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mack-mack-mack · 1 month ago

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Very Demure, Very Mindful-Toto Wolff

First time posting on Tumblr. I think you all would appreciate this more here than on AO3.

Summmary: Mr. Wolff was the…most interesting person to work with. He was always willing to participate in a trend, but he always took extra convincing. I have to basically beg on my knees every time I step into his office asking for content. He seemed to enjoy watching me struggle and I still don't know how to handle that. It felt like I was losing a game I didn't quite know I was playing.

Toto is very mindful, very demure (We all saw the video).

I love my job. I swear I do. I mean how many get to say they follow the Mercedes Formula One team around, convincing them to participate in social media challenges and trends?

Unfortunately, some days it was an impossible task. On other days, it was the best job in the world. Today was one of those rough days.

George was the easiest person to make videos with. He was charismatic and funny. The audience ate him up every time. Lewis was an enigma. I was terrified of the man. He was way too cool for TikTok let alone casual conversation with the social media manager. The crew was always eager and the junior divisions often came up with their own ideas…that they would send me at all hours of the day, begging me to do whatever it was the next time they were together.

And then there was Toto.

Mr. Wolff was the…most interesting person to work with. He was always willing to participate in a trend, but he always took extra convincing. I have to basically beg on my knees every time I step into his office asking for content. He seemed to enjoy watching me struggle and I still don't know how to handle that. It felt like I was losing a game I didn't quite know I was playing.

He flusters me. He makes me blush and I have to fight the giggles that try to escape when he speaks to me. And then he makes this really intense eye contact and I forget how to breathe. Every. Single. Time.

It wasn't right to have a crush on the Team Principal. But honestly, who didn't? Have you seen him? Can I be blamed? No.

I had already collected footage of George, Kimi, and a few others for the day. That was easy and it was fun. Lewis wasn't in today so his photoshoot from the last race weekend would suffice. Huge weight off my shoulders, really. If I had to work with both Lewis and Toto today I don’t think I would have survived.

Maybe I’ll post a Roscoe slideshow and count that for Lewis. I’ll text his agent later.

I nodded and wrote down a few notes on the outline attached to my clipboard, noticing the limited content I gathered while at headquarters. It was race weekend so everyone was heading to Zaandavort in a few days. I knew I would end up with more footage over the weekend and plenty to edit before we left.

It was time to visit Toto though. Which meant I had to stop avoiding the office at the end of the hall on the top floor and actually speak to the older man. I checked the watch on my wrist and saw it was 4:30. I had an hour to get up the nerve, talk to him, film things, and not melt into a puddle at his feet. Easy.

Most people had left the office already, preparing to jet off the next day, so it was silent as I made my way to the elevators and up to the top floor of the building, turning left at the landing. I took a deep breath, shaking out my hands as I approached the end of the hall. I stopped in front of his slightly ajar door and gave myself an internal pep talk.

You're a bad bitch and you will not succumb to Toto. He is just a man. You eat men for breakfast.

I rapped on the door three times, waiting for the response from inside.

I heard the tapping of keys cease after a moment and then an accented voice spoke, “Yes?”

I pushed the door open with shaky hands, “Hi, Mr. Wolff,”

He smiled when I walked in and shook his head, “I’ve told you to call me Toto,”

“And I told you I can’t do that, sir,”

The man stared at me from behind his desk, his head tilted and the same small smile on his lips. Very kissable lips.

Stop it.

“Very well. Come in. Shut the door.” He motioned me into the room.

I walked in and stood in front of his desk and closed the door behind me. I walked to his desk but didn’t sit down on any of the plush chairs. I was far too jumpy to take a seat.

“How can I help you, dear?” Toto asked standing from his seat, coming to the front of the desk, and leaning a hip against it.

Did he just call me dear? Why is he so close to me?

I resisted the urge to take a step back, maintaining the foot of space between us. He was close enough I could smell him and it was already starting to cloud my senses.

“Umm,” I had to remember the question. What did he ask?

He arched an eyebrow at me but said nothing as I stuttered in front of him. Was he smirking? Did he think this was funny?

“I-uh. I need some social media content from you if that's okay. There's this trend that everyone is doing right now and the crew thought it would be the most funny if you were the one to do it. And I have to listen because they are so right. It would be hilarious. Really it would. But only if you want to, Mr. Wolff. It’s silly really,” I was rambling. I shut my mouth mid-thought and stared up at the man in front of me.

“It would be funny if I did it, you say? And why is that, darling?” He was fully smiling now, his eyes sparkling with something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“So there’s this trend, right? And it's really silly,” I was repeating myself. I want to crawl into my skin, “Basically there was this creator on TikTok who made a video and it blew up and now everyone is making videos saying ‘very, demure, very mindful’ and it would be funny if you did it cause y’know…um,” I trailed, fidgeting under his unrelenting gaze.

“Because I’m so very demure, very mindful,?” Toto cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“I mean, I um well...I mean do you feel demure and mindful, Mr. Wolff? I can’t tell you how you feel so do you feel demure and mindful? If you don’t want to we won’t make the video and I’ll leave you be. It’s really okay, I’ll ask George to do it this weekend. It’ll be funny too,” I couldn't stop talking. I always word-vomited in front of this man. Have since I was hired. I am praying for the day he finally decides to shut me up.

He just stared at me, that same look still dancing in his dark eyes. I stared back at him, frozen in place. I could feel my cheeks getting hot.

Please stop looking at me like that or I’m going to combust.

“What was that, darling?” Toto asked, licking his lips and leaning back onto his hands. He looked at me from foot to head and came back to rest on my face.

“What was what?” I asked quickly, too quickly.

“You’re going to combust if I look at you like this? How am I looking at you, then?”

I said that out loud. Shit, I said that out loud.

My eyes widened and I felt my mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry land, “I am so sorry, sir. I just meant. I mean I. I-. Shit. Shit, I can't say shit in front of you. I’m going to stop talking and I am going to leave. Have a great day, Mr. Wolff,” I placed a foot behind me, ready to turn and run out of the office and go home. I wanted to crawl into bed and never come out.

It could've been worse. I could've said a lot worse.

“Wait,” Toto reached out and grabbed my hand.

I froze staring down at my hand in his.

What the fuck? Why is he holding my hand?

I looked back up at him and released the breath I had been holding.

“Yes, sir?” I whispered, my voice barely audible through the tightness in my throat.

“You need to stop calling me sir or I might be the one to combust,” He whispered back, equally as quiet.

What? Did I hear him right?

“Sir, you're my boss. It’s kinda the thing to call you,” I replied, confused.

“Ah, ah. I am not your boss. I do not give you directions or sign your paycheck. I already feel wrong enough, do not call me your boss and make it worse,” Toto tugged me closer, taking the gap between us from a foot to mere inches.

I gasped sharply at the movement, afraid to look away from our hands resting on his lap.

“Make what worse…sir?” I looked at him through my lashes, pulling my lip into my mouth.

He tracked every movement, his hand tightening around mine.

“You don’t want to know, dear. Somethings are better left unsaid, yeah?”

We were whispering in the quiet room as if someone nearby would hear us. As if the building wasn't empty at almost 5 o’clock the day before race weekend began.

“But what if I do? What if I want it to be said? What if I want to make things worse?” I met his eyes finally, nerves or butterflies churning in my stomach. I couldn’t tell. I don't think I cared all that much. The way he was looking at me was enough to clear any anxiety I was feeling.

“That’s a very dangerous thing to say, dear. Only say things you mean not things you’ll regret,” Toto’s eyes were hooded, as he looked at me, brushing his thumb over my hand.

“I like living on the dangerous side, Mr. Wolff,” I did not recognize the voice that came out of me.

I do not do dangerous. I don’t ever do dangerous. What am I saying?

”I told you not to call me that,” His voice had gone deep and husky and it was doing something to me that I didn’t want to admit.

“Make me, sir,” Who the fuck was she? That couldn’t have been me, no way.

Toto made a noise in the back of his throat and it sent shivers down my spine. He pulled me closer, placing one of his free hands behind my neck. I was inches from him. I could feel his breath on my skin, “I am going to kiss you now, is that okay?”

I nodded, my eyes falling shut, my head tilting up. He pressed his lips to mine and every thought left my mind. He was so gentle, nothing like I thought he would be but somehow so much better. His hand was firm behind my neck, keeping me in place. We were still holding hands and he continued rubbing his thumb over mine.

He slowly explored my mouth with his, moving his lips with mine. He lightly licked my bottom lip, requesting entrance. I opened my mouth, letting him in, begging him to take me.

The kiss deepened. He removed his hand from mine and moved it to my hip, squeezing gently and pulling me close. I was standing between his open legs, hands at my side, still in shock from what was going on.

Wait what was going on?

I pulled away, somehow, “Wait, wait, what is happening, Mr. Wolff?”

He looked at me and chuckled softly, “I am kissing you. I would like to continue to kiss you and much more if I am being honest with you, darling. Is that okay?”

”Yes but why?” It took all of me not to fall back into him but I needed to know. I couldn’t just let this man kiss me out of nowhere without some kind of explanation.

”Because you are beautiful. And you are strong. You are kind to others and very funny. You are excellent at your job and I admire you. I want to do this because I want you and I have for a long time. And I see the way you look at me. I see how red your cheeks become and the way your breath catches when I get close. I know you want this too. Am I correct, darling?” His gaze didn’t move from mine, captivating me in its intensity. He was being honest that much I could tell.

I nodded taking a shaky breath, “Yes. You’re right. I do. I really do, Mr. Wolff. I-“

He kissed me again, crashing our mouths together, an effective way of shutting me up. He tugged me to his body, his chest and mine pressed together. His hand on my waist went around to the small of my back, pulling me until our bodies were completely flush. I could feel every inch of him against me. Every inch.

I laced my fingers into his hair, moaning quietly. He bit into my bottom lip, then licked into my mouth. We stayed like that, pressed together, exploring each other for a while. I couldn’t tell how long I was lost in Toto’s embrace.

He pulled his mouth and pressed it to my ear, “What can I do to you?” He pressed a wet kiss to my neck as I took in what he said.

”Anything, sir,” I was breathless, his lips leaving flames everywhere he pressed them.

”Anything?” He asked in my ear again.

I nodded, choking on another moan.

”Lovely,” He stood from his desk and turned us around. He put his hands under my thighs and lifted me onto the desk, pushing things out of the way. Some pens and files fell to the floor and he made no move to pick them up. I placed my hands on his chest, fiddling with the buttons on his white shirt. He nodded and made a soft noise, urging me to take it off. I slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his strong shoulders. I dragged my hands down his toned chest, taking in every hard plane and soft angle.

Toto tilted my head to the side to gain better access to my neck. He continued his journey off my neck and down my shoulder, pulling the neckline out of the way to reach my skin. The hand that wasn't in my hair was fiddling with the bottom of my shirt, silently requesting me to take it off. I promptly yanked my shirt over my head and I heard him let out a low chuckle.

”What do we have here?” He asked, raking his eyes over my naked abdomen and breasts still trapped in the dark lace of my bra.

He ran his hands up my hips and sides and back down, his calloused thumbs a perfect contrast to my soft skin. His mouth was warm as he pressed his lips to my collarbone, working his way across my chest. He hovered his mouth above one of my nipples, his warm breath raising it to attention. He took it into his mouth and bit down lightly with his teeth, then licked it to soothe the sharpness. He moved his mouth to the other side, leaving a wet splotch in his wake, and did the same thing, until my breasts were aching to be set free. I arched my chest, begging him to touch me, please me, anything.

“Someone’s eager, isn’t she?” Toto’s hands were on the top of my thighs and he slowly spread them further apart.

He fell to his knees in front of me, and I stared at the top of his head in shock.

Toto Wolff, team principal of Mercedes, was on his knees in front of me kissing my thighs. What the fuck was happening?

“What are you doing, sir?” I asked, placing my hand in his hair and the other on the desk behind me.

“I plan on eating a little snack. Is that okay?” Toto looked up at me, a smirk on his swollen lips.

Holy fucking shit. He wants to eat me out. How the fuck is this happening right now?

He pulled off each of my shoes one by one, cradling my calf in his hands as he did so. Toto raised his hands to the waistband of my pants, popping the button and slowly taking down the zipper. He let his hands drift back up to the bare skin of my stomach again, gentle fingers dragging across my skin, leaving goosebumps behind. I let out another shaky moan at his touch, fisting the hair I held in my hand.

He drew his mouth down from my belly button over the open seam of my zipper. He used his hands to start shimmying my pants off of me. I lifted my hips so he could continue pulling them down and off my body. He drew a hand up my leg from my ankle to my knee to my thigh and back down. Then his mouth followed a similar path on the inside of my leg. I was in a daze, his mouth had me entranced. My breath was ragged and my hands were barely holding me up. I let out a louder moan as he licked a long strip up my center and continued kissing down my other leg. He let out a hungry growl as he did it.

