#also have to post this today because without vee in two days i would be in trouble with dinging options lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Chase the Shadows Away (Taywhora) - Juno

Summary: It’s April 2020, the UK is in lockdown, and Tayce gets a hand-delivered letter from her neighbour Aurora which may change her life.

A/N: So this is set during lockdown and does mention covid, so please bear this in mind when reading if this will be a worry, but otherwise I hope you enjoy. CWs in place for alcohol, mental health mentions, and non-adherence to lockdown rules at one point.

Otherwise it’s quite fluffy with some h/c. I hope you enjoy.

The first letter Tayce got was in early April.

She hadn’t had much post since the whole country had been locked down, no one allowed to move outside their front doors for more than once a day for threat of fines and penalties and even getting sick. Most of the letters she was getting this week had been birthday cards for her absent housemate. She’d put the various brightly-coloured cards and Amazon boxes in a pile outside Viv’s bedroom door, and gave the pile the middle finger every time she walked past it.

But today there was a plain, white envelope, with “Hi” written on it in glittery red pen, and when Tayce opened it, she found a piece of notebook paper that had been folded at least four times, and Tayce nearly threw it across the room with the effort it was taking to open.

This had better be worth it.

When she got it unfolded, she read the three lines in the same glitter pen, then again, and once more just in case.

‘Hi, I’m Aurora. I’m on my own in my flat 7D because my housemate moved home because of lockdown, and you seem to be alone too. Want to write to each other? X’

And Tayce couldn’t hold back the rush of emotion, as much as she tried - but she was alone, and she took comfort knowing only these four walls would see tears stream down her face.

——

Tayce was on her own in the flat.

In the day time she opened her work laptop, thanking god she was allowed to work from home; throwing a hoodie over her pyjama top just in time for the 9am meeting where her boss grinned at everyone and told them all to keep swimming and chin up and whatever other self-indulgent bullshit she had read in her How To Motivate Your Teammanual in the chapter about Managing Pandemics.

Tayce was still surprised at how much bullshit her workmates seemed to swallow; all of them with the same broad smiles and straightened hair and shaved chins and eyeliner, for fuck’s sake - but Tayce copied them, knowing that not painting her own smile and her own eyebrows on was damning herself for the inevitable call and the simpering It’s Good To Talk conversation, followed by u k hun xx to be flashing repeatedly in the work WhatsApp group from all the team.

In the evenings, the only noise was the clink of the glass bottle against the wine glass. One glass was enough to make her a little sleepy, two was enough to make her dance, and three was enough to make her post something cryptic on her insta story and see if anyone DMed her.

Sometimes they did.

Joe liked to crack a few morbid jokes about how it was the apocalypse and we were all going to be dead by 2021, which didn’t help Tayce in the slightest. Ginny would message “You alright, bab?” at three in the morning, but never reply to any other message. Tia would send Tayce a picture of the banana bread she’d baked as if that would cheer Tayce up.

And Cherry sent her a message one time, telling her to look after her mental health, and then Tayce felt bad because Cherry worked for the NHS and only seemed to work and sleep right now, her insta photos showing her looking more and more gaunt, with #ClapForHeroes and #ProtectTheNHS appearing at the bottom of all her posts.

Nothing curbed the gaping black hole in Tayce’s chest, sucking everything that was good from her body and leaving her a shell.

Until the letter arrived.

——

Two days after she’d posted her own letter back to 7D, another letter arrived, in the same glittery red pen, this time addressed to her, with Tayce written on the front of the envelope this time.

‘Hi Tayce (sp?) nice to meet you, don’t worry I don’t know what to say either! Where in Wales are you from? I’m from Nottingham but I came to London for uni and didn’t leave! Are you still working rn? I got furloughed which is a bit shit. And my housemate is staying with her boyfriend so she can’t move back. Have you been clapping for the NHS? Someone on my floor was banging a pan or something!! Hope your ok? WB Aurora xx’

“I’m making a new friend,” Tayce had said to her mum on the phone later that night.

“In lockdown?”

“She’s delivering me letters.”

“How?”

“By hand, mum.” Tayce forced a laugh. “You know. Through the letterbox like a normal letter.”

“I hope you’re washing your hands before and after you open them, are you?”

“Yeah, of course,” Tayce grimaced as she said it.

“Good. Stay safe. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

One of these days, Tayce thought as she disconnected the call, she might be able to say it without her voice breaking.

——

By mid-April, a full month since lockdown had started and two weeks after the first letters between them, Aurora had given Tayce her instagram handle, and Tayce had given hers in return. Tayce found herself spending all of her Good Friday skimming down the page on moreauroramore, looking through all of her new pen pal’s photos and trying desperately not to look like an idiot by accidentally double-tapping any that were obviously over a year old.

Tayce had pictured Aurora in her mind as being over-excitable, short, with dark hair and lots of dusty pinks and baby blues and other pastel colours as her aesthetic, maybe with pot plants and cat pictures and cutesy little slogans surrounded by hearts. Instead she’d found a smolderingly attractive woman with a ridiculously versatile and sophisticated sense of fashion; one photo in a rococo-inspired summer dress, and the next in a cerulean blazer, matching trousers, and stilettos. Her hair was platinum-blonde, but it was hard to tell her eye colour as she seemed to own a never-ending plethora of colour contacts; and the eyebrow ring in the early pictures was replaced by a silver septum ring in later ones.

Her own insta looked quite plain in comparison, Tayce thought to herself. The landscapes she liked to post were interesting to her but probably not to the magnificent person on Aurora’s insta. The last picture Tayce had taken was of herself with her brother and niece in red rugby shirts just before the Six Nations was on; the last selfie before the last time she’d gone home which was … only February, she realised.

February felt like years ago.

When Tayce had awoken the next morning, she was greeted by the doorbell, and an Amazon driver sprinting away the moment she opened the door. A letter was on the doormat, in the familiar red glittery pen, and a single chocolate Easter egg.

‘Happy Easter Tayce. Don’t know if you celebrate but lol thought you would like some chocolate anyway! Don’t eat it all at once. Aurora xx’

It made Tayce’s gut wrench with guilt that she hadn’t thought to get Aurora one.

But it made Tayce even more pained, once she had clicked onto her instagram, to see that moreauroramore had liked all thirteen of the pictures she’d posted this year.

——

The zoom call at the end of April with the others from her uni group, saw not just Cherry missing, but also Ellie and Veronica.

“Ellie’s moving this week,” Lawrence nodded at the screen, “but that was all she’d tell me. She didn’t say where. Or if she’s staying in Dundee or anything. I just know she’s still trying to get her internet set up and I think she’s a bit stuck.”

“What about Vee?” Ginny asked in a low voice.

They all recognised the somber tone. They’d all taken it up. A change in their voices that all of them recognised in a kind of collective telepathic awareness. A hush in the calls, as if someone were dying, or had just died. Whenever anyone was missing, it was always the same worry circling all of their minds: what if it’s covid what if it’s covid what if it’s -

Tia was shaking her head. “It’s not covid,” she said, reading the minds of everyone through the internet, but her voice was still solemn as she continued. “I spoke to her mum. She’s -“

“Say depressed, Tia, it’s fine.” Bimini spoke gently, but not all of them were as open as Bimini was. Especially when it came to Veronica, who was a brick wall when it came to showing what she was feeling.

“She’s - not in a good place.”

“Say mental health,” Bimini said, shaking their head. “It’s okay to not be okay.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna make her feel any better, Bim.” Tia rolled her eyes.

“We’re all feeling this,” Pip nodded. “We all need to talk to each other.”

“Veronica won’t. Not yet. We just need to be there for her when she does. Anyway, who’s done anything interesting? Anyone else been trying banana bread? Everyone managed to find bogroll from somewhere now? No one is having the same problem that Joe had when she -“

“I don’t think we need to go any further with that one, love,” Joe muttered.

“I’ve made a pen friend.”

Everyone sat in stunned silence at Tayce’s sentence, mouths open like fish at feeding time.

“A pen friend? What is this, 1986?”

“Shut up, Ginny. I think that’s kind of cute, actually,” Tia mused, tilting her head to one side.

Tayce nodded. “Something a bit different. She lives in my block of flats. Two floors up from me. Been nice, to talk to someone, ever since Viv buggered off to her boyfriend’s house. Seriously, as soon as Boris announced lockdown she was jumping in her car and off to Liverpool.”

“You said she was a bit flaky,” Tia said sympathetically. “What’s your new pen pal’s name?”

“Aurora.”

“A-what?” Ginny raised their eyebrows. “Can we just call her Rory?”

“No.”

“We should get her on a call with us when Veronica’s back. Ronni and Rory, sounds like Ant and Dec will have some stiff competition when they get wind of that.”

“Ginny -“ Tia began, but Tayce was trying to hold back a chuckle.

——

‘Someone is talking about a street party on the 8th of May. Are you gonna go? I was gonna stay indoors but if you’re gonna go outside i will too xx’

Tayce knew she shouldn’t be thinking of meeting strangers outside her flat while the pandemic was ongoing, but she hadn’t seen a familiar human since March other than on a zoom call screen.

‘Hi Aurora, yeah i will go outside for a little bit. Look forward to meeting you properly instead of over letters! Tayce’

And Tayce finally stopped hesitating, adding two kisses on the end for the first time.

The weather was meant to be lush for a May bank holiday, as Tayce knew because her colleagues wouldn’t shut up about it. Almost eight weeks of lockdown were beginning to show the cracks in all their faces - no more eyeliner, and even Linda in Accounts had stopped posting boomerang videos of her kids doing Joe Wicks workouts while she waved her arms behind them.

So Tayce was over the moon when Friday rolled around and she could slam the Dismiss button on her phone alarm, turn over and sleep in until noon. Once she woke up though, she sat up with a jolt in her bed and realised she’d have to get ready; somehow it was important that she looked right today.

It was a power play, she knew it. An armour. But there was just something about clothes that made her mood turn in an instant. Her favourite leather jacket was probably a bit too heavy for the warm sunshine - warm sunshine? In May? - so she opted for the black denim instead and a skirt that hugged her slender figure, leaving her hair loose and wishing she’d gone for a trim before the lockdown. Maybe she should take her scissors to it?

She held the only scissors she had to hand - a pair of craft scissors - and wondered what her hairdresser mum would say if she knew that her daughter had taken non-styling scissors to the 30-inches of hair that she had.

No - better not. Her mum could give her a go over once the lockdown period had ended.

Someone was playing tunes on a speaker already when Tayce came down the stairs, dragging the garden chair Viv had left behind and brushing the digestive crumbs off it. One of the neighbours she recognised from her floor handed her an ice-cold can of Fosters which she sipped, not really enjoying the taste but relishing the freedom of it all. She knew to keep two metres from everyone, and she knew Cherry would absolutely murder her if she disobeyed that rule.

As soon as Aurora came into view from the block of flats, Tayce knew that keeping to the two metre rule would prove a little harder than she had first thought.

Aurora’s insta pictures showed a fashion model trapped in a little box on a screen, striving to get out - but in the flesh, she looked as if she had just rolled out of the living room after a Tiger King marathon. The grey jogging bottoms paired with the crop top and zip-up hoodie were probably too warm for today - 23 degrees, the radio kept repeating - but she made them look so effortless and stylish that Tayce suddenly wanted to buy some. Her platinum hair was piled in a messy bun, dark brown roots showing but the lackadaisical nature made it seem like Aurora meant it that way.

On her insta page, Aurora was way out of Tayce’s league; but here in life, she seemed a lot more accessible, a lot calmer, a lot more real.

Maybe it’s armour for her too. All this perfection in the photos. God. Why did I wear this?

She dropped her own deck chair down a reasonable distance from Tayce, taking another can of Fosters from the same neighbour and cracking it open. She took a swig, wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, and waved.

“Hi, Tayce. Here we are, then!”

“Yeah,” was the only thing Tayce could think of in response. Really cool. Very clever.

But Aurora was talking animatedly about how much she’d missed the sun, as she pulled a pair of sunglasses from her pocket and leaned back against the deck chair, claiming “Tesco are having them on sale - two for £12, so I got two - what else am I gonna do on furlough other than sunbathe!”

And the more the Fosters flowed - their neighbour’s 24-pack almost completely gone before 5pm, he seemingly wanting to give a can to the whole block - the more Aurora opened up her life history to Tayce.

How much she wished she was still in Worksop and could go on the long walks into the forest. How she’d give anything to hug her mum, a care-worker, and how she FaceTimed her shielding grandad every Sunday at 6.30 just after he finished his tea.

But most of all, how lonely it was every single night being alone in a flat in a huge city. Aurora dabbed her watery eyes with her thumbs as she described how much she loved everything that London had to offer when it was full of people, not dead to the world like it was now - and in this hollow place that lockdown was, she’d discovered that a city - any city, however exciting - was just a built-up area if you had no one to share it with.

Tayce hadn’t expected to cry. She’d cried maybe once or twice this whole time in lockdown, still too numb to have taken everything in that was happening. But the moment she’d opened her mouth, suddenly the Fosters had started talking for her too, and she was spilling out her worries onto the pavement below them as Aurora rubbed her back.

How her mum was furloughed from the hairdresser and her dad was always out in the lorry up and down the country. Her brother and sister-in-law, and her niece, were all still fine in Newport, but Tayce had missed her niece’s birthday, having to settle for blowing her a kiss down FaceTime and promising her through gritted teeth and cold fear that she’d give her the biggest cwtch ever as soon as this was over.

But now Tayce was in tears again, this time on Aurora’s shoulder, releasing her sorrows onto this woman who she had only exchanged written words with; now seeing her true soul laid bare in emotions that just refused to stop once she started. Aurora’s gentle hands ghosted through her hair, but then gripped Tayce tightly to her chest, planting a long, tender kiss on her hairline.

How had this happened? How had social distancing become this? Two people, thinking they were islands, clinging to one another for dear life?

Tayce held her for too long.

Aurora’s hands froze as she realised what she had done at the same moment Tayce had.

Cherry is gonna kill me.

Aurora walked with Tayce back to her flat as the sun was setting. It was nine in the evening, the heat finally starting to break, and both of them were aching and tired, spent from their tears. Aurora gave Tayce’s hand a gentle squeeze but said nothing else, her eyes red underneath her sunglasses, and Tayce had felt herself harden once again, turning the key in the door and closing the outside world back to where it should be.

——

After two weeks had passed, both of them not developing any symptoms after their contact, Tayce had an idea.

She put the letter through the letterbox in 7D at midday when she broke for lunch, and had a reply by half past one, a new record for Aurora.

‘Tayce, I’d love to form a support bubble with you. I thought you would have one already thats why i didn’t ask! Want to put on a film tonight and just chill? Bubble bud? Aurora xx’

So Tayce saw inside Aurora’s flat for the first time that same evening. After work, she practically sprinted up the stairs, thankful to get away from more of u k hun xx and her still-simpering colleagues.

It was very clean, as if it had only just been cleaned that day - freshly-washed surfaces, hoovered carpets, a sparkling bathroom - and Tayce marvelled at how tidy and orderly things were, a stark contrast from her own living space which had evolved into a nest of mess by now. Aurora’s living room and kitchen space were one area, with a mismatched sofa and chair facing the tv screen, hooking up a PS4 - Tayce hadn’t counted Aurora as a Dishonoured player either. The wall opposite the window was filled with small pictures of past fashion models - Kate Moss, Agyness Deyn, Cara Delevigne - all with matte black frames which had obviously been painted in lockdown, as one was on the coffee table drying over a copy of Hello magazine.

“My housemate’s not coming back, I can see it happening now,” Aurora shrugged, “so why not make the house the way I like it while I look for someone else to live with?”

Aurora poured Tayce a huge glass of wine, and that was followed by another; while she topped up her own glass liberally and kept shifting on the sofa as if trying to get comfortable. Tayce, for her part, took the chair instead, while Aurora tapped on the PlayStation controller to try to get Netflix up. The more she drank, the more cumbersome the controller seemed to become in her hands, until Tayce leaned over and took it away from her, Aurora’s fingers lingering a little too long on it before relinquishing.

When Aurora got up, meaning to pour them both a fourth glass of wine, she slipped on something and tumbled into Tayce’s lap in the chair, tittering something that sounded like “god I’m clumsy” through the giggles that came from her, unable to stop. Tayce slapped her on the back as she started coughing, but as that died down, Aurora straightened up, picking up Tayce’s hand in hers and drawing her up and away to join her on the sofa.

Lockdown had been so fucking lonely.

Aurora’s hand in hers was all Tayce needed to dissolve every wall she was still rebuilding from May Bank Holiday.

Aurora’s eyes were on her, she knew; through her peripheral vision as she tried desperately to cling to her focus on whatever episode of Tiger King this was.

When Tayce finally met her gaze, she averted it, turning her face to the window opposite them. Almost … playfully.

So Tayce looked back at the TV screen, but Aurora’s hand squeezed at hers, thumb in her palm pressing right in the centre, the pressure somehow travelling all the way to her gut. Tayce turned back to her, and this time Aurora did not look away.

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

Aurora looked at her through her eyelashes, lips parted in a smirk, curiously searching Tayce with her gaze as if wondering what her next move would be.

Tayce blinked incredulously. “Me? Like this? What do you mean, I’m gorgeous? Have you seen yourself?”

“And that accent, oh my days -“

“Go to Newport, we all sound like this.”

But the wine was hitting hard now and oh god lockdown is so fucking lonely and Tayce’s feet on the floor suddenly felt unsteady and Aurora was so fucking close to her on the sofa -

——

Once the hangover was gone, the memory of rest of the night felt like a dream, or maybe a nightmare. Tayce wasn’t entirely sure when she’d gone back to her flat, but she had, long before night had fully fallen and long after she was sure the burgeoning friendship she was finally making with someone lay in tatters two floors up from her.

The wine had washed away the strength she’d had, leaving her raw and vulnerable, and all the affection that had been growing since Aurora had first held her bubbled and burst into life. And Aurora must have felt the same magnetic pull, drawing them together across the sofa, nail marks still present in Tayce’s back that she could see in the mirror, a bruise forming on Tayce’s collarbone as Aurora had dipped a little lower.

It had been Tayce who had halted it - not because she hadn’t wanted to, but because she couldn’t decipher how much of this was affection and how much of this was just two lonely people, starved of company, starved of normality, seeking and clinging to it in any form.

And now it was the following day, and Tayce still didn’t know.

