#Sincerely Tyra

[teachussomethin]

My List of More

Hi! My name is TyraShange + I want to know some of your favorite things. A while ago, I created a list of (some of) my favorite things. I took some time to update it with a few more things that I think would make me smile in this season in life. “Tyra’s List of More”More writing.More writing on pink frilly paper.More passion tea.More rain before clear skies.More faux fur throws.More cozy,…

[inell]

Regardless of what happens Thursday night and how the El Paso plot ends up*, we are going to witness so much amazing face acting from Ryan Guzman that I’m already kicking my feet and feeling my heart break. He has definitely learned how to smize and sadize, so Tyra Banks would be most impressed. Seriously, though, he is just so damned good at the silent, subtle acting.

*I figure authors on AO3 are more likely to provide better resolution to the whole Chris-Eddie arc than the show because I lack faith after the Kim fiasco happened in the first place, but I do sincerely hope that we do get some type of communication and great Eddie-Chris moments on the show to wrap this stupid plot up. Expectations are low so I can be pleasantly surprised instead of disappointed.

[lokisprettygirl]

Step Out Of Line (Bill Skarsgard! Eric Draven x Female Reader) (Alternate Universe) (18+)

Read Chapter 13 here// Series Masterlist

Chapter 14

Summary : Amidst the growing relationship with Eric the hidden truth of your past comes back to haunt you.

Warning: 18+, smut, dry humping , non consensual sex, mention of drug addiction, grooming, mommy kink, age gap relationship, emotional cheating, marital abuse, sexual abuse, consumption of weed

Offers were pouring in for Eric, especially after the pictures from Dante DeLuca shoot came out and went viral, he was getting too big for you to handle, you had to deny an offer yesterday because his dates clashed with another project . And to think he had gone from zero to this in a few months was nothing short of a miracle. He was destined for this and Dolly had tried so hard to keep him away from this. There wasn't a moment in your life where you felt an ounce of regret for getting him out of her clutches.

You felt scared though because you knew there were things about your life he didn't know yet. Those five years you spent in New York..things happened, things you hadn't shared with anyone. He was hell bent on not leaving for Milan without you and you just had a feeling you won't get the visa approval again. Not with your history.

“Eric..now put your fingers on her jaw..eye contact” the photographer yelled, pulling you out of your thoughts.

He was on set again, modelling for another fragrance campaign and of course he had a new partner. Tyra.

You heard the flashes of the camera going off before the photographer was satisfied with what he had envisioned in his mind.

“Perfect guys, that's a wrap-”

You took a deep breath as he said that, it has been a few hours and you just wanted to go home with him so you could kiss his adorable face.

As Eric approached you, you got up from the chair to hug him.

“That was amazing, feels so good to watch you in action again” you mumbled softly as your fingers played with the collar of his shirt.

“And it felt amazing that I was able to turn my head and see your beautiful face,” he replied as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

You both had decided to keep your relationship on downlow, especially because the divorce case was still running and his growing popularity on social media had you a little worried. He already had a fanpage on Instagram and as much as you loved that for him you also knew how those pages worked. Soon they'll find out everything there was to find about him.

“Is that true? Because I saw Beautiful Tyra there whispering in your ear and giggling” you said playfully so he narrowed his eyes.

“Are you jelly?” he asked

“Did you just use the word jelly?” you chuckled.

“Are you? Are you jelly? Because if you are I might just have to take you back to our car and show you that Tyra or any other woman got nothing on you” he said sincerely, making heat creep up on your cheeks.

You had been taking this as slow as you possibly could with this walking talking aphrodisiac of a man, given everything he had been through.

But when he said things like that, it became difficult for you to keep your hands to yourself.

“We are in public..you better shut your mouth” you warned him.

“Mmm then take me somewhere private and you can shut my mouth in all the ways you want” he whispered.

You gasped before you grabbed his arm to drag him to the dressing room so he could change. His giggles followed you every step of the way.

Later in the car, he drove a mile before stopping on a deserted road.

“You know this is exactly how people die in horror movies” You said to him as you took your seatbelt off before climbing onto his lap, the cheshire cat-like grin on his face made you want to kiss it away from his face.

“You will protect me” he said as he cupped your cheeks and stared at you for a moment before his lips latched onto you, he tasted like strawberry bubblegum, probably the lip balm they used on him and you could have sucked on those lips for hours.

Minutes passed like that, just the two of you pressed against each other, when he had to breathe he'd pull away from your lips, albeit a bit reluctantly but his lips would move onto your neck and shoulders.

He looked so good, he smelled so good, he was just so good..

“You know, if we keep doing this, your plan to take things slow is gonna fly right out the window” he murmured against your skin so you pulled away to look at him.

“You’re the one who brought us here on a deserted road, sir” you reminded him.

“Guilty. But I’d do it again just to see that look you had on your face when you climbed into my lap” he said, the smirk visible on his face.

“You’re incorrigible”

“Mmm no..I’m in love,” he replied.

There was no hesitation, no fear, none of his usual shyness

Your breath caught in your chest, the sound of his voice was like music to your ears. He hadn’t said it before. Not like this. Not this openly.

“Mmm you are?” You asked, you didn't really need to hear it but you'd be lying if you said it didn't feel good to hear that from this beautiful man's mouth.

“A part of me has always been..it just felt wrong before. But now I can say it to you..i have been in love with you for a long time sweet angel.. I didn't think I'd ever get here with you, it just seemed impossible but you made it happen”

“We did Eric” you murmured softly as you cupped his cheeks to kiss him again ”Boy you really know how to get me all up in my feelings these days” You murmured playfully so he smiled.

“Only because you made it safe for me to say that..i could say anything to you and you'd never be annoyed, or hurt me for that” Your eyes teared up as he said that. He was so precious it hurt.

“I'm so in love with you it scares me” You admitted hesitantly, his brows furrowed.

“Why?”

“Because i want to protect you all the time and i know I can't..i can't protect you from everything”

“You have already enough y/n..I'll get better, I'll get stronger, i'll keep myself safe for you and i'll keep you safe the way you do for me”

“You already do baby” you kissed his forehead before you hugged him as tightly as you could.

When you reached home that night you opened up a message from Sonia, it was her birthday tomorrow and she wanted to invite you and Eric. Together.

You smiled as you responded to her message that you'll be there but then another one came in.

Sonia: She's such a bitch

She had attached a screenshot from the recent story Clara had posted on her instagram. After you had verbally destroyed her that day she had blocked you everywhere but had been posting snarky stories nonetheless.

“Advice of the year..don't be that girl that ruins a marriage because she got hots for her stepfather lmao”

Your blood boiled as you read her words. She was scorned and spewing bullshit.

Like this was some sort of sleazy forbidden affair between you and Eric. She wanted people to talk. People from your school were probably already messaging each other about it for all you knew.

As Eric came back from the kitchen holding two cups of coffee he didn't miss the saddened look on your face.

“What is it?” He asked softly so you turned off your phone and threw it on the couch.

“Nothing” you smiled, you didn't want him to see that, he didn't spend much time on social media and he wasn't even following her anymore so you didn't want him to worry about it. “Ahhh Sonia invited us to her birthday tomorrow”

“Us?” his brows quirked in curiosity.

“Yeah us” you repeated with a soft smile, doing your best to push down the bitterness Clara's story had brought you.

“Does she know about us? She's cool with it?” He asked you as he sipped on his coffee.

“She was cool about it even before we were to be honest” you let out a giggle.

“Yeah?”

“Mmm she kind of grounded me that night when I was spiralling and missing you” you said softly so he smiled.

“That's good, you deserve a friend like that” he mumbled as he leaned forward to kiss your forehead. “I'm still your best friend” you chuckled as he said that.

“Since I was seventeen”

*************

“Heyyyy” you yelled at Sonia so she squealed back in response. You held onto his arm as you dragged him through the crowd, excited to celebrate both Sonia’s birthday and his recent success. As you reached her, she hugged you, giving Eric a friendly wave.

Your phone began to ring and you didn't want to miss a call if it was work related so you excused yourself, Leaving Eric and Sonia to stare at each other awkwardly.

“Sooo do i need to give you the whole If you ever hurt her speech or???” She said to him as she eyed him suspiciously..

“Well Do i need to do that?” He shot back, making her eyes narrow in response before she smiled.

“I like you man,” she said as ordered drinks for everyone “Thanks for coming by the way’ she added.

“Thanks for inviting us” he mumbled politely.

“Yeah she needed this, she was so bummed about that stupid bitch Clara being a cunt” she said, her voice dripping with hatred.

“Wait, what did she do now?” Eric asked curiously. Sonia had no clue you hadn't told him anything at all so she showed him the screenshot. He was going to say something but then you returned and stood between them both.

“You have another offer, we can talk about it when we are home”

He smiled as you said that, he didn't want to talk about work right now either.

“Ohhh there's a cute guy staring at me since we got here so..ciao for now” Sonia said as she blew a kiss your way before she disappeared into the crowd.

“Guess she's getting a birthday gift tonight” you joked but he kept staring at you intently “Hey..you okay?” You asked him as he seemed lost in his head and suddenly he grabbed your arm to pull you closer to his chest.

“Why didn't you tell me?” He asked as he cupped your cheeks “About Clara? Her bullshit..why didn't you share with me?”

You blinked rapidly at him, his tone was gentle as usual but firm at the same time, he seemed wounded that you'd not share your troubles with him.

“You’ve been doing so well lately and I just… I didn’t want to drag you back into her crap” His brows furrowed as you said that, jaw tensing slightly.

“You think I can’t handle someone talking shit about us?”

“It’s not that” you whispered, placing your hands over his chest. “It’s not about what you can’t handle, Eric. It’s about what you shouldn’t have to. You’ve had so much to deal with already. I just—” your voice cracked a little “I didn’t want to pile more on your plate. Especially not from someone like Clara. She doesn’t deserve your energy after what she did with you”

He exhaled sharply, pulling you into a hug so tight it momentarily knocked the air out of your lungs.

“I’m not fragile, you know” he murmured “You don’t have to protect me from everything. Especially not this. Not when it’s about us.. not when someone is hurting my angel, I want to be there for you too like you're for me.” Your eyes welled up as he said that but you fought hard to not let those tears fall.

“Okay I'm sorry”

“No sorrys..you just let me be here okay? You promise?” he said softly as he pecked your lips.

“I promise” you murmured as you hugged him again, his body felt so warm and safe around you. You needed this.

“Let's dance” you said to lighten up his mood before grabbing his arm to drag him to the dance floor..

He was a little awkward and shy as you began to dance with him but as the dj turned the music into a slow sultry rhythm his body melted into yours. The bass was thumping all around him but somehow his heart was beating even faster.

As you turned around to place your head down on his shoulder, his hands wrapped around your waist, your back pressing into his chest, he brought his head down to kiss your cheek before his lips found yours, he reached for your cheek as if to hide you from the prying eyes.

When he finally pulled away he kissed your cheek again.

“You're glowing” he whispered in your ear, making you giggle in response.

“It's just the lights”

“No it's you” he said

“Says the supermodel” you turned around to face him, your arms curling around his neck as your hips kept swaying to the gentle beat of the music.

“You keep calling me that and someday I might just become one”

“You already are, they just don't know it yet” he chuckled.

“Mmm can we go home now?” he murmured in your ear.

“Are you tired?”

“No, I just want to keep you to myself.. I'll apologise to Sonia.. though I'm pretty positive she's occupied” he said as he looked at her flirting with the guy who had been eyeing her before.

As he dragged you out of the club, your eyes met with Sonia and she gave you a wink, so you mouthed an apology to her.

On the way back home you kept your fingers running through his hair and then you remembered something. The club, the dress, the night. It brought back a certain memory.

“You know I never apologised for being so inappropriate with you on my birthday last year” he chuckled as you suddenly brought that up.

“You were killing me that night”

“I'm sorry, i shouldn't have touched you like that” his eyes softened as you said that.

“It's ok.. besides you're the only girl I'd ever want to be inappropriate with me”

He just knew what to say to you these days.

As you reached home you dragged him to the couch and made him sit down before straddling his lap. He looked so good, the black shirt and blue jeans, that was his thing, his comfort, but he still looked every bit of a model that he was.

His breath shuddered at the sudden proximity, you always rode your dress up before you sat down on him like this.

“Feeling okay?” You asked him just to make sure as you kissed his neck ,he bit on his lower lip so harshly you feared he'd draw blood.

How was he supposed to be ok? He could feel the heat emanating from your core over his bulge, the thin fabric of your silk panties did nothing to hide it.

“Ohhhh im okay” his voice came out in breathless whisper as your hips moved slightly, he placed his head down on the couch, giving you complete access to his neck.

“You look so pretty like this”

You murmured as your hand sneaked under the hem of his shirt, his muscles flexing wherever your fingers traced.

“Ohhhh” he let out a moan before biting his lip to stifle the noises he was making.

“You can moan baby ..it's so hot” you murmured in his ear, pulling his lip out of the grasp of his teeth.

He had only ever been with one woman his whole life and she sure as hell didn't like alot of things he did when she fucked him, she called him a girl and humiliated him whenever he moaned like that, especially if he was enjoying it and not whimpering because of pain.

A part of him was triggered as if he was expecting something to hurt him, a slap on the face, a sharp pull of his hair, hurl of abuses. As his body tensed up underneath you, you quickly cupped his cheeks to make him look at you.

“Hey..hey baby..tell me what you want okay? Anything..you're in control here” he gulped as you cooed so warmly.

