can i just say she immediately became my heroine when she did this

Voltage Inc. Developer Interview – Pt. 3

It’s here! Pt. 3 of our interview with the talented M-san!

What went into Irresistible Mistakes’ development? What stories did she find particularly challenging to make? How does she feel about Scorpio and Zyglavis taking the top two spots during the Fans’ Choice Awards?!

The answers are right here, fans!

Click Keep Reading for the interview!

Pt. 1 can be found HERE and Pt. 2 can be found HERE

Scorpio contemplates life as he watches the Tokyo sunset from the office window…

Keep reading

Noble Reign

Ch.1 Mytic Messenger Middle Ages AU

|Ch. 2| |Ch. 3|

Author’s Note: It finally happened. I’m so sorry it took me such a long time to finish it, but I’m so proud to present you the Mystic Messenger Middle Ages AU! ^^ I have absolutely no idea if anyone will read this but I had so much fun writing it and I will definitely continue updating it. Keep in mind that English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes. Nevertheless, I hope y’all enjoy it. Please feel free to leave any sort of comments or message me; I would love to write some headcanons for this AU and I like to integrate your ideas as well.

I also want to give special thanks to @promiscuous-jalapeno for giving me advice and encouraging me in my writing. If you should ever read this, I hope you’ll enjoy it as well. <3

Wordcount: 3,247

“A long time ago, there existed a great kingdom that was ruled by two brothers. Their names were Jaehyun and Jaekwang.

The brothers were loved by their people and everyone lived together in harmony. But one day, Jaekwang desired the sole control over the kingdom and rebelled against his brother.

With soldiers at his command, he imprisoned his brother and spread misery across the kingdom. For a long time the kingdom was ruled by bitterness and people were living in fear.

But then, when all hope had died and the hour of doom seemed at hand, a girl appeared as if from nowhere. With fire burning in her soul and magic running through her veins, she defeated Jaekwang and freed his brother.

In anger, she divided the kingdom in half by forcing water and earth between the villages. A grand river and high mountains were now separating Jaekwang and Jaehyun.

Pleased with her work, the girl vanished and was never seen again. Over time, the two brothers created different kingdoms, one ruled by fear and one ruled by strength.

Generations passed and so did the girl’s tale. The kingdoms became enemies and the tale became legend. They say that someday, the girl will come back to reunite the kingdoms in peace and harmony again but until then the kingdoms remain in discord.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I disagree with anon. There's hating a ship, then there's hating the character itself. Even without SS, Sakura was still largely hated across the fanbase for the most shallow of reasons. Some still blame her for Neji's death. I really doubt SS expected Sakura to get shafted to this point; from what I've seen, they are just as angry and sadden by this. At the same time, I'm aware that NH (not all shipper, if they are reading!) really only "supported" SS just to get Sakura out of the way. (1)

Honestly, I never meet Sakura hate so strong from that fandom. I remembered how the majority started acting all haughty with SS after The Last, then outright dropped SS when Gaiden came out. Some were even disappointed that Karin wasn’t outright confirmed the mother and called the manga a waste. For those NH who used to “support” SS, you would think they’ll have some sympathy for their “sister” shippers? (2)

The legit hate for Sakura is honestly so incredulous to me. The only fandom I’ve been in with character hate half as strong was Kingdom Hearts with Kairi. And even then the hate was half as strong, and only within fandom. The hate died down over the years. But Sakura? The fandom, SP, SJ, assistants, editors, hate her to this point? They are absolutely okay with erasing her importance within the manga? Okay with giving Hinata everything they hated in Sakura? The interview with Kishi (3)

comparing Sakura to a secondary character, overall downgrading her importance in the manga made me sad. But the reaction from NH succeed my disappointment in Kishi, and I only felt even more bitterness towards NH and Hinata. (4)

It’s why I can never like Hinata or NH, no matter how much they try and convince me. To be happy that they aren’t force to acknowledge Sakura as a heroine? Was NS that intimidating? Was Sakura that bad? I’m sorry that this small thing turned to a rant, but I felt if Sakura (and Team 7) was in a different fandom than this one. To have hate so strong that even her own creator hates her along with the franchise? To STILL blame her for Neji? I’m just so sad that this is what she is reduced to. (5)

I only wanted better for her, but with this fandom it’s like you have to go above and beyond for her just to get that fandom to like her even a little. On top of that, deal with a franchise that wants nothing to do with her either. Yet they will put Hinata on a pedestal and call her the heroine? The franchise legitimately putting her as a main cast, when she was barely a secondary in Part 2? How did she became relevant and shoved into our face as being better than Sakura? (End)


Granted, that was/is also a factor but it’s the SS that was the fuel to NH by some sort of sick alliance, and then trying to bury every shit Kishi threw at Sakura via Sasuke because of her proximity to Naruto and the possibility of her being with Naruto in the end. But these are old shannenigans.

Granted, Sakura was hated in the fandom because of the most stupid reasons, however when it came down to comparing her with Hinata, if it weren’t for a let’s say very ardent fan of Hinata’s everyone knew and acknowledged the fact that Sakura tops Hinata no matter what. It was basic knowledge 101.

But then Studio Pierrot came and started the stealing. Sakura is a medical ninja? Everyone is a medical ninja.

Sakura has a superior chakra control, even moreso than her powerhouses of teammates? Everyone gets it.

Sakura can tell via her medical ninjutsu where it hurts in the body or it’s a certain problem? Throw that away, make Hinata tell her via her Byakugan because lol Sakura surely must’ve forgotten to do that with only medical ninjutsu via water detection, in order to force down our throats a friendship that never really was there - at most, some respect showed by Sakura to Hinata, never the viceversa. 

Some still blame her for Neji’s death because things were written as such. That was the effect they wanted. While Sakura the medical ninja couldn’t be there when Naruto called for a medic-nin, have Hinata-hime-sama be there and offer him the emotional support he needed (although via Sakura was shown to us what he really needed, but anyway). Sakura was written off at that point to make place for Hinata, all while in the meantime Studio Pierrot via their shitty interventions was already stealing everything from Sakura and giving it to Hinata. SS-ers saw that, they were here with us as well. We were already screaming about the damage control Sakura was taking because of Hinata but most of them didn’t care, as long as it took NaruSaku out of the way…

And dear boy I know I screamed right and left about this because I saw the bullshit they’re trying to pull. I don’t know exactly for how long you’re around the fandom anon, but as I said before, I came from a NH and SS background that went along with NS given the development. And also besides that, what made me distance from NH mostly was their hate for Sakura. I was a NH shipper that happened to like Sakura very much. And so, being accustomed to how these pairings function, I saw the impending shit that was about to come, and screamed about it, but who was going to listen? I was a NaruSaku, to hell with me, despite me saying multiple times that before being a NaruSaku or any other type of shipper, I am a Sakura fan. 

So you see, here it’s a mix of many elements at the middle, and sadly they did have a major contribution to this, sorry to say it. Not all of them, ofc, but…

And it was never a sister ship with them… It was an alliance against NaruSaku. That was the immediate threat to them. Everyone knew that Kishi wouldn’t have the balls to end it with NaruSasu because of the controversy (despite drawing them in also), so the next best thing was NaruSaku - especially given the story’s construction mechanisms - everything was pointing at NaruSaku, no matter how much some still want to deny it. It’s basic storytelling 101 in a piece of literature (more or less).

Hell, they even changed the story triangle. There was one always inside team 7, and now in his newest interview Kishi mentions one that was nonexistent between Naruto, Sakura and Hinata. He literally took all the things that NH were fantasizing about and used them as “logical explanation” when his own story was contradicting him.

And yes, for some stupid reason people hated Sakura because Kishimoto pulled at the heart strings of people with poor orphan Naruto, but God forbid someone points Naruto’s horrible behavior, they must be linched - which Sakura does at the beginning of the story. Naruto was after all a pretty stupid kid that did stupid things. Yes, he had ulterior motives, but does that excuse his behavior? If we cannot excuse the behavior of one, why excuse his, know what I mean? 

And also people aren’t used to look at the broader picture because somehow … reasons. Yes, Sakura told him all those things, but at the same time supported him and his stupid dream with her love for Sasuke and her “horrible” behavior still did much more than Hinata with her love for Naruto.  But then people come with the excuse that she was shy. So we can excuse Hinata of her shyness for NOT helping Naruto when he most needed it, but we cannot excuse Sakura for expressing her pissed self at Naruto whenever he did something stupid DESPITE ACTIVELY doing stuff for him? Hmm, I smell double standards.

And yes, it’s funny how when they take stuff from Sakura and add them to Hinata everyone is okay, because it’s Hinata. This only once more shows the double standards and hipocrisy that lies deep within the collective counsciousness of this very fandom.

And, after all, it’s not the fandom’s fault as much as it is Kishi’s and how he never put his finger on something for certain, out of God knows what reasons… I can only speculate, but some are for certain - he doesn’t have a backbone.

From defending fiercely your heroine to actively replacing her… pfft. Laughable.

If he would’ve had a backbone he would’ve finished the story properly. You know how they say “Stand for what you believe in, even if you stand alone”.

Something he tried pushing with Naruto, too bad he failed miserably.

I wanted better for her too, and actually trusted Kishi he will do better. I created theories about where he’d be going with her, things that eventually come to fruition (her seal, chakra nature and some others), but the thing that disgusted me the most about this was seeing some things that were clearly going to go to Sakura, being used for Hinata, dare I say some ideas I layed down in my theories, being used now, via other means.

At first I thought it’s me being crazy, they couldn’t possibly use that… and then the latest chapter of Boruto comes and they use for him what the NS fandom creates for Shinachiku. 

To answer your question - yes, NaruSaku was that intimidating. That intimidating that they cannot erase 15 years of development, that they now try to steal ideas from the NS fans to burrow us as deep as possible because otherwise we won’t shut up, that bad of an intimidation, that they make it so defiant to NaruSaku fans, so that we’ll eventually shut up and stop being the thorns in their back.

Well, too bad. We’re here and we’re staying. They can steal how much they want. The records showing that we were there with ideas and whatnot long before them it’s here.

For someone who writes about Gods and whatnot, Kishi and his editors should know about the Akashic records. They’re imprinted in the human collective counsciousness, and no matter how much they want to silence and erase Sakura and NaruSaku, they can’t.

And this only pushed me to continue my initial analysis on Sakura’s character. Ohoo, it’s going to be so much fun to demask all the bullshit mechanism behind their actions. SO MUCH FUN!

Anyway, I turned this into a rant and went into deeper stuff myself, I should probably end it here. But yeah, this thing is a mess. A salad, to be more exact. ;)

Thee rak (Part Two)

Wordcount: 3.769

Genre: Fluff / Slice of Life

BamBam x Reader
Description: BamBam changes hair colour as much as he does with girls or clothes. However, there’s one thing that will never change: for him, you’ll always be his “Thee rak”.


Y/N: Here’s the new chapter, sorry if It’s a bit slow but I don’t want to rush since I have to develop characters and relationships. Thanks so much to all the people who read, liked or reblogged the first part! You’ve been really sweet! ^^ As always, If someone wants to tell me its opinion you’re more than welcome; for a writer, words of encouragement or how to improve are always appreciated ^^

Hope you enjoy it!