The group call at the end of the day was interesting. She stretched over the back of the sofa in her living room to grab her water, and that must have been enough to flash a sliver of skin.

“What’s that?” Lawrence asked loudly, prompting everyone else to go quiet. “Tayce? What’s that on your chest, hmm?”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“You’re not wearing your glasses, Ginny, you can’t see shit. What’s that on your chest? Why d’you have a bruise there?”

“Hi!” Ellie’s voice as she joined the call unexpectedly saved Tayce any further embarrassment; everyone shrieked when she came on, having missed the last two zoom calls following her move. “Thank God my internet is working now, I’ve missed all your faces!”

Tayce silently thanked Ellie’s timing and contentedly listened to the rest of them as they chatted about everything and nothing that they’d all missed. All of them were there; even Cherry showed up about twenty minutes in to wave at them and blow them kisses, her face even more pallid than before; before ducking back out to go to bed.

Only Veronica was still missing.

“She’s been messaging me,” Tia explained, “and she said she’s feeling a bit better, but since she got furloughed, she’s feeling like there’s no point getting out of bed or getting ready because there’s nowhere to go.”

“Send her some love,” Tayce said, but Tia snorted.

“You send her it! She’s gonna feel better if she knows we all miss her.”

It was true though, Tayce realised after they all disconnected. They all seemed to be drifting apart, no more energy to continue with these online gatherings, even though there were so many virtual meetup groups and apps that there almost seemed to be no excuse now.

She looked back through her phone messages. She hadn’t messaged Veronica since early April, taking her silence as a sign that she wanted to be left alone; but what if it wasn’t? Veronica was a closed fist, everyone knew that. And Tayce’s brother? Again, early April, and a quick call the week after for her niece’s birthday.

Lockdown, and self-isolation, seemed to be one and the same.

So Tayce spent the rest of the afternoon sending messages to everyone she had neglected since then. Maybe they would reply, and maybe they wouldn’t - but there was no harm in reaching out, no negative consequences.

By the end of the day, she was fielding messages back and forth from everyone she thought she’d lost through lockdown, the grey cloud over her head starting to lift, the fuzzy feeling disappearing and clarity settling in. She felt light, lighter than she had in weeks; and warm as the summery days they were getting in this late-May spring.

Towards the end of the day, she got a message back from Veronica at last.

Veronica: I’m doing ok. I got up and went for a walk today just to the park and back. It’s really nice although my hay fever sucks. Thanks for checking in on me i appreciate it x Veronica: Oh also Tia said you had a hickey on the group call haha tell me what her name is x

Tayce was surprised to realise she was grinning at the phone as she read Veronica’s message, her fingers stroking the mark on her collarbone as if to savour the vivid image that it sparked in her head.

——

It was three days after their drunken kiss on the sofa that Tayce had another letter through the door. The same red glittery pen, the same scrawl, but the writing a little smaller as if Aurora wanted to diminish herself.

‘Hi Tayce. I’m really sorry if i came on too strong this week. Can we go back to friends? Want to hang out tonight, bubble bud? Aurora xx’

Tayce swallowed down the part of her that immediately rose up and cried that she … didn’t want to just be friends.

Then it hit her.

God. I only met this girl properly this month. What’s wrong with me?

But she replied and immediately started clearing the house.

She put the pile of Viv’s birthday cards and presents from the hallway floor into a cupboard under the sink, giving it the middle finger again; put the six-weeks worth of laundry on to wash; cleaned all the dishes; and dragged the hoover out of the tiny airing cupboard and got to work on the carpets. The hard floors she swept, and carried the bin bags out to the communal bins, all before midday.

“Who needs Joe Wicks workouts?” She muttered to herself, panting, as she tugged some marigolds over her hands to sort out the rest of the kitchen.

By the time it was six, and time for Aurora to arrive, Tayce thought the house looked much better, and honestly, she felt much better too. The little spring clean she’d given the place had cleared a little clutter from her head as well.

It’s nothing to worry about. She’d just coming over for food and -

Tayce grimaced as she realised she hadn’t thought of what to do for food. She thought back to the beans on toast she’d had at four and kicked herself for not thinking of that. Dominos was still delivering, so she brought up the app and busied herself looking through the list of pizzas.

Aurora hadn’t arrived by ten past six, and Tayce started to worry.

Maybe she’s changed her mind.

But Tayce refused to let that thought take any root. She looked at the clock, which of course seemed to slow down from having eyes on it, and firmly told herself that she would message Aurora at quarter past if she wasn’t here before.

With a minute to spare, Aurora turned up, grinning merrily and waving the bottle of rose in Tayce’s face.

“Hey bubble bud! Sorry I’m late, well I’m always late, sorry in advance if you expect me on time for anything!” Aurora took a step inside and her jaw dropped. “Wow, your place is well nice!”

“Thanks,” Tayce grinned, although she wasn’t sure what Aurora was looking at. Tayce wasn’t allowed anything on the walls from what her landlord said, but Aurora wouldn’t stay still - checking out the titles of the handful of CDs Tayce had brought down to London with her; scanning a nail along the books on the shelf above the TV.

“It’s nice to hold a book sometimes,” Tayce shrugged, “rather than just read it on the kindle app.”

When Aurora got to the kitchen, Tayce cringed. She’d have to confess.

“I haven’t got in anything to eat. Only - only some bread.”

“And pot noodles,” Aurora added, opening a cupboard and helping herself to the contents as if she’d lived here her whole life.

“And pot - oh, are you thinking, maybe …”

“No way!” Aurora slammed the cupboard door and grabbed her keys again. “Be right back!”

Ten minutes later and Tayce was at the hob over the oven with Aurora, dicing onions while she cut up a red pepper, mince that Aurora had grabbed from her own fridge was out and ready to go in too.

“I needed to use that up anyway,” she shrugged. “Please tell me you don’t just eat bread and pot noodles, Tayce, please. I need to give you a cooking crash course if you do! Didn’t you learn to cook at uni? Or didn’t you do much cooking before you went? Oh my days - no fry the onion off first, with the garlic - I’ll chop the mushrooms, Jesus Christ pot noodles …”

“I know how to cook, give me some credit!” Tayce murmured, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “I just haven’t been to the shop yet, it’s been a long week.”

Aurora closed her eyes and hummed in appreciation. “Just keep talking to me, please.”

“What about?”

“Anything! Your life, your family - I don’t know, house prices, I don’t care - but that accent, ugh -“ Aurora shivered.

“Yours is cute, too,” Tayce smirked.

Aurora looked at her reproachfully. “You’re lying.”

“Yeah, I am.”

It was no use. The air was full of electricity, static around them, and before Tayce knew what was happening, suddenly they were kissing again, this time stone-cold sober, while the onions burned shadows into the bottom of the pan.

——

Viv gave her notice on the flat at the start of June.

“I just can’t afford to live here anymore,” she explained, sighing, when she got back and started to pack up everything in her room. “I’m gonna see if I can get some work back home.”

Tayce was numb, although she knew Viv didn’t mean it personally. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been made redundant straight after the lockdown ended, and it made sense that she wanted to be near her family. It was now four months since Tayce had seen hers, and she missed them every day, although she had been sticking religiously to her new routine of calling her parents every Saturday night and her brother’s family every Sunday afternoon.

“I’m sorry that’s putting you in a tight spot, Tayce,” Viv muttered, hugging her, and Tayce hugged her back.

“Can’t be helped,” Tayce replied, which was all she could think to respond with that wasn’t an inarticulate growl in frustration.

Viv was adamant she would pay her final month’s rent, and pay her half the utilities even though she wasn’t there. But she had to go home.

“How was your move?” Tayce asked Ellie on the next group call on zoom.

“Shite,” Ellie replied, “but partly because we struggled finding someone to move us. There’s plenty of places around, plenty of places to rent and stuff, because everyone’s moved back to where they came from.”

“You’ll find somewhere else to live, bab,” Ginny murmured in a soothing voice to Tayce, stroking the side of the laptop screen as she liked to do to show affection now that she couldn’t hug anyone.

“I know,” Tayce sighed. “It’s just a pain in the arse.”

She wasted no time. One of the spare room websites was always open in the background, and she was refreshing, looking maybe a little further out from central London to see if anywhere was cheaper, but nowhere was.

Then she spotted the dot in her own block of flats, and clicked the advert.

That’s - that’s Aurora’s flat.

Now she remembered. Aurora had mentioned something about her housemate moving out! It must now be official.

She read through the advert - how was it £50 cheaper than what she was already paying? - and looked at the contact name for the housemate, and there it was in black and white pixels: Aurora Martin, use form below.

Grabbing a piece of notebook paper - one of the last bits left, she’d been ripping them all out to write to Aurora - she penned a letter, one of what might well be the last ones, and jogged upstairs to post it through her letterbox.

The response came back to her in less than an hour, a new record for Aurora.

‘Tayce! I’d love it if you wanted to move in here! OMG. My landlord will want references from yours, but if you can get them quick then he can approve you really fast, he’s working from home. OMG you made my day. Come up at 7pm xx’

“Work contacted me today too,” Aurora beamed as she settled with Tayce on the sofa. “They want me to start back next week! Can’t wait. Need to get that coin again now! I mean, I’m dead grateful, you know, that I still have my job and I was on furlough so the government paid most of my wages, but it will be nice to have the full package again!”

“What is it you do again?” Tayce asked.

“Oh - I work as a fashion buyer. But because fashion’s kind of stopped right now, most of the designers are shut. Reopening now, especially the ones in mainland Europe! Can’t wait to be on the phone to them all again.”

“Wait. You speak to designers in other countries?”

Aurora nodded. “I speak French and Spanish.”

“You -“ Tayce was dazed. “I didn’t know that!”

“Well why would you? I mean you’ve only known me a couple of months!” Aurora laughed, and leaned back closer to Tayce, her perfume overwhelmingly sweet in the air. “You’re not gonna know everything about me yet, bubble bud.”

“No,” Tayce purred, “but I can’t wait to find out.”

——

By the Monday after the move, early July, Tayce was all set up to go. She’d moved the bed into the corner as she liked it, arranged her books into a rainbow as she liked them, and unfurled the posters she’d been unable to hang in her last flat, mostly punk bands that she liked, Bimini’s band’s poster, and the noticeboard with all the tickets tacked to it of all the gigs she’d been to. The vanity with the mirror that she’d brought from home fitted perfectly next to the window so she could do her makeup with natural light; and it was large enough for her work setup, which was where she was now.

The flat layout was almost identical to the one she’d just left, and the room was the same one - Aurora having the slightly bigger room - but it felt a lot more comforting, knowing she wasn’t alone here any more, knowing she had a little more freedom in decorations, and knowing that the hollow feeling in her chest was starting to slow down for good.

She turned off her work laptop at five as normal, which was when Aurora came in. Tayce pulled her in, giving her a peck on the lips.

“They’re gonna love you, I promise.”

Aurora just made a moan in the back of her throat and put her face in her hands, shrinking away from the vanity.

Tayce turned on her personal laptop, logging into zoom and connecting to the group chat. Her monthly uni call was set to half four today for some reason, and everyone else was already all there.

“Tayce! We wondered where you’d got to!”

It was Veronica’s voice, and Veronica’s face was in the top left. She still looked a little tired, and the shirt she was wearing looked suspiciously like a pyjama top, but she was here with them all, and this was a big step for her.

Tayce beamed at her. “So good to see you!”

“The move went alright then, bab?” Ginny asked.

Tayce nodded. “And there’s someone you should meet.” She pulled Aurora into frame, who still looked uncharacteristically shy for a moment before waving at the people on the screen. “This is Aurora.”

“Aurora!” Tia squeaked. “Like the princess!”

Aurora rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

“So we’ve got Rory and Ronni here together at last!” Lawrence exclaimed, while Veronica gave the camera two fingers.

But Tayce just grinned at her friends on the screen, far apart but together in this strange way. Aurora’s nails dug into her shoulder, still a little nervous, but even that was fading as she got more comfortable.

Aurora had been right - the city was just a lot of bricks in intricate patterns without someone in it that made it a home.

And this just might be becoming one.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #tayce #a'whora #taywhora #ginny lemon #lawrence chaney #veronica green #tia kofi #ellie diamond #uk2 #lesbian au #fluff #hurt/comfort #juno #tw covid lockdown #tw mental health mentions #submission

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randomvarious · 4 years ago

Video

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SWV - “Right Here” 18 Top Hits 1/94 Song released in 1993. Compilation released in 1994. R&B

The first wave of R&B girl groups in the 90s was dominated by three separate entities: first, there was En Vogue, who were responsible for starting the whole craze, and then came TLC, who were then followed by SWV. And since this is a post that’s gonna be littered with a bunch of fun, little trivia nuggets, here’s your first one: SWV, which is an acronym for Sisters With Voices, originally wanted to call themselves TLC, based on the first initials of their three members, Tamara, Leanne, and Cheryl. But they received a cease & desist letter from Epic Records, who had the TLC name locked up for the soon-to-be sensational Atlanta trio that was on their own roster. And so, Tamara, Leanne, and Cheryl begrudgingly settled on calling themselves SWV instead.

They began in 1988 in New York with two members, Leanne and Cheryl, who both sang at church, and were in search for a third girl to finish out the group. After going through auditions, they chose Tamara, who, according to a Rolling Stone article, was really shy and originally would only sing with the lights off. The three girls also donned stage names. Leanne would be Lelee, Cheryl would be Coko, and Tamara would be Taj. As a quirk, they sent out demo tapes with bottles of Perrier because they couldn’t afford to send champagne. They would end up catching the ear of legendary producer, as well as the father of the new jack swing fad, Teddy Riley (more on him later), and he would end up getting SWV inked to a ridiculously terrible eight-album contract, which the group never completely fulfilled. But at least they got themselves signed to a major, right?

In 1992, SWV released their debut album, It’s About Time, with most of the production coming from a guy named Brian Alexander Morgan. Morgan has gone on to produce, remix, write, and arrange for a bunch of music superstars, including Usher, Drake, Wu-Tang Clan, Mariah Carey, and Ariana Grande. But his first big opportunity came from...right here...with SWV’s debut album.

In fact, it was “Right Here” that would kick things off for SWV, becoming the group’s first single, before their debut album ended up hitting the shelves. But here’s where it might get a little confusing. That first single isn’t the version of “Right Here” that everyone would end up remembering SWV for. Actually, almost no one remembers the original version of “Right Here,” which is an excellent song on its own. Morgan laced his new jack swing beat with organ, electric guitar, and ringing bells that remind us of Run-D.M.C.’s “Peter Piper” and Snap!’s “The Power,” which both trace back to Bob James’ “Take Me to the Mardi Gras”. And Taj raps, too!

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The original version of “Right Here” would peak at #92 on the Billboard Hot 100 and #16 on the R&B/Hip Hop chart. The next pair of SWV singles, “I’m So Into You” and “Weak” would fare much better, both reaching the top ten on Billboard’s Hot 100, with “Weak” going all the way to #1. These singles would then set the stage for the release of a new version of “Right Here,” the one everyone knows and loves, which is credited as a Teddy Riley remix, and was fresh for the summer of 1993. It’s commonly dubbed as the “Human Nature Mix” because of its liberal sampling of the Michael Jackson song off Thriller. That particular mix would also feature on the Free Willy soundtrack, which would also contain and lead with Michael Jackson’s “Will You Be There”.

(Another famous sampling of “Human Nature” would happen in 1994, too, with Nas’ “It Ain’t Hard to Tell,” which was produced by Large Professor. Now, you could be thinking that the “Human Nature Mix” might’ve provided some inspiration for Large Pro to conjure up that particular beat, but as it turns out, “It Ain’t Hard to Tell” was actually recorded in ‘92.)

So here’s the coolest piece of trivia you’ll run into today. Know who’s delivering that catchy “ess, double, you, vee” line throughout the “Human Nature Mix”? Pharrell. And it’s his first vocal credit, ever! One day, he was performing in a high school talent show with his R&B group, The Neptunes (not his production project with Chad Hugo), and guess who was in the audience? Teddy Riley! Riley’s studio just so happened to sit next to Pharrell’s high school. How’s that for luck? Pharrell would end up writing Riley’s verse on Wreckx-N-Effect’s old school hip hop summer classic, “Rump Shaker,” and the following year he was on the “Human Nature Mix”. There’s also a captivating, “give-it-some-time-to-work-itself-out” kind of “UK Remix” of “Right Here” on which Pharrell raps, and in 1996, The Neptunes (now just Pharrell and Hugo) would receive their first production credits for two songs (and an interlude) on SWV’s second album, New Beginning.

And now for something probably even less people know about. Although the “Human Nature Mix” is credited to Teddy Riley, it’s not his work. It’s Brian Alexander Morgan’s, the guy who also produced the original version. Riley’s name was merely attached for marketing purposes only. The label probably thought that if they sold the single as a remix that was made by a production superstar who was using a Michael Jackson song(!), it would move more units than if they said it was by Morgan, which is a name that barely anyone knew. And it seems like the label was correct in its calculus. Even though it didn’t end up hitting #1 (it hit #2), the “Human Nature Mix” remains SWV’s most remembered song, and you can credit it for leading to a re-release of SWV’s debut album, which at that point would add the remix, and would help generate over two million copies sold.

And come to think of it, how many songs can you name in which the remix ended up becoming far more popular than the original version? Before the advent of EDM, anyway. And “Ignition (Remix)” doesn’t count, by the way. That totally misunderstands what a remix is. There’s like a handful of tracks that come to mind: a pair of Amber remixes by Hani and Thunderpuss (”One More Night” and “Sexual (Li Da Di),” respectively), another Thunderpuss remix of “It’s Not Right But It’s Okay” by Whitney Houston, a Latin house remix of Madonna’s “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” by Pablo Flores and Javier Garza, and of course, Todd Terry’s remix of “Missing” by Everything But the Girl. But the “Human Nature Mix” of “Right Here” might be at the top of the list. Lots of people aren’t even aware of the original’s existence. When you say the words “’Right Here’ by SWV,” everyone just assumes you’re talking about the “Human Nature Mix”. When the song is included on compilations, a lot of times the words “Human Nature” aren’t anywhere to be found, like on this random German comp I have that gathered 18 of the top songs from January of 1994. That’s how much more popular the “Human Nature Mix” is than the original. Let me know if you can think of any other remixes that hold a similar status.

