open cube

Got Me Good (Archie x Reader Oneshot)

You and Archie are best friends, who happen to flirt with each other. Everyone thinks it’s obvious you’re smitten with each other but neither of you have the courage to say anything. One night at a party a little liquid courage helps ease the tension.

Characters: Archie x Reader, Betty, Veronica, Jughead, Kevin.

Warnings: Heated making out, underage drinking.

Word Count: 1457


Originally posted by misunderstood-adventures

As was tradition on a Saturday night in Riverdale, we were getting ready to head to a party at Thornhill. We arranged to get ready at Betty’s. Her parents were away for the weekend plus she was the most trustworthy, nobody’s parents would bat an eyelid at the innocent sleepover we proposed. I rang the doorbell and was greeted by Veronica.

‘Oh thank god, you’re here. I’m having a major outfit crisis!’ I hid a laugh as we walked upstairs, Veronica had the biggest wardrobe out of us all and yet she was the one with the crisis.

‘Yay, you’re here!’ Betty jumped up and hugged me, with one side of her hair curled and the other straight. We were definitely getting into party mode.

‘So what’s this outfit emergency?’ I dared to ask. Veronica stood with a dress in either hand. Each looked exquisitely made, clearly designer.

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It’s no secret that foreign idols face poor treatment in kpop, but it isn’t always talked about or at least discussed in detail. CLC member Sorn is from Thailand and she recently spoke out about how she and her member Elkie from Hong Kong have been getting screwed over and not receiving payment simply because they are foreigners, while the other korean members are receiving money properly. She apparently filed to receive 100% of the royalties she deserves and hopes that things will change for other foreigners as well. We don’t know which foreigners are also facing this but given the history, it’s safe to assume it happens quite often.

Interviewer: the word “royalties”….

Sorn: Oh. My. God.

Int: the word “royalties” and “copyright”. It’s interesting. Why did you have to do research on them?

Sorn: um…I’m not saying that I know it that well 100%, I haven’t done deep research on it. The company (cube) opens a bank account for all the artists. We can go check the money. I asked where the money coming into the bank account came from. They said it’s the money you got from royalties by people who played clc songs and used it, the money goes into the bank account afterwards. It’s a system where the money coming from royalties don’t have to go trough the company. The company doesn’t have to pass the money over because it goes straight into the bank account. To the artist, producer, song writer, person who sang the chorus, the singers, the engineers, etc. Anyone who helped make the song. The money goes straight into the bank account so the company won’t have to give it out separately.

Int: so that means the company opens a personal bank account?

Sorn: yes

Int: have you talked about what this bank account is?

Sorn: actually…I go to check the bank account to see if the money has come in yet because it normally comes in after a promotion has ended. My friend said that her money has been put in already so I figured I’d go check to see if mine’s been put in. When I went to check, the money from a year ago promotion was still there. (There was no change) So I thought “why don’t I have…why didn’t my money get put in?” But my 6 members, wait 5 members had theirs? I went to ask Elkie (from Hong Kong) to go check her one and she didn’t have her money either. I thought “what? Why don’t the foreigners have their money put in?” I started to think too much and wondered, “hey! Did they scam us or what?” “What happened to the money and our bank accounts?” I went to ask the company why the money didn’t get put into our accounts. When I looked at the numbers it was different from the other members.

Int: in the group clc, how many korean members are there?

Sorn: there’s five Koreans.

Int: so there’s five Koreans and two foreigners: you and this person from Hong Kong.

Sorn: yes.

Int: when you checked the account from the royalties, the money wasn’t put in.

Sorn: it’s not that the mine wasn’t put in, it was the same money from before. From a year ago. So it means that there was no change, no new money has been put in. There wasn’t a ‘big’ amount of money like the others.

Int: the others who are korean.

Sorn: Yeah. It’s not like I REALLY want money (Sorn comes from a wealthy family. Her dad works for the prime minister of Thailand), I’m just wondering how many foreigners are like this in the system. I asked the company what happened and why they are late. They said that they went to research and said “oh, the royalties is slow because…the royalties you have, imagine there’s ABCD. you only got A and haven’t got BCD yet because you’re a foreigner.”

Int: ohh because you’re a foreigner

Sorn: yes. But the korean members have the BCD (the current royalties they earned). But I’m a person who doesn’t give up. Like…I’m not stupid. It’s not that I’m not stupid but I have to know why. The company said that “because your country doesn’t have these laws there’s nothing they can do about it” the money that people get is already reserved so I thought “what is the korean law?” What do I have to do to make the law…like… if there was anything I could do to make Thailand artists to make the same amounts, I would do it. I would have to sign another contract in Korea for another 6 years, if I don’t have it then I would feel greedy.

