#so the result is a cross between my own artistic tendencies and his

[katkeyboardmastah]

"Long, long ago, all the worlds were still one. One day, this would be called the age of fairy tales. It all began here in Daybreak Town."

Happy 10th anniversary since the launch of Kingdom Hearts χ 🎉🎉🎉🎉

Close ups under the cut!

Oh btw I drew all of these characters from memory with some intentional alterations... except the Keyblade... bcuz I forgot which Starlight upgrade some of the Dandelions used and only realized my mistake once I already coloured it... so have a weird mix of several I guess?

Additionally, I drew my own keykids in the bottom left corner! Wanted to add more stuff but this artwork was already busy as is.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Jinx Headcanons 💣

Jinx headcanons because our girl is the be-all and end-all of this show. And our hearts. (Don't hurt us, Jinx.). 

Massive tw: for PTSD, codependency, violence, drug use and messed-up family dynamics. Freud would have a field day. 

Erratic sleep schedule is a given. Her circadian rhythms - paired with the absence of sunlight in the Lanes - are absolutely haywire. The more sleep-deprived she is, the worse her hallucinations get, until something gives - or explodes. She'll either collapse in a dead faint or throw a destructive fit. Anything to shut her brain off.

Loves cherries. Remembers stealing a bowlful from a Piltie mansion with Vi and the boys. She's been obsessed ever since, and associates the flavor with happy Vi-memories. Once Silco learnt her weakness for cherries, he'd buy her the maraschino kind (non-perishable and pricier) after each successful bloodbath. Now Jinx has crossed wires where her olfactory bulb and taste buds are concerned. Vi-is-Silco-is-joy-is-blood-is-death-is-family. Ooops.

Her artistic tendencies and destructive impulses surge from the same source. She likens it to a regurgitation at the mental and physical level. If she doesn't have an outlet, she will literally choke on her own turmoil.

Barely remembers her mother, and feels guilty about forgetting her. Each time she pictures her face, Vi's features tend to supersede in its place. (Poor Jinx).

Associates colors and sensations with people. Silco calls to mind a black box; no light seeps in, but you can whisper your secrets in there for safekeeping. Vi is like a blazing fire; you're drawn to the warmth, but if you roll too close, it’ll scorch you.

She never grieved Vander's death. Her mind just closed up shop on the idea of him. Nor was it ever safe to grieve him - with Silco badmouthing him any chance he got. The only mercy is that at least Vander isn't part of her spooky entourage of ghosts.

Has a nonlinear grasp of time, and finds it either slows down or goes by waaay too fast. Disturbingly, this makes her extremely adept at combat, and a veritable terror to enemies: she seems to move between eye-blinks and anticipate attacks before they occur. (Timebomb is practically a canon ship for a reason, y'all.)

For a year after the factory debacle, her night terrors were so bad that Silco used to ply her with laudanum to keep her from scratching herself bloody in her sleep. Then one night, he overdid the dose and she nearly choked on her own vomit. He felt acutely awful, and thereafter, has always let her climb into bed with him if she has a nightmare.

With no female role models, she grew up emulating the ladies at the Drop in terms of appearance and attitude. Keep in mind, said ladies are strippers, prostitutes and sex tourists. The result is that she comes off as inappropriately flirty in her body-language.

Grew up under Silco’s wing with absolutely no concept of physical inhibition. He never chastised her for behaving in an ‘immature’ or ‘unladylike’ manner. The opposite: he encouraged her to be comfortable with her body, and take care of it. While she doesn’t buy into the whole ‘my body is a temple’ shtick, she’s grown up to be pretty damn satisfied with her appearance, and isn’t above using it as a tool to throw opponents off-guard.

When she joined Silco's crew, she was still afraid of heights. Silco turned her phobia against her in a test of devotion, by climbing a dizzyingly high scaffolding, then pretending to nearly fall off. She hauled ass to climb up and catch him. Once she'd reached the top, he "miraculously" regained his balance and patted her cheek. "See? You've always had it in you."

She knows - and has always known - Silco's morals are reprehensible. She just doesn't care. Vi is gone. So is everyone else. Who else is left to love her?

She likes the aroma of Silco's bergamot cologne. Ostensibly, she mocks him by calling it a girly fragrance. But it calms her and keeps her grounded. Sometimes she'll spritz a dash on her neck, or on her pillowcase. 

Vi used to help her with her hairdos. Sometimes they'd have hairwashing days together, to check for mange or lice. For the longest time, she'd let nobody near her hair after her sister's 'death.' Started looking pretty damn disheveled. Then she got tar in her hair after an accident in her workshop. Sevika tried buzzing her hair off. Silco interceded, and used an entire jar of vegetable oil to get the gunk out. Afterward, she let him wash her hair in the sink, and braid it. Now it's a weekly ritual between them.

Suffers from both amenorrhea and excruciating endometriosis. Her wails during the latter could wake the dead. Even Sevika feels sorry for her during those days.

Her memory is - on the surface - a fluid thing that can blur fact with fiction to suit her immediate needs. As such, sometimes she'll outright rewrite her memory to believe she was Silco's daughter all along - cared-for and catered to. Her 'fake' family never recognized her talents - or loved her. Her 'real' family does. 

Knows, in her heart of hearts, she'll be always Vi's sister before anything else.

[d6official]

DAY6: ‘We’ve Always Wanted to Go to India’

The South Korean rock band open about their songwriting process, their aspirations for future records, the definition of authenticity in a world that often dismisses artistry in K-pop and India

I caught up with DAY6 a few months ago via Skype–I’m told the quintet are in the middle of shooting new content for their fans and are dressed in their looks for a video, so it has to be an audio call. I can’t see them and they can’t see me, so of course there’s a lot of giggling, whispering, and moments of ominous silence that then have us all breaking into laughter together. It’s awkward, hilarious and everything you’d imagine a call with DAY6 to be. 

It’s towards the end of the year so there’s a lot going on in the band’s schedule, but they’re an unstoppable force, flying across the globe to complete performances in the U.S. and in Australia. It’s a pretty rare thing to have all five members be able to join in on a single call, so I’m happy to hear all their voices greet me. “We’ve just been on tour and we’re having a good tour so far,” says vocalist and guitarist Jae. “Everyone’s been really welcoming in their countries and really just turning up for us, so we’re happy.” 

DAY6 debuted in September 2015 with leader and guitarist Sungjin, bassist Young K, guitarist Jae, keyboardist Wonpil and drummer Dowoon. All members are trained vocalists, with Young K also doubling as main rapper, and every member contributes to songwriting and production. (The group did have a sixth member, a keyboardist named Junhyeok, but he left in 2016.) Young K also leads the songwriting process, with lyrical contribution in every single track on most of DAY6’s albums. 

The beauty of DAY6’s artistry lies in how versatile they are able to make each track within a single album–in one moment you’re listening to a stadium anthem that’s reminiscent of a young U2, and in the next there’s a segue into Killers-esque post-punk revival. If you’ve been a long-time fan, you probably already know this thanks to their genius ‘Every DAY6’ project through 2017, which saw the band release two songs on the sixth day of almost every month. The result? An expansive, experimentative discography which built two powerful albums– Sunrise and Moonrise–with B-sides that shine just as much as a lead single. Jae explains that there usually isn’t a set idea when they begin an album–a lot of the music is born through songwriting sessions with various producers, where each member gets to go explore any genre they want on their own. It’s a power they’re exercising more and more, especially all through the Book of Us series. “We didn’t really discuss a direction when we started,” Jae says. “Everyone just kind of did what we wanted, which is why the album is a jumble of this and that from everywhere.” In fact songs have a tendency to switch genres in between verses–a great example of this is DAY6’s 2017 single “I Wait.”

The group also credit the genius of JYP Entertainment producer Hong Jisang as a key factor in their creative process. “I think definitely one of our main influences is probably gonna be one of our main producers and that’s Hong Jisang,” says Jae when I ask the band about their musical influences. “He’s a writer that works with us very frequently. For most of our title tracks–actually all of them I think so far. But yeah, he’s definitely one of the main influences because he’s always been kind of our mentor since the beginning of our debut dates… even before that. So he’s been teaching us about songwriting, you know, tracking or melody writing. We have a little bit of a flow just because we’ve grown so close to him as a group.”

“Just one of the reasons why we try any kind of genre or any music is because people do have different tastes in music,” explains Young K. “So if they like at least one of them, then it’s a success for us. Another reason is because we do get to play almost all of them, almost all [their songs] at the concert. So, we do have a chance to show it to the MyDays and the crowd and you get a chance to have fun with it. And I guess it’s just what we aim for as a group.” They’ve stood strong and stuck to their guns when it comes to this process of songwriting and it’s the fuel that expands their creative process, ensuring they don’t stick to one particular sound or vibe.  

I remember back in 2016 when DAY6 began to get more popular, a lot of the attention around them was built of curiosity. As the first band under JYP Entertainment and the one of the first in the third generation of K-pop, both fans and industry professionals were curious to see where the Hallyu Wave would take them. The idea of an ‘idol rock band’ was new to the thousands of fans who had discovered K-pop after the 2016 boom of the genre, and DAY6 didn’t fit any existing stereotype–idol or band. They still don’t, and it’s a powerful statement.

This particular artistic evolution that we’ve seen with DAY6 isn’t easy to achieve in the K-pop idol-sphere of it all; our discussion about artistry in the glittering world of idol culture brings us to the topic of what it’s like to exist as what people believe to be a ‘traditional’ band in the middle of the ‘boy band narrative.’ I ask because it’s something I see often even in India–there’s this idea of authenticity always being tied to the more ‘conventional’ format of a band: artists with their instruments are deemed more ‘legit’ than pop acts. There is an unfortunate tendency among the general public to dismiss artistry created by pop stars and K-pop idols. DAY6 walk the line between the two worlds, and their path to finding that balance often demands a seesaw from one side to another. Have they ever faced a dismissal of their artistry because they’re idols who are also a band? 

“That’s a very deep question,” says Sungjin. There’s a long pause as he gathers his words and then continues, “I personally haven’t seen that big of a difference. We, as a team that emphasizes on writing songs and writing music to appeal to other people, feel that everyone who writes songs or does music has the same objective and goal, therefore [artistry] is the same thing [for every musician.] So we’re not trying to focus on those kinds of factors but just try to focus instead on our music and our creation process so that we could become more authentic artists that appeal to more people.” 

And what is DAY6’s definition of authenticity? 

“When the person who’s creating the music legitimately feels like it’s good music,” says Sungjin firmly.

Right now the authenticity in their songwriting comes from the ordinary. Lead lyricist Young K explains the members draw from everyday experiences and conversations to write songs that are relatable, raw and honest. “Lyrics wise, I could say, we got very cleaned up and very neat. During the times of Every DAY6 project, we were out of time all the time throughout the year,” he says with a laugh. “So, it gave me the lesson of like, always being prepared to write lyrics so that I could pick out a way to find motivation or inspiration. I don’t wait for that inspiration, I gotta always go look for it. For example during everyday conversation, if there’s something or if there’s a word if there’s a phrase that I like, I write it down on my phone.” He pauses for a moment and then sheepishly admits, “To be really honest, I haven’t been doing that for months now. I need to get back on it.” He also says rather than listening to new music, skimming through lyrics is always his go-to move when it comes to evolving his style of storytelling. “So I guess it’s just continuous experiences that helped me to grow and, like you said, evolve.”

I ask the band which of their songs they would recommend to a new listener to help them understand DAY6’s artistry, and there’s a collective hum as they contemplate. “That’s a really difficult question,” says Wonpil. “Maybe ‘You Were Beautiful?’” The rest of the band agree wholeheartedly, and feel the 2017 rock ballad does a great job of summing up who DAY6 are. It’s certainly a fantastic example of the band’s powerful songwriting and their uncanny ability to to delve into topics that are at times a little too real, a little too familiar. 

DAY6’s complex Book of Us series of albums have dealt mainly with the various levels of human interactions, emotions and relationships, each volume diving deeper into the complexities of what makes us who we are. The ‘Us’ in the titles can refer to DAY6 themselves, the relationship between them and their fandom MyDay as well as various other relationships the members might have in their lives. It’s also a general reference to the relationships we as human beings cultivate in our lives. The first album in the series The Book of Us: Gravity was one of their brightest releases, exploring youth and young love. The Book of Us: Entropy was a little heavier, a little more mature, exploring the beginning and end of relationships and how it changes a person. 

The band’s upcoming release of The Book of Us: The Demon is perhaps their most anticipated release yet. Set to drop tomorrow, May 11th, the eight-track EP already hints at a slightly darker route than its predecessors with its title, promising a deeper look into the core meaning of the series. The teaser for the lead single “Zombie” which dropped on May 8th shows the band wandering dazed through crowds while the track itself seems to build on angsty alt rock. DAY6 also dropped an album sampler that hints The Demon cruises through pop rock (“Day and Night”), blues (“Tick Tock”), post-punk revival (“Stop”), acoustic pop (“Afraid”) and more.

In true DAY6 style however, the tracks can change direction in-between, crossing genres from one verse to another. It’s all a surprise right up until we hear the record, which is one of the best things about listening to a new release from this band. While I’m not told any specifics, I’m assured that DAY6 plan to go bigger than ever before when it comes to future releases.  “We want to go to space!” exclaims Dowoon and the band agree enthusiastically. How does space translate sonically? “We want to go for a larger scale of music,” he explains. It’s about dreaming bigger and looking at ways to elevate DAY6’s musicianship. Jae adds, “Yeah, maybe going from just one acoustic guitar to like a full brass band or something.” We discuss possibilities of DAY6 working with an orchestra someday and it’s a pretty fantastic vision. 

Speaking of future plans, I decide to put them on the spot and ask about when we’re getting an India tour. “Whenever you guys call us, we are definitely there!” Jae assures me immediately. Young K and Wonpil explain they are familiar with Bollywood and eager to learn more about it. “I am aware it’s huge there. And recently Katy Perry did something with Bollywood?” asks Young K. We realize he’s referring to the pop diva’s massive November concert in Mumbai with Dua Lipa and he shares that it’s one of the reasons DAY6 are more eager to check out India’s concert scene. “Yeah, I actually heard it from my friend. They were telling me, ‘Yo, you should go to India’ and like wherever it is, we always want to go. If there are people who are willing to listen to us and enjoy with us at the concert, we want to go.” Jae adds, “You guys have a lot of people and for us it’s a new culture and we are always interested in going to different places and seeing new things, trying different foods… naturally the food! So yes, we’ve always wanted to go to India, so call us!” 

We spend the rest of our allotted time together talking planning a show in India for 2020 and although COVID-19 has postponed these plans for now, it’s something the band believe needs to happen. “We definitely wanna see you guys,” says Young K. “It’s always great to go to new places. Until the time that we meet, we want you guys to stay healthy and happy.”

By Riddhi Chakraborty

©️Rolling Stone India

[calumrose]

Trigger [Police/Gang!AU] Chapter 7 || C.H

A//N: I feel like I haven’t updated in so long when in reality it’s only been 3 days. I’ve got so many WIPs right now, and I am so excited to post more! So keep an eye out for those! But yes, here is chapter 7 for all you lovely people! Thank you to everyone who has been reading this so far, I really appreciate it! 

Word Count: 11.6k

Summary: Eloise Gray and Calum Hood, not two people you would ever think to put together. What started as a ploy for power turned into a romance, resulting in the realisation that loving your enemy may not be such a bad thing after all.

Previous Chapters: Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

12 Days Left

The constant honking of traffic, the incoherent chatter of bystanders, and the smell of excess petrol had become comforting to Eloise over the years. It was the natural scent of the city she resided in; the smell always so unbearably strong that it practically embedded itself in the noses of the visitors the city welcomed every day. And as much as Eloise wanted to escape and explore new places, she knew it would be a smell she would miss, even if only a little.

Central Park had only ever been a place she visited with friends, typically because the likes of Paige and Jackson lived in that side of New York, it being quite literally on their doorstep, unlike the rest of them who had to travel in order to visit the well-known location.

“Fancy a trip to the zoo?” Calum’s question caused her eyes to break from the sight of the busker to her left as they entered the park. She looked in the direction of where his eyes fell, looking towards the zoo entrance in all its glory along with the crowded queue that was almost painful to think about.

“Maybe another time,” She chuckled, not really in the mood to stand in a queue for god knows how long and pay a ridiculous price just to look at animals for a few hours, “Why don’t we just find a place to sit and have a conversation like normal people?”

“Normal people?” Calum’s tone held fake surprise, “You mean to tell me that you, Eloise, want to have an actual conversation with me?”

“Shocking stuff I know, now c’mon,” She responded with the same joking attitude, nudging the back of his arm as they continued to walk through the park. It was a sight that never failed to relax her, the greenery and gentle atmosphere being enough to temporarily transport her to a state of believing she had no worries, like she had nothing to be afraid of.

The past week with Calum had been nothing like she had experienced before. It felt good to know she had a safe space other than her own apartment although she had begun to feel unsafe in her own home, fearing that an unwelcome individual would burst through her door at any given moment after discovering her little secret. But in Calum’s home, she felt like she could live, breathe, and embrace every moment that she felt her heartbeat in her chest.

Seven days felt like seven months when they would lay together in his bed, fingers interlaced as she would trace his tattoos that were painted on his brown skin. She’d ask a million questions about them, wanting to know every story behind each individual piece of art that littered his body. She had learnt the story of how the initials on each hand were for his parents, the name on his left forearm was his sister, how the thistle on his bicep was a homage to his Scottish heritage, and how the Roman numerals on his collarbone represented a year that his life changed. There were so many stories he had shared that she felt as though she wouldn’t remember them, but she found herself being able to recall every single one each time her eyes caught sight of the ink.

Late night conversations were full of questions about their pasts, asking about their childhoods and about stupid things they could recall from simpler times. Calum was a lot more open about his own memories than Eloise was, many of her own recollections being forgotten with purpose. She didn’t know if she was ready to dig them all back up just yet, and Calum respected that.

Early morning rises would be filled with the smell of coffee and fruity essences from the yoghurt Calum had added to his shopping list after learning of Eloise’s love for the strawberry flavour. He learnt of her tendencies of waking up in the unsociable hours of the morning, her body clock naturally seeming to have shifted since she started staying at his place on a more regular occasion. Before, she was lucky if she could sleep past 10am, now it was 7am. Calum often woke up and found her in the kitchen, legs crossed as she sat up on the countertop by the window, staring out into the city as the sun rose up, a bowl of yoghurt and chopped fruit in her lap as she enjoyed the peaceful silence of the morning. He never disturbed her when she was in that state, his body just standing in opening of the hallway, dark eyes on her that were filled with nothing but admiration.

He had come to learn that she was very appreciative of the small moments that she got to experience, figuring that a lot of that was due to the great deal of loss she had suffered over the years; wanting to absorb everything she felt as though she took for granted, like the sunrise; a beautiful sight that only a lucky few got a chance to see in all its glory.

An open patch of grass caught Eloise’s attention, her fingers gripping onto the fabric of the sleeve of his empathy hoodie, subtly dragging him along so she could claim the empty space before any other civilian who was found at the park.

“El, babe, slow down,” The nickname fell from Calum’s lips like butter, as if it were always supposed to. He had dropped pet names like those a few times throughout their time together, and she wondered if he truly noticed how often he let them slip. They were natural to him, feeling as though there was no other name that he knew for her other than what he felt suited her so perfectly. Eloise could swear her stomach flipped every time a simple nickname fell from his soft lips, assuring her that she wanted nothing else than to hear them a thousand times over.

“You’re the one who dragged me outside, so we’ll do things at my pace, that’s the deal,” She smirked to herself as she adjusted her jeans slightly before sitting down at the dry grass.

“Since when did I agree to that?” He raised a questioning brow, the slight upturn of his lip’s inkling on a borderline smirk. That smirk would get him in trouble one day, Eloise could sense it.

The sun beat down on the city of New York, speckles of gold seeping through the gaps in the tree branches as it painted the park with strips of yellow. It created a sight that Eloise could only wish she could see every day; the sight of Calum sat there with the sun beating down, the bright rays only bringing out how golden he truly was, as if gold met gold in the moment the sun connected with him.

Brown eyes cascaded over the park around them, Eloise’s gaze settling on a young girl who sat a few metres from them. She watched as the young blonde’s hand worked against the sketchpad in her lap, eyes flickering up to glance at the grand building that towered over the park. Eloise felt her back straighten almost inquisitively, her head tilting slightly to side as if to try and get a better view of the pad.

“What’s she drawing?” Calum asked, leaning back against his hands to keep himself up, eyes watching Eloise’s curiosity get the better of her. He had noted that she was a curious person, always watching what people were doing, always noticing people who were so submerged in their own world, especially those of the artistic mind. She seemed to have an eye for it.

Eloise watched as the pencil in her hand glided along the paper, imagining she could hear the soft strokes of graphite against the white paper as if she were sitting right next to her. She had a lot of respect for art, it always blowing her mind how someone could create something so beautiful with their own hands. She let her brown eyes look back to Calum, noticing how his eyes were sat on her own, admiring the interest she had shown in the stranger’s talent, before she responded with a smile, “I think she’s drawing the top of The Plaza, because if you look just over there,” She pointed in the direction of where the girl had been looking, “You can see the top of the hotel over the trees.”

“You seem to notice a lot of artistic people in the city for someone who doesn’t hold an artistic bone in her body,” Calum chuckled, remembering how they had discussed previously Eloise’s admiration for art but never having the ability to create any herself. He pulled his arm close to his chest in attempt to avoid her hand as it tried to smack him, his nose scrunching just a little as the smile on his face grew. “Did you ever have any hobbies when you were a teenager? Or anything that stuck and grew into a passion?”

Eloise shook her head, wrapping an arm around her right knee as it bent so she could keep it close to her chest as she responded, “I was that kid who always tried to find a hobby but gave up within a few minutes because it wasn’t as straight forward as I wanted it to be, and I also had zero patience.” Her free hand reached up to pull down the sunglasses that were resting on her head, setting them against the bridge of her nose so they shielded her eyes from the sun as the bright glare shifted direction in the sky.

“Ah, so you were one of those kids,” Calum spoke as if it all suddenly made sense, resulting in another playful smack against his arm from Eloise. She had definitely met her match when it came to teasing people, “And yet there’s still so much for me to learn,”

“About?” Eloise quirked a brow, reaching around her back to pull down the back of her shirt, the cool breeze against her spine signalling that the shirt had begun to ride up.

“You,” Calum sat upright, reaching down between his legs as he plucked a few blades of grass from the ground, eyes watching his hands before he reconnected them with Eloise’s own dark ones, “I’ve got an idea; quick-fire quiz with random questions about you, you have one pass and you’ve got to answer everything, got it?”

“Why do I feel like I’m going to regret agreeing to this stupid game?” A playful roll of her eyes were given as she shifted her body weight, turning to her left so she could face him head on, “Right, go ahead then if you must.”

Calum parted his lips slightly as he looked up in thought. He hadn’t even considered making up any questions to ask, not quite expecting her to give in that easily. Who was he kidding? She gave into almost anything he asked, he knew that, so he should have been more prepared. The hamster wheel in his brain seemed to run for a few seconds before a thought came into his head. Thank god for that.

“First question, your favourite subject in school?” He raised an eyebrow, throwing a finger in her direction as he pointed at her, awaiting her answer.

Eloise pursed her lips as she thought for a moment. Come on El, this whole point of quick-fire questions is that it’s supposed to be quick. She tapped her fingers against her thigh for a few seconds before giving an unsure answer of, “I’d probably say English even though I was awful at it, Maths was more of my strong suit but I wouldn’t say I loved it,” She threw a shrug of her shoulders at Calum, “Next question.”

“Favourite colour?”

“Easy, it’s probably red.”

“I have never seen you wear the colour red,” Calum commented, his teeth brushing against his bottom lip as he highlighted the third word, “You barely wear anything other than black or grey, babe. So, for that reason I am calling bullshit.”

“And how would you know? What if I’m wearing red underwear?” Eloise couldn’t stop teasing smirk, a coy pout playing on her lips as she saw his eyebrows raise at her remark. She knew that he was fully aware of what colour her underwear was, as he was the one who had enjoyed the task of removing it from her hands before she had the chance to get dressed this morning, before pulling her into the bathroom for a morning of strenuous activities.

She swore she could see the events of their morning playing in his mind, watching as his jaw worked while her comment echoed in his ears. She loved watching how flustered he got in moments like that; moments where a certain tone, or a sudden string of words had him silenced.

“Favourite artist?” His voice sounded raspy; he hadn’t cleared his throat before he spoke. Eloise’s tongue poked the inside of her cheek, noting how he tried to brush over what she had said, fighting the urge to poke fun at the avoidance, knowing full well that what she had said had taken its effect on him.

“Oh that’s a tough choice,” She pursed her lips, a little smug due to knowing what he focusing on right then, she swore she could hear the little voice in his head as it shouted at him to think of something else, “It’s got to be either Mayday Parade or The Maine.”

“Good choice,” He nodded, coughing into his fist as a way of attempting to rid the scratch in his throat. Calum could barely hold himself together and Eloise knew what hold she had over him.

Both knees were pulled to Eloise’s chest, her arms resting on top before she placed her chin down to settle against her forearms, brown eyes looking up at the handsome man she found herself with. She always thought about what they were, if they had a specific title for what they had going on. Did she even want to put a label on what they had? Was there a point in labelling it? It was still something she was trying to figure out; how quickly she felt so normal with Calum, how suddenly everything just seemed like it fit into place as if it had always been that way.

Calum and Eloise had talked briefly about what they were. Calum never rushed her into deciding what she wanted, assuring that he would go with what she felt comfortable with and what she felt ready for. Calum knew he wanted no one else, only having eyes for the girl who had his heart in her hands. He felt vulnerable around her, as if she could shatter his heart within seconds. And unfortunately, there was truth in that concern, as was there with Eloise’s matching one in regard to him. They both held such a strong connection that could be turned and used against them in the press of a button.

The only thing Eloise was sure of was that Calum was everything she had been looking for without even knowing it. He was all she could have wanted in someone; gentle, caring, understanding, forgiving, and so much more that she couldn’t put into words. She had admitted that to him a few mornings ago when they were lying in his bed together, limbs tangled within the sheets, her fingers combing through his hair as they stared at one another. Calum voiced his understanding over her concern for how she felt, suggesting they just say that they’re exclusive with one another, keeping it private, but known to each other that there was no one else in the picture, only the two of them who had eyes for the other.

The little pet names seemed to fall into habit rather quickly after that conversation, the next morning being the first time Calum dropped one in the moment, yawning before he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek before climbing out of the entangled sheets to make his way into the bathroom to get himself ready for work. Eloise had let it slide at first, assuming it was just a slip of the tongue, but then they grew to be more regular, and she couldn’t deny that they didn’t not get her heart going.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Calum spoke up after a few minutes, “My ass is getting numb sitting here.” Eloise looked up to find him standing already, hand reached out for her to grab onto.

“We’ve been sitting for barely twenty minutes and you’re already complaining,” She scoffed, a gently chuckle being sounded as she reached up and grabbed onto his hand. She couldn’t hold back the soft grunt she let out as she let him pull her to her feet, focusing on the warmth of his hand that held onto hers. She noted how he didn’t let go, adjusting his fingers so they slipped in between her own, his hand practically enveloping hers in warmth as they moved back onto the path that led through Central Park.

Calum’s hand was so much larger than hers, she couldn’t help but notice the difference every time he held her hand, the size almost laughable. Eloise cursed at herself at the way butterflies erupted in her stomach at his touch, the smooth skin of his palm against hers being enough to make her feel like she was walking on sunshine. It was almost sickening how much she had grown to love the feeling of his skin on hers in more ways than one.

“What time’s your shift tomorrow?” Eloise spoke softly as they walked, eyes glancing down at their hands swinging gently between their bodies meanwhile their feet walked at different times, her long legs surprisingly unable to keep up with his timely long strides. For a taller girl, she could never walk quickly, not with Calum anyway.