P.S.: Give a lot of love to that small sweet bean of BamBam, he deserves it so much

Part OnePart Three

When you met again, Bambam’s hair was purple.

Perfectly straight, parted on the left side and a pretty little blondie tightened at his arm toyed with his earrings whispering how much she loved that colour on him because “It perfectly describes your soul, believe me!” –which meant she belonged to the literature class, poetry course probably; or she thought that the only way to steal his heart was the sweetness- whatever it was, you rolled your eyes and badly suffocated a laugh, shaking your head before going back to your reading.

Keep reading

Scent and memory

(And here’s the piece…) 

My earliest memories are of scent. The corner shop in which I was born, with its atmosphere of fresh cardboard and old newspapers, and the coal fire that smoked, and the cellar in which my grandfather kept potatoes and pickles and home-brewed wine. The scent of the Mustela baby lotion that my mother used on my skin, and which she always brought home from France. The blue-green reek of the tidal flats on the island of Noirmoutier, where my family had a house; and which to me was the smell of the sea, so that every other coast seemed to me to be missing some essential ingredient.

Scent awakens memory; it speaks to the other senses; it seems to exist outside of time; it sometimes even awakens the dead. My grandfather’s pipe tobacco, Clan, has such a sweet and distinctive scent that, twenty years after his death, it still evokes his presence. And its colour is a faded red, like the fisherman’s smock he used to wear when we went sailing together, and the colour still smells of sunshine, and wind, and a hundred happy memories.

To me, most scents have colours. It’s a form of synaesthesia, in which the brain confuses stimuli, converting sounds to shapes, or sounds, or tastes, giving colours to days of the week, or in my case, converting colours to scent, so that sometimes I find it difficult to separate one from the other. Perhaps this is why, in my house, there are so many brightly-coloured things; and why I always like to keep my favourite perfumes close by, alongside my books and my paintings.

Perfume is my greatest indulgence. Not chocolate, not shoes, but bottles of scent; dozens - no, hundreds - of bottles, each one containing a genie that, when uncorked, can work everyday miracles of memory and mood. Some perfumes are little capsules of time; like the Ô de Lancôme I wore the year I first met my husband – I was sixteen, at sixth-form college - and its colour is the same bright-green as the pullover I used to wear, a fresh and vibrant citrus scent that still brings back those happy days more clearly than a photograph. Or Guerlain’s Chamade, with its dark chypre base, which I wore at university – being an impoverished student then, I couldn’t afford the eau de parfum, but used the bath oil as perfume instead and thought myself very sophisticated. Or Yves Rocher’s Ispahan, which somehow smells of our first home, a rather run-down terrace house, with colourful murals on the walls and a perpetual fog of patchouli and frankincense.

Our sense of smell is the first of our senses to develop. As infants, it is the sense of smell that first connects us to the world. I remember, in the maternity ward, when my daughter was born, holding her – just a few hours old – up to a vase of freesias standing by the bedside. Her reaction was immediate; her little head turned; her mouth opened in an immediate and instinctive desire to explore and to experience.

As adults, we can too often become jaded by the multitude of sense–impressions coming at us all the time. Traffic, televisions, radios, billboards, mobile phones, the constant comings and goings of other people – all can contribute to a sensory overload that can lead to stress and confusion.

But close your eyes, relax, and the sense of smell comes back into its own. Scent speaks directly to the subconscious, sometimes evoking whole scenes that even photographs cannot convey. It has strong emotional associations, too; often linked with memory. Nothing brings back the past like a scent; nothing speaks so clearly and directly to the heart.

             I once held a writing seminar in a women’s prison near my home. The women were all different ages and from wildly different backgrounds; at first I struggled to find a way to engage their creativity. Then I asked: “What smells do you miss?” Each reply was a story. By the end of the day, I had poetry; short fiction; essays; letters to the dead. The next time I came, I brought perfume samples. In that sterile and utilitarian environment, each one was like an oasis.

             Another time, a friend of mine suffered a stroke that left her completely paralysed, unable to speak or to swallow. I knew she dreamed of food and drink, so I brought her the closest things I could find; fruit-scented lip salves from the Body Shop; pomegranate bath bombs from Lush; chocolate-scented lotions to rub into her hands and feet. On her birthday, I made her a virtual birthday cake – a cocktail of scents in a bottle. I used dark chocolate, Kahlua, cinnamon and black pepper. It was inedible, but smelt divine. She kept it by her bed for six months, until she was be able to eat again – in spite of her doctor’s prediction that this might never happen. Such is the positive power of scent and the energy it can harness.  

I first became aware of perfumes through my great-Aunt Marie, an elegant old Parisienne, who had once known Chagall and Edith Piaf, and who until the day she died, always dressed in pink and white, and never wore any perfume other than Chanel Number 5. I remember the glass-stoppered bottle that stood on her dressing-room table, and the scent of impossible flowers, like something out of a distant dream. She was the one who taught me that scent is the oldest magic there is; a scent can change your identity; can bring back the ghosts of long-lost loves; like a fairy godmother, transform the most timid of wallflowers into a heroine, just for one night. Chanel Number 5 still brings her back, and she was the one who encouraged me to haunt perfume departments, to collect samples and bath oils, to discover the scents that would help me express my personality.

Nowadays, I tend to use scent much as I would my wardrobe. I have so many bottles that my husband bought me a cabinet as a gift, in which I keep all my perfume bottles, neatly categorized and ready to use. The top shelf is for gourmand fragrances, with their notes of gingerbread; vanilla; honey and chocolate. Muegler’s Angel; Rochas’ Tocade; Kurkadjian’s Absolue du Soir. The second is for florals; Chanel no. 19; Fracas; Trésor; Paris. The third, for herbal and citrus scents; Jo Malone’s Lime Basil; Acqua de Parma; Guerlain’s Mitsouko. The bottom shelf is for orientals: Habit Rouge; Coromandel; L’Autre; the lovely creamy sandalwood of Chanel’s Bois des Iles.

Every morning I choose a scent according to my mood. Wistful; exuberant; romantic; brave. Some days I look for an old friend; on other days I need a breath of fresh air. When I’m writing a new book, I often choose a scent on behalf of my protagonist. I wear it much in the same way that method actors sometimes use scent to get into character. Vianne Rocher was Aqua de Parma; Blueeyedboy was l’Heure Bleue; the seductive Zozie de l’Alba was scented with Guerlain’s Habit Rouge. The book I’m writing right now smells of a new Chanel perfume, Boy: a light and lovely unisex blend of lavender and vanilla, with which I’ve recently become more than a little obsessed.

For me, the most important aspect of attraction has always been about feeling good. There is a tangible radiance to well-being that no cosmetic can duplicate. That’s why I tend to give more thought to the scent I wear than to clothes or makeup, or even shoes. My wardrobe is made up of bottles, neatly lined up in my scent cabinet. Some are old friends; some, new discoveries. Each one fits me perfectly, tailored to my changing moods.

My little black dress is Coromandel; I wear it with heels and attitude. My sexy number is Bois des Iles, with its creamy sandalwood scent. Francis Kurkadjian’s Acqua Universalis is my favourite pair of jeans; almost, but not quite unisex, fresh and informal and effortless. I wear Fracas when I want to turn heads; with its blast of tuberose, it’s my strapless Oscar frock. Yves Rocher’s Ispahan is the hippy dress I can’t bear to throw out; I still have half a bottle (it’s now sadly discontinued) that I wear on special occasions. Houbigant’s Chantilly is there in the mornings for when I want to feel sixteen again. I wore it throughout my teenage years, and it always takes me back.

Besides, at 52, whatever I wear, it’s getting less and less likely that people will say in all honesty: “You look fabulous.” But very often, people do say (as did a grumpy Head Porter on a recent trip to my old college, startled out of his apathy by a passing whiff of Guerlain’s Samsara); “You smell fabulous.” Because beauty isn’t about how you look, but how you make other people feel. And whatever can make a Head Porter smile, on a dull autumn day in Cambridge, is surely a power to conjure with.



It’s party time

(I’m watching, pausing, and rebutting so I will put times down)

0:03 Moultrie Flag lookalike on an anti-South vid. Hmm
0:18 Twitter handle is @ notaxation but he has no sympathy for secession
2:58 Not the Stars and Bars