Based off of this it made me wonder if she even received payment A on time. Who knows how many other foreign idols are facing the same or worse treatment. Doing the same labor as others and receiving way less pay all because of your nationality? That’s so gross and I hope Sorn fights hard to get what she (and probably others) deserve.

Flirting With Disaster

A/N: Happy Birthday to @constellunaa! I saw your beautiful drawing of Laxus and Cobra and thought ‘hey what if she actually ships it?’ and then wrote 6.5K of it in hopes that you actually do lmao.

If not, have some hint of nalu bcus I am so sorry

Part of my deaf!Natsu college au bcus I’m a slut for continuing universes! Also shout out to @papalogia for putting up with me yelling about this and for helping with some of the words. Natsu and Cobra are cousins, with Indian!Igneel and his unnamed brother who is Cobra’s dad. 

Also praise @rivendell101 for helping me title it! Apparently I’m useless without my friends :D


Pairing: Cobraxus, Nalu, Fairy tail

Words: 6515

Rating: M for language

Part: Oneshot

Laxus wanted to die, and not just because of his pounding headache or the fact that he was in an eight AM lab for fucking chemistry of all things. No, Laxus wanted the sweet embrace of death -or maybe to plead for manslaughter on account of insanity- because of his benchmate.

“Could you please make your stomach make disgusting noises quieter? I’m trying to measure out our chemicals, considering you’re going to be useless today.”

Laxus narrowed his eyes at his labmate, thinking of other uses for the sodium hydroxide solution that was being poured from the erlenmeyer flask to a petri dish.

“Stop looking at me like it’s my fault you decided to do jagerbombs instead of sleeping like a normal human being with an eight AM.”

Laxus scowled. The dude wasn’t even able to see his face, eye on Laxus’ side closed from a nasty looking scar. Laxus felt his own scar over his right eye twinge in sympathy, line thinner than the other boy’s. “How’d you know what I was drinking?” he asked, tongue fuzzy and thick in his mouth and voice rough with disuse. He sounded like his dad, and Laxus wished for another double jager to push back that unwelcome comparison.

“Because you reek of licorice, red bull, and regret.”

Laxus snorted, grinning as he scrawled down the fourth trial’s measurement in his lab notes. “I showered.”

“Don’t feel bad,” the boy drawled, sealing the vacuum box the petri dish now resided in before they turned on the chlorine gas, “it’s a stench that permeates engineering students.”

Laxus frowned, wanting to bite back against the generalization of his major, but flashbacks to the group of twenty somethings doing keg stands and flip cup after their last electrical midterm stopped him. His labmate wasn’t exactly wrong.

But his class had fucking earned going a little wild, especially after the hell that was the four hour midterm of Jose’s quantum nuclear midterm. Laxus was pretty sure that time length wasn’t even allowed by the school board, but seeing as how his grandfather was at a bit of a cold war with the dean, Laxus wasn’t about to say shit.

“Well I’m sure you biology kids know all about the danger of popping illegal prescription pills, don’t you?” he snarked. He had yet to meet one that wasn’t permanently shaking from a near overdose of Adderall, struggling to stay awake to finish making their four hundredth flash card.

“I’m not a biology major,” he said flicking on the highly poisonous gas with the most uncaring expression Laxus has seen on something besides his mirror.

Laxus eyed him critically. “Only biology majors are actually interested in chemistry labs,” he said finally, watching the plastic cube in front of him as the gas reacted with the solution.

“What about chem students?” he asked flatly, switching off the gas lever after the thirty seconds had passed on the stopwatch.

“Those freaks can do this shit in their sleep and try to go and set shit on fire under the fume hoods.” Laxus said just as flatly as his lab partner, focusing on writing down the chemical equations involved in their experiment. “If you aren’t biology then why the hell are you in this lab then?” Laxus asked. He knew why he was there, stupid requirement for his degree saying he need at least a 200 level in each of physics, chem, and bio. Not that Laxus fucking understood why he needed to know how bases and ions reacted to make deadly gases, considering he was going to be an electrical engineer.

Fucking reqs.

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Day 11: Mr. And Mrs. Jefferson

Prompt: spy/secret agent reader and Thomas doesn’t know about it.


You polished your glasses, making sure that even the smallest piece of dust was gone. The man across from you tapped his fingers against the table, clearly agitated. He was cuffed to the table, one hand outstretched and the other close to the edge of the table. It wasn’t you that decided to do that. In fact, your chief insisted that he’d be cuffed. But not for the safety of you.