I panted quietly, feeling the wetness I knew he tasted through my panties. I needed him to hurry up, “Mr. Wolff, please, sir,”

“I love when you beg for me, darling,”

I softly moaned at his words, feeling myself clench around nothing.

”Please,” I said again, reaching for him, to drag him closer to my middle.

”So needy for me,” He whispered on my inner thigh before brushing another kiss there.

He tucked a single finger into my underwear, feeling the desire gathered there. He traced his finger down my slit, gathering some of the slickness, removing it, and then sticking his finger in his mouth, maintaining eye contact the entire time, “So fucking good, baby,”

My thighs tensed around his head and he turned his head to press another kiss to my thigh. I placed a hand in his hair, tugging him forward.

He kissed me through my panties again with a breathy laugh. He placed a finger on each side of my hips, under my underwear, and tugged them off, until I was completely bare before him.

I should be nervous. I really should. But I wasn't I just needed his mouth on me as soon as possible.

Toto looked up at me again, waiting for my nod of consent.

”Please, Toto,” I said.

”Sir. You call me sir,” He pressed his mouth to my core, kissing directly onto my clit, sending a shock through my system.

”Fuck! Yes, Sir. Mr. Wolff, I need you,” I moaned loudly, my hand clenching in his hair.

Toto licked a stripe down my slit and back up, circling the little swollen bundle of nerves. He took it into his mouth, sucking lightly before releasing it and going back towards my entrance. He dipped his tongue, lapping up the pre-cum already collecting. He grabbed one of my legs and placed it over his shoulder, changing the angle and driving himself deeper into me. He moved his hand from my thigh and dragged his thumb from his tongue to my clit. His thumb pressed against the bud and worked it in circles while his tongue was moving inside of me.

The noises I was letting out were filthy. He continued his silent assault and I felt my orgasm building. He removed his mouth and pressed a kiss to the inside of my thigh. He took one long finger, inserted it in me, and curled it, immediately hitting a spot deep in me that made my hips buck in response.

Toto tsked me and lightly bit down on my thigh as his finger continued working me. He added a second finger and brought his mouth back to my clit.

”Mr. Wolff, I’m not going to last much longer,” I panted out, feeling the precipice approaching rapidly.

”Good. Come for me, darling” He curled his fingers again and took my clit between his teeth. That did me in.

My entire body tensed and I exploded on Toto’s fingers, walls clenching around him.

“That’s a good girl,” Toto purred, continuing to draw the orgasm out of me.

My body stopped shaking after a moment and he removed his fingers from inside me. He took them into his mouth and licked them clean.

I stared at him wide-eyed, breaths coming rapidly, watching him clean up. He stood and reached over his desk to grab a tissue. He patted the inside of my thighs, removing the dampness there. He reached down to the chair by his side to retrieve my panties before gently sliding them back up my legs. Neither of us had spoken yet.

He stood up and stepped between my legs, placing his hands on either side of my face.

”Are you okay?” Toto whispered, thumbs brushing my cheekbones.

I nodded and he pressed his lips to my forehead before wrapping his arms around me. We stayed there for a while, wrapped in each other.

We pulled away when I shivered as the air conditioning kicked on, realizing I was still in my panties and bra.

Toto bent to help me collect my discarded clothing and handed it to me. I pulled on my shirt and pants and tugged back on my shoes. Toto stood watching me the entire time and I glanced up to meet his gaze when I was done.

“Yes, sir?” I asked, a blush warming my cheeks.

His eyes flashed at the word choice and he shook his head, “I want to do that again soon,”

I giggled and looked down, “Okay, Mr. Wolff,”

He shook his head at me, stepped forward, and placed another kiss on my forehead.

“Mr. Wolff?” I said a moment later when he pulled away.

“Hmm?”

“We still have to make that TikTok,”

He threw his head back and laughter erupted from him, “Maybe at the paddock we can do something, yeah?”

I nodded and smiled at him, “We can make that work. I’ll draw something up for us to do,”

Toto stared at me a moment longer, “Do you want to go get dinner, darling?”

I looked at him, slightly shocked, “Dinner?”

Toto nodded and moved behind his desk to grab his things and shut down his computers.

“With me?”

“Yes of course with you. I know it’s the wrong order but I figured we could go out to eat,”

My mouth dropped open “Like a date?”

Toto looked up at me, confused at my confusion, “Yes like a date,”

I nodded slowly waiting for him to say Nevermind.

He did not.

“Okay. Well. Okay. Yeah, let me get my things then. I need to stop at my office,”

Toto grabbed his jacket and his bag and came around the front of the desk, “Let’s go then,”

He took my hand in his and started tugging me out of his office.

“Yes, sir”

#formula one #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff smut #toto wolff fanfic

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bellasbookclub · 2 months ago

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Bella's Book Club is back—with the first book of Eclipse season!! 🦢⛲🎀

We've still got 10 more days of the BBC Summer Reading Challenge, but who says we can't get an early start on our first read of Season 3? Join us on September 30th to talk Mansfield Park, quite possibly the demure-est Austen novel of all. What's a Cinderella-esque heroine with a name that's aged like milk to do when surrounded by all these hot new morally gray friends? 🌳🧺

Discord discussion: Monday 11/30 8 PM EST | Tuesday 10/01 10 AM AEST

Join the Storygraph readalong here!

Bella’s Book Club is an interactive virtual book club created by the Three Books One Plot podcast. Our monthly Discord discussions are open to all! More info here.

#september '24 book #mansfield park #jane austen #official™ announcements #booklr #bookblr #book club #bookish #bibliophile

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starsandauras · 1 year ago

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Prompt: 26: Last

FFXIV 30 Day Writing Challenge Prompt 26: Last

“What surname do you plan on using?”

Brigid blinked, lowering the wine glass she was about to drink from. The inquisitive face of the Lady Dzemael looked back at her, seemingly expecting a swift response.

It had been Aymeric’s suggestion, of course, to invite the heads of the High Houses (and any respective spouses) to her wedding ceremony. A gesture of good will, he had said, and promised that they would be on their best behavior. Brigid hadn’t been quite sure of that, but once Francel, Stephanivien, and Artoirel had offered their assistance in running herd on the nobility, she had agreed.

“Pardon?” was all she had managed, and Lady Haillenarte batted at Lady Dzemael’s arm.

“You can’t ask that of a woman so recently wedded, Trisselle!”

Brigid deeply wished for a distraction. Of any kind. Even Emmanellain coming to attempt to charm the older women would be welcome.

“It’s unusual, Avienne, for a woman to be wedded in such a way!” At least Lady Dzemael’s tone wasn’t judgmental, which Brigid had expected from the woman.

“We’ve nay spoken ‘bout it,” Brigid demurred, finally taking a sip of her wine.

“Clearly the name in higher standing is the one she should use,” Lady Durendaire finally spoke up.

“Oh but that would be her maiden name,” added Lady Haillenarte, “Being the name of the Warriors of Light. But she can’t use that.”

Wait, what?

“No, no, quite right,” agreed Lady Dzemaele, tapping her chin with a finger. “I suppose then it would have to be either Waters or Augurelt.”

“Hm, Lady Brigid Waters, or Lady Brigid Augurelt…” Lady Haillenarte looked over to Brigid, not quite sizing her up, but certainly measuring something. “Which do you think sounds best, dearie?”

Lady Durendaire nodded. “Yes, you’ll be the one carrying it with you for the rest of your life, after all.”

“Why cannae I be usin’ me maiden name?” Brigid asked, trying very very hard not to turn her reception into an international incident, and trying just as hard to remember that the women didn’t mean anything by it. For them it was simple small talk, a small detail to be ironed out for the paperwork.

The three noblewomen looked surprised, having not expected that response. “Would you want to?” asked Lady Durendaire, earning a glare from Lady Dzemael.

“Sofine!”

Did Brigid want to..? She hadn’t thought about it. Hadn’t thought about name changes at all, not all that seriously. She had said once that she would keep her name, but that had been when Cred was less than a year old, and he was five now, running around with his sister and Gaia. And it was before Urianger. Things had changed.

And Brigid wasn’t sure now how much she wanted to keep using her father’s name.

“Ah, there’s the lady of the hour!” Artoirel came only a little late to the rescue, bowing deferentially to the women. “Ladies Haillenarte, Durendaire, Dzemael, I do hope you’re enjoying the festivities?”

As the women exchanged pleasantries, Brigid had to fight the urge to throw her arms around Artoirel in a relived hug.

“I hope you’ll forgive me for stealing away the bride, but she’s needed at the high table.” He offered Brigid his arm, which she happily took. After some farewells and well wishes they walked away, and Artoirel patted her hand. “Forgive me, I was delayed.”

“‘Tis alreet,” she murmured. “Just askin’ which name I’ll be usin’.”

Artoirel hummed. “You’re always welcome to Fortemps,” he offered, with a slight smirk, and Brigid lightly batted his arm.

It was something to think on, she decided, after the honeymoon and with long discussions with her husbands. At least it wasn’t an urgent matter.

#FFXIV #FFXIVWrite #FFXIVWrite2023 #Warrior of Light: Brigid O'Donnell #The high house ladies #Artoirel de Fortemps #that moment when you have three last names to choose from #shame triple barreling isn't an option

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dankusner · 1 day ago

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One of America's First Spectator Sports Was Professional Walking

Just like today's fitness influencers, the celebrities of pedestrianism used their platforms to monetize, popularize and diversify walking.

Edward Payson Weston attempted to walk 500 miles in six days. Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper/Public domain

Walking needs no publicist.

The simplest, most accessible form of exercise has been around since humans first foraged and traveled on the ground.

But today, walking seems to have entered its influencer era.

It’s been the subject of countless viral videos, of people doing it silently, collectively, for their mental health, for their physical health, for “hot girl” reasons and, yes, even for their gastrointestinal needs.

There’s something more to these micro-trends, though, than fitness personalities looking to make a quick buck off of brand-name water bottles or $30 socks.

A new wave of fitness personalities—many of them women of color, of a variety of body types—seem to be reaching an audience who, due to numerous factors from safety to layers of systemic discrimination, have historically shied away from the leisure activity.

This is exemplified by the explosion of walking groups in the United States in recent years, with headline after headline chronicling the rise of these meet-ups across the country, which has encouraged hundreds of strangers to come together each week to exercise.

This isn’t the first time a diverse group of influencers has widened the scope for walking.

In the 1870s and 1880s, an unlikely assemblage of Americans became some of the nation’s earliest celebrities with the rise of the pedestrianism movement.

These professional walkers traversed hundreds of miles, around tracks and across state lines, to compete in one of the nation’s first spectator sports.

Though the craze was short-lived, it left behind a legacy that challenges the stereotypical face of fitness to this day.

American pedestrianism began with a fateful bet:

In 1860, the door-to-door bookseller Edward Payson Weston wagered a friend that Abraham Lincoln would lose the upcoming presidential election.

Were Lincoln to win, Weston declared, he would walk the 478 miles from his home in Boston to Washington, D.C. for the inauguration—and he would do so in under ten days.

After Lincoln won, Weston set out to make good on his promise, publicizing his itinerary in local papers along the Eastern Seaboard.

People waited for hours in the cold to watch him pass through their towns.

A run-in with a debt collector left Weston 4 hours and 12 minutes short of his goal;

Lincoln, who was following his progress along with the rest of the country, was still so impressed by the feat that he offered to pay the latecomer’s fare home.

(The press-savvy Weston demurred, seemingly knowing that the refusal would only earn him more coverage.)

Following the Civil War, Weston took his walking show on the road.

Thousands of spectators lined up to buy tickets and place bets on whether he could beat the clock. In a divided country, his walks were a unifying event.

“He’s so apolitical, and I think that helped his popularity,” Matthew Algeo, the author of Pedestrianism: When Watching People Walk Was America's Favorite Spectator Sport, told me in an interview.

“He could go anywhere and walk, and people wouldn’t object to it.”

Walking was not a popular form of exercise in the U.S. when Weston began staging his exhibitions, but he and the competitors who rose up to challenge him spread “pedestrian fever” among the public.

“A Plea for Pedestrianism,” published in the New York Times in 1878, was a typical literary endorsement of leisure walking.

The op-ed supplied readers with a sample walk they could take around Staten Island, recommended attire (“easy, yet stout laced boots with broad soles and low heels”), what to eat (“a sandwich and some hard-boiled eggs in your pockets”), and how to prepare (“Those who are not accustomed to much walking ought to practice it moderately during a week before marching a whole day in the country”).