This is
3:07 Yes, some Southern States have Confederate symbols in their flags. Only one has the battle flag, Mississippi, and it was kept in 2001 in a popular referendum. Georgia is based on the 1st national flag after dropping the battle flag in 2001 and that piece of crap Barnes flag in 2003
3:50 Of course all those things are entwined to Southern Culture. The WBTS was our watershed moment. We lost nearly a fifth of our able bodied white males between the ages of 18-45. A bit of a big deal.
4:04 With all due respect, you aren’t one of us. Your family roots do not stem down here. Many southerners whose family have been here for generations have an ancestor or many that fought and/or died for Dixie. It makes the waqr more personal when your flesh and blood was involved. As a Yankee, our culture is not your culture. You are an outsider looking in. Your opinion is yours, but it must be put in perspective.
5:01 You may have studied history, but not culture. Surprised that we revere our heroes? In the capital of our former country? Please.
5:20 Let’s play what if for a bit. What if, in the Revolutionary War, the 13 colonies seceded from Britain, and Britain kept a garrison on Long Island. No one is shooting yet, but the Continental Congress tells London that Long Island is part of New York and the garrison must leave. In response, the Royal Navy sends supplies like food and ammo, as if they aren’t going to leave anytime soon, because “the colonists can’t secede! the is no legal precedence!”. Should Hancock and Franklin let an important harbor sit under foreign guns?or is this an act of aggression?
5:24 Bless your heart
Ah, the “T” word. Traitorous to whom? DC? Before the WBTS, the United States was plural. “The United States are” not “is”. It was common at the time to fell more attached to your home state than any federal entity. The men who followed their home states were traitors in the Federal regard, but they followed their hearts and consciences.
7:09 C U R R E N T Y E A R
7:33 Military History Visualized has a good video on why that may not be the case
8:05 Wow, this came later than one would think! Time to break out my favorite questions to Yankees: 1) Do you know what the Corwin Amendment is? 2) Why should I give the moral high ground to a nation that originally would have that as the 13th amendment? 3) Why were the last slaves set free in Union states?
4) Do you know that Davis was wiling to trade slavery for international recognition? 5) Did you know that multiple times Lincoln tried to stop the war by promising the South it could keep her slaves as long as she returned to Federal rule?
8:33 Profanity aside, let us remember our dead. I am not asking you to put a Dixie flag in NYC, nor a statue of Davis in Manhattan , but don’t tell us what to do. Yankees have a hard time with this concept.
9:10 An institution that was still in practice in the North. It wasn’t as explicit, but if I had a significant other leave me to inject black tar heroin in her eyeballs all day every day, but I only did it once a week in between my toes (welding school gave me the weirdest metaphors), am I innocent, or still an addict? And point 2, the WBTS was as much about,slavery as the revolution was about taxes: Yes in the beginning, but if in 1779, King George III said, “OK, you can have representation!” (which had been floated), would Massachusetts and New Hampshire have said, “Cool! We don’t want independence anymore!”? By a certain point the war goals shifted and slavery was on the table for international recognition.
11:36 Yes, it was unnecessary, but only because YOU WOULDN’T LET US LEAVE. The South did not want war, and she took her shot at peaceful secession. Going back to the point above about your sovereignty being threatened by a foreign base in your territory, Fort Sumter was unfortunate but no self respecting nation would allow such uninvited trouble.
12:22 O he mad
12:30  Credit where credit is due, the immediate aftermath of the war, the Yankees did try to be reconcilable. That lasted until the 1960s, when the civil Rights movement made the South the target of ire. Right or wrong, it snowballed until the safest punching bag is Southern stereotypes. Trailer trash, redneck, Bubba and Cleetus, Nascar and beer, all became available comedy gold. Never mind the South hasn’t fully recovered from our “””liberation”””, the rampant opioid epidemic in Appalachia, the poverty, lack of worker’s rights to make cheap goods for the Yankees. Naw, let’s just make fun and talk down to them while destroying their monuments and telling them how awful their ancestors were, and act all shocked when they start to cling harder to the shreds we haven’t gotten to yet, and accuse them of being sectarian. Good idea /s Now I mad.
12:51 We had moved on, until now. The flag and statues have always been there, but only now is it an issue.
13:15 Addressed above
13:31 Then don’t. They ain’t your heroes, they’re ours, and we shall honor them as we wish, bluebelly.
13:38 I had kin fight under the leadership of Lee and Beauregard, so yes it is. If your grandpappy was under Patton in Europe, I’m sure you;d take pride in that. Men who love their commanders fell that pride, and it is passed down to their offspring.
13:42 It’d be just as easy to separate the US from Washington.
14:10 No, because those men had an impact on Richmond history
15:30  Oh the horror! Benjamin practiced law in Britain!
15:37 Mad again!
17:11 Louisiana not Georgia
18:28 Breaking news! Grunts die more often than staff officers. More at 11
19:14 Why couldn’t they go to the safe North? Oh yeah, the Yankees didn’t want them up there.
19:37 Some union officers owned slaves too. Oh, what Yankees can get away with!
20:02 Victim blaming! Triggered!
21:08 He was Chief Traitor to all us traitors!
21:11 I admire your passion, just needs some alignment
21:14 Then don’t argue. In the famous words of Davis “All we want is to be let alone”
21:33 The town square makes sense to me
21:40 The former
21:50 Our courthouse in my hometown has a statue on the front lawn, but it’s not of Lee or Davis, but a single Johnny Reb. It is dedicated to the men of our county that fought and bled for the South. You had a problem honoring the higher-ups, can we honor those who were us, among us, and part of us? Or were they rebel, traitorous scum to?
21:54 The main difference between the Rebs and the colonists was foreign intervention. Without France, we’d still have a monarch. Without Europe, the CSA was toast. Let’s not discount that the North was war weary in 1864, and McClellan wanted a white peace. 2 options for Southern victory.
22:28 No, how about I don’t
23:06 That’s just like, your opinion, man
23:29 So they are holy and righteous because they kept the stripped banner? You admit there were Union slave states. So does that make the Union evil too?
23:36 Ah, there in lies the rub. You can do whatever as long as you wear blue and not grey. Gotcha!
23:55 I’m down to clown if you are
And scene.

Basically, this is another Yankee telling us how to run our affairs. I’m beyond sick of it, tbh. You don’t want a statue, a flag, a road, whatever named after a Confederate hero, fine. I don’t know why the North would, but let us have it. The South is a different place than the North, thank God, but we don’t try to push our ways of life on them. They want things we disagree with, fine, but we we have things they disagree with, it’s their “““““moral obligation”““““ to set us straight. I can’t recount the number of times people online say they will “drag us into the 21st century kicking and screaming”. Seeing what the future looks like right now. I’ll hang back in the 1800s if you please, where up is up and left isn’t right. Usually, Mr Moriarty has good videos that I agree with. this ain’t one of them. @scconfederate @dixieblr-official @ any Southern patriot, if I missed anything or you want to add, please do. One doe not become a Southern apologist without having to know ones’ stuff, and this helps sharpen my arsenal for debates with Yankees over the WBTS. Thanks, and y’all have a blessed day!

Creepypasta #492: The Watcher

You know what they say. Children have overactive imaginations. Well, some of them say that children are just ‘more attuned to the paranormal’, but that’s bullshit.

What I’m about to tell you isn’t bullshit. It really happened.

My name is Jake. When I was a youngling, I was always ill at ease. I was always looking over my shoulder. I would always check under my bed and inside my closet before I went to sleep. I believed then (and I still do) that the only thing that we know for certain is what’s right in front of our eyes. And even our eyes can sometimes play tricks on us.

My mother would always tell me the same thing. There’s nothing under your bed, sweetheart. Go to sleep. But I knew she was wrong. I could feel it. A presence. A gentle breeze or a shadow moving in the periphery of my vision. I could feel it watching me, in my bed, while I did my homework, as I watched TV. Lurking in the dark corners of my room. Hiding, ever present, always just out of sight. Watching.

I wasn’t crazy. I was just observant.

Kids are always scared about having monsters under their bed, but for my parents, my absolute conviction was too much. I begged them, I pleaded with them to believe me. But it was no good. They took me to a psychiatrist. Take these twice a day, she said. Take them with some water, she said. I complied, knowing it wouldn’t make the monster go away. This thing didn’t care how many pills I swallowed.

I was never able to get a good look at it. But here’s what I assumed at the time: it must have been very tall, as it often watched me for long periods through my second-floor bedroom window, with relative ease. It must have been thin, spindly and flexible, because it was able to compress itself into very small spaces. And it must have been very fast, because it was always able to escape my eyes. It was always able to hide itself, just as I turned my head.

Both of my parents worked during the day, and I would get home from school to an ‘empty’ house. It would stalk me especially hard then. The hairs on the back of my neck would prickle. I would feel it behind me. I’d spin around, but it would dart out of sight, just at that moment.

One evening, I snapped.

Keep reading

Just Tonight - CS Christmas Fic - Chapter 3

I wrote this fic a couple of year’s ago now and I’ve decided to repost a chapter a day (there’s five) for those that haven’t read it/want to read it again and then I’m going to post a new oneshot sequel entitled, ‘Just Forever’.

Synopsis:  A night of unexpected passion leads to something infinitely more precious between two friends who don’t realise the hidden depths of affection each has for the other. Romance/Angst and a little bit of Christmas fluffiness…eventually.

Rating: T

Read Chapter 1 , Chapter 2


The crisp fresh snow crunched loudly under his feet as Killian made his way steadily along the sidewalk.

He pulled the collar of his thick, black woollen coat up a little further to try and ward off the chill then shifted the brown paper wrapped package he carried to a more comfortable position under his arm.

There were few people out on the streets of Storybrooke, the weather and it being Christmas Eve meant that they were more than likely sitting in front of warm fires with their loved ones.

He’d only arrived back in the country that morning. His flight out of England had been delayed a couple of days due to inclement weather. In the end he’d accepted the first flight out but had then had to get a further connecting flight to ensure he reached Maine. One rental car later he’d finally made it home and had dumped his bags in his apartment before heading out into the freezing cold again.

He couldn’t wait to see Emma.

They hadn’t spoken during his absence, just exchanged a couple of text messages to ensure the other was okay…as all friends do.

Except they weren’t anymore. Not really. They’d crossed a line now. He could no more forget that night than he could his own name. He’d been devastated when he’d awoken to find her gone and then when she’d been so cold towards him in the days that followed he truly thought he’d ruined everything.

It wasn’t until she’d called him after he’d tried to talk to her and admitted that she’d wanted to stay with him that he’d felt the first stirrings of hope. A hope that there might be the chance for something more between them. Just the fact that she didn’t regret it, that she told him as much, that it meant something to her, spoke volumes to him because Emma Swan didn’t do that. She always closed herself off when it came to anything personal. He’d seen her do it time and again but for once, for him, she hadn’t.

Still, as much as he clung to that knowledge, he knew it wasn’t wise to push her. If he tried to talk to her about it, she’d likely erect those protective walls of hers sky high again so he had to think of a way to let her know that he cared without scaring her away.

And unexpectedly, he had.

He checked the package under his arm again and smiled a little to himself. It was his new book. He’d written the whole damn thing in eight weeks. He still couldn’t believe it.

Once he’d got to England he’d spent a few days catching up with old friends, sharing drinks and remembering Liam then he’d headed down to Cornwall where he’d rented a small cottage by the sea. At that time of year the tourist season was over and he’d managed to get himself quite a good deal on a place not far from Penzance. He’d researched a few local area’s, visited some of the smuggler’s haunts, including the famous Jamaica Inn, then had collated all his notes together and begun to write. He’d only expected to get the bare bones down but once he’d started the words had flowed.

The fact that he had Emma in mind as the heroine had only fuelled his writing as he’d woven a tale of a feisty princess kidnapped and treated badly by a vile prince. She’s then rescued by a dashing pirate turned privateer sent by her parents to find her and the two eventually fall in love on their adventurous journey home.

It wasn’t until he read through it all that he realised he’d written what amounted to one long love letter to Emma Swan. Everything he felt, he’d poured into the book. Everything he couldn’t say, the pirate had been his mouthpiece. It had been a catharsis on his soul and he’d found a perfect way to tell her how he felt without having to say it aloud.

Keep reading


Note: Read the notes at the bottom for clarification. Remember, NO SPOILERS PLEASE, in the comments or anywhere on this account. I have not finished the novel. I stopped reading for now so that I can translate. No copy/paste and all that other shenanigans either. Vote/likes are highly appreciated. (◎ヮ◎)

Here I am AGAIN! ╭( ・ㅂ・)و ̑̑ ˂ᵒ͜͡ᵏᵎ⁾✩ NUMERO DOS~ [no one can stop me!]★o(・д'・+)9"

Keep reading

Representation of femininity in media

Or, how I became a feminist.

   One of the topics that gets me the most heated in discussions of children’s media is the topic of role models for little girls. Rather, the sentiment that they are not needed. There is a common echo of “we don’t need to insert token "strong female characters” in everything! [Some tv show] is for BOYS, girls have their own shows!“ Or even worse, "It doen’t matter to the little kids, it only matters to you!”

   In preschool, we were asked what we wanted to be when we grew up, and I said “Batman”. The teacher told me that I could not be Batman, but I could be Batgirl instead, and I cried. I’m still not sure which is worse, that the teacher told me I couldn’t be Batman, or that being Batgirl was such an awful idea to me.

   I WAS a little girl damaged by not seeing myself represented.

Keep reading

Rey - “What was that? I shouldn’t have gone in there”
Maz - “That lightsaber was Luke’s, and his father’s before him and now it calls to you!”
Rey - “I have to get back to Jakku”
Maz - “Han told me” (they hold hands) “Dear child, I see your eyes - you already know the truth. Whomever you are waiting for on Jakku, they’re never coming back” Rey cries “but, there’s someone who still could”
Rey - “Luke”
Maz - “The belonging you seek is not behind you, it is ahead. I am no jedi, but I know the force. It moves through and surrounds every living thing. Close your eyes, feel it. The light. It’s always been there. It will guide you. The sabre - take it.”
Rey - “I’m never touching that thing again, I don’t want any part of this”

What Maz said to Rey made me think Rey couldn’t be a Skywalker when I saw the movie, because Maz told her not to wait for a family that was never coming back for her, that the belonging she sought was ahead and not behind. Han, Leia and Luke were alive when Maz said that and they didn’t go back for Rey. I can’t imagine how Han, who gave his life for his son, or Leia, who still saw Light in him after all he had done could live a little girl abandoned on a desertic planet for ever. And Rey thought Luke was a myth, that he didn’t even exist. Also, according to Pablo Hidalgo, Ren turned against Luke years after Rey was abandoned on Jakku. Why would Luke leave his daughter there instead of keeping her near him? If he did it to protect her,why? From whom?
What was the threat? It couldn’t be Kylo by then.