One more thing before I get to the music video. This mix is so different from the original. The original version has a much harder edge and clearly took way more thought and effort to put together than the “Human Nature Mix” since the “Human Nature Mix” primarily just coasts off of the Michael Jackson sample. It doesn’t mean the original’s better though. It’s definitely great, but it’s trapped in the new jack swing era, and for that reason, it doesn’t have the staying power of the “Human Nature Mix”. Sometimes a producer finds something that’s easy enough to cobble together and it just manages to hit really good. That’s definitely the case here. The “Human Nature Mix” is just so fluffy; it was perfect summer radio then and it’s perfect summer radio now. It’s like an R&B counterpart to DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince’s “Summertime,” which came out a couple years beforehand. In fact, if I were doing a nostalgic 90s summer mix, I would probably line those tracks up back-to-back (”Rump Shaker” would be somewhere in there, too). There’s just a super relaxing, enjoyable airiness that both songs seem to possess. Oh, and speaking of DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince, you know who provides the background vocals on Will Smith’s “Men in Black” song? Coko from SWV. Wild, right?

So, anyway, the video. It sucks. It just does. It’s not memorable at all, besides the awkward, intermittent slip-ins of footage of Michael Jackson performing “Human Nature” from his Dangerous tour and some clips of Free Willy swimming and breeching. It’s really a missed opportunity for the group. Apparently, there’s another video without Michael and Free Willy, too, but I can’t find it. It sounds like it’s boring though. Oh well.

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The first single off of SWV’s next album (”You’re the One”) would do very well for itself, too, and that album would manage to go platinum. But they’d get lost in the fold soon after, while En Vogue and TLC would end up building much more on their prior success. And TLC would come out on top for the late 90s with songs like “No Scrubs” and “Unpretty”.

SWV made good songs, but they weren’t marketed well, at all. Case in point, your last bit of trivia: Taj was a contestant on Survivor in 2009. No, not Celebrity Survivor. Just regular-ass Survivor. No one knew she was Taj from SWV and she didn’t tell anyone on the show either. This lady helped sell millions of records for fuck’s sake. I guarantee you every contestant on that show knew an SWV song and they had no idea who this woman even was. Isn’t that kind of insane? I mean, SWV were by no means one-hit wonders, and they weren’t super popular for that long, but they were definitely an early 90s R&B staple. Anyway, for what it’s worth, Taj ended up finishing in fourth on Survivor. She’s also married to soon-to-be Hall of Fame running back Eddie George.

So, there it is. One of the greatest and most popular tunes of the 90s. A song everyone likes that has a lot of fun, interesting facts that surround it. Shame that these girls couldn’t sustain their success for the remainder of the decade, but at least they and Brian Alexander Morgan gave us this indomitable classic.

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unioncolours · 4 years ago

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One Majsasaurus Year!

Today is a very special day for me. This day marks the one-year anniversary since I uploaded the very first chapter of my very first fanfiction. It has been one year since I stepped into the Naruto/Boruto fandom as a content creator.

This post is going to be a sappy meta post about my year as a content creator and my relationship to my fanfictions, to my writing and to my fandom and friends.

Please continue reading down below 💕⬇

I began watching Naruto in 2019, and by summer 2019 I had seen Shikamaru’s arc in Shippuden. I was blown away by his character and I was a full shipper of ShikaTema by then. I could not wait until we got to the end of Shippuden, and began googling the next gen characters (and spoiling the end game couples at the same time) and you can only imagine my satisfaction when I found out ShikaTema became canon and they had a son.

Very soon after this I came up with my first fanfiction idea, the one that gave birth to my very first fanfiction Shadows and Sand. I believed that idea had been done before, but after vacuuming through both ff.net and ao3, and I found nothing, I decided to write it myself.

I may have written fanfictions only for a year, but prior to this I was hardcore into the original writing world. I had written two fantasy novels and five full length plays before I wrote my first fanfiction, one of which was published, so the art of writing was something I was fairly used to.

The fanfiction writers I had read and followed to this point were Big Fandom Name writers with strict schedules and lots of readers. Every time they uploaded a new chapter their audience would write comments like “Your spoiling us with these tight schedules” and so on. I really liked the idea of a consecutive schedule and decided to write the whole first fic in its entirety, so I could “spoil” my potential readers with updates.

Shadows and Sand ended up being 35 000 word long, divided into eight chapters. This was the first story in my whole life I had ever written completely in English (and it was not easy). Going back to Shadows and Sand is cringy for me, mainly for the way I expressed myself in English, thought I still think the plot is great.

Here is one of the lines from Shadows and Sand I to this day think is amazing:

“She [Mirai] looked into his eyes, but he [Shikadai] didn’t look back, because he was already staring into a nightmare where his dad was dead because of his mistakes.”

For a totally new fanfiction writer, with no “fanbase” prior to this, I would say I got quite a lot of comments (around 15 in total on the eight chapters) and I was extremely happy for that.

I uploaded the whole thing in a week and a half, satisfied and proud of the result. At the final chapter I got a comment where the commentor wrote something along the lines of “Well written angst and well written fluff”. I pondered about those statements for a long time, thinking, yes, this was actually angst, even if I in the moment of writing – then I was still unused to the tagging system and the tropes of fanfiction, didn’t categorise the fic as angst, because I thought angst could only be chopped off limbs and painful deaths. But this fic had angst as well. Tiny angst, but still. And a rather powerful feeling rose in my chest from that moment. This is what I want to do in the fandom. To write heartfelt stories that make people feel.

One week after I uploaded the final chapter of Shadow and Sand my fingers began to itch. I wanted to write more. Wanted to explore the little grain of world building I had already created. Wanted to write more Shikadai and Inojin kissing.

And thus, To go down with the Sun was born.

I began writing Down with the Sun with only one vision – something epic and an explosion. The plot was evolving as I was writing and the result ended up being just beautiful. And I became obsessed with this story. I wrote it in racer speed, 50 000 words in 26 days (that is madness, I tell you, MADNESS!) and then the rest 30k in 20 days. I could not think of anything but this story and the Next Generation Kids I put through trials and hell. I felt true euphoria while writing this story that unfolded under my fingers like in a dream. It was a mania, and a damn strong one.

The first thing I did when I woke up was writing, the last thing I did before going to bed was writing it. I prioritised writing this story above all in my life.

At the time of uploading, the fic did not get that much recognition. I got about one comment per chapter. When I uploaded the final chapter, I got two comments on that one, which was a tiny bummer, since I had hoped for more. It was a lonely, but lovely job to write Down with the Sun, mostly with my own thoughts as company, since the readers were rather quiet with feedback.

But I loved the few comments I got and I still got kicks from just the single act of uploading a new chapter. Because in the end, I wrote for myself and even more for the characters and plot. Finishing the story was the greatest motivator.

I uploaded the final chapter of To go down with the Sun December 7th, 2019. And I still to this day love the story I created, even if I know that I’d definitely re-write some elements from the story if I’d write it again. But I still love it.

After To go down with the Sun I wrote the fic that I hold the least emotional value to, Earning a weasel’s trust. The story is cute and short (11 000 words). It was a nice little project focusing on Temari’s motherhood to Shikadai that I wrote in a week. It got close to no feedback or attention, but it didn’t make me sad, because I needed to write and share that story and then move on with my life. I am though happy I wrote it.

At this time in my creative process I had been really lonely. It had been me with my own head and the characters. I had no beta reader and no one to bounce off ideas or anything. I had no fandom friends. I am still amazed I had written around 130k words without almost any support whatsoever in the span of four months.

This all changed in late December 2019. I found a Discord Server that I basically begged to get to be part of, and it really changed my fandom experience. Prior to this, my fandom experience had been lonely, and I just produced and consumed content. There was no interaction between anyone, except me replying to commentors.

And now, I found friends. I found people who loved the same pairing and show as I, and it felt almost life changing. This was the time when fandom really felt like… a hobby. A home. Before, it was a creative outlet, now it became a community.

I thrived.

The mod of this server @loknnica, hosted during this time a writing contest, which I eagerly wanted to take part of. I wrote my contest fic, Branded by Love, during January 2020, in which I made Shikamaru betray Konoha for Suna and Temari, and their son Shikadai became the One Tail jinchuuriki. The fic was 10k words long, and OUCH, the backstory I came up with. As soon as BbL was finished I decided that I wanted to write a long version of this canon divergence-world I had created.

In February 2020 I began writing Trial of the Heart, the epic version of Branded by Love. And damn, damn, damn what an epic story was born out of my fingers and brain. I love ToH, I loved what it turned out to be, a heart-wrenching and sad story of Shikamaru, Temari and Shikadai in a world of war.

While writing ToH the writing contest was ending and to my big, big delight, I WON! Branded by Love and I won the contest! This was precisely the boost I needed to really feel validated in my rather specific writing style and choice of plots.

I wrote ToH almost non-stop for four months, and in the beginning of June, the 28th chapter was uploaded. Trial of the Heart ended up being 123 000 words long. In four months, a whole damn NOVEL was created from my keyboard.

The pride, guys. The pride and joy I felt was like a drug injection.

Finishing off works is the greatest, greatest dose of motivation and pride. To write, write, write and finish. And let go of your work, to upload it with a great smile on your face.

During the spring and summer of 2019 three very important friends entered my life.

Vee (@veeganburger on twitter),

Becks (@notquitejiraiya on twitter)

Spooky (@spookymoth on twitter).

These three wonderful ladies really made me feel valid as a writer, and made me love my own work as well. During the spring To go down with the Sun had gained quite a lot of attraction, and the kudos and comments came. All the loneliness I had felt during the autumn was replaced by joy and love of sharing my works. These women have shared their thoughts of my work (and art) to me and I have also in privacy felt secure to talk with these women about nothing and all at once. They never fail to cheer me up.

I love you.

I had also gained the nickname “Shikadai’s tormentor” after multiple times forced that poor boy into horrible situations in my works. The user @shikanaradai’s nickname is Shikadai’s protector and we have an ongoing joke about being archenemies because of this. Ah. The fandom bubble was and is so lovely when you can experience inside jokes with friends. They became my friends, and I gained so much from this.

ANYHOW.

During Trial of the Heart I wrote a friendship between Shikadai and Inojin and I realised I missed writing them as a couple, like I had done in To go down with the Sun. With the support of Vee, who was really, really excited for a new fic where those two boys are a couple, I decided to write a sequel to To go down with the Sun, which I named To dance above the Stars.

In the wait before I began writing that one, I wrote two one shots, 48 hours to live – a next gen focused fic based on a manga chapter from the Boruto manga, and a pure Shikadai x Inojin one shot, I found love in the eyes of a boy, because at that time I knew already I had dug my own grave with that pairing.

I began writing To dance above the Stars in June 2020 and uploaded the first chapter at the end of the same month.

Simultaneously as I wrote Above the Stars I also wrote/edited three fics, one of them called The End, for an application to become a writer to the ShikaTema zine Everything I never knew I wanted. The results of the application came in the middle of July, when I had written a good chunk of Above the Stars.

I WAS ACCEPTED!

I am now officially one of the five writers for that zine!

To dance above the Stars got better recognition that I ever imagined. I was terrified that no one would want to read it, because it was a sequel and had very niched themes. A rare gay next gen pairing in focus and a story with extremely heavy emotional themes. I was so unsure anyone would want to read. The same feeling of loneliness that I had experienced during To go down with the Sun came back a little bit. That it in the end would be only me and my text.

How wrong I was.

To dance above the Stars got wonderful feedback, and more kudos than for example Trial of the Heart got. I received wonderful comments, and even fanart! I was so extremely happy and felt a new powerful emotion. It almost felt like my fic had its own little world in the world of fics, if that makes sense? Like a miniature fandom. During the late summer To go down with the Sun got translated into Russian by a wonderful reader of mine, enabling my texts to a wider audience, which I am extremely honoured by.

As I write this, it is September 2020. One year ago, I was writing Shadows and Sand and struggling through stringing English sentences together and that was also when “my” version of Shikadai was born. One year ago, I was writing what I to this day think is the best fighting scene I have ever written – and I write a lot of fight scenes. One year ago I was listening to “I just want to be brave” from the movie Lion King to get into Shikadai vibes and the mistake he did in that fic, a song I revisit for this reason time and time again.

I remember naively thinking that I will finish Shadows and Sand and then maybe write something else as well. Little did I then, in September 2019 know, that I would one year later have written closer to 400k words of fics, centred around Team 10 or around the Nara family. One year, almost four hundred thousand words.

Now, one year later I had won a writing contest, written three full length NOVELS as fics, been accepted to a wonderful zine, and found lovely, lovely friends. I even got crowned as a “Queen” for the Shikadai x Inojin ship, Shikajin as it is called, since I am one of the like three people who write for that ship, and have to this date written around 180k words for them. Which is a lot, haha!

I feel like I have conquered a tiny corner of the great fandom sandbox, and let me tell you, I thrive in my own corner. I might have few followers on twitter compared to many other creators, but I still want to provide content for those who want to see it. I might write rather niche works, but they filled a space where no fics were, and enriched the fandom in their own ways, even if I haven’t gotten tens of comments on each chapter. I have gotten around four comments each chapter, but it felt like okay.

I might not mod great zines like many of my friends do, something that did for a few months bring great stress into my fandom life. Am I a second-hand fandom member because I don’t want to moderate a zine, was something I often thought about. Am I lesser worth because I don’t do these amazing projects? No, I am not. And I feel very satisfied by just following my friends’ journeys and look at beautiful twitter accounts for zines.

I want to put my energy on writing intriguing plots and difficult fight scenes. Every fandom experience is valid.

In my heart I know my fics and content are good. Maybe not as good as native English writer’s content, but they’ve got a heart and soul on their own, and I really feel like I do have a Majsasaurus genre, trope or theme going on in my fics. And to be honest, I love it, and I accept that other people might not love it as much, or not at all. But it doesn’t matter. What I think of my own content matter.

If any of you, who read this, have commented even once on one of my fics, thank you.

If any of you have ever interacted with me on twitter through comments, thanks you.

If any of you have pressed the follow button on either twitter or tumblr for me, thank you.

If any of you have left kudos to me, thank you.

If any of you have read my stuff but don’t want to comment because of different reasons, or if you feel shy to reach out, thank you for reading and I appreciate you as well.

That was one hell of a Majsasaurus Year. Here’s to the next year. Cheers!

Thank you, all of you. You make my fandom experience complete.

- Majsasaurus Bex

#shikadai fanfiction #shikamaru fanfiction #majsasaurus #meta discussion #fic writing #i love you guys #all of you #thank you for reading and for everything

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illfoandillfie · 5 years ago

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Curtains - Part 2

It’s @laedymoon - Elio, my Tumblr Daughter’s - birthday today!!! So to celebrate I thought I’d post a little something dedicated to her! Curtains was originally written because of El so I decided to write a second part!

El, I hope you’ve had a fantastic birthday and that you enjoy this fun little thing ily 😘😘😘

READ PART 1 HERE

Pairing: Roger x Reader

Summery: You still haven’t fixed those curtains.

Warnings: Smut (18+), Exhibitionism, fingering, unprotected sex, choking, dom!Rog

Words: 2202

A/N: This is not the sequel fic ya’ll were hoping for but it’s the one ya’ll are getting for the moment.

Taglist: @somekindof-cheese @dtfrogertaylor @ezmina98 @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac@labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @bowiequeen

It had been a full two weeks since your encounter with Roger and your curtains still weren’t up. If anyone had asked, you’d have said something about not having the right tools, or not being able to do it on your own, or that really you hadn’t noticed because you’d been so busy with school work you’d spent most nights this past week sleeping in a corner of the library. None of that was true. The reality was that you were just hoping Roger would come back and make good on his promises. You’d considered going to his place, but every time you came close, you’d chicken out. The idea of knocking on his door and seeing his smug face when he realised how badly you wanted him again, was almost too much to bear. And god, what if his roommate answered? It’d be mortifying, knowing he knew you were there to try and score another shag. You had no idea how likely it was that Roger had told anyone about you or what had occurred but the possibility that his roommate knew anything kept you away from their front door.

You’d considered striking up a flirty conversation at the pub and more than once you’d gone there intending to do just that. The memory of the first time he’d talked to you, there at the bar, kept intruding, playing on a loop in your mind as you ordered a drink, hoping alcohol would dull your sense of self-preservation enough that you could muster up the courage to talk to him. It never quite worked. Usually he was already wrapped up in a conversation, a half empty beer in his hand, when you got there. Mostly it was with friends, the same ones you saw walking up his driveway every other day. Sometimes it was other girls. Either way you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt. Not when all you could think about how he’d made you cum in public and you were worried that thought would be the first thing out of your mouth. Instead you’d buy a few drinks and try not to stare at him too much as you finished them. Then you’d go home and imagine what you would have said if those other people hadn’t been there, imagine how things could have gone if you weren’t quite so shy, and pray he’d notice you next time.

You’d almost given up hope he’d come around again when you heard a tapping at your back door, pulling your focus from the assignment you were trying to write. His stare through the glass reminded you of the first time he’d been here, watching you, and you hurried to open the door. “You expecting someone?” he asked indicating your bare legs under the long shirt you had on, “Or just hoping?” “Hoping,” you said quietly, heart racing at the cocky smile he gave you in return. You’d known he’d be smug about it but somehow it only made you want him more. “You gonna let me in, love?” “Sorry, yeah,” you stood back to let him in, holding the door open as he crossed the threshold, and closing it softly behind him. “Still haven’t put those curtains up,” he turned and pointed at the doorway as if there were multiple unhung curtains he could be talking about, “Not really a surprise though.” “Like I said, hoping.” Roger chuckled as he stalked towards you. You took a step backwards and found yourself with your back pressed against the door. “I’ve seen you at the pub you know. Trying to decide if you should come talk to me or if that’d give away how desperately you want me to fuck you again. Still shy, aren’t you?” You nodded as he moved into your personal space, using his knee to part your legs. You lowered your eyes but he tilted your chin up, giving you no choice but to look him in the eye. “That’s okay. I like knowing I can make a shy little girl like you moan like a whore.” You whimpered as he brushed his fingers over your clit, teasing you through your underwear. He moved as close as he could get, leaning down to nip at your shoulder as he brushed your clit softly again and again until you attempted to press your hips into his hand, desperate for a firmer touch. “So desperate for me, aren’t you?” he asked as he slid his hand into the top of your underwear, dragging his fingers through your wet folds. You whined as he focused on your clit. “You remember what I said last time?” “W-which part,” “When I told you how I wanted to fuck you,” “Yes,” you gasped as he removed his hand from you entirely, but it was just so he could tug your underwear to the side and change the position of his hand. He placed two fingers at your entrance but stopped, teasing you with them. “And what did I say?” “Up against the door,” “And the other way?” “With the door op-open,” you were rewarded with his fingers pressing into you as his thumb came to rest on your clit. Your breath caught in your throat as he began to pump his fingers into you rapidly. “Bet you’ve been thinking about that a lot, haven’t you?” “Yes,” it slipped out in a moan. “Waiting for me to come back, use you the way you want to be used.” “Yes. Pl-ease Roger, ‘m close,” “Which way do you want more?” You couldn’t think clearly with his fingers were pumping into you, his thumb pressed against your clit, his voice in your ear. “Gotta give me an answer, love, otherwise you’ll get neither.” You whined as you tried to understand what he meant. “Fine,” Roger stopped, his fingers still inside you, and brought his other hand up to your throat, pinning you against the door entirely, “Answer me. Or I’ll use your mouth and leave without letting you cum.” “Open door,” you gasped out, not sure if that’s the one you wanted more or it was just the last one you thought about and the closest for your brain to reach. “Good girl.” He tightened his grip on your throat as he began stroking your g-spot as his thumb resumed its movements on your clit. In a matter of seconds you were coming undone, a hand wrapped around his wrist near your throat, for support.