Celebrity, long reserved for royals and political figures, was expanding—allowing pedestrians, or “peds,” to gain real influence as some of the country’s first mass-market stars.

They used their platform to promote not just the sport, but also everything from shoe brands to trading cards.

They even were the first to sell advertising space on their competition outfits.

One of the reasons pedestrianism resonated with so many, Algeo suggested, is that these athletes took an activity that was relatable—an “expression of the everyday”—and pushed it to the extreme.

The result, he said, struck people as “personal,” “genuine” and “real.”

Professional walkers reflected an array of Americans, too.

Because these walking matches were largely unregulated, there were no clear rules excluding certain groups from competition.

One of Weston’s greatest rivals was Daniel O’Leary, an Irish immigrant who became “Champion Pedestrian of the World” in 1875 after defeating Weston in a six-day race.

O’Leary took multiple athletes under his wing, including Frank Hart (born Fred Hichborn), a Haitian immigrant.

Hart became one of the sport’s great stars and winner of the second-ever O’Leary Belt in 1880, where he earned more than $21,000 total, the equivalent of two-thirds of a million in today’s dollars.

Women “pedestriennes” also made a significant impact on the sport.

At a time when conventional science held that strenuous athletic activity did lasting harm to female bodies, wiping them of their “vital energies” and their ability to reproduce, athletes like the Englishwoman Ada Anderson rose up as powerful counterexamples, showing what sportswomen were capable of.

“It is good for women to see how much a woman can endure,” Anderson told the New York Sun in 1878.

But there was a dark side to women’s pedestrianism.

The sport was largely promoted and organized by men (including one of P.T. Barnum’s own public relations people).

A majority of women came to professional walking out of desperation, to escape poverty or abusive relationships.

Then they pushed their bodies to the limit.

They did what men did—24-hour walks, 100-mile walks, six-day walks—but also attempted even more extreme stunts, like walking 3,000 quarter-miles over the course of 3,000 quarter-hours.

“This was a really tough life,” Harry Hall, author of The Pedestriennes, told me.

Women walked in hard-soled shoes, he said, because saboteurs threw rocks, tacks and glass on their track, hoping to fix race outcomes.

The same laissez-faire setup that had allowed the sport to evolve so organically also led to it becoming synonymous with exploitation and scandal.

Pedestrianism saw race fixing, early steroid use and an extortion attempt that ended with a manager’s suicide.

With the rise of bicycle racing in the 1880s, the public moved on, leaving pedestrianism to fade into a historical footnote.

“There was no way pedestrianism was going to last forever,” said Algeo.

“But it’s a shame it kind of killed itself.”

Today’s walking influencers have different aims and goals, not to mention more agency, than the stars of the sport a century and a half ago.

But both walking waves can be seen as promoting “physical activity in spaces where they’re not traditionally or not as easily done in the past,” as Damon Swift, an exercise scholar at the University of Virginia School of Education and Human Development, told me.

For those who are looking to hop on the trend today but aren’t ready to commit to a 10,000 daily step count—let alone a trek from Boston to Washington—you might find some wisdom in that 1878 Times trend story, which advised readers to “walk as long as [one] likes.”

Do just that, it promised, and you’ll return home “healthier” and “happier.”

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freelancershahin · 2 years ago

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S04:E72 The PHILLIP Show feat. Angela Michelle Martin | Tear-Stained Che...

✅ S04:E72 The PHILLIP Show feat. Angela Michelle Martin | Tear-Stained Cheeks: A 30-Day Devotional 🙏🙏 Do not forget to like, comment, subscribe, and share 🧡 💠 Angela Dennis Martin is an educator, and an author who has taken her journey - both challenges and triumphs - and shared it within the pages of this non-traditional 30-Day Devotional entitled Tear-Stained Cheeks. As a wife, mother, poet, and writer, Angela opens up about love, loss, and how to turn the corner and find your way through rough times. ON THIS EPISODE 1. Finding hope on the other side of difficult. 2. Owning your gifts, and being proud of who you are. 3. Surrounding yourself with support. GET SOCIAL 👉 Buy the Book: https://amzn.to/3pTu2bb 👉 Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/angela.gude 👉 Women of Standard FB Group: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?... 👉 For a personally signed copy, CashAPP $28 to: $dailybreadgirl ______________________________________________ 💠 The PHILLIP Show is a platform that celebrates YOU!!! From personal stories, shared ideas & inspiration, the goal of the show is to inspire by celebrating the uniqueness of individuals, brands, and businesses. Remember: You’re the best YOU in the world! #beyourself 🔶 About this more video ✅S04:E80 The PHILLIP Show Feat. Darryl Demure of Harper's Bazaar World 👉 This Video Link: https://youtu.be/l9cLZ_VPfS0 ✅ S04:E79 Time to Shine-Growing from the Inside Out with Jonathan Alicea 👉 This Video Link: https://youtu.be/64SZJ9QVs00 ✅ S04:E78 The PHILLIP Show feat. Caleab & Erica of Yikes A Band with New Music 👉 This Video Link: https://youtu.be/55SQripGSdo ✅ S04:E77 The PHILLIP Show feat. Mixed Media Artist Dylan Sage 👉 This Video Link: https://youtu.be/WafZYlS0w64 ✅ S04:E76The PHILLIP Show feat. Dara Moore and Trey's Lemonade Stand 👉 This Video Link: https://youtu.be/26jVIVTppO0 ................................................... 🌟 Follow me on the social media Account 🔶 https://www.linkedin.com/in/phillip-o... 🔶 https://www.instagram.com/philliporou... 🔶 https://web.facebook.com/philliporourke 🔶 https://www.tiktok.com/@philliporourke 🔶 https://twitter.com/philliporourke 🔶 https://philliporourke.com/ #phillip #ceo #entrepreneur #podcast #beyourself #beyou #phillip_showShow less

#youtube

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theharshlightofday · 3 years ago

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30 Days of Buffy Challenge

Day 27 - Favorite Friendship

- Buffy and Tara -

Their bond started to form after Buffy stood up for Tara to her horrible family. Then in The Body episode it truly solidifies. There’s nothing that bonds quicker than a shared understanding of grief. After Buffy is brought back to life she starts using Spike and she knows none of her other friends will be able to understand. She breaks down to Tara one night about what’s she’s doing with Spike and although I think she knows Tara well enough at this point to know she won’t persecute her for it, she in a way wants Tara to tell her how bad it is because of how bad she feels about what she’s doing. But of course Tara tells her she’s gone through a lot and it’s okay. Buffy needed that, not to make whats she’s doing okay but to know that it doesn’t make her a bad person. I love seeing Tara, who used to be so quiet and demure, call Spike out. She catches Buffy and Spike in the hallway in Older and Far Away and later while playing cards Spike makes a little comment about how there must be some late night activities that can get up to, and Tara immediately speaks up.

Tara: "How's that cramp, Spike? Still bothering you?"

Spike: "What? Oh, yeah."

Tara: "Maybe you, uh, wanna put some ice on it."

Such a great scene. I wish Tara had been there in season 7. I have a feeling the whole Buffy getting kicked out of the house thing would never have happened.

Honorable Mention: Spike and Joyce, Tara and Dawn, Xander and Willow.

#30 days of buffy #Buffy challenge #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy #btvs #Tara

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steeiydan · 2 years ago

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OC-OCTOBER/30 DAY MONSTERBOY CHALLENGE 2022 - DAY 6 - Spider

just took an older OC from 2017 and gave him a slight redesign lmao Barely any difference to before, though...

meet Cherry!

Cherry/22/Gay??BI??? Cherry is a pretty demure guy, which isn’t unusal for Arachne. His venom is extremely potent, enough to be painful for Demons and even knock weaker ones out, so a single bite could kills dozens of humans. He doesn’t really like to bite, though, he’s pretty gentle. He’s a servant to Valerian, a Demon noble, but on his own accord. It’s pretty easy work and he has a lot of time for himself. Six hands get things done faster than just two.

He’s super dextrous and can do different things with all his hands without having to think about it that much. Cherry has a passion for good food (another reason he works for Valerian, the food the servants get is really good), and he enjoys knitting and other stuff like that.

#vic's art #oc #original character #oc october #30 day monster boy challenge

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bakuliwrites · 2 years ago

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OT3 Challenge, Day 1

Hello, everyone! So, for the next month, I've decided to do this 30 day OT3 challenge. All of the prompts are from this post, here . So without further ado, here's my fan apprentice, Bakuli, and her partners, Julian and Lucio :)

Day One, Part One- First Meeting

This is pre-plague. Lucio's will come tomorrow because, as per usual, I wrote too much haha. Stay tuned and thanks for reading! Also, if you have any questions about Bakuli, feel free to ask! I am always happy to answer. I'll be posting some backstory info on her soon :)

Meeting Julian

Bakuli brings her hand to her forehead, shading her eyes from the intense sunlight above. The cobblestone beneath her feet bakes in the summer heat. She curses herself for deciding to venture out in the sweltering Vesuvian summer, but she's running low on some herbs for the shop. Luckily, there's enough of a breeze brought in from the sea to cool her as she wanders the streets.

As Bakuli weaves through the bustling crowd in the market square, the smell of Selasi's famous pumpkin bread calls to her. It's a summon that's difficult to ignore. Her mouth waters with the thought of the spicy, pillow-soft loaf, its familiar scent a comfort and a joy. It's been almost a year since Asra left Vesuvia and it's only now that Bakuli's been able to distance herself from the association between them and her favorite pumpkin bread. The scent doesn't bring back nearly as many bittersweet memories as it used to. She sighs in relief, taking this as a sign that maybe she's finally moving on from all of that heartache. Over the last few months, she's noticed things have become easier and easier. Though she misses Asra, she's felt ready to move on for a while now.

Perhaps I've earned a treat for myself, she thinks, digging through her velvet coin purse to make sure she's brought enough. She has just the right amount for a slice to enjoy while seated on one of the bridges overlooking the canals, and a loaf to take home. She slings her satchel of groceries, strong with the scent of lavender and tea tree, over her shoulder and makes her way towards the bread tent. A long line has formed, everyone eagerly awaiting the baker's coveted treats.

The line weaves in erratic waves and jagged lines. It's hard to tell where it ends. A tall man with auburn hair stands awkwardly near what looks like it could be the end of the line, but Bakuli can't quite tell. He's sifting through a coin purse, pouring the contents out into his hand and counting the gleaming gold and silver one-by-one.

"Excuse me?" Bakuli starts softly, not wanting to startle the man or sound rude. He whirls around and, as soon as he does, Bakuli feels a blush bloom across her cheeks. This stranger is quite handsome, she realizes, feeling suddenly lost for words.

"Oh! So sorry. I'm holding up the line, aren't I? Go on ahead of me," he ushers politely, his tone low and friendly.

"Oh, um. Thank you!" Bakuli manages to return, voice caught in her throat as she shuffles past the mysterious gentleman. His get-up looks most impractical in this Vesuvian heat- a long black coat, thigh high boots, and gloves to match. His grey eyes meet hers as they pass one another, tempests brewing in his irises. Bakuli glances demurely away and catches the man beaming roguishly to himself. By the looks of it, this gentleman doesn't have nearly enough to buy himself anything more than a cup or two of Selasi's coffee.

What if I- No, that would be quite bold of me, wouldn't it? Bakuli wonders to herself, glancing shyly back over her shoulder. The man frowns at the silver and gold pieces in his hand, carding his fingers through his fiery waves and closing his gloved fingers over his money.

"Afternoon, Selasi," Bakuli greets warmly as she approaches the baker. He smiles at her, already packaging up a loaf of bread for her in some parchment paper and cloth. Bakuli shoots one more look back at the tall, handsome stranger behind her. His aura is warm, like a hearth fire. There's something pleasant and charming about him, though they've hardly spoken a word to one another.

"Selasi," she whispers to the baker, eyes darting mischievously back to the man with hair the color of autumn leaves, "I'll buy his, too."

"You've got it, Miss. Bakuli," Selasi smiles, before turning to the stranger and asking, "What about you?"

The stranger looks bewildered at the question, sputtering as his cheeks turn bright red. Bakuli can hardly help the giggle that bubbles up from her throat.

"Your bread's on me!" she offers, feeling quite confident all of a sudden, "Go ahead, pick whatever you want."

"Or," she goes on, confidence giving way to fearless flirtatiousness, "If you'd like, we can share my pumpkin bread. I certainly won't be able to finish it."

The stranger seems to consider this for a moment before his face breaks out into a wide, devilish grin.

"So long as you let me buy us both some coffee," he returns with the quirk of a dark eyebrow. With this, Bakuli and this mysterious man make their way through the crowds, searching for a spot of shade to seat themselves under.