For the safety of the man.

“Are you just going to sit there and scrub your glasses the whole fucking time? I thought this was an interrogation?” His spit was spreafing everyone, and you narrowly avoided one of the drops.

You smiled.

“Why? You got somewhere to be?” You asked, putting your glasses back on. He frowned.

“Listen here, bitch-”

You punched him across the face, feeling one of his teeth crack underneath your knuckles. You pulled your hand back, wiggling it.

“Damn, that hurt…” You pouted, glancing at him. The side of his lip was bleeding, and he spat out a tooth. You grinned, “Oh, are you okay? Do you need some water?”

“Fuck. You. A girl slap to the face isn’t going to make me tell you shit. So, suck my-”

“Whoa there, kid. No need to ask for something you can’t handle,” You interrupted, “Please, be more respectful son.”

He rolled his eyes, his fingers clenching. Ha, you loved it when they got riled up over small words. It told you that they were an easy target.

You stood up, adjusting your cuffs and taking the pen out of your hair, “Now, what were we talking about? Oh yea, the transferring of millions of dollars into an account in Russia. And a little bird told me you were deeply involved.”

He laughed, “Like I said, bitch-”

You slammed your pen into his open palm. He screamed, looking at the injury stick out of his hand. You clicked your tongue, shaking your head.

“Wow, that looks pretty bad. It’ll probably get an infection, and you’ll have to get that jacking off hand sliced from your wrist. What a pity.”

He cursed, looking up at you, “What the hell do you want?” His breath was shaky, and you were sure he was going to pass out any second. George would be pissed the you didn’t Get any information before he couldn’t speak anymore.

You clapped your hands, laughing happily, “Yay! Finally, the words I was waiting for. Let’s start from the beginning!”


You threw your bag on the table, letting out a sigh. It was three in the morning, and you’ve missed dinner with your boyfriend of 4 years, Thomas. You knew that he was probably pissed, like usual. And it wasn’t like you could tell him what was going on. Being a spy for the government wasn’t something you could just say casually. And you had eyes on you from everywhere. You wouldn’t be surprised if they had small cameras around the house.

You walked into the kitchen, seeing Thomas asleep on the table. Candles that were probably lit, were a puddle of dry wax on the table. Your food was covered with plastic wrap, and he didn’t touch his. Your eyes dropped to the half empty bottle of wine. A small happy anniversary card was on your seat. You picked it up, reading through it quickly.

Thomas stirred, stretching out his arms. He opened his eyes, their gaze landing on yours. It was happy at first, until he glanced at the clock on the wall. He immediately frowned.

“Thomas, I-”

He held up his hand, shaking his head, “Don’t explain, I already know what you’re going to say. It was a long day at the office, and you lost track of time. George wouldn’t let you out and you’re sorry for missing dinner the hundredth time in a row. I’ve heard the excuses. Just spare me this one, please.”

He stood up, “I think we’re done here.”

He tossed a small box on the table. Your heart dropped. It was a cube, and you definitely knew what was inside. You grabbed the cube, opening it slowly. Inside, a ring shined on you, and a small light peeked out from under the velvet. Your eyes watered, and you glanced up at Thomas. He grabbed his jacket off the coat rack, and walked to the door.

“Thomas, please, just wait-”

“I think I’ve waited enough in my life,” He said, wrapping his scarf around his neck, “Don’t you think?” He took out his umbrella, peering out the window, “I’m going to the bar. Dont wait up for me, not that you would, anyway.”

Your phone vibrated, Washington’s number appearing on the screen. He frowned, grabbing his gloves.

“If I didn’t know you better, I would think you were cheating on me. And I really hope that’s not the case.” He opened the door.

“I don’t work an office job!” You yelled, stopping him in his tracks. He looked at you, the door halfway open. He closed it slowly, his eyebrows furrowed.

“What?” He said.

“I don’t file papers all night. I don’t sit in a cubicle writing bullshit all day,” You knew this was a bad idea. But he was going to leave you, and you couldn’t let this happen. You were definitely going to be on the run for the rest of your life.

“I’m a spy for the United States government. I interrogate terrorists, national security threats, and arms traders. I’ve been hiding it from you because I didn’t want you involved, and because I have to. I wasn’t even supposed to be in a significant relationship but they allowed me because I’m important to the organization.”

He closed the door all the way, taking off his jacket and putting it on the hook. He looked at you, his face in a straight line. “I believe you, Y/N.”