I also thought that Kylo was the belonging that awaited her in her future. He appeared in that vision although she had never met him, and she ran away from her calling only to bump into her destiny, she met the same man she had seen in her vision.

Many think the belonging the belonging Maz refers to is Luke, either in her past as the parent she misses or in her future, training her to become a Jedi, but I think Kylo is who her future will be linked to because they’ll only be whole and find balance together, so to speak.

 I guess Kylo, as a character, had to do something really horrible because if he didn’t it would be too obvious that he was just a wannabe bad boy pretending to be bad but looking too pretty without his mask and with a soft spot for feisty heroines. I mean, he would be like those bad boys in trashy romance novels who are never really bad and always conquer the girl’s heart and love her in return. That’s predictable and lame. 

How did they avoid it? Making Rey connect immediately with another pretty boy (Finn),a very nice one,by the way, and taking real risks with Kylo. Kylo isn’t Edward in Twilight (I fell asleep when I tried to see the first Twilight movie). Kylo comes across as a really bad guy but like the prodigal son, he must come back to the Light.

He started at the lowest possible point in TFA,as a traitor, as the killer of an elderly man and the commander who ordered the execution of prisoners of war,disloyal to his blood and heritage, colaborationist with the FO and accomplice with their crimes when Hux destroyed that planet and he stood there watching. As if this wasn’t enough, he killed his own father. Well, this is a great effort to make a bad guy look really bad. Why? Because he sets off in this movie as the scum of the earth, defeated and humiliated at the end by the girl he admires, to say the least,with his face branded as a criminal and a monster and his own father’s blood on his hands and conscience.

Can he fall any lower? Maybe, but I think he started so low because he is meant to rise. Now he is in hell,and he really looked like a demon after killing Han on the catwalk. There was that huge void under his feet and he had been hit by Chewie’s bowcaster ,then he looked up at Rey and Finn as if he was a demon looking at creatures of the Light. In fact, there was Light behind them and only that ominous red hue over Kylo. He was very much like the fallen angel turned into a demon, but his fall had started long before.

What may happen in the other two films? Some expect him to turn into a “proper” bad guy, stone-faced and unrelenting, wearing his mask everywhere and so on, I’ve heard people say that. But JJ wouldn’t have chosen Adam Driver for the role if he wanted that and Kylo wouldn’t have been shown as a such a fleshed-out conflicted character if that was the case. The only way for him to grow as a character is to set off on a journey in the opposite direction and come back like the prodigal son he is. Leia deserves that. How can they do this without giving the impression that Kylo got away with his crimes? No idea. There must be regret, repentance and atonement,but what he’s done is so horrible that I don’t know how the writers can deal with this in a satisfying way for the GA. I guess that a reason, a very shocking and powerful reason for his fall to the Dark Side is necessary if redeption is ahead. Most people need to understand why he became a traitor and a killer to feel they don’t need to fell guilty for wanting a murderer’s redemption.

I think he will be redeemed and his reason to become dark can’t be ambition, hunger for power, or something of the sort if he is to be redeemed. His motivations must be deep,important,and we have no idea what they might be. I may be wrong about this, but I think that narratively speaking it would be the right thing to do. It’s the writer’s decision,so we’ll have to wait and see. No motivations can erase the damage and pain he caused but they are important, they shouldn’t be petty if we are to belive he is worth another chance.

Ah, another thing that I found specially exciting and dramatic about Rey and Kylo’s final duel was how the ground cracked and a ravine appeared between them, separating them, leaving them an abyss apart while they looked at each other from opposing sides of the world. That last glance over the abyss was very important, I think. Why separating them in such a dramatic way if they mean nothing to each other? There’s no need to create an abyss between two enemies when one of them is utterly defeated, the abyss is neccesary to separate those who share a strong bond. Might that ravine foreshadow a need to bond, to join, they are not allowed? I know that Rey would be happy to never set eyes on his sorry face again and he should resent what she did to him and want revenge from her,but one thing is what should be happening and another what that scene suggested. It seemed the world (fate?) was against them together as if the blasted earth was separating what belonged together. I’m talking about imagery and what it may suggest. I may be wrong, but this is what I saw and where my imagination lead me; well, my imagination and all the movies I’ve seen and stories I’ve read in my life, of course.

countryrocker94-deactivated2015  asked:

To go off of your already answered head cannon of the guys finding out mc had a boyfriend. What about if the boyfriend was there friend? Not realizing that the girl they were both talking about was the mc (since they are in different classes and all lol)

Another head-cannon from the guy’s perspectives. I think is the first time I’ve written anything (fan-fiction or head-cannon) where the guys interact with each other so it was fun <3~


                My eyes swept across the tables, looking for a place to sit down with my home-cooked lunch and look over some notes before my next class. I had just set my sights on such a place when I heard someone calling me.


                I turned, to see Yuta waving enthusiastically. I sighed to myself, but steeled my face with a smile before heading to join him.

                “I haven’t seen you in so long!” He made a movement as if to give me a hug but I sat down.

                “Yeah, it’s been a while.”

                Yuta plopped into the seat across from me, “I mean I knew we were all going to the same school after high school but I feel like I don’t see anyone around.”

                I gave a non-committal shrug and started unpacking my lunch. Yuta started talking about something, which I found myself drowning out. It was all I could do to try and avoid thinking about her, lately I’d let my mind lapse into a numb state.

                “Hey, Yamato?” Yuta waved a hand across my glazed eyes.


                He frowned, “You weren’t listening, were you? You okay?”

                “Yeah, I’m good.”

                “Come on, Yamato!” Yuta’s dorky smile was back, “We’re old pals, right? You don’t have to keep up the ‘cool guy’ appearance around me, what’s buggin’ ya?”

                I almost chocked on my sandwich, “Jesus Yuta, pushy much?”

                “That’s what friends are for, right?” He beamed.

                “Ugh, fine,” I found myself telling him everything. I’d been keeping so much hidden for so long, it all just tumbled out; my feelings for her, and the pain I’d been feeling the last few days knowing that just as I worked up my courage, she already had someone else.

                “That’s rough,” Yuta’s mouth was open, as he stared at me in shock, “Straight out of a romance drama.”

                I crossed my arms, huffing, “Not funny, Yuta.”

                “No, no!” He tried to backtrack, “I was just trying to say that must really suck. I mean, gosh… I can’t imagine.”

                I shrugged again, not quite sure how to respond. I knew Yuta was trying to be supportive, but I didn’t really go for the whole ‘pity’ thing.

                “Hey, I have an idea!” Yuta said, jolting me out of my thoughts, “This weekend I was going to go to the arcade with my girlfriend. Maybe we could all go! Take your mind off things?”

                I scoffed, “Oh yeah Yuta, watching you and your new girlfriend, that’ll make me feel great.” I regretted the words immediately. God damnit, when did you become so nasty and bitter? But it seemed Yuta didn’t mind, he was looking somewhere behind me.

                “Oh! Speak of the devil!” He said, as he started waving again, with a stupid grin plastered across his face.

                I turned in my seat, and saw the worst thing imaginable right at that moment.

                I saw her, waving back.


                “Hey, Ren, are you listening?”

                Ren was already slumped across the table, breathing deeply as he fell asleep. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. Already, Ren?

                I gently shook his shoulders, “Ren? Didn’t you ask for tutoring help? Let’s just do 10 more minutes, then you can have a nap.”

                He peeked his green-grey eyes open and stared at me, “Tutoring…help?”

                “Have you been sleeping?” I found myself staring at the deep circles under his eyes, “Ren, you know you have to take care of yourself if you expect to do well in classes.”

                “A little,” Ren murmured, rubbing his eyes, “Up late, texting girlfriend.”

                I almost chocked on my water. Ren?! Girlfriend?! After I overcame my initial shock, I felt a smile spread across my face. I’d always thought Ren only made space in his life for work and sleep, but there was obviously someone he took the time to socialize with.

                “Wow! Good for you, Ren!” I felt myself beam as I patted him on the shoulders.

                He looked at me, slightly disgruntled, “What?”

                “When did you get a girlfriend?” I asked, curious.

                A slight smile crept onto his face, “Maybe a week ago.”

                “How’d you meet her?” I asked. Wow, he’s smiling, I thought, looking at his child-like happiness, She must be really important to him.

                “She’s my lab partner,” He answered, opening his phone.

                “You gonna show me a picture?” I leaned over Ren’s shoulder, amazed at his interest. He scrolled through a few pictures then opened one and showed it to me.

                “That’s her.”

                I blinked. That’s… ______….?!  I felt my chest tighten as I looked at the picture of her and Ren snuggled close together, smiling. I’d never seen either of them look so happy. My previous joy that Ren had finally crawled out of his shell vanished, leaving me with only this knot in my stomach.

                “Wow, you guys look happy together,” I found the words falling out of my mouth as I became aware of Ren’s eyes on me. That’s the truth, I thought. She is really nurturing, perfect for someone like Ren, who’s always forgetting to take care of himself…And he’s really handsome. They really are a good couple.


                All I’d wanted was a cup of coffee. My mind was full of the ideas I’d be able to get out on paper, buzzing as I snapped the lid on the hot cup. Then I noticed the green plaid shirt and long brown hair.


                He turned around and beamed at me, “Oh, Saeki! Join us!”

                I looked around, seeing only Takao at the table, “Us?”

                “Oh, yeah, I have someone I’m meeting up with.”

                “You’re meeting someone?” I felt the grin tug at the corners of my mouth, “Would this someone be… a girl?

                Takao flushed, “Well—”

                “Are you sure you want to let her meet me?“ I crossed my legs and leaned back in the chair, "Who knows, maybe she’ll be so overcome by my charm that she’ll choose me instead?”

                Takao’s brow knitted, “I see you’re still the same.”

                “Don’t blame me,” I sipped some coffee, “Women just want a little spice in their lives.” I said, winking.

                “Ugh,” Takao sighed, “Maybe you could refrain from making such jokes in front of her?”

                He was starting to look uncomfortable, nervous almost. Interesting, I thought, my hands twitching for the pencil and notebook in my bag, Is this a new relationship? Or one that’s not quite formed…I felt my head buzzing with possible scenarios. He hasn’t told me to stop teasing him though so I’d put money on new relationship. My gaze fell to the window as I let the thoughts run through my mind.

                As I was gazing into space, I caught sight of her. She was hunched, pulling the scarf around her neck against the cold. My mind went blank, as I saw the wind blow her hair around her face. I saw her look over at our table. Now there’s a scene, I thought, imagining the words I’d use to describe the way my heroine looked right now. ‘Seeing him, her eyes widened and sparkled. Before she could stop herself, she found his name on her lips—’


                I almost dropped my coffee.