“I ….just ..I'm sorry…I'm just not used to this” he murmured hesitantly.

“I know..it's okay”

“Please don't stop..” he let out a moan as he grabbed your hips so you humped against him slowly.

“That's what you want, hmm?”

“Yes please..”

Placing your arms on the head of the couch you moved slowly, your hips rolling in circles of eight.

“Oh that's good” you moaned as his bulge rubbed against your center perfectly, the friction building up that sweet sensation in your core.

“Want to hear something naughty?” You whispered, your head lulling behind in pleasure.

“Yess..” he answered, he was so turned he knew he wouldn't last. He probably didn't even need the physical stimulation to cum, he could do it just by watching you like this.

“I used to ..ahhh I used to touch myself thinking about you like this, even when I shouldn't have”

His eyes widened as you said that. He had touched himself too thinking about you but a part of him still didn't believe that you had felt the same way all these years.

One of his hands curled around the back of your neck, holding your head in that position so you'd be comfortable.

“Mmm what else did you think of angel?”

“Thought about.. kissing you, having you touch me in places that would make me squirm, thought about sucking your cock-” you said as you pulled his thumb into your mouth. His pupils blew wide as he felt your tongue swirling around his digit.

“Ohh fuck” he cursed under his breath, just the thought of you sucking him off was too much to handle.

“Would you like that?” you asked him and he could only whimper in response.

He hooked his thumb under your lower teeth to pull you closer before his lips latched onto yours, then he began to thrust his hips into your core, matching your rhythm, as you moaned louder he was only encouraged to keep up the pace.

“I can't..hold for long” he mumbled as he placed his head on your breasts.

“Don't have to hold on...just let go”

The moment you said that his body trembled beneath you, every muscle taut as he finally surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure building inside him. His head tipped back against the couch, watching him like that was all the encouragement you needed to hit the peak of your own orgasm.

You placed your head down on his chest, your hips still moving slightly as you rode the high together.

You stayed there for a moment, breathless, flushed, and completely wrapped up in the new found intimacy that lingered between you. Eric's arms slowly came around your back, holding you as if he was afraid you'd disappear.

“You okay?” you murmured against his skin so he let out a shaky laugh, fingers brushing gently up your spine, voice still catching up to the breaths

“Okay? I think you have just ruined me forever” you smiled as he said that.

His chest rose and fell rapidly beneath you, his t-shirt slick with the sweat, his heart still pounding under your touch, you weren't any different. He had ruined you too.

He had ruined you for any other man out there, no one will ever compare to him.

You wished things could have stayed like that forever but it wasn't possible, not with his past and not with yours, not with your mother lingering in the shadows.

The next day you were out on a grocery trip, Eric was still asleep so you didn't want to wake him. You had texted him just in case he'd get up before you came back. That's when you bumped into your mother again.

She smiled her usual menacing smile, she seemed perfectly curated like always.

“Fuck off” you said to her even before she'd open her mouth to say something about Eric. You knew she would try to piss you off on purpose.

“Does he know sweetheart?”

You were walking back from the store, paper bags crinkling in your hands when you heard the clicks of her heels following you.

You turned slowly, jaw clenching as you saw her, sunglasses perched on her head and a smug expression dancing across her face.

“Knows what?” you said flatly

“I did some digging” she said, circling you slowly like a predator toying with her prey. “Imagine my surprise when I found out Why your visa for Paris was cancelled. Oh, that’s right… possession of illegal substances. Arrested. Cute mugshot by the way” she said as she pulled up a picture of you from the arrest.

Your stomach twisted, throat tightening. You hadn’t thought about that in years, you had buried it so deep you had almost convinced yourself it never happened. Didn't even think about it until the Visa got cancelled, you never told him, never told him the truth.

“What do you want, Dolly?” you asked, voice low and trembling with fury.

“I want you to remember that I still have power. I want you to think long and hard before parading around with Eric” she smiled.

“Do you really think he'll care about something stupid i did when I was nineteen?” you asked as your eyes welled up.

“Oh, but he doesn’t know this, does he?” she said, tilting her head. “And wouldn’t it be devastating if he finds out that his favourite y/n, the one he bared his soul open to, the girl he thinks has always been so perfect and precious, got herself into the drugs, same as him?”

“I never touched them..i was just in bad company” you defended yourself, trying to not let her words affect you but her venom was already seeping inside. He'd be disappointed in you, he shared his struggles with you before you left for college, and then you got yourself involved with people who were nothing but trouble.

“But you were caught. And now it’s on record. Public record” Her smile widened “Paris, Milan, you can't go anywhere with him can you??” she snickered “He eyed his own stepdaughter in the presence of his wife..do you think he'll be loyal to you when he's surrounded by all those women and you're nowhere near him?”

“He never touched me and he never betrayed you even though he should have a long time ago. You hurt him and you can speak all you want but I’m not afraid of you” you finally said.

“You should be..I'm your mother after all and you stole my husband from me you little bitch”

She said before she walked away, leaving you in the parking lot with your hands shaking and a secret you weren’t sure you could keep buried much longer.

You had to tell him. You had to before she would. You just feared what would happen when you will. You didn't fear losing him, you knew he'd not just leave you for something like that. He was too precious to do that to you.

The thing you feared was him looking at you differently.

🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲

Taglist @mariaenchanted @malenoradgn @loushaw131460 @wiseyouthinfluencer @muchwita @urmomsgirlfriend1

[zee-has-commitment-issues]

Hello lovely! For the director's cut, talk to me about the Voicemail Box series and/or Just Some Guy From Biology, please and thank you xx

Hi love!

Okay so I'm gonna talk about Melvin (all the bitches love Melvin)

Originally I hadn't planned for it to be a series, so I didn't put much thought into the other characters. They were very much their stereotypes: dumb gossip, sidekick, and nerd. But when I wrote the second one, I had to go in and give them solid personalities. When I wrote the second one, I had planned for a third one, and the third one was going to be much more about Melvin. He had a big part in it, because it was essentially going to be about Wilhelm babysitting his daughter while he and Simon studied.

So here are the things I'd figured out about Melvin in preparation for that:

he was a teen dad, and then a single dad after his daughter's mom decided she wanted to do something else with her life that didn't include a child.

He's well off. Not like our canon characters, but enough that he can afford to keep his kid in private daycare (the same one Walter's sister uses, the same one Wilhelm and friends attended as children) but he won't be sending his kid to boarding school, and he'll stop paying for daycare when she is of school age.

His daughter's name is Melinda! The running joke is that they are Mel and Melvin.

He's got a fiancee named Tyra! And she'd wonderful, and she loves Melinda.

Melvin and Melinda are the reason Wilhelm and Simon decide they want their own kids.

And finally, the image in my head of Melvin's physical appearance has changed quite literally 20 times. He had been black, he has been white, he has had glasses, he has been bald, he has been eight feet tall. Right now, when I picture Melvin, I picture a grown up Miles Morales, but who knows how long this will last. Melvin is ambiguous. He could be anyone.

I sincerely hope you have enjoyed this look into the Just Some Guy universe.

ask for directors commentary on a fic of mine

[scandistar]

OC Tag Game

Thank you so much for tagging me @clericblood <3 Took me a while to get to it, but I wouldn't miss a chance to yap about OCs 😅

I'm tagging @dearest-and-nearest, @sleketon-or-slekky, @sasssha199 to yap about your loves as well <3 (no pressure, as always)

General:

Name: Charrelin Ochredeine Alias: Lin, usually in place of her full name, and Linnie by Karlach. Goldie (as in Goldilocks) by Lanno to protect her identity from the Guild when she was younger. Gender: Cis Woman Age: 28 Spoken Language: Common, Dethek (dwarvish) Sexual orientation: Pan and demiromantic Occupation: Harper Scout and Weaver, later Apothecary

Favorite:

Color: Green, Red Entertainment: Experimenting with Alchemy Pastime: Exploring new places, studying plants, concocting potions, smoking her pipe while people-watching, weaving, training training training, trying to read undisturbed while chilling with the sheep Food: Bread with seeds, fried cod and boiled potatoes Drink: "relaxing" tea (opioids), whisky

Have They...

Passed University: She didn't even pass grade school. She couldn't keep her focus on studying for the life of her, so she gave up on getting an education altogether since she was convinced she was stupid. However, she learns by doing, which is something most schools can't offer. Had Sex: Flings while travelling. Never caught feelings Had Sex in Public: She's too unabashed to have any problem with that, so yes: Definitely Gotten Tattoos: No Gotten Piercings: Earrings and a helix piercing Gotten Scarred: Oh, all over. One on her face and collarbone from her own deflected arrow, two on her stomach from an Assasin Vine, one on her leg from a Zhentarim dagger, one on her shoulder from a worg, two on her neck and one on her back from a Calishite mercenary fight, and a massive scar on her waist from when a drow gutted her. Later gets a scar from the spear a shadow-cursed Harper drives through her chest. She's been through it Had a Broken Heart: Not by a lover, but by Chauntea when her family farm rotted.

Are They...

A cuddler: Big cuddler. Likes physical touch Scared Easily: No. She does get scared, but she wills her way through her fear to get things done. Jealous Easily: Not really. She's highly independent, but she does worry about losing people. Trustworthy: Maybe not with a trust-fall, but she'll be there for you no matter what. Ochredeine's value trust and sincerity.

Family:

Siblings: Little brother Magnus, bigger brother Tadur, little sister Neira and big sister Tyra. Tadur lives in Daggerford and Tyra lived in Elturel before the descent Parents: Lives with her mother Sedja, father moved to Elturel (and died in Elturel) Children: One day, she hopes Pets: Maybe not pets, but plenty of sheep and chickens

[thelonelybrilliance]

Tyra at the Panther Roast making a sincere and fulsome apology for blowing up at Landry when he disclosed her assault to a mandatory reporter (understandable but still compounding her trauma and leading to her being insensitively treated by cops, so like, of course she had a strong emotional reaction) only for him to guilt her, hold it over her head, and slut shame her for hanging out with Tim... Landry rot in Dante's hell for that challenge

[mskyrathefroggo]

The Fall Of Tyra

In the celestial realm, there once was a fallen angel named Tyra. In her prime, she had been one of God's most perfect and high-ranking angels and even Gods favorite Angel. Her beauty and grace were renowned throughout the heavens, and her laughter had been like music to the divine ears.

However, Tyra's story took a sorrowful turn. She had succumbed to pride and ambition, harboring thoughts of challenging the very Creator who had fashioned her. In her arrogance, she led a rebellion, hoping to dethrone the Lord. Her actions were a grave betrayal of the divine trust, and for her sins, Tyra fell from grace.

As Tyra descended from the heavens, her radiant wings turned ashen, and her once luminous eyes filled with tears.

She became a pariah, an embarrassment to the angelic host, and her heart was heavy with the weight of her regrets.

Day and night, Tyra begged the Lord for forgiveness. She pleaded for a chance to redeem herself, to make amends for her rebellion, and to return to the grace of heaven.

Her cries echoed in the celestial void, a mournful melody that reached the ears of the divine. The Lord, in all His wisdom, listened to Tyra's pleas, but forgiveness did not come easily.

Tyra's actions had been a severe affront to the divine order, and her fall had been a lesson for all of creation. The Lord spoke to her, "Tyra, your remorse is genuine, and your suffering is evident. But the path to redemption is not one that can be traversed lightly. You must carry the burden of your actions and learn from your fall." Tyra, tears streaming down her cheeks, vowed to do whatever it took to regain the Lord's favor. She undertook a journey of self-discovery and penance. She wandered through the mortal realm, offering guidance and comfort to the lost and suffering, hoping to ease their pain in the name of the divine. Years turned into centuries, and Tyra's heart began to heal. Her once sorrowful cries transformed into prayers of gratitude, thanking the Lord for the opportunity to make amends. Yet, despite her efforts, the Lord's forgiveness remained elusive. One day, as Tyra gazed upon the heavens with longing in her eyes, a radiant beam of divine light enveloped her. The Lord's presence surrounded her, and His voice resonated like a celestial symphony.

"Tyra, your journey of redemption has been a testament to the strength of your remorse and the depth of your regret. For your unwavering devotion, I offer you a chance to return to the celestial realm."

Tears of joy flowed down Tyra's face as she accepted the Lord's grace.

She understood that forgiveness, even for the most fallen, could be achieved through sincere remorse and a commitment to rectify one's past actions.

Tyra's story served as a testament to the power of redemption, reminding all that even in the depths of despair, the chance to rise anew was never truly lost.

[cupoftrembling]

The first thing Vera noticed was the flies.

Mariposa was not a particularly humid city, despite what its place on the coast of the Screaming Seas might lead you to believe. It was often cooler, even into the summertime, with wafting breeze coming from across the rocks on the Butterfly Bay. In fact, it is that cool breeze that allowed the city to become something of a mercantile hub, with the tradewinds stretching far across the continent, from the Coalition of Eastern Regencies to the Empire of Night. The air does not stick to the lungs, sweat does not coat the back of your head when you toil.

And yet, there the flies were. In the sticky, sweet air in Manor Tyra, just in the corner of the room, she saw them buzzing around a vent in the wall, flying in and out of the metal opening. They almost seem to dance, their humming almost melodic in its grating. They disperse across the room as they leave the air vent, maybe three, maybe four. One lands on a blood red chrysanthemum, one lands right on the cheek of the large painting of Rosalind Tyra, one lands on the brow of the head butler.

