#longer than necessary but that's my m.o. these days
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Hello! 👻 I am not sure if this request would match your taste, so if not - just delete it without answering 😅 I was wondering if you could write some nsfw/suggestive headcanons for Law, Zoro and Ace (the heartthrob trio in my humble opinion *-*) reacting on their bigbreasted partner taking off her bra for the first time in their presence, during intimate situation maybe? You know, tits suddenly freed go woosh, much to reader's embarrassement and irritation. Thank you for considering! Have a wonderful day 💞
the heartthrob trio is right, your mind is so powerful. this is right up my alley, i support the ❤️🔥 big titty ❤️🔥 committee all day. also, embarrassing them is my specialty.
1.1k words, afab reader (no pronouns), nsfw (nipple play, public sex, etc. etc. the good stuff, yk); ace is a brat, law is shy, and zoro continues to be the number one menace.
check out the other version of this request feat. sanji, sabo, & shanks right here ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
it shouldn’t come as a surprise to him, but it does. yes, his eyes work perfectly fine—yes, he’s seen the way your clothes stretch across your chest; he already bears witness to their plushness every time you brush up against him. and yet, here he is, shocked into silence. you toss your bra onto the floor somewhere, undeterred and too aroused to care. you’re just happy you don’t have to wear it right now; he’s suddenly very happy to be alive. you smile at him, delicate brows raising slightly. he can’t take that either.
“you can touch them, y’know,” you suggest softly, almost sensually, hoping that’ll spur law back to life. he, however, needs just a little more time.
“okay, i know, just wait.” for what, he has no idea. when he’s managed to calm down enough, he finally is able to look at you. you decide to take pity on him, climbing onto his lap with little issue. you press a small, chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth; before you can pull back, his hand finds its way onto the back of your neck, holding you still as he kisses you properly. and when he rolls so you’re on your back, his mattress soft enough to make you think you’re laying on a cloud, you let out a soft whimper that only encourages him to continue. your breast mostly fits in his hand, so he takes his time exploring, lithe fingers tracing circles around your nipples, goosebumps prickling your skin as your back arches.
his mouth takes over, leaving kiss after kiss along the curve of your breasts before his tongue flicks against your hardened nipple, giving you the sort of high you’ve been chasing, your moans the only song he ever wants to listen to for the rest of his life. he’ll keep at it until you’re begging for him to fuck you—with his fingers, mouth, cock, you don’t care at this point really—and he will, in due time. for now, however, he’ll settle for memorizing the taste of your skin and your nails clawing at him in obvious frustration.
you hate being edged like that, but law revels in how powerless you are against him in this respect; it’s murderous and you vow to return the favor next time, tenfold.
he’s an idiot, but he’s not oblivious. so when your bra does come off, he curses whichever nameless demon invented those things. he thinks your breasts should never be confined like that—you’re inclined to agree, but keep the comment to yourself—and whenever you’re around him, don’t expect to keep it on for long, either. it’s fine with you, really, which only makes zoro that much more ravenous for you.
he catches you in a back hallway, has you pressed up against the wall, his leg in between your thighs, hands tugging your shirt up and revealing your breasts—your nipples hardening almost immediately, much to his pleasure. you hate how easily he can pull these sorts of reactions out of you, but you know that it’s futile; you’re as attracted to him as he is to you, it just goes with the territory. besides, the way he’s pinching and tugging on your nipples, almost makes you forget that you’re still very much in public and that anyone from your crew can spot you if they decide to come that way.
still, zoro doesn’t let up, his mouth wickedly playful, leaving bruising kisses all over your chest—he likes the way you can’t seem to keep quiet, and the way you keep rubbing against his erection is evidence enough. he should really take you somewhere else, but he knows you like the thrill, even if you don’t want to admit it; and he does too. you’re so annoyed at yourself and at him, but mostly at how skillful his hands and mouth are. if you had more self-preservation, you might be able to make it out unscathed, but you know better.
zoro isn’t the type to let you go that easy. and just when you think he can’t torture you any more—touching you and then not touching you—he slides his hand inside of your shorts and your panties, fingers parting your folds expertly, your pussy wet and ready for him. against your lips, he whispers filthy promises that light your skin on fire and you know better than to get sucked into his shenanigans again, but here you are, letting him finger you without a care in the world. the delusion almost makes it feel romantic.
he’s not sure how to handle you like this; you already drive him wild, your curves are lethal, your body even more so. your breasts are just the icing on the cake—a cake he’ll willingly devour at any time of the day, every single day of the year if you let him. so when you surprise him in the kitchen late one night—ace constantly searches for late night snacks throughout the week—he opts to feast on you instead. you’re panting lightly, chest heaving as he dives between your legs. you sit on top of the kitchen counter, guilt barely crossing your mind, as you spread your legs open wider, giving him access.
your shirt is somewhere behind him; he wants to see all of you properly, so you give him a little show, cupping your heavy breasts, kneading them as his mouth french kisses your pussy with purpose, your hips bucking, his tongue gliding along your slick folds, lapping up your wetness, savoring your taste for later when he thinks about you again. you find it difficult to hold it all in, hands trembling as you play with your nipples, lips clamped together tightly, muffling your moans as best as you can.
he looks up at you, his cock reminding him pitifully to stop neglecting it, but all in good time, right? for now, he just wants to taste you, to satisfy his insatiable hunger that only intensifies whenever you’re around him. maybe it’s really just you; he doubts he can ever have enough of you, even if he tried—and he’ll never try.
“a-ace,” you whimper, teeth sinking into your bottom lip hard, eyelids closing once his tongue antagonizes your clit in the only way he knows how.
“i’m here, don’t worry,” he says casually, as if he isn’t ruining your life right now. it’s always one big mess with you too; he slurps and sucks, treating your pussy like the best-tasting summer fruit in the world; it’s maddening, the way he’s addicted. and when you cum, you can hardly contain your moans, the orgasm strong enough to make you forget yourself and the time. ace doesn’t bother stopping you, he’s way too far gone, if anything he makes it worse. and even though you’re sure the entire ship heard the way you screamed his name, you wouldn’t change a thing.
that’s what he does to you whenever you’re together; he makes you feel impossible bouts of extreme confidence without even trying.
#one piece hcs#one piece imagine#one piece smut#one piece x y/n#one piece x reader#portgas d. ace#trafalgar law#roronoa zoro#law x y/n#zoro x y/n#ace x y/n#fic request#longer than necessary but that's my m.o. these days#trafalgar law smut#portgas d. ace smut#roronoa zoro smut#law smut#ace smut#zoro smut
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2 and 4? :)
i feel like i've talked some of my ocs to death so i will talk about. neil and razma.
2. Is your OC a loner or a social butterfly? Are they satisfied with how they come across to other people?
they're both on the loner side, or at least the "extremely small social circle" side rather than being very social, though they are very composed people in social situations.
razma tends to come off as chilly and intimidating because they don't speak much and have an elegant voice (even though. they're actually a huge dork, you just need to achieve at least 6 hearts with them before they infodump at you). unless they are flirting. which they don't do anymore, they're very much taken.
neil is very much able to be on and friendly and charming with people, mostly by being a surprisingly good listener who makes people feel like what they're saying is worthwhile, so people have a good impression of him, but he needs soooo much recharging time after an event. literally his m.o. for year was to spend a few months hanging around humanoids then retreating to a cave for a decade or two, so i think you have to call that loner behavior.
4. Does your OC have a failed friendship or relationship they still think about? What happened? Is it an unresolved regret or is there a chance for reconciliation?
razma has a lot of burnt bridges from their very early adulthood and sometimes they do think about the way they were treated and have to stew about it for a few days and be reassured that it was completely out of pocket on other people's parts, so there's loads of regret involved, but they aren't interested in reconciling with old friends, family members or ex boyfriends. they would probably just freeze up and run away if they ever ran into anyone they knew then and they recognized each other
neil.... kind of has to think about his ex wife vanna a lot, they have a daughter together (he has extremely limited custody in a way that made sense at the time, and is now no longer strictly necessary but his daughter doesn't really. like him. or want to spend the amount of time with him that she does.) but also... i have been kicking around the idea of neil and his ex (accidently but not unwantedly) having another kid together way in the future, both because he still has some feelings for vanna and also. he is extremely the kind of guy who is a way better father to his second kid and his first kid is mad about it. they wouldn't even try to raise their second kid together, and just arrange a more sensible setup from scratch
#oc: razma hightide-raleigh#oc: neil vineheart#port emmerledge#fun fact: dragons don't really do marriage per se... thats just what cohabitation while raising a kid is translated to in common#so divorce is basically if you split up during that and it has pretty much exclusively negative connotations#(but if it's on the table the it usually is the better choice. you just will get a big side-eye from everyone who finds out)
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‘This Love Came Back to Me’ Chapter 2: This is London
Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?
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Being in London again, amongst the bustling streets and busy lives, had Molly in a state of wistfulness. She had been homesick since the day she left and her stomach knotted with deep-seated guilt and regret. It mystified her how this city seemed to scream his name. When she thought of London, she didn’t think of the usual things—the Thames, Buckingham Palace, Trafalger Square, or even Big Ben with its comforting chimes—but she always thought of Sherlock Holmes. He was forever connected to this place much more intimately than anything or anyone else she could think of. And connected to him was the sense of home. She had felt her heart leap in joy when she stepped off the plane.
And now, looking up at the street sign, Molly let out a shaky breath. She had once promised herself she would never grace this very pavement if she ever lost him. And yet she found herself on Baker Street once more. In her hands were the results of their findings, and she sincerely hoped he would be cordial with her, though she knew she didn’t deserve such a kindness. 221B stared down at her as if daring her to cross the threshold, to recall her memories here, to once again face the man who lived in it, and at one time with her.
Molly took each step with trepidation. She wished to not upset him any further, but it couldn’t be helped. Never did she think her actions would have hurt him, for she hadn’t thought he truly felt for her what she felt for him. Her presence was difficult for him and Molly hadn’t a clue how to steer clear. Being put on a case together had made matters complicated. One deep breath and she knocked lightly against the worn wood. She made out a couple of voices including his own. He must have been with a client. Turning on her foot to leave, the door was yanked open, causing her to turn back towards it, towards him.
“Oh,” he frowned, disappointment clear on his face. “It’s just you.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. His callousness tore at her rapidly beating heart. “I brought some of the results for you to look over. You’ll find that there is a particular feature of interest that may turn out to be a lead.”
Sherlock studied her with curious eyes that narrowed when he met hers. He removed the report from her hands and looked it over. “Very good, then. It looks like Mike is no longer in need of your services.”
Molly opened her mouth to protest, stepping forward to follow him inside, but he had quite firmly slammed the door in her face before she could utter a syllable.
When Sherlock turned his back to the slamming door, he was met with Mary Watson’s chiding expression, an eyebrow raised high. “Was it really necessary to do that?”
“She’s the one who decided to leave,” he replied like a five year old.
“Yes, well, that may be true, Sherlock, but I thought you wanted an explanation from her, hmm?” Mary crossed her arms, tapping her foot with impatience. “I don’t agree with how she handled things, but I hardly think it necessary to act like children.” She briefly recalled hearing about their argument in the morgue the day before.
“I’ll stop when she does.” Sherlock was in no mood. He hadn’t seen her in years until yesterday. Molly Hooper broke his heart, betrayed his trust. He told her he loved her, and she ran away. “I once thought she loved me—but, I see now that I was wrong.”
“She did love you, Sherlock,” Mary argued.
“Could’ve fooled me,” he huffed. It wasn’t as if she had said the words back.
“I think you and Molly can work things out—you’re both stubborn, and that causes a lot of damage with situations like yours. One of you needs to be the bigger person,” Mary advised. “I know you’re hurting, but this week could change things. Try to make the best of it.”
Sherlock sighed. “I won’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”
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It was official: Molly Hooper hated herself for what she did to Sherlock. If she could, she knew she would go back when things were okay and do things right. Instead of listening to her doubts and allowing herself to be persuaded into leaving, Molly would have said the words back. She would have told him what she had feared. They would have talked through it and they would still be together now. She was sure of it. He could no longer stand the sight of her. The man who held high disregard of emotions—and for good reason—gave her his heart, and she ruined him.
The next five days in London would be torture, but she had it coming to her. This was the universe biting her back in the arse for what she had done. Molly, upon returning to her hotel room, decided to take a soak in a bubble bath to calm her nerves. Hair up in a messy bun, she sank down into the warm sudsy water, leaning her head back with her eyes closed, unable to keep herself from remembering how it used to be.
“I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered in his ear. Sherlock had drifted off, but he still held her tightly in his arms. It was as if he was afraid to let go. Molly could still feel the ghost of his love all over her body, through her, inside her. In truth, she had never been so happy. But then, why did she feel so scared?
If he were to ever wake up one day and realise this wasn’t what he wanted, Molly promised herself she’d never walk Baker Street again. Hell, she probably wouldn’t be able to stomach staying in London if he ever walked away. Or if, God forbid, she ever did. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him, his expression one of complete serenity. It made him look ten years younger. Molly pressed her lips to his neck, leaving a trail of soft, warm kisses for him. She heard him moan quietly in his sleep, and it made her smile. God, she loved him so much, her heart ached. What was it about those eight letters that were so overwhelming, so daunting? Maybe one day she’d be brave enough to say them.
The visions in her head never stopped. There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t think about him, about their love, magical as it was. For the first time since she arrived back in London, Molly allowed herself to cry; to grieve for them, for the man she had hurt. All she wanted to do was take away his pain, but he’d never allow her close enough to do that. Never again.
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After a brief conversation with Mike the next day outside the morgue, Sherlock, she noticed, was fast approaching her. Molly braced herself for his scathing remarks, her whole body tensing up as if his words caused her physical pain. Instead, he shoved the manila envelope toward her, insisting she take them back. “Were my findings not to your liking then?” she asked, somewhat feeling put-out.
“On the contrary, Doctor Hooper,” he replied, taking a moment to swallow his pride, “what you discovered is most fascinating.”
Taken aback at the change of attitude, Molly questioned him with her eyes, her mouth slightly agape. “Yes, well, it seemed odd that our murderer went through all of the trouble of making a bloody mess of his victims when his real M.O. was a nearly undetectable poisoning.”
Sherlock nodded. “He’s trying to keep us from profiling him correctly. He’s clever, but not as clever as you.” He felt his face flush, mentally cursing his traitorous body.
Her eyes met his in a brief remembrance of the love they once shared. My clever Molly, he had taken to saying whenever her intellect shone through like a bright star. The man who had once admired her was still there somewhere deep down. She hoped so, anyways. As soon as the spark was there, it was gone, the air somehow colder than it had been. “If that’s all you came here for…I believe you have a murderer to catch.”
“Wait,” he began, taking a small step forward. “It has come to my attention that I’ve been, for lack of a better word, an arse. We should be able to at least be cordial whilst working this case together.” Sherlock had a hard time meeting her eyes. “I’m…I apologise. You really are the best for the job.”
Never had Molly felt more uncomfortable and undeserving of an apology. She gazed at him with soft, sorrowful eyes. “Thank you,” she uttered in a small voice. If he hadn’t looked so uncomfortable, himself, she wasn’t sure if she could’ve found the strength to reply. She wanted to apologise for leaving him, beg him for his forgiveness, but fear—a different kind; one of rejection—stopped her. The awkward silence was deafening and she was thankful when Greg interrupted them.
“There’s been another body, Sherlock. Here’s your chance to go to the scene and—Molly? That you?” Greg grinned happily, going in for a hug.
“It’s been an age,” Molly told him, her guilt eating her up inside. At least he didn’t appear to be angry with her.
Sherlock stood by with his hands behind his back, jealousy rearing its ugly head, his stomach knotting tightly. He watched as Greg gave her a quick peck on the cheek and it took all his strength not to lash out. There was no way he could deny his feelings any longer—he still cared for Molly, still loved her despite everything, but it was clear she had moved on. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he only caught the tail end of Lestrade’s question.
“—with us?”
“Oh, I—well, I don’t think I should,” Molly answered, glancing at Sherlock. “It’s probably best I stay behind.”
Greg knew things were strained between them—he had even been on the receiving end of her lack of communication. He nodded in understanding, not wanting to push her into it. “Suit yourself. How long are you here for?”
“Just until the end of the week, then back to Galway,” she informed him. The words tasted bitter on her tongue.
Galway, Sherlock thought. So that’s where she ran off to. It was where her grandmother was from—her father’s mother. It should have been blaringly obvious, but he had kept himself from thinking too much about it.
“Well, do us all a favor, and phone us once in a while…yeah?” He clapped Sherlock on his back, including him in that statement.