He walked over to you, touching your face softly. You closed your eyes, and felt his hands wrap around your neck. You opened your eyes quickly, and his pupils turned dark, looking at you.

“And now I have to kill you.”


“According to Pythagoreans, the cube is a symbol of both matter and man, the opening of the cube being a symbol of the unfoldment of man and the releasing of geometric mysteries within himself. To the Christian, Christ is the perfect man; therefore, he becomes the embodiment of the perfect measure of a man, the cube. In Freemasonry, the perfect ashlar or trued stone is the proper figure of the perfect man, for he is square, upright, and true, which are the moral qualities of a cube. The perfect cube represents the personality that has had all the uneveness, roughness, and inequality polished away by experience. Such a stone is ready to become a block in the Everlasting House not built by hands but eternal in the heavens." 

- Manly P. Hall: The Lost Keys of Freemasonry

(x) Permission given by the Artist, please support her as well!

Part 1, Part 2

Yall need closure and I love it XD Also, I’ll combined the Infinite requests, I can use them together :)c


In a hazy room full of cubes… monitors seemed removed from the area as if it was reconstructed as a steel-prison, Amy slowly awoke to find herself laying on some floating cubes, hovering up and down.

In panic, she threw herself off and stumbled upon getting up, looking around.

“…Still think you’re right?”

She gasped and turned around, but saw nothing.

Her eyes squinted through the haze, but nothing was there…

Suddenly, the scene shifted as Infinite stood perfectly still in front of her, the cubes floating around her were giving her an illusion… he folded his arms and stared straight at her.

“Y..yes.” Amy had to take a second, her body felt heavy and her eyes were hurting.

Where was she?

How long had she been separated from Sonic?

“…Then.” he closed his eye.

“…I’ll have to make you wrong.”

He lifted his head up and slowly opened his eye.

The cubes flew around and then charged her, pining her up in the air and spreading her out as she struggled but each limb was tugged out and held in place.

He floated up a moment, lightly moving a claw to her face…

“If I can’t have the power of which you speak…”

She struggled, trying to move her head from his grasps. Her grunts and strains only made him remove his hand, looking more intent on whatever he was planning to do…

“Then I’ll simply take it from you.”

He took, daintily, a cube that was floating around into his hand.. and twisting it slightly in his hand…

He shoved it into her.

At first, Amy’s painful cry indicated she was resisting it, but with further aggressive propelling, he was able to push it within her being and it disappeared.

Her eyes started to flicker and she flung her head around.

“W-What…” she cried out, “Have you done to.. to me!?!? AHHH!!!!”

She fainted in the pain.

When waking up, she looked around,…

She was lying on the ground, and once again she felt weak and heavy….

Her eyes strained once more…

Through the fog..


Amy’s ears didn’t hear anything… but a voice suddenly shifted in her mind, and she looked up.

From the fog… Sonic’s form appeared, standing strong above her.

“Sonic..” her eyes flickered and dilated.

“Sonic!!!” She jumped up, embracing her love-time love as she held him and cried, before all feeling seemed to be drained from her.

“I… I missed you so much…”

Sonic’s hand began to lift to her side…..

As Infinite’s replaced it in image, and held her closer.

In a truly evil laugh, he rose it up to almost a howl of wicked pleasure and delight.

He had won.

He was now right.

Sonic raced on when Tails finally told him why Chaos was so adamant about trying to destroy him.

With lightning speed, he slid to a cliff where Infinite had told him to meet him…

Looking at his communicator, that also held a map and location device, he scanned around for any sign of him.

Already growing frustrated, and not sure what Infinite truly wanted with Amy… he clenched his fists and swung his head around.

“INFFFINIATE!!!” he called out. “Show yourself, you coward! What have you done with Amy!?”

A husky laugh was heard… one that still crawled up the skin and left cold chills in it’s wake, stabbing at the wounded heart and crushing the soul in it’s very sound…

Sonic hunched slightly, his face showing a bit of a fear for the first time- but not for himself- but for what this creep may want with Amy…

“Let her go! Where is she!?” Sonic almost spun himself completely around in a twirl of sorts, positioning himself direction in front of Infinite.

Infinite chuckled lightly from his loud laughter a moment ago…

He knew he had won.

He swiped his hand out and cubes came flying around him.

One… in particular a mass of them, remained by his side.

“You long to see her so… desperately?” he smirked under his mask.

“Very well…”

He looked as though he was about to- NO! He attacked!

Flying straight for Sonic, he began to tussle with him, leading him closer and closer to the edge…

“Er, grr, rah!” Sonic fought but was pushed to the edge and grabbed by cubes down by his foot.