“I start at eight tomorrow,” He responded, eyes catching the small family picnic that was going on just to their right, the corners of his mouth turning up at the thought of that possibility in his future. He had always been a family man, it only setting him up to be ready to eventually have one of his own with someone he loved, someone he could settle down and have a life with. “So, I was thinking, I’d give you a lift home tomorrow morning before I go to work if you need to grab some clean clothes and stuff, and then I could pick you up once I’m finished, take you back to my place and we could do something,”

Eloise’s eyes followed in the direction of where he had turned his head briefly, eyes falling on the young couple who sat with a child, he looked to be around four, as they laughed and smiled together. The open picnic basket was self-explanatory to Eloise, causing a cold shiver to run up her spine at the inkling of a memory she didn’t even know existed. She pulled her attention back up to Calum, hoping he didn’t notice her subtle shudder. “I was thinking I might stay at my place tonight for a change, my neighbours are gonna start being suspicious if they don’t hear me stumbling up my stairs at the crack of dawn soon,” She chuckled, squeezing his hand reassuringly, “It also means Duke can actually get some space in the bed for first time in a while, but I’ll come and see you tomorrow after your shift,”

“Duke’s gonna be upset that you’re leaving him in the house alone,” Calum pointed out, “I think he’s gotten quite fond of you sticking around during the day while I’m workin’, means he’s not on his own all day.” Eloise knew what he was doing; trying to subtly use Duke as a way of persuading – guilt tripping – her into staying at his place for another night. But Eloise knew she had to play this right, she had to go home at some point, she would have to submit herself to the clutches of the Gypsy Kings once again soon enough.

“And you can tell him that I’m very sorry but I have to,” She pouted her lips, leaning into Calum a little as they walked, “Or to make it up to him, I’ll make sure I bring a treat with me when I come back.”

“So, you’re going to bribe my dog?” He furrowed his brows down at her, glaring playfully at the brunette. Eloise puffed her cheeks briefly, eyes shifting out of Calum’s gaze as she focused on the floor for a second.

“Well, it’s the only way I can make sure that he’ll forgive me when I come back,”

“And what about me?” Calum tugged on her hand and pulled her to a stop, moving them out of the way on the path so they weren’t in anyone’s way. His eyebrows raised questioningly, a knowing smirk on his face as his spare hand found her waist, slipping beneath her jacket so he could feel the fabric of her oversized t-shirt beneath his fingers, voice barely above a gravelled whisper when he spoke, “How’re you gonna make sure that I forgive you for leaving me?”

“I’m sure a grown man like yourself can work out a few ways I can ask for your forgiveness,” She winked, giggling softly at the expression that sank onto Calum’s face, his head falling onto her shoulder as he let out a barely audible groan, although it was loud and clear in Eloise’s ears.

“I swear for the love of god,” Calum groaned out, grip tightening around Eloise’s waist as the hand that held hers awkwardly bent as he attempted to raise it. Eloise’s giggle echoed in his ears, the sound highlighting her awareness of how her words had affected him in public yet again. He was weak when it came to that girl, and it was as if she knew exactly how to play to his weakness, using it against him in a poorly timed place. “You’re cruel, and the fact that you’re not even coming back to my place tonight only proves my point,”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to amuse yourself without me,” She whispered, leaning her head so it rested against his on her shoulder, a soft smile creasing her lips as she stood like that for a minute. She wished she could pause time right there and take a picture from someone else’s point of view, to see them together. She tilted her head slightly, pressing a feather like kiss to the side of his head before she softly spoke, “Now c’mon, I’ll buy you a- Scott?”

Calum’s head shot up at her words, forehead creased as his brows furrowed, “You’ll buy me a Scott?”

Eloise didn’t even register his response, eyes looking over in the distance to where a scattering of people walked through the park. Her dark eyes spotted the familiar man in the distance, able to pick out his soft curls from anywhere as well as his particular walk.

“Wait here,” She told Calum, softly releasing his hand from hers and before she could even hear him respond she was running down the path towards the familiar body who had his back to her.

Calum stood there in place, watching as Eloise’s figure shrunk as she ran further into the distance, arms crossing against his chest as he moved along the path a little bit and found a tree to lean against. He pulled out his phone, trying to occupy himself as he waited for Eloise to come back, eyes shifting every few seconds between the screen in his hand to the pretty brunette as she attempted to catch up to her friend. He couldn’t help but feel protective, wanting to make sure she was alright at all times.

Eloise felt her chest get heavy as she ran down the path, a few eyes watching her as she ran past numerous runners; their eyes obviously judging her choice of attire for what they most likely assumed to be an afternoon run. Her eyes closed in on the familiar golden locks of her best friend, his leather jacket shining against the sun.

She reached her hand out as she caught up with him, panting lightly as she called out, “Oi Erikson, do I not even get a hello anymore?” Scott’s expression seemed almost dumbfounded when he turned around, his face relaxing when he registered her voice and saw the one and only Eloise stood behind him, hands resting on the caps of her knees as she caught her breath, bending slightly as she felt her heart hammer faintly against her chest before she could bring herself to stand upright, breath returning to normal after a few seconds passed.

“You’re seriously out of shape,” Scott scoffed, laughing at his best friend’s poor attempt at hiding her heavy breaths as she stood up. Eloise reached out and shoved his shoulder lightly, sending him a warning glare as she straightened up, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets, and stood comfortably.

“Shut up, I’m in better shape than most of that lot,” She laughed, jutting her chin out in the direction of the park, directing her comment towards the others within the gang. Both of them knew which members she was silently talking about, a joint laugh escaping them both at the inside knowledge. “What’re you doing here anyway, last time I checked Central Park is a bit far out of Brooklyn, especially for the likes of you, Scott?”

Scott chuckled at her comment, almost nervously, as he raised his shoulders in a half-shrug, “Suppose I could say the same for you, you’re a bit far out of Brooklyn yourself,” Eloise couldn’t help but notice how his eyes were shifting, as if he were searching for someone or keeping an eye out. He seemed antsy, not an unusual occurrence when it came to Scott being this far out Brooklyn. “How’ve you been anyway? How’re things comin’ along with your cop friend?”

Eloise let out a quiet sigh, shifting her weight to her other foot as she answered, “I should be asking you how you are, you’ve hardly answered your phone and you seem to be ignoring my texts. Am I too lame to talk to now?” She scoffs jokingly at him, chewing the inside of her cheek as she continues, “I’m working on him, I’ve got some information that’ll be useful for Jay to know. I’ve also set up a few decoy details for him to take back to his precinct, so give me a few more days and we’ll be ready to go,”

Scott nods, taking in the words that Eloise had practically spoon fed him. She prayed he couldn’t see through it, praying that for a man she believed to know her so well, that he couldn’t see right through the lies she had just fed to him. She knew he would take her words back to Jay, informing him of the ‘work’ she had done. Scott’s eyes travelled behind Eloise, she had noticed he had done that a few times already, wondering what he was looking at.

“Take it, that’s him?” He jutted out his chin in the direction of the park behind her, eyes finding the dark ones of Calum who kept his gaze firmly planted on Eloise’s back, “Either that’s your copper or some big creepy dude has been staring at your ass for the past five minutes, and my money is the former.”

Eloise rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she glanced behind her, brown eyes finding Calum’s. She smiled softly at him, offering him a small wave as a silent act of reassurance that she was alright. She noted how his shoulders seemed to relax a little at her action, the muscles sinking as his eyes never left her, “Yeah, that’s Calum.”

“So, you gonna let me meet the guy who you’ve been spending all of your time with or are you going to keep me in suspense?” Scott raised an eyebrow, lips parting briefly as he glanced in Calum’s direction. Eloise thanked the sun for her helping her hide her flushed cheeks, making her cheeks and nose almost rosy at the thought of Calum and Scott meeting, the thought making her feel like someone had just dropped a lead weight in her stomach. Eloise couldn’t help but feel as though she was in a catch 22; stuck between her best friend who believed she was acting one way, and Calum who knew her to be acting in the opposite.

But that didn’t stop her from nodding, feeling Scott’s arm slip around her shoulders as they began to make their way to where Calum stood. “Be nice,” Eloise warned through gritted teeth as they closed in on the tree that Calum stood under. The air felt as though it thickened with the closer that they got, Eloise’s chest tightening as she tried to fight the feeling of anxiety that she could feel bubbling up inside of her.

Calum straightened up, sliding his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and walked over and met them halfway, a friendly smile on his face as he met Eloise’s uneasy eyes, noting how uncomfortable she must have been at the thought of Calum meeting her brother by association.

Eloise forced the discomfort in her stomach down, trying to ignore it as she stood with Scott by her side, arm still around her shoulders as he looked towards Calum, a rather unimpressed look on his face. She let out a small cough, clearing her throat, as she introduced them, “Scott, this is Calum, Calum, this is my best friend Scott,” She felt as though she wanted the world to swallow her whole as she felt Scott’s grip tighten ever so slightly around her, a natural tension he had around those he didn’t know and didn’t trust.

“It’s nice to meet you, mate,” Calum sent him a gentle singular nod of his head, a warm smile on his face as he reached out his hand for Scott to shake, “El’s told me a lot about you, you sound like a very important man.”

Eloise sent him a glance, silently thanking him for trying to play it cool, for being nice towards Scott even though the reaction he was receiving from the blond was anything but. Her eyes fell to Scott, sending a subtle kick to the back of his ankle as if to silently say, ‘Just shake his hand.’

Scott sighed as he reached out his hand, grasping Calum’s in his grip as they shook, a dry laugh coming from his throat as he tried not to roll his eyes. “That’s quite a strong grip you’ve got there,” Eloise couldn’t help it as she rolled her eyes at Scott’s remark, silently praying he would drop the act and just be like the Scott she knew, that he would act like her best friend.

“Comes with the territory.” The response was quick to come from Calum, it being instant much like the forced smile on his lips. Eloise knew he would be silently making his job known to Scott, even though he wasn’t trying to rupture Scott, she couldn’t help but want to move things along, trying to cut the interaction as short as possible to spare any unnecessary tension.

It’s not like there wasn’t plenty of it already.

“I was gonna suggest to Calum that we go and grab a hot dog if you wanted to join us?” Eloise offered, head nodding towards the exit of the park, the memory of the brightly coloured food cart outside the gates making her mouth water at the thought. “It’ll be my treat.”

Scott shook his head practically as soon as Eloise let the words slip from her mouth, hand coming up and shaking alongside his head, “I can’t stay long, I’ve got somewhere to be. I just wanted to come by and say hi,”

The awkward silence is almost painful. Cursing herself, Eloise wished she never agreed to letting Scott come over. She wished she had just said something along of the lines of how she’d rather keep them separate to save questions but of course she didn’t think this through. Nice one, Eloise.

She was about to open her mouth to speak, her brain scrambling as it attempted to create a sentence for her to use in order to break the silence before Calum beat her to it.

“So, how long have you known Eloise?” Calum asked, adjusting his stance as an attempt to be perceived as more friendly, trying to cut the clear tension that clouded them, hand resting over the outline of his phone in his pocket.

Eloise didn’t need to see the shift in Scott’s eyes as they fell to her, she could feel the burn in the side of her head along with the way his arm moved, it dropping from around her and returning back to his side, hand sliding back into its home inside his pocket. Eloise wanted to curse herself, knowing she should’ve warned Calum about one thing, but of course she didn’t think. She could only hope this helped her out, that Scott took it as a sign that things were working, that she was invested in the way she needed them to believe, that she was capturing Calum’s attention like they had intended. She just hoped that it wasn’t seen for what it really was.

She needed to slow down; she knew that she was getting too far ahead of herself. Scott was smart, but he wasn’t that smart.

“Too long,” Her voice muttered, a gentle smirk playing her lips as she glanced at Scott, playfully nudging him with her hip to try and go along with the friendly interaction.

“Uh yeah, we’ve been best mates since we were kids. The both of us went through some rough stuff growing up and we’ve stuck together ever since,” Scott nodded, throwing a casual shrug of shoulders into the mix with his response, “I just can’t seem to shake her off.”

“Fuck off,” Eloise laughed, raising a knowing brow, “You’d be lost with me or dead even. I have saved your life more times than you can count.”

It was true. There was more truth in that statement than what Scott wanted to admit. Eloise had helped him out a lot throughout their time together; throughout school, starting off in the gang, and just about every other occasion where things didn’t go to plan for the blond boy.

Eloise had been the one to help him talk his way out of situations he found himself in when he thought he was clever. She had also been the one to cover for him when he would get himself into messes and need a friend to pull him out. Eloise had always been there for him over the years and he couldn’t deny that.

Scott shot her a warning glance before letting a small laugh laced with nostalgia leave him, unable to hide the truth in the statement, “I was a bit of a klutz back in the day, and this one here helped me out a lot. I guess you could say I never quite understood what public embarrassment truly meant,”

“A klutz with a big mouth and shocking taste in women,” Eloise couldn’t stop the mutter before it was too late, eyes watching as Scott scoffed at her and he amusingly jabbed her with his elbow.

“On that note, I’m gonna take my leave,” Scott excused himself, taking a step back as he attempted to extract himself from the gathering rather quickly, “It was nice to meet you, Calum. Suppose I might see you ‘round if she keeps you for longer than usual,” A dry laugh escaped him as he made the remark, eyes catching Eloise’s glaring ones.

Eloise shook her head, the nod barely noticeable as she clenched her jaw and grit her teeth, a warning glare being shot at Scott, “I was gonna ask if you wanted to come by my place tonight and we could hang out, but just for that you can fuck off,” She sighed, raising her hand as she threw a middle finger in his direction.

Scott hummed, knowing she would still want him to come by her apartment. She never didn’t want him to come over when she had offered. “I’ve got plans tonight, some business I need to take care of for work. How about tomorrow night instead? I’ll call you when I’m on my way,”

Eloise sent Scott a nod, “Sure, see you tomorrow then,”

Eventually they bid Scott a goodbye, watching as his silhouette disappeared into the distance, vanishing out of the park as it merged into the crowds that were usually thought of when it came to New York. Eloise released a relieved sigh, the departure of her best friend making her feel as though she could breathe again, feeling the tension deplete with the great distance between them that grew as he was out of sight.

She turned in place, catching Calum’s eyes watching as she seemed to relax. God, she felt horrible for making him suffer through that. Scott wasn’t usually so… not Scott. She swore he was a nice guy but this just highlighted the arrogance that she tried to ignore every day, almost if she forced herself to be blinded to it, not wanting to believe he had it in him to act like that.

“I’m really sorry about him, he’s not usually like that,” Eloise apologised, figuring she owed Calum some form of an explanation as to why she shot off earlier without a second thought, “Scott’s been giving me the silent treatment for the past few days and I didn’t know why; he was avoiding my calls and ignoring my texts and it was bugging me because we used to never go a single day without talking to one another,” She was rambling now, “So when I saw him, I guessed it was a perfect opportunity to ask him about it and then he spotted you staring, asked if he could come and say hi, then he- “

“Eloise, it’s alright,” Calum cut her off with a laugh, stopping her in the middle of a ramble that not even she knew how long it would continue for, his hands placing themselves on her shoulders, squeezing them reassuringly, “He’s your friend, you’re allowed to go and speak to him,”

“Something’s not right with him though,” She sighed, feeling rather defeated, “He’s not himself and I can’t tell what it is. It’s almost like he’s changing, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“You can’t do anything,” Calum told her, slipping a comforting arm around her shoulder as they turned and began to make their way through the park, heading towards the exit, walking the opposite direction to where Scott had departed, “It’s probably whatever Jay’s planning just getting to his head. It’s a big scheme and a lot is on the line for them,”

“Thanks for reminding me,” She rolled her eyes, sighing heavily as they walked.

The colours of the food cart soon came into sight, Eloise’s stomach practically growling at the thought of some food. The two of them made their way over to the queue, standing in line and began to wait.

“Scott’ll be meeting with some the guys tonight,” She spoke out, “That’s what he meant by ‘work’, so he’ll be filling them in on our little run-in today,”

“And that’s a good thing, right?” Calum sent a questioning look.

“I think so, it’ll make them think that their plan is working,” She nodded, silently trying to convince herself of her uncertain response, “The fact that you called me Eloise will go a long way in convincing them, it’ll make them see that I’ve ‘wormed’ my way in,” She raised her fingers to use as quotation marks at the word wormed.

The confusion is Calum’s face couldn’t be missed, the crease in his forehead and furrow of his brows only solidifying the questioning look he continued to give her, “How is me calling you by your name helping?”

Eloise sighed, knowing she would need to explain. She cleared her throat as she looked ahead of the line, making a note of the few people in front of them that were still waiting to be served.

“Back when I lost my dad, it was quite hard to hear my name. People had been calling me ‘El’ for a while since I was a kid, but my parents almost always called me Eloise, and when I didn’t have them around anymore, my name just reminded me of them and how much I was hurting,” She explained, sighing as she threw a hand in her pocket, feeling Calum’s arm drop from her shoulder as it found her free one, his fingers lightly grasping hers as an attempt to comfort her, “So I started telling people to just call me ‘El’ so it felt like I wasn’t me, so I could pretend like it didn’t happen,”

Calum just nodded, brushing her knuckles with his thumb as he listened. Every time she mentioned her parents, he couldn’t stop his heart from hurting, almost as if he was feeling her own pain when she spoke of them.

“But certain people still call me by my full name, but it became sort of public knowledge with those I associated myself with that only certain people got to call me Eloise; like Scott, Han, my friends: Paige, Roman, and the rest of that group. And now you,” She smiled up at him, squeezing his hand as they took a step forward in the queue, “So, since Scott heard you use my full name, it’s gonna intentionally take this whole thing a lot further, almost securing their perception of what it is that they think I’m doing,”

The mention of Paige and Roman reminded Eloise that she still needed to introduce Calum to them, thinking of the endless stream of text messages she had received from Paige with requests of organising a double date ever since she found out about Eloise and Calum’s mutual agreement of being ‘secretly exclusive’.

She had tried to fight with the idea of Calum meeting her friends, trying to convince herself that it was a bad idea as it just made what they had feel even more real; like it was going last and they were going to be going places after the deal was done. Eloise wasn’t sure if she could bring herself to ignore the harsh reality and let herself fall into the self-made trap of pretending that she lived in a world where she and Calum would walk away from this with no repercussions, where they would be able to live as a normal couple.

Calum was about to speak, a voice laced with a thick accent stopping him as it called out, “Next! ‘iya sweetheart, what can I get ya?”

Eloise’s eyes turned to meet the rather large man in front of them, face a little red and shining an almighty mole in the right side of his chin. He smelled like hot dogs; Eloise noted. Although she wasn’t sure if it were him or the fact that they were at a hot dog stand, but she could be sure that the smell was rather overpowering.

They gave him their orders, standing next to one another as they waited for him to prepare the carb loaded items. Calum’s hand never dropped hers, his fingers finding the spaces between hers before slipping into them, her hand fitting in his like a glove. He felt the need to always be touching her, feeling an uneasy sensation settle in his gut if he was around her and didn’t have his skin touching hers in some way. It wasn’t like Eloise minded; she embraced any physical connection she could get with Calum when she could, silently reminding herself that it most likely wasn’t going to last forever.

Hotdogs in hand, they made their way down the streets of New York, the steam from the slabs of meat in their breaded buns travelling up into the air as they walked together.

“So, you don’t mind that I call you Eloise?” Calum’s question could only just be heard over the sound of a yellow taxi honking it’s horn next to where they waited to cross the street, “I can call you El if that- “

Eloise slapped his shoulder gently, holding her finger up as she silently asked him to wait while she chewed the bite of her hotdog she had just taken. Once swallowed, she smiled at him, wiping the slaver of grease she swore she felt just below her lip with edge of her palm, before she said, “I actually prefer it when you call me Eloise, it sounds better coming from you unlike some people.”

“Good,” Calum speaks through a mouthful of hotdog, hand coming up to cover the sight of half-chewed food, “I like saying your name; it’s pretty, much like the girl it belongs to.”

Eloise couldn’t stop herself from faking a gag, laughing at Calum as she rolled her eyes, amused, “Do you have an off switch, or do you just permanently ruin moments with cheesy lines?”

Calum playfully nudged her as they turned a corner, careful not to knock her into anyone as he leaned over and pressed a quick chaste kiss to her cheek once he had freed his mouth of the remnants of his snack, “Only speaking the truth, doll,”

“Security!” Eloise jokingly calls out, “Can someone please come and remove Mr Smooth from my presence?” She’s unable to stop her laugh as Calum’s hand reaches out, attempting to nip at her sides, “Get off!” She squealed, trying to push his hand away, quickly apologising to the bystander who she accidently bumped into in her attempt to move out Calum’s reach.

Let’s just say that Calum got a friendly smack on the back of the head for that one.

They eventually discovered a bin to discard of their wrappers, tossing them away before they continued their walk back to where Calum had parked his car just a few blocks south of Central Park. The sun continued to shine down on New York, a gentle cooling breeze warranting through the city, adding a refreshing chill to contrast against the heat. They walked down the streets side by side, Calum’s arm draped over her shoulders, meanwhile Eloise’s wound its way around his waist, hips lightly brushing against one another, her small fingers gently gripping onto the fabric of his hoodie as an attempt to keep close to him, head resting on his shoulder as they walked through the city.

“You want me to drop you off at your place?” Calum asked, arm around her shoulders, fingers lightly brushing against the cool material of her jacket, “Or can I convince you to stay at my place for another night?”

Eloise shook her head, her stomach vibrating with her silent closed-mouthed laugh, “I need to go back to my place like I told you. I need time to think about what I’m gonna say to Scott tomorrow,”

“What do you mean?”

“I need to talk to him about some stuff; nothing about the plan or the shipment, nothing to do with the gang whatsoever,” She sighed as they stopped in front of Calum’s car, her arm dropping from around his waist as her back rested against the hood of the black vehicle, Calum’s arm being removed her shoulder as he moved to stand in front of her, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and taking her hand in his for what felt like the hundredth time that day, “I want to talk to him as friends, as the best friends that we’re supposed to be. I’m worried about him because he used to talk to me about everything and I did the same with him when my life fell apart, but now it feels like we’re more strangers than best friends,”

Calum sent her a reassuring smile, squeezing her hand gently as he reached into his pocket to find his car keys, sending her an assured, “I’m sure he’ll be okay, Eloise.”

“He’s going to hate me when this is over.” Eloise couldn’t stop the tears brimming in her eyes, her throat quivering at the thought of how this was going to affect Scott; the guilt of it seeming as though it would eat her alive.

Calum shook his head, more to himself than to her, raising his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks, his thumbs gently gliding across the apples of her sweet skin as he said, “Let him. Eloise, if he’s really your best friend then he’ll realise why you’ve done this and he’ll forgive you,”

“And what if he never does?” She asked painfully, her voice sounding almost as defeated as she felt.

“Then he clearly isn’t the kind of man you want to believe he is,” Calum spoke truthfully, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, holding his lips there for a few seconds before he took a small step back, opening the car for them to get in, “C’mon, we’ll get ice cream on our way back to your place, my treat,”

“Thank you, Calum,” She smiled, wiping away the packed tears before they had a chance to fall, taking in a deep shaky breath as she attempted to pull herself together, “For everything,”

“Anything for you, Eloise,” He whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder she would float away with the light breeze, gently reaching down and reconnecting their hands, lifting hers to his lips as he placed a soft kiss to her knuckles, “Absolutely anything.”

*****

11 Days Left

Eloise felt as though she was suffocating, the air around her thick with tension as she watched Scott from the corner of her eye. He had arrived just less than an hour ago, walking in with a pizza in his hand, claiming to be splashing the cash as an early celebration for her hard work.

Every time she looked at Scott, she was reminded of the lies she was living, the lies she was trapping him with, and the guilt was eating her alive, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him. As much as her natural instinct would be to warn him of an upcoming ambush, she knew this time it had gone too far, and she couldn’t save him like she so desperately wanted to.

“I had a dream last night,” Eloise spoke quietly, almost sounding as if she was talking to herself, head leaning back as her eyes met with the ceiling briefly, “We were kids again, we must have been six or seven, and we were sitting in a field, just the two of us,” The corners of her mouth upturned, her teeth gently nipping on the inside of her lip, her voice continuing, “I was freaking out, panicking about what we were doing and you kept telling me to calm down, assuring me that we would be alright, you said that you’d make sure they would take care of us,”

Scott’s eyes caught Eloise’s as she looked in his direction, her back resting against the armrest of the couch, “Who were ‘they’?” Scott queried; eyebrows furrowed in question.

“I’ve got no idea,” She said with a breathy chuckle, shaking her head lightly as she reached forward to close over the empty pizza box that lay spread out on the coffee table, the cold stench of tomato and cheese making Eloise feel slightly queasy, before she added, “A monster? Or maybe someone we knew?”

“There’s plenty of monsters around this city,” Scott’s voice almost went unheard, the comment barely audible over the low volume of the TV. But fortunately for Eloise, she heard it loud and clear.

Scott’s words held a lot of truth in them; more truth than most would like to admit, the truth that fell deaf at many people’s ears. They had always been told as kids that monsters weren’t real, that they were figments of their own imaginations, a simple phase they would grow out of. But Eloise never grew out of it, her eyes finding them everywhere she turned. And now, to her own terror, she waited for her best friend to take that final form.

“Can I ask you something?” Eloise rolled her lips into her mouth, taking Scott’s hum as a response, taking a small breath before she continued, hoping he wouldn’t mind her bringing up past events, “Have you spoken to Seth recently? It’s just that you’ve been quiet the past few days, and I know what yesterday was, and I also know he usually crawls out of his hole around this time of year, so I just wanted to- “

“He’s not reached out to me if that’s what you’re wondering,” Scott pursed his lips, shaking his head slowly as he stared straight ahead at the scene playing on the TV screen. It wasn’t until earlier that day that Eloise had pieced together why Scott had been so distant lately, cursing herself for nearly forgetting what had happened all those years ago.

How could she nearly forget? She had a reminder of what happened on that day nearly four years ago permanently etched on her leg; the scar on her thigh never having properly healed, the textured skin serving as a reminder to not only her, but to Scott about what happened that day. And it was all down to a stupid idea made by him and someone he thought to be his friend.

They were 17; young, juvenile, and eager.

They all wanted to be recognised as key members of the Gypsy Kings; fed up and tired of being treated like the kids they didn’t believe themselves to be. They wanted to establish to the older men of the gang that they were ready to take their places in their society.

Eloise, Scott, Ben, Seth, and Gabriel had all piled themselves in Seth’s car one night, driving into the southside of Brooklyn, heading for Wiley’s mattress factory after hearing rumours of illegal liquor being stored in the basement. Scott and Seth had been talking to snitches across the city, pretending to be working for the higher members of the gang to retrieve information on any activity they could attempt to ransack. And boy, when they heard about the Moonshine, it was like they had just woken up on Christmas Day.

They had planned to sneak into the factory, having worked out their entry route as well as their exact strategy: fill a few bags with some bottles of the Moonshine, sell it off to clients that Ben had sniffed out with Eloise’s help, and prove themselves to those who doubted them.

But they had one flaw in their plan; they didn’t take into consideration that there would be any security. Their inexperienced minds had assumed that the factory would be empty, as if they could walk straight in and straight out with bags full of the strong liquor without any struggle. As genius as they thought their plan was, it was only proven to be the complete opposite from the minute they got inside that factory.

Their venture into the factory had gone smoothly, remaining undetected as they snuck into the basement, discovering the underground distillery along with the crates packed with bottles and jars of the spirit. They thought had hit the jackpot, obnoxiously throwing high-fives around as they crammed as much Moonshine into their bags as they could fit and still be able to carry.

Seth was smugger than any of them, claiming that he knew they’d win big with his idea to break into the factory, although they all knew it was him and Scott combined who discovered the rumours of the illegal distillery. Seth was the reason why it all went wrong, getting too ahead of himself and getting too excited, his voice was too loud in the quiet building, and no matter how many times they all told him to be quiet, he didn’t listen.

They had managed to sneak back up into the main foyer of the factory, spotting the door they had entered through, the heavy panel still open ajar so the glint of orange from the streetlamp outside could be seen in the distance. Ben had sent everyone out in front of him, his natural polite nature being what got him killed.

No – them being there is what got Ben killed.