She nodded. “Of course.” Her eyes met Sherlock’s briefly. Never did she want to let him down again. “You have my word.”
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Lessons \\ Self Para [ft. Little Fang]
Three thousand years of living came with many things. Hard taught lessons being one of them. And after all of those lessons over her many, many lifetimes, Nemea had come to almost perfect her craft of hunting down and slaying creatures who sought out humans to do harm. Unfortunately, no matter how long she lived, she would never truly be perfect. There would always be underlying factors she could not see, situations she could not expect. It was frustrating, but she had come to accept those facts.
Still, this would be a mistake that would haunt her for years to come.
Cubi weren’t normally the type to stick together. For the most part they were solitary beings. But recently she’d heard talk of a group of three that had banded together and were causing their fair share of chaos in the northern areas of Canada. If her intel was correct, a succubi was drawing people in from bars and other areas of entertainment. She would eventually lead them to somewhere secluded where her incubi counterparts waited. The group would then take turns torturing their victim before draining them.
It wasn’t the cubi’s normal M.O., but it wasn’t the first time Ptolema had come across cubi that took things farther and darker than necessary.
“How much longer?”
The voice to her right was soft, barely a whisper but filled with unveiled excitement. Ptolema’s lip twitched upward. “Patience, Micah,” she replied, reaching out a hand to squeeze his shoulder. “Time is your friend when you let it be.”
He nodded once, eyes flickering away from her and back to the bar the succubi entered an hour ago. The two of them had tracked the woman and her accomplices down a few days prior, but this was the first time she’d gone out since they’d arrived in town.
Ptolema’s watch read that it was passed midnight and she glanced at Micah from the driver’s seat, studying him. Despite the lateness, he was wide awake and just as alert as she was. Pride warmed her chest. He was only fifteen now but he’d come so far in the few years she’d taken him in. There had been such promise and determination in his eyes when they’d first met, and it had only grown since. She admired him for that.
Sensing the succubi’s presence moving closer to the bar’s exit, the lion sat up straighter. “Remember, you must remain inconspicuous. Showing yourself too soon could ruin the mission, or worse, cause you to lose your life.” The woman walked out of the bar, an arm of a stranger slung over her shoulders. “When we find the others, I’ll take two, you take one. If you find yourself outmatched, do not hesitate to say something.” She faced him, “I mean it, Micah. This isn’t a game.”
His hand was already on the handle, his body buzzing with adrenaline. “I understand, Nemea.”
“Good. Just follow my lead.”
They both exit the car quietly and keep a safe distance from their intended prey as she leads her own victim further down the street. It doesn’t take long for her to pull him into an alleyway, her giggles echoing back towards the two shifters as she and the drunken bar goer disappear around the corner.
Ptolema glances along the streets before crossing, Micah right on her heels as they near the alley. Drunken laughter accompanies the giggling momentarily before turning into a gasp of shock and a dull thud.
Turning the corner, the two of them come across the sight of the human slumped on the ground against the bricks of the building. Blood oozes from his temple as three cubi stand above him. Just as Ptolema had been told; one succubi and two incubi. But there was something clearly off. They weren’t shocked to find Nemea standing there. Instead, they each grinned at her, as if an old friend had finally shown up to the party.
Too late, Ptolema realized.
“Micah-” Her voice didn’t reach him in time as the young boy was suddenly torn back out of the alley and thrown into the street. The sound his body made as it connected with the pavement was sickening. The swerving of car tires only made it worse.
Two more cubi stood at the alley’s entrance, teeth flashing in grins as bright as their accomplices. It had been a trap. They’d been tipped off to her hunt and had decided to try their luck against the Nemean Lion. A mistake they wouldn’t live to regret. Had it been just that, she could’ve given each of them a quick death. Bringing Micah into it had sealed a far worse fate. For his sake, they would suffer first.
The glock strapped to her back was revealed and she shot two bullets into the knees of the first succubi. As she crumbled, Ptolema’s attention shifted to the three deeper in the alley, her body turning to fire another two shots into the chest of the first one to lunge at her. Four bullets down, eleven left.
Striding towards the two still at the alley’s entrance, she waited until one moved towards her, ready to drain her of her magic before she charged them. Her speed took them by surprise. Her hand caught the throat of the incubi that was closest, using him as a shield as the other reached out to grab at her. The barrel of her gun pressed into the abdomen of her manmade shield and she pulled the trigger four more times, listening to the sound of metal ripping through flesh and embedding itself into the stomach of the second cubi behind it.
As they both crumpled, her eyes fell on Micah. He had pulled himself out of the street, seeming relatively unharmed despite the growing purple bruise on the side of his face. His gaze met hers, a sheepish smile on his lips as he forced himself onto wobbly feet. He was shaken, but not out of the fight. Ptolema sighed in relief.
A force caught her from behind and she stumbled to her knees, feeling a hand wrap itself around her neck and drag her back. The hand in question was jerked away as a flash of blue jeans passed Ptolema’s gaze. Turning, she watched Micah wrestle the cubi to the ground, his fist connecting harshly with his opponent’s face.
“It’s time to end this, Micah!” She shouted, back on her feet. Rolling her shoulders, the euphoric sense of her own magic washing over her as the Nemean Lion rose to the surface. Roaring, her right paw caught the chests of the cubi back at the entrance, forcing them to the ground as they struggled to stand. She paid the fear in their eyes no mind as her jaw wrapped around the first one’s face, teeth sinking deeply into flesh and bone, snuffing out his life. The crying and begging of the next one was silenced only a moment later.
Leaving their bodies to disintegrate, she turned to see Micah’s own fangs sinking into flesh as his own snake’s long body wrapped around the succubi who’d lured the man from the bar, crushing her. He was quick to attach to the next even as the incubi fought to pull him off, screaming as he did. The young shifter was a force all his own as his fangs once again met flesh.
Ptolema finished off the last of the original three only a moment later. Shifting back into her human form, she wiped the blood from her mouth and moved to check on the man still slumped against the wall. Pressing two fingers to his throat, she was pleased to find him breathing. “Well, he’ll have one hell of a headache come morning, but he’ll live.” And one hell of a dream to tell his therapist about.
When silence was her only reply, she looked back at Micah. The sight made her blood run cold. The succubi who’s knees she shot was leaning heavily on Micah, broken bottle to his throat and lips pressed against his cheek. “Come any closer and I’ll drain him then leave him to bleed out,” she threatened, wincing as one of the bullets forced its way out of her knee while her body healed. The sharp edge of the bottle dug deeper into the skin of Micah’s neck.
Standing slowly, Ptolema lifted her hands to show she had no weapons. "Alright, you win. Let him go and I won’t give chase.”
“I-I don’t believe you.” The succubi took a step back, dragging Micah with her. “I’m taking the kid with me. Follow us and I’ll-,” she stuttered, stumbling back over a trash can. “I’ll kill him!”
“You’re either going to let him go now or you’re not going to like how this ends.”
The woman’s eyes were wide, darting around at what remained of her fallen comrades. There was no escape, the realization was slowly dawning on her. Tears welled in her eyes. She was going to die here. “I didn’t ask for this!” She screamed, yanking the blade back harshly across Micah’s throat and shoving him aside as she bolting towards the alley’s exit.
That was all it took.
Leaping forward, Ptolema shifted midair. The impact of her body against the cubi’s was more then enough to knock her off her feet. Her skull cracked against concrete, her cries of fear ricocheting off the brick walls around them. One bite cut them off.
Hands around his neck, Micah looked up at her with terror in his eyes. One bloodied hand reached up for Ptolema’s. She took it, kneeling at his side. Her other hand softly brushed his hair from his forehead. “You’re alright, Little Fang,” she said softly. “Shift, child. You’ve survived before, you will survive this.”
The sound of her voice seemed to do the trick and Micah closed his eyes, letting his anaconda form take over. He stayed in the form for a moment, allowing the advanced healing process do what it needed to. The slash to his throat was by no means a injury to scoff at, but he would face far worse in the coming years.
The thought alone was enough to sadden her. She loved Micah like a son. There was no one who would stand in her way when it came to protecting him. But he would be forced to grow up too fast and it was her who would lead him down that path.
When he finally returned to his normal self, Ptolema had redressed and had his clothes waiting for him. As he put himself back together, she heard his sigh. “I’m sorry. I let her sneak up on me.”
She turned, eyebrow up. “Will you let it happen again?”
His frame steeled, eyes hardening. “Never.”
“Then we’ll jus consider it a lesson learned.” The lion stretched her arms above her head, noting that it was now almost three in the morning. “You hungry?”
Trotting up to her side, Micah beamed. “Starving.”
“I think we’ve earned ourselves a couple of late night burgers, what do you say?”
Without warning, Micah was off and running towards the car. “I say, last one to the car has to eat the hottest pepper on the menu!”
She laughed, racing after him. This time, she’d let him win. He didn’t have to completely grow up just yet.
#tw violence#tw gun#tw blood#tw murder#tw gore#tw ptolema being ptolema#pastpara;#selfpara;#little fang;
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My Series 10 Rewatch: The Pilot
Hello friends! If you caught my last update, you'll know I took the last couple weeks off to study for my Life in the UK test. My test was on Saturday and I am happy to report that I passed! I think it took me longer to go through security than to take the actual test. After two weeks of studying, I am very much ready to get back into the groove of talking about Doctor Who. We now continue with my series ten rewatch!
The title "The Pilot," is an interesting choice for the first official episode of series ten. While it references the plot of the episode, there is also an implication that this story is a bit of a reset to a new beginning. It acts as a pilot to the Doctor and Bill show. Not only had Clara been the companion for basically three seasons at this point, there was also a year of hiatus between "The Husbands of River Song," and "The Return of Doctor Mysterio." It is a weird placement for a final season for a showrunner and lead actor. It's also a weird place to drop a brand new companion.
This new version of Doctor Who opens with the Doctor as a university professor teaching possibly the worst class on campus, that everyone seems to love. His star pupil is a girl named Bill, who isn't actually a student but loves his lectures. Speaking of star pupils, there is also a love interest for Bill in the form of a girl named Heather, but more on that later. The Doctor's office at the university is peppered with references to the past. On his desk sits a jar with the sonic screwdrivers of previous Doctors, like an assortment of pens. There are also portraits of River and Susan. And tucked away in the corner of the room sits the TARDIS, with an "out of order," sign hanging from its doors.
The first time I watched this episode I started to groan at the fact that the TARDIS was out of commission. Not because it should never happen, but more that I expected this to be incredibly tedious. After several years of Steven Moffat's plot arks leading to disappointment, I was bracing to be underwhelmed. As it turns out, the TARDIS works as good as it ever did. But the Doctor and Nardole are grounded regardless. This is due to the fact that there is some sort of door or safe they've been tasked with guarding, which brings us back to the whole bracing for mediocrity thing. I remember immediately thinking "Missy is in there." Spoiler alert- she absolutely is.
Dumb safes and meaningless promises meant to build up empty intrigue aside, the real reason to get excited for series ten is Bill. I was immediately interested in the concept of a black gay companion with a gender fucky name. I remember when the pictures circulated of her wearing a vintage Prince jumper and everyone was speculating whether she was from the '80s or '90s. This only added to my excitement for her character. As many of you know, I am a big fan of the idea of companions in modern Doctor Who that aren't from modern-day earth. Sadly, as it turns out, she's not a hip '80s lesbian, she's once again from modern-day England. Oh well, at least Nardole is from the future. Though I don't understand why he is suddenly a cyborg that makes whirring noises and drops lug nuts. There was none of that in Doctor Mysterio.
The Doctor calls Bill into his office where he confronts her about attending his classes. He wants to take her on as her personal tutor, despite her not being a student. He mentions that he noticed she smiles when she's confused, which is a good indication that she is openminded and naturally curious. It's even implied that he sees a little bit of Susan in her. I liked that little nod to Susan, though it begs the question why the new series has never had her return. While looking at the pictures, Bill indicates that she has no pictures of her mother before she died.
The Doctor uses this as an opportunity to do a kindness for his new friend Bill. Using his ability to time travel, the Doctor goes back in time to take a shoebox worth of photos of Bill's mother. Nevermind that doing this might change the trajectory of her mother's life, thus undoing any chance that she might meet Bill's father. It's a sweet moment for Bill, but it's undercut by Moffat's shitty writing. Bill notices the Doctor's reflection in one of the photos, but never brings it up. She doesn't even thank him. It doesn't really go anywhere other than to inform the audience that the TARDIS does, in fact, still work.
It's this kind of gay people need tragic backstories for no reason mentality that frames a lot of this episode. While I applaud Moffat's inclusion of a gay companion, it comes off as a middle-aged man's depiction of a young gay woman. There is diversity on the screen, but none in the writing room. This is made all the more apparent by Bill's horrible chips anecdote. Bill has a crush on a student who comes into the cafeteria where she works. So she gives her extra chips every day until it starts making the girl fat. The Doctor asks her why she is telling him this story and she replies with "I was hoping it would go somewhere." As did Steven Moffat, but it didn't. It just hangs there like a fart saying "Did I mention I was gay?"
The next few scenes take place over a montage. We see Bill and the Doctor in their respective student and tutor roles. And we also see Bill having a bit of a social life. Bill catches the starry-eyed glances of Heather at a club and they both stand there on the dance floor staring at each other. There's an implication that the two of them are into each other, but we never actually see anything to show why they would actually like one another other than raw animal attraction. In fact, their few interactions are actually rather awkward and cold. There's about as much chemistry between the two of them as there was between Clara and Danny. Which if you remember was zero.
There isn't really a whole lot of focus on anything other than characters for this episode. Moffat usually writes in one of two ways- heavy on character and light on plot, or so heavy on plot that it sits weird against his characters. This would be the former, as the plot is nearly non-existent. Bill begins to notice Heather around and tries to chat her up. Heather shows Bill a puddle that doesn't make sense considering it hadn't rained in days. I kind of love Bill's reasoning that the puddle is piss from the men on campus. That was genuinely funny. Well done, Moffat. But there is more to this puddle in that it also shows your reflection wrong. Heather notices this because the reflection of the star in her eye isn't where it should be.
Let's talk about Heather for a moment. She's a very odd character. Firstly, there is her eye, which has a defect that gives her iris a star shape. Bill asks the Doctor what kind of defect would do this, but neither the Doctor or the show has an answer. Much like Moffat's running gag from "The Curse of the Fatal Death," said- I'll explain later. But later never comes. Other than her eye, Heather's other two biggest traits are that she's most likely a lesbian and that she wants to leave. Her personality isn't really all that important other than to act as the thrust for the plot, which is sadly from another episode of Doctor Who altogether.
Doctor Who is a very old show. It’s bound to repeat itself. Chris Chibnall ripped off "The Silurians," wholesale with "The Hungry Earth/Cold Blood." I get that this was necessary as a means to re-establish the Silurians and why they've remained underground. But on other occasions, Doctor Who seems to repeat itself out of sheer laziness. Remember when the library in "Forest of the Dead," saves everyone at their time of death? Or when Missy plucks people out of their timeline at their time of death? Or when the Testimony records people in history at their time of death? Or when the Thijarians comfort people at their time of death? Because I do. So it's not surprising that when Moffat wants to steal from another episode, he steals from one from his own stint as showrunner.
The episode I'm talking about is "The Lodger," written by transphobic Brexiteer shitlord- Gareth Roberts. In it, a spaceship disguised as a top story flat lures people to their demise while searching for a pilot to take it into space. The ship's main criteria for a pilot is that the candidate be someone with wanderlust. Does any of this sound familiar? That's the exact same M.O. of the mysterious puddle. It latches onto Heather because it senses her desire to travel and extrapolates that into consent to take over her body and use her to pilot it around the universe. However, another part of Heather's psyche has kept it earthbound- a desire to be with Bill. If you remember correctly, this is very similar to how "The Lodger," ended. Craig and Sophie's desire to stay together is what kept them from being reduced to ash by a machine too stupid to realise it was killing its host.
Now, I understand that it sounds like I'm ripping on Moffat quite a bit, but I actually do like him as a writer. "Heaven Sent," is one of the best episodes in the entire history of Doctor Who. This one, however, is not great. After the puddle overtakes Heather's body, it begins to follow Bill everywhere. At first, Bill thinks the puddle is Heather, but her creepy Midnight-esque repetition of everything Bill says is enough to raise suspicion. Bill begins to run to the safety of the Doctor, where she finds him and Nardole fussing with the giant safe. The room in which the safe is located only lets friends inside, which is either telling or worrying as the puddle is able to simply wash into the room under the door. As I watched the water flow down the stairs I found myself feeling forgiving toward the effects department from "The Horror of Fang Rock." Green blobs beat slow-mo water any day.