“Why do you want this position, Miss Hershal?” The head butler asks. If he notices it, if his brow twitching is in response to the little bug, Vera does not know. She did not quite get his name, with the introductions having been drowned out by the flies' incessant din. 

Vera responds, but not in any way she can really articulate. Something about dreams, as if every moment in Vera’s life was leading to her dusting and cooking. The buzzing of the flies has turned musical almost, as if their wings were harmonizing with the dust in the air, in the oscillation of the light coming from dim bulbs, in the growl of her stomach. Work was hard to find in Mariposa, but the corporate lords pay well.

The head butler coughs again, this time with less politeness and more hoarse. It is stern enough to bring Vera back to herself, as if he knew she was somewhere else. “So, Miss Hershal.”

Vera looks back towards the butler, still straining one ear to listen to the buzzing. “Please, Vera is alright I think.”

Behind the head butler, Rosalind’s daughter taps her finger just once. Enough to be almost imperceptible, save for the fact that she had not moved this whole conversation. The head butler scowles just slightly. “We prize objectivity here, Miss Vera. We may be a family, but we need to keep things courteous.”

Vera nods, a slight, warm and red blush creeps across the bridge of her nose. “Oh, then yea, um. Miss Hershal works.”

Rosalind’s daughter smiles. Besides her foot is a hunter’s ax. It leans against her leather boot. And even at this distance, Vera smells something of ash. The head butler continues. “Out of all the applicants, you’ve been selected for Rosalind’s personal aide. You must feel honored.”

Vera nods. “Oh yes! Very, very.” Her voice is dripping with faux sincerity.

“Technically, you’re the personal aide for the Tyra family as well.” The head butler rejoined. “Including Crimson, here. You serve at their pleasure. Tyra Logistics and Transportation welcomes you.”

The woman behind the head butler smiles and raises a single finger in recognition. Her grin is plastered in red rouge. She opens her mouth to say something, her teeth are pearlescent, almost clear. A single smudge of the lipstick marks her canine. “Charles.” Her voice is soft, lacking in any of the formality that the head butler prided himself in. “I might be getting ahead of myself, but-”

Vera’s face dropped, her hands fidgeted in her lap. The fabric of her dress was threadbare and hand hewn, her boots, which were still tapping on the ground in tune with the fragrant buzzing, were had nails driven through the sole. “A-Ahead of yourself?” Vera manages to get out. She brings her hands to her mouth in shock at the interruption. Tyra smiles.

“Really, Miss Tyra?” The head butler nods, refusing to look over his shoulder at the corporate lord behind him. 

“Oh of course I’m sure.” Crimson rejoins. She looks back towards Vera. “I think I’m ready to welcome you to the family, my attendant.”

Vera looks back at the woman. Crimson’s face is unreadable. It has a smile on it, and narrow eyes. But no actual emotion is anywhere to be found. She reaches over to her discarded glass of wine on the end table beside her. It is red and full bodied. One of the flies has landed on the surface, struggling to break the surface tension. Tyra brings the glass to her lips as the fly thrashes, as if she does not notice. A single drop of the bordeaux lands on her cheek. Her skin is like cotton, it absorbs the wine just as fast. 

“There are, of course, responsibilities to the task.” The head butler rejoins. Crimson brings the wine glass just below her lips. The fly has stopped thrashing. Its buzz still rings, maybe even a bit louder. “An important position such as this can’t just go to anyone.”

“If you don’t mind me being so bold.” Vera asks, fighting back a smug smile. “If it's so important, why me?”

Crimson looks back towards the portrait behind her. Her mother’s kind face. It’s eyes are locked on Vera. Wine drips from the edges of Crimsons’ lips. The edge of Vera’s body was thrumming in time with the gnashing tune on the fly’s wings. She looks back up towards the vent in the corner of the room. A maggot falls out between the metal slats. Vera licks her lips slightly. Behind her, a single petal falls from off the chrysanthemum. The sound it makes while falling is the exact same note as the buzzing of the fly’s wings. Crimson scowles at the painting.

“Call it a mother’s intuition.” 

A pen click. The butler coughs. “Are you still interested?”

Vera turns towards the head butler and smiles. “Yea, I am, I think.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The servants quarters were surprisingly large. 

The last place Vera worked at, a home of a minor ambassador from a foreign land, was little more than a broom closet with a gas range. The air smells like sulfur and blood, laiden so thick that you could taste it on the back of your tongue.

The Tyra Manor did not smell like sulfur and the quarters had their own kitchen attached to it. Vera counted six additional bodies in the communal space. One was smoking a cigarette, one was playing chess with another. Each were young, attractive types, like Crimson Tyra was. Hard bodies, pretty hair. Obsessively clean, as well. One held a glass up to the light, his fingernails were bitten to stumps with not a speck of dirt or grime underneath them. That melodic buzzing could still be heard here, yet it didn’t seem to bother anyone in the room. Each of them were conversing, rapt entirely in their companionship. Vera could have been a fly on the wall for all she knew. She placed her bag on the ground next to the door, enough to be out of sight from the hallway, lest any of the Tyra’s see her belongings.

It was the man at the window between the kitchen and the common area who noticed her first. His teeth were perfectly aligned, and only slightly yellowed. His eyes had a slight band of copper between the iris and the sclera, and his eyelashes were long and inviting. He extended his hand up to beckon her further. It was at that moment, the other’s in the servants quarters turned to look at her. Not all in unison, mind you. But with a noticeable, almost deliberate delay in their towards her. Not unlike when an actor knows he is to be cut off in the script.

“New girl, right?” The man with the pretty eyes said as if they were waiting for her. Vera began walking towards him before he had even called her over. Yet when he spoke, when the words dripped from his mouth, she stopped, acutely aware of her movement. She felt them watch her and felt almost comforted by it. To be the center of their obsession, if but for a moment. The man continued, his smile still wide and boisterous.“Come come, get a drink in you.” 

She walks up to the window to the kitchen, as if this room was repurposed from some entertaining space. There were no stools next to the window, so Vera opted to stand. She wants to tell them she doesn’t drink, but can’t find it in her to lie. “Are we supposed to be drinking on the clock?” Vera asks instead.

“Bit of a teetotaler, hey?” The woman next to her responds. Her hair is auburn and she has long, slender arms. Her fingers are marred with scratches, each appearing now to only just be healing. Burrowing scars mark the length of her forearm. She sees Vera eyeing her and flashes her a coy smile. “Daphne.” She extends her hand towards Vera and she takes it. Her grip is delicate, and they hold for what seems a moment too long. 

“Vera Hershal.” Vera says almost off handedly. She still has not let go of her hand.

“You from Mariposa, Vera?” Daphne asks as the man with the pretty eyes fills a pristine glass with a slightly brown liquid. It sloshes around as if the consistency of syrup. 

“Who is?” The man with the pretty eyes chuffs, as if it was some grand joke.

“No, actually.” Vera smiles and takes her hand from Daphne’s to the glass. There is no discernible change in warmth between the two of them. “I’m from up north. Hinterlands. Near Verak.”

“You miss it?” Daphne asks, rolling her finger around the rim of her drink.

Vera takes hold of the drink in both of her hands. She rubs the ridge of the glass absentmindedly for a moment. The man with the pretty eyes leans forward a bit too far. So does Daphne.

“Do any of you actually hear that?” Vera finally asks. That buzzing, that droning, that gnawing sound. It was all Vera could do to actually pay attention to the two of them. It was at once melodic and dissonant, not altogether unpleasant. But its ever presentness, its continuity, flowed around hallways and into the rooms of Manor Tyra. There weren’t even any flies here, nor had she seen any in her walk down to the servants quarters. This place had looked scoured and clean, with hard pressed wood, treated with any sort of preservatives, and paneling placed at odd angles with secant points. The whole of the manor seemed to converge on what? All the pointing lines that focused on what? 

Daphne smiles. “No, not really.” Her thumb is pressing deep and hard into the ridge on the bottom of her drink. Vera furrows her brow. Her eyes dilate, her throat feels thick and full. Daphne looks over to Vera and nudges her with her own shoulder. “Not a lot of people regret moving to Mariposa, so I don’t blame you.”

Vera sighs and brings the cup to her lips. It is sweet, whatever is inside of it. Like rosewater, or hibiscus. Absolutely no discernable taste of alcohol. Like drinking liquified potpourri. Whatever grain or fruit the spirit was made from, this mixer almost fully masked its flavor. Vera, for a moment, closes her eyes, ignoring the frustration of being misunderstood building behind them. It does not taste like Verak. She is almost certain of it. But it doesn’t taste like Mariposa, either. She has had plenty of drinks in her stay here, and this certainly was not one of them.

“I’m Adrien.” The man with the pretty eyes finally coughs out. Vera opens her eyes and realizes just how long she had been drinking. The glass in her hands was half gone. “I’m the entremétier in the Tyra kitchen.”

“Which means he also cooks our meals too.” Daphne gesticulates towards the kitchen, glass still in hand. It was a small, cozy thing. Still unheard of in Mariposa, a kitchen for use only by the help staff. But the size of the Tyra manor almost required such atomization of labor. “He’s only typically on call when Tyra is hosting the Queen.”

“So it means, Miss Hershal, you’re stuck with me.” Adrien smiles and leans on the kitchen windowsill. His arms are toned and sinewy. He looks as if he’d be stringy, chalky in any sort of long standing soup. A thin, bristly mustache covers his upper lip, as if he was proud to be sporting it. “I hope the other’s like you just as much as the miss does”

Daphne snorts, undignified and beautiful. She is still shoulder to shoulder with Vera. “I think they will, yea.” She takes another drink. A fly, small thing with beady, crimson eyes, crawls from behind Daphne’s ear. Its wings harmonized with that buzzing that Vera could not get from out of her mind. If anyone saw it, no one made mention of it. The rest of the servants in the quarters were each obsessed with their conversational partners, enraptured with each other. The air was warm and sickly sweet. Like the potpourri that was at Vera’s mother’s wake.

“You’re so sure, huh?” Vera slightly bumps back into Daphne, separating the two of them for a moment.

“Yeah, you’re so sure, huh?” Adrien begins to pour himself his own drink. “You said that about the last girl, too.”

“What happened to her?” Vera asked.

“Rosalind liked her a little too much, so Crimson let her go.” Daphne sighed wistfully, as if she liked her just as much. As her mouth opened, that same buzzing came from inside Daphne. As if her lips were not making the same movements as they were before, like they were simply opening up for the noise to come out instead of forming the words themselves. “Our employer is a bit of a meticulous one.”

“Heard she works down near Le Marc street, in the lower wards.” Adrien lifts the liquor to his mouth and drinks it greedily. Liquid spills from the sides of his lips, his mouth open too wide for the mouth of the glass. His tongue lulls out the side.

“Nice one, too.” Daphne sighs, her voice almost drowned out by Adrien’s drinking. Like a pig drinking from a trough, guttural and wet. Vera looks at Adrien, at his bulging throat and his ragged breath when he takes the drink away from his lips. “Sweet girl, ya know? She brought a little basket of treats to introduce herself. Cared a bit too much. Cute little thing.” Adrien places the glass back on the table a little too forcefully, fills it again from the brown bottle, and then begins drinking again. The liquor spills around his hand, as if the act of pouring is foreign to him. He catches his breath. “Like, ah, you.”

“Is he-” Vera looks back at Daphne for a moment, then back at Adrien. His glass is on the table, he has resumed his previous position, resting against the counter. The glass is empty. It is dripping with condensation. A pool of liquid has formed from where he spilled the drink in haste. His hands are dripping wet. The words die in Vera’s throat.

Daphne raises an eyebrow. “Is he?”

Vera puts her own glass down.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“If you ask me, I think she has the Scarlet Song.”

The light is dim in their shared bedroom. Vera had, by chance, been assigned to the room that Daphne had been staying in. Two queen beds, facing each other on opposite sides of a room. In many of the workhouses of Mariposa, servants were assigned twin beds, as if to keep from any impropriety on company time. The walls were dark, with painted and stained wood paneling along the lower half of the wall. Vera had retired to bed some time ago, her arms behind her head as she stared at the ceiling.

When Daphne started to talk, Vera almost instinctively looked over to the corner of the room, on the side of where the door was. A single, budding chrysanthemum sat on an end table in that corner. It's leaves having all fallen off long ago, yet regrowing new ones outside of their budding season. She watches as a maggot crawls along the stem. Vera swears she sees it look at her.

“Scarlet Song?” Vera asks after exchanging glances with the maggot. She sits up in her bed, her nightgown feeling a bit too thin in the chill of the night’s air.

“Yea, Rosalind.” Daphne had already been sitting up, her arms wrapped around her knees. Her hair was up in a bun, her makeup had been removed. She had no wrinkles, at least less than she had during the previous day. Her hands were still immaculate, palms red from her repeated washing. “She goes out for a hunt in Blackvien years ago, then traps herself in her room.”

“Did you meet with her when you were hired?” Vera tilts her head to the side somewhat.

“Yea I did. We sat in the rose garden with her wife.” Daphne looks towards the dead chrysanthemum in the corner of the room, a plant she had been meaning to get rid of for some time. Its leaves have long wilted away. “She asked me some weird questions, then said congrats.”

“Oh,” Vera sighed. “Crimson and the head butler did my interview.”

Daphne sits up a bit higher. Her voice is still hushed. “See! That’s exactly what I mean.” She leans forward in the bed. “She goes on some hunting trip just before the last outbreak happened there. Comes back and locks herself in that room.”