They were nearly out of the factory, Scott’s hands just centimetres from the door before a shout broke their attention, eyes darting across the room to see a tall, thin, wrinkly man pacing towards them, gun in hand with their young bodies as targets. Ben had pushed Eloise forward, telling them to run, but it was too late for him.

Scott thrust the door open and practically threw himself out of it, feet moving out of the doorway as Seth followed hot on his tail, but Eloise had remained frozen in place as she watched Ben’s body fall to the ground as the sound of a gunshot echoed within the factory. Her eyes burned into the hole that branded itself into his back, the dark crimson colour painting his back almost unnoticeable due to the lack of light in the room.

Eloise could still make out Wiley’s eyes in the darkness, she swore she could see red in his irises as nothing, but rage and pure animalistic tendencies coursed through them. Scott had shouted for Eloise to run but she couldn’t hear him, the murderous gunshot echoing in her ears as her eyes became scarred with the sight of the body of the young boy who she had grown fond of.

She hadn’t realised she was moving until Scott grabbed her hand, almost ripping her arm out of the socket as he hauled her out of the building, a second gunshot being heard before a piercing yell from Eloise as her hand reached down for her leg as she tried to run. The pain of the piercing bullet in her thigh was nothing like she had ever felt before, it momentarily distracting her from the death she had just witnessed.

Scott had ended up carrying her back to Seth’s car, her mind not even registering Gabriel who had taken Scott’s place in the front seat as Seth started the car and raced back to their hideout, breaking every red light and stop sign that he came across in the early hours of the morning.

“What about Ben?” Her voice was quiet, throat dry as she blinked rapidly, trying to keep her eyes open although the urge to sleep was becoming too strong.

Scott had removed his belt from his jeans, tying it around her leg as an attempt to the try and stop the bleeding, using his hoodie as a gauze to keep pressure on the world, panicked and with a shake of his head, he said, “It’s too late, El. He’s gone,”

The last thing she remembered before she passed out was the heartache in Scott’s voice; at his words in regard to Ben but also to Eloise as he tried to call out to her, telling her to keep her eyes open and stay awake for him.

She woke up a while later, unsure of how long she had been out for, the tapestry pinned the ceiling above her head capturing her attention when she first opened her eyes, silently telling her who’s home she was in. Of course, she had been brought there.

“She’s awake,” A voice called out; older, yet familiar.

Brown eyes looked to her right, to which she found Han stood by her side, his eyes looking towards the doorway of the bedroom she was laying in. Faint footsteps got louder before two familiar bodies were stood in the doorway; faces etched with guilt and grief as they prepared themselves for the verbal abuse they would receive because of their actions, as if they hadn’t suffered enough.

“I agreed I wouldn’t ask what happened until she was awake,” Han’s voice spoke, arms crossing against his chest as he stood firmly, shoulders tense as he frowned at the two boys, “So, now you better start talkin’,”

Eloise’s eyes met with Scott’s golden ones, a gentle smile spreading across her face at the sight of her best friend, unable to ignore the way her heart hurt at the emotional turmoil he appeared to be in. She remembered almost instantly what had happened, the memories of the factory unfolding in her mind like a movie scene; the sight of Ben’s body collapsing and the gunshot prominent in her vision. She noted of Gabriel seemed to share a similar expression, except he looked to be more uncomfortable rather than upset. It’s not like it was his idea to go and hit that factory, Seth had pressured him into it. Speaking of Seth, where was he?

Gabriel looked as if he was about to speak, about to tell Han what had happened before Scott cut in, “It was all my idea; I thought it would be really cool if we were to try and prove ourselves to you guys by cashing in. I wanted to prove that we weren’t just kids and that we were ready for the big stuff like you guys were at our age,” Scott looked to be embarrassed, almost irritated actually as he claimed the blame for why they were in their current position, “So, we snuck into Wiley’s, tried to steal a couple of bottles of the Moonshine I heard he had been cooking up in his basement. I figured we could sell it on and bring the profits to the hideout… But all I managed to do was get two of my friends shot,”

Han’s sigh was nothing but full of disappointment, his exhale was heavy as he rubbed a hand over his face and looked at Scott, who’s eyes were planted firmly on his feet, unable to keep eye contact with anyone within the room.

It wasn’t the first time Han had been woken up at four in the morning, being asked if he can help someone who was injured. He just never expected for the victim of his next bullet extraction to be the girl who he had promised her dad he would look out for if anything were to happen.

Han’s throat worked, slowly swallowing a frustrated lump as he shook his head, pointing to Scott with an accusing finger, “Just be thankful it was only one life you lost last night. The bullet was only in her leg, and thankfully for your own sake, it didn’t hit anything critical, so she’s gonna be fine as long as it doesn’t get infected,” Han practically cursed himself at the thought of this being any worse than what it was, unsure of what he would do if it had been a wound to her chest or worse, “It’s just gonna take her a few days to be up and walking again, it’s gonna be a bitch of a recovery to get through,”

“I’ll stay with her until she’s ready to move,” Scott stepped forward, nodding his head at Han.

“She’ll be staying here until then, I’ll be keeping an eye on her and making sure it stays clean,” Han packed away the bloody rags that were on the floor, tossing them into his slow burner that sat in the corner of his living room, his eyes watching the sight of the rags beginning to catch the flames as they burned vigorously.

“That’s fine, but like I said, I’m staying with her. It’s my fault this happened, so it’s my responsibility.”

“You never left my side the entire time I was stuck at Han’s place,” She scoffed with a smile at the memory, “It doesn’t surprise me that Han stopped calling in sick for us with the school,”

And it was true, Scott never once went home the entire time that Eloise’s leg was healing. He practically lived at Han’s with her during that time. He felt guilty for what had happened, and he nominated himself to take full responsibility for the factory incident since Seth ran off the minute that he dropped them outside Han’s front door, driving off down the road to never been seen again.

They still didn’t know where he had gone or if he was even alive. Seth had chosen to run away from the gang after Ben died, walking away from any sole responsibility for the death of a teenager and the injury that left Eloise physically scarred. Scott had taken the blame for what happened because at the time he still felt like Seth was his friend, and he didn’t realise that when Seth drove away that night it would be the last time they saw or spoke to each other.

Eventually the truth had come out about how the plan to raid Wiley’s was a joint effort, but it didn’t make things any easier for Scott to cope with.

They never got a chance to bury Ben’s body, nor did his own parents have a chance to say their goodbyes. They received the news of their son’s death via the Gypsy Kings, something that Scott will never be able to erase; never forgetting the sight of his mother breaking down as she heard the news that her son wouldn’t be coming home.

Scott had decided from that day on to pay homage to Ben, wanting to show that he was being remembered by those who cared about him. So, every year on the day of Ben’s death, Scott would travel to Manhattan, to Ben’s parents’ house where he would lay a single red rose on their doorstep and walk away, paying a silent tribute to the boy who had a secret love for flowers and everything nature related; a small secret that only those close to him knew.

It was the death of Ben that sparked Scott’s ignorance when it came to people’s feelings, why he never let himself get attached to anyone new. After he experienced the pain of when Ben left him, only being accompanied by the abandonment his parents left him with – though they thought they were protecting him – once his mother got caught up in her own scandals, Scott decided to distance himself from people, allowing himself to use them for his piece of fun and nothing more.

Throughout everything, Scott and Eloise only ever had each other for long enough. They both had no real family to take care of them; both having left them although in different circumstances. It was from day Eloise had started walking again, leg slowly healing, that they decided they were in it together for the long haul. They had sworn to be brother and sister to each other until they died, always being there for one another when needed.

The memories of how they were before hurt Eloise to think about; looking back and seeing how quickly he was willing to sell himself out to protect someone who he thought was a friend, and how determined he was to sleep by her side while her leg healed, never hesitating or complaining when she woke up in the middle of the night and needed help getting to the bathroom or if she needed something as small as a drink of water.

But when she looked at Scott as she sat opposite him, his floppy curls pointed in all directions, face solemn as he stared out of the window, dark bags beneath his eyes, she couldn’t help but feel as though that something had changed. As much as she did genuinely enjoy his company; she could see their connection had a crack in it. Typical nights in where they would be clutching their stomachs in laughter or racing through the apartment as they play-fought like they were kids again were nothing but a distant memory being replaced with the latest reality of less smiles between them and added tension as Scott’s focus seemed to be elsewhere, as if he had better things to do other than spend time with the girl who had he practically grown up with.

The promise they made to each other is one she’d never be able to forget, no matter how hard she tried. It was a stupid pinkie promise they made on that day that had unintentionally become the glue between them and sadly she felt as though it was drying out and they were breaking off. It pained her to know what was silently happening between them, knowing it would only become clearer when she broke that promise, betraying one of the most important men in her life – or at least that’s what he used to be. It was painful, immensely, but she knew she had to follow through with it. It was for the sake of the city they called home, as well as his own good, and like Calum said, if he were truly her best friend then he would come to forgive her, surely not?

It was a risk she had to take. She had to break everything she had grown to know, unable to stand aside and watch as those around her destroyed themselves as well as innocent people.

“Brother and sister until we die. Bullets, friends, and relationships will never separate us. We’ll always have each other, we’ll always fight for each other, we’ll always love each other no matter what.”

---

Tag List: @steviemae​ @elsysoza​ @treatallwithkindness @oopsiedoopsie23​

[monstaxeurope]

HYUNGWON:  ATSTAR1  INTERVIEW

WARM HYUNGWON

The faint smile over a compliment makes him more adorable than the experience and skillfulness of someone, who debuted 6 years ago. Hyungwon and his warm smile, that make the cold winter wind go away, are back, meeting us for the 3rd time already. Monsta X, who showed us broader outlook on the world with the release of <FANTASIA X> in May of 2020, came back with an even more mature image with the release of their 3rd full album <FATAL LOVE> in November of 2020. Especially ‘Nobody else’, one of the songs on the album composed by Hyungwon, is a sophisticated pop song, which perfectly shows his musical growth. 

Besides the group promotions, his participation as a DJ in many festivals and continuous music activities are nicely reflected in the 3 minute and 3 seconds long song. We met with kind and warm Hyungwon, who will show us an even wider music spectrum in the future, prioritizing Monsta X over individual activities even after years of piled up experience. 

Not sure if it's because we filmed with products you use in your daily life, but I think we got a lot of natural expressions on tape.

HW: I had dry lips since I was young. That's why I use Burt's Bees Lip Balm in my daily life too. I'm glad that we could film this together. I also find it fascinating(laugh). 

Congratulations on your comeback. Since it's a full album you must have spend a lot of time on it, please recommend one of the songs you like the most. 

HW: Personally, I want to point out ‘Sorry I'm not sorry’. It was nice we could let people listen to a calm and comfortable song after showing strong and performance-focused stages all the time. It's a song that once again proved how well our voices match with a song like this too, so I really like it. 

What would you say is the killing point of ‘Love Killa’?

HW: Every part has a killing point. Should I say the members' restrained sexiness? In my opinion the killing point might be how we're all covered but the overall vibe of the song has a sexy feeling. 

You released your 3rd full album <FATAL LOVE> and your self-composed song is included for the first time. What kind of song is ‘Nobody Else’?

HW: The topic of the song is ‘perfume’. When you first spray a perfume there's a strong fragrance but it gets weaker over time. I compared the fading scent of a perfume to love. Actually, love wasn't the only message I was trying to convey, I wanted to include wider meanings, like relationships between people or relationship between a fan and a singer. It's the same in human relationships, you naturally become distant with time. But I didn't want that to happen to me. So I wrote this song with ‘I wish the strong fragrance from the start stays the same all the time’ in mind. 

Different from the EDM you did before, you presented pop this time. Was there anything new you learned while composing?

HW: I tried different things and really thought about it a lot. And that's how I naturally broadened my knowledge on different genres. I worried a lot about how to write the lyrics so my sincerity will get conveyed perfectly. I listened to a lot of foreign songs and did a lot of studying on melody and lyrics writing. 

Was 'Nobody Else' written exclusively for this album?

HW: It's a song that was in the making since our last album 'FANTASIA X'. But at the time I didn't like the song as much yet, so we couldn't include it in the album. We put it on the tracklist now after making changes and fixing it a bit. It was my first time writing a song for our members, so I felt like I will regret releasing it, if I'm not completely satisfied with it. So I didn't want to release it until I got to the point "this is it". That's why it took longer. 

Did you ask your members for advice?

HW: I often let them listen to the song. Rather than just appearing in front of them with "ta-dah!" I wanted to get a lot of feedback from them first, since it's a song we were all gonna sing together. I looked for advice from IM and Joohoney a lot because they also write songs. As for Minhyuk, Shownu and Kihyun, I asked them to give me feedback from a singer's point of view. 

It must have felt fresh including your song, that all the members sang, in the album.

HW: I thought about which member will sing which part since the very beginning. Sure enough, they really pulled it off as they started singing. So I was even more satisfied. 

Do you feel like the song was completed according to the plan you had in mind from the beginning?

HW: Of course. I'm satisfied. I have no regrets because they expressed the song just as I imagined it. 

In the past interview you said you compose in your free time. When you listen to a song do you focus more on the melody and genre than on the lyrics?  

HW: Everything is important. No matter how good the melody is, if the lyrics are bad, there's no charm. Same if it's the opposite. That's why I kept modifying both the lyrics and the melody. But if I have to choose one, I concentrate on the melody just a little bit more. 

It's interesting how you chose perfume as main subject of your song. 

HW: It's easier to write a song if there's a certain topic. If you just try writing it without it, it's like beating your head against the wall. It was hard lyrics-wise too. While thinking how to start, this perfume characteristic popped up in my mind. I thought about the feelings I get when I meet someone and how I treat them. After choosing this as my topic, I explained my feelings to IM. He took my explanation and wrote a well-fitting rap out of it. I was so thankful. If it wasn't for IM's rap, I think my feelings wouldn't have been conveyed perfectly and I probably wouldn't  be this satisfied. As for the rap part, it felt complete right away. 

You must have felt proud when the subject suddenly popped up in your mind.

HW: 'Ah, this is it' was my first thought. Haha. For example, I'm sitting on a chair for 5 hours straight trying to plan out a song. After the subject pops up, it's a smooth ride, it's easier to collect my thoughts and time passes by quickly too. There's this feeling of joy when it starts going smoothly and all of a sudden those 5 hours of just sitting down, waiting for THE moment, are worth it. 

Do you think you and the members have improved in anything with the release of 3rd full album?

HW: Yes, and I feel more attached to this album since I wrote one of the songs by myself. Our members' opinions are reflected in the album a lot, so I feel thankful for that too. It's the reason I feel proud and really confident about this album. This is where I feel we've made improvements. 

Your MBTI(Myers-Briggs Type Indicator) is INFP. This type's characteristics are a passionate mediator, introvert and a romantic (person) with strong beliefs. Does that apply to you?

HW: I think it's right. I'm INFP's prototype. Haha. I got goosebumps, really. If you look at INFP examples' tendencies, it all sounds like me. I can really relate to it. 

Do you have your own belief? 

HW: I have my own line. If only you don't cross it, I can understand and forgive anything. But if you go over the line, it's really hard for me to tolerate it. There are parts others might not understand because I have my own criteria (laugh). Of course, I'm trying to find some sort of middle ground now. 

There are different types of MBTI in Monsta X. After spending time together you naturally become similar and it's probably easier to understand each other. 

HW: That's right. Each member has their own characteristics and after living together you start to resemble one another. I'm a total opposite of Minhyuk and Joohoney, especially with Minhyuk, but we have been together for so long that I came to understand him. I think Minhyuk would say the same, we naturally compromise as we go. 

You release self-composed songs and do tons of photo shoots, I feel like you're constantly building up your capabilities. Are there any activities in the entertainment industry that you haven't tried yet but you want to?

HW: I want to continue writing songs and DJ. I'm more greedy about work than you would've thought. Haha. I really want to go to <A Fisherman and the City> on Channel A. I went fishing a couple of times before and had so much fun, it was a healing time for me. Time passed so fast, I came back after looking at the bait for 10 hours straight. Oh, and one time my fishing rod broke and when people near me saw me fishing, they cheered me on and gave me advice too. The whole situation of them cheering me on reminded me of world cup so I really liked it. Because of this memory I want to go fishing again. 

You got picked as the team's visual by Monsta X members and by monbebe. Do you have a specific routine to take care of your appearance?

HW: I didn't really have a routine in the past but I recently realized I have to do something, so I started working out. I followed IM's steps and started working out and people around me already tell me I look healthier. (How long has it been since you started?) It has only been around a month. Haha. I'll try to do it consistently. My goal is not to build muscles, but to try doing it for my health. I need to be healthy to dance and sing for a long time. I'm most thankful to IM. I was able to bravely start working out because he was sincerely concerned for my health and cheered me on. 

Monsta X established a strong position in music industry as beast idols, but what kind of artist do you personally want to become? 

HW: As I've been saying for this whole year, of course it's also important to be successful, to get the best results everywhere, but I want to become a singer, who can see his fans for a long time. I want to release music consistently too. But, more than solo, I want to promote with my team for a long time. 

As years in this industry pile up you probably think and worry about the future more and more. 

HW: I rather get these thoughts and our members probably think the same. We're all passionate and greedy when it comes to music, but as you know, our society nowadays is centered around results. Everything we do is recorded somewhere. There are times we get discouraged and we almost lose our enthusiasm, but Monsta X members overcome situations like that and start working harder. And as time passes we realize it was actually not a big deal for us. I feel like I can't even take good care of all the people who love me now. Of course, I'd be more thankful if we received more love. 

Is there a goal you want to accomplish within next year?

HW: I really want to hold a concert. We also want to go on a tour with members. We released a lot of new songs and we're ready to perform them. So we feel kinda regretful, our lastest release 'Love Killa' is one of the stages we wanted to show our fans live, they would've loved and enjoyed it. I hope to stand in front of an audience again, because our team synergy gets better when we have people watch our stage live. 

I heard you're an expert on acrostic poems, would it be possible to get one for @star1(앳스타일)? 

HW: (앳): @star1 is really nice

(스): I feel like I became a star

(타): Invite the rest of the members too

(일): They are friends, who really like working. Haha.

atstar1magazine | Scan Reference Translation KR-ENG: Monsta X Europe

#translation #t:interview #t:magazine #pm:shownu #shownu #t:article

[this-lioness]

Another bullshit update on life in general

Work has kept me busy, and I’ve been trying to get more done creatively and around the house, as well.

This was the first weekend in awhile I didn’t do any (or much) meal prep, since we had enough in the freezer to last us for all the dinners this week, and even a few lunches for Marc.  I made a dozen eggs, cut up and roasted almost 5 lbs of potatoes, and called it a day.

I cancelled the physical therapist, because between work, gym, housekeeping and trying to do something other than being a machine I did not have time for an additional two rounds of exercises every single day.  We were getting up at 5 AM, leaving for work at 6:30 AM, leaving work for home at 5 PM, getting home from the gym around 7, then eating for a half hour.  It was not going to happen.

We ended up cancelling the gym membership, because -- as much as we want to go -- we are just too tired and hungry after an hour-long commute to be like, “Yay, let’s do something tedious and exhausting for a half hour!”

The long term goal was to cancel the membership anyway, however.  I told Marc I want us to concentrate on finishing the sheetrock in the former “cat room” this coming weekend so that we actually use it for its intended purpose, which was exercise.  I have that barre I bought last year that I haven’t had time or room to use even once, and the treadmill and hand weights is just sitting and collecting dust.  So anyway, that’s the plan for next weekend.

We will also be fostering two cats in the next couple weeks, and trying to find them a home.  Long story short we met an artist at one of the galleries downtown, very nice guy, and his friend or nephew or I forget has recently knocked up his girlfriend and decided, “Well, we need to move and get rid of the cats I guess!”

So they’re two year-old sisters, and he wants them to stay together, which is fine.  Like Rosie, they actually look very young, like maybe only 5 months old.  They have never been to the vet in their life, so no shots, and neither of them are fixed, which means it will be on us to take care of all that before they get adopted out.  I’m sure he’s going to be a great Dad [/sarcasm].

When Marc found out that the cats needed a full vet workup, including spay, he was initially resistant due to the cost.  I said okay, if you’re not comfortable with it you’re not comfortable with it, and went upstairs to investigate our options.  The Walmart just opened up a “Vet IQ” clinic that does basic veterinary care, and we can utilize a local spay clinic for about $50 per cat, so on that end alone we’d be shelling out less than $300 (there’s always food and litter, of course).

After awhile Marc came up and was like, “I think I was a little hasty, I’m sure we can make it work.” After I told him the anticipated costs he was much more into it, so that’s good.  Hopefully we won’t have any trouble finding a home for them.

Rosie is doing well at feeding time in her crate!  It has not stopped her from being an absolute maniac spaz about food, but there is almost no growling at all while she eats now.  She goes in her crate, Marc covers it up with a towel, and she eats with seemingly less hysterical anxiety.  I’ll call it a tentative win.

Rosie, by the way, loves Bones. Bones can usually take her or leave her, although his tolerance level is much higher when she’s not acting the spaz, although you see moments of affection for her as well.  She greets him with a nice long body rub when they cross paths, and yesterday Marc caught him grooming her head.  It does my heart good.

At the risk of jinxing myself, I’ve been doing much better at bowling for the past few weeks!  I did decently at league on Friday, and when we went for our Sunday practice I had a series of something like 145, 106 and 140.  Considering I was lucky to break 100 a couple months ago I’m feeling very encouraged.

What has worked for me, honestly, is throwing out a lot of convention wisdom.  Marc has always been very patient with me, explaining game theory and approach and all that, but no matter how much I tried to put it all together it just wasn’t working.  And I was really, really trying.

Then, a few weeks ago, I was chatting with someone about Dyscalculia, and did a bit more casual reading about it.  I was reminded that it often causes issues with spatial awareness, something I can absolutely vouch for (I actually suspect it’s part of what’s caused me to have such persistent problems with perspective and anatomy over the years, although that’s a discussion for another time.)

So I started keeping that in mind when we play: I used the techniques that I knew were helpful, but in any aspect where I was supposed to do one thing, but consistently got unexpected and problematic results, I tried to go more by “feel”.

It’s hard to explain why this works, but it has so far.  Basically, I had to throw out the notion of bowling at “angles”, and became more of a straight-shooter, keeping in mind that my ball does have a tendency to hook left.  I got something like 3 or 4 strikes in one game on Friday!

Which is not to say that I’m suddenly a good bowler, because I’m not, but I’m better, which is what I wanted.  What’s annoying is when (admittedly well-meaning) people are like, “Here’s what you’re doing wrong!” and try to teach me about techniques which I already know, but which just don’t work for me.

This happened two weeks ago I think, and I’m sure the lady meant well, but she also was ignoring me when I said multiple fucking times, “I understand, but I have spatial awareness problems, that doesn’t work for me.”

Like, repeating something at me over and over is not going to make it any more true.  I hear what you’re saying, you’re just wrong.

So in other news I finished two more of the Mori Girl Cats, and that dumb little werewolf thing that was strictly for my own amusement.  (Someone was like, “That would make a great t-shirt,” and haha, I’m not fucking falling for that one again.)  I also organized the office / computer area of the Geek Room, we stashed away the last of the convention stuff, and it feels much more clean and open and neat.  A place I actually want to hang out, and not anxiously work while avoiding the pile of shit sitting behind me!

Last night I also installed Sims 3 and treated myself to a handful of expansion and “stuff” packs.  I only had enough time to create one Sim last night, but I already look forward to giving him a cold.

…*cough*...

Unrelated, but I meant to talk about something that happened last Wednesday, when I was out running my Mom around to her appointments and whatnot.

So… for anyone who didn’t follow me on Facebook or my old Tumblr, the short version is that my Mom and I have a very long and complicated history. She was not a very good mother, she is a textbook covert narcissist.  She was an alcoholic for many, many years which caused serious and life-altering problems for me as a teenager and young adult, and after she got sober she transitioned to a prescription drug addiction which further deteriorated our already tenuous and fraught relationship, and landed both her and my stepfather in financial ruin.

About a year and a half ago, to help save them from the road to homelessness, we helped them sell their old house and moved them to Bucks County to live about 10 minutes from us, in a mobile home park.  We helped them get it fixed up, we help with maintenance, running errands, etc.  It’s a very cute little house, and although it took some time I think they see that now, and that their lives are better off.

When they first moved up here my mother was still on prescription drugs, but she very quickly found that it was impossible to find a new doctor to continue prescribing her the same pharmaceutical cocktails she wanted.  And boy did she fucking try. She’s already changed doctors at least three or four times since moving here, whipping out her favorite refrain of “I don’t think this doctor knows what they’re talking about!” every time they’re like, “Yeah, you don’t need to be on a steady stream of opiates.”

Eventually the lack of drugs caught up with her, the withdrawal passed, and for the past year or so she and I have actually gotten along okay.  She is still, and always will be, a difficult person, and I worry about whether or not she’ll find a doctor to start filling prescriptions again, but until then things are… okayish.

Anyway, that’s the long back story.

Back when they were still living at their old house, Marc and I would periodically go to visit them.  My Mom was always drugged out of her gourd, so I fucking hated going, but I had to do my duty, and she made every excuse imagineable for why she couldn’t come visit us.  So once a month we’d pack up, trek over to her house, order take-out, hang out for a while, then go back home again.

Except my Mother would do this thing where, after the food arrived, she would put the plates out, and then she would continue to gather plates and reorganize the kitchen while everyone was sitting down, serving themselves and eating.  

Like, the food would be on the table, we’d all be halfway through our meals and well on our way to being done, and my Mom would still be in the kitchen sorting around in the drawers for a mystery spoon or bowl that she needed, then finding it, washing it out, drying it, realizing it was the wrong one, putting it away, etc.

Eventually she would come out while everyone else was finishing up, serve herself a tablespoon of food, eat half, and then talk about how full she was.

For a while we would be like, “Mom… everyone is eating. We have everything we need. We literally don’t need anything else. Just come in and eat,” and she would ignore us.  Eventually I just stopped caring, and let her do her thing while the rest of us ate.  The sooner we finished the sooner we could leave.

I don’t know how else to describe her behavior apart from manic.  Like, when it was time to order, if I asked her for a menu, she would bring me the menu, and for fifteen minutes after I had called to place the order she would still be rooting through the drawers looking for more / other menus.  She would get herself so worked up that sometimes while we were sitting downstairs hanging out she’d have to go up and be sick.

All this just to give you a sense of what she used to be like.

Anyway.  I’m driving her home from an appointment on Wednesday, and she’s commenting how all of us just naturally turn into their mothers as we get older, even though we don’t want to.  In that I stayed dead silent through this observation I think she recognized that I disagreed.  So then she moved on to how different some daughters are from their mothers, especially in the kitchen.

And she said to me, “Like when I cook, I have to clean as I go along, I can’t just put everything in the sink until later.  Remember when you used to come over to eat, and you’d say to me, ‘Mom, come and eat, the food is ready!’ and I’d be so busy cleaning up that I wouldn’t even realize!”

And I’m like, “....”

Because that’s not what happened.  That’s not even fucking remotely what happened.  So she has spun the reality where she is an out-of-control manic drug addict and spun it into a funny story about how she’s such a neat freak that she doesn’t realize it’s time to eat.

I was sorely tempted to correct her, but at the last second realized it wouldn’t make a difference either way.  She is never going to look back on her behavior with any kind of clarity, and trying to force her to do so would just make the day end on a sour note.  If she wants to live in delusion, that’s on her.  I can tolerate it, but I’m certainly not going to feed into it by saying something like, “Yes, that’s precisely how it happened.”

She’ll have to learn to interpret the silence on her own.

Anyway, I guess that’s it.  Greatly looking forward to getting home and having a nice night on the couch, or maybe playing Sims some more.  I may even make some tea.

I hope all of you are doing well <3

[askiisoft]

FAN ART FRIDAY: ALL THE WARRIORS, Part 1

As a child, half the thrill of buying a new doll or action figure was the packaging: the glossy, overblown artwork and detailed descriptions of the character’s escapades and statistics. Knowing my plastic toy once attended West Point and kept a pet chihuahua really enhanced my immersion during playtime, which is why it’s strange that many fan artists are still embarrassed to create OCs (original characters).