For no reason other than it needed to be more spooky, the puddle screams like a wraith every time we see it. I loved the little addition of Heather's wet mascara adding to her ghostly appearance. The Doctor, Nardole, and Bill take a trip around space and time to see if they can shake the puddle. But no matter where they go, the puddle is never far behind. For a creature made of water, it certainly is thirsty. And trust me, that's far better a pun than the one I was considering. The WAP references were just too low of a fruit.
For reasons I can't exactly pinpoint, the Doctor decides to take the chase right in the middle of a battle between the Daleks and the Movellans. While I love the return of the Movellans in all of their Rick James majesty, it's a very weird scene. As far as I can devise, the Doctor is merely trying to see if the puddle can withstand the blast of a Dalek. It almost feels like Moffat needed to wake the audience up with a jolt of Dalek action. Up to this point, there has been very little tension. What I can't figure out is what Nardole is doing with the Fourth Doctor's sonic screwdriver the whole time. From what I can tell, he's shutting doors, closing off the corridors and locking Daleks out. Maybe? I really don't understand.
The Puddle takes the form of a Dalek just long enough to make us worry that maybe Nardole didn't get them all. Watching the Dalek disintegrate into a puddle of water was genuinely cool. I was reminded of things like the clear Dalek from "Revelation of the Daleks," or the visible innards of the teleporting Dalek in "Remembrance of the Daleks." I like it when the show does weird visual stuff with the Daleks. It's part of why I love Davros so much. The puddle reforms as Heather, holding out her hand for Bill to take, which the Doctor warns her not to take.
Part of the tragedy of the Doctor's character is how oblivious he is to human emotion. It's part of why he needs human companions in the first place. He couldn't possibly conceive of a situation where Heather's own yearning for Bill might be the cause for all of their problems. But Bill sees this. She sees the human desire underneath all of the scary and so she too reaches out, grasping hands with Heather. What I don't understand is why Heather needed to leave and see the universe without Bill. Why they needed to say goodbye at all is more of that "gays can't have nice things," bullshit I mentioned earlier. Let's walk through the logic a bit.
Toward the beginning of the episode, the Doctor explains that the acronym for TARDIS- Time and relative dimension in space, means life. If you think about this, it's him saying that life is basically you in a point of time and a point of space, relative to you. Thus it explains the very essence of being alive and experiencing the universe from your unique perspective. But toward the end of the episode, he changes this position to mean that TARDIS means "What the hell?" As in, just go ahead and live life how you choose. This comes after the Doctor trying to wipe Bill's mind and deciding he can't. This leads to the Doctor allowing himself to travel, despite the promise he made about the safe nobody cares about. Basically, Heather doesn't get to join in on the Doctor and Bill's travels because Moffat still had to do a thing.
A lot of this episode is neutered by this need to adhere to the season ark. Which I now realise is a major contributing factor as to why I so often forget Nardole is a companion. Nardole is forced to become the Doctor's babysitter, forcing him to hide his travels with Bill. Because of this, we see Nardole as more of an authority figure than a companion. He's the strict schoolmaster the Doctor and Bill are forced to sneak past on their way to adventure. What this does, sadly, is cut Nardole out of a lot of the adventures. The same thing happened to Danny Pink, whose opposition to the Doctor often times left him out of the fun. Also like Danny Pink, it's an arrangement that worked best with Rory Williams and has been imitated to hell and back since.
While I can't consider this episode a total success, I also can't write it off outright. It would be easy to damn it in a "Simpsons did it," fashion for taking its plot from a previous episode. It would be easy to write it off for being plot light queer bait where nothing really happens. I could rail on the inclusion of the Daleks for the sake of Daleks. But I have to ask myself- what is the function of this episode? The answer to this question brings me back to its title. This episode is a pilot for a new iteration of the series. We're in a new place with some new faces, and some familiar ones. The pieces on the board have changed location and strategy. If the function of this episode was to hit reset, I would say it succeeds.
Bill is a very likeable character. You immediately want to see more of her. Her introduction is both charming and endearing. The roundabout way she took to arrive at saying "it's bigger on the inside," seemed less thick than quirky, which is right on the money. You want to see more of her. You want to hear more of her questions. You want to experience the universe through the filter of her perception. We needed a companion who was different from the previous one. It was important that the audience is able to move forward with the new cast. We're not comparing Bill to Clara as many did with Martha and Rose. We're not being asked to forget the past any more than we are being asked to cling to it. This is exactly the right tone and in that way, I find it to be wholly successful.
#doctor who#the pilot#series 10#steven moffat#peter capaldi#Twelfth Doctor#Bill Potts#Pearl Mackie#Matt Lucas#nardole#TARDIS#daleks#movellans
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1/4 I keep seeing people comment about how byler won't be canon because the regular audience would see it as coming out of left field. While I understand the thought of not wanting to be disappointed, there is a way I can see for the writers to make it not as sudden. It all comes down to the theory that Will created the Upside Down due to internalized homophobia. What if the reason El's never been able to fully close the gate is because Will's still channeling his suppressed feelings there?
(2-5) He’s undoubtedly linked to the continued attacks through his association with the Mind Flayer. I’m of the full belief that Will has powers and is the creator of the Upside Down. El just intuitively found it when Brenner pressed her to approach the monster. She didn’t create the realm or monsters, she just opened the gate (which seems like a metaphor for Will’s jealousy of her, when I think about it). Or maybe it was combined effort. Either way, if Will’s repression caused any part of the Upside Down to be built, there would be no way to finish the story or destroy the Upside Down and its monsters without addressing Will’s sexual orientation and, by extension, his relationship with Mike. That would be how the writers could ease the regular audience into the reveal. I’m not saying I’m right, and I completely understand not wanting to face the disappointment so many other stories caused, but I also don’t think we should give up hope. At the very least, the writers don’t seem to consider Mileven an endgame couple, and there was an early cast interview (the Build series) including Finn where he said something along the lines of “the relationship arcs get better”. He could have been referring to Mileven, but the way he’d described his and the Duffer Brothers’ view of Mike’s feelings for El just seconds before makes me doubt that. Sorry for the length, I just don’t want people to give up hope. There is a way for everything to be resolved with a byler endgame – or at least addressing byler through Will’s feelings – and make sense to regular audiences.
ALRIGHT let’s get into this!
I too have seen a rise in comments about Byler not being canon because the regular audience has their Mike/El glasses on and basically just preparing for inevitable disappointment when a ship as coded as Byler is ends up not being canon. I absolutely support people believing strongly in Byler being endgame and people who ship but also understand that it’s not gonna happen. Before I begin, I’d like to offer a middle ground that Byler is already canon. Nothing can change the fact that Will does have a crush on Mike and Mike did at some point love him back (though I believe he still does). You don’t have to be reading between the lines or writing up theories when ST3 point blank gives us jealous!Will and ST1 and ST2 gave us Mike’s visceral reactions to Will’s “death” and then Mike being so dedicated to Will throughout his Mind Flayer possession for days on end and the entire shed confession scene. The big question then becomes if Byler will be endgame. That means bringing not just Will’s feelings to the forefront more, but also Mike’s own, which have been in the background and so far requires deeper analysis to pick apart compared to the easy pickings of Mike’s feelings for El, which is what the casual viewer (and Netflix) focuses on.
So, how do you make Will’s sexuality a new centerpiece for the story? You have a good idea already of how to do so and I agree completely. It has to do with the Upside Down being some representation of internalized homophobia. I like the idea of El never fully closing the gate because Will’s suppressed feelings are still haunting him. Given ST3 focuses on reopening the gate and one of the most dramatic moments in the season with Will and his connection to the Mind Flayer is after he tried to basically destroy his feelings for Mike with the Castle Byers scene, this can be a reasonable conclusion. Will having powers is, like, my M.O. so bring that up and I’m so game! Now, Will being the one who created the Upside Down interests me. I’ve personally always been of the mind that El created the Upside Down (a place of trauma) but Will created the Demogorgon, the Demodogs, and the Mind Flayer, where the monsters represent his sexuality issues rather than the Upside Down itself. El being the one to open the gate when pressed to do so being a metaphor for Will’s jealousy can make sense. She defeats the Demogorgon, but an even worse monster lurks in the shadows and possesses Will for a good year until he can’t escape it’s power and it consumes him. Noting here that in the shed scene when Mike tells the story of how they first met, Will comes alive from under the MF’s influence for just a moment longer. I think it’s combined effort in the end.
But yes, the Upside Down can’t truly be defeated until his sexual orientation is addressed if the Upside Down is supposed to be a physical representation of his internalized homophobia, and that in turn is tied to Mike and brings their relationship to the forefront as necessary to get casual viewers on board. The fact also that Mike can pull Will out of the Upside Down repeatedly in ST2 shows only gives more proof I guess to the point that the Upside Down can be very well tied to the internalized homophobia they both have (more on Mike’s here). No matter what, Will’s sexuality is a topic of discussion to casual viewers now, so the Duffers (and Netflix) must address it since the whole garage argument and destroy-Castle-Byers scene never got fully resolved. People are talking about it now, everyone is suspecting Will is gay not just hardcore viewers, and so that gives ST the opening for addressing how the Upside Down relates to Will, Will’s powers with the Upside Down, and of course, his feelings for Mike and Mike’s feelings for him in turn.
I said this in a different ask already kinda but yeah, Mike/El wasn’t meant to be endgame and that’s totally fine, and marketing is pushing it to be endgame, which is what makes it all the more disappointing about if Byler won’t be because, well, it’s marketing. Gotta roll with the punches on this one. But, I think it’s equally important that people don’t berate themselves or others for wanting Byler to be endgame, and hoping that maybe Netflix will let the Duffers pull through. Will’s sexual orientation has to be addressed and that is inevitably going to put his and Mike’s relationship in the spotlight. It’s only then we get to what happens about Byler on Mike’s end, which I state previously has been subconscious action that requires analysis to understand, and hopefully when brought under the microscope, it won’t be shot to shit for the sake of keeping the marketed couple alive. Time will tell.
And no worries about the length, I like discussing these things with you all and I’m glad you want to discuss it with me, too! Here’s to endgame Byler and if not, then hey, fandom had fanfic for a reason lol
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Unknown Illness
Summary: Andrea is Eddie’s friend, and his assistant. There isn’t much she can hide from him, or is there?
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: Sickness!Comfort/hurt!comfort: Angst(ish), Fluff(ish) Anxiety, depression, Mentions of sickness (unknown illnesses, throwing up, pain etc).
A/N: This is for my best online friend @writingwithadinosaur. She has been having a ton of shit thrown at her lately and need lots of love. But since I am on the other side of the country from her, I am sending Eddie & Venom instead.
Venom’s parts are bold
Thoughts are italic
For the fifth time that day, Andrea took a deep breath and shook her head. She had seemed distant and distracted the last few days, but heavy sighs weren’t her usual M.O.
Actually, now that he stopped to think about it, Eddie realized she’d been acting even stranger. His personal assistant had looked exhausted and disheveled for days. She’d been jumpy. She hadn’t eaten anything that he’d seen, which should have been impossible. They were together for very long hours everyday, he should have seen her eating multiple times a day, but he hadn’t.
“Her heart is beating faster than normal,” Venom supplied. He usually kept quiet when Eddie was at work, unless he was hungry, but V seemed to pay attention to Drea regardless. “I like her.”
“That makes two of us, V,” Eddie mumbled, leaning back in his desk chair, looking through his office door to see Andrea. She was slumped slightly in her chair, and seemed to be holding her head. “What’s wrong with her?”
“How should I know?”
“You know her heart’s racing.”
“I can hear it.”
Eddie sighed. He stood from his desk and walked towards Andrea’s.
“Hey, Drea,” he called when she didn’t look up immediately.
Andrea’s head shot up as if she’d been shaken. Her eyes darted around for a moment before she seemed to recognize Eddie. “Shit! Sorry Eddie. What do you need?”
“What- Are- are you okay?” Eddie stuttered. He wanted to ask what the hell she was sorry for, but he stuck to his original question.
“Huh?” She seemed taken aback for a moment, before smiling. “Of course I am. Just a little tired. Sorry about that.”
“A little tired?” Eddie repeated.
Drea knew that voice. That was Eddie’s “journalist voice”. The, “I know you aren’t telling me something, and I’m gonna figure it out one way or another,” voice.
“Shit” Drea thought. How much could she tell him without sounding like a whiny child? “I’ve been a little under the weather is all. I’m sure it’ll clear up soon. Anyway, you have a pre-interview scheduled in an hour, it’s across town so you’d better head out soon. Do you need me to come with you?”
Maybe she could distract him. He wouldn’t want her to come, because he had brought his motorcycle today, and he didn’t seem to like the idea of her riding with him. She could buy some time, find some way to explain the behavior she thought she had been hiding.
Eddie narrowed his eyes, assessing her. Andrea was his P.A., but also his friend. The fact that he got to work with her everyday was a godsend; no one else would have accepted his… quirks, as readily as she did. He wasn’t gonna let her off the hook that easily. He couldn’t risk losing her.
“Nah, I can handle it. I’ll be back before you head home,” he said. Making sure to catch her eye.
Making sure he saw her again before the weekend. Damn him.
“Okay. Be safe on your death trap,” Andrea smiled. Normally, there would have been a good natured argument following that comment, but Eddie was too focused on Andrea and what she could be hiding.
“Because you like her,” Venom supplied helpfully.
“Yes, we’ve covered that already.” Eddie climbed on his bike and revved the engine. “How long has she been acting off?”
“Mmm, this time, it has been 2 weeks.”
“This time?” Eddie asked.
“She is sometimes okay, and sometimes not. I only noticed after she started working with you, but it has probably been longer.”
“Shit.” Eddie came up to a red light and pulled up short. “What else have I not noticed?”
“A lot.” Eddie was about to pop off, when Venom continued. “She doesn’t sleep well, and is yawning frequently. She is paler than normal, and sometimes when she comes back from a break, she smells of sickness.”
“And this has been happening for 2 weeks?!”
“Yes, and several times before.”
“Fuck it,” Eddie grumbled. He took the next two rights and headed back to the office at a higher speed than strictly necessary. Fucking pre-interview could wait…
The office he worked in was small by most standards, but downtown space was expensive as hell. It only had one bathroom, and when Eddie returned, he could hear muffled sobs coming from behind that bathroom door.
“She has been sick, and she has an abnormally high body temperature. Why is she crying?”
Because she is hurt.
“Drea?” Eddie called from just outside the bathroom door.
“Shit! What the fuck is he doing back so soon?!” Andrea was crumpled on the floor, thanking the gods for the excellent cleaning service Eddie had let her hire, as she held her stomach.
Cramps and nausea had her incapacitated almost as soon as Eddie had left. Her head was swimming from pain and anxiety. Why the fuck was he back?
“And I didn’t lock the door,” she noticed as it cracked open.
Eddie was crouched in front of her seconds later.
“Shit! Drea are you okay?”
When she went to answer, a particularly powerful cramp swept through her, and all that came out was a whimper.
“I can’t just move her, you ass! She might have fallen and broken something!” Who was Eddie yelling at? Andrea couldn’t open her eyes to see.
“Honey, are y- can I move you?” Andrea managed to nod, and Eddie had her in his arms, then nestled on his office couch in seconds.
He sat on the floor in front of his couch, feeling helpless, as he saw Andrea’s face scrunch in pain. He reached up and brushed her hair back from her face.
“What can I do? Tell me how to help,” Eddie said quietly.
When she could draw a proper breath, Andrea answered, “I really wish I could tell you.”
“What’d’ya mean?”
A deep breath in. When it didn’t cause pain, Andrea said, “I don’t know what would help, because nothing I’ve tried so far has worked.”
“Well, what does your doctor think?”
A watery and bitter laugh. “Which one? Actually, it doesn’t matter since none of them can tell me what the fuck is happening.” Drea managed to sound angry until the last few words, when she fell into sobs.
“She is scared,” Venom said; he sounded pissed.
It took the better part of the night, but Eddie eventually dragged the whole story from Andrea.
It had been years. YEARS. And she still didn’t know what was wrong with her. Nothing helped for very long. She was afraid to even go to the doctor anymore.
“The worst is when they don’t believe me,” Drea said quietly, looking anywhere but at Eddie.
“They don’t- Why wouldn’t they believe you?” Eddie seemed genuinely confused.
“Because I’m young. And a woman. I must be exaggerating to get attention or meds or something. It’s happened a lot actually.”
Eddie was stunned, but Drea kept talking. “I expect it of people at this point, so it’s- I mean it’s not okay but I deal. The bad part is that what they say gives fodder to the voices in my head.”
“Voices?” Eddie jumped. “Does she have a- a thing like you? Is that why she’s so sick?”