Gods, what's gotten into me? Bakuli panics, clutching her pumpkin bread close to her chest as she leads this complete stranger off to somewhere quieter, What if he's a creep? Or worse yet, a murderer??? What am I doing? Too late now. At least we're in public. He can't murder me in the middle of a market, right?

Bakuli gestures to a grouping of boxes where she and the stranger settle in for what promises to be an awkward meal. She's feeling rather stupid at the moment.

That's what boldness gets you, I suppose, she frets to herself as she unwraps her loaf of bread and offers some up to this auburn-haired rogue. He graciously accepts a slice and passes her a cup of steaming hot coffee, an odd choice for a blazing summer's day.

As she sips quietly at her drink, Bakuli eyes the stranger curiously. She doesn't sense anything unsavory from him, and her gut is usually quite trustworthy. Still, her enthusiasm to make a new friend (Let's be real here, you were flirting, she points out to herself) is somewhat mortifying. What the hell is she supposed to talk about with him???

"Selasi has the best bread in Vesuvia," she blurts, unsure of what else to say. She chastises herself for making such an inane comment.

"Well, I've not tried all the bread in Vesuvia just yet, so I'll have to take your word for it," the stranger winks, taking her commentary well rather than remaining silent like she had feared he would. Heat returns to Bakuli's cheeks.

He's suave and he knows it, she notes, letting the rich spices of her favorite pumpkin bread dance across her tongue. The stranger hums in satisfaction as he takes a bite of his slice, commenting on how this is, indeed, the best bread he's ever eaten.

"So, I take it you're not from around here?" Bakuli inquires, eyes searching this stranger's form.

"No, I'm merely a curious traveler," he returns, leaning back on the boxes in an attempt to look nonchalant. His hand misses the back edge of the box, causing him to slip a bit, but he quickly corrects himself, passing Bakuli a goofy and endearing smile.

"And what's a curious traveler such as yourself doing in a plague ridden city like this?" Bakuli manages through a chuckle.

"Well," the stranger begins, looking contemplatively off in the distance, "I'm a doctor! And doctor's follow sickness, don't they?"

Bakuli glances at him suspiciously. His logic seems somewhat sound, but there's something more to this man than just the life of a simple physician. There's sorrow in his eyes and a thrum of wildness in his heart.

"What's your name, traveling doctor?" Bakuli questions, passing him a coy grin before taking another sip of her coffee. It bursts on her tongue, pleasantly bitter and delightfully acrid. There's a spark, a flicker of light that passes between her and this stranger.

"The name's Ilya," the stranger breathes, extending a gloved hand for Bakuli to shake, "Ilya Devorak. I also go by, 'Julian,' if you'd rather."

Bakuli takes his hand firmly in hers.

"Bakuli," she returns, beaming softly, "Bakuli Björnsdottir. It's a pleasure to meet you, Ilya."

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 years ago

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The months leading up to Nov. 3, 2020 were, for Donald Trump, almost a carbon copy of what he did in advance of the presidential election four years previously: He thumbed tweets, whined at his rallies and complained to anyone who would listen that the election had been “rigged” by Democrats. Of course, after election eve 2016, we never heard another peep out of him about the dastardly Democrats and the wily ways they had rigged the election against him, because he won.

But from the moment that his network of pet poodles at Fox News called Arizona for Joe Biden in November of 2020, causing a series of eruptions in the private quarters at the White House, culminated in a call to Fox executives to demand that the network reverse its Arizona projection, Trump understood that this time it would be different. He would lose.

Trump turned immediately to the courts, filing more than 60 federal lawsuits in the battleground states he lost claiming that the election had been “stolen” from him. But as one case after another went down to defeat or outright dismissal, he turned to loyalist loons like former general Michael Flynn, online conspiracy theorist Alex Jones, former White House adviser Sebastian Gorka, My Pillow guy Mike Lindell and — wait for it — the Proud Boys to push his obsession that he hadn’t lost, and that the election had been rigged by nefarious forces.

See if this doesn’t sound familiar. On Dec. 12, several thousand pro-Trump demonstrators showed up in Washington for at least two rallies, one on the Mall and the other on the steps of the Supreme Court, to protest its decision the previous day to throw out a lawsuit filed by the attorney general of Texas seeking to bar the states of Georgia, Michigan, Wisconsin and Pennsylvania from casting their electoral ballots for Biden. The court issued a brief unsigned order on Dec. 11 saying that Texas had no “interest in the manner in which another state conducts its elections” and dismissed the lawsuit. A few days earlier, the court had dismissed another suit filed by Pennsylvania Republicans seeking to throw out that state’s Biden electors, thus disenfranchising millions of voters.

Trump was watching closely. With Proud Boys marching through downtown Washington in mock-military formations shouting “Move out!” and “1776!” Trump tweeted "Wow! Thousands of people forming in Washington (D.C.) for Stop the Steal. Didn’t know about this, but I’ll be seeing them! #MAGA." A bit later, he tweeted, “WE HAVE JUST BEGUN TO FIGHT!!!"

He must have liked what he saw on the streets of the nation’s capital that Saturday, because seven days later, on Dec. 19, Trump was tweeting “Big protest in D.C. on January 6th. Be there, will be wild!" The next week, on Dec. 26, he tweeted "The ‘Justice’ Department and the FBI have done nothing about the 2020 Presidential Election Voter Fraud, the biggest SCAM in our nation’s history, despite overwhelming evidence. They should be ashamed. History will remember. Never give up. See everyone in D.C. on January 6th."

After seven hours of testimony before the Senate Judiciary Committee last Saturday by former acting Attorney General Jeffrey Rosen, and five hours of testimony before the same committee on Friday by Rosen’s former acting deputy, Richard Donoghue, we now know that behind the scenes, Trump was very busy.

On Dec. 15, the day after Bill Barr announced that he would be leaving his post as attorney general, Trump summoned Rosen to the Oval Office and told him he wanted the DOJ to file legal briefs supporting the lawsuits he had not yet lost challenging election results in battleground states. He demanded that Rosen appoint special counsels to investigate Dominion Voting Systems, which had provided voting machines in multiple states. Rosen demurred, citing what Barr had already reported to Trump, which was that the DOJ had investigated his charges and had found no evidence of widespread or significant voter fraud.

Rosen told the Judiciary Committee that Trump called him almost daily trying to get him to have the Department of Justice declare that the presidential election was “corrupt” and announce that the department was initiating investigations of “election irregularities” in multiple states, including Georgia, Nevada, Arizona, Pennsylvania, Michigan and Wisconsin — all states Trump had lost narrowly to Biden.

Rosen continued to defer and delay on the phone, and Trump started talking with the acting head of the DOJ’s civil division, Jeffrey Clark, who was more amenable to Trump’s conspiracies. Rosen described to the Judiciary Committee five separate “encounters” with Clark over his plotting behind Rosen’s back with Trump, all of which took place between Dec. 23 and Jan. 3.

Trump became fixated on his narrow defeat in Georgia, placed a now-famous phone call to Gov. Brian Kemp on Dec. 5, trying to get him to pressure the state legislature to overturn Biden’s victory in the state. Kemp deflected, telling him that he had no power to call for investigations into signatures on absentee ballots or any of the other things Trump was urging him to do.

On Dec. 27, at Trump’s urging, Clark produced a letter dated the following day he wanted Rosen and Donoghue to sign. Aware that the governor of Georgia had rejected Trump’s entreaties, Clark’s letter amounted to a DOJ legal analysis that the state legislature could call itself into session without the governor’s authority, reject the electors pledged to Joe Biden and appoint its own slate of Trump electors. “Time is of the essence,” the Clark letter pleaded, because Congress would convene in joint session to certify the election on Jan. 6.

Rosen and Donoghue refused to sign the letter, telling Clark “this is not even within the realm of possibility.”

That didn’t end it. Clark apparently demanded a meeting with Rosen and Donohue, which took place at the DOJ on New Year’s Eve. Clark told them Trump was planning on firing Rosen and replacing him with Clark so he could carry out his plan to manipulate the Georgia legislature into appointing a new slate of Trump electors. Clark told his two bosses that he was meeting with Trump the next week to carry this out.

Instead, Clark met with Trump a day later and showed him the letter, discussing their plan for a Trumpian “Saturday Night Massacre.” Rosen and Donoghue demanded a meeting with Trump, at which they planned on telling him that the entire senior leadership of the Justice Department would resign en masse if Trump appointed Clark as acting attorney general.

Before that meeting took place, news emerged that Trump had placed a lengthy call to the Georgia secretary of state, Brad Raffensperger, demanding that the latter “find” enough votes to overturn the election results in his state. “I just want to find 11,780 votes, which is one more than we have,” Trump said, according to a tape of the call obtained by the Washington Post.

The Oval Office meeting between Trump, Rosen, Donoghue and Clark went on the next evening, attended by White House counsel Pat Cipollone, who advised the president not to fire Rosen because such a move would trigger congressional investigations and distract from Trump’s attempts to overturn the election. After three hours, the meeting broke up, with Rosen and Donoghue still in their jobs.

Rosen and Donoghue told the Senate Judiciary Committee that with only 17 days remaining until the presidential inauguration, they believed they had avoided a constitutional crisis. But we all know what happened three days later, on Jan. 6, when a violent mob of Trump supporters breached the Capitol building and delayed for several hours the certification of the electoral ballots which made Joe Biden president.

Between the early hours of Nov. 4, when Trump first realized he had lost the election, and Jan. 6, when the assault on the Capitol dominated every news cycle until the inauguration (and beyond), Trump was all over the place in his attempts to overturn the election. He was consumed with the lawsuits being filed around the country on his behalf — but was losing them, one after another. He was obsessed with following conspiracy theories about Biden ballots being carried by Special Forces soldiers from Germany and stuffed into ballot boxes in battleground states, about mysterious computers and satellites controlled by Italy switching Biden votes for Trump votes in battleground states, and multiple other outlandish conspiracies.

But beginning on Dec. 12, with the Proud Boys march through Washington and the demonstrations on the Mall and at the Supreme Court, Trump became fixated on holding a rally on Jan. 6 that he believed could prevent the certification of electoral ballots taking place that day. Two days later, he began his campaign to get the Department of Justice to join his plan to pressure state legislatures in a handful of states he had lost to throw out Biden electors and appoint their own slates of Trump electors.

He tweeted on Dec. 19, 26, 27 and 30, all dates coinciding with his pressure on Rosen and Donoghue to use the Department of Justice to help him overturn the election. On Jan. 1, the day he met with Jeffrey Clark to discuss firing Rosen, he tweeted “The BIG Protest Rally in Washington, D.C. will take place at 11:00 A.M. on January 6th. Locational details to follow. StopTheSteal!” On Jan. 4, Trump traveled to Georgia to hold a rally, nominally in support of the two Republican candidates in the U.S. Senate runoff election, but really to put pressure on Georgia legislators to overturn the election.

Practically every move Trump made in December and January in advance of Jan. 6 was a crime. Pressuring Jeffrey Rosen to misuse the Department of Justice to support his private lawsuits was a crime. Conspiring with Jeffrey Clark to fire Rosen so Clark could send the letter to the Georgia legislature was a crime. Calling Brad Raffensperger and Brian Kemp and pressuring them to “find” votes and use the legislature to overturn the election was a crime. Meeting with his own White House staff and outside advisers to plan the rally on the Ellipse at which he would incite the assault on the Capitol was a crime.

Trump’s problem, to put it frankly, was that he didn’t start committing crimes early enough. The crimes he committed in December and January were largely impulsive, not carefully planned or focused. He exploded with tweets and phone calls and meetings and rallies.

In short, Trump was Trump, as incompetent a criminal conspirator as he was a president. The only question left to be answered at this point is whether Merrick Garland and the Biden Department of Justice will have the courage to charge him and his co-conspirators with the felonies they committed: defrauding the United States by attempting to illegally influence the outcome of the 2020 election.

If that crime sounds familiar, that is because it is the same one special counsel Robert Mueller charged 24 Russian nationals with committing in 2016, when they illegally hacked into Democratic National Committee servers, stole campaign emails and set up fake accounts to influence voters on American social media platforms. With Donald Trump, nothing is ever new. Just watch him. He’s out there right now raising $100 million to do it all over again in 2024. And the entire Republican Party is right there with him.

[This is my special Wednesday Salon column. It is open to all subscribers.]