This week, we dig deep into the ranks of fan-created Alpha, Beta, and Gamma NULLs that gave their lives for the canon or continue to eke out existence in the post-war era of Katana ZERO. This will be a multi-week event, so there’s still time to think up your very own!

[WARNING: The work herein is based on fan creations, and should not be considered canon.]

Gamma 996 by @Zebralineku

For Gamma 996, the Cromag War was a mixed blessing. While it robbed him of a childhood and his right arm, it also introduced him to his nakama Subject 404, who in turn pushed him to achieve great strength to mamoru those he loved. The layers of his mysterious past are the perfect setup for a shonen manga: until it’s revealed exactly how he lost his arm, the origin of his oversized iron bludgeon, and his past with Subject 404, he possesses insurmountable plot armor that make him impossible to kill. Bounty hunters, be warned!

Pictured: 996, prior to meeting Subject 404. By @Zebralineku

For me, the most intriguing part of 996 would be his gameplay possibilities. Anyone who’s unlocked the Claymore Prototype can already imagine his glacial swings, but the addition of a prosthetic arm could add anything from a grappling claw, rocket punch, bullet deflector, or even a short-range teleport that could defy him being typecast as the ‘slow bulky tank’ archetype.

—

Subject 404, “Abysser” by @IERotAK

(pixel sprite by @IERotAK)

I’ve been told that weapons like nunchaku or meteor hammers are as dangerous to their wielders as any enemy. That must be doubly so for Subject 404′s bladed gloves, judging by the scars and bandages criss-crossing both his past and present selves. 

Even by the standards of adolescent NULL, Abysser exhibited the most drastic physical growth following discharge, going from a shy, willowy waif weaving his way through combat to a stocky gearhead who might actually fit the olive fatigues he’d been issued so long ago. Whether this was simply the result of puberty or desire to liberate himself from his over-protective aniki Gamma 996, perhaps not even he knows. The only accessory that’s remained constant since his service days his is inverted crucifix pendant, a mysterious item that matches an identical mark on 996′s upper back. Its significance is unknown.

Pictured: Back profile of Gamma 996. Translation, “It doesn’t hurt.” By @Zebralineku.

—

Alpha 19 by @rokutopo

In an era where being NULL means living with a target on your back, Alpha 19 alone seems to invite scrutiny with his loud green hair and flagrant gun-running operations. Given his extensive marksman training and beloved sniper rifle, Kamina’s rationale appears to be attacking from such extreme ranges his hairdo hardly matters. 

The only thing that seems to match his obsession with ill-gotten firearms is an affinity for canines. Use this to your advantage.

—

Gamma 233, “Laughter” by @dai_sang

Among every several hundred NULL candidates—whether orphaned or torn from their parents’ arms—was a child meant for the life, for whom the then-nascent NULL project merely brought out their true selves. The correlation between Gamma NULL and psychotic tendencies remains disputed, but Laughter, a.k.a. Gamma 233, makes a compelling case for it. 

Like so many other Gamma subjects, his insatiable need for steady doses of Chronos drove him to the underworld, but he alone enjoys wetwork just as much as before. While his childlike features are certainly useful for stealth, I suspect he would become violently angry if any of his handlers pointed it out.

—

Alpha 14 by @spiderbirdo​

Alas, Alpha 14, we hardly knew ye. Most veterans of the Cromag conflict avoid speaking of it, but in 14′s case, she was rendered mute before she ever had the chance. What kind of accident—or assailant—could maim a NULL like that will remain a mystery. 

—

Beta 3, “Cobra” by @kptkaboom

As cool as “Cobra” sounds, a more fitting callsign for Beta 3 would have been “Dishrag”, given his ultimate fate. Three chose to work closer with machines rather than continue plying his trade as a killer, though like many other NULL he kept an aspect of his uniform (in his case, goggles) in his civilian garb, a curious trend that suggests residual attachment to the only semblance of belonging he ever knew. 

Typically, panic attacks and stress from loud noises is attributed to combat PTSD, but in Three’s case, he might have known his days were numbered. Like Chronos, paranoia can be a drug.

—

Beta 11, “Eleven” by @55_yamisan

Yami-san’s ballad of Beta 11′s past is brief and tragic. Compared to many of her gung-ho brethren, the young Eleven is practically ordinary, lacking any of the outlandish weapons, physical deformities, or eccentricities that defined wartime NULL. Maybe she followed some orders she disagreed with, but it kept her alive and her soul mostly intact.

While so many ex-NULL represent punk-rock caricatures of ‘science gone wrong’, Eleven seems the epitome of a noir detective or retired gunfighter: a hardened yet troubled war vet, disaffected with civilian life and resigned to quiet fatalism while secretly hoping for a chance at a meaningful death. 

By @55_yamisan

—

Alpha 26, “Pomidor” by @siba_ichi

While Gamma NULL were known to operate in pairs, their lesser Alpha siblings could often be spotted alone—either because they preferred working solo, or because no one would possibly survive a mission with them. I get the latter impression from Pomidor, a.k.a. Alpha 26, whose wide-eyed stare, oafish pose, and childish battlecry of “tomato!” are more unsettling than endearing. 

Every detail of Pomidor′s design exudes unhinged cuteness. Whereas a katana communicates precision and elegance, 26′s hatchet suggests brutality, bloodlust, and dangerous simplicity. His post-war self retains all this, but adds an air of self-awareness through his facial scar, slight swagger, and monochrome outfit, replete with a baggy executioner’s hood. Whoever he’s become, 26 chooses his own targets now.

—

And thus concludes Part 1 of this multi-part Katana ZERO OC event!

Click here for Part 2 and possibly even more, depending on turnout. Thanks immensely to every single artist who’s submitted their characters so far, and please don’t be cross if yours didn’t make it into this week’s entry! 

For anyone still interested in submitting a future OC, please use this template and send me an un-compressed PNG of your pixel sprite, too!

[ammapreker]

CELIA ST. CLEMENT 19 / theater actress

[ content warning for alcoholism ]

an inescapable need for more ∘ blurry memories ∘ waking up inexplicably bruised ∘ forgetting yesterday ∘ tangled limbs ∘ stage lights spilling across an empty stage ∘ crumbling flower petals ∘ shakespeare’s words caressing careful tongues ∘ empty wine bottles rolling against hardwood floors » a dramatic creature with a mercurial temperament / some days, her jovial moods can conjure only the bright beam she makes herself into; others, the shadows hang closer, shrouding her in darkness / her sister’s mirror image, only just noticing the spidery cracks crawling through the glass / widely considered the dark shadow to clara’s gleaming light, but perhaps it was always the other way around (or, better yet, maybe neither of them could ever have made a claim at innocence) / drowns her traumas in alcohol even before scarlet floods her palms, a symbol of her guilt that can’t be washed away / sobs harden in her throat, echoes of how could we have— silenced roughly before she speaks the final words, makes them real / life, she begins to believe, woozy with alcohol and drugs as her feet drag across a stage, has lost all sense of reality / regret seeps into her bones, flooding her senses until only two artifacts of her former life remain: the flask hidden within her pockets and the lie that keeps them safe—for now.

connections » clara st. clement [twin sister] / shiloh spencer [co-actor]

needs » the rest of the murder crew / theater actors for the shakespeare festival / former (and/or current) lovers / drinking buddies

DAWSON HUGO 35 / songwriter

piano notes spilling from a dark room ∘ whispered temptations ∘ subtle humor ∘ hidden desires ∘ script-filled notebooks ∘ creeping loneliness ∘ a toe stepped carefully over the line ∘ secrets locked behind sealed lips ∘ slipping into the darkening night » a lesson on monetizing the thoughts swirling in his mind, the temptations beating in his heart / a man who came from just above nothing and now has everything he’s ever wanted—or does he? / a former keyboardist in a band that never made it who’s risen on the back of his own penned verses / doesn’t feel pity for the bandmates whose lives he once knew as well as his own, rarely seeing them after their fall / he knows he’s gifted, talented, creative—perhaps too well / even so, he feels safer in the shadows—unremembered by crowds, sought by artists wishing to give voice to his scrawls / a dreamer who plucked his dreams and thrust them into reality before finding they’d lost their glimmer / unsatisfied, and reconciled with it (or so he thinks) / jumps from girl to girl and song to song so often, throwing himself into each before his interest wanes / finds a girl for keeps, or so he thinks until another comes his way / pleas of just this once slowly burning away every line he’s never crossed / he steps, and steps, and steps (he thought he was better than this) / he’s drunk on a girl he shouldn’t be, losing himself to the toxicity / addiction’s never felt so sweet.

connections » birdie barnes [roommate & songwriting partner] / daisy howard [girlfriend]

needs » his former bandmates who may or may not hate him for ending up with a songwriting deal even after they crashed and burned (he was the keyboardist) / a brother who never quite got over living in his shadow / exes he’s fooled around with and inevitably left due to prolonged disinterest / friends in the record industry / friends in general / singers he might have worked with in the past

FRANCESCA MANCINI 21 / croupier

[ content warning for murder, hit & run ]

a bookcase filled with whodunnits ∘ expired contacts littering the trash can ∘ waking to an early dawn ∘ fervent “i told you so”’s ∘ a tendency to over-prepare ∘ stepford smiles finally loosening their grip ∘ a desperation for salvation ∘ crippling paranoia ∘ a sudden recklessness ∘ too smart for your own good » the clever girl gone sour, gone cold, gone fearful / once, she might have convinced herself that the bright future she saw before her could remain as it was—true, pure, incapable of being tarnished by any deed she might commit / (she hadn’t known, then, what she’d be capable of) / one moment, they’d been light as air, flooded with victory; the next, a crash had left them plummeting to the ground with no safety net / they keep the secret, cover their tracks—they know how, after all / she thinks, then, of all the crimes she’s witnessed, solved; what would i have done, she’d wondered, to not get caught / perhaps she’d always known that she’d find herself on the opposing side, another criminal aching to bury her secrets / they don’t bury them deep enough; i know what you did, the letters say, promising retribution with words unspoken / all she can think: what will i do to not get caught. 

connections » ludovica mancini [sister] / audrey astor, luna graves & the rest of mystery inc. [best friends]

needs » scooby doo-inspired request / co-workers for the illegal gambling den she’s currently working undercover at (with plans to expose them) to feel less guilty / exes galore / friends outside of the scooby gang who she’s likely distanced herself from as a result of what happened / literally anything, she’s completely open!

LIAM HANLON 31 / paralegal

[ content warning for death ]

newspaper pages tossed aside in a flurry ∘ clenched jaws ∘ pulsing migraines ∘ eyes glued to a phone screen ∘ a life passing by, unnoticed ∘ grasping to self-assurance as the world collapses into ruins ∘ burnt coffee ∘ time ticking endlessly away on a watch face ∘ brisk strides ∘ this cannot go on » a man consumed with a future that’s not his own / wants and dreams glisten upon the ladder he’s thrust himself upon, certain that the top will provide everything he wants—a name, a position, a surge of support swelling beneath him as he makes his own political strides / if he ever reaches the top; if he ever manages to pull himself from the outskirts of history into its center / currently a paralegal with dreams of a brighter future that’ll never come to fruition / driving himself mad with impatience and jealousy / stares at the ring on his fiancée’s hand and wonders if it would be better to leave, better to break up the monotony with a complete abandonment of his current life / the death of her sister dismantles any actions he might have taken; their inheritance of a two year old with only an aunt left to claim her submits them to mere fantasies never to be made real / the pressure mounts—the baby’s cries, zara’s grief, his mother’s new book—until the cracks begin to show / it’s only a matter of time before he breaks.

connections » zara şensoy [fiancée]

needs » siblings who are equally f*cked up with a mother whose parenting books delved a little too deeply into their childhoods / exes galore / friends. he’s a lot but he needs them / especially friends with children because he somehow has a baby now???

ROSCOE RYAN 21 / student

unquenchable curiosity ∘ obedient tongues ∘ 20/20 peripheral vision ∘ whispers quieting after stepping foot into a room ∘ a diary full of words unspoken ∘ burying a past with dulcet lies ∘ unrelenting pride ∘ a villain casting himself in the role of the observer, nothing more ∘ imminent betrayal » a boy born to trailer parks and unappeasable parents no, let’s rewrite the story, shall we? / a boy born beneath the glistening stars of los angeles (true) with parents unaffected by his presence (true) and consumed by the monotony of their daily lives (true) as heirs to a fortune passed down from his grandfather (lie) / the moment he steps within the bounded gates of ucla, he reinvents himself, sprinkling importance and wealth into a past bereft of both / the collections of photographs that hang upon his walls impress upon the viewer two facts / the first: the frat he’s grown in, thrived in, means everything to him / the second: his life, as he’d prefer it, began three years prior with his steps upon the college lawns / perfection blooms in every scene, every pose, even as whispers threaten to tarnish the gilded legacy he’s built / did you hear? the students gasp amongst each other, their gazes sliding across every boy decked in the letters of sigma chi / the rumors—hazing, terror, oh my god, is he—spread like wildfire / still, the kid won’t speak / still, guilt hovers above them all, awaiting a place to rest.

connections » pierce griffin [fraternity brother] / bambi wheeler [former friend & neighbor]

needs » frat boy crew (request to come!) / miscellaneous hook ups / old trailer park acquaintances he’ll pretend not to know / someone to tell him his frat almost put the blame on him for the hazing incident

SILAS GRAVES 24 / vampire bartender

last night’s glitter clinging to your skin ∘ hollow laughter ∘ cheshire grins ∘ jumping into pools fully clothed ∘ fake blood recipes ∘ coffins are rather comfy, you know ∘ locking memories away ∘ empty wine bottles cluttered around sinks ∘ gathering fog ∘ dark streets slick with rain ∘ sink your teeth in » a boy who glorifies in bringing the traits of the undead into the land of the living / is it all real, or just an act? that’s a secret sealed behind reddened lips, one he’ll take to his grave / you can only guess as rants regarding edward cullen spill between the would-be vampire and his audience, compelled—by curiosity, by magic, who can say?—to listen the dulcet tones of his voice uninhibited by the fangs curling around his teeth / believes himself untouchable, untethered—free / still, his past clings to him, pulling him backwards at every turn even as he crushes the memories that seek to undo him / he’s nothing more than this—a glitter-clad man longing to be a monster known from fables / untouchable, untethered to the reality that everyone else finds themselves bound to / that, there, is true freedom. 

connections » oskar björk [employer] / fleur zhao [being catfished by her]

needs » additional coworkers for the horror bar / exes, currents (flings and flirts) / people for him to argue with about the merits of edward cullen’s popularity amongst vampires / more people for the adoptive graves fam / friends who either embrace or ignore his weirdnesses / literally anything else

SPENCER LINDSAY 23 / con artist

ghosting™ ∘ sharp stilettos clacking on a subway car ∘ longing for a stranger’s touch ∘ swollen lips ∘ empty houses ∘ discarded half-smoked cigarettes ∘ strawberry milkshakes ∘ silent screams ∘ hope lingering just out of reach ∘ a crunch of glass underfoot ∘ never look back » a ghost, haunting the remnants of her former life / past spencer lindsay: beautiful, popular, a bright future gleaming in her eager palms / current spencer lindsay: beautiful, nameless, stolen money and jewelry sparkling against the bright gleam of a street lamp / the division: a fortune nearly lost, a mother’s desperate act, a stepfather’s final breath / her father’s fraud charges and subsequent rush out of the us barely merited a recollection outside her social circle; her mother’s murder trial, however, summoned the attention of los angeles and it held her captive / her mother loses; she disappears in the night—door left open, a broken wine glass scattered in pieces on the living room floor, a closet full of clothes she couldn’t carry with her / no investigation can cease the steady stream of rumors even now—dead, killed, gone / she waits in the wings, knowing she should never have come back, unable to keep herself away.

connections » nicholas hawthorne [ex-boyfriend] / benji wyatt [ex-boyfriend] / chloe valentine [con besties] / willa de witte [former best friend]

needs » the o.c. crew (request coming shortly) / people to steal from / the bling ring crew (request to come!) / exes from her high school days / people to hook up with while she pines away / people she f*cked over back in the day / people she’s f*cking over now / someone who knows her by one of her other aliases and who she may or may not have stolen from (oops) / people who/whose families her dad stole from back in the day who might be holding a grudge

TRISTAN BENNET 22 / runaway

crooked smiles ∘ unspoken desperation ∘ dreams warring against doubt ∘ ripping away old skins ∘ the growing ease of a lie ∘ worn sneakers ∘ festering distrust ∘ crumpled bills stuffed into pockets ∘ rush of adrenaline ∘ being watched ∘ shoes pounding against asphalt » formerly a texas boy, he’s since shed his accent, his history, his very own name—the only truth he’s maintained is his sister / they stole away in the night on the eve of the wedding their parents had forced upon her, giving up their lives as they knew them for a chance at freedom / freedom is: devouring every matt damon and ben affleck movie they can get their hands on, learning the twists of the boston accents they’ve affected; bringing their sister back from the dead as their “connection” to los angeles, forcing their memories of her into the role of hopeful young actress dreaming of the big screen; learning to force smiles upon his lips as nerves eat away at the blessed happiness that had encompassed him upon their escape / it’s terrifying in its splendor, in its ephemerality / he thinks: if they find out. he thinks: they can’t. / spends his nights waking to every footstep outside the motel door and his days jumping at each and every craigslist ad he can get his hands on / the money he’d stolen as a second thought dwindles in his palms and he’s starved for safety, for survival / he thinks: what might i do, for that. 

connections » juliet bennet [sister] / the shakespeare theatre crew [he works part-time backstage]

needs » friends are likely in short supply since he tends to keep himself ~under the radar~, but he should have some anyway / maybe a drug dealer for him to get involved with to make more $$$ / people with some fun craigslist requests for interesting threads / potential make outs now that he’s ~free~ and able to explore his sexuality (he’s a virgin, please be gentle) before he ghosts them

[iamtrashforash]

“Problematic” Fanworks, i.e. Re: Last Reblog

A particularly prolific and highly talented artist-writer duo in the Banana Fish fandom has been getting aggressive messages that toe and occasionally cross the line to harassment, on top of actual hate messages.  The common grievances are that their fanworks often feature “controversial” pairings, e.g. Max/Ash and Foxx/Ash, and are sexually explicit in nature.

@silverquillsideas wrote a lengthy response to an anon ask regarding the matter, which I would highly recommend people to read.  I am mostly interested in the responses to @silverquillsideas post, which I find to echo similar sentiments (or “arguments”) found on Twitter and Tumblr.

[Fiction affects reality.  These fanworks contribute to the normalisation and/or romanticisation of rape, abuse, and pedophilia.  Hence, they are not allowed to exist.]

To “normalise” these things, I argue that the works have to present them in a normalised manner.  However, this is simply not the case.  The fanworks are conscientiously put behind age and NSFW filters (in this case, Privateer) and well-tagged with trigger warnings.  At one point, the artist even made a separate, viewable upon approval account for the more NSFW pieces, so that people who are interested only in the SFW or “sanctioned to be non-problematic” artworks need not be notified of the existence of the “non-sanctioned” artworks.  The experience is highly opt-in, and is by no means normalising.  The multiple filters and warnings highlight the paraphilic, outside-the-norm nature of the artworks.

Personally, I think this normalisation argument is patronising: it underestimates the ability of adults (especially -- let’s be honest here -- female adults) to distinguish between reality and fiction, and between safe, consensual sex and fantasy materials.

[Think about the children!]

This argument is often attached to the normalisation argument.  It is heavily undermined by the presence of the age filters.  Age filters are put up precisely because, in general, younger consumers lack the critical thinking to properly compartmentalise fiction/fantasy from reality.  When you click through an age filter, you are, in effect, declaring that you have the critical thinking and maturity to properly digest whatever awaits beyond.

[Fandom is a safe space!]

And still it remains, as long as we keep up the standards of proper age filters, NSFW filters, and trigger warnings.

[Why would you have these unhealthy fantasies when healthier fantasies exist? What is wrong with you?]

Sometimes, people ship things because they think it looks good.  It appeals to an aesthetic side of them.  Sexual arousal by visual cues is, unsurprisingly, greatly rooted in the aesthetics.  It does not need to go deeper than that.  An anecdote: I am, technically speaking, a Shingeki no Kyojin Eren/Levi shipper. Since I neither read nor watch SnK, for a long, long time, I did not realise Eren’s age and the age gap between the two.  Even after finding out, I could not stop aesthetically liking the ship.  When I ship them, I am not consciously and actively shipping a teenager with a middle-aged man.  I ship them because they appeal to me aesthetically: I like their visuals and the fandom’s depictions of their interactions in doujinshi.  I fancy that, for a lot of people, this compartmentalisation of aesthetics and age of the characters involved happens often.  Some people, however, seem incapable of internalising the idea that other people are capable of this mental separation -- a failure of the imagination.

(A tangent: I mean no harsh judgment on those who fail to separate character age from fantasies, but I think one does have to accept the personal limitations of one’s own tastes.  Personally, I find it hard to separate biology from shipping; hence, A/B/O fanworks are simply Not My Thing.  The common trope of feminising male omega characters tends to make my eye twitch.  But I am not leaving comments of how disturbed I am on A/B/O fanworks for their dissemination of wildly inaccurate biological facts and/or their tendency to reinforce a masculinity-femininity binary in MLM relationships.)

Regarding depictions of rape, assault, abusive relationships, etc., ravishment fantasies are very common; this is a fact.  Sexual arousal, fear, pain, and pleasure are incontrovertibly linked: they all belong to the response pathways of the “primitive brain”, having existed long before our ancestors began developing the cortex of higher thinking.  The arbitrary categorisation of “healthy” and “unhealthy” fantasies means nothing to something as basal as sexual responses.

[Still, these fantasies are disturbing.]

Some of them do disturb me.  However, again, the content creators have done their utmost to make sure the experience is opt-in by nature, with big warning signs attached.  If you think the content will disturb you, please do not engage with it.  Think of it as not buying pickle-flavoured ice cream when you know it won’t be to your taste and/or you are allergic to pickles.  The presence of pickle-flavoured ice cream might weird you out, but you have no obligation to consume it.  In the same way, it is unreasonable for you to demand the ice cream company to withdraw their product because the thought of pickle ice cream disturbs you, or to complain to the convenience store for allowing the pickle ice cream to be stocked on their shelves.  They released the flavour because they believe there is an audience for it out there, and that the release would bring some people delight and/or money.

[I have the right to announce how disturbed I am by these fanworks.]

I agree.  You do not, however, have the right to harass people over them, especially when -- I reiterate -- the creators have made the entire experience highly opt-in.

Also, I implore you to think of the practical consequences of your actions before you decide to send strongly worded messages to content creators:

No real person is harmed in the creation of fanworks.

On the other hand, your strong words may dampen the mood of a real live person who has decided to share their talents with the world.

In consequentialist terms, when you send messages like, “You disgust me,” to a content creator, the net result of your actions is....negative.  In other words, I am asking you, “Aren’t there better things to do with your time?”

[To depict Ash, a sexual abuse survivor, in sexual situations is highly damaging/insensitive/triggerring to CSA survivors.]

I have a very personal, by-no-means objective reaction to this particular extremist view.  Please just skip this entire section if rationality is what you seek.  I will even give you a TL;DR; it reads, “Fuck off.”

I had an entire essay planned on this for my own benefit -- think of it as bloodletting -- but I might as well say it now.  Banana Fish and Ash made me realise that I was the victim of a systematic pedophile, almost twenty years after the fact.  Ash and I had our fateful encounters at roughly the same age, in startlingly similar scenarios.

The realisation came more as a shock than I could ever have expected.  I struggle (note the present tense) with the endowment of the mantle of a victim.  I don’t know why Ash became the final piece to the jigsaw puzzle -- I mean, I had read Lolita cover to cover multiple times -- but I hypothesise that it is because his trauma does not consume most of his identity.  So many stories of abuse survivors are heavily focussed on how their experiences, well, fucked them up, but I -- I was so young that I got out without any visible mental and physical scars; all that is left are grimy fingerprints on a pane of glass, visible only when you breathe on it.  Specific parts of my body are weirdly off-limits in sexual situations, but I managed to ascribe those to “just how my body is” instead of “the parts he touched”.  Stories about trauma are certainly needed, but what my memory needed was representation in the manner of Ash’s.

Reading about Ash exploring his sexuality, especially in a healing manner that I will never experience due to my odd lack of apparent trauma, helped me a lot with coming to terms with the realisation.  I was devastated when an author abandoned an R18 fic of Ash reclaiming his sexuality with the help of Eiji, due to people messaging her with the argument above and claiming to speak for all CSA survivors.  Thankfully, the author returned to finish the fic, but the experience overall had been marred, and the author was clearly uncomfortable with having posted the fic at all.  It feels terrible to know that something that has helped me tremendously is regarded as disturbing by its own creator.

In other words, if you have used the above argument to harass content creators, please stop.

CLOSING REMARKS

I have none.  It is currently 02.30 a.m. in Japan.  Please feel free to comment with your own opinions and experiences; I will try to reply after I get some sleep.  I may edit this piece tomorrow, should my morning self violently disagree with my 02.30 a.m. self. 

[omgktlouchheim]

Word Vomit Wednesday - Romanticizing Rejection

Welcome to Word Vomit Wednesday! A series of blog posts where I attempt to process thoughts and feelings around a specific topic or current events that I, and sometimes the rest of the Internet, ruminate obsessively about. All thoughts/opinions/experiences are my own (unless otherwise indicated); I don’t claim anything that I write to represent anyone other than myself.

Recently, I’ve made some more deliberate efforts to create community and meet people now that I’m more settled and steady in Tucson. This need to venture out and start testing the waters led me to sign up for a three-month virtual community that was being beta-tested by my life-coach. The calls were scheduled to happen once a month for two hours with a max of up to 30 people. They began with an exercise to ground us and any anxieties we might be bringing into the call, a brief ice-breaker to get acquainted with one another, then a specific topic that the majority voted for would be presented, either by my life coach or a volunteer from the group that we would build a conversation around. On the last call that we had in November, the topic was about rejection. Mostly around intimate or romantic relationships, although we also got into the ways we’ve felt rejected by others in often small, subtle ways that resulted in big impacts on our lives. Other than discussing those smaller moments I admit, I was not interested in the topic. I couldn’t quite figure out what was so compelling about rejection.

Then, as I do, I started thinking about it. I read a Refinery29 article that talked about the man who invented “Rejection Therapy,” a game where the aim is to get rejected by others to build resilience to the fear of rejection, and watched a TedTalk where another man who took the game and challenged himself to vlog getting rejected for 100 days and how it changed his life for the better. As I thought, and read, and watched I came to an understanding that underneath the blanket of “rejection” seems to be where the issues actually lie. Fear of putting yourself out there. Not wanting to open yourself up to potentially painful situations. Anxious/avoidant/dysfunctional attachment issues. Asking for help or for something that you want or need. Tapping into your own creativity. Setting a boundary. The rejection itself doesn’t seem to be the actual issue. The underlying issue is showing up in the world fully as yourself and the reality that you may have to make some tough decisions regarding your relationships when certain people are not so accepting. Sometimes the fear of rejection is also about how a rejection is relayed. Humans are notorious for responding to others in a multitude of fucked up ways. Ghosting, public humiliation, abuse, torture, condescension/belittling/minimizing, interrupting, ignoring, attacking, defending, stonewalling, projecting/deflecting, lying… the list goes on and on. Given all of this, I feel like rejection and the ways it can be demonstrated is more telling of the source and is imperative information to have for our own health and well-being.