“Or Crimson locks her in that room.”

“Might be.”

“Might be?” 

“Maybe she wants to keep Mariposa safe, or her mother safe.” Vera sighs and looks back towards the blooming plant. “It’s the disease of undeath, right?”

Daphne takes her arms from off around her knees and moves towards the edge of the bed. “Scarlet Song is a psychosocial illness. You don’t just catch it by being near someone who’s sick.”

“That wasn’t how I heard it spread.”

“Well obviously, if you’re around someone who’s sick, you might get sick.” Daphne rolls her eyes. Her iris glowed in the dim of the room. The way the stray light came in through the window, it almost made Daphne look like a cat you shined a light at. Red, like a photo caught mid flash. “But that’s only because you’re caring for them, because you pour so much into them.”

Vera brings her knees to her chest. The maggot begins to sing, harmonizing with the buzzing that had been blaring in her ears. “How do you get it then?”

“It worms its way into the parts of your mind that care.” Daphne finishes moving, sitting on the edge of the bed now. She was no more than a couple feet from Vera, but Vera could feel the warmth of her breath, the sickly, floral flavor on the tongue. Her lips were scarlet, her arms were slender and inviting. “Poisons your thoughts into obsession and infatuation. Makes you an object of desire, makes your vices just that much more apparent. Gluttony, lust, wrath.They call it the undead disease because of conservation of energy. All that obsession can’t just disappear once you die.”

Shambling corpses, replete of any desire but what was core to them.

“You hear voices, you see things, you misattribute motivations and feelings towards someone else.” Daphne gets up from off the bed. She is standing now, in naught but a night shirt. Her skin is translucent in the moonlight, like still water. Her eyes red and beautiful. “You could be infected, and just not know. It creeps into your mind, makes a vice of your heart.”

There is little now between their two beds, with Daphne standing square between them. Vera traced the lines of her shoulders, of her chin, of her lips. The edges of Daphne hummed and thrummed, as if their component parts sang with the maggot. Like a lichtenberg figure, Daphne seemed all secant lines. Convergent points, each inviting further study and obsession. Vera closed her eyes.“It almost sounds nice.”

Daph leans forward, towering over Vera on the bed. She raises a hand and, for a moment, Vera worries Daph might strike her. Her hand is now on Vera’s cheek, fingers finding themselves resting on her cheekbone. Vera, instinctually, bites Daphne’s palm. Daphne grips her head a bit tighter, blood running rivulets down into Vera’s hungry mouth. It is sweet, like the potpourri at her mother’s wake. Her other hand rests where Vera’s neck meets her shoulders, thumb placed gingerly just above her adam’s apple. Vera leans into the embrace, not sure whether Daphne will choke her or kiss her back. She would beckon either, readily and happily. Her skin was hot, roiling chaos. The cells across her body a throng of music, a veritable choir of blissful immolate. 

Daphne gasps, the heat proving too much for her. She opens her eyes and sees Daphne there, sitting on the edge of her bed, now seeming so far apart. Vera didn’t even notice her moving. Her skin was flush, her hands trembling, hand dripping blood onto her white gown. Daphne will not look her in the eyes, but a blissful smile is plastered on her face. She is shaking. “Yea, it does sound nice.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rosalind Tyra had a portrait of her wife on the bed stand next to her.

This was the first thing that Vera noticed when walking into the magnate’s room. Not the flowers that should have rotted months ago, not the empty plate picked clean of bones, not even the unmoving, veiled form that lay on the bed, covered by a single, white sheet. It was a simple photo, and the lights in the room had long been burnt out. A golden leaf frame surrounded the photo, with no glass covering it. The photo was yellowed and sour. Mary Tyra-Dayshaper was a young woman again, her hair it's natural blonde instead of the gray it was now. In the background, one of Rosalind’s kills at their chateau near Blackvien. Some grand reptile, head severed and blood dripping into a nearby patch of chrysanthemums. Mary was smiling, with a kind set of eyes. In her hair, a little flower pin. Sitting beside her, a child. Scarlet red hair and a bearded ax next to her. She was not smiling and she was staring a hunter’s stare at Vera.

The portrait was facing Rosalind’s bed, where she lay under a perfectly white sheet. No stains, like Vera had expected. No grime or muck or even dust. The room looked well kept, the room looked as pristine as the rest of the house. This is what Vera would be hired to do. To keep Rosalind company, to keep where she lays. Rosalind seemingly did not notice Vera’s entrance, even if the maid wasn’t particularly keen on staying quiet. As soon as she entered the small room, however, she felt almost reverent. As if her breaths must be measured as not to take too much oxygen, as if her feet must be kept in check lest it squash some beast underfoot. The stained glass window let in multi-colored light, trickling in and catching dust in its delicate beams. It was midmorning after a fitful night. The sky in Mariposa had that post-dawn haze, with nary a cloud in sight. Vera entered and shut the door.

The second thing that Vera noticed was the incessant, beautiful melody that had suffused the entirety of Tyra Manor had ceased as soon as she shut the door. It had become so much that Vera had almost tuned it out entirely by the time she woke next to Daphne this morning. And yet, in shutting it out, Vera had missed it in its absence. The walls vibrated, like being trapped in a room without air, like being stuck in the center of a storm. The silence rattles the wood, it rattles the bed frame, it rattles Vera’s bones.

“Good morning, Mrs. Tyra.” Vera says in a cloying affect like she was instructed. “Have you been sleeping well?”

The body does not respond. There is no rising and falling of the chest. Vera crosses the room gingerly. The tray in her hands rattles somewhat. The hem of her skirt rises with each step. Vera waits for a response that will never come. She places the tray down on the end table, next to the photo of Mary Tyra-Dayshaper. It is dried ham and it costs more than Vera will make that day. Mary is stout and elegant. Her sun kissed skin catches the Blackvien light just so and her hair smells of seabreeze and salt. 

“I have your meal.” Vera continues in rote repetition. Do not deviate, she tells herself.. “Will you eat it here or should we be expecting you down today?”

The body does not respond. Vera sits on the edge of the bed next to her in a fit of compassion. She was a nurse, before she was a maid. Back when money could be made in healing. She places her hand on the sheet almost absentmindedly, breaking the script. Perhaps she is just sleeping a bit tighter, perhaps she is just too cozy in the warmth of the morning. Vera creeps a smile as her hands reach the hem of the bedline.

“It’d be nice if you’d join us, I’m sure your daughter would-”

And that is when she hears it. The song. Not the disjointed choir of the maggots, not the single-noted sludge of the servants. But the whole of it. Every note, their counterplay, the harmonies, the sharps and the flats. It is like a cacophony of angels, like every tragedian of Mariposa was caught alight in a single, raptorious song. It is like screaming. It is like pain. It is like the crackling of ash and the dripping love of slavering mouths. It is incineration of the stars in the sky.

It is pure beauty and it drives Vera to tears. 

It drives her to the floor.

Sorrow was now burning into her cheeks. Her tears sublimating in time with the harmonies that now echo in her ears. She brings her hands to her face, as if she were to sob. A choked, painful note comes out of Vera’s mouth as the song stops, as she leaves Rosalind Tyra. She thinks she hears the whole manor scream.

The body does not respond. It sits there, mocking what obvious love Vera had felt come from her touch. This was not Rosalind as she knew Rosalind. Rosalind was the violent song that now dripped from her open mouth, not the meat sitting ripe and raw under the sheets. The song crawls from Vera’s pours like maggots. They stain the hem of Vera’s dress, mixing with the blood and bile that were pooling from her screaming, singing mouth. They are slick and inviting.

And then the discordance creeps back in.

Vera shoots her eyes towards the door as the incessant and beautiful song of the maggots is in her ears again, eyes burning from between her stained fingers. Red petals flow down her cheeks. And her mouth tastes only of song. In the doorway stands Crimson Tyra. Her boots are muddy and on her shoulder is a worn rifle. Its barrel still hot from the hunt. In her other hand, her dominant hand, her killing hand, was a hunting ax. It was bearded. It was dripping with ash.

“Did you do this to her?” Vera manages to get out as the song creeps behind her now fractiline eyes.

“I knew you’d break.” Crimson smirks, then quickly scowles. “What did my mother say?” Her voice is lacking any of the congeniality she once had. She takes a step forward, tracking the mud into the sickly sweet room.

Vera choked again, maggots spilling from her lips. She pulled herself forward. If only she could share this love with Crimson, maybe, maybe, maybe.

Crimson brings her boot down on what once was Vera’s hand, skin now splitting, unable to contain the flowers anymore. “I hired you for this reason, Miss Hershal.” Her voice was cruel, spitting and cutting. “Now, what did my mother say?”

“Sorry!” Vera sings, her bones breaking and eating away at her skin. “She says she’s sorry!”

Crimson sighs and frowns. She places the rifle on the floor. She hefts her hunting ax with both hands now. Its blade is dripping with blood. “That’s what she said the last time.” Crimson rejoins.

If Vera could just get to Daphne, just show her how beautiful this was when everything could be better. What once was Vera’s lips are replete with words and notes, some begging, some hateful, some pleading for violence. “I can make you! We can feel better!” Vera manages something coherent. “You need me! Love!”

Crimson smiles. She brings the ax above her head. Everything could be better, if she just opened her heart to the song. “I only needed you for this, Miss Hershal.”

Then, the body does not respond.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“We are in need of an entire new staff, Miss DuBois.” The head butler asks. Anne sat in front of him, her legs crossed at the ankles. Behind him, Crimson sat in her thick, leather chair. Behind them both, a painted portrait of Rosalind Tyra. “So, let me ask you. Why is it you want this job?”

Crimson smiles and taps her finger just once.

And the flies begin crawling from the vents.

[msclaritea]

The Power of the Gay Following | News | BET

https://www.bet.com/article/i3jvuj/the-power-of-the-gay-following

The Power of the Gay Following

Is the love some artists give the LGBT community genuine or just about garnering a strong fan base?

By Starr Rhett

June 30, 2011 / 4:00 PM

"On one hand, we live in a society that is still very homophobic despite some small progress. But ironically, the gay community drives some of pop culture’s leading trends. Even Samantha Jones in an episode of Sex and the City once said to budding actor Smith Jarrod, “First you win over the gays, then the teenage girls, then Hollywood will follow.” Tyra Banks, Kimora Lee and Naomi Campbell learned how to walk from a man, “Miss J” (J. Alexander). Patti LaBelle has a huge gay following, which was no surprise since her style borrowed a page from the book of drag queens. Derek J is one of the leading celebrity hairstylists in the country, probably the world, and the list goes on.

My point is, having a gay following can be beneficial to an artist’s career and while artists in the past may have gained said fans unintentionally, divas like Nicki Minaj, Lady Gaga and even rapper Lil’ B, have purposefully made it work for themselves. Here’s why: People will like them for being pro gay, which opens up chances to perform more places, and people who are anti-gay will still track their every move because they want to track their enemy. In other words, it’s a hate crush.

Most celebrities in today’s pop culture get famous because they either hopped on any bandwagon that rode by or because there’s some shock factor attached to their schtick. Lil’ B named his debut album I’m Gay, which in theory could be career suicide for a rapper. However, it turned out to be a smart marketing move because Lil’ B’s whole existence is based on outrageous behavior. By declaring that he is “gay"—which he has explained that he means it in the original sense of the word (“happy")—he is taking away some of the stigma that the word has developed over the past few decades. However, he still managed to piss some people off in the process. Lil’ B’s plan is working, albeit disingenuous.

Lady Gaga and Nicki Minaj are probably more sincere given each of their backgrounds, but in today’s blog culture it’s "cool" to be outspoken. Therefore, more artists will probably champion LGBT rights whether they are genuine or not. It’s a smart move either way you look at it because not only will they draw more attention to themselves, but it forces more people to talk and face issues (and their own feelings) that affects the gay community today, primarily marriage and bigotry. What better way to do it than through music, the language of the world?

Having a gay following can lockdown the longevity of an artist. So, all you up and coming pop stars, R&B divas and the occasional hip hop head, be good to the LGBT community and you might have a career like Janet Jackson, Chaka Khan, or Diana Ross."

Janet Jackson is all good, but my girl Chaka Khan has been a Scientologist for decades. Diana Ross' daughter? Is in American Fiction.

Meantime, Kim Cantrell is NO role model for women, if she can go along with encouraging us to give up our power, in such an underhanded fashion. Women invented fandom.

[kyiche]

Now that were all caught up were long overdue for some official introductions!