LucianTruscott Newsletter

#newsletter #political #corrupt GOP #criminal GOP #Lucian Truscott #Lucian K Truscott IV #January 6 2021

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rebellenotes · 2 months ago

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DAY 2 LOG: rebelle's 30 day DEMURE glow-up challenge ♡₊ ⊹

okay so today has been an ANXIETY FILLED DAY!!!! so i didnt do EVERYTHING on my list but i did most of it so im happy :3

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takingcourage · 4 years ago

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The Best of the Best

Pairing: M!Cassian x MC

Word Count: 2,950

Summary: Kellen decides it’s high time to treat Cassian to some of the finer things in life.

Note: This is one of those fics that’s no longer relevant to the plot, but has been taking up space in my drafts for ages and needs to be booted out for the sake of my sanity. I guess it’s set somewhere before chapter 12? Regardless, it features some backstory and a more gradual recognition of feelings than the one we got in canon.

Craning his neck, Cassian tried to catch a glimpse his of collar in the bathroom mirror. Still brushing his teeth with his right hand, he snaked his left behind him to smooth the wrinkle that bent the structured band. His hair would likely disguise any such imperfections, but that didn’t matter. It was the principle of the thing.

This was the first evening he and Kellen had gone out since their arrival in Nantucket, and he wasn’t going to do it halfway.

He completed a final lap across his teeth and spit into the sink. Once finished, he rinsed off the brush and laid it in his toiletry bag. Drawing back his hand, his eyes rolled toward the ceiling. The footsteps coming from the bedroom had become sharper -- more pronounced.

Kellen had put on her shoes.

It won’t be long now, he reasoned, taking one last look at his appearance in the bathroom mirror. His hair still looked a little windblown from the hours he’d spent working on the outside of the cottage, but the helmet would soon negate any efforts he made to improve it. He made a note to double-check his teeth, then realized his mouth was already open from smiling.

It wasn’t the first time something similar had happened over the last few weeks. Living with Kellen had been more enjoyable than even his wildest expectations might have predicted.

Cassian heard the click of heels on the stairs seconds before she appeared in the open doorway.

“Please ignore the fact that you’ve already seen me in this dress. If we were back in Boston, I’d have a whole closet of them to pick from, but, you know...”

He couldn’t help laughing at her nonchalant shrug. “This one suits you. You could wear it every day and you’d never hear me complain. You look gorgeous.”

It had been over a month since they’d locked eyes on that rooftop in Boston, but he still had to do a double take every once in a while. Tonight, with her dark berry lipstick and her hair styled into a low bun, Kellen was positively enchanting.

She dressed up for me.

He knew it wasn’t quite true, but that didn’t stop the pleasure from swelling his chest at the notion. For the thousandth time in the last five weeks, he tried to censure himself -- an increasingly difficult task where she was concerned.

“You're making me feel underdressed, if I’m honest,” he continued, hoping his mind would accompany the words instead of remaining stuck on her appearance. “What is this about, anyway?”

“You look perfect.” She pinched the point of his collar between her fingers and gave him an appreciative once over. “And I’m taking you out to dinner: that’s all you need to know,” she challenged, sapphire eyes blazing.

Cassian’s mouth went dry as she released her hold. “Have you forgotten that I’ll be the one driving us to this surprise? I’ll need to know eventually.”

“I’ll give you directions as we go. It’ll be more fun.”

Forehead against the doorjamb, he let out a groan of apprehension. “I thought we decided you weren’t going to do that again.” Her methods of giving directions from the back of a Vespa were very...creative.

“I’ll keep my hands to myself this time.”

A quiet cough was enough to call her bluff.

“Mostly.”

“That’s what I thought.”

She answered the accusation with a cheeky smile before her eyes fell on the stovetop clock. “Our reservation is for 6:30. We’d better get moving.”

Slipping the keys from his pocket, he motioned toward the door. “I’ll follow you,” he promised, resigning himself to a very long ride into town.

_____

“What is this really about?” He asked a second time, some half-hour later. Leaning back in his chair, he tried to perform a scan of the restaurant’s other occupants, but his eyes kept landing back on Kellen.

Candlelight danced on her skin as she pondered his question. If he hadn’t been so intent on hearing her response, he could have easily become lost in the sight of her. The beauty mark on her collarbone, the way the light caught on the dainty line of her chin, the flush of pink still on her cheeks from the ride over... He watched the shadow cross her perfect lips as they parted to answer.

“Breaking up the monotony. Testing some of Nantucket’s best food. Showing you the finer things in life.”

“Ah.” He wasn’t sure the answer had told him any more than he’d already known.

Whatever her intentions, this definitely wasn’t a date -- even if instinct kept trying to tell him otherwise. The lines between his conduct were so blurred that even he couldn’t guess his true motivations. Holding open doors, pulling out chairs -- they were things he’d done for the sake of courtesy since he was a child. But here with Kellen, he knew that more than politeness was driving his actions.

But Cassian wasn’t going to bring that up in conversation. Instead, he inclined a brow. “No fish ’n’ chips, then?”

“Have you looked at the menu?”

He had, but he made a show of perusing it a second time. There were dishes he’d only vaguely heard of, most of them paired with prices that seemed anything but reasonable.

“It’s restaurant week,” she reminded. “That means the food is affordable and there are a lot of people for us to blend in with,” she told him in undertones, as though sensing his worry.

“You could never blend in, Kellen.”

The woman demurred, taking a sip of her wine to hide her smile. When she replaced the glass, she crooked a finger to draw him close. “The low light helps. It’s one of the reasons I picked this restaurant,” she confided in a half-whisper.

Cassian pulled away with a proud grin. Kellen was getting savvier all the time. It should have come as little surprise, given how she’d excelled at anything else she put her mind to. But for whatever reason, it had taken far longer for caution to become second nature.

She caught his eye and flashed a subtle wink.”Told you I’d thought this through.”

“I’m sure not going to complain. You know how I feel about candles.”

Her gaze narrowed before darting back down to the menu. Clearing his throat, Cassian let his own eyes pause on her for a moment longer. From the gentle motion of her jaw, he could tell that she was rolling her tongue between her teeth -- something she only did on the rare occasions when she held back her words.

Did I say something wrong? he wondered, reaching for a sip from his water glass. After weeks of living together, they were well accustomed to each other’s teasing. She knew his tendency to turn things more serious, and he knew her default to deflect. He usually tried to tread lightly, but she was smart enough to tell that there was more to his comment than flirtation.

As she batted her lashes and met his eyes again, the telltale spark had returned. “Anything look good?” she inquired, tracing the edge of her booklet. From the coquettish incline of her brow, it was clear she was referring to more than just the food.

“All of it,” he answered truthfully, biting back an oath when the words came out sounding more sincere than playful.

Tonight isn’t a date. And whatever this is with Kellen isn’t serious. She’s not interested.

Although she said nothing in return, the sensation of her dainty foot coming to rest at his ankle was almost enough to make Cassian lose his composure. Her touch, that act of reaching toward him without flirtation, called his certainty into question.

Maybe she was more interested than he’d given her credit for.

“Kellen,” he whispered, one hand slipping under the table in a vain attempt to find her skin. If he touched her back, perhaps the moment would become real.

“Can I answer any questions about the menu?”

The waiter reappeared just as Cassian’s finger brushed the inside of her thigh. Swallowing back his disappointment, he pasted a grin and relaxed against the splat of the chair.

Kellen straightened in her seat and began listing her order. From all Cassian could tell, she was unfazed -- as comfortable and self-assured as he’d ever seen her.

Surely he’d been imagining things after all.

_____

The sun had just started to set by the time they finished dining, and the balmy breeze from the water was all the encouragement Kellen needed to suggest a post-dinner stroll.

“So, what’d you think?”

Cassian cut his steps short to match her stride. He was so used to her power walking that this leisurely pace took a bit of adjustment. “It was all very tasty.”

“Good. It was so nice to be able to go out. I’ve missed it, you know?”

“Thanks again for bringing me along.”

“We go everywhere together, remember? Besides, who else would I bring all the way out here?”

She was still a couple of steps behind him, but his ears picked up on the catch in the laughter that followed her words. For someone who usually exuded confidence, the slip was noticeable. Is she nervous? He mulled over the question for a moment before dismissing it as nostalgia for her old way of life.

Coming to the edge of the railing, Kellen cocked her head toward him before casting her eyes on the water below. There was an almost imperceptible pause between the release of her breath and the moment she started speaking. “So...I might have lied earlier.”

“About the risotto being better than the gnocchi?” He caught up to her, propping his forearms on top of the well-worn wood.

She nudged him with an elbow. “No, I don’t lie about food--especially when mushrooms are involved. That risotto was amazing. But I wasn’t completely honest about why I brought you out here.”

Eyes locked on the rolling tide, she explained further. “I know I haven’t been the easiest person to live with over the last several weeks. There have been a lot of times that I’ve made your life harder than it needs to be, and I’m sorry for that.”

Cassian opened his mouth to insist that the confession was unnecessary, but her fingers curled around his wrist. “Don’t argue. I know I have. And I don’t apologize very often, so you’d better not mess this up for me.”

Realizing the sincerity of her threat, his breath stumbled out over a half-serious laugh. He gently pulled his arm from her grasp and turned his hand to clutch her fingers. “I won’t.”

“Thanks.” Though she inched nearer, her eyes stared far ahead. “Clearly, you deserve a lot more than one fancy dinner as an apology, but I’m working with limited resources right now and it’s the best I can do. Will you forgive me?”

His forehead lifted slightly with his initial surprise, though further consideration left him feeling foolish. It was true that the woman he’d met on the rooftop a month before would never have apologized for anything, but this woman? She’d changed significantly over the past few weeks.

This Kellen was willing to admit when she was wrong.

This Kellen was choosing to make herself vulnerable. With him.

As his pulse beat a deafening tattoo, he wondered how she’d respond if he hoisted her onto the railing and kissed her senseless. Whether she knew it or not, it would hardly be the first time he’d kissed her with more affection than lust. Still, taking that kind of action meant he risked disrupting this moment.

Feeling the gentle course her thumb was charting over the back of his hand, he realized he’d been too distracted to answer her question. “All’s forgiven,” he assured quickly. “Besides, I’ve had a better time with you this last month than I’ve had with anyone in ages.”

“Of course you have. I’m excellent company.”

Her confidence was coming back, and it spurred his own bravery: potent and perhaps a little foolhardy. “While we’re on the subject...” he began, forging ahead before he could think better of it. “Would you let me take you out once we’re back in Boston? There’s a pub in Allston that I used to go to at least once a week. I know it’s not exactly what you’re used to, but everyone says their fried mushrooms are to die for.”

“I’d love that.”

Cassian hoped she couldn’t feel the goosebumps that sprouted across his skin at her immediate response.

She didn’t even have to hesitate.

“I’m not making any assumptions,” he continued, trying not to get ahead of himself. Just because she was willing to let him return the favor of buying her dinner didn’t mean that they’d remain a regular part of each other’s lives. “I understand if I’m not what you’re looking for in...”

He didn’t have to finish the thought. Kellen met his eyes briefly, but soon glanced away. “I haven’t been looking for anything,” she admitted. “Not really, anyway. Just some fun.”

”You’re a whole lot of things beside fun, Kellen.” Pulling her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Cassian was almost certain he imagined the quiet hum as she sighed out her next breath.

“I know. But most men aren’t like you.” The statement was matter of fact, and the low timbre of her voice was enough to tell him that experience had been her teacher.

His dark brows plummeted. “How do you mean?”

“Responsible. Genuine. Interested in taking care of others.”

“You’ve been hurt in the past.” His skin heated at the thought, erasing the chill bumps on his arms. Thinking of anyone taking advantage of Kellen was enough to boil his blood.

“Who hasn’t?”

“But hurt enough that it’s put you off love completely.”

“Between that and the crazy work hours, yeah. Relationships haven’t been a priority.” She picked at a splinter in the wood grain before rubbing it smooth with the pad of her thumb. “Guess that’s what happens when you waste two years of your life being used by someone who doesn’t even love you back.”

He didn’t want to pry, but he was happy to listen for as long as she wanted to talk. Avoiding any additional leading statements, he ultimately settled on a neutral apology. “That’s awful, Kellen. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“It’s not like it’s your fault.” She took her hand from his loosened grip, but she didn’t move away. Still close beside him, the fine hairs of her arm tickled his skin. “Blame my boyfriend from undergrad. He was more interested in getting a position in my dad’s company than he was in being with me. Once he had the job he wanted, he didn’t need me anymore.”

“And your dad?”

Kellen tensed. “He told me it was “just business” and that I needed to stop taking it personally. I haven’t wanted anything to do with either of them since.”