Pain, in and of itself, is important. Not in the bullshit “no pain no gain” way, but in that it is a part of the human condition in the same way that joy, sadness, excitement and other emotions and sensations are a part of the human condition. When feelings come up for us, they present us with data based on internal and external stimuli and it is our job to interpret that data as accurately as possible to then take any action that may be required of us. We can have a tendency to have difficulty when thinking about our feelings this way because in this society we are essentially conditioned to cut off communication between ourselves and our emotions and other physiological sensations our bodies use to relay important messages to us. It can make it very hard, scary even, to retrain ourselves to listen to ourselves. Instead we choose to ignore feelings when they come up, maybe become annoyed with ourselves when uncomfortable feelings arise, binge eat to try to physically shove discomfort down, shop compulsively because we think something external will quiet or “fix” the internal, and develop a variety of other coping mechanisms because we don’t know what to do with them and probably had never been given the space to safely explore what they could be trying to tell us. When pain gets activated either physically or emotionally, it usually means a major boundary has been crossed, or something is wrong and needs to be checked out right away. When we stub our toe walking into the couch going from one room to the next in our house, we learn to pay more attention to our surroundings and adapt. When we’ve been running around from errand to errand all day and our body begins to ache, we know we’ve reached our limit and need to take a break. And when we come down with some illness and are coughing so hard that it hurts to even breathe, we go to the doctor. Because we feel pain, we are able to take charge and make any number of possible necessary changes to our lives. It can become trickier to know what action to take when our feelings get hurt (because it’s both a physical and  largely internal response), but really the same principles apply. When someone says or does something that hurts your feelings you figure out what nerve that hit and determine if this is a person you keep in your life and to what extent based on your particular boundaries and needs. Easier said than done, I know. 

On the flip side of this, and as the title of this essay indicates, we are not only a society that teaches us to fear pain and any “negative” feelings but we are also one that is OBSESSED with suffering. Everything from our narratives about tragic “starving artists,” the 24-hour news cycle, the internet, the romanticization of drama in our relationships, violence permeates almost every aspect of our culture. There is a huge difference between pain and suffering though. Pain, like I said before, is there to relay a message to us that we then interpret, take action on, and release. Suffering, on the other hand, is something we do to ourselves. We replay old narratives on loops that keep us trapped in emotional purgatory and we take our issues out on others instead of tackling them head on and making difficult but necessary changes in our lives. And sometimes we even allow and cause the suffering of others because we benefit from the exploitation of others. So, it’s entirely possible that it may not even be pain from rejection we’re all trying to avoid, but all pain because we’re already so overloaded with so much pain AND suffering. We are so desensitized to pain in a variety of forms, no wonder our relationship with it is dysfunctional. We may honestly, be too tired to even think about engaging with it. Unfortunately, when we ignore it we allow injustice to flourish and we lose out on so much. Not only do we not see all the choices and opportunities laid out before us, or take risks in relationships, we are so used to fear that we end up rejecting ourselves. Our worlds become so small and we do this to ourselves. And this is the main difference between pain and suffering. Pain releases when we recognize it and take action, suffering is what we do to ourselves by choice even when there are so many other options available to us.  

We will often choose to reject and betray ourselves before stepping into the unknown. I am no stranger to this myself. There have been so many times that I had an inkling to do that thing or talk to that person or allow myself to want something and I never would. I would make up some excuse or other and not give myself a chance. “Well, if they’re interested they’ll say something. I don’t want to bother them.” “That sounds like a really cool job, but I don’t think I’m qualified.” “I’m not going to submit this project for the competition, I probably don’t have a shot at winning.” This year I’ve been recognizing many of the ways in which I reject myself, often so subtly, that I barely even know I’m doing it. Because it’s typically modeled and learned behavior and unless we start doing healing work, rejecting ourselves just seems normal. It takes a lot of work just to hear the whispers: “Don’t go out tonight, everybody sucks so it’s not like you’d meet anyone decent anyway,” “Don’t speak your truth because everyone you care about will abandon you,” “You have to hustle or you’ll never be worthy of success or love.” There are probably millions of examples and they’ll show up differently for different people. Not only do we adopt these behaviors and narratives, we let them drive everything we do because we believe they are part of our identities. It’s a lie. The fact is, you get to decide who you want to be and how you want to show up in the world. It takes practice, work, and a lot of self-discovery. We also face many obstacles and various forms of systemic oppression that are so much larger than any one individual, which can also be another reason why showing up as yourself can feel dangerous. As difficult and scary as it may be, it’s also worth it even if you don’t initially know  how you’re going to do it or where it’s going to take you. 

There’s this game I really like to play on my phone called Flow. It’s kind of like a connect-the-dots puzzle. You have a shape with multiple pairs of dots inside that you have to connect without impeding the other paths of the other connecting dots. What I like most about this game is that once you get one path, the other ones start to become more clear. Flow is all about taking that first step on one path and connecting the dots as you go. The paths are not always linear and straightforward. Sometimes there are twists, sharp-corners and backtracking. But once you start toward something; an idea, goal, etc., worlds you never knew existed start to open up. Toward the end of my studies to get my certificate in audio engineering and production the faculty held a competition for the post-production projects we’d been working on. I hadn’t planned on submitting mine even though I loved it and was really proud of the work I did and how it turned out. The moment I was aware of the competition I heard a whisper that said, “It’s probably not as good as other people’s.” Flash forward: I won first place. After seeing my project, a friend in my class said I should submit it. For whatever reason, I decided to internalize his belief in me and my talent and I went for it. Had I not done that I would have missed out, not only on winning the top prize, but on being asked about my process and being celebrated for something really cool that I did and integrating more self-confidence and the message that I deserve to be in the running for the things I want into my psyche. What I learned from that and other experiences since, is that on the flip side of rejection is courage.

Katie Louchheim would like to wish everyone a very Merry Impeachmas!

[greekstreetart-talks]

Pupet

2019 begins in Greek street art - Talks with the great and very characteristic work of the artist - street artist Pupet. Modest and with great love for what he’s doing, this month we’re talking about his journey, his collaborations and the situation as it has been in the center of Athens, although the words don’t seem to concern him as much as the visuals. With works such as those he creates mainly in abandoned buildings, the new year starts dynamically.

When do you start getting involved with art in the public space and what draws your attention to this direction? If you mean when did I start graffiti, then we go a long way back in 1996. I had seen the first graffiti in Kato Patissia and I was excited, it was an obsession and I definitely wanted to get involved with it. I don’t know exactly why, I just had this feeling, maybe because it was something different or maybe it was the fact that it was mostly illegal... I think though that this period might have been the most intense of my life, many nights out, concerts, graffiti.

Would you say that this helped you in your studies and in deciding what you want to do? Generally since I remember myself I liked to paint. My engagement with graffiti on the one hand kept me somehow in the field of art but on the other it affected my perception of painting as it was closer to the comic’s logic. So I don’t know if it helped me or not, Ι just see it as a natural consequence. It could be something else instead of graffiti, but most likely the ending would be the same.

As a graduate of Athens School of Fine Arts, how much does art vary depending on its application and palette? Regarding whether there’s a difference between a mural or a work on the canvas, I think the philosophy is the same. There are, of course, some differences, such as the size in large frescoes. Materials are also differentiated in some cases. In frescoes I mainly use, except from acrylics, sprays while on canvases not that much. The oils on the canvas are also a completely different material as they dry much more slowly than any other material. My painting, however, with acrylic on canvas is very close if not the same to the frescoes.

Your works in the city aren’t too many, but they are quite characteristic. Which is your favorite spot/s for painting and why? My favorite place is the old Columbia factory in Perissos. I like this place as it is an open space and there’s quiet. If not for something unpredictable to happen, I’m always alone, which is sometimes what I seek for. It's also relatively close to my home. Generally, I like abandoned places which have, over time, the sense of natural decay. I find some nice spots from time to time and I put them in my schedule, like some abandoned ΟSΕ trucks that crossed my way and I hadn’t been able to resist to one of them.

There are areas like Exarchia with infinite visual information. Do you believe that each region, depending on the prevailing vibe, acquires the corresponding frescoes - messages or is it simply because of the freedom and tolerance that exists now in the center of Athens? I wouldn’t call it freedom, maybe there’s a supposed feeling of freedom. Tolerance certainly exists, and because of the whole situation we are experiencing over the past few years, this situation prevails around us. I can’t say that I like the Exarchia landscape, to tell you the truth. Τhere’s infinite visual information but I think that the scenery is a little exaggerated. Certainly, however, some areas are more tolerant in general.

Do you think it would be worth it if the state worked in large urban centers with frescoes on large surfaces? I don’t think that an organization could be created in Greece in an objective way. Unfortunately, in my view, there’s lack of artistic education (and not only). The situation has worsened over the last few years with social media and the tendency for everything to be considered art, so who could organize such a project and which people would it be consisted of? Probably some who wouldn’t have the slightest idea about art or even worse that they’d see it as yet another opportunity to take advantage of the artists. So I think that if it was done in a right and  fair way it would be something interesting and of course welcoming. I doubt it though.

You recently participated in the project “colours in greek islands”. Tell us about it, from the organization to the artwork you produced. I wouldn’t want to talk about the organization. It was a very tiring but interesting project that gave me the opportunity to get to know some places I hadn’t visit and make some frescoes. Regarding the artwork, unfortunately we had some limitations as each island had a specific subject/theme. As for my own frescoes in Agios Efstratios the theme was Yiannis Ritsos who lived there in exile, in Fournoi the shipwreck, as many shipwrecks have been found in the area, in Lipsoi the vineyard and in Leros the goddess Artemis. Each artist had a specific subject. For my part, I tried to do my best as far as that was possible.

Does your job relate with the surroundings where you paint each time, or is there a specific idea that you have concluded to from before and you serve it to the end? The landscape is very important. Regarding my job, I try to keep the same theme, although I don’t always manage it. In general, however, when it comes to the theme, I don’t usually do  something that suits necessarily with the landscape. If the landscape inspires me somehow then I intervene in it.

“Life in color” tell us about this project. It was a project that started about three years ago. We did some frescoes and some canvases in partnership. But for two years now I’ve been working alone and although there are many remarkable artists out there, it seems very difficult to me to work with an artist, perhaps because I think painting is purely personal, like an internal battle for spiritual development whose results are honestly reflected on canvas.

In 10 years from now? Things are doing well in general. I hope they’ll keep doing so and even better. We’ll see how it will end up... For my part, especially in the last few years I give my whole being to what I do and try every time for the best possible result. Now I think I've come up with what I want to do exclusively in the future and that's canvases. I will always like to go out and paint but it's a bit tiring for me and I don’t think there is any reason. I will do it again though. 

Follow Pupet Website \ Instagram \ Fb Page

Photography: Auryn F.

_

Το 2019 ξεκινάει στο Greek street art - Talks με την σπουδαία και πολύ χαρακτηριστική δουλειά του καλλιτέχνη - street artist Pupet. Χαμηλών τόνων και με μεγάλη αγάπη για αυτό που κάνει, αυτόν τον μήνα μιλάμε για την διαδρομή του, τις συνεργασίες του αλλά και την κατάσταση όπως έχει διαμορφωθεί στο κέντρο της Αθήνας αν και οι λέξεις φαίνεται να μην τον απασχολούν τόσο όσο τα εικαστικά. Με έργα σαν αυτά που δημιουργεί κυρίως σε εγκαταλελειμμένα κτήρια η νέα χρονιά ξεκινάει δυναμικά.

Πότε ξεκινάς να ασχολείσαι με την τέχνη στον δημόσιο χώρο και τι σου τραβάει την προσοχή προς αυτή την κατεύθυνση; Αν εννοείς πότε ξεκίνησα να κάνω γκράφφιτι τότε πάμε πολύ πίσω στο 1996. Είχα δει τα πρώτα γκράφφιτι στα Κάτω Πατήσια και είχα ενθουσιαστεί, μου είχε γίνει έμμονη ιδέα και ήθελα οπωσδήποτε να ασχοληθώ με αυτό. Δεν ξέρω γιατί ακριβώς είχα αυτό το συναίσθημα, ίσως επειδή ήταν κάτι το διαφορετικό ή ίσως ήταν το γεγονός ότι ήταν κατά κύριο λόγο παράνομο... Νομίζω πάντως ότι εκείνη η περίοδος ίσως να ήταν η πιο έντονη της ζωής μου, πολλές βόλτες, ξενύχτια, συναυλίες, γκραφφίτι.

Μπορείς να πεις ότι αυτό σε βοήθησε αργότερα στις σπουδές σου και στο να αποφασίσεις με τι θέλεις να ασχοληθείς; Γενικά από τότε που θυμάμαι τον εαυτό μου μου άρεσε να ζωγραφίζω. Η ενασχόληση μου με τα γράφφιτι από τη μία με κράτησε κατά κάποιο τρόπο μέσα στο χώρο της τέχνης αλλά από την άλλη επηρέασε την αντίληψή μου στη ζωγραφική καθώς ήταν πιο κοντά στη λογική των κόμικς. Οπότε δεν ξέρω αν με βοήθησε ή όχι απλά το βλέπω όλο αυτό σαν ένα φυσικό επακόλουθο. Θα μπορούσε αντί για το γκράφφιτι να ήταν κάτι άλλο αλλά πιθανότατα η κατάληξη θα ήταν η ίδια.

Σαν απόφοιτος της καλών τεχνών της Αθήνας πόσο διαφοροποιείται η τέχνη ανάλογα με την εφαρμογή και την παλέτα της; Για το αν υπάρχει διαφοροποίηση ανάμεσα σε κάποια τοιχογραφία ή σε κάποιο έργο στον καμβά, νομίζω ότι η φιλοσοφία είναι η ίδια. Υπάρχουν φυσικά κάποιες διαφορές όπως το μέγεθος στις μεγάλες τοιχογραφίες. Τα υλικά διαφοροποιούνται επίσης σε κάποιες περιπτώσεις. Στις τοιχογραφίες κατά κύριο λόγο εκτός από ακρυλικά χρησιμοποιώ και σπρέι ενώ στους καμβάδες όχι και τόσο. Τα λάδια επίσης στον καμβά είναι ένα τελείως διαφορετικό υλικό λόγω του ότι στεγνώνουν αισθητά πιο αργά από οποιοδήποτε άλλο υλικό. Η ζωγραφική μου πάντως με τα ακρυλικά στον καμβά είναι πολύ κοντά αν όχι ίδια με τις τοιχογραφίες.

Τα έργα σου στην πόλη δεν είναι πολλά ωστόσο είναι αρκετά χαρακτηριστικά. Ποιο είναι το αγαπημένο σου σημείο - σημεία για βάψιμο και γιατί; Το αγαπημένο μου μέρος είναι το παλιό εργοστάσιο της Columbia στον Περισσό. Μου αρέσει το συγκεκριμένο μέρος καθώς είναι ένας ανοιχτός χώρος και υπάρχει ηρεμία. Εκτός απροόπτου είμαι μονίμως μόνος μου, γεγονός που το επιζητώ μερικές φορές. Επίσης είναι σχετικά κοντά στο σπίτι μου. Γενικά μου αρέσουν τα εγκαταλελειμμένα μέρη τα οποία με την πάροδο του χρόνου έχουν υποστεί μια φυσική φθορά. Βρίσκω κατά καιρούς κάποια ωραία σημεία και τα βάζω στο πρόγραμμα όπως πρόσφατα βρέθηκαν στο δρόμο μου κάποια εγκαταλελειμμένα φορτηγά του ΟΣΕ και δεν μπόρεσα να αντισταθώ σε ένα από αυτά.

Υπάρχουν περιοχές όπως τα Εξάρχεια με άπειρη εικαστική πληροφορία. Πιστεύεις ότι κάθε περιοχή ανάλογα με το κλίμα που επικρατεί αποκτά και τις αντίστοιχες τοιχογραφίες - μηνύματα ή απλά είναι η ελευθερία και η ανοχή που υπάρχει πλέον στο κέντρο της Αθήνας; Ελευθερία δεν θα το έλεγα, ίσως υπάρχει μία υποτιθέμενη αίσθηση ελευθερίας. Ανοχή υπάρχει σίγουρα, και λόγω της όλης κατάστασης που βιώνουμε τα τελευταία χρόνια επικρατεί αυτή η κατάσταση που βλέπουμε γύρω μας. Δεν μπορώ να πω ότι μου αρέσει το τοπίο των Εξαρχείων, να σου πω την αλήθεια. Υπάρχει άπειρη εικαστική πληροφορία αλλά νομίζω είναι λίγο υπερβολικό το σκηνικό. Σίγουρα πάντως κάποιες περιοχές είναι πιο ανεκτικές γενικά.

Πιστεύεις ότι θα είχε αξία η πολιτεία να ασχοληθεί οργανωμένα στα μεγάλα αστικά κέντρα με τις τοιχογραφίες σε μεγάλες επιφάνειες; Δε νομίζω ότι στην Ελλάδα μπορεί να δημιουργηθεί ένας φορέας με αντικειμενική σκοπιά. Δυστυχώς, κατά την άποψή μου, υπάρχει έλλειψη καλλιτεχνικής παιδείας (και όχι μόνο). Η κατάσταση έχει χειροτερέψει τα τελευταία χρόνια με όλα αυτά τα social media και την τάση όλα να θεωρούνται τέχνη, οπότε ποιος θα μπορούσε να οργανώσει ένα τέτοιο πρότζεκτ και ποιοι άνθρωποι θα το απάρτιζαν; Μάλλον κάποιοι που δεν θα είχαν την παραμικρή ιδέα από τέχνη ή ακόμα χειρότερα που θα το έβλεπαν σαν μία ακόμη ευκαιρία για να εκμεταλλευτούν τους καλλιτέχνες. Οπότε θεωρώ ότι αν γινόταν με σωστό και δίκαιο τρόπο θα ήταν κάτι το ενδιαφέρον και φυσικά καλοδεχούμενο. Αμφιβάλω βέβαια.

Πρόσφατα συμμετείχες στο πρόγραμμα χρώμα στα νησιά. Μίλησε μας για αυτό, από την οργάνωση μέχρι τα εικαστικά που παρήγαγες. Για την οργάνωση δεν θα ήθελα να μιλήσω. Ήταν ένα πολύ κουραστικό αλλά ενδιαφέρον πρότζεκτ στο οποίο μου δόθηκε η ευκαιρία να γνωρίσω κάποια μέρη που δεν είχα επισκεφτεί, και να κάνω κάποιες τοιχογραφίες. Όσον αφορά το εικαστικό κομμάτι δυστυχώς είχαμε κάποιους περιορισμούς καθώς στο κάθε νησί υπήρχε συγκεκριμένο θέμα. Όσον αφορά τις δικές μου τοιχογραφίες στον Άγιο Ευστράτιο το θέμα ήταν ο Γιάννης Ρίτσος που έζησε εκεί εξόριστος, στους Φούρνους το ναυάγιο καθώς έχουν βρεθεί πάρα πολλά ναυάγια στην περιοχή, στους Λειψούς η αμπελοκαλλιέργεια και στη Λέρο η θεά Άρτεμις. Ο κάθε καλλιτέχνης είχε ένα συγκεκριμένο θέμα για να ασχοληθεί. Από την πλευρά μου προσπάθησα να κάνω ότι καλύτερο μπορούσα στο μέτρο του δυνατού…

Η δουλειά σου σχετίζεται με τον περιβάλλοντα χώρο που βάφεις κάθε φορά ή υπάρχει μια συγκεκριμένη ιδέα που έχεις αποφασίσει και υπηρετείς μέχρι τέλους; To τοπίο είναι πολύ σημαντικό. Όσον αφορά τη δουλειά μου προσπαθώ κατά κύριο λόγο να κρατάω το ίδιο θέμα αν και δεν τα καταφέρνω πάντα. Γενικότερα όμως δεν ασχολούμαι τόσο με το να κάνω κάτι που να ταιριάζει απαραίτητα θεματικά με το τοπίο, απλά αν το τοπίο με εμπνεύσει κατά κάποιο τρόπο τότε επεμβαίνω σε αυτό.

Life in color, μίλησε μας για αυτό το Project. Ηταν ένα πρότζεκτ που ξεκίνησε πριν 3 χρόνια περίπου. Γίνανε κάποιες τοιχογραφίες και κάποιοι καμβάδες συνεταιρικά. Εδώ και 2 χρόνια όμως δουλεύω μόνος μου και πλέον αν και υπάρχουν πολλοί αξιόλογοι καλλιτέχνες εκεί έξω, μου φαίνεται πολύ δύσκολο να συνεργαστώ με κάποιον καλλιτέχνη, ίσως επειδή πιστεύω ότι η ζωγραφική είναι καθαρά προσωπική υπόθεση, σαν μια εσωτερική μάχη για πνευματική εξέλιξη της οποίας τα αποτελέσματα αποτυπώνονται με ειλικρίνεια στον καμβά.

Σε 10 χρόνια από τώρα? Τα πράγματα σε γενικές γραμμές πάνε καλά. Ελπίζω να συνεχίσουν έτσι και ακόμα καλύτερα και θα δούμε που θα καταλήξει... Από την πλευρά μου ειδικά τα τελευταία χρόνια δίνω όλο μου το είναι σε αυτά που κάνω και προσπαθώ κάθε φορά για το καλύτερο δυνατό. Πλέον νομίζω έχω καταλήξει με το τι θέλω να ασχοληθώ αποκλειστικά στο μέλλον και αυτό είναι οι καμβάδες. Πάντα θα μου αρέσει να βγαίνω και να ζωγραφίζω έξω αλλά είναι πλέον λίγο κουραστικό για εμένα και δε νομίζω ότι υπάρχει λόγος. Θα το ξανακάνω πάντως.

[aviationfiction]

XXXIII

Autumn Dupont

Have you ever had someone continuously make your dreams come true, whether big or small?

I don’t pride myself on being a superficial or materialistic girl, especially on someone else’s dime or time, and yet as I sit here basking in this moment, I find myself ogling over the man responsible for making it happen rather than all that is happening around me. Despite the amazing Kim Kimble’s fingers being intertwined with my hair as she pulls it into a specific lowered bun that she assured me I’d look stunning in or the powder brush of celebrity make up artist Keita Moore being stroked over my face, my eyes continued to pan back and forth in an effort to follow Dante’s every move around his apartment even though it was more than obvious that he was doing his best to stay out the way of this entire glam situation happening in the middle of his living room. Though neither one of us showcased natural excitement about this renowned event due to bad nerves and his personal disdain towards those who share his last name, his interest in making sure the preparations for myself were precise took precedence over anything else that was supposed to be planned for this evening. Stacey placed herself in charge of putting together this costly glam squad though I protested against it and of course, he financed it without a single question asked or a concern about the possibility of her going overboard with all of it. If it were up to me, I would have gone to my usual hairstylist in Brooklyn and sat in front of the mirror in his bathroom applying my own make up. She used an excuse of supporting black business by hiring Kim and Keita but I’m a million percent sure their actual celebrity clientele needs their presence far more than I do. Though discomfort filled my core at their acknowledgement of who I am, I’m still a nobody and I damn sure don’t want to be known for who I used to be involved with. The less people who knows about and associates me with that, the better.

“You’re nervous. Why?” She’d been watching my hand and the fist I kept it clench into, to control the faint tremor. As her body relaxed on the couch with her lean legs daintily crossed at the ankles, I glanced at my mother as she calmly flipped through a Harper’s Bazaar magazine while awaiting the hair and make up process to be over. She arrived to Dante’s apartment just as it all began and offered just a bit of her motherly input as she looked on in anticipation of seeing me in the gown I chose for the evening. She refused to miss this though I continued to assure her that it’s not that big of a deal. As soon as the words Zac Posen spilled from my lips, she urgently asked for Dante’s address and gave me a specific time for her arrival. Her prompt nature didn’t fail to meet the time.

“I’m going to walk into a room full of people who I don’t know and that type of thing always makes me nervous. I’m a creature of habit often time, so I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a social butterfly. It’s why I don’t have too many friends in the first place.”

“Oh I know that, but you’ve also never been the type of person to allow that to hold you back from anything. Don’t let it start now. Sure, you’ll be in a room full of people you aren’t familiar with, but you know who you are and that’s the most important aspect of tonight and any other night when you’re in the midst of situations like this. Additionally, you’ll be with the man you love. Sounds like a great time to me either way.” She can make the toughest obstacle challenge sound like the most facile victory if you listen to her long enough. Her confidence has always bordered on being admirable and unbelievable for me. In the midst of my efforts to tuck myself in some corner to be unnoticed and most of all, unbothered, I’d watch her stand in one spot and have damn near a room full of people gravitate towards her in the snap of a finger. Her presence is prominent and yet it never overpowers my father whether he’s near or far. She’s a leader within her own right and yet she still allows him to be lead in just about everything. In all of the years I lived under their roof, I’ve never once heard or witnessed an argument in reference to a power struggle between the two. If anything, they occasionally bickered about which one of them were being too soft on Isaac, Shane, and myself when we tested their limits.

“I plan to have a good time. I always have an amazing time when I’m out with him.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear. Everything went well at the doctors yesterday?”

“Yes. All is well.” Typically, I never enjoy doctor’s visits, even if they’re just routine checkups. The anxiety of bad news eats at me like a flesh eating disease and I wallow in pessimism the entire time. That particular timeframe, my anxiety had absolutely nothing to do with the doctors visit and the usual pelvic examination. My relief also didn’t come after I stepped out of the doors and hopped back inside of Glen’s truck. A negative result in a routine pregnancy test ceased the sweat nipping at my forehead and the butterflies tormenting my belly. In a confusing slip up, I missed my appointment to renew my birth control and a few days of an upset stomach and one morning of vomiting took a toll on my mental space far more than it did on my exhausted body. To soothe my panicking, I summed up my bellyaches to the everyday greed for Thanksgiving leftovers. Black people don’t put a limit on how many days those leftovers are to be eaten. We’ll not only eat it until it’s gone, but we also have a tendency to take whatever is left and create new dishes out of them. I certainly did. After a few days of doing that, I began to have an uneasiness and nausea that I could not shake and finally, coming across the reality of that missed confirmation phone call and appointment, I felt like I wanted to combust. I’ve wondered about motherhood many times, but not as much as I did within those few days. Despite the many conversations we’ve had about kids, the thought of a baby ignited a bit of fear within me because not only do I not have my shit together just yet, but I don’t know what kind of a mother I’ll be. And Dante? Dear God. Given his indifference with his family and the journey he’s getting ready to embark on to exit his position at A&M for a move to the West Coast, I can only imagine how bewildered he would have been if I were to blurt out that I have a gut full of human in the midst of all of it. I don’t think he’s in a place to deal with the pressure he already has weighing on his shoulders, in addition to all that comes with me and finally, a baby. I was relieved when that usual negative result casually slipped out in the nurses run down of my vitals. After we’ve jumped the broom, settled in Malibu, and I’ve finally figured out just what the hell I’m going to do with myself, is when I’ll be comfortable with that test result being the opposite.

“How does that feel? Too tight?” Kim stuck yet another pin into my hair and though it slightly grazed my scalp, the tightness of the bun and the way she chose to pin pieces of it hadn’t reached uncomfortable levels just yet. Anything more than this and I’ll be snatching it out before we even leave the venue tonight.

“It��s feels fine. Do you have to put any more pins in it?”

“Nope. That was the last one I needed. I’m just going to do a bit of holding spray and you’re good to go gorgeous.”

“Thank you.”

“Lauren really wanted to be here, but she’s experiencing that first trimester exhaustion. She just messaged me to remind me to take a ton of photos. Your father sends his love. He’s still in D.C. and feeling crappy because he’s going to miss this moment.”

“It’s a gala. It’s not the prom. You two can be so dramatic sometimes.”

“If it’s up to me, I wouldn’t miss anything that you do, my child.” She flipped yet another page of the magazine and finally came across the Gwyneth Paltrow cover story and just like I suspected, she flipped right on past it. If the magazine were in my hand, I too, would have done the same thing.

“I flip through a lot of these magazines and every once in a while I look at red carpet events because I enjoy great fashion moments, but I must say I don’t think I’ve ever seen any celebrity wife or wife period with a ring as gorgeous as yours.” While stretching my fingers out, my engagement ring came into view. I still stare at it like the rarity that it is. I’ve never seen anything quite like it myself and knowing that he designed every single detail about it makes it all the more special. It’s magnitude is a bonus that makes me bashful and nervous because it’s an attention grabber. I wore it to therapy and it became all that everyone could talk about in the waiting room, from the receptionist to the two awaiting patients and Dr. Jill? I believe we spent more than a half an hour of the session just gushing over it and the details of the proposal. All that’s left for me to do is to get over my fear of wearing it around the company. Before I do that, I have to get over my fear of everyone actually knowing about he and I. Privacy has been beneficial to everything that we’ve built thus far and I’m not sure what we’re going to face if we step outside of the bubble that we’ve been blissfully living in.