You could almost have cried as his fingers left you, grabbing you by the arm instead to pull you away from the door as he opened it. You hastened to pull your shirt of as he pushed your underwear down your legs. As soon as they hit the floor he grabbed you again, turning you round and placing your hands against the glass door as he pulled your hips back. If someone had taken that moment to sneak into your backyard and look through the open door, they would have had a clear view of Roger running his cock along your pussy, teasing you before ramming into you, making you mewl. “Gotta be louder than that if you want to cum,” he growled as he thrust into you rapidly, forcing stuttered moans from you with every snap of his hips. Roger had one hand on your hip and one on your back to keep you steady. The slapping sound of skin on skin mixed with the constant rattle of the door, every shift making it bang against the skirting board, and your constant moans, unabashedly loud. He dropped his hand from your back to your clit, building the pressure in the pit of your stomach. And then you heard it, amongst all the noise, something different and out of place. “W-wait R-r-r-oger,” He stopped and pulled out as you felt behind you, tapping his side. “What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?” “No, nothing like that. Heard a noise.” “Heard a noise?” He scoffed but you shushed him, listening for the noise again. Suddenly you heard a bang. “Oh, Jesus Y/N. That was just a car door.” Roger peaked out the doorway, craning his neck to see and you did the same, “Pretty sure it came from my place. Can’t believe I pulled out of your tight little cunt because Bri’s fucking come over again.” He pushed you back down against the door, “whole point of fucking you like this is so the street can hear what a slut you are.” You moaned loudly as he entered you again, returning to his fast pace, only now he also added a few slaps to your arse to make you squeal. You were sure you heard the footsteps heading up next door’s driveway stop, their owner listening to your pornographic noises. The thought only made you more desperate to cum. You dropped one arm from the rattling door, intending to rub your clit and push yourself over the edge, but Roger caught your wrist and slammed your hand back over the handprint you’d left on the glass. “No,” “Please,” “Not yet,” “Please,” “Ask again and I’ll stop,” he growled, breathing heavily between words. You whined as he continued to pound you, but refrained from begging, even though your whole body was screaming at you to cum. Next door was quiet again, no more car doors and no more footsteps. Though the voice in the back of your head that wondered if anyone was still there, listening to you, was much louder than before. Every rustle in a tree made you think someone was sneaking into your yard for a better look. Without warning Roger dropped his hand to rub your clit again. “Gonna cum for me? Let everyone hear you?” You didn’t need any more encouragement. Spots appeared in front of your tighly shut eyes as you screamed Roger’s name, your climax hitting you with the force of a moving train. He wasn’t far behind, groaning in your ear as he filled you with his cum. Even in your post-coital, orgasm induced daze you were sure you heard a bark of laughter and a door closing next door.

You remained leaning against the glass, breathing heavily until Roger could summon the energy to let go of you and walk the three steps to your bed. He collapsed there on his back, arms spread out, and you followed, curling up next to him, still trying to catch your breath. This time Roger stayed longer than the five minutes it would have taken to get dressed, pulling you deeper into his side. “You aren’t leaving?” “I can if you want me to,” he sounded tired but he made to sit up anyway. “No, stay, I like it better this way.” You spoke softly, wrapping an arm around Roger as he settled back down, “That was really good by the way.” “Yeah it was,” “You ever want to do it again let me know,” “Or you could let me know,” “I spose,” “Y/N, I think if you can moan my name and let me call you a slut, you can talk to me at the pub. I promise I won’t bite. Not unless you ask me to anyway.” “You’re always with your mates though, I couldn’t.” “You could. They see me every day, would probably thank you for taking me off their hands.” “But...then they’d know,” “You mean about how you can’t get enough of my cock?” He laughed. If you had the energy to move you would have punched him in the arm. “Think they already know, love. Pretty sure they would’ve heard you just now.” You groaned, “God I’m never going to be able to look them in the eye,” “Can’t beg me to fuck you in front of an open door and then get embarrassed when people hear you.” “I didn’t beg,” “Close enough. Maybe next time I’ll make you.” “You sure there’s going to be a next time?” Roger laughed again, “Definitely not the last time we do something like that. You enjoy it too much to stop and I’ve got more I want to do to you.” You pushed yourself up onto your elbow to look at Roger properly, “You got something in mind? For next time?” “Might do,” Roger still sounded tired but there was an excitement in his tone underneath it, “you should come to my show.” “Your show?” “I’m in a band, Queen, we’re playing down the pub in two days' time, you should come.” “You any good?” “Well I think so but, y’know, might be a bit biased. Besides, was more thinking we could find a cleanish bathroom afterwards and make sure the whole place can hear you. Or there’s the backstage room. The boys might be hanging around but I bet you’d find that hot. Could fuck them too if you were so inclined.” “I don’t think I am inclined,” “Good, I don’t really want to share you,” You squeezed your thighs together as a wave of arousal rolled through you, “I’ll be there,” “Dirty girl,” “Just for the music,” “If you get there early you can take me before the show as well as after.” “What time’s early?”

#my writing #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor smut #HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!#(also @ everyone about to message me:#SR2 is coming i promise #i've just been having some trouble with parts of it)

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babblingblondegenius · 5 years ago

Text

You Can Take the Girl Out of Vegas (but you can’t take Vegas out of the girl)

Hi fam! In lieu of doing a Mancrush Monday post, I decided to write a little something for Fictober. My muse and real life have been uncooperative for quite some time and every word has been a struggle. But I saw the prompt for ‘it will be fun, trust me’ and managed to string about 1500 of them together in a way that I hope makes sense and a fun fanfic. Hope you enjoy! :)

Fandom: Olicity Rating: T Warnings: Tipsy Felicity. Also, no beta. Plot: LOL. It’s Olicity and strip poker. Felicity is winning, until she isn’t. Can she regain the upper hand? (aka there is no plot. Just good old banter and silliness with our favorite couple). Set during Olicity’s summer of love world tour.

"Take it off."

Felicity huffs a resigned sigh at Oliver's request as she deftly removes the stiletto heel from where her left foot is tucked behind her, dangling the silver strappy footwear from her finger before tossing it in his general direction.

"Just so you know, you only won that hand because I was distracted by your...your..," Felicity slurs the words and gestures wildly at his half-naked body,"...ev-er-yyyyyyy-thing."

Secretly relieved he has some tactical advantage against his girlfriend's superior poker skills, he gives a self-satisfied smile in response to her petulant pout. Felicity is still slightly buzzed from her rather lucrative win at the blackjack table earlier, not to mention all the complimentary cocktails bestowed upon his high roller. But that alcohol-induced impaired judgment hasn't stopped her from dominating every hand they've played since returning to their suite from the hotel's opulent casino and she suggested a 'friendly' game of strip poker. “It will be fun, trust me,” she purrs in an attempt to be flirtatious but is just adorable when accompanied by her signature wink-blink. Either way, he can’t ever say no to her and that’s an offer he doesn’t want to refuse.

The game started in his favor, or so he thought, since Felicity didn't appear to be wearing as many articles of clothing as he was. Just the deep-vee neck curve-hugging like a second skin hot pink gown that has been driving him crazy all night and the shoes she referred to as her ‘lucky heels.’ She only gave a coy smile when he inquired about undergarments. The vast amount of cleavage make him pretty confident that she isn't wearing a bra and lack of panty lines conjure up an image of her favorite black lace thong but he really wants to find out firsthand.

Instead, her gown is still covering those luscious curves and he's only managed to get one shoe. Conversely, she is in possession of both his shoes, along with his socks, suit jacket, bow tie, suspenders, and white dress shirt, leaving him barefoot and bare from the waist up.

"It's your turn to deal," Felicity reminds him tersely, holding out the deck while trying to look anywhere but at him. Taking the cards from her, he manages to not-so-accidentally brush his fingers along the soft skin of her inner wrist. He can't help but notice the involuntary shiver and the goosebumps that skitter up her arm. Her reaction to his touch only fuels his desire to win.

He shuffles the deck, showing off with a couple of fancy techniques, one of the few things he learned in college, and flexing way more than necessary. She doesn't seem to be paying attention, still looking everywhere else except at him, but the lip bite is one of her tells and he knows she noticed the bulging of his biceps.

Oliver deals the cards and peruses his hand. As luck would have it, he has three sevens, the best hand he's had all night.

He is so getting her other shoe.

Carefully schooling his features so Felicity won't see the excitement that is bubbling up in his chest, he casually glances at her, noticing that she is still worrying her bottom lip and studiously avoiding his gaze.

Oliver has spent the last seven weeks since they drove away from Star City learning everything he didn't already know about Felicity Megan Smoak and every piece of newfound knowledge, down to the most minute detail, is embedded in his psyche.

Seemingly forever, if their history is any indication. Like the exact day they met. What color pen she had in her mouth that day. Her fear of heights, kangaroos, and all things pointy. The way she would dance and spin in her chair when she didn't know he was watching through the glass partition at QC. The sound of her loud voice when she's angry.

The fact that he noticed everything and could never forgot anything he knew about her tormented him all those days, weeks, months, when he was struggling to deny his feelings for her, when he was convinced she was better off without him.

But now, finally, today is the day his Felicity-centered eidetic memory is working in his favor.

Because that particular lip bite, coupled with the subtle peeking out of her tongue to moisten that plump, kissable bottom lip, means that she is aroused.

He watches for a moment more, as she rearranges the cards in her hand and shifts her legs, seemingly pressing her thighs together under the constricting fabric of her long gown.

Oh yeah, definitely aroused.

Bracing his elbows on his knees, he leans forward to get her attention. "Fe-li-ci-ty," he murmurs in that special voice that is only for her, "it's your turn." Not able to resist taunting her just a little, he smiles and asks sweetly, "Are you going to hold on to what you have?"

She purses her lips and tilts her head, reminding him of the day he walked into her life with a bullet-ridden laptop and a bad lie that she saw right through. When he thinks about that, it makes perfect sense that she is beating the pants off him, almost literally at this point, because she could always tell when he is bluffing. She discards one card and draws another. Seemingly satisfied, she waits for him to fold or hold. He tries to build up some suspense but he only lasts about 30 seconds before declining to draw. Felicity eyes him up and down and he feels the heat from her gaze inflame his skin. Her smile is a feral combination of sultry and smug as she lays down her cards and reveals she has two pair.

Oliver nods in acknowledgement before he lays his cards down on the carpet in front of him, showing Felicity he has the winning hand. Again. Her outrage, as evidenced by her narrowed eyes and heaving chest, at his second consecutive win does not escape his attention but he is more focused on her foot. More particularly, how to remove her shoe from her foot. There are only three straps holding it on but he can't find any buckles and the straps don't give an inch when he pulls on them.

“Could you just…,” he pleads.

But she just shakes her head. "Okay, Cheaty McCheaterson, how'd you manage to stack the deck without me noticing, huh? Were you letting me win earlier? Was being naked part of your strategy all along? "

Wow, he’s not sure whether to be insulted or flattered. But he loses track of her rant when she reaches for the back of her shoe and slowly unzips it, easing it off her foot. He reaches over to collect his prize and can’t resist wrapping his hand around her foot, skating his thumb across the arch up to her toes.

"Felicity, I didn't--I wouldn't--cheat," adding under his breath, "no matter how much I want that dress off of you."

Her eyes widen at his admission and she licks her lips. "That's it...you're going down."

Abruptly letting go of her foot, he chokes on her choice of words but she seems oblivious to her double entendre. His throat is suddenly as dry as the Nevada desert they drove through just a day ago so he turns over on his hands and knees, crawling over to the mini-bar to grab a bottle of water.

He doesn’t even have the cap off before he feels her hand on his ass. She plasters herself to his backside and whispers in his ear, "This dress could be off in the next five seconds if you'll concede that I won."

Oliver steels himself against the onslaught of her soft curves pressing into him and her enticing ultimatum. "Nope. No way, not conceding. We each have two pieces of clothes on. It's a tie."

Felicity giggles and somehow manages to press herself even closer to him. Her hands glide around his waist, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, and wrap around him in a makeshift hug. Her warm breath tickles the nape of his neck, the words whispering across his sensitive skin, "It's only a tie if I'm wearing panties.....which I'm most definitely not."

Desperately trying to tamp down the sudden surge of arousal at that piece of information, he grits out, "You do realize you just admitted that I'm actually winning and gave me incentive to keep playing, don't you?"

Felicity responds by stroking her palm straight down the middle of his abs, until her finger reaches the waistband of his pants, giving the button a tug. "Or I just gave you incentive to forfeit this game for much more fun one. Dealer’s choice, Mr. Queen."

FIN

So, fam, what do we think Oliver decided to do? ;) Hint: if I could write smut, this would have been a lot longer lol. Thank you so much for reading! I <3 you all! Since I didn’t do Mancrush Monday, here’s a visual of shirtless Oliver staring at Felicity while she tries to ignore him.

Also, here’s a pic of Felicity’s lucky heels. They are very lucky indeed! ;)

#fictober19 #olicity fanfiction #olicity fic #olicity #i just want them to be happy #even if i have to write it myself

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l000ey · 5 years ago

Text

missing that → m.d

paring; im jaebum x moon daesoul (ft. got7, ahn hyejin, arabella lee and mentions of byun baekhyun and jackson wang)

summary; daesoul meets her first love again by accident

warnings; mentions of alcohol

note; yeah, uhm, second

part maybe?

2019

She had not been in the disco for an hour and already regretted having followed the fucking crazy of Hwasa, having promised to accompany her last week and of course coming without reinforcements.

For half an hour of the fifty minutes she had lost her best friend in the crowd and she certainly didn't feel like getting into the sea of people to go looking for her, so she stuck to the bar enjoying alcohol and loneliness .

Although the latter was left over.

Entertaining with her phone a notification appeared on her screen distracting her from the series that she was watching on netflix.

@stormyy.lee mentioned you in its history

She raised an eyebrow, muttered a "What the fuck are you doing, Storm?" and pressed the notification, the screen showed the private conversation she had with the only female member of Bangtan and within this the story she posted. A video of her at the bar drinking her first drink about ten seconds ago was shown in the girl's "best friends" stories.

She frowned before looking at the place from where she could have recorded it but there was no one there so she started typing.

where are you?

stormyy.lee is writing

She let out a somewhat annoying sigh, looked around again looking for Hwasa or Storm or at least someone known but nothing, there was no one. The VIP disco was full of people unknown to her, so she deduced that those on the track were not idols. She ran a hand over her forehead, the cold metal of her rings cooling the skin.

It would have been better to go to Jigoku, there were all the idols. Surely Moonbyul and Wheein would have gone if they had gone to Jigoku. She released another sigh and returned her gaze to the phone.

stormy.lee

at the top, in the largest reserved.

i have hwasa

is a little drunk

stupid bitch

and you?

stormyy.lee

if i'm drunk?

nah, it's too soon

besides today i have to take care of mark

“Mark?” Her brow frowned as her fingers moved quickly across the screen. Her eyes widened as much as they could, which wasn't much thanks to the heavy false eyelashes that Hwasa had put on her.

Today was Mark's birthday and all GOT7 was here –well, except Jackson– but that was not important, the important thing was that he was here and she had to go where he was to pick up her drunk sister. Immediately her brain began to look for escape from this deadly trap.

She had concluded that she had three options.

The first –Leave her here and let Storm take care of her, she's also her friend.

The second –Climb there, congratulate Mark, catch her and go home to shout her tomorrow when she was with the hangover.

And the last but not least, the third –Climb there, act like a mature adult, greet everyone and have a good time with those who used to call friends.

The most sensible and logical was the third, the second was also acceptable but being Venus who we are talking about and given the situation, she chose the first.

She dropped a handful of bills at the bar, ignoring the bartender shouting at her for the change and tried to get out of there. She remembered the route that Hwasa had taken her when they entered and almost growled in exasperation when she realized that she had to go through the sea of people yes or yes. She groaned in frustration when she found no other way out and sighed before closing her eyes ready to die drowned in the sweaty bodies of the people but a hand curling in her wrist prevented her.

Slowly she opened her eyes meeting a smiling Bambam “Easyyy, noona!”.

"What the hell, Bam?" She pushed him to get rid of his grip but it shouldn't have worked since the boy's hand didn't let go. She looked at his eyes covered by sunglasses, why is he wearing sunglasses in a disco? Leave it, it's Bambam “What are you doing here?".

"Storm sent me for you, noona." He smiled at her, pointing to the area where the booth was "Thank you that she didn't send Jaebum."

The air stuck in her throat for a few seconds "J-Jaebum?".

"Another one who hasn't got over it" The young man murmured rolling his eyes under his sunglasses. He began to pull her toward the stairs that led to the VIP reserved area.

He pulled her easily since Daesoul was assumed in her thoughts about how surreal the situation felt. Of all the nights she went to the disco, did Jaebum have to attend the same disco as her?.

Without realizing it, they had already reached the exclusive room and had an alcoholic Yugyeom hugging her neck. She patted her shoulder when he lazily separated from her and smiled at Mark congratulating him on his birthday.