                Takao turned and smiled when he saw her, and she rushed to him, giving him a peck on the cheek. Wrong, I thought, frozen with shock, it’s all wrong.

                “Oh, Saeki!” She noticed, saying my name, almost like an afterthought. Her words pierced my heart. _____? With Takao?! I couldn’t stop my hands from trembling. Breathe, Takamasa.

                “Lovely as always to see you,” I found myself plucking her hand between mine and kissing it.

                “Hey! Saeki!” Takao protested.

                When I looked up, I saw her sparkling eyes gazing into mine, as her cheeks flushed. Worth it, I thought, before gathering my things.


                “So what have you been up to, Ren?!” Yamato sat next to me, cheerfully patting me on the shoulder.

                I shrugged his hand off and felt my frown deepen. I didn’t want to talk to Yamato, but he had just sat next to me without giving me the chance to decline. I had just wanted to eat by myself, and try to numb her out of my brain.

                “You look kind of tired,” Yamato’s playful demeanor was gone as he peered at me, uncomfortably close.

                “I am tired,” I muttered grumpily, “No sleep.” I’d been unable to sleep, the thoughts of her kept buzzing through my mind, keeping me awake when I laid down at night.

                “Why not? You need enough sleep to function Ren.”

                “Just stuff.”

                Yamato sighs, obviously sensing the mood, “Fine, I guess you don’t have to say anything. You should come out with us this weekend though. I know you usually ignore the invites but maybe it’ll help get your mind off things.”

                I was remembering this conversation now as I sat in the passenger side of Takao’s car. Him and Yamato had dragged me out of bed, too early, refusing to take no for an answer. This is stupid, I thought, although I did understand that they did this out of care for my well-being and recently depressed mannerisms.

                “Where are we picking her up again, Yamato?” Takao asked, as he started the car.

                “She lives in the girl’s dorms over there,” Yamato replied, pointing with one hand as he dialed with the other. “Hey, pouty, we’re almost there, are you ready yet?” He said, when she picked up on the other end.

                “Who is he talking to?” I asked Takao.

                “His girlfriend.” I could see Takao’s surprised expression in the rearview mirror, “She’s joining us today.”

                I nestled into the back seat. His girlfriend, great. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of her, happy with her boyfriend instead of me. Yamato and his girlfriend better not be too lovey-dovey or I might puke, I thought grumpily. When the car stopped, I heard the back door open as a girl climbed in.

                “Jeez, isn’t it kinda early?” A familiar voice complained.

                I couldn’t believe my ears, and found myself slowly turning to my right. It can’t be… But I’d recognize that voice any day. My eyes widened when I saw her continue to banter with Yamato, not even noticing I was in the car.

                This is a nightmare, I thought, flipping the hood on my jacket up, I shouldn’t have come.


                “Saeki!” I called, trying to get his attention.

                He turned, and smiled, “Oh, Yuta! Haven’t seen you in a while.” Saeki stood and waited for me to catch up.

                “Yeah, where ya headed?”

                “Just about to go get some lunch with a date, you?”

                We started walking together as I replied, “Ohhhhhhhh, Saeki’s got a date.”

                “Is it that rare for me to have dates?” he raised his eyebrows in mock shock, “If you want me to teach you how it’s done all you have to do is ask, catching girls is a fine art you know.”

                “Ugh, no thanks Saeki,” I frowned, as I envisioned him surrounded by a small harem, “I’ve already got someone for me.”

                Saeki was genuinely shocked now, “You like someone?”

                “Rude!” I huffed, “What’s so unbelievable about that?”

                “Nothing,” Saeki chuckled, “I’m sure you can charm her with that brilliant sense of humor you have.”

                My heart sunk, “No one really thinks my jokes are funny—”

                “What?! But Yuta you’re a genius!”

                I smiled. Saeki had always been supportive of my dream to be a comedian, even when none of the other guys were. Before _____, Saeki had always been the only one to laugh at my skits.

                “Hey!” Saeki said suddenly getting an idea, “I know, how about you come meet my girlfriend before our date! She’s got a great sense of humor I’m sure she’ll appreciate your jokes.”

                My stomach began to feel as if it were tied in knots as I imagined the scene Saeki was describing. Saeki’s girlfriend: extremely hot, probably dressed like a movie star, meets Yuta, the mop-headed klutz who tells a joke. No one laughs. Awkward…

                “I don’t know Saeki—” I started, trying to back out of it, retain some of my dignity by avoiding the disaster I knew this would be.

                Saeki didn’t seem to want to take no for an answer and began dragging me by the arm towards the dining tables, “Come on Yuta! Have some confidence!”

                “N-No Saeki!” I tried to protest as my performance nerves grew worse.

“Saeki! And…Yuta?”

                We both turned around.

                “_____!” I said, thank God, I don’t have to embarrass myself, “Save me!”

                She stared at me, her eyes widening in shock for a few seconds, then burst out giggling. I felt my nerves vanish as I saw her laughing, a broad smile across her lips.

                “See Yuta!” Saeki said, releasing me, “I told you she’d recognize your humor!” He was laughing now too.

                Wait… She’s the one Saeki was talking about? I froze, His… girlfriend? I couldn’t breathe as I watched the two of them giggling, unknowingly at a sick joke I wish I hadn’t gotten.


I wasn’t too sure how to make this a continuation of the previous jealousy head-cannon because most of the boys had already seen her with the boyfriend >.<

GLAMOUR UK, APRIL 2014: Lea’s Got Her Groove Back


Lea’s Got Her Groove Back

After the toughest year of her life following the tragic death of her boyfriend, Cory Monteith, Glee actress turned pop star Lea Michele talks candidly to Celia Walden about finding her way back to “a good place.”

“So, did you get the shoes?”

I’m in the corner of a cavernous photographic studio in Los Angeles, placing a last-minute eBay bid on a pair of Alaias, when Lea Michele pops up beside me, catching me in the act. Damn. I don’t think I’ve ever known a Hollywood actress be on time before. I’ve certainly never known one to be as warm and easy-going as Lea is from the offset. Within minutes, the 27-year-old Glee star is showing off her impressive British accent (she learnt it from co-star Gwyneth Paltrow’s daughter, Apple, “who speaks with a British accent to her friends and an American one to her mum – it’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen”), helping herself to a latte almost as large as her (at 5ft 3in, she’s a dinky) and ushering her publicists out of the room (“we don’t need a chaperone”).

This refusal to have her minders present, in particular, is surprising. First, because Lea’s rise – ever since she became the poster girl for the global phenomenon that is Glee in 2009 – has been meteoric enough to  unsteady any actress, let alone a then 22-year-old TV newcomer, and second, because the actress and singer has every reason to feel vulnerable and wary. Last year was a devastating one for the Bronx-born Lea. In July 2013, she lost her boyfriend and Glee co-star, Cory Monteith, to a heroin overdose. After months of battling drug addiction and stints in rehab, 31-year-old Cory – who played Lea’s on-off love interest – was found dead in a Vancouver hotel room. Lea was inconsolable, postponing the release of her new album, Louder, and retreating to her friend Kate Hudson’s house to try to make sense of the tragedy. “I used that time to really heal and hibernate,” she says now, curled up on a sofa in her dressing room in cut-off jeans and an oversized oatmeal Iro jumper. “I immediately started to try and process everything. I didn’t drown myself in anything toxic.” She pauses. “At the start, it’s hard because you’re so physically and mentally shocked and damaged, but after a while you get tired of physically feeling so horrendous, so I started doing yoga, which really helped. Then gradually your mind catches up with your body. Now I feel a little bit more back together and I have this blank canvas in front of me, which is what my life can be. There’s something sad about that,” she concedes, “but also something good, because I will take that blank canvas and make something beautiful out of it.”

Professionally, she’s well on her way to doing that. Although her album was completed prior to Cory’s death, (“we used to sit in the car together and listen to the tracks because it had the best sound system”), Lea has since added one song, If You Say So, in his memory, written a book, Brunette Ambition, to be published in May, and filmed the sixth and final season of Glee. Personally, she’s also “in a better place”, she says. “I’m just so glad we’re in a new year. I feel physically strong and emotionally very strong. You don’t know how strong you are until you have to be. I lost my grandfather a couple of years ago and I always feel that he’s watching over me. I feel the exact same way about Cory. Every day when I go running, I feel like he’s pushing me to run harder,” she smiles, slightly embarrassed by her confession. “But everyone’s different and Cory didn’t believe in stuff like that.” Did they ever talk about death? “We talked about a lot of things,” she nods. “We talked about children and what we would look like when we grew old and who would be fat and how we would stay thin. We talked about where we wanted to go and what we wanted to do. We were done. We were it. And when you’re at that place in your life with someone, you talk about everything. But today I feel like I was given the best part of Cory and I’m thankful for that.” Moving on won’t be easy, she realizes, particularly with a fan base that is so invested in hers and Monteith’s love story. Does she think that she’ll feel guilty when she gets together with someone new? “I honestly don’t know,” she says slowly. “I’ve only ever had serious relationships so it’s an adjustment putting myself back into a place of being alone. And I was under a Cory Monteith spell,” she explains. “I was. It’ll take time to readjust my mind and I’m really not wanting to do that right now. I feel like it’s so important to make sure that I’m 100% OK before I can get into a relationship. But,” she goes on, and here her voice hardens, “people have to understand that I can’t be alone forever. Cory wouldn’t want that.” When she and her best friend, actor Jonathan Groff – with whom she co-starred in the Broadway hit Spring Awakening back in 2006 – posted happy holiday selfies on Lea’s active Twitter account back in January, the actress was dismayed by the reaction. “People were posting the most horrendous things. Things like, ‘You’re cheating on Cory.’ But a lot of my fans are young and they can’t understand,” she says with a shake of the head. “People are going to have to get that I am 27 years old and that I have my whole life ahead of me.”

Lea credits yoga, hiking, running and healthy eating for helping keep her sane over the past year. We suspected that it wasn’t the McDonald’s drive-thru and Real Housewives re-runs, I tell her. Scarcely a week goes by without a paparazzi picture appearing of the actress looking lithe and toned in Lululemon spandex, drinking green slush through a straw. “I have a routine!” she giggles, apologetically. “And I like my green juices! In order to do what I do and do it well, I have to be in a good headspace. So any free time that I have I dedicate to self-care.” Over the past five years living in L.A., Lea has watched less sanguine girls in her industry crash and burn. “I think exhaustion is the number-one cause, and pressure. You have to have a thick fucking skin. I come from New York and I don’t give a shit what people say about me. I have a fucking thick skin.” Remembering something, she laughs. “My cast members call me ‘grandma’ because I go to work, come  home, pour myself a glass of wine, watch my television, read or take a bath. Then on Sunday I have my spa appointments booked with my best friend, because it’s so important to carve out the time to nourish your body and soul.”