“Mom, please.” She has two sets of rings, the originals and the new set given to her on their last wedding anniversary, that are gorgeous and so sentimental in meaning. Dad look her love of Princess Diana and the Titanic film into consideration when heading to Tiffany’s and purchasing a 5.4 carat princess cut diamond ring and it’s matching eternity band. The centered diamond is set between two rich and velvety sapphire stones which makes it a stand out. He presented it to her at the restaurant they had their first date in.

“It is beautiful girl. I can’t even front, it’s all I’ve been looking at while doing your hair.” Kim’s admission turned a snicker into full on laughter because I noticed it as soon as she arrived and began to pull products out of her kit. At least she’s not ashamed to admit it.

“Thank you.”

“Baby, which ones?” Dante’s sock clad feet swiftly marched in my direction and he held up two pairs of shoes in my line of view for my judgement. The ombre effect of black fading into blue and the brogueing details on the shoe in his left hand instantly caught my attention. I was already thrilled with him taking my advice and going with a midnight blue tuxedo instead of the traditional black one, so of course the shoes drew me in just as much. Even the golden double buckles looked good. In the right hand was the traditional patent leather, Oxford style, evening lace up shoe that you see all over the Oscar red carpet when some famous actor is walking down in Tom’s designs. It’s clean, straight to the point, and yet complimentary to the entire look. Though the blue shoes were stronger in appeal, I couldn’t deny the sophistication of the other pair. They’re the superior choice for tonight.

“Do the patent leather oxfords. They’re traditional and sleek. They’ll be perfect.” I’m not even sure what else could be done to make him look any more perfect than he already does. With his bow tie loosely hanging over his neck, his shirt untucked from his pants, and two pair of shoes in his hands, he’s still undoubtedly is the sexiest man I’ve ever encountered. If my mother weren’t sitting on the couch and I didn’t have my two person glam team standing in front and behind me, I absolutely would have blurted out a few of the vulgar thoughts crossing my mind. This man in a suit is my kryptonite and he wears them more often than he wears anything else, so I am constantly going through phases of feeling tempted and aroused daily. Occasionally, I’m damn near embarrassed at how much I always want him.

“I agree. They’re refined.” As my mother chimed in, he nodded to signify that he heard both suggestions.

“Thank you.”

As quickly as he appeared is as quickly as he disappeared back into the guest room. In yet another selfless act, he chose to use the guest room as the space to ready himself just in case I needed the bedroom and I probably will. That’s where the gown and shoes are.

“Nude lip tonight?”

“Yeah, the gown is the statement. No need for anything bold.” Besides that, it’s typically my go to whenever I’m putting something on my lips.

“You know, this year, I am struggling to figure out what to get you for Christmas. For the past couple of years you’ve been home more, so I’ve been able to eavesdrop on a few conversations to figure out a few ideas for what you may want, but it seems like this year, it’s going to be a struggle.”

“I don’t really have anything that I particularly want. I’ve already gotten two gifts for you though.” I smirked in satisfaction knowing that I may end up being the gift queen this year. She has and will always love vintage Chanel bags, so I scored two that I know she’ll be gasping over in surprise and clutching her chest in love for. One in particular cost me over thirteen thousand dollars and is coming all the way from Japan. Though I nearly choked at the price tag, I didn’t hesitate to purchase it for her. She’s beyond worth it and that doesn’t even touch the surface of all that I owe her.

“Have you? Well look who isn’t last minute shopping this year.” After closing the magazine, she placed it down on her lap. “I was in Saks the other day and I saw the cutest Gucci diaper bags. I think I’m going to grab two of them as gifts for Lauren because I just can’t wait until the baby shower to start shopping. I’m too excited. We’re finally going to have a baby in the family.” Her excitement has been relentless since the announcement as I expected it to be and it will eventually reach a point of overkill and I suppose that’s understandable to. Being a grandmother is something she’s been looking forward to since we were children. Unlike other mothers who do their best to hold onto their younger days, she has no “glam-ma” or “GiGi” rule. She intends to be a good ol’ grandmother who has her grandchildren running around her house all summer long while they’re being spoiled rotten by both she and my father. I can also sense the pride she feels in the timing of this baby given that Isaac is in a much better place and will actually handle fatherhood in a manner that’ll make her proud. He did things the right way and that’s something to be applauded. I’m just as proud of him as they are. Not only do he and Lauren deserve this, but so does my parents. A new life to ease out some of the pain from the loss of one is a blessing to be celebrated. Eventually, brother and sister-in-law will have half of a football roster worth of them for our parents to love all over.

“I think she’ll like that.”

I’ll never forget coming across this Zac Posen gown while skimming through the runway section of Vogue’s website to view all of the New York Fashion Week collections. Naomi Campbell, in all of her goddess nature, came sauntering down the runway and left me completely breathless as the dim lighting in the Vanderbilt Hall in Grand Central Terminal cascaded over the glittering taffeta gown. It instantly became a social media viral moment and I fantasized about myself in that gown for months. I’d even gone as far as using the gown as inspiration for my own ideas and sketches. Never in a million years plus a million more would I ever think that I’d be standing in my now fiancé’s bedroom with my mother zipping up the exact gown onto my frame. I have to give credit to Stacey for reaching out to the fashion house and making the connection. I’m quite sure that Dante’s name was the clout needed for them to agree to it, but it’s happening and I’m beyond grateful. I may not have a terrible step-mother and ugly step-sisters but I do have a prince charming, so this is somewhat of a Cinderella moment for me.

“How do you feel in it?” Her question nearly went into one ear and right out of the other as I slowly ran my hands over the material. A blissful sigh eased past my lips as the reality of the moment sunk in.

“Good. So good.” I only had one fitting for it and I could barely contain my excitement as Zac himself put a few pins in the upper bodice to mark the points for alterations. He had to take it in just a bit so it’d clasp my bosom slightly more than it did. If you ask me, it was perfect then…but it’s damn sure perfect now.

“You look absolutely stunning sweetheart.” Rather than allowing me to turn in a circle for her, she circled me with a smile of pride and gleam within her watering eyes. Her hand met the skin of my arm in a gentle touch and with a nod of her head, her approval was sealed. “Just perfect.”

“Thanks mom.”

“The belle of the ball.”

“I’m sure there are going to be plenty of belles of the ball tonight. Lets not get cocky here.” I’m expecting the matriarch of the St. James Family to stop the show in only a manner that both she and her husband know how to. How could she not?

“You’re my child. I’ll be as arrogant as I want to be. Now let me get a picture for your dad.”

What she called a picture, felt like hundreds that Dante eventually became apart of. We had no time to compliment one another or to even speak about what tonight’s festivities may hold for the both of us because of the domineering Lillian Dupont. The best photos were taken in the lobby of the condominium. The lavish decor served as the perfect background for my mother, who had suddenly morphed into Cecil Beaton while we served as the royalty in front of her lens. Marvin’s SUV was our awaiting carriage and she saw us off with words of encouragement to have a good time and a joy filled wave as she stood on the Manhattan curb.

The humans zipping along the sidewalks and jay walking into traffic along with the ubiquitous skyscrapers captured my attention in the same essence that it always does. The juxtaposition of affluence and poverty wasn’t as obvious tonight as it is when you’re walking down the streets of congested Times Square. The looming question of where I fit in amongst all of this isn’t tormenting my mind like it has been since the death of my brother. Despite my nervousness, I can sense the peace in being here within this moment without my brother and yet with Dante. This city continues to give me love.

“Baby.”

“Hm?” A hitched breath left me faintly pulling for my oxygen as I took in his sight. There is no one feature that makes him so handsome. I can mention his soft lips and their perfect rosy hue that I can kiss until we’re experiencing numbness. Maybe it’s structure of his jaw and the way it immaculately curves to form the symmetry of his face. Maybe it’s the curve of his smile and the way it melts my soul and makes me fall deeper in love. His eyes. Dear God, the eyes.  From them comes an intensity that leaves me breathless, an honesty that has yet to fail me, and a vulnerability that embraces and showers me with adoration, and lastly a strength that rids me of my deepest fears. I still stop in my tracks at the sight of him. I still shrink and blush when his gaze washes over me. He is the embodiment of secure masculinity that leaves me on an endless high. Tonight is all of that times a million. I can barely contain myself.

“You look like a dream.” No, that’s you Dante. It’s you.

“So do you.”

“No, really. I can’t even put it into words. Perfection isn’t even a good enough word. Shit. I….” His dark chocolate eyes widened as his tongue became tied in his mental search for the perfect adjective. If I wasn’t already blushing before, he’s certainly drawn it out of me now.

“Thank you. You amazing yourself. I’m always obsessed with you in a suit, but in a tux? It makes me want to give you a couple of babies.”

“So you’re saying that I should wear these everyday then?” Even Marvin had to laugh at his response. I knew it was coming. If he wears a tux everyday, I’ll be like those women who are walking around pushing a double stroller with a toddler walking along side it, twin babies inside of it, and a very pregnant belly peaking out from behind it. I don’t even think the Malibu home would be big enough to house a family of that magnitude.

“Look at you starting early. Are you excited about tonight?” I had to ask because he hasn’t said much about it beyond the occasional responses here and there to my general questions.

“I’m excited that you’re with me.”

“But you aren’t excited about the event itself?”

“It’s a gala with a bunch of wealthy people and A&M employees, drinking, dancing, mingling and flexing their checkbooks with donations. I can’t really pinpoint what the exciting part is suppose to be. I usually just sit at a table and count the hours until it’s over. Occasionally, Stacey will make me get out of my seat and dance with her. Fredrick came last year, but he’s having a get away weekend with Erica.”

“And Mike?”

“He’s down in North Carolina for his grandmother’s birthday party. He’ll be back in a day or two. We’re going to meet up to play ball as soon as they get back to the city.”

“Will you save a dance for me tonight?” The question was a tease and his smirk told me that he knew it. “I don’t think Stacey will mind.”

“I’ll absolutely save you a dance.”

“More importantly, I don’t want you to stress tonight. I care about that far more than a dance. I’ve noticed how much you tense up whenever you’re in a room with your parents and brother. I’m sure that reaction is beyond your control at this point but still, even if it’s just for tonight, try and have some kind of fun. Don’t worry about them or anything that can possibly be said or done to take you into a negative space. No matter what, everything’s going to be alright. I won’t make you promise me because I know what it’s like when someone is testing your cool and shit does happen, but I just want you to know that either way I’m going to be by your side whether we’re having a blast or whooping ass.” In the midst of our laughter, I knew my words couldn’t be truer. We’re not on a wild ride like Bonnie and Clyde, but I’ll still step up to whatever challenge with him if necessary because I know at any given moment he’ll either do the same for me or move me to the side and take it all on by himself.

“I’m down with that. No stress. No fighting because you look too gorgeous for all of that. We’re going to go, enjoy it as best as we can, and go about our business.” He’s right about the fighting part. Though I’m willing to defend his honor if necessary, I’d rather not do so with a hundred million dollars worth of borrowed Harry Winston jewelry on my body. My eyes nearly bulged out of my head and fell onto the floor as Dante opened up the jewelry boxes and insisted that they were perfect for the tonight’s festivities and the gown I’d be wearing. He specifically chose pieces from the jewelry house’s iconic collection of cluster diamonds. Around my neck is over a hundred and thirty carats of marquise and pear shaped diamonds. On my wrist is eighty carats of marquise and pear shaped diamonds. My ears? Thirteen carats. Thankfully, they’re not as dramatic in weight because they certainly would have ripped through my holes if they were any heavier. If I lose any one of these pieces, it might as well be considered purchased. Lord only knows why he’s trusting me to walk around with that much of his money at stake as a fashion statement.

“Sounds like a plan to me Suga.” As soon as he leaned in for a kiss, I quickly turned my head so he could catch my cheek.

“Did you just swerve me?”

“I can’t have you messing up my lipstick this early, come on now.”

“The early part of your response means that I have permission to mess it up later and I’m holding you to that.”

“St. James, please.”

“Soon to be St. James, I’m holding you to that.” My future last name rolling off of his tongue sent a faint chill down my spine as I turned to glance at the side of his face. All thoughts to preserve my lipstick went out of the window as I pressed my lips into his cheek. I’ll always be the float like the wind, slightly reserved, nurturing, and hopeless romantic Dupont but I’m looking forward to my journey as a St. James.

The last time I attended a corporate event, it was a birthday party thrown from Andreas in Miami by Micky Arison and Pat Riley. The reason why I label it corporate is because I had absolutely nothing to do with it and for the most part, I didn’t know a single person on the guest list aside from a handful of the player’s wives. Just about all of the attendees were involved in either playing the sport or being a central piece behind the scenes of it. It was on the rooftop of Miami’s 1 Hotel South Beach and much like damn near every outdoor party in Miami, it was an all white affair. I wore Versace from head to toe that night. We both did. All it was flown in literally the day of and made it just in time for a fitting and a slight alteration to the upper strap of my dress. Though I was in no mood for it, I had a role to play and the most important part of it is looking the part. If I did nothing else right, I’d like to think that’s the one area that I upheld myself in even if I didn’t internally feel like what people complimented me for when referencing to the external.

We argued inside of his Ferrari the entire drive to the event. That was a routine for us whenever we were within an enclosed space with no where else to go for an extended period of time. My boisterous pleas were all about being seen and heard by him while his were ones of dismissal and disdain at my neediness. The same man who once told me that I didn’t need to worry about anything and to allow him to take care of me, condescendingly told me that I needed to find an occupation so that I wouldn’t take my self induced misery out on him. When we arrived to the party, though we walked in hand in hand, we were only along side one another for twenty minutes or less. He glued Amber to his side and I glued myself to a seat at the bar, where I threw back shots of my favorite tequila and looked on at an interaction that I knew was more than just friendship. She’d been screwing him long before that party and I knew it. That evening they didn’t seem to have a problem with everyone else figuring it out as well. A rage that I hadn’t felt before set in as I looked on and reality set in about the unraveling of our marriage. When we arrived home in the wee hours of the morning, I took a bat and smashed the windshield of the same Ferrari we left in. I suppose his guilt stopped him from having me arrested for vandalizing his property.

“Wow.”

Though he nor Stacey mentioned anything about a specific theme, the Prohibition era or rather the Roaring 20s, was intertwined with the event’s decor. Much like Gatsby, the glitz and glamour of the high society was on full display with it’s black and white color scheme and golden and silvery metallics to further accentuate it. Swinging from the chandeliers were women dressed as flappers in their art deco style dresses with feathered and jeweled hair pieces and headbands that I’d love to add to my accessories collection. The bespoke floral arrangements of white Avalanche roses and Lilies softened the darkened atmosphere and towering centerpieces placed on every table dripped Swarovski crystals down their frames and glimmered in the dim lighting. Given the time of the year, I expected to see something along the lines of a winter wonderland but I suppose this makes sense. It actually makes a ton of sense.

“Yeah, I know. Beautiful event thrown by shitty people.”

We skipped the red carpet. It took up the entire block and was rolled out for the attendance of their celebrity clientele and anyone else who was bold enough to walk it. The discussion and decision between he and I was a swift one once we were within five minutes of arriving. Though he had no concern or fear of trekking down it’s red surface with me along side him, I deemed it to be unnecessary. No matter how much he’s trying to mask it, he’s already uneasy about being here and the flashes of those cameras may have taken him over the edge.

“How much does something like this cost to throw?”

“Millions. Anywhere between two and five.” The aloof response was followed by him drawing me closer to the side of his body while we maneuvered past all of the gazing eyes. I’m a stranger amongst this crowd and it is more than obvious by the glances and whispers.

“There you two are. I’ve been waiting at this bar for about forty five minutes. I didn’t want to sit down without you.” Stacey stood before us looking absolutely stunning, just as I expected her to. She has such a timeless and ageless beauty about her that enhances day by day, and then there’s her warming and playful smile that immediately lights up a room when she walks into it. I’m all for a woman taking her time when it comes to snapping back after childbirth. It’s what they deserve after nine long months of nesting a child and then going through the beautiful yet taxing experience of childbirth. Stacey? If I didn’t already know she had a baby, I wouldn’t have been able to guess it. There isn’t anything out of place or shape. And tonight? She’s outshining everyone in the room in her deep teal Zuhair Murad gown.

“Autumn, oh my God.” In the same manner as she had done in Dante’s office the first time we met, her eyes bulged out of her head and she grabbed both of her hips as she playfully ogled over my attire for the evening. I too, was doing the same thing to her. With the way her body looks in that gown, I need to get back on my running schedule to get these extra ten pounds of relationship weight off of me.

“No. I should be the one saying that. You look amazing.”

“Girl. You literally look like a black holiday Barbie. My mother started collecting them for me ever since I was a little girl and I’ve kept the tradition going because I plan to give them all to my daughter. That’s what you are serving tonight. This gala hasn’t had a moment like this ever before and you know I don’t lie. These white women waltzing around here barely know how to put on some damn color. Wow.” I could only wrap her up into my arms for a tight hug. There’s something extremely beautiful about women celebrating one another and whenever I have a moment like that I enjoy it. Our compliments for one another have a tendency to be far more important and uplifting than anything a man can tell us and I wish more women would understand that. We’re at our best and strongest point when we’re standing together and behind one another.

“You look dapper too Tae.” As her arm slapped into his shoulders, he drew her in for his own hug.

“You look incredible Stace. The traffic made us slightly late, but as far as I’m concerned we aren’t late enough.”

“Oh, I know.” The knowing look they gave one another left me in the dark. “At least the checkbooks are already out. The more we see those, the quicker all of this dwindles down. Rich folks, alcohol, and money. It’s always bullshit in the making. I moved your seat by the way. It took a lot of sneaky shit to get it done, but I did.”

“Same table as you?”

“Yeah, same table.”

I thought he’d avoid speaking with people at all costs, but he opted not to and held a number of short conversations after being sure to properly introduce me with the proper title. The difference between he and I and the men walking around with their wives on their arms is respect and partnership. There’s this stench of fragile masculinity and sexism suffocating the place and every single time I catch a glimpse of it, my stomach turns. Out of the multiple conversations that he’s had with fellow co-workers and a few clients, only two men properly introduced their wives to him and allowed him to shake their hands. Then there are the disrespectful lust filled glares that their wives are deliberately ignoring for the sake of keeping their status and being kept. Most of all, I can only reflect back on the harsh reality that I used to be in the same exact place and predicament that they’re in. How can I judge?

“I’ve been awaiting my turn to embrace my son and my future daughter-in-law.” Elizabeth’s soft voice filled my ears from behind us. A small sigh of anxiety escaped my lips as my eyes flickered towards Dante and silence loomed between us. Despite what I requested of him on Thanksgiving Eve, I know it won’t be easy for him to bite his tongue, mask those pain filled emotions, and to began to work towards that healed and healthy relationship that she is pleading for when it comes to him. I can see it in his eyes and the manner in which they darken and narrow whenever she’s near. I can feel it in his tensed arm and the way it’s firmly locked around my waist as if she has the capability to do me any harm. Despite how I’m soothingly running my arm across his back, it’s not helping him.

“Autumn, you look absolutely stunning.” Her open arms lingered longer than they were supposed to due to his grip. A reassuring brush of my hand over his was what allowed an embrace with my future mother-in-law to happen. The aroma of her floral perfume filled my nose as she placed a soft kiss on my cheek. The mistiness in her eyes is what took the short moment from nice to confusing. “I just want to say congratulations and welcome to the family.”

I’m not even sure I can explain to Dante the guilt that filled my thoughts as I listened to her speak. He may look at me like I have the heads of Medusa or laugh it off and call me soft for falling for what he describes as pure antics for the sake of manipulation. I’m sure that’s a moment that she not only would have wanted to share with her son before hand, but of course she wanted to be there to witness him make such a momentous step within his manhood. Do I apologize? Do I explain? There’s not only an elephant in the room, but the entire damn zoo has shown up.

“Thank you Elizabeth.” I’d like to think that’s fair enough, right?

“Congratulations to you as well son. I’m proud of you.” I didn’t necessarily intend to visually scold him but it was instinctive. Had I not done it, he would have avoided that hug and nonchalantly nodded his head at her words meanwhile keeping his eyes locked on me, as if I actually matter in this brief heart to heart moment between mother and son.

“It’s good to see you, mom.”

“My God, you look just like your grandfather as you stand there in that tuxedo. You resemble him so much that it’s scary. Autumn, I have to show you pictures one day. He’s my dad through and though. He gets his mannerisms from his father. Their strength is identical. He loves hard, like me.”

“I believe it. From the moment we shook hands, I could pick up on certain qualities that he’s inherited from his dad.” The dominance and the way an entire room falls at their mercy is identical. It feels more hereditary than taught.

“I don’t see it.” Of course he’d disagree.

“I know you don’t. You’ve always felt like you are your own man and I cannot argue with that, despite what I do see of your father and grandfather within you. Your unique qualities shine bright.” The compliment went right over his head. His stoic facial expression never once shifted or even forced somewhat of a smirk. If anything, the panning of his eyes wreaked of impatience and pending dismissal.

“So a wedding date. Is there one set? I’d love to help out.”

“No. Not yet.” His lie flew out quicker than the truth could from my end.

“Well when there is, please don’t hesitate to call. Also, Autumn, I’d love to have your family over for dinner whenever you’re ready. If you’d rather us come and join them for dinner, I’m more than willing to do that as well. I figure it’d be nice to get to know them before everything takes place.”

“Of course. We’ll set something up. I’m sure my mom would love that, actually.” And she would. She’s a people person, but I fear her intuitive nature will be able to pick up on what Dante despises about them and then her fears will set in about how much of that will be inflicted upon me. If she didn’t have class and a reputation to protect, she would have already lunged at Joanne, so the last thing that I need is her being on the edge over some slick remark coming from the St. James men. She’d have their heads before my father or brother could.

“Good. I’m looking forward to it.” The fur stole wrapped around her upper frame complimented her twinkling brown eyes as they washed over her son’s dapper appearance in pride. Despite how he may feel about her, he’s a prize in her eyes and I can see it whenever she looks at him. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s the son that came from her womb and he’s done more than enough to make anyone who knows him proud. “Tony Bennett’s performing tonight. Save me a dance tonight if you can son.”

She didn’t bother to wait for his response and it may have been the most intelligent decision she’s made since addressing him this evening. She wouldn’t have gotten one.

“Dante.”

“I’m trying. I promise, I am.”

“Try a little bit harder, my love.”

“Then I’d be forcing it.”

“Please don’t have us get married without her being there. I am pleading this, genuinely. Please.” He allowed that to linger as he guided me to and helped me into my seat. Even as he sat down along side me and took in the ambiance, I didn’t receive an answer. There manner in which his eyes, which were once inseparable from me, were avoiding me said it all.

“Dante.”

“Okay. Whatever you want, baby.” He half ass meant it. His eyes were locked on the stage as this evening’s host, Mark Cuban, owner of the Dallas Mavericks, took the stage and began an onslaught of commentary and jokes that weren’t as hilarious as he thought they were. His mixture of sarcasm and financial flexing oozed of arrogance and a superiority complex if you ask me, but what do I know? If the bulk of the room finds it funny, maybe it’s me with the stick up my ass.

“Here he comes.” Stacey announced Richard loud enough for us to hear. His suave demeanor moved across that stage like a professional and he grabbed the microphone to welcome his audience. At the head table was his wife, Matthew and Camille, who we’ve yet to speak to and two empty seats that I’m sure were reserved for us. I should have prayed before we left home, but I’m going to get it done now. If God is on our side, the hours we spend here are going to flash by us like nanoseconds.  

“Good evening and welcome to the fifth annual A&M Gala. It’s incredible be within our fifth year of hosting such a  prominent event to be able to enhance STEM programs at our very own New York City’s schools and to further research for children’s cancer. My wife, who was once an educator, has been a long time advocate for the future of children and immediately brought me onboard with her efforts upon the two of us meeting one of another. It is one of the reasons why I fell in love with such a beautiful woman. Please, give my loving wife Mrs. Elizabeth St. James a hand.”  As she stood, I could sense how much she lives for moments of gratification from the man who is the apple of her eye. The gleam in her eyes could make one believe that they’re new lovers and the pageant like wave at the attendees around the room as they applaud her efforts solidifies how huge her importance feels internally though it may be small on the grand scale of things. In her eyes, she’s the first lady of this city and her husband seemingly does his best to keep up with that illusion for her.

“I like to call this event the CCC. Cocktails, checks, and then cut them loose.” Though the laughter was loud, I nodded in agreement because that’s exactly what these events at all about; the drinks and the money. No one gives a damn about the meal.

“Tonight we’re going to auction off some incredible donations to the A&M Foundation from some of our well renowned high profile clients and others who have taken a liking to our initiative and decided to reach out with a helping hand. I believe in the concept of it takes a village. I was raised right here on these New York City streets, I attended the same schools that your donations will be going to, and I know what it’s like to be within a school that doesn’t have enough resources to further engage the student’s interests. It is because of that, that I made sure to put my boys in the best schools that I could find and I’m sure a lot of you have done and are doing the same thing for your children. Our inner city parents do not have capability to offer their children the same luxuries but that doesn’t mean that they should go without the proper aid to brighten their educational journeys. So tonight, it’s all about those students and the children who are fighting for their lives in children’s hospitals so that they are capable of having the opportunity to make a difference in this country in the same manner that the students we’re going to help tonight will do. That’s a fight that I can stand behind every single day of my life and I hope that you all are just as passionate about it as the St. James Family is. I’d like to personally thank my son Matthew St. James who was able to network and create a number of study abroad opportunities for our graduating STEM students next year. A number of them will be going to study in places like Singapore, Osaka, Dublin, Sweden, and Glasgow for two semesters before returning to the states and entering four year universities. Give him a hand please.” A muscle involuntarily twitched at the corner of my eye once he stood to his feet and Dante’s mouth formed into a grimace at the lie that earned Matthew the applause. What was once his initiative, turned into Dante’s as he made those phone calls to get students into those prestigious programs. I remember him speaking with the chancellor of the university in Dublin for over an hour while we were in London. Suddenly, I have the urge to slap the smug expression off of Richard’s face as he gives his incompetent piece of shit of a son the credit for the work that he didn’t do.

“And then there’s my baby boy, who is the heart of A&M. He’s the vessel. It is because of him that every single school we donate to has advanced technology inside of the classrooms; the latest being Apple products. This gala isn’t where his donations start and stop. He is our first donor every year and on his own, he donates to cancer research and to our local Boys and Girls Clubs. He is also a donor to after school programs and summer camps throughout the city. So we thank you Dante. Please, give me baby boy a round of applause. Stand son.” As quickly as he stood and waved is as quickly as he sat back down, instead of basking in the moment like the others. Modesty wasn’t at play, but his moodiness certainly was.

“And I don’t know if everyone knows, but my youngest is finally taking the step that all of the other men in the family have taken. It’s been a long time coming, a damn long time coming when you think about it, but Dante is engaged to be married to the lovely woman to the right of him. I’ve spent some years wondering when he’d find the one to settle down with. Hell, out of every intern pool we get every two years, I mentally pick out at least three who may be capable of grabbing his attention and locking him down but it never happens. One year, I lost twenty five thousand dollars because I bet on the hottest one out of the group and not even she could catch his eye.” I wonder if she’s here tonight and if she is, her boss not only embarrassed her but it just made note of himself being far more concerned with getting his son laid than what great skill set and work ethic she could bring to his company. How degrading and unfair. The glass ceiling never moves.