“Vee!” Hwasa muttered away from Storm to go to her group mate, gave her a smile that let her know that she was in a worse state than Yugyeom's.

"I found her ten minutes ago, she was vomiting in the bathroom" The other blonde informed her while she sat next to her best friend. Daesoul ignored how she rested her head on his shoulder and tangled her arms around his while Mark kissed her hair.

Venus had always seen that friendship as something else but they denied it so she shrugged before looking at her best friend.

“I've been looking for you most of the night, where were you?” The girl looked at her seriously for a moment before starting to laugh hysterically, Soul sighed letting go. She dropped herself to Youngjae's side, grabbed a drink and extended it to the thai "Put me something strong."

She had felt his gaze on her since BamBam had brought her and that was bothering her, she wanted to go and shout at him to stop looking at her because she was feeling vulnerable and didn't like it. Today was not a good day for this to happen, fuck she didn't even want to be here.

Bambam let out a whistle and smiled pouring into her glass a bottle of some alcohol that she hadn't stopped to look at. Her gaze was centered between Hwasa dancing with Yugyeom and her glass, she didn’t dared to look the other way since she knew that if she did she would see him and did not know if she was ready for that.

She had argued with Baekhyun on the phone and after finishing the call she had realized that she felt nothing for him. She no longer felt that feeling of adventure and emotion, of euphoria as Storm would tell, she no longer felt anything with him and could no longer deal with the situation. She had fun talking to him and enjoyed their time together but as friends like years ago. The confusion of feelings that had brought them to bed –well, the sofa, the stairs, the kitchen, the floor of her room, the floor of the living room, the floor of the kitchen and the shower too– no longer seemed to be there.

And Dae lamented about it because she knew that she should talk to him and tell him that they should end this but with that conversation there was only one possible end, which would break his heart. It wasn't something she wanted, but she knew it was the right thing because she couldn't keep him for fear that their friendship would end, which she knew would end even if he said otherwise because that was what happened with Jaebum.

They said they would both remain friends in case things ended between them and they now look at each other sitting in a corner of the room without looking into each other's eyes after losing communication two –almost three– years after their relationship ended. .

She didn't want that to happen with Baekhyun.

Her gaze shifted to Mark and Arabella, both still in the position they had previously taken but now looking at each other and muttering things between them. Both had smiles on their faces and their eyes seemed to be full of love. She rolled her eyes.

Why didn't they accept that they loved each other and started dating?.

Still she smiled to see them because it was a beautiful sight to see two people so comfortable with each other. She missed that, being like that with someone in public. Unintentionally her gaze moved to Jaebum, surprising that he was also looking at his hyung and his "best friend", shook his head and made eye contact.

Her eyes moved to his hand looking for something and in doing so she felt her heart start beating against her chest. The black ink forming a small "D" on the back of his hand was still there.

She looked back at his eyes when he moved his fingers, knowing what she was doing, then he smiled at her.

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symbrock-darling · 6 years ago

Note

Christmas dinner with Anne and Dan

This one was a joy to write, and I thought today was a good day to post it. Thank you @dugle for the prompt request! I hope you all enjoy :]

Rating: G

Word Count: ~1400

Title: Christmas Dinner

Eddie knew it was coming and had been actively avoiding Anne ever since Thanksgiving. But it was coming, and although he’d succeeded for two long weeks, he supposed he wasn’t all that surprised when he got home one night to find Anne waiting in front of his door. Without preamble, she shoved a stiff card in his hand with swirling black letters and silver and red foil edging it.

“Now come on, Anne—”

“You’re coming,” she said, cutting through his argument. Eddie huffed at her, causing Venom to press curiously at him though he ignored the alien because when dealing with Anne, he couldn’t afford to be distracted.

“You know, I’ve got work—”

“No, you don’t,” Anne said, catching him in the lie before he’d had time to even do a good job of it. “I called your boss to be sure.”

“Now that’s just rude.”

“You owe me, and honestly? It was Dan’s idea.”

Eddie made a face but knew when he’d lost. “That man is just too good.”

“He really is,” she said with clear warmth in her voice. “But honestly I liked the idea, so you were screwed either way.”

What’s she talking about, Eddie?

Again Eddie ignored Venom and tried one final time. “You guys don’t need to do this. Vee and I were just gonna get a microwave meal or something and stay in. We’d be perfectly fine.”

Anne made a face before pressing the card in his hand into his chest with a pointed thump.

“And that’s why you’re both coming. Microwave dinner, Eddie? Come on.”

Eddie shrugged and looked away. “I mean, it’s better than the alternative.”

“What’s the alternative?”

Venom manifested a face and grinned wickedly. “Heads.”

“Oh, no!” She glared at Eddie. “That settles it. You’re coming. Remember, dress nicely, okay? And you’d better make sure Venom’s presentable too.”

“Presentable?”

Eddie’s jaw dropped.

“What? Anne, you can’t be serious. He’s an alien for Christ’s sake. He’s goo!”

“Then make the goo presentable,” she’s replied with that smile that left no room for argument. “You hear that, Venom? And you’d both better be on your best behavior. I’m not having my Christmas dinner ruined because you two want to be idiots.”

“You don’t have to risk it at all,” Eddie pointed out, but all she did was shake her head at him and leave, the discussion settled and over.

Venom had looked curiously at Eddie as they’d entered their apartment. “Christmas dinner?”

“Yeah, it’s a thing with her.”

“But you two are not together anymore.”

Eddie had groaned, glancing at the card before tossing it on the counter. “I think she feels bad for us.”

“What’s there to feel bad about?” Venom replied. “We will be fine.”

“Somehow I don’t think she sees it that way,” he sighed. “No stopping it now.”

And that was why they were now standing outside her and Dan’s door with a bottle of decent wine in hand and Venom tucked around Eddie’s body to form the nicest suit Eddie had ever worn in his life, even if it was made of alien goo. No one had to know that, and Ann had said she wanted Venom presentable. She’d never said how.

Dan opened the door, a welcoming smile on his face. He wore a red sweater that was casual and seasonal and in the back of Eddie’s mind Venom grumbled that he’d have preferred to turn into something like that.

“Hey, you both made it.” Dan stepped aside, taking the offered wine and leading them to the dining room. “You’re just in time. We’re pretty much ready.”

“That’s great,” Eddie said, moving slow as he took in the decorations while also trying not to look too obvious doing so. It wasn’t so long ago that he was the one leading guests into a beautifully decorated house he’d helped create with Anne. But not this year and not this time, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Dan press a kiss into Anne’s cheek as they passed each other.

He wasn’t jealous or anything, not now, not of their relationship. They were good for each other, and unlike Eddie, he was pretty sure Dan would never hurt Anne. Definitely not like he had. Besides, he had Venom, and really they were just as great together. Things, in a weird, roundabout, completely unbelievable way had worked out for everyone. He just … missed this. The hominess of it all, and that it wasn’t his anymore, not like this.

That, more than anything, had been why he hadn’t wanted to come. And it had been easy because Venom hadn’t quite gotten it.

Eddie suspected his symbiote was beginning to understand as he developed a tentacle to look around himself, white eyes curious.

“It’s different from the last time we were here,” the alien said. “You took the outside decorations and brought them in. It’s nice.”

“What can I say? I like to decorate for the holidays.” Anne gestured to the table where food was already packed among the fine china and flutes of champagne. “Go ahead and sit.”

“Something smells good, Eddie,” Venom murmured next to his ear. Eddie gave him a soft snort.

“If you say so. Just looking, I don’t think there’s much here you’d like.” Eddie went to take a seat as Anne and Dan put on final touches, and he paused when he counted the settings. There were four, and he couldn’t help but cut his eyes around, Venom sinking back slightly to avoid detection. “Are you expecting someone else? How come you’ve set up for four?”

Anne’s eyebrows shot up. “Eddie. Venom. There are two of you.”

“Yeah,” Eddie replied. “But we share the same body.”

“We’ve only ever needed one place. I don’t need to be present to eat if Eddie’s doing it for us.”

“But that cuts one of you out when you do that,” Dan pointed out, taking his seat beside Anne. “And we invited you because we wanted you both here.”

“It’s the holidays,” Anne said. “And after everything we’ve been through together in the last year, well, you’re both welcome at our table. And that means you both get a spot.” Anne stared pointedly at Venom. “Just don’t drool too much, okay? If you do, you’re handling all of the cleanup when we’re done.”

If that was a joke or not – probably not – they didn’t know, mostly because they were too astonished to think about it. Since they had to lay low all the time, the only times they were ever acknowledged as individuals in the pair they made was when they were alone, or when Anne or Dan or Mrs. Chen brought them up in conversation. They’d never had anyone cater toward their unique circumstances and acknowledge them both.

Eddie and Venom looked at each other, surprise swimming laps between them.

“Oh,” Eddie said, slowly facing Anne and Dan where they watched. “Well. In that case … we’re happy to be here, and that you thought of us both.”

“Right,” Venom agreed, his tentacle slowly flowing toward the place that had been set up just for him. “Thank you for inviting us.”

Anne smiled a smile filled with confidence and pride, one that always made her more beautiful. The one that always meant things had worked out exactly as she’d wanted them to.

“Now that we’re all settled, let’s dig in. Oh, and Venom?”

“Yes, Anne?”

“Dan and I took your dietary preferences into consideration, so we made something special for you.”

Venom’s eyes widened, and Eddie tried not to make a face.

“I hope you didn’t, uh, get any heads or anything.”

Anne made a face at him but Dan laughed.

“No, nothing like that. But since I’ve been working with you both, I’ve developed a good idea of Venom’s needs and the way they might be applied to the kitchen. It’s steak, extra bloody, with a special chocolate sauce I made to accompany it.”

“Is that what I’ve been smelling?” Venom said, awe in his voice as the hunger between them grew enough to make even Eddie salivate. “Dan. I could kiss you.”

Dan shot a quick look at Anne, and Eddie couldn’t help himself. A laugh burst out of his chest and soon the entire table was filled with laughter and smiles and cheer, and Eddie supposed afterward that he’d thank Anne for inviting them after all.

#eddie brock #venom #anne weying #dan lewis #symbrock fanfiction #venom fanfiction #holidays #oka writes

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peanutbuttercreamjelly · 5 years ago

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Red Wine: Pillow Talk - Conor Maynard

Another part of the Red Wine Series! I am not going to write this series in a chronological order, so don’t be surprised, they have been dating for a longer time in this one.

This is actually the first part that I had written for this series. To be continued...

Warning: Mentions of NSFW

Word Count: 1.320

Their ragged breath mingled when he finally collapsed on her. Their skin was sticky and hot, but Conor didn’t mind. He lazily kissed her on her boob, for it was the closest that he could reach without having to move his head. She lightly giggled at that. He loved how he could hear her heart beat, still very fast from their previous action.

“That was… something else”, Vee summed it up as they had eventually caught their breaths. Her hands had found their way in Conor’s hair, making him hum in content.

“Yeah”, he agreed a little sleepily. “Wait here, ‘m gonna get you cleaned up, love”, he said and went to the bathroom to get a wet washcloth, cleaning her up from the mess they had made.

“Thanks baby”, she said and cupped his cheek, pulling him in for another tender kiss on the lip. Conor quickly brought the cloth back to the bathroom, throwing one of his shirts and a pair of fresh knickers at her as he returned. She caught it with ease and slipped it on. He pouted a little since the material now deprived him of one of his favourite views: her naked body. But seeing her wear his clothes, especially in this fucked out state with her face all flushed and her hair a mess, no doubt created by his own hands, made up for it. Almost.

Vee lifted up the duvet a little so he could easily slip beneath it after he had put on his boxers as well. The both of them didn’t like sleeping naked in hotel beds, although they loved it at home.

She wrapped her arms around him as soon as his back hit the mattress. Conor chuckled lightly. “Someone’s clingy”, he said before he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She hummed and burried her head even deeper in his chest, making him embrace her, too.

“Telly?”, he asked.

“Sure. Maybe that award show’s still on”, she said. “If we don’t show up in person we could watch it at least.” She repositioned herself so she could see the screen, while Conor turned on the telly.

“Best decision to stay in”, he mumbled. They might have ditched the award show for some rather urgent business they had to finish. The show was indeed still on, the category where Conor had been nominated but didn’t win were already through, but now Vee’s categories were on.

“And the best female single goes to… Ariana Grande”, the presenter said.

“Well, no luck for me today”, Vee said, shrugging her shoulders, as the ‘best female vlogger’ was also not her.

“Never actually understood the point of going to a show when you already know you didn’t win”, Conor said.

“True. And then they tell you to act suprised and all. I think our evening was way more enjoyable than theirs”, Vee said before she stole another peck from Conor’s lips.

Conor turned the TV off as they know showed part of the interviews with nominees and winners. Vee was already half-asleep, but he couldn’t blame her, she had only arrived yesterday and her flight back home to London was leaving in about nine hours. So he cuddled close to her, holding her tight for as long as he could, before their busy lives would separate them for another couple of weeks.

“Conor?”, she said, the lack of sleep clearly evident in her voice.

“Yes baby?”

“I miss us making love”, she said, stirring a bit to readjust her position against him.

“But we just did, didn’t we?”, Conor asked confused.

“Hmm… we just had sex. But we didn’t actually made love. Do you remember how, when we both had a month off in London, we could actually take our time because we knew we’d have each other for a whole month?”

Conor slowly understood what she was getting at. They barely saw each other these days, and when they actually did meet in person and not via facetime or the phone, their need for each other was so big, so unbearable that they could barely make it to their hotel room before their clothes were scattered all over the place. Round two was a bit more gentle, but still they both knew that they only had a few hours before one of them had to leave for a concert, or an interview, or to the studio, or fly to the other side of the world. It was still desperate, clingy sex, chasing their high because they wouldn’t have the chance to make the other feel this good in a few weeks.

However, when they were both at the same place for a few weeks, which didn’t happen that often these days because of both their careers, they knew they could do it whenever they wanted. There was no need to rush things, there was no flight to catch, they could just enjoy each other or they could just choose to cuddle, since this couldn’t be considered a wasted opportunity. The more he thought about it, the more he missed it too.

“Don’t get me wrong”, Vee said as Conor had been silent for a little while, “I love having sex with you either way. Really, you make me feel so damn good, but… God, I just miss having you all to myself for a little while without having to leave in a few hours. You know, when it doesn’t matter if we don’t get off because we have plenty of time for it.”

“Nevermind, I shouldn’t have said anything”, she added, when Conor still didn’t answer, clearly misinterpreting his silence.

“No baby”, he quickly said, “it’s just… I was just thinking about it.”

He wouldn’t tell her, but he was surprised that she even told him. She usually wasn’t one to talk about sex. She was really into having sex, but she was still uncomfortable talking about it, even after the year that they had been dating. So he was doing everything that he could to encourage her, when she did talk about it.

“I guess you’re right. Don’t even remember when I ran you the last bath”, he continued, referring to their ritual when they were both at home. Every sunday morning, they’d share a bath, most likely having that end up in having sex or at least making out and then have a nice homemade breakfast. Conor let his hand run up and down her back in slow strokes.

“Must have been ages ago”, she giggled. “Miss that, too.” She snuggled herself even closer to him.

“ ‘s gonna be the first thing we’ll do when we’re both home again, I promise”, he mumbled before kissing her hairline.

“And then we’re gonna be making love”, Vee mumbled into his chest, her words a bit mushed together both because Conor’s chest muffled the sound and because she was getting really tired.

“Yes”, he mumbled in content as he watched his love drift off to a much needed slumber.

He really needed to figure something out. Talking about all those lazy times they had spent with each other really got him to miss out on those, and although he had Vee right here in his arms, peacefully asleep, he felt like it had been a long time since he had seen her fully relaxed and totally at ease. He missed having her laugh in the most carefree way, he missed having her completely comfortable in their own house, in their own bed.

He carefully reached over to get his phone from the nightstand without shuffling too much, but Vee was still fast asleep when he had finally got hold of it. He typed in a quick text to his manager, saying that he had to talk to him about something important the next morning, so he wouldn’t forget. He was sure that his and Vee’s manager would be able to figure something out.

View all parts of the series HERE or view all of my posts HERE

#buttercream squad #buttercream gang #conor maynard #jack maynard #joe sugg #byron langley #caspar lee #jack maynard imagine #josh pieters #mikey pearce #conor maynard request #conor maynard fanfiction #conor maynard imagines #conor maynard fluff #conor maynard one shot #conor maynard writing #conor maynard series #CM

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moodyinapinkbow · 6 years ago

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Mispronounced Words That Drove Me Nuts Today: A List.

Whew, I haven't posted a rant on here in a hot minute! Which, honestly, is probably a good thing--the internet sure is hostile enough without me over here hollering about WORDS and how often people may or may not be saying them right. But, YOU GUYS, today I went to a work party (my Mother’s), ate almost an entire cheese plate (literally, I feel kind of sick) and got riled up. It was the kind of day that rattled my English Major soul to the core and made me wanna go home, roll up my sleeves and plant a linguistic SHADE garden on the internet. Because, you guys, my mother is a teacher. And so are her co-workers. And, holy-moly, I heard some wonky sh*t today.

First things first: I’m not the kind of person who takes any pleasure in correcting the way someone’s older relative might pronounce ‘Acaí’ at Starbucks. I’m not a Butt-Munch. I get that exposure to certain words doesn’t necessarily happen for everybody at the same time. I also understand that accents play a large roll in dictation and that regional speech patterns are a thing. None of that is what I’m talking about here. I’m talking about words that are being said wrong. Another thing I want to make abundantly clear is that the main reason this sort of thing falls on my list of pet-peeves in the first place (and, ohhhh, it does) really has nothing to do with snottiness. Rather, the opposite is true: of all the fields of knowledge that an individual can study, proper use of language is probably the rudest topic to correct someone on in public. And I want to share! To put things in perspective, a person who knows a lot about nutrition can (and should) pounce on false facts about calories when they hear them. But, come on, it just doesn’t work that way with language. Announcing to someone that they’re saying a word wrong (especially when it’s a common word) is always going to sound rude. It won’t come across as helpful; it will probably just come across as a shitty and elitist way of calling someone stupid. Case and point: its usually better not to say anything at all. So I don’t. Which is too bad, because there aren’t a whole lot of things I’m good at and knowing stuff about words is one of them.

Now, with all that being said, here is a list of five of those words (I started keeping track of them because I’m kind of a dill-weed) that I heard butchered today. I present them to you now in the hopes of getting my own pent-up args-ARGS! off my chest.