“It’s their loss -- truly.” Though he sought her eyes, they were obstinately trained on the pattern of wood beneath her fingertips. Cassian linked a pinky with hers instead, hoping that she’d take the motion as proof of his convictions. “You’re one of the most amazing--”

"Sorry!” She gasped out in apology, pulling her hand away and cutting him short. “Tonight was supposed to be about treating you to something nice -- not using you for therapy. It’s just really easy to talk to you, and tonight has got me thinking about a lot of things.”

Kellen wove her hand through the crook of his elbow, pulling close enough to rest her cheek on his shoulder. “And I’m glad you said what you did about the pub. After everything we’ve been through, I can’t imagine not seeing you once we’re back in Boston. You’re the best of the best, Cassian.”

Her words were quiet, spoken more to the bay than to him, but they were still enough to make his heart sputter. Whether or not Kellen remembered, she’d used a similar phrase on the night they’d met. Did the compliment mean what he hoped?

He wasn’t sure he could bring himself to ask. “I’d miss ya far too much,” he told her truthfully, quashing down the disappointment he felt at his own cowardice.

“We can’t have that, can we?”

“No, we can’t.”

Her scent wove together with the salt of the sea and the earthy must coming from the wood beneath them. The soothing combination was a perfect blend of all the things he’d soon exchange for the teeming streets of Boston.

But certain as Cassian was that he could live without the endless whisper of the waves or the tang that lingered on his tongue with every breath, he was beginning to doubt that he could go on without her. Taking full advantage of Kellen’s nearness, he brushed his lips over the shell of her ear.

“Once we’re back in Boston, you can see me as often as you want.”

At his arm, her cheek tightened with the curve of her smile. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

_____

Later, as he drove them home with the stars overhead and Kellen’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist, he took stock of the night’s events.

Tonight hadn’t been a date.

It hadn’t answered all of the questions he had about their future.

The evening certainly hadn’t ended with a confession of feelings, but the confirmation that she wanted him in her life once they’d left Nantucket behind? That was enough for now.

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #witness: a bodyguard romance #cassian keane #cassian x mc

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virtchandmoir · 5 years ago

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Tessa Virtue steps off the ice and into kinky boots, among other worthwhile endeavours

November 16, 2019

There’s Tessa Virtue. And whoa, gobsmacking, there’s Vicky Vice.

The alter ego will come as a shock to many who have watched Canada’s ice dancing sweetheart transform over the years. From the demure Tessa of Gibson Girl days — her debut silver medal at the 2008 worlds in Gothenburg with Scott Moir, a feathery rendition of “Umbrellas of Cherbourg” that knocked judges for a loop — to the dynamically athletic Tessa of Vancouver Olympics gold (The Goose lift), to the mature and sensuous Tessa of “Roxanne” and “Carmen” and finally “Moulin Rouge’’ — Games gold times two in Pyeongchang.

But wet-look black latex pencil skirt, cleavage-squeezing bustier, leather gloves and ankle boots, with drag queen makeup, pulling on a rope, suggestive of a dominatrix — that’s breaking kinky new ground.

With a simple “Hold on tight’’ caption, the spread sprang from the imagination of Toronto-based photographer Nikki Ormerod.

The new and emboldened Tessa‚ unshackled as her skating career winds to a close on Rock the Rink, a 27-city cross-Canadian tour with Moir — was game.

“I was thinking about the opposite of virtue,” Virtue explains down the phone line. “Sometimes when we were performing, I’d channel her. You know, how Beyoncé has Sasha Fierce?”

While there is poignancy to this stage in Virtue’s career — she and Moir have announced that’s it, not even any more shows after the tour concludes in St. John’s on Nov. 23 (“though never say never”) — she’s also excited about whatever comes next. The possibilities are endless.

Since the couple retired from competition, Virtue has been everywhere: magazine covers, talk shows, TV commercials promoting this product and that. Which is as it should be, translating on-ice success — three Olympic medals, four world championship golds (one junior), eight senior Canadian titles, 55 international medals — to off-ice fortune.

At 30 years old, she’s earned it. Although, it’s unsettling that Virtue will now be forever partitioned from Moir. Twenty-two years together, most decorated Olympics figure skaters in history.

We all pined for the romance they invoked on the ice to be real. Lord knows they faked it good, that deep, intimate connection, if always making it clear that no, they weren’t a couple away from the rink. Moir, in fact, is engaged to marry next summer. But what will they be to each other now and in the future unfolding?

“The more important factor that will shift for us is just the fact that we won’t be skating together,” Virtue explains. “We’ve been through everything together, partners included. But it’s a really neat time for us. After this long, sharing such a singular focus and common goal, it’s fun to support one another as we launch ourselves forward and into other projects that are closely aligned with our values and close to our hearts, respectively.

“I can’t wait to watch him flourish in whatever he takes on next. We’ll always be there for each other. We’ll always be a part of each other’s lives. I think it will just be a natural evolution of a beautiful friendship. Taking the skating element out of it will allow some freedom for us to relish the beautiful friendship we’ve created. Now we get to reap those benefits of really just being in one another’s corner, supporting each other from the sidelines every step of the way.’’

Virtue is picking her projects carefully. This past week, it was announced that she and Benoit Huot have signed on to a joint partnership between the Canadian Olympic Committee and the Canadian Paralympic and Classroom Champions. Teach Canada Champion Chats, in the 2019-20 school year, is a nationwide program designed to empower students, with a focus on mentoring, achieving goals, embracing challenges — in or out of sports — mental wellness, diversity and inclusion, via virtual live chats.

“What’s so beautiful about this is, it’s taking the lessons we’ve learned in sport as athletes and really creating a personal connection with students who wouldn’t otherwise get to learn about those experiences, and help them apply it to their lives,’’ says Virtue. “It’s so cool … We’ve been able to learn so many unique things that are so applicable to every facet of life, especially when it comes to kids who just don’t have access to those kinds of resources, physical activity and sport.”

So many hours to fill that used to be spent at the rink, training daily or rehabbing from injury, which has been a theme for Virtue more than Moir, including surgery to her shins and calves.

And she’s still coming to terms with the absence of competition, the thrill and stress of performing for judges.

“We’re competitors by nature,’’ says Virtue, of herself and Moir. “We inherently miss that fire that comes with striving to be the best. The biggest challenge has been taking off that perfectionist hat and putting on an entertainer hat. Realizing that entertainment, in a broad view, is so different than what we’d been striving for, for 22 years, which was perfection in four minutes. Which doesn’t exist anyway.’’

The tour has been a farewell and a mutual thank you for all the skates, all the medals, all the adoring audiences. “Letting that percolate, digesting it, that this is the end of something really beautiful and we’re able to savour it every single night. I just feel so fortunate. Every night, I’m very cognizant of the fact that we’re able to walk away exactly on our own terms. The programs that we want to do in the way that we’ve dreamed of doing, and in a way that really feels like it does justice to the career and the partnership that we’ve had.”

Without the fussy rules that have historically stifled ice dancing. Though Moir and Virtue, with their signature athleticism and artistry, always found a way to punch through boundaries.

Without Moir and Virtue, without Patrick Chan, without Meagan Duhamel and Eric Radford, without Kaetlyn Osmond — all formally retired from the sport since Pyeongchang — the figure skating landscape looks rather bleak in Canada. They dominated for so long.

“It will be tough to follow this generation,” Virtue reluctantly admits. “But if we’ve done our jobs, then it won’t be too long until there are some shining superstars in Canada. But yeah, it’s a tough changing of the guard.”

Unlike Moir, Virtue has no interest in coaching, at least not yet. With a psychology degree under his belt, she plans to pursue an MBA at Queen’s University starting next fall. She’s also keenly drawn to an entrepreneurial career. Virtue is already quite the businesswoman, working with sponsors since the Vancouver Games. “I’ve always had a passion for business. I’ve been fortunate to have been exposed to so many facets of the business world. And I’m used to being my own boss as an athlete.

“We were sort of CEOs of our career.”

—The Star

#tessa #off ice #tour #rtr 2019 #interview: the star #one #never say never #smartest answer imo #two #at least not yet #what tessa said versus what the journalist interpreted #kind of important here #(but we'll never know)

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starsandauras · 2 years ago

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Prompt 1: Cross

FFXIV 30 Day Writing Challenge Prompt 1: Cross

Brigid sighed, shaking her head as she wrung out the gray fabric in her hands. “You’re bein’ lucky I was havin’ towels in me pack, you’re knowin’,” she called over her shoulder, towards the small copse of trees Thancred stood near. The hyur’s arms were crossed over his chest and he kept an eye on both Brigid and something rustling in the trees. Thancred had shed his longcoat, which sat next to Brigid, but he was still dripping water from his hems, squeezing water out of his hair with a towel. Said long coat was patiently waiting its turn to be wrung out.

“‘Tis fortunate I am,” called out a voice from the trees, as though resigned to the fact that it was getting a lecture and already agreeing with everything that would be said. After a moment the trees rustled more and out stepped Urianger, a second towel wrapped around his waist, hair mussed in a way that made it clear he had recently dried it. Thancred reached out to run his fingers through it, then traced the back of a finger along Urianger’s jaw fondly, the other man leaning into it for a moment.

“I don’t think she’ll go too hard on you,” he said with a teasing grin, before stepping into the trees as well, ready to remove the worst of the wet.

Urianger sighed softly before going to sit next to Brigid, watching as she squeezed out the last of the water from his robes. “You’re also bein’ lucky I’m havin’ fine ‘nough control to be dryin’ clothes and nay burnin’ them,” she grumbled. She shifted slightly, leaning back as she snapped the robe out in front of her, the damp fabric quickly losing any remaining moisture it had previously. “You’re goin’ to be dealin’ with wrinkles though.”

“Nay the least punishment I deserve,” he demurred, taking the robe from her and quickly dressing, pulling the towel off at the last moment, for decency’s sake. Once done he took Brigid’s hand and kissed the back of it, turning so she could reconnect the chain up his back for him. “I humbly beg thy forgiveness,” he murmured as he turned back to her, and was gratified to see her pout slightly.

“Dinnae e’er do that ‘gain, I’ll be happy,” she grumbled, moving on to Thancred’s coat, wringing the water out as well. “And you’ll be takin’ swimmin’ lessons. Lovin’ two La Nosceans and nay havin’ any idea how to swim, they nay teachin’ you lot basic life skills in Sharlayan?”

It was an anger borne of worry, Urianger could tell. Brigid was a woman prone to anger at times, and after many long years he had picked up on the patterns, to tell fear and rage apart. “As my Lady Alisaie hath complained on many occasion,” he agreed.

Thancred returned from the treeline, wearing still damp shorts (and nothing else) with the towel draped around his neck, shirt and pants held in a hand. “Even Cred can swim,” he added, settling down on Brigid’s other side, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Maybe he should teach you.”

And then Brigid grinned, wide and sharp, and a slight icicle of fear formed in Urianger’s gut. “Oh aye,” she said, bright and far too pleased, “be makin’ him happy, to be teachin’ Papa and Uncle A’fino how to swim.”

Despite the time that had passed on the First, Cred was still the toddler left behind on the Source. It rather pained him to think of humiliating himself in front of his son so soon after the child proclaimed him Papa. And whoever supervised the three of them in the process.

“I should like nothing more,” Urianger agreed, knowing this would be his full punishment for his risky behavior, and privately thankful that at least he would not be alone in said punishment.

#FFXIVWrite2022 #FFXIVWrite #Warrior of Light: Brigid O'Donnell #Thancred Waters #Urianger Augurelt #Patch 5.2 spoilers #or well it deals with the results of an event at any rate #Triad: Casual Affair Hath Present Laughter #god I need to change that ship tag I still don't like it #Triad: Love Arose and I was There #new ship tag

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thatesqcrush · 5 years ago

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Candygram Wishes

Rafael Barba x Reader. AN: Prompt #1 (Candycanes) from the @thefanficfaerie Christmas OTP challenge found here. CW: None.

Tags: @madpanda75 @ottosuricato @delia26 @dreila03 @sass-and-suspenders @glimmerglittergirl @melsquared79 @mommakat32 @garturbo @southern-magnolia @niyashell @tropes-and-tales @imjustreallynosy @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @sweetsummertime99 @evee87 @scarletsoldierrr @kscarlett1 @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @theenchantedgalleryofstories - anyone else just ask.

It started out by happenstance.

You were studying for your upcoming bar examination. A career change late in life; a second act, if you will. But bills were like clockwork and they came every 30-days. So when your friend Sonny, who was now a lawyer in his own right, said that his former boss needed a replacement nanny, you jumped at the chance. The job was straightforward and provided an opportunity for you to also squeeze in some extra study time while making some money.

And that’s exactly what you were doing tonight.

“Noah, did you finish your math homework?” you called out as you loaded Olivia’s dishwasher.