“Wha-huh!?” He rotated his arms in swirls, before looking down to behold them starting to engulf him.

“H-hey! Play fair!” he felt them forcing his hands down to his sides, tightening around him, before leaning him horizontally off the edge… still clinging to the cliff side.

“…Do you know… What cliff this is?” Infinite raised a hand, walking over the cubes that created a small, broken bridge over Sonic’s captured body.

Sonic still struggled, not looking down before moving his head to glance over his shoulder at the drop.

His eyes widened, suddenly recognizing the terrain.

“This is where…”

“Yeesss…. Where you’re friend and I first squared off in ideologies.” he lifted the other hand up, as if his mind was elsewhere, he began to monologue.

“Every since that day… I’ve despised your friend… And that’s when I realized… I believed her.”

He suddenly shifted his eye down to Sonic, narrowing it in rage.

“Her foolish notions and idiotic ranting actually opened my eyes to a reality of new life… new… power untouched!

“Which eye?” Sonic smirked, still trying to play it cocky.

Infinite was momentarily snapped out of his venting, and looked down a bit offended at Sonic’s interruption.

He laughed again.

“You’re friend claimed that… hope and love.. could save you all.”

He bent to a knee.

Even me…”

“How’s that working out for ya?”

“Well…” he crooked his neck, looking over to the mass of cubes. “Better I’d say then you… if I can’t have that untapped power… why not- steal it?”

Sonic’s mouth suddenly hung a bit open and he looked to the mass, not sure what Infinite was getting at.

The cubes in the air all dispersed to reveal Amy, who gently floated to the ground.

Her eyes blinked and she beheld her Sonic, nothing more.

“Sonic… Oh, Sonic!!!” she ran forward.

“Amy!” Sonic struggled in his trap, but was still laying down over the side of a huge drop! “Hang on, Amy! I’m-!”

Infinite, while Sonic kept answering, rose up and turned to her, before she embraced him and happily went on with her doting remarks for … ‘Sonic’.

“Oh! Where have you been!? I’ve been so bored without you, ya know. You really shouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Sonic’s whole being seemed to slow down rapidly.. as his eyes scanned the strange moment between the two…

Infinite tenderly looked to her and lightly took a quill and began to affectionately stroke it out.

“You see..? How easy it is to acquire anything I so desire… even ‘eternal power’ as she called it.. but you know what I’ve discovered through… unlocking this… unknown power?”

He suddenly smacked Amy to the ground.

“Ow.!” Amy flinched on the ground, gripping her torn ear….

Sonic’s eyes widened, shifting to thrust his head up, “NO!”

Infinite chuckled into another maniacal laugh again.

He rose his head up and turned to look at his hands.

“You see..? Why take the power… when I could destroy it?”


“W-what did I do wrong..?” Amy’s tears covered all of Sonic’s vision… as he suddenly violently tensed from within the grasps of the cubes…

“You did nothing wrong…” Infinite turned back to her from over his shoulder, and spoke as if kindly to her.

In Amy’s mind, she looked up to see her hero, a wicked look in his face, speaking as if in Sonic’s cocky and arrogant voice.

I just think pain is stronger than beauty.”


Sonic suddenly started to turn savage, his fur turning more darker as he broke from the cubes, causing Infinite to fly up and watch as Sonic tumbled down.

“…Fool.” he moved towards Amy, picking her up as she clutched her ear in still pain.

“…Yes… I think I’ve found something more.. powerful than your hope and love…”

He pinched her ear, moving her hand that was defending it away, and taking pleasure from her wincing away.



“Hmm?” Infinite turned in shock suddenly, getting whammed into by a rocket-speeding hedgehog.

“UGH!” his eye flinched in a violent vibration, being carried higher and higher into the atmosphere.

“What is this!?!” he was amazed by Sonic’s immense and wild power.

“How is this possible?!”

“SHE.” Sonic gritted his teeth together, his eyes turning white.

“WAS.” through the intense airspeed, he reached a hand slowly up through the pressure of breaking the stratosphere and wrapped a gripping hand around a stunned and frozen Infinite.



A power of great quantities suddenly engulfed the two. All the cubes, with Infinite’s spread power flew rapidly in the air like backwards rain; being called in his hour of need.

The power was so great… this.. negative chaos, stirred by immense, raw emotion he had never seen nor witnessed before.

He strained to push Sonic back, feeling reality shift so quickly around them into black and white lines… thus was how fast Sonic was rocketing him out of the known universe.

“It… It’s… imp…imposs….ible….” He was straining against the pressure, more so against the squeezing sensation around his throat.