(1.) Labtop (Laptop).

Noun

1. a computer that is portable and suitable for use while traveling.

“I like to look at pictures on my Labtop.”

(NOOOOOOO.)

(2.) Pitcher (Picture).

Noun

1. a painting or drawing.

“He likes to take Pitchers of his party guests.”

“Look at that Pitcher in that nice Pitcher frame.”

(Slightly less ‘NOOOOOOO’ than labtop when it’s used in a quick ‘dropping the ‘g’ off a word’ kind of way, but still pretty bad.)

(3.) Mis-CHEE-vee-us (Mischievous).

Adjective

1. (of a person, animal, or their behavior) causing or showing a fondness for causing trouble in a playful way.

"Two mis-chee-vee-us kittens had decorated the bed with shredded newspaper."

(I know, I KNOOOW. But this word only has three syllables. If you over-pronounce the ‘I’ in there you’re giving it four. It should really sound more like ‘mis-chuh-vuhs’.)

(4.) GIF pronounced like JIFF.

Noun

Look, I know this one is technically correct and that I’m playing for the wrong team here. But, really, what kind of heathen looks at the word GIF and thinks JIFF? I don’t care if the creator technically confirmed that it’s supposed to be said that way. He is wrong and I REFUSE. ‘GIF’ stands for Graphics Interchange Format and ‘Graphics’ has a hard ‘G’. I. Rest. My. Case.

(5.) Referring to visiting a store in the past tense the same way you would talk about having gone to a friend’s house (with a possessive ’s on the end).

“I went to Victoria Secret’s today.”

“I went to Walmart’s”

(This seriously might just be a New England thing. I’m not sure I’ve heard it anywhere else. But, like, it’s not a girl named Victoria Secret’s store. It’s Victoria’s Secret. One. Just one secret. Walmart isn’t a dude either. Whyyyy?)

Annnnnd I’m done (and feeling much better, tbh). So, ah, hey do any of you guys have a list of mispronounced words that you hate hearing? Feel free to chime in so I feel less alone and goblin-ey.

#ranty rant face #file under troll #grammar #words

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inactive-revenge-may-vary · 6 years ago

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Eff You, Mr. Eff - Part 1

The familiar sound of the front door quickly scanning and then allowing patrons to enter alerted Tenn to come from the security footage room upstairs. She had already set up the screens to broadcast each street from earlier yesterday into the current day at that exact time.

She waved from the top of the stairwell.

“Good to see that you all made it here safe. Brother Squee, Brother-in-Law Pep, and TAK are all on their way here. But in the meantime we can get started.”

She met them halfway down the stairs, she was in strategic soldier mode, her arms clasped behind her back and her head held high.

She gave small professional smiles to the two tall men and the red tentacled, dog-like creature.

“Everything is already set up for review.” She went on to list all of the streets up on the screen as she opened the door for them to come inside the security room.

“You can take your pick on which you’d like to station yourself to.”

“Down the line- There’s Grave Road, Maple Street, Obilivia Lane, Brighton Circle, Badger Road, Windhurst Lane, Aegis Street, Aligheri Street, and the Downtown area goes through a rapid cycle of certain areas, so that may become a bit disorienting, so just a warning in advance if you wish to take post there.”

Jhonen looked over the map. “Honestly I’ll go downtown. The city is there, and if Prince is like my Nny- most of his walks are through the city,” he said, looking over at the different stores and buildings in the area.

A beep at the door heralded the arrival of Tak. “So what’s the set up?” She paused. “Actually, Squee and Pep are right behind me. Wait a moment, would you?”

The duo came in, weary and cold.

“Thanks for waiting, TAK. Not like you could have held the door open.”

“She really couldn’t have - there’s bio-scans for each key card swipe.”

Pep grumbled. He didn’t have to like it.

“So what did we miss?”

Edgar continued, uninterrupted by the appearances. “I’ll take Grave Road, I trust that Jhonen and Tenn haven’t seen Nny personally, but Nny is fast and I’m sure things have been busy in their house anyway,” He stood in front of the screen where familiar houses stood in a row. Few cars went by.

Lil’ Shit shook their head.

“Nᴏᴛ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ. Gʀᴀᴠᴇ Rᴏᴀᴅ ɪsɴ'ᴛ ᴀ ᴄᴏɪɴᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ɴᴀᴍᴇ, ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄɪᴛʏ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛ. I'ʟʟ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴍᴏɴᴇʏ ᴏɴ Pʀɪɴᴄᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀᴛ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ - I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ғᴇᴇʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ.“

“You misunderstand, Little Shit, was it? Edgar won’t be physically going anywhere. We’re just going to watch the screens.”

“No one will be going anywhere without a plan, okay?” She called over her shoulder as she went back to the top of the stairwell to wave the rest of the group in.

“We are up here,” she walked down to the middle of the stairs again, same militaristic stance as before, “TAK, Brother Pep, Brother Squee. Come with me.”

“Father Vee’s already surveying Downtown cameras, Edgar took Grave, and I still haven’t heard confirmation from Little Shit where they will be looking.”

“Maple, Oblivia,Brighton, Badger, Windhurst, Aegis, and Aligheri. Take your pick.”

“Let me know if you see anyone who looks like Nny. Sometimes cameras can skew appearances. Even if you see Nny at an earlier point of time, we still will benefit from that, retracing steps is important in this case.”

Jhonen nodded, concentrated on the screens. So far- he didn’t really see Nny….just a bunch of people walking around…he payed attention to each person who managed to pop up on the screen.

“I’ll take Maple. It’s a major road, so the odds are high he’s gone down it at least the once, especially to leave the apartments.”

“We’ll take Aegis, Aligheri, and Windhurst - the amount of obfuscation that’s on those streets - it’s irrational to assign anyone else to them.”

Squee nodded. “Windhurst is the only street that ISN’T warped, but it rounds out the quadrant.”

Edgar had felt incredibly touched by Lil Shit’s offer of companionship. Although misguided, the fact that the service pet had even spoken up made him smile, “It’s alright, Lil Shit. I’ll be right here with you. Before any of us go anywhere we’ve gotta find Nny.”

Lil’ Shit looks to Edgar, still worried, but it dawns on them that A NEW PERSON, TENN, can hear them! Despite the solemnity of the situation, their tail wags.

“Yᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴍᴇ?”

No. Bad Lil Shit. Concetrate. Think about the options. “…Bʀɪɢʜᴛᴏɴ Cɪʀᴄʟᴇ ɪs ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ʟᴀʀɢᴇ. I'ᴍ sᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘʟᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴀs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴʟʏ ʙᴇɴᴇғɪᴛ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ INFINITE EYES. I'ʟʟ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ Bʀɪɢʜᴛᴏɴ.”

Tenn loves dogs, of course being around five at once nearly twenty-four/ seven, so she smiles at Lil Shit wagging his tail.

She nods, albeit being a bit confused, it shows on her face, “Well a talking service pet doesn’t exactly faze me as much as any random person. I mean, you’re no stranger to my family and friends.”

“Good choices to you all. I wish you luck, I’ll be keeping an eye on the current monitors. I’ve set up an algorithm that should alert me should Nny appear in any current shot.”

Jhonen kept an eye out, Nny didn’t seem anywhere! However, what he noticed might have some clues of Prince’s whereabouts. In the camera feed, he noticed a pattern; a slight decrease in people. He saw people zoom by and then end up on the floor, knowing that Johnny was out there; the people on the floor were most likely dead. However, it’s tricky to catch, unless you really pay attention. So, Jhonen kept a watchful eye, hoping that the killer would pop out of the shadows.

Tak’s eyes widened, and she nearly moved her head to glance back at her adopted sister - but she restrained the impulse, never looking from her screen.

“Tenn, I couldn’t understand what Lil’ Shit said. Never have been able to. Squee, Pep, Dads, Todd, Edgar, Prince? Yeah, they can. I can’t. Dib can’t -” She cut off her trail of thought. So how can YOU?

“Guys, I caught him going northwest from the apartments.”

Squee’s eyes widened in alarm, briefly glancing away from Windhurst to Tenn, then right back. “Tenn- Tak- do you think it’s because of that THING that Tenn can hear them? Also, still nothing on my end.”

“Nothing on mine.”

Edgar had barely ever interacted with Vasquez and Co., finding that seeing another Nny who was distinctly different from his Prince and also had been a source of much unintentional heartbreak wasn’t worth any get-togethers. He certainly hadn’t learned much about Jhonen’s alien daughter, Tenn, aside from when he gushed about her or Tak had mentioned something.

He was alarmed and quite frankly wary now that he knew Tenn could understand Lil Shit. It was just his nerves.

Instantly his attention was brought to the screen where he saw Nny come on screen, walking down the street. Edgar called for everyone’s attention. He watched as Nny seemed to pause near the old 777 and then… walk almost in a daze into the dilapidated shack.

He blinked almost non believing.

“He went into 777.”

Lil Shit was discomfited by the fact that Tenn could in fact hear them. The rules regarding who COULD were pretty clear by now. “I ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛ, ɪᴛ’s sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴍᴇ. Yᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ FEEL ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ sʏsᴛᴇᴍ… ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ DO ғᴇᴇʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. Sᴏʀᴛ ᴏғ.”

It dawned on them what Edgar had said. “Wᴀɪᴛ - ʏᴏᴜ sᴀᴡ Pʀɪɴᴄᴇ? Aᴛ- Aᴛ 777?” Lil Shit shifted nervously. “Oʜ ᴛʜɪs ɪsɴ'ᴛ ɢᴏᴏᴅ - ᴛʜɪs ɪsɴ'ᴛ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴀᴛ ALL.”

Tenn didn’t have enough time to continue entertaining Lil Shit’s observation. She bolted over to Edgar’s station.

“That was recorded earlier today. Experience tells me that any Nny going to a 777 and not coming back out is not a good sign.”

Jhonen heard the commotion and went over to investigate. His eyes widened, he didn’t know Prince that well- but any Nny going into 777 was NOT good.

“Oh fuck.”

Tak bolted up, worry all over her face and demeanor. “Edgar- He LEFT 777 for a REASON- the ghosts- they’re still there- aren’t they?” Her eyes have nothing but fear in them - but not fear of Prince- fear FOR Prince.

“Fuck- Eff lead him there- and I hope I’m not right as to WHY - I’d rather the murders to what I fear.”

Pepito’s eyes widen. “So for one: there are GHOSTS there. Two, they caused Prince to LEAVE 777, presumably for his safety. And THREE: HE WENT BACK?” He gets out of his seat.

“WHY THE FUCK ARE WE STILL HERE?”

Squee nods. “Pep has a point - Prince is clearly in danger on two fronts.”

“Nny had told me when he was in the throes of the worst days of his life there were two doughboy entities. Obviously we know it’s the work of one. But there’s two different ones… one that he told me wanted to be alive and do things outside of Nny’s control and one that just wanted to end Nny and be set free of a physical presence. To serve a master. To serve whoever had a hold on Lil Shit… Judging by the circumstances.. that would make it be that it’s the former one… Mr. Eff. And I don’t think it’s fair to saw that he just went back. Obviously he was under some type of trance. We need a plan before we jump the gun, we have to expect the strangest and prepare for the worst.”

Tak shifted uncomfortably. “I’m well aware of the… stranger things. I saw the house when Lil Shit was a barely-uncontrollable BIG Shit. …I’ve seen… some of the current situation, as well.” She pauses, unsure of how much to say. She glances to Jhonen.

“I’ll just say that I’ve seen an unmanageable Eff before. We were lucky that the situation was what it was - both Jhonen and Nny. It- we all would have died.” She goes silent. “I’m scared. I don’t think the way things went before will work again- not when Eff has the upper hand with territorial knowledge.”

“If you look in Prince’s post, there’s still parts of him there. He’s not entirely gone which can be used to our advantage. Obviously we all know Nny is incredibly strong and has only gotten stronger, despite the contrary being said by Eff. He’s holding on for us and he’s asking for help. However, I too fear that what TAK has done before might not be so effective.”

She looks to Jhonen, having only heard what happened with Nny and seeing the aftermath in the form of a scar, of course that was the work of Psychodoughboy and not Eff, but still, it was worrying to say the least. Tenn also knew some things, but just like Tak, she didn’t know what was in the open and what wasn’t.

Jhonen looked back at his daughter, and then spoke up.

“We should all be very cautious nevertheless, the last thing i’m sure we want is for Prince to cause harm to himself or others. We need a strategy, and a plan, so that we can approach the situation without getting too hysteric or too cruel. If we get out of line, it could get way more serious.”

Squee spoke up. “…Has nobody been looking at the newest post from Prince? ‘Into the house Johnny, It’s time to finish painting that wall.’ Lil’ Shit’s not IN the wall. This seems like Eff’s getting revenge - or attempting to open a new cell that will never be created.”

“What does he have to gain then,” Edgar glanced in confusion to Squee.

“Just revenge? If a cell can’t be created… and there’s no master there… what is this thing’s end game? Could it really be that vengeful where it would just want Nny to kill for the sole purpose of… killing? He still kills.”

His brow furrows. “Unless.. Eff just wants us gone so that Nny is left with no-one… or even worse. Trap him in that house- isolate him until he’s right back where he started… In any case, Jhonen is right, we need to eradicate as many risks… and eliminate as much harm as possible.”

Lil Shit curls up. This doesn’t sit right. “Uɴғᴏʀᴛᴜɴᴀᴛᴇʟʏ - ᴛʜᴀᴛ’s… ᴛʜᴀᴛ’s ᴀ D-Bᴏʏ’s ᴍᴏᴅᴜs ᴏᴘᴇʀᴀɴᴅɪ.”

“Doughboys are predictable, that’s about the only thing we can expect from them. Is that they want one thing and that’s to have control over something, whether it’s to destroy or self-destruct.”

Tenn taps her chin. “We still don’t have a plan…I don’t know if fighting is the right way to go, but knowing the doughboys… how they work… how things like them can make people into someone they’re not-“ She gives another much shorter glance to Jhonen, “We might have to. But if anyone has any other ideas say it right now. We need to hurry though… whatever we come up with, we need to implement it soon.”

Jhonen doubted there was another solution to all this. Unfortunately, it seems the thing infecting prince wasn’t just gonna let go if you fucking asked! He stayed silent, unable to come up with any alternative solutions.

Tak stood up. “I’ll go.”

“I went in when THAT happened. I went in when Lil Shit wasn’t so little and was quite nearly unmanageable. I- I need to. I can fight him off, use the PAK legs to get him restrained, then use my implant.” And pray it works.

“For me, failure is not an option.”

Squee could only bite his lip. He’d go, if only in hopes that it would take Prince’s guard down to see ANY Squee there - but he knew that if things got BAD - it would be back to step 1 with his recovery.

“I can’t go. But I’ll keep an eye on the monitors?” he said, ending it as a question.

Pepito looked to his side. Of course - if it came down to blows and the worst situation came to pass - no. He couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t let his Squee see that. “I can see about boarding 777 off from the rest of the world for an hour or so - even then, that might be pushing what I can do,” he admitted.

“I’ll go too. I shouldn’t have let this go on so long and I should have been there in the first place. I need to see he’s at least a little okay and I want to be there for him when he… I want to be there for him,” Edgar finishes with a sigh.

Lil Shit manifests several tendrils ending in various sharp objects.

“I ᴀʟsᴏ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴄᴛɪғʏ ᴛʜɪs. I ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ I ᴀᴛᴇ ʜɪᴍ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜɪs ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ. I ᴍᴜsᴛɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴅɪɢᴇsᴛᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ ᴀs ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴀs I ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ.”

Tenn gave a grim smile to the determined group, nodding.

“I would like to tag along, but only if I am needed. If there’s nothing I can do, or if you believe you have it covered then I won’t. I just want to help the best way I can.”

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stormedchaos · 7 years ago

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LORI COMES LATE TO THE PARTY A.K.A RPC POSITIVITY WEEK !!

so i am an unorganised wreck of a human being ( as you all know ! ) but i do want to acknowledge this, because i think too often our community drowns under negativity and elitism and generally can be kind of toxic, especially to smaller fandom, less ‘popular’ blogs and to new people ( especially if you’re a new multi or god forbid an OC ) so for the next two weeks i’m going to do various little things like i did today and yesterday with posting icons && gifting people things && at some point i will get around to a follow forever this week too !!

This is just a smol shout out to the blogs that i love and some of the friends i’ve made in this community ( mostly river.dale ) in the last year !!

@brassloyalty - EMs my WIFE && honest to god one of my bffs. i love you, and our ships and your continuous dedication to SP in making him such a multi-layered beautiful disaster of a muse, i’m so thankful to have you in my life, you are honestly a fucking treasure.

@kalxidoscopc - can you believe we’ve only been friends a couple of months? what can i say you are the Archie to by JB, the Sweet to my Vee. your writing and graphics are out of this world beautiful && you are a gem of a human being, and freaking hilarious #virgopower

@southsidelover - Z lbr babe, you’re actually Toni Topaz, right? but seriously, what a beautiful human inside, out. Your love of Toni and how you have fleshed her out across universes in just incredible. 11/10 human being right here, with bomb ass writing skills that i’m kinda jealous of ;)

@chaosblossomed - AAAH! i don’t have the words for how much i love your Cheryl, you were one of the first Cheryl’s I ever wrote with and i remember just falling in love with your portrayal and being like ‘shit, someone who REALLY gets Cheryl.’ you’re such a sweet person, and always an absolute delight to talk to OOC.

@yourpaljughead - WE’RE THE ICONIC SIBLING DUO that just about says it all, right? I adore V, and adore her portrayal of Juggie, always a joy to see on the dash on popping up in discord, i can literally talk to you for days about our babies. your love of one (1) boy is beautiful and you can see it in your writing. Also V is a total babe, duh.

@mademiistakes - MEG! ily, and out ability to craft up the weirdest of ships that work like SO SO MUCH. who would have thought that FP would be in love with Penny, but here we are ! JB’S MOM! how can i not love you & your beautifully unique portrayal of your muses! my lil cupcake, i’m keeping you.

@forbiddenfrut - i think it goes without saying that you are MY SISTA, we’ve been friends for forever, and i don’t know what i’d do without you some days. your writing is a gift, even the smallest of threads ( lol like we do many of those ) you manage to craft so beautifully. you’re the Lexie to my mark, the Alex to my Jo, the B to my V. My twisted sister for life, and i fucking love you babe, like real talk, love you.