“No Eddie. She is not hosting any of my kind.”
“Yeah,” Andrea continued, unaware of the internal conversation Eddie was having. “Ya know, that voice that tells me I’m better off not eating cause I’m fat. Better off dying cause I’m a worthless piece of shit. Then I start listening to them and that just makes everything worse.” Drea gave him a wet smile, clearly trying to make light of what she’d just said.
“She is not fat. She is not worthless. I like her. Who has told her these things?!” Venom all but roared in Eddie’s head.
“I believe you,” Eddie said. Andrea’s eyes met his, her brow furrowed. “I believe you. You are not fat, and I want you to eat. You are not worthless, fuck, I wouldn’t be able to function without you. You’re smart as hell. You’re funny. I do not want you to die!”
More tears were pouring from her eyes as Eddie talked.
“Now, you’re taking some time off to rest, and we’re gonna get a different view on this. Okay?” Drea nodded, a little shocked. “How much time do you need?”
“Well I can try and be back for the holiday, cause I know we get really busy and-”
“No. I asked how much time you need.” Eddie was so close Drea could feel his breath, and he was staring straight into her eyes. Her face crumpled against her will. Really, she had cried enough, but it was like she just couldn’t stop.
“I wish I knew,” she answered. It was almost a whisper it was so quiet. Combined with the tears pouring down her cheeks, Eddie felt his chest seize up.
He didn’t think, just stood, scooped Drea into his arms, and sat back on the couch with her in his lap.
“Shhhh, it’s okay, honey. We’ll figure it out,” he repeated the same thing over and over. “I like to think I’m pretty good at figuring shit out. The two of us together? Please. We can do it, no sweat.” Eddie ran his fingers through her hair and rocked her back and forth slightly as he continued to assure her, in soothing tones, that he was going to help her. And he would.
“Of course we will,” Venom agreed.
As Drea calmed, Eddie began planning. First of all, he would call Dan. If Dan couldn’t help, he could at least give him someone else to call.
Then another idea popped into his head. He’d have to run it by his publisher though, but first, he would take care of Drea.
“And we will make her ours,” Venom was all but nodding along.
“Dude,” Eddie thought at Venom, “unless you can help Andrea right now, it’d be nice if you’d shut the hell up. She doesn’t know about you.”
Drea had looked up while Eddie was telling Venom off. She caught an odd look in his eye. One she’d seen before, and had some suspicions about, but never questioned aloud.
Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you looked at it, Drea’s brain was not firing on all cylinders at the moment, so the next thing that came out of her mouth was “Are you talking to your friend?”
Eddie froze. Venom didn’t.
A small, black, oozing head appeared over Eddie’s shoulder.
“Yes, he was talking to me. He thinks I should shut up,” Venom said aloud.
“Well that’s rude,” Drea yawned, still not totally aware. “Eddie, why are you telling your friend to shut up? Also, why haven’t you introduced us yet?” Drea rested her head on Eddie’s free shoulder.
Amazing how puking her guts out and having a massively embarrassing emotional breakdown could make seeing a slimy, pitch-black, alien head pop out of her boss/friend’s body not seem very odd. Andrea should have been losing her shit, but she just didn’t have the energy.
“Uh…” Eddie blinked rapidly, his eyes darting back and forth from Drea to the little Venom head over his shoulder. “This is Venom. He’s uh… well the most accurate term is Parasite, but he doesn’t like that.”
“PARASITE?!” Venom asked indignantly, “APOLOGIZE!”
Drea’s giggle took Venom and Eddie’s attention before their argument got too heated.
“You two are like an old married couple,” her giggle mixed with a yawn, making an odd and undignified sound. She closed her eyes, resting against Eddie. “It’s nice to meet you Venom. As long as you promise not to eat me,” she yawned again, “we can be friends.” She nuzzled into Eddie’s shoulder and nodded off.
“I would not eat her,” Venom stated resolutely.
Eddie chuckled. Well, that about summed it up. His weird alien parasite was friends with his best friend.
“APOLOGIZE!”
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VALENTINE’S DATE → LUBY
TAGGING → Baby Charming (@aybaby) & Lui Kapu
TIMELINE → Saturday, February 16th, 2019
SETTING → Valentine’s Ball
SUMMARY → So anyway here’s what we wrote before we got bored and/or distracted...
Lui was pretty stoked about this whole Valentine's Day thing, and he hoped that Baby was, too. After he'd gotten dumped for being a cheating douchebag in high school, he'd taken ages and ages to get back into the dating game, but after getting dumped last summer when he'd been nothing but an awesome boyfriend? He had a totally different attitude towards it, and he was glad that he'd found someone as cool as Baby at the exact right time in his life. He wasn't sure if she saw tonight as like a real date, but Lui did, and he hoped that by the end of the evening he was on the same page. "How do I look?" Lui asked her with a wink, showing off his hairy, barely-covered legs underneath the ridiculous black french maid dress, as promised. "Do you think Melody Triton's going to buy that these cleaning supplies are actually cleaning supplies or not?"
Baby didn't really know what her situation with Lui really was outside of like flirting, making plans to do things in France together and their hook up on New Year's, but she really liked him a lot and was super eager to impress him in the hopes that maybe he'd think of her in a way that was a little something more...romantic than the posse of girl best friends he was also probably hooking up with. "Super hot. If you were my maid, I'd tip you so good." Baby giggled, looking Lui up and down appreciatively. "What about me?" She asked, posing in her little pink Hugh Hefner inspired smoking jacket that only just slightly covered up a lacy black bralette and tight pencil skirt, her sexy interpretation of the kind of person that would hire someone in a sexy French maid uniform. "I think so! But I don't know, she might be suspicious because...she just is. So if I see her coming your way, I'll just run up to her and think of some story to send her somewhere else. You think Ren'll be pissed if I keep sending her her way or should I pick one of their cousins?"
Lui was having a hard time remembering to look at Baby's face instead of just her body. The outfit that she had on was pretty incredible, both because of how it made her look and because of how fun it was. Lui's last girlfriend had been nice, but she'd taken herself kind of seriously sometimes. Hanging out with Baby made him laugh; she was full of surprises, her costume tonight included. "You look so hot that it makes me look like Wallace Shawn or something in comparison," he told her with a grin, looping an arm around her waist to keep his date close to him. Sure, he had friends that he should go and say hi to at some point, but he knew that he didn't want to lose track of Baby at the dance. "And because I'm me. Playing pranks at dances and stuff kind of used to be my M.O." He snorted at the idea of setting Melody on Ren, but decided he'd let his housemate have a night of fun. "Nah, what about the slutty yoga cousin? I bet we could come up with all sorts of great lies about trouble she's causing."
Baby felt her face warm up at the compliment but scrunched her nose up in thought for a moment. "Wallace Shawn? Really? No one even slightly more bangable like Danny Devito?" She snickered, hoping that he understood that she was 100% joking about finding Danny Devito being bangable. "Oh, then that too I guess! Why'd you give up on pulling pranks at dances? Was it the neutering thing you said Gwen made fun of you for?" Baby asked, lowkey wondering if her encouragement of the maid uniform and boozy fake cleaning supplies meant she had the opposite impact on him as his last girlfriend and she'd be someone's his friends would approve of. "Oh my gosh! She'd be a great one! We could say we overheard her talking about releasing her goats into the dance or planning an orgy since there's so many pretty people around!"
Lui clutched a hand to his heart, like he was wounded by Baby's words. "No way, Wallace is way more bangable than Danny! Those tufts he's got growing on the side of his head are a no go for me," Lui teased, sure Baby realized that he'd most definitely never bang either one of the men in question, either. Or any man, probably, although Lui didn't like to rule things out; he'd try just about anything once. "Huh, I dunno," Lui admitted, trying not to get too pensive about it. He liked that things were so light and fun with Baby; he felt like she kind of got the stuff underneath, even without him having to say it. "I guess I just kind of grew up a little? I still like to have a good time, but like... passing the torch to the younger tricksters and stuff, you know? Give them their chance to shine." He snickered at Baby's agreement, reaching out his hand to lead her onto the dance floor, where everyone was sure to stare at how awesome they looked. "Although you know... it would be pretty cool if there were actual goats here, we could always try a prank for old time's sakes and blame Aubrey or Audrey or whatever her name is for it..."
Baby rolled her eyes and pulled Lui's hand away from his chest, oh so sneakily not letting it go for a minute longer than necessary. "You do know what Wallace Shawn looks like, right? He's got the exact same tufts on the side of his head as Danny! Besides, they're super old and a girl needs something to hold onto and a wrinkly scalp just ain't it." She wrinkled her nose at the visual but laughed again anyway. Baby listened to Lui talk as led the way. She couldn't exactly relate since she'd never pulled a prank bigger than a shock pen in her whole life, but she could still understand what he meant. "I think people are really taking advantage of the chance you're giving them then. Last year's prom got stink bombed pretty bad and then I think I heard this year's homecoming queen had a Janet Jackson moment? I'm sure your pranks are way cooler though." Baby reached up and looped her arms around Lui's neck once they made it to the dance floor and sort of frowned at his idea, more out doubt in herself than at Lui. "That would be so so so much fun but I dunno? I've never really pulled a prank before and wouldn't our outfits just attract attention? Well, even more attention anyway."
Lui scoffed, trying not to reveal just how much he wanted to laugh at Baby's accusation. He narrowly bit back his smile, saying, "How dare you doubt me! I'm going to wear a Wallace Shaun mask on our next date just to prove I know what I'm talking about. I know everything ." Like he knew that Baby hadn't let go of his hand, and he knew that a year and a half ago, he never would have dreamed of mentioning dates in seriousness, much less alluding to future ones. And he knew that he had said that on purpose, just to gauge if she was into the idea or not. He knew that this night had barely begun, but it was already the best time Lui had had in a while, and he hoped Baby was amenable to the very not subtle hint that he wanted to do it again. "And yeah, I'd like to think I'm more epic than that. I've had bubbles coming out of flushing toilets, lots of punch that's actually spiked with good shit and not like, Krat, an invasion of toy cars that have condom baskets attached for everyone... You know, harmless but hilarious. It's always ind of been my thing." Lui shrugged as best he could while still keeping his arms around Baby; he didn't even know where to find goats right now, but even if he didn, he wasn't in a hurry to leave, even if he did get to leave with her. "Oh well, guess we'll just have to goat-ify the next dance instead, then. Think of something more lowkey for tonight."
Baby bit her lip to hold back the world's biggest grin when Lui threatened her with a weird mask on their next date. Baby absolutely could not believe her luck! They weren't even that far into this date and he already wanted to spend more time with her. "Alright, then I'll wear a Danny Devito mask on our next date and I'll prove that you know everything, but that." Even though Baby had known all about Lui's reputation and some of his pranks well before they'd ever started hanging out, hearing him recount some of his greatest hits was super super attractive and a little bit intimidating. Especially when he put the ball in her court and suggested that she think of a lowkey prank for the night. The closest Baby had ever come to pulling a prank, was switching around all of the little outfits on her family's little mouse friends once when she was twelve. And even that hadn't been much of a prank since before Cinderella had even gotten a chance to see it, Baby had been filled with guilt and cried while switching all the tiny shirts and hats right back. "Oh gosh..I don't know. Maybe we should do something with the fake cleaning supplies we brought?"
Lui snorted at the idea of Baby dressed as Danny Devito, and almost said something about how he'd never imagined Danny and Wallace hooking up before but now it was all he could think about. He didn't, though; Baby was cool, and he didn't want her to think he was only interested in sex or whatever. That was the old Lui; now, he was trying to find some balance between like, the Old Old Lui from freshman year, who had been a kind of decent guy, and the newer Luis who liked to have fun and stuff but still wanted people to know when they were actually special. Most of all, he wanted to be special back, and Lui hoped that if tonight went well maybe he'd be special back to Baby. Or maybe he already was and he just couldn't be sure yet... "Okay, that would be hilarious. We could go up and spray it in people's faces and then start pretending that we have to call the hospital because we don't know how fast they're gonna get poisoned, or we could stage a really dramatic fight between us where we spray each other with it and put on a show and pretend to hate each other, or hmm..." Lui arched his eyebrows, wiggling them thoughtfully. "Or we could go find actual cleaning supplies, peel the labels off, and start sticking them on random people who are just minding their own business dancing."
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Posted by Madeline Blasberg
Ever take the time to really think about the gateway into your business’ website? Yes—we’re talking about your homepage. Your website homepage design should be enticing enough to draw “window shoppers” further into your website and to eventually convert them into customers.
If you’ve felt pressured to hire a professional to handle your homepage design (or redesign), you’re not alone—but it’s also (probably) not necessary.
Simply by spending some time to square away your strategy and brush up on current homepage design trends, you can mimic professional web designers (without incurring the expense).
So, drumroll, please… From design aesthetics to user experience, here are ten homepage design trends to help you boost your homepage engagement to draw visitors further into the depths of your website.
Top 10 homepage design trends to help you stand out from the crowd:
1 – Show. Don’t just tell.
Humans have the attention span of a goldfish. According to data by Tony Haile of Chartbeat, a website only has 15 seconds to capture your attention … Because of this, your website has to work quickly to captivate & communicate, and this can be done through captivating visuals. Utilize imagery and photography to convey a message and greater brand story. Let your visual cue’s answer “what’s in it for me” and “what is this business all about” on your homepage design.
A #website only has 15 seconds to capture your attention. That’s why it’s important to utilize imagery and photography to convey a message and greater brand story.
Fullscreen and minimal hero sections can help set the tone of your homepage and bring focus on your business’ main M.O. “The application of hero images can spruce up the design of a web page while also building depth into page content,” says design blog Envato. “Most of these images are photographs which directly relate to the content. But designers have gotten crafty with vector backgrounds, illustrated artwork, and even animated video.”
And when previously designers shied away from below-the-fold designs, this is no longer the case. Now, there is no need to cram everything above the fold as most visitors inherently know to scroll down.
2 – Less is more
Similar to general website design trends in 2019, layouts and sections should remain uncluttered. Minimalism helps focus the message and reinforces a sense of professionalism.
“The fewer elements and content on a website, the less your audience will have to think. If a website is designed in the right way, it will show the user exactly what she is looking for.”–��says 99designs
Here’s how to put this tip to practice: incorporate negative space to give elements breathing room and help visitors more easily digest information. If you’re worried about being too boring, consider implementing a minimalist layout spruced with vibrant pops of color—this 2019 web design trend is gaining mass appeal. These drops of color sprinkled in a simple yet effective website design can breathe life into your brand. Just take it from Dropbox, Spotify, Nylon, and Nike.
Keeping your design minimal also aids in your page load speed, which affects conversions, sales revenue, organic search rankings, and PPC ad quality score.
So, what can minify load time, you wonder? Here are some tips:
Use CSS to create animations and path-based design elements when possible
Utilize flat design: open space, bold colors, and simple illustrations—as these are much less data-heavy and load more quickly
“The fewer elements and content on a #website, the less your audience will have to think. If a website is designed in the right way, it will show the user exactly what to looking for.” @99designs
3 – Responsive design matters for your homepage, too
While 30% of all website traffic comes from a handheld device like a mobile phone or tablet, 90% of small business websites don’t design for these devices’ screen size.
Refresher! Here‘s what makes aresponsive design:
It adapts to any screen size
It loads quickly
Flexible images and layout
So, if you thought responsive design doesn’t matter, you thought wrong. Design consideration of user devices is more important than ever. In fact, failing to have a “responsive” site or one optimized for these devices can drive away customers, hinder your search engine rankings and look unprofessional.
To tell if your small business website is responsive, or needs a little work, use Google’s mobile-friendly test tool. All you have to do is enter your URL and Google will rate your website’s mobile-friendliness using handy color-coded guides. (For instance, you will get a green light if your website passes, a yellow light if there is potential for improvement, and a red light if you need a lot of help. It ranks everything from mobile page speed to screen capacity.)
And, remember: if your homepage looks great on a desktop computer, it may not communicate effectively on a smaller mobile device; nor will it load quickly. To design responsively, make sure your visual assets can scale on any device.
4 – Keep it consistent
Utilize design systems to keep typography uniform and your website buttons consistent. This helps visitors understand what to expect from your site as they venture through your website.
As a business owner, your goal is to create massive brand appeal in just a matter of seconds. As the “gateway” of your brand, your homepage should portray a clear brand image. And that image should be consistent with all marketing channels and webpages on your site.
To maintain a consistent brand on your homepage, consider these things:
Your message: Keeping marketing messages consistent in all marketing channels.
Your visual assets: Maintaining consistent imagery (particularly the hero visual) and the color palette is key.
