided to an upper level VIP area away from the congested dance floor and never-ending traffic heading to and from the strobe light covered bar. They never requested anything by mouth; well at least not from what I noticed. We’d only been sitting for five minutes and bottles of top quality champagne, vodka, cognac, and mixers were being carried over to the table. I’d lost count of how many varieties there were and was even more confused when out everything left for our disposal, Dante and Mike chose Hennessy. At no point has he switched it up and I didn’t know Mike enjoyed it just as much. Fredrick’s a vodka man. As far as myself? I’m a whatever has a fruity flavor type of drinker. I chose to babysit a glass of Ciroc coconut with pineapple juiced mixed in it.

I couldn’t make out the dance floor. People were dancing to the sounds Calvin Harris was spinning from wall to wall. I could barely see him though his booth was raised up high enough for a clear view of him. The lightening stimulated my eyes like a rave; slowing down the movements of all the bodies while flashing each twist, turn, fist pump, and grind repeatedly. The techno and house music wasn’t my flavor for the evening but the alcohol urged me to bop my head and shimmy in my seat while meshed into Dante’s side while he observed the scene. With every sip of his drink, I knew he was taking mental notes for the sake of his client and his own plans for expansion. He’d do that for a few minutes and then he’d fairly return his attention to me by either smiling or squeezing my side. Eventually, we were standing and glancing over the balcony to observe the first floor and I gained the attention of all three of them as well shared playful commentary and laughter about the drunken offbeat dancing and sexual hooks happening. I’d never seen so many strangers randomly making out with one another in my life; not even during those two years of college.

“You enjoying yourself?” His warm breath swarmed my ear while his sultry tone invaded it and I nodded my head before gulping down the amazing drink Mike slid in my direction. He called it a “Zombie” or something along those lines. It’s apricot, orange juice, and rum mixture was superior to the Ciroc I was enjoying a while ago.

“I am. I always have fun with you. Who knew that the quiet business man could be so outgoing?”

“I have fun with those I enjoy having fun with. So you get a bit of credit there as well.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“I don’t think I give you enough, honestly.” He’d done it again. Instead of the goosebumps and stomach flutters, he heightened the warmth the vodka and rum filled my body with and my nipples stiffened against the embellished material covering parts of me.

“There’s nothing more to credit me for.”

“Is that what you think? Well, you’re wrong.”

As he closed the inch of space between our bodies, I took a step back and bumped into a half-drunk Mike who was rocking back and forth to Justin Timberlake’s “Rock Your Body”. He’d taken my mistake as a request to dance and he swiftly wrapped his left arm around my shoulders and swayed the both of us back and forth.

“Let’s go Autumn!” Dante awaited my next move. It was either him or Mike within that moment and I chose the man who’d leave me in one piece. I turned around in his embrace and threw my arm across his shoulder and rocked to the early two thousands hit. Him knowing all of the lyrics to the song and singing it with such a drunken slur made it so much more comedic. The laughter subsided the lust. The dancing filtered out the tension.

We were five songs into a random Timberlake set and we’d gone from trying to imitate Justin to shimmying our shoulders to “Like I Love You”. There was no way I wasn’t dancing to that one. It brought me back to the nights when Heather and I would be running around getting ready to take the campus and the outskirts of Los Angeles by a storm throughout the weekends. Justin was a heavy part of our playlists. We went to see the FutureSex/LoveShow in Madison Square Garden together in two thousand and six.

At the end of the song, I turned around to find Dante and the warmth within my body chilled at the sight of him speaking with a woman I hadn’t seen since we’d been at the nightclub. His back was to me so I couldn’t read much within his facial expressions or body language but hers said it all. The gleam in her bright blue eyes and the way she toyed with her platinum blonde hair while nodding her head to whatever he was saying to her ignited a feeling within my body that was all too familiar over the past couple of years of my life. I tensed while my lips tightened and no matter how much I wanted to shake it off, I couldn’t. I had no right and yet I couldn’t win the ridiculous battle against the unspoken resentment I chose to inflict upon him for doing what any single man has the right to do.

“She’s business.”

“What?” It wasn’t Mike in my ear. It was Fredrick, who’d been extremely mellow throughout the night. Dante’s right when he talks about him outgrowing places like this. If anything, he’s going to be the first person to go.

“She’s business. She’s one of the co-owners of this place. They’ve been trying to get Dante to buy into Omnia for a while now but he’s not interested so at this point, they just want to partner with A&M for representation and he’s not interested in that either. He’s not checking for her like that. Actually, he’s not checking for her at all.”

“It doesn’t matter if he is or if he isn’t.”

“I think it does. Why else would you be staring over there with so much tension radiating from your body? Dante only wants one woman in this room and it’s damn sure not her. I don’t think you need me to help you figure out who that woman is.”

My hand gripped the glassed filled the “Zombie” and I gulped down the majority of it.

“Alcohol doesn’t decrease your desires. It enhances them.” His sly chuckle as he stepped back nearly made me want to toss the rest of the contents inside of the glass on the floor. To say I felt exposed would have been an understatement. I couldn’t stand to look at the smug expression on his face any longer so I wandered off to find the bathroom so I could get some of the alcohol off of my bladder.

I spent ten minutes in the bathroom and another five standing downstairs in an attempt to clear my mind and straighten out my thoughts. In moments like this, I’d be texting Heather so she could either say some imbecilic advice or a joke to get me going but I know if I texted her right now, she’d only lash out at me for denying the truth she was attempting to provide me with earlier and she’d hang up. In addition to that, I’d be waking her up and she hates when she’s woken up; especially if it’s not for an emergency so I’ll refrain from doing that until tomorrow. She’d tell me to put my big girl thongs on and handle my shit anyway.