Tyra Martin~

Traits: Romantic, Self-Assured, Humble, Love Outdoors, Dreamer, Cheerful, Carefree, Freegan

Reward Traits: Strong Immune System, Tinkering Hobby, Waterproof Sim, Would Be Happy to Have a Child, Marketable, Always Welcome, Muser, Jester, Innocent

Emiliano Deluca~

Traits: Foodie, Loyal, Good, Proper, Determined, Cheerful, Perfectionist

Reward Traits: Normal Immune System, Nature Hobby (He Gardens and makes Flower Arrangements!), Waterproof Sim, Chronic Migraines, Neutral about Having Children, Alluring, Caregiver, Innocent

Bear Martin~

Traits: Carefree, Adorable

Reward Traits: Top Notch Infant, Child of Fall, Child of the Sun, Strong Immune System

Leroy Hackett~

Traits: Genius, Noncommittal, Snob, Warm Hearted, High Spirted

Reward Traits: Cuisine Hobby, Does Not Want a Child Right Now, Jester, Sage

Knox Greenburg~ (Emiliano's Best Friend)

Traits: Bro, Old Soul, Green Fiend, Lovers Outdoors, Self Assured

Reward Traits: Would Be Happy to Have a Child, Eco Master, Collector, Jester, Caregiver

Celene Lopez~

Traits: Outgoing, Neat, Affectionate, Ambitious

Reward Traits: Cuisine Hobby, Would Be Happy to Have a Child, Werewolf Ally, Gregarious, Jester, Sage, Friend of the Moonwood Collective, Friend of The Wildfangs

Blossom Greenburg~ (Knox's Mom but basically the mom of the whole group)

Traits: Creative, Freegan, Maker, Sincere, Optimistic

Reward Traits: Muser, Caregiver, Artist

Dawn Whimsy~

Traits: Feminine, Affectionate, Loves Outdoors, Family Oriented

Reward Traits: Weak immune System, Neutral about Having Children, Domestic, Caregiver

Thats All Folks~

[teachussomethin]

Focusing on Your Gifts

Your Gifts/You’re God’s Gift Dear Dreamers, Be yourself, beloved. NOTHING of quality comes from you trying to hide gifts that are rightfully yours. A few months ago, I heard a man say the only gift he had was his sewing machine. Yet, he is and has been an international manufacturer for the past 30 years. And, he said this as a horde of people sat around him waiting to applaud him for his hard…

[stephspurs]

ONLY ANGEL - A John Stones Fanfiction

STEPHSPURS. - THE MASTERLIST ONLY ANGEL - FANFICTION MASTERLIST

The lights go down, the room turns dark, a murmur of people still trying to find their seats settles into the otherwise silence. The floor to ceiling screen behind the runway awakens to show a video montage of arguably the most famous supermodels in the world. “It’s difficult being a woman, and other women understand that...but it’s also fun to be a woman and I think we should be able to own that”

The Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show is unlike any other in the world, it is the equivalent of the SuperBowl for supermodels. Bodies like Gisele Bundchen, Heidi Klum, Tyra Banks, grace the runway year in year out for the most-celebrated lingerie event in the runway calendar. A change of scenery for the traditionally American-based fashion show saw the glittery stage set up and a plethora of beautiful women touch down in London town.

Josephine Andersen, a 25 year old Danish-born supermodel found herself sitting backstage in hair and makeup, in a scantily-clad lingerie set with the iconic barely-there silk wrap adorned with the famous branding across the back of her shoulders and ‘Angel Josephine’ across her left side, right above her beating heart. Make no mistake, Josephine was meant to be here. She had worked hard every single day since the last runway event that she was fortunate enough to have walked in for the lingerie brand, to prove her rightful place as an Angel.

Yes, success is the direct result of hard work - and there was no denying that Josephine was a hard worker. She knew that she wasn’t special, and like most, she would have to work for what she wanted out of her life. What she didn’t know before going into the modelling industry at the ripe old age of 13, was that it was as mentally challenging as it was physical. Everyday was a constant battle between her head, her heart, and her agent. Nevertheless, she was aware of how difficult it was to be a woman, but she was also aware of just how fun it could be too.

John Stones, a 27 year old Barnsley-born (although his mate Kyle Walker would argue the point that his postcode says Sheffield but that's a story for another time) footballer for Manchester City Football Club, found himself sitting front row of the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show in London. He had never attended an event quite like it before, his mates sat either side of him ready to enjoy the spectacle that he didn’t think he would ever have the pleasure of attending. With the current season underway and the fact that his home club was a whole 4 hour drive away from his current location, it was a small miracle that the group of lads from Manchester were allowed to attend at all. These boys were down for a night of beautiful women, lingerie and getting up to no good.

The music started, the screen went black, the crowd erupted in applause for the first model through the parting screen - Angel Josephine. Strutting down the runway to Harry Styles' live version of Only Angel, John was mesmerised by the woman before him. She was working the crowd, sensual glances, little smirks, a cheeky grin here and there. Standing at the end of the runway, facing the abundance of cameras, Josephine gave her best smile and a confident wink to the camera before tossing her hair over her shoulder and proceeding to walk back up the runway.

John hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of the girl, he wasn’t sure he had blinked since she stepped foot out on the runway - if he closed his eyes for just a millisecond he would miss too much. He was addicted to her beauty, never having seen something so ethereal in his life. Maybe it was the atmosphere, maybe it was the champagne, but he honestly believed that there was an angel before him. Following her with his eyes as she walked back towards where he was seated, he made eye contact with her and she held it. Sending him a wink, and blowing him a kiss before smirking to herself and exiting the stage. She had no idea the effect that she had on the otherwise cocky man, she had reduced him to a puddle of mush, too intimidated by her beauty. The moment she was out of his sight, it was like he could breathe again, the sound that was previously muted around him returned to its full volume and his tunnel vision had widened to take in the whole show. Taking another sip of his champagne, he caught the eye of his best friend Kyle (yes, the same Kyle from earlier) who smirked and gave him a pat on the shoulder. Kyle had seen the whole interaction, albeit limited and largely one sided, and knew exactly what kind of trouble his friend could get himself into here.

Backstage Josephine was being ushered from the runway to the small curtain that was hanging from a clothes rack, providing a make-shift dressing room for her to strip off of the current segments undergarments and into the next set that had been so kindly draped over the top rail by one of the wardrobe assistants. Normally she would be thriving under the fast paced nature of the evening, the adrenaline pumping through her veins like a drug, however she was encumbered by her own thoughts of the devilishly handsome man in the front row. His eyes were engraved in the back of her mind, when she shut her own eyes she could see the intensity of his stare - it was numbing her, slowing her down. She was desperate for another glance at him, being brought back into the moment by the yell of a backstage hand asking for her to hurry and get into her next wings, she stripped and redressed. Was she lightheaded from the pressure that she had placed on herself to prepare for the evening, or was it because he seemed to take up all of the air in the room and space in her brain? She could argue that she was fulfilling her role as an Angel by winking at him and blowing him a little kiss. It was her job to flirt with the crowd and put on a show after all, but she knew exactly what her intentions were and they were nothing but devilish.

Perhaps the only event more iconic than the fashion show itself, the afterparty was what most people involved in the show looked forward to. The humans, even with their celebrity status, had the opportunity to mix with the angels - who, for one night only, let go of their halos and swapped them for horns. For one night, the beautiful women of the Victoria’s Secret Fashion show in all of their angelic glory; could be as bad as they dared to. This was the unspoken truth of the after party, and if you had the fortune of being able to attend, it was not an event easily passed up.

John found himself once again surrounded by his mates, mingling with the models and his celebrity pals alike. Not once had he forgotten about the first angel he had ever laid eyes on, he didn’t even know her name but by God did he know her body. It was as though the 30-odd seconds she was before him his eyes scanned her from head to toe, every curve of her body engraved into his memory. He could remember how the light reflected off of the body shimmer she had bathed in before walking the runway, how the curve of her waist continued at the perfect degree to complete her perfectly-sized derriere. Before long, he felt the room get smaller and smaller, the air was thicker and his hearing had started to muffle. She was standing in his direct line of sight - not that it would matter if she was standing on the other side of the room, behind a crowd of people, John’s eyes would find and fixate on her.

John watched as she worked the room, obligatory pleasantries flowing from her lips as she double kissed the cheeks of men who were old enough to be her grandfather. He watched their leather-like hands wrap themselves around her lower back, too low for his liking. He watched her smile and pretend that she was comfortable, but he could see the look behind her eyes scream that she shouldn’t trust their words - that they didn’t want to just buy her a drink. Without realising, his hands started to curl around his scotch glass until he had to put it down on the table before him and excuse himself from the company of his friends and the new company they had invited to their table. Weaving his way through the crowd, eyes never leaving the side of her face, he began to make his way towards her. No plan of action, nothing to say, anything would be good enough in an attempt to rescue her from what is looking to be her own personal version of hell. As though the universe had willed it, she looked into the crowd and locked onto the gaze of the tall man who was currently striding towards her. The look on his face told everyone around them that they weren’t to get in his way, to mess with him.

Reaching her, she held her breath and waited for his next steps. Josephine didn’t know what to expect, but the handsome smile that erupted from his previously pursed lips and filled up his face had sent her heart into a frenzy. For just that moment, she chose to believe that that smile was reserved for her and only her. Reaching forward and coincidentally knocking the older man’s arm from around her waist and replacing it with his own, he leant forward and planted a loud kiss to her cheek before wrapping her in a hug that warmed her soul. Her whole body pushed into his, she was unable to see his face but she could hear his heart and it told her that she was safe.

“I’m so proud of you, babe. I reckon I'm the luckiest guy in the room to be able to call you my girlfriend” He said into her ear, loud enough for the group of older men to hear and begin to talk amongst themselves after realising they had no chance with the Danish beauty, not that she ever gave them that impression to begin with.

Pulling away from the tall man, she looked up at him and gave him her best smile, a sincere smile. She ran her hands down from his back and found his hands that were placed on her waist, lacing their fingers together and pulling him off into the crowd to the bar.

“So, boyfriend, do you have a name?” She spoke whilst picking up the vodka on the rocks - not her favourite drink but it had little to no calories and anything that had a calorie count lower than her weight, which was difficult enough to find in the first place, was a win in her eyes.

“John, but I prefer to be called your boyfriend, even if it's only for one night” John spoke back to her, looking down at the angel who had covered herself up a bit more since the last time he had the pleasure of looking at her. However, the outfit she was currently wearing still allowed John’s mind, and eyes, to wander. A secret moment shared between the two in an overcrowded room.

PART 2. (smut warning)

[zelenacat]

When We Were Young- Chapter 28- An Obitine Story (almost content warning?)

Satine was overjoyed and terrified when she heard the news. She was sitting in a meeting with the Ruling Council when Obi-Wan called.

“Satine?”

The Duchess stood and excused herself.

“Mara and Tristan are safe,” Obi-Wan began calmly, “and-”

“Korkie?”

“They were holding him on a different planet, a Separatist World.”

Satine dropped the comm.

“Your Grace?”

“Parna,” Satine turned, “tell the Ruling Council that Tristan Wren and Mara Supreis have been saved.”

There were tears of joy from Ursa Wren, and congratulations for the safety of Parna’s niece.

“And the Duke of Sundari?”

Satine hadn’t realized she’d been staring at the wall, so she picked up her broken comm and returned to the council chamber.

“My apologies, Your Grace.” Count Awuad offered.

It was evident on her face then, Korkie had not been rescued.

“My,” Satine swallowed, “my Korkie, they’re holding him on a Seperatist world.”

“Where?” The Duchess let her eyes fall to the comm in her hand.

“Oh, Satine,” Ursa stood, “I’m so sorry.” 

“If Mandalore’s heir is not returned alive-”

“Silence,” Satine bellowed, “he will be.”

“Your Grace,” Countess Bralor continued, “you will likely need to produce an heir.”

Satine would’ve told them then and there, if Parna had not interjected and offered to fix her comm.

“Yes, thank you, Parna.”

“It would benefit Dooku if the Duke dies,” Countess Saxon ventured, “you have-”

“I could never marry the Count after this.” Satine countered.

“We should think about possible suitors,” Countess Eldar advised, “and the engagement should be officially broken off.”

“I agree.” Prime Minister Djarin added, as if Satine would disagree with the notion.

“We’ll set up a press conference, when the Duke of Sundari has been returned,” Satine decided, “in the meantime, I think we should all keep an eye on the news.”

“The-”

“Breaking,” Count Awuad’s comm beeped, “the mystery Sith Lord has been found!”

Countess Bralor raised an eyebrow. So did Satine.

“If the Jedi have their hands full,” Count Mudhorn frowned, “then what do we do about the Duke?”

“Perhaps if we help Death Watch, they will help us.” Satine suggested.

After the meeting, Satine was on her way to find Parna when Countess Bralor and Countess Saxon stopped her.

“A word, please, Your Grace?”

“Of course.”

A Countess walked on either side of the Duchess, looping their arms through hers.

“We have heard a rumor that may interest you,” Countess Bralor began, “it is about the line of succession.”

“Oh?”

“The Vizsla Clan and many in the underworld believe,” Countess Saxon interjected, “that you have children, and that they were the four teenagers taken by Darth Maul.”

Satine opened her mouth to defend herself.

“We are neither agreeing nor denying this rumor,” Countess Bralor continued, “but it is very dangerous.”

“I agree,” Satine nodded, “are there any other pieces to this rumor?”

“Some say,” Countess Saxon added, “that their father is none other than Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

The Duchess gasped at that.

“This rumor has much credence to it,” Countess Bralor frowned, “there are no adoption records for Tristan Wren, Mara Supreis doesn’t have her adoptive father’s coloring, and the Duke-”

“Ridiculous.” Satine growled.

“We are only warning you, Duchess,” Countess Saxon held up her hands, “times have changed since Queen Mara’s time.”

Satine nodded, “Thank you.”

Parna had fixed her comm, and the first call Satine made on it was to her sister.

“How can I help?” Bo-Katan asked.

“It’s you I’m worried about,” Satine frowned, “and these rumors.”

“You need evidence,” the warrior advised, “and I need a win.”

“What kind of a win?” the Duchess asked.

“You could always try to find out where Korkie is being hidden,” Satine offered, “prove your an opponent to worry about.”

“That’s a you problem-”

“Bo-”

“No,” the Lady shook her head, “I could never win that.”