@weatheredworn - started out with Amy & Mark and look where we are now? we might to talk everyday but we have that kinda thing were you can just fall right back in and i love that about our friendship. you are an amazingly talented writer, and graphics maker ( holla this girl made my amaze icons ) we’re like what? two years in now, yeah you ain’t getting rid of me now bby ;)

@ofcatears - idk why it took us to long to write together but i am so glad we are, bc let be real Jason and Josie would rule the damn school, Kitty Queen & Football King, sign me tf up girl! OOC you are a sweetheart and so easy to talk to! looking forward to seeing where these two hotheads take us <3

@oftroubledsouls - Stiles is making grabby hands, i had to tell him to sit down. your Derek is ON POINT 11/10 WOULD RECOMMEND. honestly, your grasp on him and have you have made him your own is beautiful and i love it so much, total respect for you sticking to what YOU believe in always, your writing is always a treat to see on the dash and you’re such a babe to talk to and fangirl over out babies with!

@crescentpalmed - i fucking love that you keep betty true to her character, i have so much respect for you for doing that, and it means so much to see her treated with the respect her mental illness deserves. you are such a joy to talk to, you’re open and honest and i respect that hella, lovely human being who deserves all the love.

@undeciided - giiiiirl!! we gotta write more together and that is TOTALLY on me, but I ADORE you’re muses so much, your Cheryl & Veronica will always have a very special place in my Jay-Jay’s heart!! You’re writing is always amazing, and your characterization for each of your muses is on point! you’re actually the sweetest human bean ever to grace tumblr for sure, ILY <3

OKAY SO THIS TURNED OUT WAY LONGER THAN IT WAS SUPPOSE TO BE !! I HAVEN’T INCLUDED EVERYONE I WOULD LIKE TO BC I AM DOING A FOLLOW FOREVER THIS WEEK !! ONE LOVE GUYS <3

#rpc positivity week #🌪 ❛ ride or die ❜ [ promos ]#🌪 ❛ out of chaos ❜ [ ooc ]

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shitmodelmanagement-blog · 7 years ago

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For adolescents blessed with willowy good looks, the fashion world offers the prospect of glamour, celebrity, and wealth. But this, for many, is what the beginning of a modeling career can actually look like:

On her first test shoot as a 15-year-old, Dasha Alexander said, a photographer held a camera in one hand and digitally penetrated her with his other — a move, he explained, that would make the pictures more “raw” and “sensual.”

When Coco Rocha refused to get naked on set as a 16-year-old, she said, the photographer replaced her with a girl who was younger and more obedient. Months later, a famous photographer simulated an orgasm as he took Rocha’s picture.

By the time Lenka Chubuklieva was 17, she said, an agent had repeatedly groped her, a photographer had thrown her on a bed and kissed her, and another photographer had masturbated in front of her and threatened to ruin her family in Ukraine if she told anyone.

“If people really understood what goes on behind the glamour of the industry, they would be mortified,” said Abbey Lee, an Australian model who, despite having been fondled on sets, describes herself as “one of the lucky ones.”

Emboldened by the #MeToo movement, more than 50 models spoke to the Globe Spotlight Team about sexual misconduct they experienced on the job, from inappropriate touching to assaults. Some are seeking to expose serial predators and those who enable them. Others are demanding new legal protections and calling for radical reform of a youth-obsessed industry they say has left them feeling exploited, treated like “meat” and “clothes hangers,” and, in the words of one model, “pimped out” by their agents.

Collectively, these models — predominantly females, although also males — made credible allegations of sexual misconduct against at least 25 photographers, agents, stylists, casting directors, and other industry professionals. In many instances, Spotlight reporters verified the accounts with third parties or examined records such as e-mails.

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Some of the alleged victims were willing to talk publicly, but others spoke on condition of anonymity because they still work in fashion and fear reprisal. The Globe does not identify alleged victims of sexual misconduct without their consent.

The accused men include some of the most well-known powerbrokers in the multibillion-dollar fashion industry and were often named by multiple women — in one case, seven — for alleged sexual misconduct.

Among them: Patrick Demarchelier, who was Princess Diana’s personal photographer; David Bellemere, whose photos have appeared on the covers of Elle and Marie Claire Italy; and Greg Kadel, who has shot for mega brands like Victoria’s Secret and Vogue.

Models also identified photographers Andre Passos and Seth Sabal, who often did test shoots that models usually pay for themselves to build their portfolios, and Karl Templer, who, as one of the world’s most powerful stylists, has worked with Coach, Zara, and Tommy Hilfiger.

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All of the accused men denied the allegations against them, and many complained that they can’t fully defend themselves when the Globe protects the identities of alleged victims, including by not always disclosing names, dates, and locations to them.

One photographer insisted some sexual encounters were consensual, and others said models may have misunderstood the touching and positioning that can be part of their jobs. But models say these are merely justifications for widespread abuses that have been part of the business for decades.

After Globe inquiries last week, Conde Nast, a media conglomerate that includes Vogue, Glamour, and GQ, said it has stopped working for now with Demarchelier and Kadel, and Victoria’s Secret said it has suspended its relationship with Kadel.

The fashion world, according to industry veterans, is rife with sexual misconduct for reasons built into the business. Models are usually minors when they enter the field, a highly sexualized adult world with little supervision and no job protections. Many Hollywood actresses, who helped start last fall’s #MeToo movement, at least have the option to join a union.

And the very nature of models’ work involves the marketing of seduction. At times, they are asked to dramatize sexual behavior they may not yet have experienced in real life. They regularly undress in front of colleagues and often appear scantily clad, sometimes with no clothes at all, to sell everything from watches to lingerie.

It is an industry, the models told the Spotlight Team, where the sexual and financial exploitation of teenagers is almost routine. Nearly 60 percent of models interviewed by the Globe said they had been touched inappropriately during work-related situations, the violations ranging from unwanted kissing to rape. Yet, for decades, victims of sexual misconduct in the fashion world have struggled to be heard and taken seriously.

Modeling, they say, may be work that accentuates their beauty and sensuality, but it is still work. “It’s a job, and just because you see a picture of me in underwear, that’s not an invitation to come to my bedroom,” said Chloe Hayward, a British model who said fending off propositions by photographers is common for her and many of her peers, especially early in their careers.

But models say they rarely complain, since doing so could get them labeled “difficult” and derail their professional aspirations. Still, spurred by the ongoing uprising over sexual harassment, more models are speaking out in hopes that change will finally come to their industry.

In recent weeks, model Kate Upton, famous for her appearances in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, and model Miranda Vee accused Guess cofounder Paul Marciano of sexual assault, allegations that have rocked the company. He denies the accusations.

Under growing public pressure, designers and brands pledged greater protections against sexual harassment in the days leading up to New York Fashion Week, a high-profile event that ran through Friday. But the basic safeguards put into place, such as private dressing rooms so models don’t have to get naked in public, only underscore how vulnerable the models have been.

In the immediate aftermath of the Harvey Weinstein scandal last fall, Cameron Russell, a model who grew up in Cambridge, Mass., took to Instagram to protest the widespread mistreatment of models with the hashtag #myjobshouldnotincludeabuse.

Within two days, Russell had collected hundreds of accounts of sexual misconduct. Some of the alleged predators were painfully familiar to Russell: They had victimized her in the early years of her career. Russell began posting models’ accounts on her Instagram page — keeping victims anonymous and redacting the names of the accused — and asked others to share their stories.

“The last 48 hours has been devastating,” Russell wrote on Instagram at the time. “We know what is happening in fashion. We tolerate it and ignore it and excuse it every day. We all know who the perpetrators are and we continue to work with them. STOP. Advertisers and magazines, stop hiring these people. Agencies, stop sending them talent. Stop today. Do not wait until lawyers get involved. Do the right thing because the wrong thing is horrific.”

Two weeks later, Vogue and its parent company, Conde Nast, banned Terry Richardson — a prominent photographer who had been dogged in the media for years by misconduct allegations, including exposing himself to models and pressing his genitals on a model’s face — from shooting for its magazines. Richardson, who is under investigation by the New York City Police Department, has denied any wrongdoing.

“It’s interesting and frustrating that now people want to finally pay attention,” said Rocha, a Canadian model who began speaking out about Richardson’s behavior roughly a decade ago after, she says, he pretended to have an orgasm as he photographed her. There are “people at the top who no doubt have heard these stories for the last 20 years,” she added, “and haven’t done anything.”

Consider the case of photographer Patrick Demarchelier, who has maintained superstar status despite allegations that he has long preyed on young women.

Russell’s Instagram posts led one of Demarchelier’s former photo assistants to write in October to Vogue editor Anna Wintour about relentless advances by Demarchelier beginning when she was a 19-year-old intern, according to an e-mail reviewed by the Globe.

As his subordinate, she told the Globe, she eventually gave in to his sexual demands, feeling that she could not continue to reject him without endangering her position. When she did resist, she said, he would later berate her on the job.

The woman, who asked to remain anonymous, urged Wintour to prevent Demarchelier from having access to other young women.

“It hurts my heart so much to think of how many girls, many my own daughter’s age who have had to fend off or give in to his advances because I didn’t speak up at the time,” the woman wrote in another e-mail that was circulated to a modeling group. “I remember many test shoots with teenage girls where Patrick’s team of assistants (including me) was dismissed for the day only to find naked photos of the girl in the darkroom the next day.”

The Globe interviewed six other women who accused Demarchelier of unwanted sexual advances, including thrusting a model’s hands onto her genitals and grabbing another model’s breasts, as well as making vulgar propositions. Most spoke on the condition of anonymity because they fear career repercussions for speaking out against people with so much clout in the fashion world.

Four years ago, Demarchelier allegedly asked a teenage model, “Can I lick your pussy?” and indicated he could make her famous if she said yes. Shocked, the model, who detailed the exchange to the Spotlight Team, said no and left the Paris hotel where the shoot was supposed to take place.

“I wasn’t sure even if I understood his English correctly,” she recalled in an interview with the Globe, but then he repeated the question verbatim. “I said, ‘You should be ashamed, and I will never see you again.’ ”

About two years later, she said, she was sent to a New York City shoot with Demarchelier, despite having told her agents she no longer wanted to work with him. There, she said, he again posed the same crude question. The Globe corroborated her account with a subsequent agent.

“Everyone is trying to take advantage of you,” the model said. “At one point I was like, do I really have to do this to succeed? Do anything?”

Asked by the Globe about the various sexual misconduct allegations, Demarchelier said it was “impossible” that the multiple complaints against him were true. “People lie and they tell stories,” he said. “It’s ridiculous.” Demarchelier said he has “never, never, never” touched a model inappropriately. Noting that he is married, he called the accusations “pure lying” by models who “get frustrated if they don’t work.”

On Feb. 2, Demarchelier told a Spotlight reporter he still worked for Conde Nast. “I shoot for everybody,” he said. Conde Nast said that although the company decided in December to stop commissioning new work with Demarchelier, it didn’t officially notify him until recently. In a Feb. 10 statement, two days after being contacted by the Globe, Conde Nast said: “We have informed Patrick we will not be working with him for the foreseeable future.”

Photographers like Demarchelier wield enormous influence because they not only take pictures, but also often select which models will appear in magazines. As a result, models desperate to make money, or at least make a name for themselves, can become easy targets for men with connections to prestigious brands.

For some teenage models, it’s a traumatizing rite of passage to be sent alone to a photo shoot at the home or studio of an adult male photographer who pressures them to undress or perform a sex act. If I say no, they often wonder, is this the end of my modeling days?

Seth Sabal and Andre Passos are two of the photographers who models said exploited them when they were teenagers.

Three models have accused Sabal of sexual harassment during the mid-2000s. One of them, who asked to be identified only by her middle name, Teresa, said she was 17 when she was given alcohol and asked to take off her underwear as Sabal allegedly shot up her skirt.

An attorney for Sabal denied all the allegations and said, “At no point in time did he ever ask or force a model to do anything she was uncomfortable with, or certainly that was not his intention.” The attorney added: “Seth agrees and feels the industry is rampant with drugs, sex, and abuses of power, discrimination.”

In the case of Passos, former model Dasha Alexander said she was 15 when he inserted his fingers in her vagina while taking her picture about 20 years ago, saying it would give the photos “more emotion.”

Passos, who is living in Brazil, texted a response to a Globe reporter: “I have already suffered enough consequences out of this absurd story. . . . I was a victim as well as the model was a victim of her parents and agency to send her out in the world in such a tender age in the hands of an evil industry. An industry that never knew how [to] educate [these] girls, that only looked at profit and fame no matter what.”

Passos said he has never engaged in a sex act with a model involving his fingers. He also volunteered that he has faced charges of misconduct in the past: “I went to court for this and was not guilty,” he wrote.

Passos did not respond to questions asking what court he appeared in and the name of the victim, and the Globe could not locate any records. According to Alexander, she never told her parents about Passos’ alleged assault or went to court over it. So it is unclear whether his text message refers to a separate incident with a different model.

Male models said they have also been subjected to sexual misconduct by some of the industry’s top photographers, including Mario Testino and Bruce Weber. Several brands and magazines, including Conde Nast, Burberry, Michael Kors, and Stuart Weitzman, severed ties with one or both of the men after a New York Times story in January identified them as alleged sexual predators.

When model RJ King was 18, he said, he was sent by his former agency to a photographer’s Manhattan apartment to be considered for an upcoming job. There, with no one else present, the photographer casually offered him beer and drugs and then sexually assaulted him while he was changing his clothes, King said.

“When he finished,” King said, “it was the lowest I probably have ever felt.”

The incident, King said, left him wondering: ��Is this what the industry is like? Is this what I’m going to continue to have to face?”

For many models, the answer is an emphatic and devastating yes.

Abuses can also occur when models are posing for major brands and magazines. One model said that during a shoot she was called a “whore” and “hooker” by a Dior executive, and a teenager who resisted going topless for German Vogue said the photographer suggested that a male model forcibly have sex with her to “loosen her up.”

Both companies denied any knowledge of these incidents and said they don’t tolerate sexual harassment.

Former Calvin Klein chief marketing officer Kim Vernon spoke generally about sexual misconduct: “I’m aware that it has happened in the industry and I believe all these recent measures to discuss and expose and correct the behavior are extremely important. . . . I don’t think brands have knowingly turned their head the other way.”

Ostensibly, modeling agents have a duty to safeguard their young clients from such situations. But many models say their professional shelf lives are so short that agents are more loyal to photographers and companies, forcing them to navigate troubling encounters on their own.

“Modeling agencies aren’t protecting these girls; they care more about the money,” said Carolyn Kramer, a former codirector of the Marilyn Agency in New York who now owns a Provincetown art gallery. “If you’ve got a $30 million exclusive Ralph Lauren worldwide contract available to you as a model agent, but you’ve heard rumors about the photographer being a scumbag, you’re taking a booking. You don’t care about the model. . . . I was complicit. I own up to it.”

Many models told the Globe that agents frequently remind them that legions of other attractive young people are available to take their places, including from overseas. About 20 of the models interviewed described highly exploitative relationships with their agents, who work for many of the top New York firms.

Some said their agents gave them drugs and alcohol, withheld earnings, coerced them into sexual relationships as teenagers, failed to inform them that photo shoots would require nudity, encouraged them to sleep with photographers to advance their careers, and sent them to sets with known predators, among other transgressions.

“Everyone knew the names of photographers making advances and using their power against young women,” said Trudi Tapscott, a former agent for Elite Model Management and DNA Model Management.

Tapscott said she used to warn models about certain men, but she now acknowledges that’s not as effective as saying to photographers: “ ‘We’re not going to work with you ever again.’ . . . What makes it better is getting that photographer out of the equation.”

Greg Kadel was one of the photographers whom Tapscott said she heard complaints about because he allegedly insisted that models pose nude or topless, and treated his shoots like a “personal playground.” Some models described far more extreme behavior.

One model said she hadn’t yet finished high school when her agent took her to a fashion party in New York City where adults gave her cocaine and alcohol — a vodka soda, her agent specified, because “that wouldn’t make me fat.”

At the end of the night, the model’s agent allegedly asked Kadel to put the stumbling teenager in a cab. Kadel did, but he jumped in the car, too, and directed the driver to a hotel. Once there, the model said, he pushed her against a wall, pulled off her clothes, and had sex with her. She spoke to her agent the next day.

“I told her what happened, and I was crying and upset,” the model recalled. “She convinced me that what happened was a good thing and hopefully my career would benefit from it.”

The agent also instructed her not to tell anyone because, she said, Kadel worked with major brands and magazines and complaining about him would hurt her chances of making it big.

Indeed, Kadel helped the teenager land gig after gig with Victoria’s Secret, all while subjecting her to ongoing harassment, she said, until she refused to work with him — a move that she says effectively ended her relationship with the lingerie empire.

The model, who asked that her name be withheld, confided in her boyfriend at the time about Kadel’s unwanted sexual advances, warned a modeling friend about Kadel’s behavior, and told a subsequent agent she was uncomfortable working with Kadel. All three corroborated her account, and the Globe reviewed e-mail exchanges between the model and Kadel, as well as topless photographs Kadel took of her when she was a minor.

Victoria’s Secret said it is conducting a “full third-party investigation of the allegations” and added: “We are a company that celebrates and serves women, so this behavior could not be more contrary to who we are.”

The model’s friend told the Spotlight Team that when she was a teenager she was accosted by Kadel, as well. After he photographed her for one of Vogue’s European editions at a private home, she said, she woke up in the middle of the night to find him lying on top of her, his tongue in her mouth, his hand holding hers.

The Globe interviewed two other models who requested anonymity and said Kadel made unwanted sexual advances, including kissing, when they were teenagers. A fifth model said Kadel asked her to do a private photo shoot and then pressured her to get nude, repeatedly asking her to take off her underwear during the hours-long session. All of the alleged incidents took place within the past dozen years.

Ernesto Qualizza, an agent for Kadel, vigorously denied the allegations. “Greg has never done that. He’s dated some girls and that’s happened. It’s all consensual between adults. He’s never used his power in any way that is unbecoming,” Qualizza said.

Kadel believes the encounters described to him by the Globe were consensual or “he misinterpreted a social situation” when he made a pass, according to Kadel’s attorney. The lawyer also said Kadel was working on a book and exhibition about photography and shot in hotels and private homes because they provided the atmosphere he was seeking.