Your tone: Never falter when it comes to swapping the voice, tone, or content of your campaign.
5 – Grayscale it!
Homepage color cultivates a mood and personality. So, are you wondering what 2019 website color trends are out there?
Black, white, and gray can help facilitate that mood. You can tone down your homepage design by converting your color palette into these simple, yet powerful colors.
Why does this design principle work? A few reasons:
It emphasizes textures and shapes while drawing focus on your messaging.
It’s classy (and a little artsy!) if that’s your jam.
It offers an easy way to maintain brand standards as the color palette is simple.
6 – Animation and micro-interactions
“Movement is the visual path a viewer follows when viewing a composition. With proper movement, a composition can create a narrative and provide high-quality user experience,” says Hubspot. Previously movement was achieved through stagnant lines, shapes, and colors, today animation, and micro-interactions are more trendy than ever.
What is a micro-interaction? They surprise the user and create an event that is inviting and human. They can come in the form of GIFSs, chimes, scrolling animations, and pop-ups.
There are three reasons why animation and micro-interactions rock:
They create moments of delight for the user while reinforcing subtle messaging.
They can serve as visual metaphors to reinforce overarching brand messaging.
They can signal a user to take the next steps—like venture further into your website.
They heighten a sense of interactivity, which helps engage a web visitor. They involve your audience in your website, to subtly transmit information to the users about their actions and usage, and make web pages feel a little smarter.
Ex. https://useless.london/
7 – Diversity
Gone are the days where only middle-aged Caucasian people were imaged on homepages. Today’s person is diverse—in color, race, religion, and beliefs. And brands are finally modifying their marketing to reflect the world’s true population—in a rainbow of differences.
So, it’s vital to include a diverse range of race and gender in photography and illustrations, otherwise, you run the risk of alienating a potential user base. If you’re looking for a good resource on this, look no further than here.
8 – Unique layouts
Walk into any department store and you’ll see products brimming with symmetrical, staggered graphical elements are in. Deconstructed, broken grids are super popular when it comes to not only sweatshirt design, but also homepage design themes. Need to view this idea in real life? Here are some design examples from the Webflow blog.
To think outside the conventional homepage grid layout, do the following:
Vary box sizes
Find a unique way to display your navigation pattern
Switch up hero image placement
Change up type treatments
Modify other cues help organize and prioritize content on the homepage
Try a magazine layout
9- Retro elements
There has been a recent surge of retro-inspired brand elements. Serif fonts, chunky fonts, and 60s inspired fonts are so in. These fonts are emphasized by bright, pop-arty color palettes, playing upon nostalgia and breaking pre-established web design traditions.
Why do this website design And everyone likes a surprise. Using retroelements breaks up the visual stagnation of traditional fonts and adds character and personality, while also reinforcing the credibility of a brand by playing into nostalgia that surrounds design.
10 – Functionality & User Experience
We are decades beyond the internet’s infancy. When once websites were a set it and forget it endeavor for business owners, today’s website is now known to be fluid. The best homepages out there evolve based on your visitors’ needs.
A homepage layout should not only anticipate user needs, but it should also well-paced. It should answer “Where will my visitors land next?” and “What do my visitors want to know about?”
Focus on the user by helping visitors quickly identify with what you’re offering and determine if their needs can be fulfilled. In addition, it should provide examples and inspiration to help visitors imagine themselves using your product or service. In addition, make sure to provide easy-to-view, sticky navigation, so visitors can easily get to where they need to go on your website.
Pro tip: Take visitors on a journey & build a relationship by offering relevant info in exchange for their email (don’t expect them to book/buy on the first visit).
Bonus tip: Calls to action
Don’t forget that at the end of the day, you own a business, and businesses need…well – business.
Odds are, your business goals align very closely if not directly with your website goals and should, therefore, be represented accordingly on your website. We’d argue they’re the most important part of your website.
Whether you’re selling something, collecting emails, or getting someone to sign up for your newsletter, calls to action (also known as buttons) is a borderline necessity.
Don’t hide what you’re offering on a secondary or tertiary page, put it right at the top in big bold letters with a button to “buy now” or “get early access” close by.
Bonus tip #2: Favicons
Pronounced /fav-ih-con/.
We have one! Notice the little purple icon on this browser tab?
Favicons have been around for a while and aren’t TECHNICALLY part of your homepage design, but like your homepage, they are often part of your first impression. Also, in a world where internet explorers often have 10k tabs open in their browser, it might be the only piece of your brand visible at the moment. Make it count.
Wrapping up
That’s it! From retro fonts to minimalist layouts, we’ve shared the top homepage design trends of 2019. Get in the trenches—test out which 2019 design trends work best for your business. We trust that you’ll implement these tips with ease and precision!
Go to our website: www.ncmalliance.com
10 Homepage Design Trends to Make a Splash in 2019 Posted by Madeline Blasberg Ever take the time to really think about the gateway into your business’ website?
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Chapter 3: Insanity Prime
Emery made it to the bottom of the first set of steps outside the administration building before she realized she was still wearing her dreamform armor and her Peacemakers. The armor was the only thing she was able to dreamform reliably, and that was because she’d spent years learning to make it. She thought of something relaxing—this time, the idea of Edgar snuggled four blankets deep in his dorm room, watching Gunsmoke—and her armor melted into its own purple cloud and sunk into the clothing beneath it, a sweat-stained shirt and training pants. She removed her guns from their holsters before the holsters disappeared. The Peacemakers themselves shrank to fit the silver charm bracelet around her left wrist, just below her cuff.
The Peacemakers had taken years to make, too, but all she’d had to do was let them take shape. Dreamforms were made from the fabric of the Dream, crafted by dreamhunters using the same connection that gave them their strength and agility. The Peacemakers could shrink or grow, become heavy or light. They, like some other carefully and painstakingly constructed dreamforms, were permanent. They would never return to the Dream until Emery died.
Her brother, Edgar, wasn’t far enough into his training to make his weapon. He lived in Booling Hall with the other kids in his class, mostly children of dreamhunters. Because the exposure to the Dream necessary to create dreamhunters had to start so young, the best source of new recruits was dreamhunter children. Each Ward had a different method for producing more children, to ensure they never ran out. It was one of the few points of dreamhunting Emery tried not to think about: in a few short years, the Hypnos State would match her with another dreamhunter and expect her to put hunting on hold to manufacture a baby or two. Those kids would be exposed to the Dream and dropped into Booling, too.
The good news was the North American Ward tried to match power with power, the way they’d done with her parents, which meant that at the very least she’d never be paired with Wes.
Emery made her way up to Booling’s fourth floor. Here, most of the rooms were silent, the little ones tucked in for the night and the denmothers patrolling the floors to make sure no one tried to sneak out. She passed Edgar’s denmother, a jolly older man who’d worked for the academy longer than Emery had been alive, and knocked on the door to room 413.
“Who is it?” came a small voice.
“The Boogeyman,” Emery replied.
The door swung open. A thin boy a foot shorter than Emery shot out of the room and barrelled into her stomach, latching onto her. Emery grunted and held the doorframe to keep herself upright.
“I’m all sweaty.”
“Don’t care.”
She barely heard him. Edgar was already quiet when his voice wasn’t muffled by her shirt. Past him, the room blazed with light, and commercials flickered on the small TV between the two loft beds. Another boy peered around the door from his perch on the right bed.
“Aw, man, you shouldn’t have come back until morning!” said the boy. “I was trying to see if worrying about you would keep him awake.”
“Shut up, Morris,” Emery said. “You’re a horrible roommate.”
Morris stuck out his tongue and turned back to the television.
“Gunsmoke?”
“We were watching Bonanza before this.”
Edgar let go of her and stepped back. They shared their mother’s most prominent features: curly black hair, straight noses, steely blue-gray eyes. Emery had also inherited many of the rest. Thin lips, thick eyebrows, shoulders and hips for days, the ability to tan. Edgar was a much more perfect blending of their parents—their father’s lankiness, thick lashes, and pale skin that went up in flames in the summer—he just hadn’t grown into most of it yet.
“Grandpa Al says you’ve been watching my mission logs.”
Edgar flushed. “No—not a lot—”
“Enough to know pretty soon after I left tonight, and to tell him about it.”
“I only told him because you went alone. You’re not supposed to go alone.”
“Well, I was fine.” Emery held up her arms. “See?”
“Why did you go alone?”
“I knew I could handle it.”
Edgar frowned. “It’s because you don’t like Wes.”
“Maybe. So?”
“Wes is really nice. I don’t know why you don’t like being his partner.”
“Being nice doesn’t make him good in a panic situation.” Before Edgar could give her his baleful, guilt-inducing stare, Emery continued. “But Grandpa Al said I have to do missions with him for a month, and if it doesn’t work out, I can switch partners.”
The frown softened. He took another step back into the room, pulling the sleeves of his too-long sweater over his bony hands.
“Did you start your all-nighters?” Emery motioned to the many lights on in the room.
Edgar nodded. “We have to stay awake at least until 4 am.”
“All night hype!” Morris barked.
Edgar did seem gaunt, but more than normal. He’d always been pallid and sunken-eyed, like he was staring at her from far away in his head. Now there was a brightness to his gaze that brought the shadows of his face into sharp relief.
“Okay, well,” Emery said, “don’t let Morris out of the room. He’ll tear up the campus. And we’re watching Tombstone tomorrow night, don’t forget.”
“Tombstone again?” Morris whined.
“You don’t have to join in, Morris!”
Edgar smiled.
“Call me if you have trouble staying awake.” Emery ruffled Edgar’s hair and pushed him back into the room.
As he shut the door, Morris began making shotgun noises.
~
Edgar’s face remained at the top of Emery’s mind on her walk back to her own dorm. She thought of Cora Miller, and nightmares eating childrens’ minds, and Edgar’s expression going blank and braindead.
Unlike Emery, Edgar had been born after their parents passed through their Insanity Primes, the period in their mid-twenties when most dreamhunters succumbed to mental instability. By Hypnos State law, married dreamhunters had to at least try to have children before their Primes to ensure another generation of hunters. If a hunter lived through their Insanity Prime, the altered state of their body usually no longer allowed for pregnancy. Conception of a post-Prime child was so rare, Emery’s parents had moved from Moscow to the Sleeping City so Edgar could be researched and kept healthy. Hypnos State scientists had held Edgar isolated and under surveillance in the Fenhallow labs for years while he grew up, and they still didn’t know how he’d turn out.
It wasn’t his fault he was weird.
Emery was angry again by the time she made it to the front steps of Kirkland Hall, her dorm. On a campus full of small gothic castles, Kirkland was a queen; its white towers speared the night sky, almost taller than the administration building, and its massive black doors were etched with the blooming poppy. Inside, dreamhunter students sprawled across the lobby with textbooks and tablets and basked in the smell of late-night pizza. Draped across the front of the currently unoccupied denmother’s desk was a banner that read FENHALLOWEEN!!! SIGN UP BEFORE THE 20th. COSTUMES MANDATORY!!!!! surrounded by a few lopsided decoration pumpkins and a hissing black cat cut out of construction paper.
The news ran across the lobby flatscreen. Emery knew what was on it before she saw the story of the night. Terribly lit cell phone footage shot from the end of Mercer Street showed a massive purple cloud in the sky over the Miller house, and the shadow of the whale, and then the bright violet lights popping off one after another from a rooftop. The bottom of the screen said Massive nightmare appears in southcentral Harrington.
“Queen Emery again,” said one of the three students watching from the lobby couch.
“What did you expect?” said another. “Her M.O. is upstaging people. And she went without Jager.”
“Seriously?” said the third.
“He’s been here the whole time. I saw him in the library two hours ago.”
“I mean, I’d leave him behind, too,” said the first.
“Yeah, but look at that thing.” The second gestured to the screen, where the whale was diving toward the rooftop. “How do you see that on a term request and think, ‘Oh yeah, I can totally handle that monstrosity by myself’?”
Emery dug her fingers into her thighs to keep from clenching them into fists. She strode past the back of the couch and said very loudly, “It wasn’t on the request.”
The three of them jumped. She kept walking, letting her hair swish behind her, hoping she looked properly aloof and mussed from battle.
Around the corner behind the denmother’s desk was the staircase to the second floor, and beneath that, a wall of mailboxes that winked copper and gold in the dim lighting of the old yellow fixtures. Emery jarred to a halt; Wes stood alone at his mailbox, staring at the address on a piece of junk mail.
“How long have you been waiting for me?” she snapped.
He looked around. A furrow had dug itself between his eyebrows. He said nothing.
“Look, my grandpa wants me to apologize for what I said earlier, so I’m sorry. Or whatever.”
The furrow deepened.
“Thanks,” he said. Wes’s voice was so bassy he would blow out speakers if anyone let him near a microphone. “I could have helped you earlier.”
“I handled it fine on my own,” Emery said.
“I need the mission credit.”
“Sure, sure, so you can piggyback on my success.”
“I didn’t say that—”
“We’re going to have some real issues if you are. I don’t give handouts.”
“I didn’t ask for any—”
“I’m not here to teach you how to do your job.”
“I know how to do my job—”
“And if you—”
Wes snapped. “Stop interrupting me!” His back went ramrod straight, a muscle jumped in his jaw, and his black eyes flashed. “I know you think you’re great at everything and I get in your way. Trust me, I’m not happy about it either.”
Emery smoothed back her hair, rocking onto her heels. “Then why not ask for a different partner?”
“Because when you get paired with the best student in class, you don’t ask for anything else.” Wes’s cheeks flushed. He slammed his mailbox shut and twisted the key out. “It would be way easier to admit you’re the best if you didn’t annoy the hell out of me, but you are, and I’d rather face the Insanity Prime with someone who knows what they’re doing than with someone like—like me.”
“Hm.”
“I don’t expect you to understand,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll get through your Prime without a problem, no matter who your partner is.”
Goosebumps prickled Emery’s arms. She opened her mouth to argue, realized how pinned she was by Wes’s unrelenting stare, shut her mouth again, and pushed away from the mailboxes to start up the stairs.
“Well, whatever,” she said. “We’re still partners for a month. Don’t embarass me in class.”
Emery hurried to her room on the second floor, only pausing once the door was safely closed and locked behind her. She pressed her forehead to the wood and breathed in the quiet darkness.
The Insanity Prime manifested differently in different dreamhunters. It almost always happened in someone’s mid-twenties, and it almost always ended in the complete erosion of the mind by that special connection to the Dream. Some hunters developed violent moodswings, some experienced a disconnect from reality, some completely forgot who and what they were. Some lucky souls dealt with all three. Medication and therapy helped at first, but the erosion was unstoppable, and it always—always—culminated in a vicious dreamform of the hunter’s subconscious itself, physically identical to them in every way, called a doppelgänger.
If a hunter destroyed their doppelgänger, their Insanity Prime was halted, their mind healed, and they were rewarded the rest of their lives as dreamkillers.
If they didn’t—and many did not—they were laid to rest by the Hypnos State.
The Ashworths were dreamkillers. Emery could not think of any of her relatives who had not survived their Insanity Primes. Grandpa Al was famous for his lack of symptoms, and by all accounts both of her parents had brushed their Primes aside like minor annoyances.
She was expected to do the same. It wasn’t even a question among her professors, who looked at the other dreamhunter students with a sad kind of hopefulness, but gave Emery only passing glances. It had never seemed to concern her parents or Grandpa Al, who had only ever worried about her future involvement in the State, and not whether she’d live to see thirty. And she wanted to march back downstairs and punch Wes and tell him that yes, of course she did understand, she knew exactly how frightening it was to think constantly about where and when you’d start to lose your mind.
She didn’t feel unstable now, but she was only eighteen. What if it snuck up on her one day when she wasn’t expecting it? What if, despite her training, she wasn’t strong enough to defeat it? Would her professors ignore her when she called for help? She was an Ashworth, after all. She was bred to handle anything.
Maybe she wouldn’t even be an Ashworth. Part of her couldn’t imagine either of her parents disowning her, but another part thought of her father’s laid-back cheer turning to indifference, and her mother’s thunderous enthusiasm folding into anger. It wasn’t completely out of character for them. She’d seen it happen before, though not to her.
At least they were across the ocean right now, and couldn’t see her like this. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, scoffed in disgust, and began peeling off her sweaty clothes. Her classmates called her Queen for a reason.
She had a reputation to keep.
(Next time on The Children of Hypnos --> Em & Wes Get Their First Mission. It’s Totally Gonna Go Fine.)
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[SF] Turned inside out
“Yep, it’s definitely human remains.”; The Medical Examiner stated. His voice betrayed no sign of emotion.