“But now I can see why. His absolutely breathtaking bride-to-be was already out there in the world waiting for him to find her and he did. So Autumn, I want to formally welcome you to the St. James Family. We are thrilled to have you come and be apart of our strong foundation and tight knit bond. Congratulations to both you and Dante on your engagement and we’re all looking forward to everything leading up to your nuptials and all of the great things that are to come after them. I suppose this grey I’m growing in means it’s time for a couple of grandchildren to make sense of it.” The applause was thunderous, though neither one of us stood up for the ovation. Dante’s hands remained clasped tightly upon the table and he fiddled with his knuckles while waiting for it to end. Unlike Lillian, his praise felt cynical and it unnerved me far more than anything he had done tonight. My stomach writhed about as Matthew’s gaze ripped through me and the growing tension within the man along side me felt like it was going to wreak havoc within this place at any given moment. I’m not sure if we’re going to last another hour.

The bidding was done over dinner and though I didn’t particularly want anything, Dante won a thirty thousand dollar yellow and white diamond cuff by Tiffany’s that shapes itself around the wrist like a crown. I have a feeling it’s a Christmas gift for his mother. It’ll save him the time of having to look for one and certain suits her glitzy taste. Despite his offer to pay for anything I wanted to raise my auction paddle for, I declined and instead enjoyed the sultry and soothing crooning of the legendary Tony Bennett. I’d been waiting for him to take the stage most of the night and when he did, I wasn’t left disappointed. In the midst of my tipsy fiancé gulping down glasses of champagne to sooth his nerves and his distance from all in the room, including myself, I swayed in my seat for what felt like a personal performance just for me to the classics I’ve known and fell in love with because of my mother. Though Elizabeth’s request for a dance with him was never obliged, Stacey forcefully got one out of him. It was attempt at lightening his mood and I’m sure their purposeful and yet silly off beat dancing successfully did so.

“He hates attending this.” Camille broke my trance as she plopped down into Dante’s seat and gave me a nudge of lighthearted acknowledgement. She too, must have been watching his behavior throughout the night.

“I know. We didn’t have go if he didn’t want to. I thought my being here would help him, but I guess I jumped the gun.”

“Oh no, your being here is helping him plenty. He would have been gone by now. He usually sneaks out before we’re even halfway through the night. Right now, the night is just about over and look who’s still here.”

“He’s unhappy though.”

“With them, not you Autumn.”

“But that’s the thing. Am I enough? I wonder about that sometimes. He’s been tense since we woke up this morning and it’s only worsened since we’ve been here. There’s nothing that I’ve been able to do to help that. That’s his family. I’m just a woman that he happened to fall for. If he doesn’t feel loved by them, then I have fears that my love may not be enough.” That has interrupted and tormented my thoughts throughout the night. I love him with every fiber of my being but there’s nothing like the love of your parents and siblings. My love is what was supposed to come in and complete everything. I want to fill that void for him, but I’m not sure if I’m capable of doing so because I can only be one pivotal role in his life. I can’t be Elizabeth, Richard, or Matthew for him.

“It’s to the point that you’re so more than enough for him that he’s willing to and eventually is going to walk away from all of this to protect the both of you and your future together. You don’t have to doubt anything. If anyone in this room should be filled with doubt, it’s them. All of them hope, in some capacity, that he’ll fold and conform to what they want and need him to be but their worst nightmares are happening instead. He’s going to be okay though. He’ll be the victor at the end of the pending war. You just have to protect him Autumn, because he’s been protecting you since he set his eyes on you.” Victor? War? Her choice of words were not only alarming but perplexing.

“And what about you?” I had to ask. Her marriage is a disaster at this point and yet she holds onto it for dear life. Even I, at some point, had to let go through it felt like another experience with death right after losing my brother.

“I love him and he already needs me more than I need him. Soon enough, that’s going to worsen and he’s going to need somebody more than he needs anything else. I intend to be that somebody in some type of manner, whether I’m his wife or not. I’m going to be fine. The more pray about it, the more I realize what God has planned for me. That man out there on the dance floor, he’s apart of God’s plans for you. Don’t ever forget that.”

“I won’t.”

“You look beautiful, by the way. The belle of the ball.” It rolled off her tongue in the same manner that it did my mother’s. I pray one of these days she’s able to say those exact words to her own child.

“Thank you. You as well Camille.” I lightly nudged her with a smile as the beading of her black Ralph and Russo gown brushed against my shoulder. “You know, you can always give me a call if you ever want to talk.”

“Thank you for that and please don’t hesitate to do the same.”

And with a kiss to my cheek, I was once again left alone at the table to swoon over Tony’s voice as the night began to close out.

Oddly, Richard didn’t speak to me but I have a feeling that the brief conversation between he and Dante that I noticed out of the corner of my eye is the cause of that. I didn’t have to hear it to know that their exchange wasn’t filled with words of love and adoration for one another. Rather than approaching me, during the auction, we locked eyes with one another and he raised his glass of scotch in acknowledgement and tossed all of the contents inside of the glass down his throat in one swift motion. He would repeat that gesture an additional time as he walked past this table while I sat alone and yet he never said a word. I’m not sure if I should be alarmed or appreciative of that.

“I have a surprise for you.”

His excuse for us remaining at the table until the crowd cleared out made sense initially but after an hour wait and even Stacey leaving us to get home to her husband and daughter, my impatience heightened along with his amusement over my growing attitude. Suddenly, all of the tension had gone out of the door with the St. James’ and the crowd of attendees and the often times silly nature of the man I’ve fallen in love with was back in full swing as he excitedly tapped his fingers on the table in anticipation for this surprise. I don’t understand why he can’t give it to me back at the apartment.

“Is it the cuff? Because if so, it’s absolutely beautiful and Lord knows I’m appreciative but you can present it to me at home babe.” Though I felt like Cinderella at the ball, the clock has strike beyond two a.m. and I’m ready to get home and take all of this off. Enough is enough.

“The cuff is yours. It’s not that though.” I’m too tired to scold him for bidding on that for me, but tomorrow? It’s on. “It’s a nicer surprise. Something that I owe you.”

“What do you owe me? I can’t image a single thing you owe me tonight.”

“But I do owe you something. You notice how the band hasn’t left yet?” His index finger pointed towards the stage and I took notice of what he mentioned. I figured they were waiting until everyone was gone to pack up and get out of here and that he and I were their hold up. Well, it turns out the latter is true.

“Also do you remember when I disappeared for a few minutes earlier in the evening?”

“Uhm.”

“Well, I asked my man Tony for a favor and he happily obliged. I owe you a dance. So before we get out of here, we must dance.” I thought the champagne trickled his tipsiness into the drunken territory as he revealed his surprised but a ripple of laughter left me as the one and only Tony Bennett took his place on the stage once again for an impromptu performance just for two.

“So.” As he stood to his feet, my bashful laughter only worsened. I’ve watched scenes like this in some of my favorite romance films and like every other woman who enjoys them, I’ve imagined moments like this for myself with a man made up in the figment of my imagination. Is this real life?

“May I have this dance?” There was no hesitation as I latched my hand onto his and allowed him to pull me out of the chair. The journey to the dance floor was a short one and yet as he stood before me, the giggles wouldn’t cease.

“I cannot believe this.”

“Why not?” Nearly every breath within me made their exit as he drew me as close as possible and wrapped an arm around my waist.

“Because you’re a dream.” And the beautiful lyrics from “The Way You Look Tonight” further solidified that. I’ve watched Fred Astaire sing that song so many times in “Swing Time”. It’s such a timeless scene and I can’t help but to rewind it multiple times before I move on to the next. He may not be Fred Astaire, but having Tony Bennett is absolutely the next best thing.

“You look like a dream.” His lips meshed into my own to began his process of ruining my lipstick and I welcomed what I’d been craving for most of the night. The one he stuck during the auction wasn’t enough.

“You feel like one.” He pulled my hand in for a kiss as he held it. The pressure of his warm hand on the small of my back subdued the tingling along it.

“Thank you for being here with me tonight. I can admit that I wasn’t the best date. I spent more time walking around to remain calm than tending to you.”

“There’s no need to thank me.” I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I’m not supposed to be anywhere else. “I know being here tonight came with difficulty. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“And I want you to know that I am taking your words into consideration. I hear you. I’m going to do my best to allow myself to open up to her but I just have to do it in a way that makes sense for me. I just need some answers before all of it happens.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting answers. You deserve them. I just don’t want you go to any further in life without mending your issues with all of them, if possible. Even if you have to love them from a distance, at least your conscious will be clear. There won’t be any questions lingering in the back of your mind and regret replacing the pain that you’re experiencing now when it comes to them. This healing is for the sake of yourself and your mental health going forward. That’s what I’m advocating for.”

“I won’t let you down. I’m going to work on it.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you Autumn. In all of my choices, whether bad or good, you’re the best one that I’ve made.” I wasn’t expecting that to come next and yet as it did, I could no longer hear Tony nor could I see him from out of the corner of my eye. The man whose arms I’m wrapped up into had completely drowned me in his love and left me drunken off of all of him. As I bore into his intoxicating glare, I wasn’t capable of swiftly reflecting on every good or bad decision that I’ve ever made because within this moment, none of them matter. My decision to accept and be with him changed my life. That decision serves as a new beginning and the foundation for all that will further catapult me to being the Autumn that I’ve always dreamt of being. It taught me a language that only we can speak to one another. It has shown me the calm after the storm. It was a decision that I needed to make, not for the sake of being able to have a man and be smothered with love, but for the friendship that I gained from it and someone so beautiful promising me that he’ll be there to laugh and even cry with me for all of my days.

“I love you too.”

That I do. Beyond what words can say.

I’d gone from sizzling to full on scorching; my soul crying out in a separate desperation and thrill from my body.

I’m not sure how we’d gone from listening to John Coltrane with no words spoken to one another as fatigue left our frames lazily resting against the backseat of Marvin’s SUV, to stolen glances in the stainless steel elevator as we rode up to the privacy of his home, to pieces of our evening attire being scattered in a trail from the door, through the living room and finally, inside of the bedroom. Our eyes spoke the words that our mouths wouldn’t. The fire burning between the two of us conjoined in a enthralling blaze and it turned our hushed yearning into need.

“Dante…”  

My limps sprawled in the manner that he wanted them to as fervor filled every one of them in sync with his beckoning for me. As his fingers spread the silk of my flesh, his warm tongue laved at me in a ravenousness that left my hips rising to meet him and yet drawing away for the sake of my sanity. He savored me in a ceaseless longing, using what was made his to quench his thirst to further torment me.

“Please.” My hands pulled at his shoulders, to draw him away from his mission. If I didn’t, I will have fallen into an abyss that I wouldn’t be able to come back from.

“You’re so impatient.” The huskiness of his voice and the warm kisses he trailed along my belly to oblige and yet goad me left me mentally scolding myself for having drawn him away from his desires and yet the lathering of his tongue across my skin enticed me to fulfill mine. My impatience had gotten the best and worst of me as soon as our lips met for a kiss at that door and now I want to be filled with him more than I want anything else right now.

“Come here.”

I gave no explanation as his body hit the empty spot next to me and I swung my leg over the opposite side of his waist to hover over him. He didn’t hesitate to meet my lips with his, using his tongue to tempt and damn near dare me to continue on with whatever I intended to do for him. I looked away, as if anything else within the room mattered, and through his kisses to my neck and upper bosom, he read me like his favorite book and used a gentle finger to reorient my face so that our gazes would meet once again. The manner in which he caressed the skin of my face and intensified the passion within our gaze, withdrew my insecurity and destroyed any fears lingering within my conscious. Our breaths hitched as I wrapped my fingers around his bulging flesh and I guided him into my throbbing haven. As his hands clasped my hips, he deepened that plunge and mercilessly withdrew a vicious gasp out of me as my hips began to rise and lower to meet him. It all felt so raw and yet so sensual; so furious and yet unbelievably amorous.

Everything I thought I knew and should do has gone out of the window with every experience we have intertwined in his sheets. He’s studied me and briskly mastered the art of what it takes to drive me to the point of madness and then to bring me back down to this perplexing planet only to send me back to a euphoria that he has created for me and only me. A celebration of his birth open up the door for our exploration and it has only intensified since then. The costly flimsy materials that serve as a barrier between what he’s made the centerpiece of his studies and himself spends more time on the floor of this bedroom than they do on my body if we’re not out in the world dealing with our responsibilities. Our love making is a wake up call that opens up my day with blissfulness and our cries for one another serves as the lullaby before our nightly slumber. Am I enamored of him? Irrevocably.

“Fuck!”

I could no longer see him as my eyes remained tightly shut in unison with every nerve in my form as they continued to take me through a frenzy of unruly emotions. The rhythm teased him and yet it did not outdo him as he pulled at me to make sure I took all of him. The walls surrounding us captured every piercing yelp as my tightness clenched around him in need and every hiss of his to signify his undoing. The arch in my back deepened as the adrenaline intensified. Our shivers were in unison and the impulses trickling along my spine were a sign that I’d soon be surrendering to him.

With his arm tightly wrapped around my waist, his might turned me onto my back and his arms hiked my thighs up for his unwavering drive. His deep grunts were muffled into the nape of my neck and a spell of dizziness washed over me as sightlessness followed. The fluttering within my core worsened as the tips of my nails dug into the soft skin of his back and drove me to delirium through every twitch and tremble rattling against his frame. I’d beaten him this time but he wasn’t far behind. He became undone with a hoarse whisper of his love for me and his hands tangled in my now loosened long tresses.

“You know, I’ve put on the relationship ten because of you.” As my fingers locked into the thickness of his slightly grown out mane, he snickered against the dewy skin of my chest.

“I’m enjoying it.” Indeed he is. Grabbing, smacking, gripping, and sometimes all of the above, one right after the other.

“I bet you are.”

“You’re perfect.” Of course he’d say that. He says it more than enough for anyone to believe it to be a valid statement. I doubt he’ll ever stop telling me that. “This is perfect.”

Silence fell upon us while we used soft caresses to soothe our calming bodies. As the moonlight glimmered against our bare and glistening skin, it also cascaded over every diamond scintillating from my ears, neck, wrist, and most important of all, my hand. He removed everything else except those pieces.

“Baby.”

“Hm.” The nuzzling of his nose was suddenly replaced by his supple lips bringing some warmth to my nipple.

“Lets sleep later.”

Later means the sun will be somewhere in the sky and I am absolutely going to greet it with him.

Surprisingly, I woke up to the sight of cloudiness in the New York City skies and a perfect gloominess in the darkened bedroom that allowed our slumber to be plentiful and useful. Though I awoken before him, I continued to lay there tightly nested in his embrace, basking in his warm while obliging my lazy limbs need for continued rest. He hadn’t flinched, yawned, or made any type of move to warn me that his slumber was coming to an end. His heavy breathing and deep breaths blew against the back of my neck and nearly coaxed me into closing my eyes and resting just a bit more, but I denied myself of having a lazy day for the sake of finalizing everything for the Bluestar and Meridian holiday party. Glen’s supposed to pick me up at two o’clock so that I can make one more run to the florist about the table’s centerpieces. They’re a focal point of my Winter Wonderland theme and I need one more look at the mock up before the actual decorating begins. To say I’ll be glad when that party happens and is over is an understatement.

Once I pulled away from his body, I carefully slid out of bed in a failed effort not to awake him. Though he didn’t open his eyes or spoke, I knew I interrupted him because he turned over on his back and let out a heavy exhale. His Tom Ford button up shirt would serve as my robe once I tossed it over my nudity and I used my hands to clasp it close as I maneuvered into the living room in search of my clutch bag. The ravishing Zac Posen gown was safely laying across the blackened sofa and my bag? On the floor leading into the hall.

On my trek to the kitchen, I slid my phone out of the inside pocket and pressed the home button to light up my lock screen. Twelve missed calls. Twenty four text messages. Nine Twitter direct messages. Fifteen hundred mentions. Seven voicemails. My heart thrashed against my chest as my fingers slowly tapped at the screen to open up whatever world of trouble awaited me within those alerts. I could only think of one person; Andreas. Though I’m not sure what he could possible have to say about me at this point in time, I know that he can dig deep enough within himself and our past to find anything that I’ve done to make him tick with aggravation and despise me simply for existing. He never felt compelled to speak of our union to the media and often dodged any specific questions about me when meddling journalists took their questions in a far too personal route. He’d claim that his personal life is off limits and basketball is all that matters. After our interaction at Heather’s wedding, it’d be of no surprise if he finally did open up about our toxicity to further dig under my skin.

Before I clicked on any social media, I went straight to my inbox and opened Heather’s messages. If there’s anyone who’ll be able to cheer me up in the midst of any adversity, it’s her.

“What the fuck?” It slithered out of my mouth in a whisper as my thumb enlarged the first imagine she sent. The New York Post. On page five, inside of the infamous newspaper that has filtered throughout the New York City streets since the early eighteen hundreds was an enlarged photograph of Dante and I sharing what was a quick peck of the lips during the auction last night. My fingers swiped so I’d see the entirety of what is an entire two pages right in the middle of the paper. Though one brief paragraph mentioned the event and all that it entailed, the rest of the write up and the entire page five were of he and I basking in the presence of one another at many different timeframes of the night. The images of the celebrity attendees pointlessly donned page six. Though they were there, the sensationalized page before it was the eye catcher. Hell, even I would sip my caramel latte while taking a deep dive into it as I sit in a Starbucks or commute to Brooklyn on the four train.

“From WAG to riches. Former wife of decorated Miami Heat coach Andreas Harrington bounces back onto the scene of love with one of New York City’s most eligible bachelors.” I had to read it aloud to worsen the already bewildered expression on my face and a cringe followed as I skimmed through the four short paragraphs of sourced information about my former life in Miami and my now “bounced back” life with the “soon to be billionaire” Dante St. James. Beads of perspiration tickled the crevices of my skin as the back surface of my phone crashed into the counter top and my hands instantly went to my head as I tried to make sense of every detail.

“Dante!” Whatever rest he may have been trying to savor had to end. I suddenly feel like I haven’t had any.

As I approached the doorway of his bedroom, he was sitting on the edge of his bed with his phone resting in his right hand.

“I know. I see it.”  

And yet he remained calm. There wasn’t a single part of me unnerved by it all and yet here he is, with no signs of tension or irritation. The muscles in his back were calmer than they usually are when he has to get out of bed and head into the office. His lazy and slouched position is no where near as straight forward and tightened as he tends to be when he’s going to face those that he has no taste for. Every bit of enmity is all me and though not purposeful, I’m left to deal with it alone.

“I’m so confused right now. I don’t remember us taking pictures last night aside from the ones my mom took and the selfies on my phone.”

“They were taking pictures all night long. That’s what happens at events like that. This is all Richard. The gala has always had coverage the next day but with my name meddled in it? No. Whatever source they’re speaking of is him.” We’ve spoken about the encouragement from his father that he broadens his presence amongst the masses and how Stacey is trying to help him do so without him feeling like he has to sacrifice his personal and mental space, but never did I think gossip about what’s happening within his personal life would be within any of it. I’m guilty of Googling him early on and every piece I came across was written by some prominent business publication. Even the Forbes articles were all business and accomplishments, nothing personal, unlike the ones that are written today. More so for him than myself, I’m beyond irate that it has come to this. On my end, the undertone overtly alludes to gold digging. This is my sophomore year of college all over again.

“Your father does not like me. From WAG to riches? Soon to be billionaire? You do realize how that sounds right?”

“He doesn’t like anybody. It’s all business and playing politics when it comes to him. That aside, this is retaliation for me not including he and his wife in on the proposal.”

“So this is what you guys do? Get revenge on one another?” His head swung in my direction as a scowl donned his face. It’s the first time he’s looked at me since I returned to the bedroom and it’s rather alarming. Despite his unruffled posture, there’s something discerning about his reaction.  

“This is what who does? This isn’t a you guys thing. I didn’t do this shit.”

“I’m not saying that you did.”

“I don’t care about this Autumn. I’ve never been a person who feeds into gossip, even if it’s about myself. None of that matters. It’ll be talked about today and disregarded tomorrow. People are fickle and become bored easily. It’s my job to know that for a living. Richard will have his day. I’m going to make sure of that.”

“Okay.” What more is there to say? As easily as it flowed from his lips is as easily as he’s going to let it go. Fine by me.

“Where are you going?”

“Work. Unlike what your folks and the rest of the world may think of me, I have a job.”

“Autumn. What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing.”

And with that said, I walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind myself.

There was nothing else to be discussed.

[strauss12friedrichsen-blog]

International Warming Will certainly Own 'Extreme Rainfall' And also Flooding, Study Discovers.

Almost 200 countries have actually reached a deal to restrict using greenhouse gases much more powerful compared to carbon dioxide in a significant effort to combat environment change. The specialists likewise inform the Lords that the Wellness Secretary, who will certainly resolve the Traditionalist Celebration Seminar on Tuesday mid-day, is incorrect to declare that physicians support him. The ironic point is that whilst, I feel the general public's understanding of special needs has changed with sport, I misunderstand as to why sporting activity in the UK hasn't transformed to enable special needs. Little did I understand I also unintentionally registered to be a component of the Global Hearts club, a club whose participants like Pico Iyer, promise obligations to not just one nation however several as well as often, none. Dancing also advertises fitness - it adds to heart and also lung wellness, is a wonderful workout for toning and also reinforcing muscles, aids maintain a healthy weight as well as reinforces the bones. A four-year measles epidemic that has preyed mostly on unvaccinated inner-city youngsters, killing ratings of young people throughout the country, has lessened greatly in The golden state and in many other states, health authorities claimed Wednesday. I could definitely see a few of my hesitant viewers selecting this title up. It's short as well as attract the sporting activities follower in every person. The project, called the Comprehensive Health and wellness Education and learning and Training Program, was created in 2014 by Bill Honig, state superintendent of public guideline. I believe the book was published before 2012 but if he would certainly have also glanced at the 2008 team he would certainly have seen that it's a very various sport from the 80s and very early 90s. As well as instead of thinking of worldwide health and wellness work as help for seriously poor receivers, we could consider methods to reach individuals that are consumers of wellness services and products-- occasionally at low or subsidized prices as well as often through collaborations in between nonprofit as well as for-profit organizations. Health authorities claimed they were specifically concerned about the patterns in the youngest age - those aged 16 -24, which were the very first ahead of age in the age of social media. http://laforcedevitamines.info of the Beyond the Bell MSSP shows our conviction that middle and also primary institutions additionally need to be a locus of young people sports. Essentially any method in which your task makes you feel stressed out is bad for your wellness-- uncertain commutes, stress and difference with your boss or coworkers, really feeling underestimated or unappreciated. Most lately, in April 2016, the British Royal Trio announced the #HeadsTogether project, a charity that intends to end the stigma around mental health and wellness and selected as the 2017 London Marathon Charity of the Year. The World Health and wellness Organization specifies social components of health and wellness as the problems where individuals are birthed, expand, live, work and also age. Definitive evidence of this is given in the work of Michael Marmot, Richard Wilkinson and others on the social factors of health", revealing that gross inequalities hurt the health and wellness of the underdogs of society, both by weakening their way of livings as well as by making them prone to unsafe behavior patterns, such as smoking and extreme alcohol consumption. An individual with good emotional health is in touch with his feelings, expresses those feelings in an appropriate way, enjoys discovering, utilizes his mind to develop thinking abilities, learns from his mistakes and accepts obligation. . A 2012 research study published in the journal Social Science as well as Medicine discovered that the key to wellness and joy is the assistance of others. In sporting activities such as gymnastics or diving, athletes have the tendency to peak while still young and not get involved as adults. The evidence of the dessert depends on the experience of the Hymers household who offered to return in time and spend nine weeks enduring on austere supplies for the series The 1940s Home, currently revealing on Network 4. Not just did all the adult Hymers reduce weight as well as reveal moderate health and wellness renovations by the end of the experiment but, 6 months after recording has finished, grandmother Lyn Hymers has stuck with her wartime regimen and urges her health has actually profited. Created by Fanny Britt as well as highlighted by Isabelle Arsenault-- the artist behind the spectacular Virginia Wolf, among the best youngsters's publications of 2012-- this work of art of storytelling is as emotionally honest as well as mentally insightful as it is graphically stunning. Jasmine tea is especially healthy and balanced since it is high in a team of powerful antioxidants called catechins. Like ideological integrationists, global legalists think that states are converging towards ideological contract, yet the ideological arrangement is not so much about liberal democracy as regarding the value of legalism. www.laforcedevitamines.info and also his family have actually accumulated 9.1% of Worldwide Crossing Ltd.'s common stock, the United States fiber optic network operator stated Monday. In light of such fads, wellness specialists and also staff member groups are afraid that too couple of employers have detailed policies in position to minimize the risks connected with evening work. Establishing it wasn't very easy-- we needed to reengineer the indicator, collaborate with World Health Organization to win authorization, and also design a lasting business version for the business that make and also distribute it. But it's tough to visualize a better example of social technology compared to this. This is a terrific collection of essays regarding women who move (willingly or involuntarily through sexual slavery) as a result of contemporary financial stress and numerous other causes linked to globalization.

[corbie]

Words I Have Enjoyed, 2018

Books

J.G. Ballard, The Day of Creation

Jodorowsky, The Incal

Charles Stross, Toast and Other Stories

Richard Feynman, QED: the strange theory of light and matter

Bertrand Russell, The Problems of Philosophy

Douglas Adams, Dirk Gentry’s Holistic Detective Agency

Iain M. Banks, The State of The Art

Ursula K. Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness

Iain M. Banks, Excession

Italo Calvino, If On A Winter’s Night A Traveller

Roland Barthes, Mythologies

Frank Herbert, Dune

Chinua Achebe, Things Fall Apart

Aldous Huxley, The Doors of Perception

Aldous Huxley, Heaven and Hell

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion

Daniel C. Dennett, Consciousness Explained

Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus

Longer Reads

Assorted Alan Kay Emails

“After more than 50 years of doing edge of art research, my conclusion is that "it is delicate". An important part of any art is for the artists to escape the "part of the present that is the past", and for most artists, this is delicate because the present is so everywhere and loud and interruptive. For individual contributors, a good ploy is to disappear for a while. What was wonderful about the big creative projects of the golden age was that they had to be conducted out in the open by lots of people, but the processes and pressures were such that the delicate parts were not done in.”

Are We Awake Under Anesthesia?

What happens to the mind and consciousness under anesthesia?

Fifty psychological and psychiatric terms to avoid

“A gene for…“, “Brain region X lights up”, “Chemical imbalance”, “Closure”, “Fetish”, and friends.

The Female Price Of Male Pleasure

“Once you've absorbed how horrifying this is, you might reasonably conclude that our "reckoning" over sexual assault and harassment has suffered because men and women have entirely different rating scales. An 8 on a man's Bad Sex scale is like a 1 on a woman's. This tendency for men and women to use the same term — bad sex — to describe experiences an objective observer would characterize as vastly different is the flip side of a known psychological phenomenon called "relative deprivation," by which disenfranchised groups, having been trained to expect little, tend paradoxically to report the same levels of satisfaction as their better-treated, more privileged peers.”

DNA Through The Eyes Of A Coder

“DNA is not like C source but more like byte-compiled code for a virtual machine called 'the nucleus'. It is very doubtful that there is a source to this byte compilation - what you see is all you get.”

A Generation Lost in the Bazaar

“That is the sorry reality of the bazaar Raymond praised in his book: a pile of old festering hacks, endlessly copied and pasted by a clueless generation of IT "professionals" who wouldn't recognize sound IT architecture if you hit them over the head with it. It is hard to believe today, but under this embarrassing mess lies the ruins of the beautiful cathedral of Unix, deservedly famous for its simplicity of design, its economy of features, and its elegance of execution.”

The Recurse Center User’s Manual

I wish every technical working group I’ve been on for the past fifteen years had something one-tenth as thoughtful as this.

The White Darkness: A Journey Across Antarctica

The trial of crossing the Southern continent on foot, alone.

Why the Culture Wins: An Appreciation of Iain M. Banks

“One interesting consequence of this process is that the competition between cultures is becoming defunctionalized. The institutions of modern bureaucratic capitalism solve many of the traditional problems of social integration in an almost mechanical way. As a result, when considering the modern “hypercultures” – e.g. American, Japanese, European – there is little to choose from a functional point of view. None are particularly better or worse, from the standpoint of constructing a successful society. And so what is there left to compete on? All that is left are the memetic properties of the culture, which is to say, the pure capacity to reproduce itself.”