Loss may have strengthened – even empowered Lea – but as she points out, “coming into this business I was already pretty grounded.” The daughter of a deli owner and a nurse, Lea had a “normal high school experience” in New Jersey (despite erroneous reports that she was bullied, like her alter ego  Rachel Berry) landing her first role as Cosette in the Broadway production of Les Miserables at the tender age of eight. Agents and managers would tell her that she reminded them of a young Madonna (“I’m always hustling”), but it wasn’t until she got her big break in Spring Awakening that she caught the attention of Hollywood – and Glee’s casting directors. Two years later, she moved to L.A. “Broadway is this really small community, so before I moved out here, I was completely unaware of the other side of the business – the media interest and all those shows on E!. I just wanted to be the biggest leading Broadway diva. That was as good as it got to me.” Barbra Streisand had always been Lea’s idol growing up – in part, she says, because she looked a little like the actress and singer. “If Gilda Radner and Barbra Streisand had a baby with Jim Carrey, I would have been the outcome,” she laughs. “I was a really weird-looking kid. I had my dad’s Jewish nose and my mom’s Italian thick curly hair and I was kooky and awkward. But I’ve come into myself over the years.”

Given how regularly she features in “World’s Sexiest Women” polls, men would be inclined to agree. But Lea says she only realised that her unconventional beauty could be moulded into something more mainstream at her first Golden Globes Awards. “I like to dress very cosily – in Iro, Vince, or Mason – in my day-to-day life, but my stylist had put me in this gorgeous black Oscar De La Renta dress and when I saw a photo of myself on the red carpet a week later, I was like, “Wow.” I thought, “You know, I may not look like the other people there, but whatever I am, I look OK.”

Ultimately, she says, it’s about feeling good within yourself. “Because I know so many girls in the business who don’t love themselves, and no matter what they try to do to the outside – inject or plump or pluck or pull or dye – it won’t help. Look at JLo or Gwyneth or Kate Hudson: these are strong women who are glowing from the inside out. Gwyneth wakes up in the morning and she literally glows – that’s because she loves herself.”

It was in trying to harness the magic of those women that Lea came up with the idea for her book, Brunette Ambition, a selection of recipes, workouts, home-made beauty concoctions and life philosophies. ‘Ambitious’ may still be an insult where women are concerned, but “we don’t do what we do to be mediocre!” Lea all but shouts. “That said, being an outspoken, strong woman is intimidating for some men and women. I have a lot of girls who can’t handle me. That’s why my girlfriends are all very confident in who they are.” Lea’s enduring self-confidence was rewarded at the end of 2012, when she was pronounced as a L’Oreal spokesmodel. “When I did my first shoot, looked into the camera and said ‘Because I’m worth it’, I started hysterically crying. Because here’s the thing, if you set limits for yourself in your life, if you tell yourself you’ll never get there, you won’t. Nobody else is setting those boundaries – only you.”

Should anyone dare to set boundaries for Lea, I’m pretty sure she’ll pole vault over them. And whatever the next few years hold for her, she has no intention of choosing between music and acting, she says. “Just look at Jared Leto. He’ll probably win an Oscar and he has a best-selling album in the US right now.” And he’s hot, I point out. “And he’s cute,” she laughingly agrees. “So obviously that’s the dream.”

She’s planning to go on tour this summer, and can’t wait to go back to London, she tells me. “I took my mum there for the first time for the GLAMOUR Women of the Year Awards and she still talks about it, so I really want to go back there and this time make some British girlfriends.” Which shouldn’t be a problem, I assure her. Only those green juices? They’re going to have to go.


Stowaways’ Holiday

Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Words: 3,430
Warnings: Mentions of violence, some swearing, very brief implication of sex?
A/N: In case the cheesy-ass title didn’t brief you into it, here’s a mostly Christmas-themed one-shot for you all! Now, this is kind of a big mess, but I just wanted to get something up before Christmas, so here you go. I’m not very happy with it, but hey. It’s for the people.

Your name: submit What is this?

“Sleigh bells ring, are you listenin’? In the lane, snow is glistening. A beautiful sight, we’re happy tonight, walking in a winter wonderland…”

You lean back further into the warm passenger’s seat of the car, letting out a deep breath and tugging Bucky’s jacket closer around your body. Just as he’s been the past few hours, he is merely focused on the road ahead and only very rarely gives you a sideways stare that you would hold until he looked away.

Keep reading

Ao Haru Ride Movie Special Interview (Trans.)


Shooting for 40 days in Toyama and Nagasaki, we got both of them to tell us what happened behind the scenes. Fully loaded with moments where we can fee the goodness of their teamwork.


Keep reading

BLACK WAVE - Chapter One

Further description about the fanfiction in Chapter Two


I sat on the rooftop with my legs hanging from the edge, I had my eyes fixed on the street below me. I was waiting for them to arrive and when I saw the car convoy pull down at the entrance of the building I couldn’t hide the small smirk on my lips. Pushing myself up I stretched my legs out hearing my costume creaking a bit, and I jumped a few times before glancing down once more.

“Let’s get started,” I sighed turning around and kicking open the doors I walked into the building.

I danced down the stairs to the tenth level while crooning Demi Lovato’s Confident quietly. I pulled my gun out of my belt and made sure it was full, then spun it around my index finger as I casually walked into the big ass office. I could see my reflection in the windows, my mask was on place and my ponytail was high as usual. I winked at myself before taking the seat behind the desk and turning towards the window. I kept singing hearing the footsteps getting closer and closer with each sang word. The door flung open and they immediately stopped seeing the lights on. I smirked and turned around in the chair feeling like a real boss.

“Good evening!” I smiled at them charming taking in the group of criminals holding their guns like their most precious thing in the world. At least five of them pointed them on me, but I couldn’t care less. I stood up leaning on the desk and bit into my bottom lip as I glanced at the guy in the middle. Cameron Dallas.

“How did you know we would be here?” he asked clenching his jaw. I let out a small giggle sitting up to the table.

“Did you learn absolutely nothing? I know everything here,” I sighed swinging my legs over the table so I was sitting on the other side now, closer to my guests. “Gentlemen, I feel like a criminal with those guns pointing at me. Is this how you treat women?” I asked pouting my lips at them. They unsurely started to lower the guns, but Cameron just rolled his eyes knowing me too damn well. What can I say? We met a few times before.

“Keep it up, guys, don’t listen to her,” he growled arching an eyebrow at me. I grinned at him in amusement hopping off the table earning them to go on full alert. What did they think? That I’m gonna just throw myself at them and get them with my bare hands? Well, they were right, but it was not the time yet. “You can’t stop us, sorry. Not today. I need that money,” he said crossing his arms on his chest. The jacket strained on his arms letting me know that those arms were still as muscular as back in the days when I saw them every night.

“For what?” I innocently asked taking a step towards him. “To buy a fancy car? To pay these idiots for their work? To buy more guns? Tell me, why do you so desperately need that money that someone else worked for?” I asked slowly walking over to him and then I stopped when only one step was between us. I could smell his perfume and I know that he saw my real face under the mask, the one he used to face every single day before he turned into the monster I was chasing now. “Tell me, Mr. Dallas, what do you need the money for?” I whispered intentionally not using his first name. He took a deep breath before shifting his eyes away from me.

“I don’t have time for this. I’m sorry,” he said, then grabbed his gun and after the first shot the game had officially begun.

In the blink of an eye I grabbed mine and shot three guys on the hand making them unable to use their guns against me. They were so amateur, instead of shooting at me they thought they would be able to fight me with their fists, but I guess they didn’t hear enough about me.

I saw Cameron and two other guys run into the small room at the back where the safe was while I took most of his people down to the floor with some easy moves.

“That’s not how you treat young ladies!” I growled grabbing one of the men arm, twisting it and as the gun fell to the ground I kicked it away tossing the man to the side. A moment later all of them were lying on the ground unconscious or just simply praying for their lives. I ran into the room just to find Cameron being almost finished with packing the money into bags. The two guys immediately pointed their guys at me and unlike their buddies, they actually fired at me. I jumped back hiding behind the wall, waiting for them to run out of the bullets, but they stopped before that, meaning they would still shoot my head off of my neck if I go back, so I had to change my tactic.

Jumping on the top of the desk I hit out one of the ceiling pieces from its place and clambering up I pulled myself up to the narrow space above the office.

“Where did she go?” I heard Cameron groan as I climbed towards the end of the room.

“I don’t know,” one of the guys answered. “I think she is gone.”

“Of course she is not gone you idiot! She wouldn’t let us get away this easily.”

Clever boy.

“Go and check out the hallway,” he ordered and I heard two pair of feet running out of the room. Did they really let him alone? Easy move.

I heard him zipping the bags and then heading towards the door. That was when I kicked out one more piece and jumped down landing just behind him. Before he could process what happened I grabbed the bags and pulled them away from him. He was holding them tightly so he successfully tripped clinging onto the many too hardly. I threw the bags away kicking into his side making him roll over while growling in pain.

“When are you going to give it up? You know I will hunt you down,” I said standing above him.

“But you haven’t. Because you can’t,” he replied coughing a few times before showing me his white teeth with his satisfied grin. “I am your biggest failure because you used to have me, but now you can’t take me down.”

“Says the guy growling on the ground,” I hissed at him. I hated when he brought our past up, it was an unfair move.

“I may be now on the ground, but…” With one quick move he kicked me in the knees sending me to the floor. “You are joining me,” he said finishing his sentence.

He tried to get on top of me, but I was faster than that, I kicked him off of me and showed my knee into his lower stomach making him gasp for air.

“I can see that your balls weren’t made of steel,” I grinned at him kicking his manhood without hesitation. His face became red from the pain as he tried to fight me off. “Oh wait,” I gasped pretending to be surprised. “I already know that, because I used to be doing something else with them than this,” I sneered giving them one more kick.

The two guys got back and one of them threw himself on me depriving me from the opportunity to ruin Cameron’s chances of using his dick again properly. The stupid bloke dug his elbow into my boobs just making me even angrier at him.

“Dude, what the hell?!” I groaned at him kicking him off of me. He landed on his back, I grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm until I heard his shoulder breaking. Turning around I saw the other guy scratching Cameron up from the floor, holding the bags with his other hand. “The party is not over, guys, did you think I would let you go just like this?” I asked with a hysterical laugh as I stormed over to them and kicked the guy’s legs out from under him sending both of them to the ground. I was just about to handcuff them when suddenly the windows exploded out of their frames and I was pushed to the wall with such a strong strength that my vision went blurry.

“Quickly, hurry up!” someone shouted through the deafening noise that reminded me of the voice of a helicopter. I shook my head trying to make my vision clear again and saw a few more guys picking everyone up from the floor who was still able to walk a bit, they tugged Cameron into a helicopter that was hovering next to the building with its door opened.

“No!” I screamed not wanting to let him escape again. I jumped to my feet trying not to lose my balance, but it was too late. The last guy made it into the helicopter and it started to recede already. By the time I got to the empty window frames they were too far away. I stared at Cameron who was laughing at me despite his pain.

“I’m proud my ex-girlfriend is a badass heroine, but you should just give up already,” he shouted at me, licking off some blood of his lips.

“You know I won’t give up until I take you down,” I shouted back breathing heavily in my fury.

“Then see you next time, babe. Sorry, I meant, Black Wave,” he nodded at me smiling as he said the name most people knew for me in the city.

“Fuck you!” I shouted showing him my middle finger as the door of the helicopter shut closed and I watched them fly away. Again. But not for the last time, I was sure about it.