“Are you sure Doc? What could have done THAT much damage to a human body? An eighteen wheeler or a freight train?" Industrial equipment? The nauseous deputy continued to speculate wildly. "Maybe this is from a large animal attack. I've seen grizzlies really maul their prey, but nothing to this level of carnage.”
Even fifteen years in the Sheriff’s Department hadn’t prepared him for the gruesome sight before them. "Honestly, it looks like this person has been through a wood chip..."
Ralph quickly cut him off before the deputy had a speculative meltdown. “I can’t determine ANY cause of death until we get ‘him’ to the morgue for examination.”
“So it’s definately a ‘him’, then?”
“Right now I can’t even be sure of that; but at least the corpse is fresh.”
“I’ll say.”; Agreed Phil. The deputy held his nose in disgust. His asinine criteria for ‘fresh’ was quite different.
The next afternoon, Ralph began the medical examination. Normally he was unaffected by the morbid nature of his profession. Being detached helped him to concentrate on the necessary task at hand. All his patients deserved for their final secrets to be told. If they died of natural causes then they could be buried or cremated with dignity. If their lives were cut short from fowl play, then they deserved justice so they could eventually be at rest.
When the medical examiner realized the surreal circumstances that ended the life of his mangled patient, he dropped his ham sandwich and dialed the Sheriff’s department with a rattled immediacy. “This is Ralph down at the Morgue, you’d better get the Sheriff over here as soon as possible!”
II
Meanwhile, the Sheriff’s office conducted an official investigation at the crime scene. The forensic crew swept the area and discovered some very disturbing facts. The first of which was a spiked level of radiation near the lake. The second was a trail of large, reptilian-like animal prints leading down to the water line. Lastly came an even more curious item of questionable value.
A perfectly-formed, oblong crystal was found among cattail reeds at the edge of the lowland swamp. Whether it had anything to do with their investigation was anyone’s guess but it obviously hadn’t grown on top of the weeds. In keeping with protocol, the team tagged and photographed it as potential evidence.
Sheriff John Wright was too level headed to believe a mutated alligator was on the loose but the collected 'evidence' did point to such a bizarre conclusion! The only thing on his mind however, was what to eat for lunch. When the sheriff heard the dispatcher calling him on the radio, he knew he was in for another missed meal. He responded to the Coroner’s request with all the usual police jargon and was on his way.
Sheriff Wright knew the importance of Forensic Science to his police department investigations. He just preferred to learn autopsy results from the comfort of his brown leather office chair. He knew that Ralph Gentry recognized his intense dislike of blood drains, phlebotomy tools, cadaver tables; and the cold lifeless occupants of them. Since he had been summoned anyway (despite their unspoken agreement of ‘live and let live’); the Sheriff knew it had to be important. “I came as soon as I could Ralph, what have you found out?”
“Prepare yourself John. I know you don't like coming down here but it was necessary. I had to show you this in person. If I had tried to explain it over the phone, you wouldn’t have believed me.”
He thought he could handle whatever nightmarish thing Ralph had to show him but he was wrong. With one swift jerk, Ralph removed the sheet and exposed the unrecognizable human remains on the table. It was the most brutally mutilated cadaver he had ever encountered. The sheriff felt a wave of dry heaves make his stomach contract involuntarily. Ralph spoke to distract his nausea. “Do you see anything unusual about this corpse besides its exceptional state of mutilation?”
“Jeez Ralph! Did you have to mangle the body so much?”
“Oh, I forgot. You haven’t seen the body, have you? I’ve yet to even stick my scalpel in ‘John Doe’. It was already this way when your men found it last night.” Before the Sheriff could interject; Ralph continued explaining. “See the esophagus, imploded pelvic region and abdomen?”
“Yes.” The Sheriff replied. He forced himself to look at the monstrosity on the table before them. He attempted to comprehend what the Coroner was trying to point out but the carnage was just too distracting. After a few moments, Ralph further explained.
“I don’t have any theories on how this could happen but the cause of death was sudden traumatic shock and tissue damage to the body." The sheriff glared in annoyance at the medical examiner for stating the obvious. Ralph held up his hand to belay the upcoming sarcasm and continue making his point.
"Despite its seeming impossibility; this man's body has been literally turned inside-out. The remains are just like an inverted piece of clothing; discarded on the floor.”
“How can that be... no human could do th...”
Ralph interrupted. “I don’t know HOW; that’s your job! I’m just trying to inform you of the facts. For lack of a better description; some 'thing' has reached down this man’s throat and gathered up his insides and midsection. Then they were pulled outward while reversing his flesh like a shirt.”
III
Sensing the Sheriff’s next question; Dr. Gentry answered; “Yes it was a man. That much I know. I found his genitals inside his body where his stomach should have been. Here is the stomach. It’s in almost perfect condition except for the fact that it is on the outside of his body.”
Ralph had known John’s logical mind for too long. He anticipated his next thoughts too. “No, I can’t identify him by his teeth. They were pulverized by whatever rammed its way down his throat. His fingertips are still intact so I made his prints for your men to run through the computer.”
John’s walkie talkie unit paged him. “Come in Sheriff Wright!” He reached down and unfastened it from his belt.
“This is the Sheriff. Come in.” He dreaded hearing more bad news but could tell it was coming.
“We’ve found more of ‘em.”; The deputy stated somberly.
“How many more?”; He reluctantly asked. There was no question over what they were discussing.
“Looks like two more severely mangled bodies so far, sir. Another probable body is missing but we have found a blood trail.”
“What’s the 10-20 this time?”; He requested.
“About a mile and a half North of the first crime scene, on Holcomb Bridge road.” The Sheriff pictured the area in his mind and informed the deputy that he would be there ‘right away’. Then he signaled ‘over and out’ and informed Ralph that more of his morgue drawers were about to be occupied.
IV
Once again the crime scene showed traces of radioactivity and the bodies were mutilated beyond recognition. Several detectives were already on the scene when the Sheriff arrived. He was debriefed and led to the bodies.
“Looks like the same ‘m.o.’ as the first victim.”; He remarked to his chief investigator. The previous murder could no longer be treated as an isolated incident. The news media would have a field day with the story and put more even pressure on his department to catch the perpetrator. No one wanted the murderer arrested any more than him but the non-stop calls from the worried public would only hinder their progress.
“Has anyone ran the plates on that camper over there yet? I bet that would provide a strong lead to the identities of these bodies.”
“Yes sir. It belongs to an out-of-town family that were here camping last night at the lake. Mr. and Mrs. James; Frank: 51 and Sherry; age 49. Their 15 year old daughter Regina is still missing but presumed dead; based on signs of a mortal struggle and massive blood loss. We believe the attack started here and proceeded down to the lake.”
Both men stepped over the yellow police tape to follow the gruesome trail while the detective explained his running theory. “From this point; only the suspects strange, er... ‘footprints’ are continuously visible. An occasional set of heel marks show a heavy drag pattern. This would indicate that the victim was either unconscious or dead; and being carried. We have a search team combing the woods for her... ah... body.”
“Good work. Sounds like solid reasoning. Obviously we can't assume the victims are the missing campers without official determination from Dr. Gentry. If these victims are anything like the first one, there will not be any usable dental records to ID the bodies. We may have to request DNA from other family members. By the way, were there any crystals or other unusual objects found near the crime scene?” “Crystals, sir?
“Yes, like the one found at the other crime scene.”
“Do you really think that has anything to do with this, sir? I mean; it just doesn't make any sense."
“None of this makes any sense. It defies logic and sanity. Obviously we have a very violent, highly deranged individual or group on our hands. We can’t rule anything out until we know otherwise. After all, the crystal could be our only concrete lead. No matter how thin or unlikely it seems to us now. If we discover more crystals at this crime scene, then it would appear to be more than an odd coincidence. Oh, and Johnson..... Get a haircut! We’re trying to convey an image of honesty in this department. How can the town’s people trust you if they can’t even see your face?”
“Yes sir, as soon as I get off duty.”; Replied Johnson.
“Go now son. Your work is done here for today.”
V
45 minutes later, three more oblong crystals were found in the bushes by the shoreline. Immediately the Sheriff's 'crystal connection' went from a far-fetched theory; to a near probability. “What kind of maniac would senselessly mutilate innocent people and then leave mineral clusters as a bizarre ‘calling card?’”; The sheriff wondered. "Who or what would even have the superhuman strength necessary to commit such brutal crimes? None of it adds up." The spiked levels of radiation around the crime scenes was equally puzzling.
First he requested a roll call of all mental asylums within a two hundred mile radius. Then he organized a search team with bloodhounds to comb the countryside for signs of the suspect. Lastly, he instructed divers to drag the lake for bodies, first thing in the morning.
“If the press gets hold of these strange details then the headlines will be calling him: ‘The radioactive crystal killer’; or something ridiculous.”; He grimaced. His investigators needed to hold back unknown details in order to weed-out false confessions. Every leaked detail worked against them. The townsfolk depended on them for public safety; yet they was no closer to catching the murderer than they were from day one.
Soon public opinion would turn against his department. When that happened, State police would shut them out of the investigation and take over. Those depressing thoughts plagued him far into the night. It had been an extremely frustrating day. "Small towns are only supposed to only have small-town problems."; He lamented.
The next morning, relatives of Cindy Weeks filed a missing person’s report. The Sheriff investigated her case personally since she had last been seen on a nature trail about 3 miles from the crime scene. The young lady was 19 years old (and legally able to come and go as she pleased) but her parents were insistent that she was responsible. They insisted that she would have phoned if she had made plans to spend the night elsewhere.
Normally after hearing an ‘angelic’ description of a teenager from naive parents; he would have told them there wasn’t anything he could do until 48 hours had passed. However, under the dire circumstances, he had to investigate immediately. Time was of the essence in these matters. With any luck, she would simply turn up (safe and sound) after spending a clandestine night with her boyfriend. Sheriff Wright hoped that was the case. He and the rest of the search team combed the nature trail where she was last seen, as a precautionary measure.
It wasn't far into the search before signs of a struggle, a long blood trail, and another 'posed' crystal pointed to the worst for her. Fortunately, no body was discovered so there was still a (minor) chance of finding her alive. All they could hope for was that Miss Weeks had somehow escaped the ‘crystal maniac’ with survivable injuries.
Sheriff Wright’s next course of action was to check with Ralph about the two newest bodies. As expected, they had met with the same fate as the first unidentified victim. Ralph could offer no new information since he had so little to work with. In a rare moment of cooperation, the Sheriff encouraged Dr. Gentry to ‘keep at it’.
As if he didn’t have enough to worry about, a large mob of reporters surrounded his car. They were all shouting and trying to get an official statement. He gave the standard, “I can offer no information at this time until the investigation is complete”; brush off. Then he added; “My men are working around the clock to find the person, or persons responsible. Please remember that I am personally involved. I live here too. I promise to make an official statement as soon as I can.” With that public appeal for room to do his job, he made it to his car and roared off in a cloud of dust.
VI
Later that night John was roused from his fitful sleep by the incessant ringing of the phone. His wife sat up in bed and turned on the lamp. “It’s 3:30 in the morning! Who would call at this hour?”
He answered the phone and after listening, said; “Yes Shelia; I know you wouldn’t bother me if it wasn’t important.... What is it?”
Mrs. Wright was exasperated. “For heaven’s sake! Don’t they know that you have to sleep some time?” He silently waved for her to be quiet.
“I’ll be right there.”
Marie interrupted; “Can’t this wait ‘til morning?”
John attempted to explain the importance of the situation. “Shelia said there have been strange lights reported at the lake tonight. It may have something to do with the murders. We can’t afford to overlook it.”
As the Sheriff drove down the lonely dirt road that led to the lake, he called for backup. The two deputies on night patrol answered his request for assistance. Deputy Phil Bates and Detective Johnson accompanied him as they circled the nature trail. After 20 minutes in the brisk night air with no sign of 'strange blue lights', they suspected the report was without merit.
The sheriff was about to go back home when all three men witnessed the etherial lights for themselves. They stood in absolute awe as an alien spaceship materialized at the edge of the lake! The side of the ship opened and four shrowded beings came out into the cool night air. The two in the middle removed their cloaks to reveal their hidden identities. To the Sheriff's genuine elation, they were the two missing young ladies. The other two individuals were definitely not human at all. The men were unable to move from the intense excitement of being face-to-face with creatures from another world. Oddly enough, they didn’t feel as if they were in any danger.
In an indeterminate amount of time, one of the aliens spoke. “Are you the one called Sheriff Wright?” The shock of the situation prevented him from responding. It wasn’t everyday that he was addressed by extra terrestrials. The same alien asked if the question had been improperly phrased. Finally the Sheriff managed to ‘choke out’ the correct response.
The other alien stepped forward to make an announcement to the men. “We regret to inform you that our immature offspring accidentally terminated three of your organisms. We are in the final stages of cloning the expired individuals from residual DNA samples that we extracted. Once the regeneration is complete, they will be reintroduced back into their native habitat without delay. We regret the inconvenience this has caused you Sheriff; and would like to explain.
On our planet; there is an extremely docile creature that roams the marshy wetlands. The offspring of our species enjoy keeping them as pets. This 'bashful' animal is very much like your terrestrial box turtle. It recedes inside its body as a defense mechanism when it is frightened. To coax them to come out; our 'children' often leave a feeding crystal near their nest (as a reward or incentive). If they retract back inside themselves to hide, our offspring reach into their shell and pull them ‘right side out’ again.
Sadly, this regrettable incident only happened because of an elemental misunderstanding. You see, the turtle-like animal on our planet closely resembles your human form. Our young incorrectly assumed that your species was also very shy; and thus required inversion coaxing. They were unaware of your somewhat delicate physiology.
VII
After the explanation was given about the purpose of the crystals, Sheriff Wright winked at Johnson. His suggestion that they might be relevant to the investigation had baffled the deputy earlier. Now they both knew that he was basically right; although neither of them could have guessed the crystals were for bait. By that time the Sheriff had gained enough confidence to inquire about the clones. "Will they be exactly the same as their original counterparts?"
“Technically yes. They will be identical; with one notable exception. They will not possess any memories which their original counterparts acquired during their lifetimes. This is because human DNA does not retain memories or any learned information. To compensate, we are programming them with the basic human knowledge needed to survive. Your experts will unfortunately have to teach them anything we overlooked.” In an emotionless tone, the second alien apologized for the inconvenience.
The sheriff pointed to the previously missing girls. “What about them? Are they... ah... clones too?”
“No. They are the originals. We found them before they expired and repaired the tissue damage. There was no permanent damage to them.”
At that time, the freshly cloned victims appeared alongside the aliens and the two girls. After a short pause the ‘talkative’ alien concluded; “Ours is a peaceful race. We has laws which forbid any interference with alien life forms. We must again express our sincere apologies for the inadvertent harm we have caused. We hope there will be no ill will between our two races.”
“Our 'vacation' is complete so we will be leaving your planet now.”; Added the other one.
“Will there be others from your planet spending their 'vacation' here on Earth?”; The Sheriff asked nervously.
“We will be back in about 273 Earth years.”; Replied the talkative one. "By that time, our young will be mature enough to avoid damaging any more of your species." That news greatly relieved the Sheriff. He didn’t think he could handle any more tragic cases of accidental alien mutilation! He was sure he would have his hands full trying to invent an explanation for the ones they already had.
Both aliens made an unfamiliar salutation and returned to their ship. An instant later it gently lifted three or four stories off the surface of the lake and was gone in a ‘blink of an eye’. Phil and Johnson snapped out of their trance-like state and expressed their amazement.
“Sir, what shall we do about this?”; Phil exclaimed.
“Well, they’re definitely out of our jurisdiction now. Besides, we would need something a hell of a lot faster than a patrol car to catch ‘em anyway!”
“Seriously though sir. I almost don’t believe what I just saw with my own eyes; and I know that no one will believe our reports!”; Added Johnson.
“I want everyone present to keep what we just witnessed to ourselves. Is that understood? If anyone breathes a word of this to the press or our neighbors, they will put us in an asylum! Just leave the reports and explanation to me! Oh, and Johnson.... Next time get a REAL haircut! I'm surprised you saw a damn thing.”
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Victim's Remorse
This is the tale of the most necessary element of every murder. A piece so vital, even the grim reaper itself becomes obsessive.
In spite of morning rays on the horizon, the apartment remained dark until noon. The remnants of another lost night in the life Angeline Adams remain cast across the bachelorette layout of her one bedroom house. The couch was littered with school work and job applications, residing there long enough to grow forgotten or irrelevant. The table was covered in empty take-out boxes and empty cans of drinks, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic. The trash can was full, the kitchen counter displayed a week’s share of junk-mail, and the rest of the house was scattered with piles of laundry, assorted by levels of cleanliness. The only noise that could be heard broadcasted from the lone bedroom.