“Yes,” Noah replied walking in. A bright smile appeared on his face. “Can I show you the new moves I learned from dance school?”

“Well, I was going to make some hot chocolate before bed...” your voice trailed before sighing. “But now I don’t know if I should give you so much sugar if you’re going to be dancing,” you continued, teasing

. “Oh please, please! I want hot chocolate!” Noah exclaimed, jumping up and down excitedly, before spinning in a pirouette.

“Okay, okay,” you laughed. You reached into a cabinet and pulled out a frothing pot. “Go get changed Fred Astaire.”

Noah skipped out of the kitchen as you began making the hot chocolate. As the milk warmed, you raided the pantry for hot chocolate fixings. You found marshmallows, caramel sauce, chocolate chips, crushed sea salt, and three unopened boxes of candy canes. You then checked the refrigerator and found a canister of whip cream. You gathered your materials for the hot chocolate bar you were creating and set them on the table.You used the corner of your nail to pop the plastic open on one of the candy cane packages. You took one out to suck on while you stirred the cocoa powder into the milk.

Noah burst back in. “Y/N, those are for my candygrams for school!”

You cocked your head and raised your brow. “Candygram? What’s a candygram?”

“I’m selling them for $1.00. You give a candy cane to whomever and you write a note that goes with it,” Noah explained.

“Okay, well I’ll give you the $1.00. I just thought they would be good to put in our hot chocolate. But we have lots of other stuff to put in them.”

A staccato knock on the apartment door interrupted your conversation. You shut off the stove and wiped your hands on the dish towel that hung off the oven door handle. You looked at Noah. “Expecting anyone?”

Noah shook his head and you made your way towards the door. You peeked through the peephole and staring back was a very handsome man outfitted in a camel coat and dark brown leather gloves. He had a briefcase in one hand and a stack of red-weld folders in the other.

Cautiously still, you opened the door and poked out your head. “May I help you?”

“Is Liv around? I have these files for her,” the man replied, giving you a once over.

“And you are?” you asked, your eyes narrowing.

“Uncle Rafa! Uncle Rafa!” Noah squeezed and pushed past you. You stepped back, and opened the door slightly wider.

“Hi Noah,” Rafael put down his briefcase and crouched to give Noah a hug.

“Come inside, Y/N is making hot chocolate,” Noah exclaimed and began pulling Rafael towards the apartment.

As Rafael walked past you, you caught a waft of his cologne. It was woodsy and musky, and you closed your eyes taking in the scent. ‘It should be illegal to smell that good.’ You thought as you shut the door behind you and followed Rafael and Noah to the kitchen.

“I’m Y/N - Liv’s new nanny,” you introduced yourself, extending your hand.

“Pardon me. Rafael Barba,” Rafael greeted. He removed his glove and extending his hand. You shook it and gave him a demure smile. “Pleasure to meet you.”

You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Rafael was strikingly handsome with piercing green eyes. His dark coiffed hair was peppered with grey that gave him a distinguished appearance and suddenly you knew why your own mother had a thing for Richard Gere in the ‘90’s.

“Care for some hot chocolate? Coffee, or water, or something else?”

“No thanks,” Rafael replied. “I just wanted to drop these files off for Liv. I didn’t think she was on tonight.”

“She got a last minute call,” you replied. You poured some hot chocolate in a mug and blew on it before placing it front of Noah, who was sitting. You smiled as he squirted some whip cream onto his drink.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” Rafael replied, putting his glove back on. “I’ll text Liv that I came by.”

“Uncle Rafa, stay,” Noah requested. “Y/N, Uncle Rafael is a lawyer, just like you.” Rafael cocked his head at you.

You felt your cheeks flush and you shook your head. “Not a lawyer. Yet. Studying for the bar.”

“Where did you go?” Rafael asked, a smile twitching on his lips.

“Fordham,” you replied. “You?”

“Harvard.”

“Impressive,” you quipped, with a raised brow. You found yourself subconsciously smoothing over your clothes.

“Uncle Sonny went to Fordham,” Noah commented, now sporting a whipped cream mustache.

You turned to Noah. “That’s right, that’s how I met Sonny.” Turning back to Rafael, you continued. “You’re more than welcome to stay but don’t feel obligated if you have other places to be.”

“I actually do have to go,” Rafael replied and you found yourself disappointed.

“I’m sure you have someone waiting for you at home,” you blurted out and then felt your cheeks redden at your social faux pas. In your head, you banged your head against Liv’s wall repeatedly.

“Uncle Rafa isn’t married!” Noah giggled. “Mom says he works too much.”

Rafael felt his own cheeks flush and he coughed, trying to clear his throat. ‘Out of the mouth of babes... or Olivia,’ he thought. “Um something like that. I just have to prep for my case tomorrow. It was nice meeting you.”

You moved to walk Rafael out, but he held up his hand. “Don’t trouble yourself. Noah, pórtate bien. Goodnight.”

Later that night, when you were in the confines of your own apartment, you looked up Rafael Barba. And you fell down the rabbit hole that was Google, learning all about the amazing things this do-gooder of a man had accomplished. And he was handsome to boot. He was quite the package. In an instant, a crush was sparked.

Sometimes you dropped off Noah at the precinct. On more than one occasion, Rafael was there, discussing cases with the squad. Sometimes he gave you a head nod of acknowledgement, sometimes you and he would engage in small talk about your studying or about law school. Sometimes Sonny was there and would teasingly regale with law school horror stories.

You needed help with studying; Sonny was too busy with Hadid and getting his footing in the DA’s office. You thought about asking Rafael for tips on studying but you never dared to ask.

And at night when you were all alone, you would indulge in a fantasy which would revolve around Rafael helping you go through flash cards. It would eventually take a dangerously naughty turn with the end result of the two of you in between the sheets. ***

Rafael knocked on Liv’s apartment door. Ever since he met you that first night when he went to drop off the files, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He always counted his good fortune on the days he got to see you at the squad room.

When the door opened to Liv, Rafael was somewhat disappointed. Liv didn’t miss a beat and saw the flash of disappointment across his face when it registered you weren’t at the sort. She raised a brow, and smirked. “You just missed her.”

“What are you talking about?” Rafael asked as he made his way in.

“Rafael, you may be a lawyer, but I’m a cop. It is my job to read people. And I know when people are lying,” Olivia continued as she shut her door. “I know you like Y/N.”

“Y/N and I are just friendly. That’s all,” Rafael replied, removing his coat.

Liv walked into her kitchen. “I’m going to get some wine. Want some?”

“Please.”

Liv walked back out with two glasses of red wine. She handed a glass to Rafael and joined him on the couch. “I’ve watched you and Y/N interact. She’s single in case you wanted to know. And I think she likes you too.”

Rafael took a sip of the wine. “I don’t know.”

“This job - you give and you give and you give. And it also takes from you. I know. I’ve been there. Think about it. Don’t you think you deserve to be happy?” Olivia questioned.

Rafael swallowed a large gulp of wine, unsure as to how to reply. ***

“Uncle Rafa, uncle Rafa!” Noah exclaimed as he burst through the ADA’s door. The curly haired boy ran towards Rafael’s desk, throwing his coat and book bag onto the floor in process.

“Noah!” Rafael greeted. “Where is your mom?”

“Talking to Carmen. I have a candygram for you.”

“For me? Who’d send me a candygram?” Rafael questioned. Noah dragged his book bag over and unzipped his bag and dumped the contents onto the floor. Pencils scattered about song with folders, notebooks and various textbooks. Among the pile was a single candy cane, taped against a folded note.

Noah handed the candy cane to Rafael. Rafael opened it surreptitiously in order to avoid seeming too eager.

Call her. 917-555-6859 xo, Liv. At that moment, Liv walked in. “See you got my note.”

“Clever, Liv. We’ll see,” Rafael replied, tossing the candycane onto his desk.

“She’s off tonight,” Liv added for good measure.

“I said we’ll see.” ****

You used your teeth to remove the cork from the already opened wine bottle. It had begun to snow; white flurries fluttered against your windowpane and the wind howled fiercely. You dropped to the floor and sat against your couch, one leg outstretched and one pressed against your chest. Study materials decorated your floor.

You felt defeated. The exam was less than a month away and you didn’t feel anymore ready or prepared. You figured you’d give it another hour before calling it a night, when your phone began to buzz. You didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

“Hi, Y/N, it’s Rafael Barba. Liv gave me your phone number.”

“Why would she — um, is everything okay?”

From the other line, Rafael could hear the concern in your voice and he felt his heart race. “Everything is fine. I just wanted to see if you were busy and maybe... perhaps... grab dinner.”

You felt your cheeks pink and your stomach fluttered. “I’d like that.”

“What are you up to tonight?” Rafael pressed.

“I’m free tonight.” After a beat, you continued, looking at your study materials. “It would beat studying.”

“I could bring dinner and we could go through it together,” Rafael offered. You agreed, requested an hour and rattled off your address. “Or we could just do dinner; whatever.”

You rattled off your address and requested an hour, to which Rafael agreed.

Rafael spun the candy cane between his thumb and index finger. He made sure to save your number in his phone, before placing an order of Chinese to pick up. He unwrapped the peppermint candy before placing it in his mouth. A smile twitched on his lips, and he let himself smile.

*** You smiled as you disconnected, before rushing to change. You couldn’t wait to see what was to come.

FIN

#rafael barba x reader #rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba and reader #barba x reader #barba and reader #christmas otp challenge

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aedanstarfang · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome to Morgyn’s Drag Race

I've been away from my blog for quite a while, working on a (stupid) project that has occupied my time. And like all defiantly proud persons, I needed to see through this project to the end...and I also had fun (kinda) working on it. So without further ado, here is the Blogspot premiere of Morgyn's Drag Race: Season One!

Having made its official premiere on August 30, 2020; Morgyn's Drag Race was originally just a fun side-project that blew up into a full size in going 'The Sims' mini series. Meet the Cast

Morgyn Ember

Hailing from the Magic Realm, hidden deep within Glimmerbrook; Morgyn is a non-binary sim though that does not make him ineligible from being one of the sickest drag queens in Sim Nation (look up the real world history of Drag; trans and NB persons were the pioneers of drag culture).

Morgyn introduces himself as the 'head judge' of the inaugural season of Drag Race, alongside his co-judges; Siobhan Fyres and Izzy Fabulous, truly a stylish and LGBTQIA+ inclusive judging panel.

Morgyn's critiques of the queens come from the heart and he laces every critique with a compliment, embracing and appreciating said queen's individuality while criticizing their work. Morgyn can be best described as an fair, constructive and sensitive judge, and unlike real world judge/critics such as Rupaul or Simon Cowell; Morgyn actually critiques the queen's runway rather than barking out trendy one-liners or simply discrediting a queen's work because 'he doesn't like it'.

Siobhan & Izzy make up the rest of the judging panel acting as the defacto Michelle Visage and Santino Rice respectively; though it's a little deeper than that. Siobhan Fyres is more like co-judge 'Stacey McKenzie' of Canada's Drag Race or former Drag Race judge 'Merle Ginsberg', often giving constructive criticism while not shying away from criticizing a queen's sloppiness or lack of runway presence.

Izzy could be compared to ex-Drag Race judge 'Santino Rice', though that comparison falls a little flat when you see that Izzy's personality is less sharp-tongued and 'mean girl'-esque and more blunt and impartial on similar lines as 'Simon Cowell' or 'Piers Morgan'. Izzy openly displays boredom or disinterest within the first few seconds of seeing a queen's runway, and is often chided by Morgyn for being too hasty.

The Pilot or first episode showed us Eliza Pancakes acting as Morgyn's second-in-command as a literal expy of drag race judge 'Michelle Visage', being very quick to dismiss a queen for being weird or different, criticizing a queen's look for not being 'trendy' or 'mainstream' enough and even going so far as taking offense with an Asian queen's pun-name. She was fired by the second episode and instead blackmailed placed into a hosting position of 'What's In the Bag?', which is basically a Sims version of 'Whatcha Packin?' It's a humorous after show type of series that revolves around Eliza interviewing eliminated queens, all the while getting several jabs in at Morgyn, the producers, the company and of course shading the guest queen themselves.

The Contestants

Morgyn's Drag Race was announced on August of this year, which included a special series of 'Meet the Queens' videos focusing on all twelve of the competing queens. This season I am proud to say that it features a diverse range of queens ranging in size, nationality, gender identity and drag/performance style.

The initial twelve 'meet the queens' videos are still available to watch on my youtube channel, however they will soon be made irrelevant as newer, updated MTQ videos shall take their place - featuring a fluid, solid theme for the promo (which never got an official release oops!)