His eye widened then, Amy’s voice coming to mind.

Hate, power, force… it isn’t eternal. Those things wash away with time and corrosion… It’s unfulfilling. Some even call it-


He felt his body giving way on him… his hands that were holding somewhat Sonic’s power back suddenly gave way…

Waning in consciousness…

A power you can never possess! Or control! A power that is both infinite and ever-lasting! Infinite only means your power never wanes, but eternity means it never dies! Never stops growing! Infinite is simply reaching ones limits of absoluteness! 

His eye began to roll back into it’s socket… Each word she spoke was perfectly relaying in the back of his mind… As though he could relive the exact scene… that voice..

Her voice…

But what I have and know to be greater reaches no limitations, no end, and no possible way of stopping it from advancing far into the eternities of time and space!

“I…” losing oxygen and the will to live, Infinite….


If you’ve seen every possibility.. then you have to know- Love has no bounds, and Hope can’t be defeated!

This is not the dimension where I die!

                  “This is the dimension.. where you realize you lose!

Dark Sonic suddenly quoted the rest- as the cubes all around Sonic, trying to catch up to his speed, suddenly exploded.

Amy… still out of it and mind-controlled on the ground, felt a searing pain as the cube sped out of her being, and twitched violently in the air.

Amy got her hammer out.. still weak from it’s effects, and slammed it down on the cube, as it exploded anyway.

She panted, before looking up to see the explosions of what looked to be stars out in the sky.

“…Ha….Ha… You can’t replace love, Infinite… you can only manipulate it.” she fainted then.

Waking up, she saw Sonic holding her close, his head down with slight sounds of mourning, before her eyes batted to life and she held a hand to his lowered face.

“…Emm… Son… Sonic..?”

He rose his head up in a quick jerk, and looked back to her.


She smiled.

“Told ya…” she beamed, but weakly so as he helped her lean on his shoulder.

“Heh. You sure did.” he wiped something from his eyes and then smiled back to her, having tended her hurt ear and head already.

“…Love.. never dies…” she felt weak, and started to fade again.

“Woah-woah-woah! Hey now!” Sonic caught her from sliding off of him and tried to keep her up. “Amy, you can’t faint again… I … I need you to keep celebrating with me, alright?”

“… Is he..?”

“…No.” Sonic turned his head away, as if feeling like a failure.

“He teleported through dimensions… I think he’s too weak to come back anytime soon though…”

“Heh. More time to reflect on.. erk… me being right.” she lightly gloated, a small giggle escaping her soft breaths over her lips.

“…Amy…” Sonic tenderly looked down at her, worried.

“…Is this all he did to you?” he tried to hold it together, act calm, but Amy could tell as his hand reached to test her ear- that he held himself back in more rage.

Light blue turned darker still… and she stopped him before his imagination ran just as wild as his feet.

“No.” she gripped his hand.

“I’m…” she started to slip away.

“Amy..?” He felt her hand loosen and quickly pulled her up again.

“Amy! Stay with me! Come on!”

“I told you… you shouldn’t.. emm… be worried…” she was…. she was-!!!

“Amy…” In her blur, she noticed something clear falling from Sonic’s face…

Her mind failed her in comprehending it, only lasting on last thought…

“…This… is the universe…”

“Where we won.” Sonic clutched her hand, “But I can’t celebrate until you promise me… promise me you’ll be alright.”

He held her hand up to try and lift her, but she fell back and laid down, forcing him to move over her.

“Amy… Please...”

For the first time, Amy heard something in Sonic’s voice she couldn’t recognize, something unfamiliar to her.

A loss of all hope?

“Sonic.. don’t lose… hope…” she barely got the words out, before fainting out of existence again.

The teams all stated Sonic would spend hours by her bedside, still fighting a now doomed Eggman, but coming back to tell her all about it.

Her coma was induced from the heavy, drug-like, effects done to her brain… she was like a breathing vegetable for a while…

Her body recovered faster than her brain did.

Sonic proved her right time and time again, always coming in with another exciting story, showing his heart by acting it out and getting excited as if she was reacting to him.

Over and over he would imagine her laugh, her smile, and even a light flirtation that he knew wasn’t so ‘light’ in the end.

He would play with this pretend.. never giving up… never surrendering to Infinite’s lies.

He knew.

He was proving it to the rest of the teams, the world even.

When sitting by her bedside as usual, and finally seeing her stir to life, and open her eyes to smile at him-

He knew he was proving it true. 

That Amy was right.