“It appears to be another strangulation,” spoke the monotonous police officer with the voice so familiar, “and possible rape. This fits the M.O. of our killer. That would make four murders this week. Do we have any idea how he broke in?”
“One of our men spoke with a neighbor,” the female cop spoke up, “said she liked to sleep with the window by the fire escape cracked. I will check for prints. ID’d the body yet?”
At that moment, the noise halted. “Guess I fell asleep with the TV on again.” Spoke Angelina, rolling out of bed. “Fuck. It’s noon. I have class in less than an hour; I guess I’ll be grabbing coffee on the go, again.” After showering, she changed clothes from the laundry pile nearest her bed and threw her hair into a ponytail. She grabbed her phone and was out the door, dashing towards the nearest Starbucks. During her trip, she checked her phone; she had three missed calls from her mother and 7 unread text messages. She called her mom back first.
“Angie,” her mom answered without a formal greeting, “why are you just now replying. Did you sleep until noon?”
“No, mom,” Angelina replied, still possessing the angst in her voice she developed in high school, “I’ve been up studying for my calculus test today and left my phone in my room.”
“Oh well, that’s good,” Mrs. Adams replied in the most motherly of voices, “are your grades better now that you have ridded yourself of that leech?”
“Brian had nothing to do with my grades,” Angelina replied, “but yes, I feel like I’m doing much better this semester.”
“Good,” her mother answered, “Your father and I worry if you’re ok being so far away from home or if the stress is too much for you. I know it must be difficult with the apartment and job hunt.”
Now was the moment that culminated from every conversation between Angie and her mother; the time for Angelina to decide whether to ask her mother her reason for calling and creating an unnecessary with negative effects on both Angie’s stress levels and her mother’s concerns, or to assure her that everything was smooth sailing in Columbus and relive the unsettling numbness that haunted her every day. Today, timeliness answered the question for her.
“Everything is fine mom,” Angelina answered, “Sorry I can’t talk, but I have to run. I’m late for class already. Thanks for calling, hope to see you soon. Tell dad how much I miss you two.” She then hung up the phone without waiting for a response and was off to her class. She dreaded the day her mother learned to send text messages. Avoiding these conversations would become much more difficult.
Once Angelina settled into her seat at the back of the classroom, she checked her text messages. Five were from an assortment of friends asking her to come out with them for the night. All of Angelina’s “freshmen friends” as she called them were always concerned that she worried too much about life and constantly tried to cure her of concerns with a night of drinking. Angelina hardly ever relaxed at this type of scene and the anxiety of knowing she had lost hours of valuable time to something non-productive only made these situations worse. But her friends were resilient, so she often ignored these messages, telling them the next day that she had misplaced her phone.
The other two messages were from her ex-boyfriend, Brian. Both were essentially the same message, just carefully reworded. “Lina, how have you been? I miss you and was wondering if you were still at OSU. I know we aren’t as close as we once were, but I still care about you and want to be friends. I understand if you still don’t feel comfortable around me, but I will do what I can to make it easy on you. I know I can make this work. Just text me sometime this week, I will make time.”
She received messages like this almost bi-nightly ever since she finally raised the courage to end their tumultuous relationship six months ago. Each time she would compose a snarky, venomous reply that read almost exactly as the one she typed today: “Listen Brian, I know you have trouble accepting you’re not in control of a situation, but neither I nor life is going to create a circumstance in which we reconnect. You are incapable of “making this work” because it isn’t your situation to work, it’s mine. I was the one that left you, after years of obeying to your passive-aggressive, sly demands. The sacrifices I made for you are still affecting my life daily and I have no intention of delaying my life any more than I already have for someone as selfish and heartless as yourself. Nothing you can say is going to bring me back under your moralist, 1950’s reign of power. You will have to find another naïve, insecure girl to control, because I can’t be your graveyard anymore.”
Just as had happened with every occurrence, she never pushed send on the message. Unlike every other time, however, this time it was out of her control. The professor had spotted her and asked her to close her phone and not disrespect his class anymore. Angelina did promptly, deleting the message, but that did not suffice the irritated professor who then dismissed Angelina from the class. As Angelina walked out she began to cry. Life was finally starting to hit her. It’s strange how when problems start to appear, you just keep moving, hoping to stay ahead of the problems, not unlike a supersonic jet outracing sound against all logical conceptualization. But just like with the jet, eventually the sound and the fury will catch up with you; and if the problems have multiplied enough, then the sonic boom will be earth-shattering and catastrophic. The crash happening to Angelina was going to create a disaster zone.
She was able to make it to the bathroom before the tears rushed to the surface. She sat by the sink, staring down herself and a thousand problems. As her psychiatrist had taught her to do, she closed her eyes and imagined back to a time before any of these problems existed. She closed her eyes and was back in the eighth grade, passing notes to the latest crush. That night, the only concern she would face was that life wouldn’t change for the better. What a wonderful blessing that was; to never worry about the quality of life declining, always only the chance of improvement. This particular boy would, in fact, disappear from her life, leaving her in the same carefree spirits she already possessed, and creating opportunities for an onset of possibilities life hadn’t even presented yet. Now, Angelina Adams was at peace with the world.
She opened her eyes, now immune to the dried makeup and tears that covered her face and began phase two of her recovery. She made a list of all of the current problems that confronted her.
1. Brian is still a hindrance to my progress in life.
2. I haven’t found a job to replace the waitressing job I just quit.
3. My bills are due soon. I may have enough for one more month’s payments.
4. I need to ace about 80% of my remaining exams to not be placed on academic probation.
5. I cannot imagine that 20% of my remaining exams are ace-able.
6. I can’t survive without dependence or at least co-dependence on someone else. I need accompaniment.
The tears began to form again beneath her eyelids, the telling sign that her list was complete. “If what you have down so far is enough to overwhelm you,” she recalls her psychiatrist telling her, “then it is enough on your plate so far.” So Angelina read over the list and realized the magnitude of her issues. This was much bigger than the high school crushes that once kept her awake at night. Her problems now don’t keep her awake at all; Angelina just wants to sleep, and escape the problems for eternity. But Angelina remembered her tattoo and looked on the underside of her wrist. Bend but do not break. The lowest lows only create the highest climbs. She gathered herself and headed for the cafeteria.
To further test her belief in resiliency, as if she honestly needed it, the first person she encountered when she entered the cafeteria was none other than Brian. Angelina spotted his candid, shallow smile from the other side of open room. She tried to avoid his sight, but to no avail.
“Lina,” Brian shouted, as if they were lifelong friends happening upon each other, “How have you been? I tried texting you.”
“Please don’t call me that,” Angelina mumbled almost incoherently, “And I have noticed the texts I am just really busy with school.”
“Anything I could help with, Lina?” Brian asked. Brian was a year ahead of Angie and Angie loathed that more than almost anything about him. Brian had always previously experienced Angie’s college problems or had already taken her classes, and therefore always knew the correct line of action or at least new enough to belittle her issues.
“No, thank you,” she replied angrily, “your aide in previous semesters did not benefit me very greatly and I already asked you once, do not call me that.”
“I’ve always called you that,” Brian retorted, “you can’t change how I address you to justify hiding yourself from me. You’re disguising yourself behind a very thin veil.”
“No, I was once disguised behind a veil,” Angelina shouted, no longer worrisome of who heard, “I was once hidden behind the veil of your beliefs and your opinions. I even accepted a name that I loathed. After spending two decades writing my initials as “AA” you wanted to call me by a name beginning with “L” because you thought it was cute. Well I hated it, and this may sound like an innocuous offense to you, but to me it was one more damaging blow in your repertoire to anonymize me and recreate me as a clone of yourself. As much fun as you may consider having another you present, I would much prefer the rawest version of myself. Brian, you are no longer a part of my life and more importantly, not a piece of my future plans. If you could please make the egotistical compromise to treat yourself as such for my well-being, it would be much appreciated. If not, then I hope you are at least clear-headed enough to recognize why it is unhealthy for me to be a part of this charade you label life.”
Before she could even hear his robot-like retort that he always had, the one that always made her feel weak for having to display emotion to construe a point, she stomped off. The fact of the matter is Angelina Adams had spent many hours of every night for countless months erecting that statement in the most precise, truthful manner possibly conveyed. Because of that, she couldn’t stand there and let Brian potentially bring it down. She refused to lose even this to him after all that had already been sacrificed.
As she marched across campus, purposefully but without direction, her path was interrupted by a “freshmen friend,” Caroline Thomas.
“I watched what just happened back there,” she said, “and I am so proud of you for standing up to that sleazebag. How have you been?”
Angelina breathed in deeply, and with her exhale and a feign smile, she replied “Good, in my own apartment, now and trying to get through my degree and onto the real world. You?” She forced the fake laugh and displayed unreal optimism as she had so many times since freshmen year. That seemed so long ago, now. She was in her third year, but still a sophomore with the failed classes. Her academic struggles coincided with Brian to push her away from her friends, but she had realized recently that a self-empathy prevented her from being that happy now.
“I have no idea how you do it, Angie. I struggle every day to pay bills, keep my grades up, and stay social and you seem to do it as if it is the simplest task,” Caroline replied, “I wish you could show me your ways.”
At that moment, Angelina remembered why she liked Caroline more than her other friends. She was always so complimentary of Angelina. Angelina had longed for the support garnered from such a loyal companion, especially in the wake of the psychological warfare recently endured from Brian. Angelina genuinely liked, honestly appreciated, Caroline. Which is why for the first time in weeks, she accepted an invitation to an evening of interaction, in spite of the mountainous responsibilities she would be neglecting.
Angelina decided to skip her one remaining class to go back by her apartment to pay the water bill, seeing as it would be turned off tomorrow otherwise. On the three block walk home, she had the inexplicable impulse to call her mother. She couldn’t recall the last time she had placed a call to her mother and not in response to a missed call. But with all of the stresses of life culminating, the refuge of her mother’s voice sounded attractive to Angelina.
“Hey Angie,” her mother answered with a surprised tone, “everything ok?”
“Yeah, mom,” Angelina answered, exhaling before she continued, “I was just calling to vent, really. I ran into Brian today and exploded on him. I let him know exactly how I felt.”
“I know that must be hard,” Mrs. Adams answered reassuringly, “and that you feel like it was undeserved. Trust me, though, whatever you said was only a slight punishment for the way he treated you. You are a beautiful human being and as your mother, all I want is to see you blossom into a bold, beautiful, independent young woman. I will never forgive him for his impedance of that. I am so proud of you for standing your ground and being the self-sufficient woman I always knew you were capable of becoming and I love you very much.”
“Thanks mom,” Angelina answered, feeling the oncoming rush of emotions building, “but I am not as self-serving as you would’ve hoped I would be.”
“What are you talking about,” Angie’s mother replied, “you are 21 years old, living alone in a hardly familiar city battling through the hardest years of education at a prestigious university. Few people have ever been so accomplished at such a young age. I wish I had been.”
“But I’m not succeeding at this,” Angelina said, now sobbing, speaking through the tears, “I can’t find a job, or make myself even want to look. I am slowly falling behind on another semester of school. I can’t keep up with anything necessary to live independently. And now I am realizing I have pushed all of my friends away to the point that I am lonely. I have failed, at pretty much all of this.”
“Angelina Bethany Adams,” her mother replied sharply and unwavering, “failure means you have lost the chance to succeed. If you were to curb your educational progress and pace yourself to graduate at 25, would that make you a failure?”
“No,” Angelina managed to say through deep draws of much needed oxygen. Angelina never understood how her mother held together so well. If Angie could possess any superpower, it would be her mother’s unbreakable composure.
“And you also don’t think you can live alone,” her mother continued, “not many people can. I know I wouldn’t survive a weekend without your father. I would call 911 the first time a pipe busted. We aren’t independent creatures, Angie, you need to find someone supportive and not destructive to become a codependent. Fortunately, college is the perfect place to find people just like that. And you say you are a recluse now but I’m sure all of your pre-Brian friends would welcome you back with open arms. You guys were so close just a year ago. Have you reconnected with any since you returned to campus?”
“Yes,” Angelina answered matter-of-factly. A mother would always be able to reduce me to tears, and then dry up the same tears in a matter of minutes. “I just talked to Caroline. We are going out tonight. She was always the best communicator anyway.”
“See,” Mrs. Adams spoke, now with a sense of optimism, “just today you have ridded yourself of the ghosts of Brian and reconnected with your former best friend. Soon, school will be your only concern, and at that point you will be able to conquer it as well. As for your employment situation, find something once you can handle. Your father and I can always be your monetary safety-net. We can’t think of anything we would rather spend our cash on than an investment in your future.”
“Thank you mom,” she spoke, walking up the stairs to her apartment now, “for always believing in me, even when I ignore your calls, only to call you crying. I really do love you and appreciate this more than I could ever show you.”
“Honey,” Angelina’s mom said in the nurturing tone of a seasoned parent, “You showed enough gratitude the first month you were home to make any sacrifices you ever made worth it. One day you will understand this. The first time that your daughter stops crying simply because she is in your arms, you will have all the inspiration to give until your daughter is 21 and on the phone needing help, and for many years beyond that. I promise you have always been worthwhile, and always will be. I love you.”
When her mom gets sentimental, Angelina knows that it is intended more for herself than Angelina. But this time, Angelina needed to hear that more than ever in her life. The overwhelming anxiety was replaced by a sense of joyous bliss. All Angelina could manage to say was “Thanks, mom,” and hung up the phone. She sat down on her couch and stared out her window, basking in realization. “What a view,” she thought to herself, an epiphany that hadn’t really occurred since the day she moved into the place.
It is strange how hypnotic thought only occurs for some people in times of melancholy. If Angelina remained busy, she also remained distracted. When she was distracted, issues didn’t weigh on her and she maintained positivity about life. If Angelina was optimistic, then she was also fervent about opportunities surrounding her. This sense of enthusiasm kept her impervious to the negatives of the world and so the cycle began and continued. Hanging above Angelina’s was a quote from Albert Einstein: “Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” This could not possibly be truer than in this moment of Angelina’s journey.
The entire night with Caroline was forgettable, in the best way possible. They enjoyed drinks and food, caught up with each other’s life and enjoyed the other’s presence. Angelina found herself returning to the bad habit of distorting the facts of her recent struggles to make herself sound much more successful. One day soon, however, Angelina hoped to not have to falsify her accomplishments. The fact that Angelina felt she would take no memories home from this night was a positive, because she hadn’t dwelled on a single issue, even when the conversation turned to vulnerable discussion points.
“I don’t know, Angie,” Caroline said, “sometimes I feel like we were invincible as freshmen and took on every responsibility we could. I look back on that like I was either idiotic or delusional. Now I can hardly handle the responsibilities necessary for survival.”
“I think our optimism,” answered Angelina, “made us invincible. When life finally punched back we were unprepared. But the important thing is we staggered but never fell. Now we have given ourselves the chance to fight back. Luckily for us, the past few years have us hardened. The world doesn’t stand a chance.”
Caroline extended her glass and they toasted to that statement. Caroline suggested watching movies like they did each Tuesday as freshmen. Angelina thought this idea was the perfect end to the night and invited Caroline over to her place. They stopped to grab movies on the way, ‘classics’ as they called them, when truthfully they were just movies with positive memories attached. Angelina felt an oncoming headache and slight dizziness on the way home, probably from the alcohol. Angelina argued that she was fine, considering the number of drinks she can usually consume, she should have been right.
They arrived at Angelina’s apartment, and Angie turned to Carrie (Angelina decided to start calling Caroline this because she never received a shortened name like Angelina had freshmen year) to warn her that it was a mess. When she turned however, all Angelina could remember was the sharp pain of a bright light and falling to the ground. When she woke up, she was tied to a kitchen chair with Caroline a few feet from her face, flipping through the pile of documents Angelina had stowed away on her couch.
“For miss successful,” Caroline said, without looking up, “you sure seem to have failed to handle your responsibilities lately.” Angelina struggled with each end of the chair but was unable to budge the rope. She still felt weak, perhaps she was in shock from whatever was occurring, or maybe Caroline had drugged her. Angie was attempting to piece it all together. Caroline continued now, “I’m sure you are shocked to find one of your sweet ‘sheeple’ attacking you like this, you ignorant bitch. You seem to think the world has revolved around you. It looks like your world has hardly extended past these walls. What’s wrong? Was it too hard to face a reality with imperfections?”
Angelina began to panic, wondering what she could do and what all of this meant. She closed her eyes and tried to figure out an escape. All of her attempts seemed in vain. Now, the last epiphany was occurring in the mind of Angie Adams, she was going to die a 21 year old college student. Anxiety overwhelmed her and depression crushed her. The adolescent dreamer never envisioned life without marriage, college degrees, or employment. She was going to perish at the lowest point of her existence. Her breaths quickened, then became heavier. She resorted to the only refuge she knew. Close her eyes and return to the most unbreakable moment of happiness.