Conrad Knickerbocker, Interview: William S. Burroughs, 35 The Paris Review (1965)
  • Interviewer: When and why did you start to write?
  • William S. Burroughs: I started to write in about 1950; I was thirty-five at the time; there didn't seem to be any strong motivation. I simply was endeavoring to put down in a more or less straightforward journalistic style something about my experiences with addiction and addicts.
  • Interviewer: Why did you start taking drugs?
  • William S. Burroughs: Well, I was just bored. I didn't seem to have much interest in becoming a successful advertising executive or whatever, or living the kind of life Harvard designs for you. After I became addicted in New York in 1944, things began to happen. I got in some trouble with the law, got married, moved to New Orleans, and then went to Mexico.
  • Interviewer: There seems to be a great deal of middle-class voyeurism in this country concerning addiction, and in the literary world, downright reverence for the addict. You apparently don't share these points of view.
  • William S. Burroughs: No, most of it is nonsense. I think drugs are interesting principally as chemical means of altering metabolism and thereby altering what we call reality, which I would define as a more or less constant scanning pattern.
  • Interviewer: What do you think of the hallucinogens and the new psychedelic drugs—LSD-25?
  • William S. Burroughs: I think they're extremely dangerous, much more dangerous than heroin. They can produce overwhelming anxiety states. I've seen people try to throw themselves out of windows; whereas the heroin addict is mainly interested in staring at his own toe. Other than deprivation of the drug, the main threat to him is an overdose. I've tried most of the hallucinogens without an anxiety reaction, fortunately. LSD-25 produced results for me similar to mescaline. Like all hallucinogens, LSD gave me an increased awareness, more a hallucinated viewpoint than any actual hallucination. You might look at a doorknob and it will appear to revolve, although you are conscious that this is the result of the drug. Also, van Goghish colors, with all those swirls, and the crackle of the universe.
  • Interviewer: Have you read Henri Michaux's book on mescaline?
  • William S. Burroughs: His idea was to go into his room and close the door and hold in the experiences. I had my most interesting experiences with mescaline when I got outdoors and walked around—colors, sunsets, gardens. It produces a terrible hangover, though, nasty stuff. It makes one ill and interferes with coordination. I've had all the interesting effects I need, and I don't want any repetition of those extremely unpleasant physical reactions.
  • Interviewer: The visions of drugs and the visions of art don't mix?
  • William S. Burroughs: Never. The hallucinogens produce visionary states, sort of, but morphine and its derivatives decrease awareness of inner processes, thoughts, and feelings. They are painkillers, pure and simple. They are absolutely contraindicated for creative work, and I include in the lot alcohol, morphine, barbiturates, tranquilizers—the whole spectrum of sedative drugs. As for visions and heroin, I had a hallucinatory period at the very beginning of addiction, for instance, a sense of moving at high speed through space. But as soon as addiction was established, I had no visions—vision—at all and very few dreams.
  • Interviewer: Why did you stop taking drugs?
  • William S. Burroughs: I was living in Tangier in 1957, and I had spent a month in a tiny room in the Casbah staring at the toe of my foot. The room had filled up with empty Eukodol cartons; I suddenly realized I was not doing anything. I was dying. I was just apt to be finished. So I flew to London and turned myself over to Dr. John Yerbury Dent for treatment. I'd heard of his success with the apomorphine treatment. Apomorphine is simply morphine boiled in hydrochloric acid; it's nonaddictive. What the apomorphine did was to regulate my metabolism. It's a metabolic regulator. It cured me physiologically. I'd already taken the cure once at Lexington, and although I was off drugs when I got out, there was a physiological residue. Apomorphine eliminated that. I've been trying to get people in this country interested in it, but without much luck. The vast majority—social workers, doctors—have the cop's mentality toward addiction. A probation officer in California wrote me recently to inquire about the apomorphine treatment. I'll answer him at length. I always answer letters like that.
  • Interviewer: Have you had any relapses?
  • William S. Burroughs: Yes, a couple. Short. Both were straightened out with apomorphine, and now heroin is no temptation for me. I'm just not interested. I've seen a lot of it around. I know people who are addicts. I don't have to use any willpower. Dr. Dent always said there is no such thing as willpower. You've got to reach a state of mind in which you don't want it or need it.
  • Interviewer: You regard addiction as an illness but also a central human fact, a drama?
  • William S. Burroughs: Both, absolutely. It's as simple as the way in which anyone happens to become an alcoholic. They start drinking, that's all. They like it, and they drink, and then they become alcoholic. I was exposed to heroin in New York—that is, I was going around with people who were using it; I took it; the effects were pleasant. I went on using it and became addicted. Remember that if it can be readily obtained, you will have any number of addicts. The idea that addiction is somehow a psychological illness is, I think, totally ridiculous. It's as psychological as malaria. It's a matter of exposure. People, generally speaking, will take any intoxicant or any drug that gives them a pleasant effect if it is available to them. In Iran, for instance, opium was sold in shops until quite recently, and they had three million addicts in a population of twenty million. There are also all forms of spiritual addiction. Anything that can be done chemically can be done in other ways, that is, if we have sufficient knowledge of the processes involved. Many policemen and narcotics agents are precisely addicted to power, to exercising a certain nasty kind of power over people who are helpless. The nasty sort of power-- white junk, I call it—rightness; they're right, right, right—and if they lost that power, they would suffer excruciating withdrawal symptoms. The picture we get of the whole Russian bureaucracy, people who are exclusively preoccupied with power and advantage, this must be an addiction. Suppose they lose it? Well, it's been their whole life.
  • Interviewer: Can you amplify your idea of junk as image?
  • William S. Burroughs: It's only a theory and, I feel, an inadequate one. I don't think anyone really understands what a narcotic is or how it works, how it kills pain. My idea is sort of a stab in the dark. As I see it, what has been damaged in pain is, of course, the image, and morphine must in some sense replace this. We know it blankets the cells and that addicts are practically immune to certain viruses, to influenza and respiratory complaints. This is simple because the influenza virus has to make a hole in the cell receptors. When those are covered, as they are in morphine addiction, the virus can't get in. As soon as morphine is withdrawn, addicts will immediately come down with colds and often with influenza.
  • Interviewer: Certain schizophrenics also resist respiratory disease.
  • William S. Burroughs: A long time ago I suggested there were similarities in terminal addiction and terminal schizophrenia. That was why I made the suggestion that they addict these people to heroin, then withdraw it and see if they could be motivated; in other words, find out whether they'd walk across the room and pick up a syringe. Needless to say, I didn't get very far, but I think it would be interesting.
  • Interviewer: Narcotics, then, disturb normal perception—
  • William S. Burroughs: And set up instead a random craving for images. If drugs weren't forbidden in America, they would be the perfect middle-class vice. Addicts would do their work and come home to consume the huge dose of images awaiting them in the mass media. Junkies love to look at television. Billie Holiday said she knew she was going off drugs when she didn't like to watch TV. Or they'll sit and read a newspaper or magazine, and by God, read it all. I knew this old junkie in New York, and he'd go out and get a lot of newspapers and magazines and some candy bars and several packages of cigarettes and then he'd sit in his room and he'd read those newspapers and magazines right straight through. Indiscriminately. Every word.
  • Interviewer: Marshall McLuhan said that you believed heroin was needed to turn the human body into an environment that includes the universe. But from what you've told me, you're not at all interested in turning the body into an environment.
  • William S. Burroughs: No, junk narrows consciousness. The only benefit to me as a writer (aside from putting me into contact with the whole carny world) came to me after I went off it. What I want to do is to learn to see more of what's out there, to look outside, to achieve as far as possible a complete awareness of surroundings. Beckett wants to go inward. First he was in a bottle and now he is in the mud. I am aimed in the other direction—outward.
  • Interviewer: Mary McCarthy has commented on the carnival origins of your characters in Naked Lunch. What are their other derivations?
  • William S. Burroughs: The carny world was the one I exactly intended to create—a kind of midwestern, small-town, cracker-barrel, pratfall type of folklore, very much my own background. That world was an integral part of America and existed nowhere else, at least not in the same form. My family was southern on my mother's side. My grandfather was a circuit-riding Methodist minister with thirteen children. Most of them went up to New York and became quite successful in advertising and public relations. One of them, an uncle, was a master image maker, Ivy Lee, Rockefeller's publicity manager.
  • Interviewer: Earlier you mentioned that if junk had done nothing else, it at least put you in contact with the carny world.
  • William S. Burroughs: Yes, the underworld, the old-time thieves, pickpockets, and people like that. They're a dying race; very few of those old-timers left. Yeah, well, they were show business.
  • Interviewer: What's the difference between the modern junkie versus the 1944 junkie?
  • William S. Burroughs: For one thing, all these young addicts; that was quite unknown in 1944. Most of the ones I knew were middle-aged men or old. I knew some of the old-time pickpockets and sneak thieves and shortchange artists. They had something called The Bill, a shortchange deal. I've never been able to figure out how it works. One man I knew beat all the cashiers in Grand Central with this thing. It starts with a twenty-dollar bill. You give them a twenty-dollar bill and then when you get the change you say, “Well, wait a minute, I must have been dreaming, I've got the change after all.” First thing you know, the cashier's short ten dollars. One day this shortchange artist went to Grand Central, even though he knew it was burned down, but he wanted to change twenty dollars. Well, a guy got on the buzzer and they arrested him. When they got up in court and tried to explain what had happened, none of them could do it. I keep stories like this in my files.
  • Interviewer: Do you think of the artist at all as being a con man?
  • William S. Burroughs: In a sense. You see, a real con man is a creator. He creates a set. No, a con man is more a movie director than a writer. The Yellow Kid created a whole set, a whole cast of characters, a whole brokerage house, a whole bank. It was just like a movie studio.
  • Interviewer: What about addicts?
  • William S. Burroughs: Well, there will be a lot of morphine addiction. Remember that there were a great many addicts at that time. Jesse James was an addict. He started using morphine for a wound in his lung, and I don't know whether he was permanently addicted, but he tried to kill himself. He took sixteen grains of morphine and it didn't kill him, which indicates a terrific tolerance. So he must have been fairly heavily addicted. A dumb, brutal hick; that's what he was, like Dillinger. And there were so many genteel old ladies who didn't feel right unless they had their Dr. Jones mixture every day.
  • Interviewer: What other character types interest you?
  • William S. Burroughs: Not the people in advertising and television, nor the American postman or middle-class housewife; not the young man setting forth. The whole world of high finance interests me, the men such as Rockefeller who were specialized types of organisms that could exist in a certain environment. He was really a moneymaking machine, but I doubt that he could have made a dime today because he required the old laissez-faire capitalism. He was a specialized monopolistic organism. My uncle Ivy created images for him. I fail to understand why people like J. Paul Getty have to come on with such a stuffy, uninteresting image. He decides to write his life history. I've never read anything so dull, so absolutely devoid of any spark. Well, after all, he was quite a playboy in his youth. There must have been something going on. None of it's in the book. Here he is, the only man of enormous wealth who operates alone, but there's nobody to present the image. Well, yes, I wouldn't mind doing that sort of job myself. I'd like to take somebody like Getty and try to find an image for him that would be of some interest. If Getty wants to build an image, why doesn't he hire a first-class writer to write his story? For that matter, advertising has a long way to go. I'd like to see a story by Norman Mailer or John O'Hara which just makes some mention of a product, say, Southern Comfort. I can see the O'Hara story. It would be about someone who went into a bar and asked for Southern Comfort; they didn't have it, and he gets into a long, stupid argument with the bartender. It shouldn't be obtrusive; the story must be interesting in itself so that people read this just as they read any story in Playboy, and Southern Comfort would be guaranteed that people will look at that advertisement for a certain number of minutes. You see what I mean? They'll read the story. Now, there are many other ideas; you could have serialized comic strips, serial stories. Well, all we have to do is have James Bond smoking a certain brand of cigarettes.
  • Interviewer: In some respects, Nova Express seems to be a prescription for social ailments. Do you see the need, for instance, of biologic courts in the future?
  • William S. Burroughs: Certainly. Science eventually will be forced to establish courts of biologic mediation, because life-forms are going to become more incompatible with the conditions of existence as man penetrates further into space. Mankind will have to undergo biologic alterations ultimately, if we are to survive at all. This will require biologic law to decide what changes to make. We will simply have to use our intelligence to plan mutations, rather than letting them occur at random. Because many such mutations—look at the saber-toothed tiger—are bound to be very poor engineering designs. The future, decidedly, yes. I think there are innumerable possibilities, literally innumerable. The hope lies in the development of nonbody experience and eventually getting away from the body itself, away from three-dimensional coordinates and concomitant animal reactions of fear and flight, which lead inevitably to tribal feuds and dissension.
  • Interviewer: You see hope for the human race, but at the same time you are alarmed as the instruments of control become more sophisticated.
  • William S. Burroughs: Well, whereas they become more sophisticated they also become more vulnerable. Time, Life, Fortune applies a more complex, effective control system than the Mayan calendar, but it also is much more vulnerable because it is so vast and mechanized. Not even Henry Luce understands what's going on in the system now. Well, a machine can be redirected. One technical sergeant can fuck up the whole works. Nobody can control the whole operation. It's too complex. The captain comes in and says, “All right, boys, we're moving up.” Now, who knows what buttons to push? Who knows how to get the cases of Spam up to where they're going, and how to fill out the forms? The sergeant does. The captain doesn't know. As long as there're sergeants around, the machine can be dismantled, and we may get out of all this alive yet.
  • Interviewer: Sex seems equated with death frequently in your work.
  • William S. Burroughs: That is an extension of the idea of sex as a biologic weapon. I feel that sex, like practically every other human manifestation, has been degraded for control purposes, or really for antihuman purposes. This whole Puritanism. How are we ever going to find out anything about sex scientifically, when a priori the subject cannot even be investigated? It can't even be thought about or written about. That was one of the interesting things about Reich. He was one of the few people who ever tried to investigate sex—sexual phenomena, from a scientific point of view. There's this prurience and this fear of sex. We know nothing about sex. What is it? Why is it pleasurable? What is pleasure? Relief from tension? Well, possibly.
  • Interviewer: Mary McCarthy has characterized you as a soured utopian. Is that accurate?
  • William S. Burroughs: I do definitely mean what I say to be taken literally, yes, to make people aware of the true criminality of our times, to wise up the marks. All of my work is directed against those who are bent, through stupidity or design, on blowing up the planet or rendering it uninhabitable. Like the advertising people we talked about, I'm concerned with the precise manipulation of word and image to create an action, not to go out and buy a Coca-Cola, but to create an alteration in the reader's consciousness. You know, they ask me if I were on a desert island and knew nobody would ever see what I wrote, would I go on writing. My answer is most emphatically yes. I would go on writing for company. Because I'm creating an imaginary—it's always imaginary—world in which I would like to live.
The Vampire Diaries- Has It Jumped The Shark?