Mona Hatoum: Familiarly unfamiliar, powerfully playful

Mona Hatoum @ Tate Modern until 21 August 2016

Hatoum views and reviews the world, our world. Humanity, fragility, vulnerability, utility, existentiality. Hatoum’s world is reductive, unstable, simultaneously occupying and preoccupied by, liminal spaces. Trust nothing and no one; do not trust the feeling of distrust… “the feeling of not being able to take anything for granted, even doubting the solidarity of the ground you walk on.” As Hatoum describes in an interview in 1997.

Mona Hatoum Socle Du Monde, 1992-1993 © Mona Hatoum. Courtesy White Cube Gallery

 Opening with Hatoum’s furry mammoth sculpture Socle Du Monde, 1992-3, we are already confronted by the vulnerability, untouchability, unmoveability of her work, especially the sculptural pieces. These works which exist on a knife edge, steel shavings cling tightly to the surface of a cube, they form uncontrollable, beautiful patterns which weave like inside out intestines, choking the form they are attracted to by a magnet. This work summarises Hatoum’s marrying of the visual languages of both surrealism and minimalism (for which one imagines a cube as the pin up!).

What is immediately striking, on entry to the exhibition, is the persistent buzz. In volume it varies, but it’s presence is undeniable, unignorable, unnerving. But nothing can be taken for granted, appearances are deceptive, Hatoum has built a practice from surrealist principle, double entendre, suggestion and smoke and mirrors all play their part. I’m thinking Meret Oppenheim’s Object (Le Déjeuner en fourrure) or, in the common tongue, ‘Fur Cup’, conjured perhaps due the pelagic connotations of Socle Du Monde or her use of real hair, albeit human as opposed to animal. I might further categorize Hatoum as a surrealist for like Oppenheim she combines certain eroticism with domesticity, a visual pun is implied, and the incongruity and impracticability of elements is highlighted.

Typically I am drawn to the bodily performances. As well represented as they are, I still yearn for their reenaction within this white cube space. The documentation, as interesting as it is, is cold and inscrutable. Considering this artist has objectified her audience for years I leave feeling unobjectified, and this, for once is a disappointment! The art work demands involvement from the viewer; physical and emotional. Frustratingly we are offered a kind of faux accessibility. We are offered the idea and the concept but it seems impotent in this cathedral of art.

Mona Hatoum Look No Body!
 Performance duration: 40 minutes

Live action with video monitor, sound tape, water hose and a stack of plastic cups 
Performed at The Basement Gallery. Courtesy White Cube

Hatoum seems quite preoccupied visions and notions of inside and out. In 1981’s  Look No Body Hatoum plays with notions of intimacy and privacy, preoccupied with bodily boundaries:          “…it’s just that often I wonder where my body ends… I mean what my boundaries are… whether it’s the skin… what’s about things like hair and nails, and you know, things that come out of the body in the form of urine, faeces, blood…where does it actually end?”   For the artist, the body is not only a fascinating subject, but a resource to be mined for materials (hair, bodily fluids), exposing it’s vulnerability and resilience.

There are difficulties in presenting art work of a performance genre, however these challenges aren’t apparent here. Performative works are represented by photographic or video documentation, detailed textual descriptions and accompanying diagrams (more formalized, considered and methodical than mere sketches). A truly formal, multi media presentation, varied and exciting despite it’s achromicity, save the occasional splashes of red. Red the colour of artists’. The colour of Anish Kapoor. The colour of Louise Bourgeois. The colour of Mona Hatoum.

Under Siege 1983, Hatoum enacts a ritual sculptural undoing. “A human figure reduced to a form covered in clay, trapped, confined within a small structure, struggling to stand up again and again … slipping and falling again and again…” the artist battling, struggling to survive, watched by voyeurs in the gallery who stand beyond the plastic sheet cubicle erected around her, a curtain, boundary, physical and psychological.

Mona Hatoum Under Siege, 1983.