My eyes could barely remain focused on the sights in front of me as I crept up the steps. Each huff from my mouth allowed my nose to understand just how much alcohol I’d consumed and my slightly dazed expression told the story. I saw myself in the bathroom’s mirror while other women in my predicament either complimented or lusted over my attire. While standing and observing the flooded dance floor, two different guys flirted with me within that five minute time frame and I felt absolutely nothing. It was by far the most annoying interaction I’d encountered throughout the night and it was because of them that I decided to come back upstairs in the first place. Now as the man in my dreams comes into view, I wish I’d stayed. Why the hell couldn’t I enjoy the flirting or set my eyes on some attractive man out on the dance floor so I could know that what I’m feeling is nothing more than suppressed teenage antics.

“Where were you?”

“Bathroom.”

“All this time?” He placed his hand on my shoulder and narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah and I was looking out on the dance floor for the hell of it. Now, here I am.”

“You ready to go?”

“Yes.”

I was hoping he’d say that. All I want to do is return to my suite, strip out of everything, sit in the shower for two hours, and sleep the alcohol off. Actually no, I don’t want to go to sleep. I want the shower, the comfortable robe, a order of wings from the twenty four hour room service and a black and white film. I’ll take a nap later or I’ll sleep when I’m in Miami for the week for Heather’s bachelorette party, wedding rehearsals, rehearsal dinner, and the actual wedding. He’ll be in New York and I’ll be far too busy to be consumed with thoughts of him all damn day and salacious dreams of him all damn night.

“Okay. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

We left without bidding the other part of our group goodbyes. He’d already told them we were going to leave before even knowing if I’d say yes or not. Our ride back to the hotel was filled with him questioning if I was okay. He’s immune to Hennessy. I’m sure of it. While walking into the lobby his stance never faltered. His gigantic eyes remained their normal size. The mint in his mouth didn’t even mesh with the cognac. It over powered it. How the hell is he like that? He’s an enigma; some type of paradox. I’m being tested and I’ve been tested enough. Give me a break!

“The doors won’t close if you continue standing in-between them. Come here.” I stood in-between the doors of the elevator because I contemplated catching the second one so I could get away from him sooner. Now that his arm is around my waist and drawing me inside, I should have. I should have taken the stairs. Walking up like fifty floors would have been better. Fifty? Wait, where is my room?

“You enjoyed yourself tonight?”

“You have a high tolerance for alcohol.”

“I only had two glasses. I wasn’t in a drinking mood.”

I could no longer hear whatever he was saying to me as I looked into his eyes. Self-control and my sense of self evaporated while faint tremors and an aching desire overwhelmed me. I needed to know what it’d feel like. I want to know if it’s as magical as it seems within my dreams. The softness; the warmness. Just one time.

Just once.

I placed my hand to his smooth cheek and enclosed my lips around his own.

I’ve never felt more alive.

What trickled through the blinds wasn’t the morning sunlight. I can sleep through that. The peak of the early afternoon sun is what’s leaving my eyes and head in agony no matter how many pillows I cover my head with. As my mind began to trickle out the remaining images of my erotic dream, a large huff slipped past my lips as I soaked up the warmth of the covers and the plushness of the mattress. I inhaled to prepare for a few breathing exercises I tend to do when I’m trying to rid myself of a headache, and I nearly tossed the pillow across the room due to all too familiar scent that has absolutely nothing to do with my own. My eyes flew open and I quickly sat up and glanced around at the unfamiliar surroundings. The Air Jordans next to the chair on the opposite side of the room confirmed what I was praying wasn’t true was indeed the truth. In the chair were the Tom Ford boots I’d danced around Omnia in. My eyes nervously panned down and I noticed my dress was still on. The zipper was still up.

My hand flew up to my head as I did my best to recall last night’s festivities.

We went to the club. I know that. We hung out. We drank. I walked around I believe. Mike and I danced or maybe we didn’t. No, we did. We definitely did. What time did we leave?

As I swung my feet over and planted them on the floor, I glanced over at the nightstand and saw my clutch bag and a note on top of it.

Peaches,

We left out to check out two properties. You were sleeping so peacefully and you hardly ever sleep, so I wasn’t going to wake you. Don’t be mad at me. Order some room service, but don’t get anything too heavy. We’re going out for pizza when I get back; just you and I. There’s a great spot in the area. See you in a bit.

Dante and I left together. It was just us. We came back to the hotel. We were on the elevator. It was just us. Who pressed the button for the floors? Was it me? We were talking on the elevator. I kissed him and then…

I kissed him.

I ran my hand down my face as frustration filled my body. I kissed the man and I don’t even understand how I got to that point.

Did he kiss me back?

I dreamed about giving myself to him with him next to me?

I could scream.

Why am I always the aggressor? Why can’t I just wait for someone to be interested enough in me to approach me, flirt, ask me out on a date or two, and finally kiss me. Isn’t that how these things go? It happens for Heather that way. It happens for Rachel that way. It happened between my brother and Lauren that way. I’ve heard my parents love story more times than I’ve wanted to and it happened that way and here I am throwing myself at someone…again.

As I placed the note along side me, I grabbed my clutch bag, unzipped it and grabbed my phone. I had missed calls from both of my parents and Rachel. I didn’t bother returning any of those. Instead, I went to my call log and tapped the number I certainly needed to be calling. While fiddling with the note, I listened to three long form rings until there was a connection.

“Autumn, I’m literally walking to the conference room for a meeting as I speak. Can whatever this is wait? I’ll call you when I get out of there.”

“Isaac, I quit.”

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