“The Vizslas have criminal connections in the underworld, they’ve been spreading this rumor,” Satine suggested, “you could kill the contacts and stage the bodies.”

Bo-Katan looked pleased, “I like how you’ve changed sister.”

Satine squirmed, “Being a mother has made me so.”

“Ah, yes, how many was it?”

“Six.”

Bo-Katan’s eyebrows shot up.

“Bo-”

“Who would’ve thought?”

“Bo?”

“What?”

Satine opened and closed her mouth, “If I die-”

“You won’t.”

“My children, Bo,” Satine swallowed, “they’ll need help.”

Lady Bo-Katan Kryze was silent for a long time.

“Alright.”

Satine sobbed.

“Oh, ew.”

“Sorry, sorry,” the Duchess wiped her eyes, “good luck with your endeavors.”

Parna returned with Ursa Wren soon after Satine had finished her call.

“Your Grace.” the countess curtsied.

“The false DNA tests and birth certificate-” “I have them, and copies.” Ursa replied.

“Send me the copies,” Satine ordered, “we’ll release them when the rumors are written down.”

Within two days, those rumors gained footing and appeared in every Mandalorian gossip column. Fortunately for the Duchess, she was ready, two hours after Satine read the morning paper, Tristan Wren’s DNA test and birth certificate were released, as well as that of Mara Supreis. Tyra was quoted as saying the Jedi were her only family, and a statement from the Duchess herself reminded everyone that she raised her nephew out of familial love and duty.

“Such drama this will cause if it ever gets out.” Parna observed.

“It won’t,” Khaami stated, “the Duchess has done well thus far.”

Satine apprepricated that, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“Your Grace?”

Satine turned, Gorg was in his civilian clothes.

“Would you do me the honor of a final walk?” asked the foreigner guard.

The Duchess smiled, “Of course.”

They walked through the gardens, Khaami and Parna trailing at a distance.

“The said I should be the one to tell you-”

“Tell me what?” Satine wondered aloud.

Gorg smiled, “The Jedi Council commed just this morning, Korkie has been saved.”

“Oh,” Satine shook, beginning to bawl, “that is the most wonderful news.”

The former guard caught Satine as she slipped towards the floor. Her ladies ran up to her.

“Korkie is safe,” the Duchess breathed, “Korkie is safe!”

“He’s on Coruscant,” Gorg continued, “the Jedi are seeing to him.”

Parna helped Satine stand and the Duchess began to cry on her shoulder.

“Thank you, Gorg,” Khaami nodded, “we are most joyous at this news.”

“Thank you,” Gorg replied, “for all your kindness in my departure.”

The former guard kissed Satine’s hand one last time and left, then the Duchess made her way to her rooms.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” Parna smiled.

“Yes,” Satine nodded, “Khaami, please tell the Ruling Council.”

“Of course.”

Later that day, the Duchess held a short press conference to announce that the Duke of Sundari was safe.

“We don’t have all the details,” she stated, grinning, “but he is alive and healing among the safety of friends.”

Applause broke out from the reporters.

“Moreover,” Satine continued, “I would like to officially announce the dissolution of my engagement to Count Dooku.”

Cheers went up from a couple of attendants, which pleased the Duchess very much.

Satine stood, “Thank you for your time.”

That evening, the Duchess personally flew to Coruscant with Tyra to see her secret sons and daughter.

“It’s going to be okay, Lady Mother.” Tyra whispered, reaching for Satine’s hand.

“I just,” the Duchess sighed, “I can’t wait to see them.”

Inside the Jedi Temple, a line of masters were waiting to greet them. Master Secura embraced Satine and Tyra, saying they had both been so courageous.

“But so have you,” the Duchess smiled, “thank you for helping save my children.”

Master Mundi was next, and he gave a similar reception.

“Although,” he smiled, “next time you realize our children are courting, do let me know.”

Satine laughed, “Naturally.”

Master Yoda was the kindest of all, praising Tyra in his personal way and congratulating the Duchess with sincere happiness.

“Thank you, Master Jedi,” Satine curtsied, “my family is pleased to be reunited.”

“Follow me, you must,” the Jedi grinned, “to see your children and their father.”

“I would very much appreciate that.”

Mara and Tristan were sitting up in bed, each holding a bundle in their arms.

“Oh, oh, my children!”

Satine kissed each of the twins on the head, even Jynn and Lyra.

“Look how big you’ve gotten,” Satine cooed to the little ones, “do you know how brave your big brothers and sisters are?”

“Very brave indeed,” Obi-Wan walked in, “and there’s much to talk about.”

“Oh, Ben,” Satine huffed, “let them rest.”

Korkie had his arm in a sling and his face was bruised, “Mama-”

“Shh, darling,” Satine rushed over to her heir, “you must rest.”

“Mother-”

Satine grasped her son’s hand, “Yes?”

“He wants to tell you he’s happy to see you,” Tyra translated, “I can feel it in his mind.”

Satine kissed her son’s hand.

“Tell us what happened, can you?” Master Yoda asked.

“We all have different stories.” Tyra blushed.

Jynn gurgled and Satine moved to pick her up.

“Children,” the Duchess goaded, “I think you should tell Master Yoda your stories, however different they may be.”

Tyra began, telling about how she was left on Count Dooku’s ship.

“I was quite surprised when Je’er came,” Tyra swallowed, “I was surprised he cared.”

“Young Master Palpatine has been helpful,” Obi-Wan stated, “we have his father in custody, he’s quite the public speaker.”

The Duchess’ eldest daughter’s head snapped towards Tristan, “That’s not funny.”

Mara giggled, and Lyra harrumphed, Satine picked up the other twin in her arms, wondering what the children were on about. 

Obi-Wan burst forward to help, “Darling-”

Jynn raised her hands up to her father and squealed.

“Oh, look, Ben, she wants you to hold her.”

“Alright then, Jynn.”

“Tristan and I were held on Mustafar,” Mara jumped into the silence, “they wanted to study us as scientific specimens.”

“But why split you up?” Satine asked.

“To test us?” Tristan hesitated.

Tyra walked about and took Korkie’s good hand, nodding.

“They were surprised at Korkie’s ability,” her eyes watered, “they tried to get into his mind.”

The Duchess was filled with rage, her children were bruised and battered by this Sith Lord, she hated him.

“-and he thinks they were also testing Je’er.”  Tyra concluded.

Satine clenched her jaw, she would like some words with this Sith Lord.

“Tired, you must be,” Master Yoda observed, “show you to your rooms, Master Kenobi shall.”

“Thank you, Master Jedi,” Satine asked, “and will my daughters be able to stay with me?”

“Put in cribs, Senator Amidala has.”

The Duchess smiled, “I shall have to thank her.”

Her room was in the Senate rooms building, but close to the Jedi Temple. There were twin cribs, a warm bed, and a nice smelling fresher.

“Satine!”

“Oh, Padme,” the Duchess kissed both of the Senator’s cheeks, “you’ve been so kind.”

“I helped!” Anakin added, setting down a stack of towels.

Obi-Wan snorted, “I’m sure you did.”

Lyra squealed when she saw Padme and the Senator was thrilled.

“Oh, Anakin, look at her tiny fingers!” she cooed.

“Um-”

“And her little eyeses, aren’t you cute, Lyra?”

Lyra giggled.

“We’ll let you sleep,” Anakini decided, half-dragging Padme out, “the twins must be tired.”

Padme waved, “Bye-bye, babies.”

Satine made Lyra wave.

“Uh,” she sniffed, “change time.”

The Duchess made towards the fresher.

“Satine, I can do that.”

“No no,” Satine scolded, “I’m their mother, I should do this.”

It was messy, and Obi-Wan actually had to help her.

“You know,” Satine stated, “I generally left Korkie to his nanny when this happened.”

“That was my guess.” Obi-Wan agreed, setting Lyra down in her crib and picking up Jynn.

Satine was suddenly sad, “Did Tyra have a good childhood? I know Tristan had a nanny and Mara had a step-father.”

“I’m sure she did,” Obi-Wan assured, handing Satine a clean diaper, “I had a great childhood here.”

“That’s good to know,” the Duchess smiled, going misty-eyed, “I love them all so much.”

“I love them too.” Obi-Wan agreed.

Jynn went in her crib too, and Satine washed her hands.

“Ben,” Satine sensed with her back turned, “you have a question.”

“Am I staying,” Obi-Wan asked quietly, “because if you’re not-”

“Why wouldn't I be,” Satine shrugged, “Obi, we have six children.”

The Jedi gave a sheepish smile, “We do.”

“You’re staying with me for the rest of our lives.”

Obi-Wan kissed Satine, “I’m glad to hear it.”

The Duchess fell asleep very quickly cuddling with her Jedi, Obi-Wan didn’t, he listened to her breathing and thought about how lucky he was. When Satine woke up, her Jedi was meditating and the twins were resting, having woken up only once in the night.

“Morning, love.”

“Good morning, Obi,” Satine sat up, “where did Anakin leave the extra towels?”

“In a messy pile on the floor,” Obi-Wan answered, “are you interested in showering?”

“I am.”

The Jedi grinned, opening his eyes, “I’ll join you.”

Satine raised an eyebrow, “Will you?”

Obi-Wan bounced up, searching for kisses like a little puppy.

The Duchess sighed, “As long as we don’t wake the twins.”

The shower water was nice and warm, and Obi-Wan was very happy to have a moment alone with his Duchess.

“Is this,” he asked, his hands trailing her hips, “from the children?”

“Yes,” Satine nodded, hands on her stomach, “and I’m afraid so is this.”

Obi-Wan kissed his Duchess, “You’re beautiful, Satine, so beautiful.”

“Ben, please,-”

“You are,” the Jedi insisted, kissing Satine’s neck, “and we’re going to be together forever.”

Satine smiled, “Of course we are.”

One of the twins cried then, and the couple both dried off to tend to the little ones. Ben was out first, so Satine had time to dry her hair fully before dressing.

“Where’s your lady?” Obi-Wan asked, opening Satine’s bags.

“Helping stabilize Mandalore,” the Duchess answered, “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s a rumor going round that the children taken belonged to us.”

Obi-Wan sighed.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Satine scoffed, “we can handle it.”

“But your people will be upset.” Obi-Wan protested.

“Not as upset as I would be if we couldn’t be together.” Satine countered.

Obi-Wan gave a wholeful smile to his Duchess.

“What?”

“I’m so glad I’m leaving the Order when the war ends.”

“Well,” Satine teased, “make sure you finish it quickly then.”

Obi-Wan was actually very helpful with Satine’s corset, which she couldn’t do up on her own. 

“Why-”

“To hide the fact that I gave birth five months ago,” Satine explained, “also, I’m not as thin as I once was.”

Obi-Wan clicked his tongue, “Oh, Satine.”

“Six children, Ben,” the Duchess wagged her finger, “I know who’s responsible.”

The Jedi laughed, “Glad to know you care, darling.”

Obi-Wan was also kind enough to help Satine into her dress and button the back.

“You do this every day?” he asked, bewildered.

“Today is a nicer dress,” Satine smiled down at her green and gold ensemble, “because I’m visiting a planet.”

“Ah.”

Obi-Wan got dressed while Satine fixed her hair, and soon enough, the day began.

“What’s happening for you today?” she asked, picking up Jynn.

“Lots of explaining to the public about what happened over the last couple days,” the Jedi answered, “and then protecting the senate from these new Seperatist attacks.”

Satine groaned, “Sounds full.”

“You?”

“I have to bring Korkie, Mara, and Tristan home,” Satine frowned, “but I have the morning to speak to senators about Mandalore’s new position.”

“Just as droll, honestly.” Obi-Wan stated, picking up Lyra.

“See you for lunch?” Satine asked hopefully.

“I’ll meet you here,” the Jedi agreed, “with food.”

Obi-Wan took the twins back to the other Jedi younglings while Satine went in search of Padme.

“Hi, Momdalore!”

“Ahsoka,” Satine smiled, “good to see you.”

“I’m supposed to accompany you around,” the Padawan clapped, “I’m so excited.”

The Duchess gave Ahsoka the side eye, “I hope you don’t mind schmoozing senators.” 

“Actually,” the Padawan winked, “I smooch Padme all the time.”

Satine laughed, “Not quite, Ahsoka.”

“So,” Ahsoka goaded in a sing-song voice, “do you have any new news, Satine?”

“No, Ahsoka,” the Duchess scolded, “no more for me.”

“Aw, but you make the cutest babies with-”

“Ahsoka!”

The Padawan burst into laughter. Satine sighed.

“You and Anakin think you’re so funny.”

“We are,” Ahsoka assured, “have you heard the story about the time my Master covered the temple in balloons for Master Yoda’s birthday?”

Satine found herself mildly amused, “Did something terrible happen?”

“Yes, terribly hilarious!”

“Then that’s all I need to know, however,” Satine grinned, “if you ever need a funny story, ask your grandmaster about the time we hid in a house of ill repute while on the run.”

Ahsoka’s eyes went wide, “No?”

“Yes.”

“Wow,” the Padawan shook her head, “you must tell the best drunk stories, Momdalore.”

“I don’t get drunk, Ahsoka.” Satine replied.

Ahsoka frowned.

“But if I did,” the Duchess winked, “someone better warn Master Kenobi.”

Ahsoka giggled.

“If I may ask,” Bail Organa approached, Padme on his arm, “what’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” the Duchess and Padawan agreed simultaneously.

“Well then,” Padme smiled, “why don’t we round up some Senators and discuss politics.”

“Why don’t we?” Satine agreed.