Changing gears a little….time to talk TVD.  TVD is going into its 6th season.  Any TV show that’s on the air that long is going to have issues keeping the plot fresh & exciting.  Especially one that revolves around a love triangle. 

I’m not going to lie, Season 5 was rough for me.  I’m not talking specifically as a Stelena shipper - although I will admit that is a source of some pain.  I respect the fact that in the course of a TV show, based on a love triangle, each side of the triangle needs its time in the sun.  It’s Delena’s time in the sun. I don’t have an issue with Elena being with Damon if it makes sense narrative wise.  I remember when Elena died in the S3 finale, after I picked myself up from the puddle of tears, I was really excited.  I said to my husband, “They figured out a way to do it - how to split Elena in half.  Stefan will have human Elena’s love and Damon will have vampire Elena’s love.”  I knew the moment Elena said “I never unfell for him” that S4 would be about Elena “unfalling” for Stefan. I accepted that becoming a vampire would create darker tendencies in Elena.  Logically, that would make her more compatible with Damon.  I was also interested to see Damon & Elena try to make a go of it. See? I’m a reasonable Stelena shipper.  I can share.

However, after Season 4 and Season 5, I’ve decided that my issues with TVD are so much bigger than Stelena vs. Delena.  And from the drop in ratings, it looks like I’m not the only one.  Its left me wondering if TVD has jumped the shark.

Maybe yes, maybe no.  However, I do believe the problem with TVD, in my humble opinion, can be boiled down to two main issues: Mythology and Elena (side note - this is NOT an Elena hate anthology so just bear with me).

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

What do you think about the Serendine x Sinbad ship? I don't like it :/

Oh hi anon, what do I think? I have been thinking about it for a long time already. Only those who follow me on twitter know.

I usually don’t write negative opinions on tumblr, however if you ask me directly I definitely will.

So….the usual warnings: If you like the pairing too much and are sensitive, don’t read this. I’m not gonna be rude but still I’m gonna be brutally honest. Also this is gonna be LONG, so bring a drink and chill while you read.

I usually separate the ship names and character names so they don’t get tagged automatically on tumblr, but since anony has already written their names this is gonna show in the recent stuff of the tags, just in case I’m gonna tag it “anti”.

Anyway here we go:

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

So, the new sneak “peek” that is basically the whole episode (probably followed with some redundant, silly “twist” that sets up next season), it confirms everything we (the SQ fandom) have ever criticized, no? :(

Oh, how I wish I could tell you ‘let’s wait and see’ and give them benefit of a doubt, Greyface. But unfortunately I have kind of ran out of suspension of disbelief, intelligent explanations (slash justifications) as well as any and all patience. Simply because while S2 offered meandering and inconsistent plot-of-the-week writing, S3 and what can only be seen as gaypanic (sorry, there is no other logical explanation for sudden onslaught of all of the violently forced heteronormativity – romantic pining, love triangles, true loves, soulmates and other bullshit reducing once ‘strong female characters’ to love interests, ironically shown from the perspective of adoring (puppyloving, stalkerish or both – take your pick) men. You know, our heroines needing their love (or whatev) to ‘complete’ them and ‘aid’ them, as validation of their character progress - as an ultimate ‘happy ending’?

Yes. Vile.

Anyone still remembers that this was supposed to be a show about mothers and daughters and strong female characters, rather than flat and bland Disney princesses, damsels in distress? Multidimensional characters who embody traits that are both stereotypically masculine and feminine, enough to redefine stereotyping? Well, that was a crock of shit, obviously. While ironically the joke was on us, simply because we gave them too much (undeserved) credit, believing their ambitious promises to give us a spanking-fresh, modern rewrite of ‘iconic stories’ with an ‘original twist’. Which was how it all started, yes? But then mid S2 onward, things went from bad to insufferably bad. And why? Simply because they changed their ‘focus’ (if they ever had it to start with, that is) from character/dynamics driven stories to ‘romance’ driven conflicts. Because, ratings. And gosh, all the dashing men (tho’ I’m tempted to use singular here, due to Collin being the only rascally handsome lad this straight girl quirked her eyebrow at, because no – just because I want to see Regina happy I do not immediately want her to end up with first interested dude, and no I do NOT have to find him dashing, in fact quite the opposite – Maguire is a total and complete turnoff for me, and I’m not just talking about his atrocious spelling) that could attract teenage girl viewership. Gasp.

And then of course, all those annoyingly loud and rude delusional SQ-ers. Doh. Maybe excess amounts of ‘mainstream’ romances would finally show them that this is not a show that’ll give them what they want, but hey – they can still be goaded on with a simple ‘keep watching’ because they’re a modest bunch, happy with the crumbs? Yes. It pains me to say, but I still believe that, when they became aware of existence of that following, it was probably like “oops, look at this piece of turd we stepped into” and after a while they deliberately tried to clean their shoes (CC) so – S3, all the abusive/misogynist/badboy whitewashing, all the female-leads suddenly being in the dire need of big strong and dashing men (and their assistance in them ‘reaching inwards’ and persevering in their struggle to ‘accept self’ and of course, strive towards happiness, with said men?), the compulsory heteronormativity (and the imminent homophobia coming from the GA part of the fandom) all of it – is deliberate in its clumsiness. Like their PR. Like their awkward handling of anything, really.

You know, like their utterly inept writing.

Because let’s be blunt, most of us here kept watching ONLY for Regina Mills since all other characters (if they haven’t been inferior to start with, that is) have been assassined. And after 60 episodes, if we summarize the plummeting curve of her ‘development’ like this:

S1 – exposition: as believably flawed, three-dimensional character with a lot of substance, depth and an incredible anti-hero potential.

S2 – her at moments unconvincingly feeble flips between ‘good’ and ‘evil’ (for the sake of EQ being awesome and old Regina being boring when ‘good’?) are fast enough to give you a whiplash.

S3 – spectacularly inconsistent and ridiculously out of character (apparently their idea of her ‘in-transition persona’ between young and innocent Regina and EQ – entails her acting like a giddy and giggly pre-teen with a crush, with obligatory ‘sassiness’ even when it’s inappropriate and flat) basically dwelling between incredible ‘development’ (quite literally so, she can love deeply without a heart and has white magic now because… she chooses it?) and ridiculously inappropriate EQ-ish bitchiness and “bring it, I’ll kick your ass because black is my colour” ‘tude.

Apart from familiar awe-inspiring cleavage, smirk and an eyebrow quirk – who the fuck IS this woman anymore? Because I don’t know about you, but I can’t force myself to give two fiddly fucks about this clumsy development we are being given (and lines like “heroes don’t kill” or “I make my own destiny”, while ironically she’s accepting Hood, a choice made FOR her not BY her – are for their target audience, which is now evident – preteens?) because I can’t fucking recognize her anymore.

I once said around early S3 that it was fantastically schizoid. In terms of giving us some very good character development, going back to great character dynamics we actually cared about – all the while ‘plotting up’ some inanely asinine action-stories, ridiculous villains (yeah, I give even less fucks about Zelena than I did about Pan – I hate overboard, cartoonishly ‘actored’ villains that had zero-to-none buildup, sue me) and along the way it became painfully, vibrantly, screamingly clear that they apparently know fuck all about writing consistent and plausible character development and plotting anything but stereotypical ‘hero’ development. With a side dish of stereotypical clichés, tropes and banal deus ex machine resolutions. Good is still rewarded (in a form of a love of a good man?) evil is punished (the loss of a love of a good man?) and right and wrong, as well as character plight in between - are tailored to pander the target audience.

Coming from a show that (in/directly) promised to redefine the archetypal female roles indoctrinated through traditional fairytales?

A crock of shit, indeed.