By far my favorite work is Corps etranger. I like the concept, the execution, the presentation. We observe and are observed, the projection is an eye. It is fantastical, navigation through imagination, penetration. The viewer enters the womb, or cocoon, through a small gap, the video, installed within the floor, is sucking us inside. Its dark and we are in another world, we are inside, and in this place I do not feel claustrophobic, but comforted. And I am close to another human, so close I can see inside them. It is so intimate, I am seeing their unseen, their internal is external. It is so personal yet so universal, familiar, I could be seeing inside myself, Corps etranger is a mirror. After an initial sweeping survey of the body’s exterior, the skin is penetrated and we follow the camera probing through various orifices, objectified, invaded. I feel myself mesmerized, constantly ‘waiting for the drop’. Although violently invasive it is also gloriously calming, the seas of liquid washing the over camera, exposing new vistas of bodily matter, “You feel like you are on the edge of an abyss that can swallow you up, the devouring womb, the vagina dentate, castration anxiety…”  

Mona Hatoum Corps étranger
 (350 x 300 x 300 cm)
Video installation with cylindrical wooden structure, video projector, video player, amplifier and four speakers
Photo: Philippe Migeat. Courtesy White Cube Gallery

Hatoum assumes a literal closeness and implied distance from her audience, especially in her performative works. Video/Performance 1980 is highly confrontation and reminiscent of Vallie EXPORT’s Touch Cinema. The artist faces away from her audience and points a camera at herself, employing the method of synchronized camera and projection, a monitor shows her body as if it were unclothed. Using this forced voyeurism

Untitled – Drawing materials, made from Hatoum’s own body, using her skin, her hair, her nails, mixed with pulp. Human imperfections are elevated to masterpiece status, bodily detritus, usually discarded thoughtlessly is collected, revered and reinvented, creating a beautiful monument to the artist, subtle unconscious marks made by the body, embedded in new skins.

Mona Hatoum Untitled, drawing materials 

And finally I’m upon Homebound and the source of the threatening buzz is revealed as a disappointment. I notice the noise has not been continuous but ebbing and edging up to the point of orgasm, before it peters out, unsatisfied, spent. But the tension is built and thus the impuissance of the installation is rendered immaterial. I don’t hear it beyond this point in the exhibition. An apparition materialized and vanquished.

The Murano glass grenades (Natura Morta, 2012) are of course abhorrently beautiful, glittering like Christmas ornaments, so desirable, so antithetical, a guilty pleasure. Lots of the objects appear to quite ‘Freudian’, in that they wouldn’t be out of place on the psychoanalyst’s desk. Hatoum poses notions of the familiar against the uncanny. There is horror in beauty and beauty in horror. I am overcome with conflicting emotions of desire and revulsion, fear and fascination. And I know I am playing into her hands.

Mona Hatoum, Natura Morta, 2012, Murano glass and medical cabinet. Courtesy GALLERIA CONTINUA.

The refusal to display the works chronologically results in a more unified presentation of Hatoum’s whole practice. The works are not allowed to cluster by genre and as a result they are afforded space. Within these spaces meaning is allowed to develop, and their resilient, unrelenting nature causes them to restrict the viewer, oppressing them and instigating anxiety nightmares or suggesting sinister happenings.

Hot Spot, is the showpiece it promises to be, I pace, trying to resist it, while I try (unsuccessfully) to look at the other pieces in the room, the beguiling abaca Projection, 2006, for instance. I then circle it’s orange glow, attracted like a bug to an ultraviolet fly trap. I stare at it and away and everything else in the room appears in a haze of blue. The hot orange ‘vibrates’, as I am simultaneously attracted and repelled. I admit I leave satisfied, as Hatoum has directed an unmitigated episode, involving body, senses, mind, emotions and imagination. But ultimately, as in Hot Spot, the world is a cage.

Mona Hatoum Hot Spot III 2009 © Mona Hatoum. Photo: Agostino Osio Courtesy Fondazione Querini Onlus, Venice

Review by Alison Humphrey

anonymous asked:

Max opens up the companion cube and finds David's body. Then Glados!David pops in ; "Oh! I was wondering where that went..."


If this is the guilty version of the David AI who maybe did this to hide the test subjects he’s killed, imagine how horrified he’d be

But there’s also something hilarious about David not realizing that humans are horrified by other dead humans. Like, he just smiles at Max and doesn’t change in demeanor whatsoever.

“Oh yes! This was the subject just before you! You had so much in common… you both screamed a lot… kind of like what you’re doing now……………… I… I sometimes have trouble understanding you, you know that Max?”

I could see this as a turning point, like when Max finally realizes that David is ACTUALLY going to get him killed, doesn’t know what he’s doing, and that he HAS to get out of there.


Period: Cube ~Torikago no Amadeus~ [ Ibara no Rakuen ] Opening Movie

anonymous asked:

Max accidentally opens up a companion cube (maybe due to thr field) and fucking.. Sees his friends dead body. Either he just screams or wakes up if its the dream arc

This is really Sad and Good For The Angst

If this boi wasn’t traumatized by extensive testing and the constant threat of death juxtaposed by an overly friendly AI that acts like it’s all fine… well……. he’s uh

Well he’s traumatized now