The Duchess was very much looking forward to lunch after hours of pleasant conversation and polite nodding, and apparently, so was Obi-Wan.

“Darling,” he opened the door for her, “do come in.”

Satine gasped. A beautiful table was set up with candles and napkins and Satine’s favorite juice which was a terribly expensive import. The curtains were drawn to give them privacy, but the Duchess had to laugh at the food.

“Dex’s Diner.” she shook her head.

“Gotta love ‘em.” Obi-Wan agreed, pulling Satine inside.

The food was actually delicious, the Duchess could not lie.

“Is this where you go after late nights of saving the galaxy?” Satine questioned.

“Uh huh,” Obi-Wan nodded, mouth full, “where do you go?”

Satine raised an eyebrow, “The palace kitchens.”

“Oh.”

The Duchess snorted.

“Careful, darling,” Obi-Wan teased, “soon you’ll lose all your manners and end up like us Jedi.”

“Oh, I could never,” Satine gestured, “I don’t have an uncivilized luminescent wand.”

The Jedi rolled his eyes, the Duchess stuffed herself with more breakfast food.

“You know,” Obi-Wan began, “our children might have uncivilized luminescent wands.”

“They will not,” Satine crossed her arms, “you’ll make sure of that.”

“Will I?”

“Yes,” the Duchess sighed, “because I have had enough of this force nonsense and I’m delegating you to oversee our children’s education in that field.”

Obi-Wan glowed, “Really?”

Satine smiled, “Yes, Ben.” 

“Uncivilized luminescent wands it is,” Obi-Wan clapped, “can I get you some more juice?”

“Please.”

They ate in happy silence before Satine burst out.

“They delayed our ship,” she grinned, “we’re not leaving till four.”

“More time together,” Obi-Wan’s eyes sparkled, “I wonder what we’ll do?”

“Obi!”

“Just saying,” the Jedi shrugged, “uncivilized wands and all.”

Satine acted horrified, “Obi-Wan Kenobi!”

“Not sorry.” the Jedi winked.

The Duchess played along, “Where do you have to be?” 

“A defense detail, but Anakin can cover for me.”

Satine raised an eyebrow, “He’ll want a reason.”

Obi-Wan clicked his tongue, “I wonder what I’ll say.”

Finishing her meal, the Duchess stood and knelt before Obi-Wan.

“Well, shall we get on with it, then?”

“Certainly,” Obi-Wan undid his robes, “but I won’t be kind.”

Satine sighed, “How chivalrous.”

[itspileofgoodthings]

Let’s all applaud Tyra’s self-control for turning down Tim Riggins coming to her with his heart in his hand and in his eyes saying softly and completely sincerely “it would be so different this time”

[tosikoarts]

SFW Alphabet | Vasily

You can check tosikowrites tag for more as well as you can send character suggestion for SFW alphabet. Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Caught in Japan mute and technically deaf, since people speaking Russian are a quite rare finding in Hokkaido, Vasily is limited in his expression of affection. Obviously, first thing that comes to mind is communication though his amazing drawings but they are static and, therefore, lacking small details that are so important in dialogue. So he pays much more attention to non-verbal part of communication (probably unknowingly) to win a person.

He tries to sit by their side, not opposing but not siding, just right to attract attention. When “talking” to them, Vasily’s eyes become hundred times more expressive: he raises eyebrows in shock, frowns to show misunderstanding or anger, bulges eyes in surprise, squints eyes in disbelief. He has no idea what they are saying unless they draw responses as well. In all other cases Vasily trusts his guts, their general looks, and tone of the voice.

Speaking of drawings. We all can agree Vasily secretly draws them and hides pictures everywhere. He always keeps one, the best one in his opinion, close to the heart. Sugimoto found one of portraits and Vasily waved his arms so hard that he almost took off, but Saichi just smiled and promised to take his secret to the grave. Vasily will definitely show his creations to them when the time comes.

Physical affection. It is so hard. He needs a lot of clues to avoid awkward situations. No hugs, no big skin-to-skin contact unless he is at least 50% sure in their consent. Such low percentage because how much can you tell in situation like his? Vasily loves to be close to them and gets overly excited when they initiate holding hands even if it’s only for a few seconds.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He is such an unpredictable friend to be honest. You never know what to expect. Today he disappears into thin air just to fall on your head tomorrow with a weird-looking kettle. It’s a new shiny samovar! Now you can drink real tea!

Vasily will follow you anywhere. Just call him, and you will have the best travel companion in the whole world. During the trip, he collects various trinkets and wraps them into his sketches. He drags you to the most crowded places where all fun takes place. Let’s skip the fact that “fun” is not always safe.

Before Vasily met Ogata, he loved to sing in a company. His bass-baritone was a gem of any gatherings and worked on girls like a charm. Now Vasya can’t say a word but you can catch him humming unfamiliar melodies from time to time. If his friend joins in singing, Vasily will clap hands in admiration.

The best around to get drunk with. His self-control is commendable since Vasily knows exact amount of alcohol he can take. He is in charge of bringing everybody back to camp if they decide to take a walk and slapping their hands when they reach for another glass. Not a mother type. His control extends only to drinking.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Classical big spoon and won’t let them be one if they are smaller than him. Vasily likes to cuddle but short cuddling annoys the hell out of him so his ideal cuddle session has to last at least half of hour without any interruptions. He also likes when partner lies on his chest. This position gives Vasya chance to slowly rub their back, ruffle their hair or play with it.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He… never thought about it? Despite widespread Slavic tradition of having large family and house in which sound of children’s stomping never dies down, Vasily never discussed settling down or getting married with anyone. It is not like he is not capable of living sedentary way of life, it just wasn’t relevant. Vasily needs someone to push him towards changing his lifestyle if they want to settle down in a future.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Unlike the others, Vasily can’t explain himself and simply say “well, it won’t work out, let’s stay friends”. So he gives up trying. There are only two options:

In first Vasily slowly distances himself from them, growing abyss gets increasingly noticeable every next day. In the beginning, he ignores them loudly calling his name in the woods. Then he stops to turn around to their voice, he looks away just not to look them right in the eyes. The more assertive person is, the more they resist his cold treatment, the harsher Vasily becomes.

In second Vasily abruptly leaves country and goes back to Russian Empire. No notice. Nothing. The only reminder of his existence is a trail of shallow footprints in the snow and one or two drawing he did not manage to burn.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Once again, he haven’t thought about it at all. If his loved one brought up a marriage, Vasily would need to have a mental sit down. There is a ton of responsibilities hidden under the marriage concept, it makes ephemeral bond between two dryly official, but Vasily, will marry them if it will make them happier. He is ready to pop a question after two years, and only after another person shows their interest in it.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Stoic and collected in a professional sense but sincere and rough-ly gentle in everyday life. Turgenev, a Russian novelist, wrote that a real Russian has a heart of a child, and Vasily surely falls into this category: behind the image of a cold-blooded sniper hides a personality prone to vivid sensual experiences. He holds loved one like the most precious thing in the world and cares for them deeply.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Loves hugs with all his heart. After long time apart Vasily will squeeze them in a bear hug, leaving their legs hanging freely in the air. During the day Vasily likes to randomly come up from behind and place hands on their waist or thighs, while resting his chin on their shoulder or head. If his partner is teeny-tiny he can’t resist the urge to place them between his legs, their back to his chest, and press them closer, hiding them in his big ass coat.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

After good interpreter magically appears on the horizon? In any case, if he tries to do it without someone who understands Russian, you’ll get funny pantomime accompanied by sighs in different keys. He will write “Я люблю тебя” under another portrait just to get upset that nobody understands him.

It depends not on the time spent together but on events that they lived through, so it may take from one month to few years. By the time Vasily feels like saying “I love you” they probably realize it by his amorous behavior.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Patient jealous type. But before we get to it, let’s say few people will take a risk and flirt with a partner of such a mysterious stranger. He carries a riffle, which means he shoots living creatures. Nobody wants to get shot, okay. One can hit on his partner and pray nobody points to it. When it happens, Vasily takes a silent stand behind his loved one and just stares at love rival until they go away. If it doesn’t help, Vasya may flip and take person to the ground with one hard blow. He keeps poker face the whole time.

His partner is flirting with someone? Gets touchy and lovey-dovey? After long  monitoring and accepting an unpleasant fact, Vasily bounces back and forth between the stages of denial and anger. Next days he shoos them away with a hand gesture and tortures himself, overthinking if it really was what he thought it was. Puppy eyes and gentle pats are usually enough to calm him down.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

In the beginning Vasily dodges kisses like Neo does bullets. Very unobtrusively all attempts to kiss him come to naught, he rises hand in stop sign or turns around, tightening bashlyk in hurry. Not that he doesn’t want to, he is just afraid. No, not that they will gasp in fright or find scars on his cheeks ugly. He is afraid of pain. Thought of someone touching his face sends unpleasant tingle down to the jaw. Given the physiological position of the tongue and teeth, you can imagine what that bullet… well, better not.

Later Vasily relaxes enough to let them kiss him in the forehead. In return he nuzzles in their hair or neck or anywhere they allow to. As long as they are satisfied with such a surrogate, he is chill and forgets about his deformation.

One day Vasily surrenders to their wishes and lets them unwrap bashlyk like a birthday present. He closes eyes in praying for gentle touch. After realizing the light touch on the lips does not cause pain Vasya develops much more positive attitude towards kissing. Now he kisses them himself, hooray. On the nose, one the cheeks, on the lips. No tongue tho. He prefers to do it in private, far from prying eyes.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

For some vague reason kids seem to really like him? They love his silence and smiling eyes (Tyra Banks is proud of you, sweetie) just as much as his willingness to play with them. Vasily sees no problem to run around enjoying games that have Russian equivalent: kakurenbo/hide and seek similar to “прятки” and janken/rock paper scissors is identical to “камень, ножницы, бумага”. Moreover Vasily’s physical states are impressive: he throws kids in the air and catches them like it’s nothing, spins them around until he gets dizzy, etc. Feels more comfortable to play with little kids and toddlers than teenagers.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Immediately after waking up, Vasily gets up and thoroughly stretches. Usually his partner is still asleep so he has some time to do some housework. In summer and spring, Vasya grabs a scythe and mows overgrown weeds near the house, in fall he cuts firewood for the next season, and in winter you can catch him by the window, looking at endless white fields where he doesn’t have anything to do! After morning routine is over, he greats now woken up partner with a temple kiss and together they decide what to cook for breakfast.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Likes to enjoy privacy of his home. After the list of useful (and not so useful) things has been done, Vasily wants to bury his face in the partner’s neck and relax. He is all about tea party with fresh baked buttered buns, inept massage, cuddling with fingers intertwined. If night out occurs, it is a casual walk around the city/village with a purpose of catching hot news and exchanging niceties.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Vasily has his soul wide open and is ready to tell his partner about the past, family, friends, traditions, and many-many other things, but does he really have an opportunity? During the journey, Vasya tries to get around the inability to speak by drawing and pointing to somehow related items but it rarely makes any sense. In general, he does not dump everything at once so he can back to topic and start conversation from where they left it.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He has a good understanding that cool head is a main tool in problem solving. You can annoy Vasily as much as you like, he will just shrug his shoulders and shake his head because there’s no point in responding aggressively. In the event of a serious incident (category includes betrayal, treason, encroachment on something important to him) Vasily will hold strong emotions back anyway. It is not that he doesn’t want to tear wrongdoer to pieces, no. He will do it, directing all the destructive power of hatred into action itself.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Great memory, especially visual memory that helps him to find way back to camp or hotel without asking for anyone’s help. Vasily’s watchfulness plays a big role in interaction with others, especially with loved one. Did their gaze linger on a certain stuff? Was it flower? Weapon? Some sort of food? What was their facial expression? He picks up whether they press received present to the chest or try to hide it as soon as possible. Vasily may surprise loved one with a gift that they were staring in the shop but didn’t buy even after few months pass.  

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The time is far past midnight. Heavy clouds cover the sky over the river valley, and the only source of light are anvil crawlers, sprawled between bare branches of oaks and beeches. Vasily is wide awake. Rolling thunder has nothing to do with it. He is too concentrated on a person quietly snuffling on his chest. They are so close. He is so happy. He feels… important? Special? Lucky? When they wanted snuggle up to someone in seek of protection, they went to Vasily. Not to Sugimoto whose yell fills people with a primal fear. Not to Shiraishi whose dumb jokes can distract from looming threat. To him. Vasily keeps wondering how his loud heartbeat didn’t wake them up. He can’t wait for a morning to plant a dozen kisses on their cute sleepy face.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

It completely depends on another person’s self-defense skills. If they can take care of themselves, Vasily won’t worry much. They are not a child to have someone watching their every step. If they are less skilled, then he will keep an eye on them. One dirty look is enough for Vasily to become alert and sneak closer to the partner. He will try to avoid a direct confrontation but if it is impossible Vasily will aim for a head.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

The very presence of Vasily in another country is an endless trying so he is used to give his best. Most of Vasya's time is spent on picking social clues and particular interaction qualities between Japanese people, comparison with those in his own culture, and application of synthesized results in his own relationship. For example, if there’s a chance Vasily would buy them the sweetest marshmallow from famous Abrikosov confectionery concern, but following Japanese tradition he would… well, he’ll stick to Russian presents until he spends enough time in Japan. Doesn’t care about anniversaries so do not expect extra effort.  