She struggled, thinking deep and hard to drown out the berating of Caroline. She heard her say “you left me staggering, but I never fell. Now I have a chance to fight back and unfortunately for you, I’ve been much more hardened than you, and you don’t stand a chance.” Angelina found it silly how Caroline felt that murdering a human being made her some sort of literary genius. Why would society even want to delve into the minds of a killer anyway? The action is a culmination of the greatest achievements in immaturity meeting the highest ignorance of responsibilities. Angeline wondered to herself why she would even care what Caroline had to say. Did she hope to invoke victim’s remorse? Does she realize how silly that sounds? What could she possibly be grasping about human understanding by ending a human’s ability to understand? How misguided could one be, thought Angelina.
The postulation had eased Angelina’s worries enough to allow her to escape reality and into her “zen zone” as she knew it. Completely unaware of her current surroundings, Angelina envisioned the one time she recalled where the world made perfect sense and life couldn’t defeat her. On the stillness of the street, she heard the all too familiar voice:
“I promise you have always been worthwhile, and always will be. I love you.”
Angelina whispered to herself, “Thanks, mom” then attempted to open her eyes, though she had grown too weak. Amidst Caroline’s babbling she thought she remembered hearing something about poison. Perhaps this was her method of execution. Angelina felt disoriented physically, but her mind remained as available as ever. Angelina was on to phase 2 of her process of psychological healing. She listed each of the problems that confronted her. And Angelina dwelled on this for moments before coming to the realization that with the end occurring, she had zero worries clogging her mind. What could possibly concern her now? What was done was done, and nothing could ever change who she was?
This spun into a different theological idea. What legacy had she produced? She was the all-American girl throughout high school and freshmen year. Each night, until the last, at least two people cared enough about her to call her uncontrollably. Even though Brian was the stick in the spokes that threw her off the bicycle of life, he had loved her enough to be part of her journey and would certainly love her in memoriam. Angelina would leave behind the unwavering love of a certainly crushed mother. Hundreds of friends would mourn her untimely loss, some to a much greater severity, but one fact now would be forever true; Angelina Adams was on a path to great success and because she refused to venture from the path, the loss of such a brilliant person is also the loss of a life of good and important work. In imagining that work, Angelina Adams is forever the success story she had dreamed of since the first time she donned a princess dress in front of a mirror.
As the poison infiltrated her mind and the light grew sharper in her sight, one thought stuck with Angelina in her waning moments, and she tried to mutter it as she died. “I will forever be the girl too good to die. Now, you’ll always be the girl who was a waste of a life.”
Angelina Adams died at 11:23 pm with a smile and a dream.
The most intriguing parts of any story, especially the ones involving death, are the ones we never hear.
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Good and Bad: Hair Extensions!
The moment has FINALLY arrived! The fabulous hair extensions that Milk + Blush sent me finally arrived in the mail (after the longest wait ever that involved the package being sent twice and us becoming friends with the regional manager of La Poste). It's been a little over a week now with these gorgeous babies and I wanted to share my full analysis (scroll to the end for a discount code if you decide to try them for yourself!).
I was nervous that hair extensions wouldn't work for me or that I wouldn't like how they felt on my head - I'm generally pretty low-maintenance and was worried that I would look like a poser with extra-long hair. I think I just kind of wrote them off in my late teens as something that would never be for me, and I really didn't think of them again until I got more into the blogging and social media world and realized how common they actually were and how many of my favorite creators rock them every day. Once I realized that, I couldn't stop thinking about wanting to try out having an instant 6 extra inches of hair!
So, I started researching what I wanted and which hair extension companies seemed the most high-quality. I was thrilled when I reached out to Milk + Blush and they responded that they love what I'm doing and would be happy to send some extensions to try, and the best part was through figuring out which shade of hair would work for me and then it being out of stock and then all the problems with the French post system, they had a fabulous friendly customer service team that was so easy to work with. I absolutely love their website and their extension sets, but I'll get into more details in a minute!
THE NEGATIVES
First, I wanted to get into some of the downsides of extensions (in general, not particular to Milk + Blush) that I wish I had seen more of on the internet before I got them. None of these things would have stopped me from getting them, but I just wish I had been more prepared!
They take longer to put in than you think. I am usually really, really low maintenance with my hair. Wash, air dry, throw a few curls in with my straightener and I'm good to go used to be my M.O., but those days are gone with extensions. I don't mind taking a little more time to install extensions and blend them with my hair, but I have struggled a bit with remembering to schedule that time in.
You'll feel them all day long. I'm sure over time I'll get more and more used to the feeling, and I have definitely gotten better at placing them in the most comfortable spots, but despite every extension brand raving about how comfortable their clip-ins are, I haven't gotten to the point yet where I just forget that they're there. If you're a gal who values comfort above all else, clip-in extensions might not be for you. Add to that the summer heat making your head full of added hair feel like your scalp is constantly overheating, and extensions can be a real commitment to the phrase "beauty is pain."
You'll simultaneously feel extra self-conscious and extra confident when you're wearing extensions. I've discovered that extensions are a huge confidence boost for me (which could be filed under the "positives" of extensions) - my husband's jaw literally hit the floor the first time I put them in and I've now decided I MUST grow my natural hair out starting yesterday. But, as confident and sexy and feminine as I feel with big beautiful long locks, I also have a nagging worry in the back of my mind all day long that all my tracks are showing and everyone knows my hair is fake and I look like a fool. I've become a little more high-maintenance - I tend to check the back of my head to make sure everything is as it should be whenever I use the restroom, where I never used to do that before. I'm extra careful with the way I move and very paranoid of any kind of wind. This is also something that might disappear the more I wear them, but this week I have definitely noticed the difference.
THE POSITIVES
Whew - now that the downsides of extensions are out of the way, let's talk about what I love about them! There are a lot of reasons extensions are now going to be a staple of my beauty routine, and here are just a few.
Confidence, confidence, confidence. I can't even tell you how long my hair journey has been. I have the most bland, middle-of-the-road hair naturally. It's slightly wavy, but more on one side of my head than the other, so I can't really just let it air dry and be done. It's not too thin but also not thick enough to look really great without some volumizing product, and it's a very average dark brown color with a reddish tint. Since dying it blonde, it's got a little more of the nice texture I wish it had without chemically damaging it, but it's just actually really hard to work with when it's totally natural. I've done just about every hair cut and color from a platinum blonde pixie to black shoulder-length with big blunt bangs (should I do a post chronicling all my crazy hairstyles sometime?) but the one thing I've never had is really long hair, because that requires years and years of careful hair care and slow growth. I've always had a bit of long hair envy - I know every girl out there has at least one friend with amazing crazy-long big hair that looks amazing no matter what - and to be able to clip in some extensions and suddenly BE that person is so cool! Sure, I take them out at the end of the day, but that just means more options, right? There's an extra bounce in my step as I strut down the street with a waterfall of perfect blonde curls swaying behind me.
There are endless hairstyle options. I have suddenly become a huge fan of hair tutorial videos because now, I can try all of them out like I never have been able to before! Milk + Blush has a fabulous Youtube channel that has tons of awesome tutorials on how to do different styles. I've never spent much time on hairstyles myself because my hair is honestly just too thin and short to do most things and make them look really good. Hair extensions fix that problem - even if you have longer hair, extensions will add that extra volume that take your updo's to the next level. It's seriously life-changing to instantly go from being able to do only small buns and sad half-do's to massive viking-style braids and insanely long ponytails.
You'll feel inspired to grow your hair out (or not). Extensions, for me, are bridging the gap between the hair I have and the hair I want to have. I did the math and in about a year and a half, my hair should be almost the length my extensions are now (my hair grows at about the average of 6 inches per year). That's great because these extensions should last about a year and at that point, I'll be ready to move from my current 16"-18" set to the longer 20"-22" set. I'm committing now to not cutting my hair for at least a year (besides a trim if my bleached ends get too ratty) and just seeing what I might have been missing out on this whole time by never letting my hair grow. If at that point I decide that natural long hair just isn't my thing, the best part about these is that I can instantly have long hair whenever I want and also keep my comfortable shoulder-length hair if I need to. How awesome is that??
Human hair extensions really do feel like regular hair. The parts clipped to your head may feel a little weird, but the quality of Milk + Blush extensions for the price really can't be beat. One thing I do love is running my fingers through my natural hair blended with my extensions and having it all feel like the same hair - just slightly better, thicker, silkier hair than my own very bleached locks. That is a major plus. I also love that I can wet them and let them air-dry into perfect loose waves that match my own (less consistent) ones. It makes it so easy to still rock perfect hair on days when I don't have a ton of time!
Milk + Blush has the best website and support for first-timers. This is a Milk + Blush-specific perk (and I'm not getting paid to say this) - Milk + Blush, of all the companies I researched on my extension hunt, has by far the best website and support info for girls new to the extensions game. There are a few reasons for that. One is their awesome team who is quick to respond to emails and can provide knowledgeable answers to all your extension questions (I thought my hair color would be hard to match, but I sent in a couple pictures of my hair in natural light and they were able to recommend the absolute perfect shade with no toning necessary!). I also love their extension set options - they've got a good range of thicknesses (100g up to 265g) and types (seamless or classic) and SO MANY SHADES to choose from! I know that when I go back to my natural color (which is bound to happen someday), they'll still have a shade for me. The other thing I love about Milk + Blush is their Youtube channel mentioned above - it's so helpful to see tutorials not only of hairstyles with extensions, but using the exact set that you have (because every company does things a little differently!). They've got support through your entire extension process - not just up until you've purchased, but they don't leave you hanging when you're struggling to get them installed right the first time. So so good.
Alright, here's my wrap-up: if you've ever wanted to try extensions, if you've ever wished you could have the hair that makes you feel like a princess every day, just do it. Don't just resign yourself to unhappiness or dissatisfaction in the hair department if you have the extra bit of money to spend and you can live with the few downsides I mentioned above, because that's what I did and it took me so long to get over that! I can't believe what I was missing out on and I don't think I'll ever go back, really and truly.
And if you do decide to take the plunge, I've got a discount code for you that Milk + Blush was kind enough to set up for you guys! Use KISSES10 or KISSES5 for 5£ or $10 off your first purchase of an extension set :)
XOXO,
Emmalyn
#hair extensions#should I try hair extensions#first time with hair extensions#how to hair extensions#wearing hair extensions#milk + blush review#hair extensions review#downsides of hair extensions#quad weft hair extensions#milk + blush extensions#milk + blush discount code
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Brad vs. the Book: Take road warrior Virginia, points
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Slaying the sportsbook is a monstrous task. Some days bettors take up residence in a penthouse suite. Other times, they curl up in the nearest ditch, shirtless. In an attempt to avoid complete destitution, I will post my picks, whether profitable or penniless, through the NCAA tourney. Check out this weekend’s selections below:
Kansas (18-2) at Kentucky (17-3)
Blue bloods have been the center of conversations throughout the college basketball world. UCLA, though struggling of late, is a popular pick to reach the Final Four. Duke, despite its problems, continues to have bandwagoners. But it’s Kansas and Kentucky that have mostly led the charge among iconic programs.
The Wildcats are still licking their wounds after stumbling in Knoxville earlier in the week. Largely unopposed in SEC action, they’ve steamrolled most opponents emerging victorious by an average margin of 23 points. They force numerous turnovers (20.5 TO%), fly high in transition and aggressively, and successfully, attack the tin inside (56.0 2PT%). Freshmen sensations Malik Monk, Da’Aaron Fox and Edrice Adebayo are one dynamic trio. Equally adored by computer algorithms (No. 2 in KenPom), they possess few weaknesses. Long-distance shooting – only 23.9 percent of their points (No. 318 in the country) are scored from threes – is their only chink in the armor.
Well-roundedness is paramount in beating Kentucky. Limiting transition opportunities, standing tall inside and executing smoothly on the offensive end is the only way to topple it. In other words, near perfection is necessary. That’s what UCLA, Louisville and Tennessee accomplished in their respective dispatchings of Big Blue. Kansas, a sharp, battle-tested club with terrific veteran leadership, coming off its own hard-to-swallow road loss at West Virginia, certainly has the ingredients.
Numerically speaking, the clash is evenly matched. Both are outstanding defensive teams that also crash the offensive glass and score at will in the paint. Ultimately, whoever strokes it smoothest from outside will determine the outcome. The Jayhawks, who feature four dead-eyes from distance in Frank Mason III, Lagerald Vick, Devonte’ Graham and Sviatoslav Mykhailiuk (Each shoot 39-plus percent from three), have enough firepower to keep it close, despite it’s absent depth down low in wake of Carlton Bragg’s suspension.
Rupp will be rockin,’ but Kansas won’t go quietly.
Fearless Forecast: Kentucky 87 Kansas (+7) 82
Virginia (16-3) at Villanova (19-2)
Lost in the topsy-turvy week, Virginia notched arguably the most impressive win of any team anywhere. The Cavaliers, small underdogs on the road, kicked down the doors of the Joyce Center and extinguished the fiery hands of the Fighting Irish. In that game, Notre Dame was held to 0.859 points per possession, its lowest output since getting gutted by North Carolina in the ACC tournament LAST YEAR. Exchanging pleasantries with Villanova, a team that faired very differently at Marquette last Sunday, UVA is faced with a much taller task.
The Cavs’ formula is the same as it’s always been under Tony Bennett – slowly squeeze opponents to death with a half-court centered style and suffocating defense. They’re well-coached, proficient on both ends (top-16 in offensive and defensive efficiency), make few mistakes (15.8 TO%) and are occasionally lethal from three (40.8 3PT%). London Perrantes, Mariol Shayok and Devon Hall are an unselfish, highly productive trio. It’s why they’re an absurd 6-1 in true road games this year.
The defending National Champs are again a frontrunner, and for good reason. Josh Hart, my early pick for National Player of the Year, is a knight in shining armor. He plays big, slashes to the cup with ease, guards tenaciously and skies for boards. There may be no player with a more complete game and tougher mentality than the senior. Flanked by sharpshooter Kris Jenkins and emerging stud Jalen Brunson, the ‘Cats are a wonderfully harmonious, though undersized, team.
Critical to where bettors should place their hard-earned dollars is paint performance. Hall, Isaiah Wilkins and off-the-bench contributor, Jack Salt, give the Cavs a post advantage. Exploit it and challenge Hart’s dribble penetration and they could steal a W. But in a contest that will be decided by late freebies, I believe Villanova barely prevails.
Fearless Forecast: Villanova 60 Virginia (+4) 58
Indiana (14-7) at Northwestern (17-4)
Over the course of five months a pair of well-known Chicago sports curses may no longer exist. The Cubs did their part polishing off Cleveland in early November. Now, it’s Northwestern’s turn.
The Wildcats continue to log milestone after milestone. Last week, for example, they registered their first win against Ohio St., in Columbus, since the Jimmy Carter administration. Winners in six of their first eight conference games – their best start since the 1943-1944 season – they are not only well on pace to erase the NCAA Tournament hex, they are legitimate Big Ten title contenders. Whether inside Welsh Ryan or away, they’ve handled business.
Northwestern’s M.O. is bottling up opponents by employing hard-nosed half-court man defense. It’s conceded a mere 0.954 points per possession this season. Not overlooking their offensive contributions, Vic Law and Friends share the sugar beautifully, splash over 36 percent from three and rarely commit turnovers. That, mis amigos, is a formula for success.
As for the Hoosiers, their fall from grace has been rather precipitous. A fixture in top-25 popularity polls prior to Big Ten play, they’ve stumbled out to a .500 start in league play. Horrendous defense – and that’s putting it mildly – combined with turnover problems and the devastating loss of sophomore enforcer OG Anunoby have taken the air out of the balloon. Thursday against Michigan, arguably Indiana’s most rancid performance of the season, it surrendered 1.546 points per possession. It has enough potency on offense to compete, but without any direction on D, the snowball will only build.
Slam the sledgehammer. Northwestern sprinkles a little more pixie dust on its magical season.
Fearless Forecast: Northwestern (-6.5) 79 Indiana 72
Other Leans: Penn St. (-2.5), Nevada (-3.5), Butler (-9.5), Oregon (-6.5), Georgia Tech (+6.5), Wake Forest (+3.5), Florida (-1)
Parlay Play: Penn St. (-2.5), Oregon (-6.5), Florida (-3)
Year to date (From Twitter): 124-120-2 ATS
Want to throw elbows at Brad? Follow him on Twitter @YahooNoise.
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