Programmer as wizard, programmer as engineer

“I think one of the overarching goals of compute science is to make more programming like wizarding. We want our computers to be human-amplifiers.”

The Ambiguous Utopia of Iain M. Banks

“Philosophically, the Culture accepts, generally, that questions such as “What is the meaning of life?” are themselves meaningless....In summary, we make our own meanings, whether we like it or not.”

Computing is Everywhere: A conversation with Bret Victor, Creator of Dynamicland

“That was the plan, yeah. I had um I just built up a . . . a set of things I wanted to think about that could not be thought at Apple. It was kind of this — um I had a bulletin board in my room and had like all these little pieces of paper that I had stuck to that board. And so when I went on my trip, I kind of scooped all those papers into like three little plastic baggies, and then at some random public library somewhere in the middle of the country, I spread out those papers on a big desk and tried to figure out what — what is it? Like what — what is the abstraction here? What — what does all these little ideas add — What are the categories here? What does it add up to?”

Lessons from Optics, The Other Deep Learning

“If anything, I wanted to reply that maybe her engineers should be scared.”

How To Be A Systems Thinker: A Conversation With Mary Catherine Bateson

“The tragedy of the cybernetic revolution, which had two phases, the computer science side and the systems theory side, has been the neglect of the systems theory side of it. We chose marketable gadgets in preference to a deeper understanding of the world we live in.”

Deconstructing the Unix Philosophy

Lots of good bits here.

A Basic Lack of Understanding

“This article is about what AI is, but it’s also about why learning what AI is is important in the first place. It’s about how AI is marketed as a commodity today, and what impact that has on people whose work and social lives are touched and shaped by AI on a daily basis. And it’s about how the future of resistance against AI-backed exploitation may not just be technological in nature, but social and cultural.”

One day I'm going to do a survey of the early-21st century AI skepticist essay landscape.

Self-respect: Its Source, Its Power

“To protest that some fairly improbable people, some people who could not possibly respect themselves, seem to sleep easily enough is to miss the point entirely, as surely as those people miss it who think that self-respect has necessarily to do with not having safety pins in one's underwear. There is a common superstition that "self-respect" is a kind of charm against snakes, something that keeps those who have it locked in some unblighted Eden, out of strange beds, ambivalent conversations, and trouble in general. It does not at all. It has nothing to do with the face of things, but concerns instead a separate peace, a private reconciliation.”

Carbon Ironies

“Most likely, you are a hard, angry person. . . . Beset by floods, droughts, diseases and insect plagues . . . fearing for your children in the face of multiplying perils, how can you feel anything better than impatient contempt for my daughter and me, who lived so wastefully for our own pleasure?”

Utopia and Work

“The utopianism of full employment is so entrenched, as a seemingly uncontested common sense, it’s difficult to imagine a different utopian horizon.”

Disposable America

“As it turns out, all three companies’ histories intersect with each other, as well as with structural changes to the American economy. But first, we have to talk about McDonald’s.”

What can a technologist do about climate change?

No clear answers, but thoughtful and insightful.

Survival of the Richest

Slowly but surely, however, they edged into their real topics of concern. Which region will be less impacted by the coming climate crisis: New Zealand or Alaska? Is Google really building Ray Kurzweil a home for his brain, and will his consciousness live through the transition, or will it die and be reborn as a whole new one? Finally, the CEO of a brokerage house explained that he had nearly completed building his own underground bunker system and asked, “How do I maintain authority over my security force after the event?”

Bourdain Confidential

“As much as I look at houses sometimes and think wow, that would be really nice, if that were my house, I know that I would be miserable. It would be… cleaning out the… the gutters, and you know, what about the pipes freezing, and if you own a home it means you have to vacation in the same place every year. I’m a renter by nature. I like the freedom to change my mind about where I want to be in six months, or a year. Because I’ve also found you might have to make that decision… you can’t always make that decision for yourself, you know… shit happens.”

How to write a good software design document

“A design doc is the most useful tool for making sure the right work gets done.”

The Bullshit Web

“There is a cumulative effect of bullshit; its depth and breadth is especially profound. In isolation, the few seconds that it takes to load some extra piece of surveillance JavaScript isn’t much. Neither is the time it takes for a user to hide an email subscription box, or pause an autoplaying video. But these actions compound on a single webpage, and then again across multiple websites, and those seemingly-small time increments become a swirling miasma of frustration and pain.”

On Production Minimalism

“Do more and more with less and less until eventually you can do everything with nothing.”

“Omakase”

Just read it.

See No Evil

“What if we take these companies at their word? What if it is truly impossible to get a handle on the entirety of a supply chain?”

Estrangement and Cognition

“SF is, then, a literary genre whose necessary and sufficient conditions are the presence and interaction of estrangement and cognition, and whose main formal device is an imaginative framework alternative to the author's empirical environment.”

Layering

“This is good advice, and with a bit of adaptation it can apply to many things in life. Any sort of improvisation must arise from a basic technique. And just as important, the advice understands that there’s nothing more intimidating than a pristine kitchen, a blank canvas, an empty screen.”

The Heart of the Problem

“But consider this for a moment. Perhaps once we are adequately fed, diet becomes far less significant in determining how healthy we are. Maybe almost insignificant. Could it be that when our bodies have enough macro and micro nutrients available most of the time, other determinants of health kick in. The houses we live in. The stress we are under. The pressure of financial and social inequalities. Stigma, abuse and mental illness. Social isolation. And a million other factors with the capacity to make us sick.”

Mass Authentic

“Authenticity seems to stand for the truth behind the curtain, but it is really just the curtain. The presumption that only some feelings in some situations are real, and other feelings, though felt, are somehow false, is authenticity’s main ruse.”

Stickeen: The Story of a Dog

“However great his troubles he never asked help or made any complaint, as if, like a philosopher, he had learned that without hard work and suffering there could be no pleasure worth having.”

The Early History of Smalltalk

Far more here than I could find suitable excerpts for.

The Radical Implications of Luck in Human Life

“The less credit/responsibility you believe we are due, the more you believe our trajectories are shaped by forces outside our control (and sheer chance), the more compassionate you will be toward failure and the more you will expect back from the fortunate. When luck is recognized, softening its harsh effects becomes the basic moral project.”

It’s Harder Than It Looks To Write Clearly

“Everything we write is, in a sense, translated from another language, from the chatter we hear inside our head, translated from that interior babble (more or less comprehensible to us) into (what we hope will be) the clearer, more articulate language on the page. But during the process of that translation, basic clarity often suffers—sometimes fatally!—when, for whatever reason, we feel that we are translating our natural speech into a foreign language: in other words, when we are writing.”

It Isn’t About The Technology

“Yet the decentralized Web advocates persist in believing that the answer is new technologies, which suffer from the same economic problems as the existing decentralized technologies underlying the "centralized" Web we have. A decentralized technology infrastructure is necessary for a decentralized Web but it isn't sufficient. Absent an understanding of how the rest of the solution is going to work, designing the infrastructure is an academic exercise.”

E Unibus Pluram: Television and U.S. Fiction

“For 360 minutes per diem, we receive unconscious reinforcement of the deep thesis that the most significant feature of truly alive persons is watchableness, and that genuine human worth is not just identical but rooted in the phenomenon of watching.”

If the Point of Capitalism is to Escape Capitalism, Then What’s the Point of Capitalism?

“Freedom from exploitation. Freedom from control and domination. Freedom to find, develop, and realize ourselves. The freedom to live lives which really sear us with meaning, purpose, and fulfillment — instead of being crushed with anxiety, bruised by competitiveness, and suffused with fear. So here is the real question. If these are things we are really after — why don’t we just give them to one another?”

The Lax Habits of the Free Imagination

“The lax habits of the free imagination exhibit an appealing open-door policy. But to counterbalance this extreme permissiveness, the celestial process had better employ some sort of disciplinarian, an enforcer, to maintain order. Where else does the famous restraint and brevity of the short story come from? In other words, there must be a plan, an outline. Mustn't there?“

Superintelligence: The Idea That Eats Smart People

“It's fun to think about, interesting, and completely inaccessible to experiment given our current technology. You can build crystal palaces of thought, working from first principles, then climb up inside them and pull the ladder up behind you. People who can reach preposterous conclusions from a long chain of abstract reasoning, and feel confident in their truth, are the wrong people to be running a culture.”

I’m Broke and Friendless and I’ve Wasted My Whole Life

“When you’re curious about your shame instead of afraid of it, you can see the true texture of the day and the richness of the moment, with all of its flaws. You can run your hands along your own self-defeating edges until you get a splinter, and you can pull the splinter out and stare at it and consider it.”

Mistakes About The Meaning Of Life

“Noting this close relationship between meaningfulness and value is important, since it allows us to draw many implications that can be helpful for people who consider their lives insufficiently meaningful.”

[citruspeel]

to gold be the gory

How Golden Kamuy Outshines Competition

A Review

-

“GORUDEEEEEEN KAMUUUUUUY!”

That’s how I first heard of Golden Kamuy – a male voice screaming its title in around 2-minute intervals. I was busy slurping ramen in the communal eating tent in Odori Park when it blared in my ear. All through the day, they played its trailer on the tent TVs over and over again. It seemed interesting, and it was quite apt to see it being promoted there - after all, we were surrounded by snow, in Hokkaido, where the story was set. I kept seeing it in bookstores and its artwas eye-catching. But as soon as I was back on home soil, my interest was gone.

Life caught right back up with me, so I forgot about Golden Kamuy completely. Not until I saw some artists I follow post amazing fan art of it on Twitter. They were all singing it praises and the official art was beautiful, so I thought, ‘aw heck, why not?’

Let me tell you: there are no reasons not to.  

SUGIMOTO, THIS ISN’T SHOUNEN ANYMORE

I’m what you call a…sporadic manga reader. I’m not up to speed with manga trends and it can take me a while to catch up. I read stuff that get my attention and when they’re recommended by my friends (I still haven’t touched Boku no Hero Academia or Shokugeki no Soma, though). I also don’t limit myself to just one genre. There are months that I devour shoujo/josei manga, like Hana Nochi Hare and Dame na Watashi ni Koi wo Kudasai. Then I’d switch over to read through volumes upon volumes of shounen manga (hi, Gintama, Haikyuu). Then there are periods wherein I just don’t read at all, devoting my time to other activities instead.  

Golden Kamuy, brainchild of artist Noda Satoru, is probably my first real foray into the seinen manga territory. The art, the storyline, the comedy, the stakes – every page told me that I wasn’t reading shounen anymore. Dick jokes weren’t dealt with caution. Gore was done with no shame. Raw Japanese scans didn’t have the hiragana reading aids. Strangely enough, it brought me back to all the titles I used to read when I was young. It made me realize all the stuff I was reading back then were very edgelord-esque and middle-school-syndrome-ish - the stuff of nightmares. Body horror, violence, gore, debauchery – CLAMP and Kaori Yuuki had primed my teenage self for all of them.

But at least, now, the edginess was dealt with a more mature hand.  

Hence it was no surprise that Kamuy ignited a sense of familiarity. I had mellowed down when I grew up (it saddens me that I really am quite a grown-up now) and, in turn, settled for fun, cheerful, romantic manga (to keep the dreariness of everyday life away, I guess haha). I got used to leisurely pacing and lighthearted comedy. Reading Golden Kamuy felt like I skydived into the unforgiving arena I had left – an arena that had been made fresher, better.  

SO FRESH, YOU’RE EATING IT RAW

What makes Kamuy an instant hit is its interesting combination of rarely-used elements. Post-War, Meiji-Era historical, early 1900s, hunting, Hokkaido, Ainu culture: can you really find another title that uses said mix? It’s no wonder people are attracted to the series.  

It also helps that the art is just spectacular. Noda’s artistic skill shines through every page, chapter, and volume cover. His poses are dynamic, his coloring brave. Sometimes the color combinations he uses just scream modern, serving as nice contrasts to the story’s historical, traditional setting. His character designs are unique and fresh – more so their personalities. Sugimoto’s facial scars are refreshing to the eye; Tsurumi’s half-corrupted face paired with a metal plate is a design I’ve never seen before. His art style brings out his designs to life in a way only he can – we’ve all seen cross-dressing men and shaved-bald convicts before, but still he was able to make Ienaga and Shiraishi look striking.

The research that he has done to make the story believable is commendable. He even has his own Ainu and Russian language consultants. Each detail he adds in shows that every page is a product of hard work. He even features real buildings in Hokkaido and Otaru (I’ve also been to Otaru and it was nice to see it in the manga!). The information we learn from Noda’s usage of the Ainu culture, hunting practices, and military details – all of this, weaved in with an intricate, explosive plot, give us a series that feels…whole. Complete.

Kamuy also spreads word about the Ainu culture in a fun and entertaining way. I haven’t heard a lot about them in the series I’ve encountered – I’ve only heard of them through Rurouni Kenshin. Nothing since then. To see them in the spotlight is a breath of fresh air. Even the Ainu themselves feel the same way – apparently they told Noda that they didn’t want to be portrayed as discriminated anymore. They wanted strong Ainu characters, and boy, did Noda deliver.

NO-PARDON PLOTTING

Because of its seinen status, you can tell that Noda has no qualms about plotting and story structure. We’re given heavy-hitting story elements right off the bat: war vet undertakes a legendary treasure hunt to help the (stolen-by-his-friend) love of his life, requiring him to track down 24 of the most dangerous insane criminals to have ever walked Japan. It’s throwing punches right from the get-go. Kamuy doesn’t baby anyone (except for bear cubs). With its pacing, convoluted plot and bevy of interesting characters, it challenges the reader to not just enjoy, but to keep up. It’s unapologetic in everything that it does – character, story, and art.  

CHARACTERS

Immortal War Vet, Morality Pet Minority Action Girl, Escape Sweet-tooth King, and so forth. They somehow fulfill stereotypes but at the same time, Noda manages to twist things to a whole new light. His milieu, too, aids in solidifying the characters he writes – the setting itself makes them unforgettable.  

It is also in his cast that we see how unapologetic Noda is. Considering that Sugimoto is to track 24 of the most dangerous criminals in the country, Noda doesn’t shy away from showcasing every kind of evil that can exist within humans. We tackle lust, greed, wrath, and avarice with a dash more reality compared to the caricatures we often see in shounen manga. Those faint of heart and innocent countenance will have a hard time stomaching Noda’s cast as it unfolds. The more I read, the more I believe Noda probably has a subscription to the Crime Investigation channel (which isn’t necessarily a bad thing). Truth be told, humans are very much capable of evil, and I’m not surprised that some of his villains are actually modeled after real-life criminals.

Notable characters:

IENAGA  - a cross between Erszebet Bathory (a countess who was known to kill virgins and bathed in their blood to remain beautiful) and of H.H. Holmes, a real-life owner of an actual murder hotel in the US during the 19th century. Ienaga’s first dungeon appearance made me flashback to some of mangaka Kaori Yuki’s ornate gorefests such as Count Cain, Angel Sanctuary, and Ludwig Revolution. Noda felt no shame when he drew each and every one of Ienaga’s murderscapes. 

HENMI KAZUO – this one really made me blink when I was reading it. Serial killer Henmi Kazuo is an exploration of the depths of human depravity. Imagine, being stimulated by gore and the act of clinging to life the same way his brother did when a bear ate him. Damn, writing that sentence made me realize Noda just straight up doesn’t baby his audience. This is the stuff Netflix series Mindhunter would kill to have. This also would really need some real guts (pardon the pun) to execute.

SHITON – he also made me stop in my tracks. Shiton, a full-on bestiality-practicing scientist, was something I’ve never read about in any other manga at all. I’ve read about murderers and criminals and incestuous personalities (Kaori Yuki and George RR Martin weren’t shy about it at all), but this character was just sick. He’s a special type of crazy (although to be perfectly honest I am sure that somewhere in the world some sick human is partaking in stuff like this), and for Noda to actually use him in his manga just takes courage. He just has the balls to make you think twice, but hey, when you’re in seinen territory, everything seems to be a free-for-all. And let’s be real frank here – there’s just another level of human debauchery in real life that most people won’t even be able to stomach hearing about.  

TSURUMI – Tsurumi is the stuff of legend. He reminds me the most of Col. Hans Landa in Quentin Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds, but with his insanity turned up into eleven. He also has shades of Leonardo’s character in Django Unchained, as well as other manic-type ‘villains’ that we’ve seen in other series. But his impulsiveness and flamboyant nature places him a cut above the rest. Noda also draws him so dynamically (seriously!) that whenever he appears, your eyes are just drawn to him.  

Plus, I have to say that I’m really impressed with the level of real-world research that Noda uses in developing his characters. Tsurumi says that he has lost a part of his frontal lobe, which in turn affects his temper and his violent tendencies. This is actually true in real life, and has been seen in a high-profile murder case involving a famous football player in the United States. Because of the repetitive head injuries that the player received playing the sport, his own personality/temper had changed, and resulted him in killing his girlfriend in cold blood.

Of course we have the holy trinity of Sugimoto (classic lovable romantic badass war vet protagonist), Asirpa (butt-kicking girl-child) and Shiraishi (adorable slinky/comic relief), all gems in their own right. Noda has endeared them to us with the heartwarming dynamic between Sugimoto + Asirpa, plus Shiraishi’s antics. Character-wise, they seem to follow a specific trio formula that works in almost anything. Harry-Hermione-Ron, Gintoki-Kagura-Shinpachi, Naruto-Sakura-Sasuke. While his main character trio wins people over, his supporting cast can also shine bright on their own. Some great examples that come to mind are Ogata, Tanigaki, and Monkey-Scream Guy Otonoshin (even Tsukishima is memorable! He even has the Voldemort nose, doesn't he?).

Noda’s principle of mixing reality with caricature is also evident in his character designs. With every cast member we meet, it’s clear that Noda is far from being a sufferer of the six-faces-only syndrome. His designs do sometimes border on the impossible (Monkey-Scream guy’s eyebrows, really?), but it’s not a bad thing. If anything, it makes the visual experience of reading the comic even more worthwhile.  

THE ART

Noda is a great manga artist. Let’s start with that.  

Just look at these covers!

This coloring + color schemes!

This character design!!

I’ve been raving about his character designs for a few paragraphs now but it’s just really that good. I love his eye for composition and his impeccable framing for action and comedy. I’ve always thought that framing comics need special planning – especially action + comedy ones. You have to ensure that the first thing the reader sees in the next panel will make the action/joke understandable and clear. It takes great skill to decide what the reader sees and doesn’t see. Through Golden Kamuy’s 158 chapters, he makes use of this skill to make us laugh whenever Asirpa’s badgering them to make citatap, or when there’s a new animal part to eat, or when Tanigaki’s out showing nudes of himself to people. If the pages weren’t framed well, the jokes would’ve fallen flat. Let’s also not forget his adeptness in drawing facial expressions. This manga just does faces so well.  

(Just look at Asirpa! collage c/o the Golden Kamuy reddit)

His fight scenes are also top-notch. You just know that Noda, as a mangaka, isn’t knocking about. The flow of action in every page is just downright superb. It also shows his mastery of human anatomy – and his courage when it comes to gore. His use of crisp blacks and whites, solid lineart, thick, expressive color give us pages that are fresh and clean...I’d be a fool to dismiss his technique, because his (and his studio’s, I guess?) skill just shines through every page.

He’s also not shy when it comes to details – which is admirable. After all, it takes some great dedication for someone to give his main character distinct facial scars that will require repeated drawings in almost every single page (and give his heroine a detailed headband). It makes me wonder just how he does it with a weekly schedule. His color pages look like they were done digitally, but I still have doubts whether or not he does his chapters by hand.  

THE HEART

It took me just a few days to wolf down Kamuy. It was a romp right from the start – nail-biting, stomach-clutching, hair-raising. A truly entertaining piece, if you will. But if there’s one thing I’ve noticed with Kamuy, it’s that it somehow lacks heart.

Don’t get me wrong – it’s great! I love it. It’s superbly crafted, beautifully drawn, amazingly detailed. It’s one of the rare titles that I’m actually thinking of collecting. But it’s also a title that seems to drip technique. Like the author made it for the sake of drawing an intense, gripping title, but somehow solely for that purpose. It’s a career-conscious showcase of ability, a manufactured adventure in the truest sense. I couldn’t see the earnestness I found in Sorachi Hideaki’s Gintama, or the relatability of Nakahara Aya’s  Dame na Watashi wo Koishite Kudasai. Full Metal Alchemist showed Arakawa Hiromu’s passion for muscled men, her interest in alchemy, and views on family, while Haruichi Furudate’s love for volleyball, sportsmanship and camaraderie is undeniable in Haikyuu!!. While I do like the backstory that Sugimoto is somehow based on his real-life war-vet grandfather, I find it a bit sad that it seems to lack that personal touch I’ve always liked seeing in other manga.

But it doesn’t mean that it’s not great. I will still recommend it to everyone I know. Awesome story, great art, refreshing comedy. By all means, read it! (Not sure about the anime, but I keep hearing reviews that we’re better off with the manga). Golden Kamuy is a title of both style and substance – whether it’s about the gore or the gold, I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.  

Then let me know if you agree with my upcoming post, an analysis of Sugimoto and Asirpa.

Photos c/o reddit + our lovely scanlators + Satoru Noda

[idreamtofmanderleyagain]

How Not To Write Villains (and Antiheroes) In Romantic Fics

I’ve been in Villain fandom for a while and honestly, there are some common issues I’ve seen crop up in our romantic fanfic that I really feel need addressing. I’m interested in the methods with which we write these kinds of stories, and I find myself frustrated with the repeated destructive tropes that show up in the fic I try to read. 

So here’s a few of those tropes, why I think they happen, and some alternative suggestions to help writers avoid falling into these traps. I’m using gendered language here because these are the particular iterations I see most regularly (and some of them are specific to systemic sexism and dysfunction in M/F relationships), however some of these thoughts could of course apply across the board.

Mr. Grimdark

This guy shows up when the author’s main concern/anxiety centers around “keeping him in character.” There’s a lot of villain fangirls out there who are really worried that they’re going to get criticized for writing their villain too “OOC” and nice. They want to capture a tone of “realism,” and so they inadvertently write him monstrous beyond what canon even depicts him as. This guy is an abuser despite the villain canonically showing no domestically abusive tendencies. He doesn’t believe in love, and/or thinks emotions are a weakness even if there’s no evidence of this in canon. He’s willing to subject the heroine through endless cruelties, often above and beyond what he’s done in canon.

Mr. Grimdark is a mistake when it comes to writing a villain in romantic contexts. It’s not worth sacrificing the stability of the romantic narrative just because you are afraid to push the boundaries of canon characterization. I’d rather read a slightly OOC villain who treats the heroine with respect (even when he hates her or is working against her), than one who’s constantly subjecting her to extreme cruelty (and who’s OOCness is pretty much just skewed in the opposite direction TBH).

Sometimes Mr. Grimdark also shows up when the author is particularly fond of heavy angst and drama, or wants to involve more character drama in her fic, or is trying to write a Slow Burn or Enemies to Lovers plot. It’s important to learn how to identify the difference between constructive drama and destructive drama. Ask yourself why the dramatic tension is happening. Interrogate your methods. Is it aiding the character’s overall arcs? How will it effect their relationship? How does it help me build towards my narrative goals? How do I believably bring my characters back together after this moment of conflict? Does this moment reflect real-world domestic abuse dynamics? What does this moment say about who these characters are?

A lot of this lies in identifying how to depict villainy without crossing over into mirroring real-world domestic abuse, stalking, etc.

How and why does your villain wield power? 

You can write a bad guy in love without writing an extremely toxic situation. I promise, you don’t have to sacrifice romance in the name of “realism.”

The Womanizer

The Womanizer crops up when the author wants to make her villain extra sexy. She’s trying to depict a seductive rogue who’s main goal is to get the heroine into bed, but who inadvertently falls in love with her virtuousness and integrity.

What the author actually depicts is a man who’s reduced the heroine into a sexual object, another faceless conquest. Instead of being sexy, he’s a cheesy, gross Pickup Artist incapable of humanizing the heroine, let alone respecting her. The plot of the fic is suddenly transformed into his journey in discovering that women are human beings (or at least ONE woman is).

Honestly? This guy is lame. He’s a misogynist. He’s also OOC as hell in most cases. There are so many more ways of depicting a man who is seductive, and all of them center around him treating the heroine as the subject of his desire rather than the object. It’s so much more interesting and complex to see him like her and want her for who she is while dealing with the cognitive dissonance of being on the opposite side of a proverbial battlefield, and vice versa.

The Predator

The Predator is a horrifying mix of both of the above problems. He’s an abusive, cruel, misogynistic monster who’s out to torment AND/OR bed the heroine. This man has absolutely no business being one half of a romantic narrative. 

Again, it’s entirely possible to write an in-character villain who has dark aspects to him, as well as a seductive nature, all in a narrative that involves drama and conflict, WITHOUT writing an unbearable monster. 

If your villain is incapable of even empathizing with your heroine for the majority of your fic, you aren’t writing a romance.

The Nice Doppleganger

The opposite of the above problems, this guy is perfectly nice and un-challenging. He and the Heroine easily fall in love and have a relationship of no conflict whatsoever. He’s OOC and doesn’t really resemble the personality depicted in canon. The author may not realize this, or she may have done it intentionally.

This honestly isn’t a real problem if you’re doing it intentionally. By all means, play in your sandbox the way you feel like. 

However, he’s potentially a limp noodle when it comes to generating the drama, mystery, and gravitas of his canon counterpart (which are most likely the most exciting aspects of his character, which inspired you to write about him in the first place). If your interested in exploring the journey a villain takes from his canon behavior towards a romantic relationship, with this trope you’ve basically cut out the juicy parts and skipped to the ending. 

For you, that might be just what you want, and that’s fine. 

But if it isn’t, allow the material to challenge you. Don’t be afraid to explore conflict in your story that is generated between the main characters, just try to understand where the boundaries between “conflict” and “toxicity” lie.

Ask yourself why the villain intrigued you in the first place. What aspects of his personality can you utilize to keep his edge (without tipping him over into abuse)? How could those appealing dark and spooky traits translate into more (safely) seductive traits? What conflicts would arise between him and the heroine, and how can I explore them without making it destructively toxic? How can I soften him without declawing him completely? 

The key here is creative, thoughtful transformation rather than erasure. Start translating certain traits into constructive and/or romantic versions of what they once were instead of erasing them completely. Don’t change him. Change his mind.

The Emotional Knife Fight (or Heroines Can Be Abusive Too)

This one crops up when the author isn’t really sure how to depict a strong female character, or the author is writing an Enemies to Lovers plotline. She wants to show a heroine who stands up to a powerful man, who can hold her own against the villain and eventually change him/his mind. She wants to show the journey from lack of understanding to mutual understanding and empathy.

What instead happens is the heroine uses abusive language to talk down to the villain. She doesn’t truly respect his humanity because to her, his villainy eliminates his humanity. The heroine has a status of goodness and purity, and because the villain does not, toxic harm towards him is fair game.

This manifests in examples like the heroine utilizing the villain’s vulnerable emotions - which she is strangely aware of and yet unmoved by! - to cause him emotional harm. Is he the villain because he’s been betrayed? Abused? Neglected? She’ll minimize his experiences and assert that his actions cancel out the relevancy of his pain.

In return, the villain might start using the same weapons against the heroine. Alternatively, one of the above versions of the villain started this toxic dynamic.

Because the heroine can wield psychological weapons against the villain, the authoress believes she’s balanced the power between the heroine and the villain. And with the weapons these characters have used to slice into the raw parts of each other, the authoress thinks she’s depicted characters who are capable of seeing each other.

In theory, I can see why the authoress fell into this trap. She wants to write a battle of wits that results in deeper understandings. But that cannot manifest healthily if the heroine and villain are utilizing each other’s vulnerabilities to harm.

Instead, I’d like to see the battle be about mutual respect. Because the characters can see the vulnerabilities of each-other, they might use their own similar experiences to argue philosophy. They might express solidarity and use that solidarity to call each other out when they think they’re in the wrong, or to try and pull the other to their side. 

Explore a meeting of the minds like it’s an elaborate chess game, rather than a knife fight in a back alley.