So without further ado, let's do further and get to know these twelve quirky queens shall we (in alphabetical order)? (*Note: That characters who are competing drag queens are referred to as 'her/she' and 'he/him' interchangeably via the rule of 'when a queen is in drag they are she, when they are out of drag they are he, there are of course expections).

Also, MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Baga Trash

Sy Jefferies

AKA "

Baga Trash

" 34, is a well-known drag performer from Windenburg. Now I know what you're probably thinking; "he's an obvious parody of Baga Chipz" well no, not really. While Baga Trash IS a British queen (even if my impression is shite), he was inspired by several different characters and queens including but not limited to 'Tammie Brown' and 'Daphne Moon'. Baga aspires to become the world's top trash queen, and applauds 'trashion' as the style of the future. Interestingly enough, Baga Trash has little to no interest in ANY of the features from Eco Lifestyle, odd since dumpster diving is right up her ally.

Caliente

Nicholas Contreras

aka

"Caliente",

at 24 is one of the youngest competing queens this season right after Terra Ryzen. Caliente prides herself on her youth, beauty and bubbly personality and actively proclaims her "youthful vigor" to be the secret to success. Now what is "youthful vigor" you might ask? Youthful Vigor is the total tetratic composition of youth, attractiveness or beauty, personality and talent. With that mantra in mind, Caliente remains ever cheerful and confident throughout the competition. Having originally been brought up on a large farm in Brindleton Bay, Caliente was no stranger to receiving the occasional odd glance from passersby as she gallivanted down main street in her pink designer miniskirts and halter tops, and to be honest she loved the attention more than anyone could know, this of course would boost her confidence into moving out to Newcrest where she would officially compete for the title of 'Morgyn's Magical Queen'.

Crow

Corbin Corvidae

AKA

"Crow"

30, is an adventurous and experienced queen hailing from Oasis Springs. As many would point out that Crow has glaringly obvious similarities to a certain

real life queen

and I will be 100% honest, yes Crow is an homage to many former Drag Race queens. Crow's personality I think is what sets her apart and standalone from other queens, both real life and fictitious. The most obvious similarities being Crow's seemingly bitter attitude towards the younger queens (particularly Caliente and Terra Ryzen), which plays into the same trope of "

this is a competition

" and "

blame the edit

". When starting Morgyn's Drag Race, we needed an antithesis to who we figured would be the standout protagonists of the season (being either Galaxia, Lapis or Caliente) and Crow fits that bill nicely.

Crow's moniker stems from her fascination with the color black, darkness, midnight and the very bird itself while the demeanor and overall look of her character is derived from her love of the 1990's film of the same name. Crow's experience and expertise with drag make her a force to be reckoned with, while her demure and sultry demeanor set her apart from the competition. Regardless of how you feel about Miss Crow, no one can deny that she serves some serious looks each time she hits the runway

Extra

Lance Proffitt

(pronounced 'Pro-feet') aka

"Extra"

29, is a professional

"background artist"

from Del Sol Valley, and no we're not talking about the actual profession of the

same name

we're talking about an

extra

, as in an uncredited background character in a film or series. Basically Extra is really talented at not being the lead character in movies or TV. Extra's personality is kind of a composition of an egotistical and yet eerily self-aware celebrity. Extra doesn't NEED others to remind him that he's a star, because in his world he is already a star. He mentions in his initial "talking head" during Episode One/Pilot that he had background roles in such serials as;

"Touched by an Alien"

"Abducted for Real"

and

"The Great Awful Cook-off"

. He also noted in his

"What's In the Bag"

segment with Eliza Pancakes, that he is a musical queen and that his talent for the talent show challenge would have been a live rendition of his hit song;

"Boy is a Bear"

. This is a bit of a spoiler so I rupologize in advance, but even Extra's book title for episode six;

"Suck More"

must be a callback to a certain real world queen, right? Whatever the case, Extra's willing to put int the time so long as you're willing to pay the dime.

Fortuna Cookie

Shūfáng Shāncháhuā ('Shu' for short) aka "Fortuna Cookie" 25, is a young queen from Strangerville who's motto is undoubtedly "here to make it queer", has certainly came to the right show hasn't she? Shu started drag at a shockingly young age; 3, when she dressed up in her mom's clothes and makeup and impersonated 'Miss Piggy' to entertain her family, though they were more red-faced from secondhand-embarrassment than laughter.

Cookie is a very artistic and personable queen, having done drag professionally since at least high school and performed at the 8-Bells in Strangerville since her university days at Britechester. She was taken in by her would be drag-mother, 'Mint Cookie' and quickly made friends with newfound family; 'Sugar Cookie', 'Fudge Cookie' and 'Samoa Cookie'. Shu's drag name had always just been 'Fortuna' (for luck) before being adopted by the Haus of Cookie, where she became "Fortuna Cookie".

Galaxia

Cosmo Nebulon AKA "Galaxia" 28, is quite possibly the most unique queen in this lineup; not only is she the only queen from Sixam, but also the very first 'Alien' contestant in the series history (but surely not to be the last). Galaxia moved to Del Sol Valley shortly before being cast on "Morgyn's Drag Race", because as he puts it the "drag scene on Sixam is boring!" Self-described 'Xenomorph Queen' Galaxia certainly has a lot in common with real life queens such as 'Alaska' and 'Pandora Boxx', though I think Galaxia's uniqueness in both style and personality make him standout from the crowd, that and he's "a fucking alien!"

For everyone who's seen the initial airing of the pilot will know that Galaxia is here to bring it on a galactic level, having aced the "Trash to Treasure" challenge seemingly flawlessly (though editing does play a part in EVERY reality series) and unanimously impressed the judging panel, even stone-cold bitch Eliza Pancakes. Spoilers ahead for recently dropped Episode 5; Snatch Game saw Galaxia in the bottom for the first time, but little did her competition know that she was no slouch because she TURNED. IT. OUT! Not one, not two, but three reveals during the lipsync - I COULD NOT, BELIEVE IT (and I'm the one who created everything)"! Clearly Galaxia is not playing around and takes the competition VERY seriously, going so far as to plan ahead for a possible lipsync for your life with three reveals to boot, it's curious what else she had planned up her sleeve for the previous runways and if she had similar reveals planned.

Icy

Myron Frost AKA "Icy" 27, of Willow Creek came to the competition pulling no punches and dressing to impress from the get-go. Icy began drag during her teen years, and started performing professionally during college. Aside from being the series' first black queen to walk through those doors, Icy also brought her own sense of style and class to the initial competition. Professionalism, style, and class are all words synonymous with Icy; a queen who carries herself as though she has already won (because let's be honest, you NEED a fiery attitude in order to get ahead in these sorts of contests). Though behind the confident and stunning exterior, belies a person who detests drama of any sort, and can be seen at any time an argument erupts - Icy is sure to stay out of the line of sight.

When I think of Icy, I think of former Drag Race queens who carried a similar air of confidence, professionalism and style such as Chad Michaels and Jaida Essence Hall, though honestly Icy is as much her own identity as anyone else, and the aforementioned queens merely served as inspiration, vocal fry and all.

Jackqleen Qkwueeen

Jackson King AKA "Jackqleen Qkwueeen" 37, is Magnolia Promenade's premiere expert in classical theater and the bardic arts. And I'm not going to start this article off with a lie, when I conceptualized Jackqleen I had originally envisioned a different kind of queen entirely which can be seen in her original 'Meet the Queens' video, which if I'm being honest, pretty much all of the queens had different personalities and quirks that differ from their current/later personas. Jackqleen was originally supposed to be a faux Shakespearean expert who would occasionally slip into talking with her rural dialect or twang, which I disliked for a multitude of reasons and decided that making Jackqleen a legitimate, classically trained thespian of Magnolia Promenade, was more interesting. And to make her standout vocally and personality-wise, I just kept picturing Frasier Crane.

Despite having fallen into the bottom two the first episode, and let's be honest that "Trash to Treasure" challenge was not tailored to make everyone look good, which in Jackqleen's case made her look worse than Velvetta Baggins, whom was described as someone having walked out of a day spa. We can't deny that Jackqleen has a refined and sophisticated outlook to drag, and that being a professional theater actor can only help propel her career as a drag artist

Lapis

Bleau Rathbone AKA "Lapis" 31, is one of San Myshuno's most eclectic, eccentric and unique artists. Having performed drag since his nineteenth birthday; Bleau introduced himself in drag to the world of performance art for the first time and then and there 'Lapis' was born (*Note: Lapis prefers to be referred to as 'they/them', but only when in full drag). Lapis' namesake stems from the gemstone itself 'lapis lazuli', the fact that it is mostly blue and their love for the color blue, taking all of these facets into consideration it's not hard to see why Lapis incorporates everything into their drag.

If you've been watching 'Morgyn's Drag Race' since Episode One, then you're already familiar with just how iconic a queen that Lapis is, having served looks since Episode One with the upcoming Episode 7 and 8 possibly being their strongest serves yet. Lapis believes in and identifies with the individual, priding themselves with being as unique and as standout as possible all while continuing to stay on-brand with the Lapis name (everything blue, black, eclectic and electric).

Parsley

Parsley 32, is quite possibly the single-most polarizing figure from 'Morgyn's Drag Race'. Hailing from Evergreen Harbor, Parsley describes herself as being "lean, green and mean" and the "green meanie". The second she steps through the entryway she insults her competition by calling them all "douchebags" (originally calling them "motherfuckers"), and also easily dismisses them as being 'basic', 'boring' and 'not impressive'. With a raspy growly voice that would give Patty & Selma a run for their money.

Parsley was inundated into the world of drag years back when she lived in San Myshuno and roomed with a popular Drag Queen named 'Darren Leek', who at the time was also her roommate. Darren welcomed Parsley into the Leek family of drag, becoming her drag-mother in the process. Though Parsley stood out from the crowd, having picked a green theme and sticking to it, she polarized a large majority of folks she came into contact with, many finding her to be rude while others found her to be downright terrifying. Parsley's own drag-mother, Darren Leek cut ties with her because of her behavior, and quite possibly out of fear.

Terra Ryzen

Scotch Golddig

AKA

"Terra Ryzen"

22, is another queen hailing from Strangerville and is also the youngest competing queen in the competition to date. Some who have browsed the Sims reddit may remember Scotch making a few appearances

pre-drag race

as "

Florida Man

", a member of the infamous "Golddig" clan; a family of reputed 'gold-diggers' who are always looking for their next claim. His grandmother, 'Dusty Bones' made occasional appearances on reddit as a burnt-out version of '

Matilda the Chef

Terra enters the competition as the youngest queen and also the most inexperienced, asking the more experienced queens for help with her makeup and nails shortly after making her entrance. Terra is almost immediately denigrated by her older, more experiences co-competitors as being "busted" and looking a "mess", though despite all that Terra manages to maintain a confidence bordering on cockiness that she will succeed and in fact win the competition, though anyone having seen the first episode will know Terra's ultimate fate.

Velvetta Baggins

Wilberforce Armitage XVII AKA "Velvetta Baggins", is an oldschool queen from Windenburg. She speaks with a High-British or a classically 'posh British' accent, and frequently bemoans about all of the times that the French ave supposedly terrorized her and her comrades while on active duty during the war, which war you ask? She can't remember, though it was likely sometime during the ice age as woolly mammoths and spear-throwing cavemen were involved. The running gag involving Velvetta is that she is old, like really very old. In truth she is probably somewhere around 50-55 years old, however Caliente refers to Velvetta as being "90" in her talking head and Terra Ryzen speculates that she is from the Mesozoic era, basically Velvetta is the oldest queen of the season which makes her target for everyone else. A pianist classically trained in the styles of baroque, Velvetta has entertained audiences for generations and continues to do so using her oldschool style, while fellow Windenburg queen Baga Trash utilizes modern pop culture and of course 'rubbish' to entertain audiences. What's interesting about fellow Windenburg Queens; Velvetta and Baga Trash is that they are both so intrinsically different, despite hailing from the same place. It can be argued that since Velvetta has been performing drag at a time since before Baga Trash, that the two styles will naturally be different.

I think the truth of the matter is that Velvetta is just another quirky, cooky queen with a bizarre sense of humor and a unique self-styled sense of fashion, not unlike Tammie Brown. The constant callbacks to the wartime tactics and the French are either a clever joke in the guise of obfuscating reality or she actually is senile and is suffering from false memories, either way Velvetta certainly is an interesting queen to have on the stage.

So now that you've gotten to know our judges, and all twelve contestants on a more personal level, maybe you will remember to set that timer to watch 'Morgyn's Drag Race' this Sunday, at 12:45 PM Pacific Standard Time.

#AedanStarfang #RuPaul's Drag Race #Morgyn's Drag Race #Drag Race #the sims 4 #the sims

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