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

It can be difficult for a serious person to be with Vasily because of his childish behavior. Yes, it's fun to fool around with the person from outside that is in such a sad position that he has no other choice but to laugh. Only at some point will it seem stupid and unreasonable.

Still, in the Slavic countries, a man has always been considered the leader of the relationship and his opinion was put above all others. Sometimes Vasily tries to change his partner and impose his vision of the world on them. He doesn't look like an strictly uncompromising individual but Vasily may have a little bit of this in him.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Comfort and warmth are the main criteria for Vasily when choosing clothes. In addition, face protection is important to him as well because a good soldier knows how to cover his weaknesses and leave opponents without any benefits. Vasily values his sideburns and takes a good care of them himself. In addition, he is aware his blue eyes are hypnotic secret weapon of Russian Empire and they are another thing he really likes in own appearance.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Crossing the border illegally, he didn’t expect to make friends in the first place, leave alone jumping into romantic relationship. Ending up cuffed instead of having a little fun as a side mission in spontaneous sniper hunt surely leaves him attached. Attachment leads to hurt. If they decide to end the relationship Vasily’s feelings are crushed. You can catch the moment of realization: his shoulders drop and eyebrows rise in surprise as he takes step back. That’s okay. Vasily doesn’t hold grudges. His behavior remains positive despite being hurt.

If they were killed, Vasily will cross the whole damn country to find the culprit. He will search every corner, turn every stone to make them pay. Only then Vasily will allow himself to mourn properly, pray for them. After returning back home, he will light a candle in their memory during each church visit.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Vasily is far from “innocent” persona people try to picture him. His disability and unfamiliar environment gave him a great disguise but Vasily is sniper, he is deadly. Given his size and physique, Vasya, probably, can suffocate person with single hand, and squeaky sound of leather gloves friction sends goosebumps down his spine.

Corporal punishment was allowed up until 1904 both in army and navy of Russian Empire. I can see Vasily as someone who got into minor troubles but was disliked by his mentors so he got a bit of whipping, flogging, maybe, even running the gauntlet. His back is covered in merely visible thin white and pink lines.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Controlling partner is a big no-no. There are people that tolerate their loved one directing everything, gently pushing towards favored decisions, but Vasily isn’t one of them. It irritates him to the point where Vasya crosses his hands on the chest and throws a mum fit.

Vasily is a smart man, Vasily knows that good things take time. That’s why he can’t imagine himself with an impatient person by his side. In addition, you’ll need patience to deal with his forced silence that prevents intelligible communication.

Pretence. Mostly because Vasily can’t get why would you fake something? It doesn’t make you successful person, it just make you a liar.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Doesn’t care where to sleep while it’s still dark. As soon as the first sunbeam hits his face, Vasily quickly jumps on his feet and gets to work. Same goes for any other light source like candle, lamp, torch. Prefers to doze with rifle by his side so that in the case of danger he could easily protect himself and others. Also Vasily sleeps exclusively on his back to minimize face contact with hard surfaces.

The thought of his homeland makes Vasily's heart ache, mostly because he misses sleeping on the Russian stove (remember “печка”?). There’s nothing even close to the heat it radiates. He just wants to curl on the stove and eat fresh kalaches.

Sleep quality is inversely proportional to the presence of dreams. It is easy to understand that Vasily had one: his face expresses complete detachment, and in his eyes you can see immeasurable sadness.

[antheminmyheart]

Master List of Black Creators, Owners, & Public Figures

Master List of Black Creators, Owners, & Public Figures

DISCLAIMER: I am fucking whiter than white. I compiled this list to boost black creators and public figures, but if I am overstepping at all PLEASE let me know! 

Also, I tried to research these in a timely manner. If anyone in these lists is problematic or should not be supported, let me know. :)

(Of course, this is only a TINY portion! Feel free to add more names, businesses, and creators!)

——

Activists:

��Naomi Anderson

•Maya Angelou

•James Baldwin

•Lillie Mae Bradford

•Mari Copeny

•Frederick Douglass

•Ruth Ellis

•Erica Garner

•Alicia Garza

•Ernest Green

•Fannie Lou Hamer

•Frances Harper

•Langston Hughes

•Marsha P. Johnson

•Alberta Odell Jones

•Quincy Jones

•Martin Luther King Jr.

•Audre Lorde

•Bree Newsome

•Huey P. Newton

•Rosa Parks

-Bayard Rustin

•Sojourner Truth

•Harriet Tubman

•Madam C.J. Walker

•Ida B. Wells

•Malcolm X

Actors/Actresses & Directors:

•Yahya Abdul-Mateen II

•James Avery

•Angela Bassett

•Halle Berry

•John Boyega

•Levar Burton

•Nick Cannon

•Michael Clarke Duncan

•Zendaya Coleman

•Terry Crews

•Viola Davis

•Idris Elba

•Jamie Foxx

•Morgan Freeman

•Whoopi Goldberg

•Tiffany Haddish

•Skai Jackson

•William Jackson Harper

•Kevin Hart

•Steve Harvey

•Jennifer Hudson

•Ice Cube

•Spike Lee

•Phill Lewis

•Bernie Mac

•Eddie Murphy

•Keke Palmer

•James Pickens Jr.

•Chris Rock

•Will Smith

•Raven Symonè

•Denzel Washington

•Jesse Williams

•Chandra Wilson

•Oprah Winfrey

•John Witherspoon

Authors & Poets:

•Elizabeth Acevedo

•Tomi Adeyemi

•Kwame Alexander

•Maya Angelou

•Rena Barron

•Paula Chase

•Dhonielle Clayton

•Brandy Colbert

•Jay Coles

•Dana Davis

•Tanita S. Davis

•Sharon M. Draper

•Paul Laurence Dunbar

•Akwaeke Emezi

•Sharon G. Flake

•Kristina Forest

•L.R. Giles

•Whitney D. Grandison

•Nikki Grimes

•Justina Ireland

•Tiffany D. Jackson

•Kimberly Jones

•Claire Kann

•Kekla Magoon

•Janice Lynn Mather

•Tony Medina

•Candice Montgomery

•David Barclay Moore

•Britney Morris

•Bethany C. Morrow

•Greg Neri

•Nnedi Okorafor

•Tochi Onyebuchi

•Morgan Parker

•Junauda Petrus

•Ben Philippe

•Jason Reynolds

•Debbie Rigaud

•Ilyasah Shabazz

•Nic Stone

•Liara Tamani

•Mildred D. Taylor

•Angie Thomas

•Brian F. Walker

•Booker T. Washington

•Renée Watson

•Alicia Williams

•August Wilson

•C.E. Wilson

•Ashley Woodfolk

•Jacqueline Woodson

•Nicola Yoon

•Ibi Aanu Zoboi

Black-Owned Bookstores:

•Grassrootz Bookstore (Phoenix, AZ)

•Eso Won Books (Los Angeles, CA)

•Malik Books (Los Angeles, CA)

•Marcus Books (Oakland, CA)

•Shades of Afrika (Long Beach, CA)

•Shop At Matter (Denver, CO)

•Pyramid Books (Boynton Beach, FL)

•For Keeps Books (Atlanta, GA)

•Bunnie Hillard (Decatur, GA)

•Challenges Games & Comics (Decatur, GA)

•Semicolon (Chicago, IL)

•Wild Fig Books (Lexington, KY)

•Frugal Bookstore (Boston, MA)

•Loyalty Books (Silver Springs, MD)

•Loving Me Books (Detroit, MI)

•Source Booksellers (Detroit, MI)

•Mind’s Eye Comics (Burnsville, MN)

•Eye See Me (St. Louis, MO)

•Source of Knowledge (Newark, NJ)

•The Lit Bar (The Bronx, NY)

•Cafe Con Libros (Brooklyn, NY)

•Megabrain Comics (Rhinebeck, NY)

•The Schomburg Shop (Harlem, NY)

•Sister’s Uptown (New York, NY)

•Fulton Street Books (Tulsa, OK)

•Third Eye Bag (Portland, OR)

•Amalgam Comics (Philadelphia, PA)

•Harriett’s Bookshop (Philadelphia, PA)

•Uncle Bobbie’s (Philadelphia, PA)

•Turning Page Bookshop (Goose Creek, SC)

•Black Pearl Books (Austin, TX)

•The Dock (Fort Worth, TX)

•Loyalty Books (Washington DC)

•MahoganyBooks (Washington DC)

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•228 Grant Street Candle Company (228grantstreet.com)

•Aamir Graphics (jaizthedesigner.mystrikingly.com)

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•Total Resistance (thetotalresistance.com)

•Tree Fairfax (treefairfax.com)

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•Unlimited Treasures Chest (utchest.com)

•Unsun (unsuncosmetics.com)

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•Urban One Inc. (urban1.com)

•Victor Glemaud (glemaud.com)

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•Yowie (shopyowie.com)

•Zafa Wines (zafawines.com)

•Zou Xou Shoes (zouxou.com)

Book Reviewers:

•Black & Bookish

•Black Books Matter

•Bookaddict4real

•Brazen Babe Reviews

•Doddy About Books

•Fine Point Scribbles

•Kaybee’s Bookshelf, A Literary Blog

•Literally Black

•Ms. Shabria Gxo

•Sometimes Leelynn Reads

Models:

•Adwoa Aboah

•Adesuwa Aighewi

•J. Alexander

•Karen Alexander

•Leomie Anderson

•Alanna Arrington

•Yasmine Arrington

•Tyra Banks

•Corey Baptiste

•Tyson Beckford

•Yasmin Benoit

•Akech Bior

•Minah Ogbenyealu Bird

•Maria Borges

•Adonis Bosso

•Cindy Bruna

•Naomi Campbell

•Dorothea Church

•Yaya DaCosta

•Agbani Darego

•Bruce Darnell

•Khoudia Diop

•Nadège du Bospertus

•Jourdan Dunn

•Selita Ebanks

•Paloma Elsesser

•Cora Emmanuel

•Staniel Ferreira

•Malaika Firth

•Diandra Forrest

•Imaan Hammam

•Winnie Harlow

•Beverley Heath-Hoyland

•Marsha A. Hunt

•Broderick Hunter

•Chanel Iman

•Beverly Johnson

•Toccara Jones

•Grace Jones

•Liya Kebede

•Jayne Kennedy

•Janet Langhart

•Shakara Ledard

•Precious Lee

•Noémie Lenoir

•Damaris Lewis

•Sessilee Lopez

•Donyale Luna

•Anais Mali

•Eva Marcille

•Denny Mèndez

•Jillian Mercado

•Ariel Meredith

•Lineisy Montero

•Muna

•Katoucha Niane

•Mayowa Nicholas

•Emanuela de Paula

•Lais Ribeiro

•Valentine Rontez

•Shaun Ross

•Kimora Lee Simmons

•Naomi Sims

•Joan Smalls

•B. Smith

•Arlenis Sosa

•Sal Stowers

•Duckie Thot

•Jasmine Tookes

•Eugena Washington

•Veronica Webb

•Alek Wek

•Jessica White

•Slick Woods

•Kara Young

Musicians:

•Aaliyah

•Akon

•Louis Armstrong

•Pearl Bailey

•Harry Belafonte

•Chuck Berry

•Beyoncé

•The Black Eyed Peas

•Blackstreet

•B.o.B.

•The Bobettes

•Soulja Boy

•50 Cent

•Chance the Rapper

•Ray Charles

•Chubby Checker

•The Chords

•Ciara

•The Clovers

•The Coasters

•Nat ‘King’ Cole

•Zendaya Coleman

•The Contours

•Sam Cooke

•Taio Cruz

•Andra Day

•Bobby Day

•The Del-Vikings

•Jason Derulo

•Destiny’s Child

•The Diamonds

•Bo Diddley

•Daveed Diggs

•DMX

•Fats Domino

•Dr. Dre

•The Drifters

•Earth, Wind, & Fire

•Missy Elliott

•Flo Rida

•The Four Tops

•Aretha Franklin

•Bobby Freeman

•Marvin Gaye

•Gloria Gaynor

•CeeLo Green

•Billie Holiday

•Whitney Houston

•Ice-T

•Sharaya J

•Janet Jackson

•Michael Jackson/The Jackson 5

•Kamille

•Alicia Keys

•Khalid

•Sean Kingston

•Eartha Kitt

•Lenny Kravitz

•Patti LaBelle

•John Legend

•Leona Lewis

•Lizzo

•The Marcels

•The Masqueraders

•M.I.A.

•Mickey & Sylvia

•MKTO

•The Monotones

•Nelly

•Ne-Yo

•The Penguins

•Leigh-Anne Pinnock (of the girl group Little Mix)

•The Platters

•Prince

•Otis Redding

•Little Richard

•Rihanna

•The Ronettes

•Diana Ross

•Darius Rucker

•Run-DMC

•Travis Scott

•Shaggy

•Tupac Shakur

•Nina Simone

•Shirley & Lee

•The Silhouettes

•Snoop Dogg

•Jimmy Soul

•Jordin Sparks

•The Supremes

•The Temptations

•TLC

•T-Pain

•Ty Dolla Sign

•Usher

•Bill Withers

YouTubers:

Jackie Aina

Alissa Ashley

Yasmin Benoit

Berleezy

Raye Boyce

Patricia Bright

Marques Brownlee

Alyssa Forever

GlamTwinz

GloZell

Bri Hall

Todrick Hall

Aysha Harun

Alonzo Lerone

Oneika the Traveller

Shanna Malcolm

Shameless Maya

MakeupShayla

Chris Smoove

Nyma Tang

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