A spokeswoman hired by Kadel provided additional comments, saying that Kadel “never sexually coerced or assaulted anyone in his life. As a creative professional for many years, Mr. Kadel has always accurately represented the intention or scope of his work and has always worked through a model’s agent and made sure that each model was fully aware and comfortable with the creative vision being pursued in any project before they signed on to participate.”

Then there’s David Bellemere, who gained international fame shooting for top fashion magazines. Madisyn Ritland was 19 years old and living in Paris when she wound up alone at his home for a photo shoot.

At the end of the session, she said, Bellemere grabbed her by the waist and stuck his tongue deep into her mouth. She dipped beneath his arms to escape his embrace, she recalled, but didn’t tell her agent at the time because, she said, he had made his own sexual advances.

Ritland said she was reluctant to continue working with Bellemere, but he was a gatekeeper for brands and magazines she aspired to be featured in. At an audition a month later, she said, he positioned her on her back on a couch, topless, then crouched on top of her with his camera, his knees clamping her ribs and his crotch hovering above her head.

“I felt like I had no choices,” Ritland said. “I didn’t feel like I had permission to have thoughts. I just felt like, OK, this is how it works.”

The Globe reviewed photos from the first test shoot and spoke with two of Ritland’s friends who corroborated her account.

Bellemere’s behavior is so well-known that two agents told the Spotlight Team they stopped sending models to shoot with him years ago. But only in the fall of 2016 did Victoria’s Secret cut ties with him. That move came after several of its highly paid contract models, known as “Angels,” complained about his inappropriate touching and kissing.

Bellemere said Victoria’s Secret never explained the decision to him. Any physical contact with models was the result of “pushing the girl to pose, directing,” he explained. “I do it to get the best picture. It’s not harassment.”

Myla Dalbesio’s uncomfortable encounter with Bellemere happened during a lingerie shoot in Paris for Lord & Taylor in 2015, as he pressed his body against hers and wagged his tongue at her to mimic oral sex, she said.

“I was really shocked,” Dalbesio recalled. “It felt really sexually charged and inappropriate.”

After the shoot, she said, Bellemere contacted her on Instagram with a photo of a naked woman with bondage marks and an accompanying message that said, “Let’s shoot private next time.” The Globe saw the message and photo and corroborated Dalbesio’s account with her fiance, in whom she confided at the time, as well as with an individual present at the Paris photo shoot.

A spokeswoman for Lord & Taylor said, “While we were not made aware of misconduct during that photo shoot, information about aspects of Mr. Bellemere’s behavior came to light recently.” The company also said it has not hired Bellemere since February 2016.

In an interview with the Globe, Bellemere said it was “surprising to hear” that models had complained about him and “there is nothing creepy” about his interactions with them on set.

“I’ve never been taking advantage [of models],” he said. “This is not true. I’ve never done anything like this in my life.”

Seasoned models say they are accustomed to the inevitable physical contact that results from working with photographers and stylists, such as having their clothing adjusted and being helped into different outfits.

But some models described experiences to the Spotlight Team that they say crossed the line of professionalism.

In interviews with the Globe, three female models who asked not to be identified accused Karl Templer, a top stylist, of yanking their breasts, touching their crotches, or aggressively pulling down their underwear without asking them during shoots.

One model described a shoot within the last several years in which Templer approached her while she was against a wall, topless.

“Karl comes up to me,” she recalled, “and gets down on his knees and yanks my underwear and my shorts down . . . really fast. I remember I’m gripping onto it with my finger and he’s still pulling.”

“He was trying to get me naked,” she said. “He was trying to pull off my clothes without my permission.”

The Globe corroborated her account with two friends and reviewed an e-mail she wrote to her agent before the shoot specifying she would not be comfortable with frontal nudity below the waist.

Templer, in a statement, said, “I deny these vague and anonymous allegations. If I’ve ever inadvertently made anyone feel uncomfortable, I’m truly sorry. Although physical interactions with models is a necessary aspect of my job as a fashion stylist, I’ve never touched anyone in an inappropriate way nor ever with any sexual intent. I’m always respectful of models, remain deeply committed to creating a safe and professional working environment and embrace the systematic changes that our industry is implementing.”

In addition, Templer’s lawyer referred the Globe to three former and current colleagues of Templer, all of whom said they have never seen him behave inappropriately and asked that their names not be published.

Numerous models said they have felt pressured to take topless or nude photos by people who could make or break careers. Declining such requests, or rebuffing sexual advances, can harm a model’s prospects.

During a shoot for a lingerie brand, model Alison Nix said, a photographer stuffed a $20 bill in her bra and asked how much he would have to pay to have sex with her. When Nix complained about his behavior, the client dropped her.

“It’s really difficult because you get punished,” Nix said. “At the end of the day, I’d rather lose clients than do things that are emotionally traumatic. But it’s a shame to have to choose between the two.”

Over the years, there have been various efforts to protect young models. New York, for example, passed a law in 2014 that classifies models under 18 as “child performers,” raising the bar for how often they can work and in what circumstances.

But industry insiders, and a report last summer from the New York State comptroller, say there is little enforcement of the law, and no similar national or international regulations. As a result, New York’s law would not have helped models like Ritland, who at age 16, while working overseas, found herself in a disturbing photo shoot for an Italian brand.

“I was a virgin, never had a boyfriend, never been kissed, and I was topless, rolling around with another male model, simulating — I have really no idea, but it was supposed to be sex,” she recalled. “Very young girls are meant to be simulating something that they have never experienced, and it’s just kind of strange to me that that’s a culture that exists.”

In December, several models testified about sexual harassment and financial exploitation before the New York City Commission on Human Rights, which is expected to release a report in March addressing their concerns.

Because models are independent contractors, they are exempt from workplace protections that cover most other employees. As a result, modeling can be tantamount to indentured servitude, with young men and women going into debt because their agencies charge them for rent, travel, copies of photos, and even the privilege of being listed on the agency’s website.

“Models are in a loophole area where they’re not protected by any of the laws carved out to help artists,” said Shivani Honwad, an attorney who works with a firm, Law on the Runway, that represents numerous models. “Modeling agencies are dictating if and when to pay models.”

Many models hope the time has come for the industry to acknowledge its deep-rooted problems and institute widespread reform. Baby steps have already begun.

In January, Conde Nast, which also publishes Vanity Fair and The New Yorker, created a new code of conduct that, among other reforms, bans drugs and alcohol from sets, prohibits work by models under 18, and says no model “should be pressured to expose themselves more than they feel comfortable.”

An official for Calvin Klein told the Globe that in coming weeks the company will roll out new policies “for safeguarding the well-being of fashion models,” such as requiring prior written consent for any photography that includes nudity or semi-nudity and creating a process for reporting misconduct.

“Policy changes alone will not change the industry’s culture or empower vulnerable individuals to come forward with complaints. We have seen codes of conduct come and go,” said Sara Ziff, founder of the nonprofit Model Alliance, which recently helped introduce a proposed bill called the Models’ Harassment Protection Act in New York. “Voluntary standards without meaningful education, proper complaint mechanisms, and independent enforcement are not going to work.”

Meanwhile, a New York organization called Model Mafia is encouraging models to create their own reforms. At a December meeting, models discussed having Uber-like reviews of photographers, writing scripts of “friendly one-liners” they could use to firmly rebuff photographers who proposition them, and creating a “buddy system” that would allow inexperienced models in uncomfortable situations to call more seasoned models for advice.

“Yes, we need high-profile perpetrators to be held accountable,” Russell, the model who started the #myjobshouldnotincludeabuse campaign, told the Globe. But what’s also needed, she said, is “recognition that many of us play a part in maintaining a work environment where abuse of power is acceptable.”

Zuzanna Krzatala, a Model Mafia member, said the fashion business needs to change “the twisted rules of the game.”

“If I quit, then someone else is going to take my job, take my space. They’re going to endure the same sort of harassment, disrespect,” Krzatala added. “It’s about changing the culture, once and for all.”

#shitmodelmgmt #shitmodelmanagement #boston globe #model mafia #Karl Templer #Vogue #condenast #greg Kadel #Victoria's secret #David Bellemer

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victoria-seaberg-blog · 7 years ago

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C1 - etiquette lessons

[HELLO! Here’s my fic for challenge 1. Thanks everyone for the rps @nathaniel-schreave @ladyvenusvale @ladyaadamaier and @aubree-gram and mentions of @phaniecastello @camille-marshall and @claraeclair you’re all amazing! PS this is unedited, so please ignore typos. I will post another fic later with the remaining rps in them but that won’t be part of challenge 1. Thanks to everyone who rp’d with me :)]

DAY 1: you’re too much of a drama llama

I wake up to the sound of my maids opening the curtains. Today is the first proper day of the selection. I can’t really explain what I’m feeling, it’s more of a mix between excitement and uncertainty. But there are also some nerves there. The morning is packed with activities. First we have an etiquette lesson, after that an interview with the Prince and then breakfast. The afternoon is free, so we can do whatever we want to.

My maids help me get ready. Nilje does my makeup as the other two straighten my hair. I still have to get used to the length of my hair but I couldn’t be happier with it. It looks amazing on me, if I say so myself. My dress today is a gorgeous light grey one with long sleeves and a deep V-neck. I don’t know if my maids are aware of this, but my dress yesterday also had a deep V-neck. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. Or they really want me to make an impression. The grey dress is gorgeous though, the embroidery makes it an immediate eye-catcher which is exactly what I need for the interview with the Prince.

I walk around the room, trying to find my name tag. Immediately I spot Stephanie. I can tell someone tried to tame down her hair, but I can’t say they’ve succeeded. Please let my seat be at the other table. No. And to make things worse, her seat is next to the girl across me. But let’s focus on the positive things for a second, my seat is right in front of the Queen and the two Princesses.

Some of the other girls are nervously chattering to one another. Thankfully they shut up when Lady Collette, our etiquette teacher, enters the room. I have heard stories about her from my maids, they seemed to be scared of her. Apparently she is very strict and intimidating. We will see about that.

“Good morning, ladies, I trust you all slept well.” She nods towards all of us. “My name is Collette Bennett and I am the royal planner. My job is to instruct you ladies on the proper etiquette for your stay in the palace. There will be no back talking, no obedience, and absolutely no unladylike conduct. This includes sabotage and gossip. If you respect me and listen to what I say, we will not have a problem.” My maids were right, she is strict and intimidating. But that doesn’t scare me, on the contrary it makes me respect her.

Lady Collette continues with her lesson. “Now, I am going to teach you all a proper curtsy.” She demonstrates a perfect, elegant curtsy. “You will do this as you greet a royal or anyone of importance. Prince Nathaniel will call each of you one by one for a short interview. You will address him as ‘your highness’ and curtsy, unless he says otherwise.” I make a mental note of that piece of information. Don’t forget this, Vic!

“After you’ve learned your greetings, we will get into the dining portion. Now, let us begin.”

The lesson is over before I know it. Before Lady Collette leaves she reminds us again about the curtsy and the right way of addressing the Prince.

As we’re waiting for the Prince to come, scan the girls sitting near me. To my left, there’s a girl with blonde hair. “Lady Clara” her name tag says. Across from her is Stephanie, who looks a bit awkward. She is exchanging some words with the girl across from me, I believe her name is Lady Camille but she prefers to be called by her last name. She has a certain look of responsibility over her.

Something hits me on the head, snapping me out of my thoughts. I sigh and turn around. Venus has a guilty look on her face. Of course it was her. Why god why? Her head makes me feel even more annoyed, “excuse you!” I exclaim.

The guilt in her face disappears, a smirk forms, “you’re excused.”

With my right ear I hear Stephanie laugh, which makes me more annoyed. However, I am not stupid. I know it’s not clever to start a fight with her right now, when I need to put Venus in her place.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, little Vee. But maybe you should pay attention to what Lady Collette just said, you obviously could learn a lot.” I know the comment made quite an impact on her because she rolls her eyes, “back on that high horse I see. I know plenty.”

I sigh, “What’s your problem?”

Venus raises her voice, “My problem? You keep acting like you’re better than me! Let’s face the facts, you’re just like the rest of us.”

That comment hits me hard, I have never acted as if I was better than anyone else. Why on earth would she think that? “Says the one who acts like she is this famous superstar.”

That’s when a third person decides to jump in. “I can tell you what you’re both acting like and it’s not ladies.” The blonde girl shifts her eyes between me and Venus, “you’re behaving like absolute children.”

Who on earth thinks she can get involved in my business? I shoot her a deadly glare, hoping that she realizes she has to stay out of this and leave me alone.

Venus on the other hand is not stepping down, coldly she says “you did not just call me a child, Aada. I don’t care for that tone.”

This is when I notice the other girls are all looking at us. Some look particularly scared, while others seem desperate for some drama. Some girls try to calm Venus down, telling her that they don’t want her to be send home for this.

“I do not act like a superstar.” Venus shifts her attention back to me again.

“Of course you don’t.” I say and roll my eyes. I’m done with this fight, so I turn around to face my own table again.

It has come to my attention that not one of those girls tried to calm me down. Not one. Until someone reaches for my hand, “hey, don’t act stupid.”

I fight the urge to pull my hand away and scream at her to mind her own business. But she does try to calm me down. Why Stephanie, out of all people?

I offer Stephanie a small smile, “I won’t.” God, a smile for Stephanie. Will never happen again. In the mean time the arguing of Venus and the blonde girl turned into a fight.

“Someone needs to calm Venus down though,” quickly I add, “I’m not the right person for that.”

That’s the cue Marshall needed, she raises her voice to an authoritative tone, “there isn’t gonna be any fighting, for anyone.”

It’s probably the wisest for me to keep my mouth shut. Someone behind me tries to tell Venus some loving words. But apparently it doesn’t help because Venus gets up. She mumbles an ‘I’m sorry’ before she leaves. From the corner of my eye, I can see the blonde girl following Venus.

“Oh my god, Aada, you’re one of the last people I want to see.” Venus exclaims.

So blonde girl’s name is Aada, that’s important to remember. I will come back to that later.

A few minutes later, the first girl is called out for her interview. I can’t help but feel a little nervous. I keep telling myself that he is just a person. This helps me to push my nerves far faraway.

Then it’s my turn. I get up and walk as elegantly as possible to the place where I’m supposed to be going.

As soon as my eyes meet his, all my nerves disappear. His face is handsome and he seems friendly. The way he is sitting there, I can’t really put my finger on it, but it is kind of homely and reassuring.

When I get close enough, he gets up and bows, “Hello Lady Victoria, I’m Prince Nate.”

I make a small curtsy, trying to remember what Lady Collette’s curtsy looked like. Feeling proud with the result I say, “Hello, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

Before I know it my time is up. As I walk away from the Prince, I can hear him laughing at my last comment. It makes me smile.

God it’s the first day, stop smiling. I’m not the easy-going, always-happy kind of girl. I find my seat again, whilst trying to get my resting bitch face back. This will be an interesting ride.

I’m walking around the palace a bit when I spot the blonde girl from earlier in the garden. I have to set the record straight, show her not to cross me again.

“Hey, you’re Aada right?”

The girl looks up, “yes. I don’t remember your name, sorry, but I do remember you from this morning.”

“I’m Victoria.” A fake smile comes to my face, “and don’t worry about not remembering my name, I’ll make sure you’ll never forget it.”

Aada gives me a small smile, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry about this morning by the way.”

Is she really trying to be all nice right now? “I appreciate your efforts this morning, but for next time don’t get involved in my business.”

“I wasn’t trying to. I just didn’t want either of you to get sent home.”

“How sweet. Don’t call me a child ever again.”

My statement obviously made her realize I am not going to back down. Therefore she drops the act of kindness. “There’s a difference between being a child and acting like one. However, if you’re going to get hung up on something so trivial perhaps we shouldn’t be speaking. I’m genuinely sorry, but you seem to not want my apology.”

When are people going to realize that I won’t back down without a fight. “Oh sweetie, I just wanted to make sure you know that you should not cross me.”

Aada might seem nice and innocent, but she definitely is not. “You know, I didn’t understand why Venus didn’t like you, but now I do.” She continues, “one of you has a decent chance to end up the next queen of Illéa. The other? Well, she’s standing right in front of me.”

Every muscle in my body tenses. “Wow, you really are a know-it-all. It’s interesting that you dare speak to me like that, where are your manners?”

“Well, meine Lieben, I have manners. I just don’t have respect for you.” Does she really have to throw in some German words? Annoying.

I offer her a smile, a sarcastic one indeed. “The feeling is mutual.”

“Oh, Bärchen, I don’t care about your opinion, so I don’t need your respect.” She smiles back condescendingly.

I really want to throw a chair in her face, “wow you keep surprising me, you seem so sweet but your personality isn’t that pretty.”

“I was raised by a woman just like you. I know a spoiled brat when I see one. You’ve never had to work a day in your life. Honestly, you’re probably shocked that you’ve been here nearly a full day and you don’t already have the crown on your head.”

Where’s a chair when you need one? “You’re cute, acting like you know me.” a fake smile spreads across my face, “guess what? You don’t know me. And you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“If I don’t know you then why are you getting so defensive? I feel sorry for you. Everyone deserves happiness. But it seems you still have quite a bit of searching to do.” Aada gives a small, but perfect curtsy and turns to walk away.

CHAIR!? “Because you’re attacking me,” I wave at her as she walks away, “see you later.”

Aada turns around for a moment, “perhaps you shouldn’t threaten people. And I don’t think we’ll be seeing one another. Best of luck.” At that she turns back and heads back towards the palace.

I sigh out of relief, that one won’t bother me anymore.

I walk back to my bedroom, where I find my maids. They look a bit awkward, something is off. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

They exchange a brief glare between each other. Wilda opens her mouth, but Nilje is faster. “We heard about your fights.” she blurts out.

That surprises me, I didn’t think word would spread around here so quickly. Before I can ask anything, Wilda jumps in “it isn’t our place to speak about that.” She shoots Nilje a warning glance. It obviously makes an impact because Nilje quickly turns around and starts organizing the little coffee table.

“You’re dismissed,” I say, “except for you Nilje.” Wilda and Aeki quietly disappear, I’m now left with Nilje. The girl��s face has gone pale and she looks as if she could start crying any moment. What kind of monster does she think I am?

“Don’t worry, nothing will happen,” I try to reassure her, “just tell me everything you’ve heard about my fights.”

Nilje looks confused, but then starts telling me everything. From the fight after the etiquette lesson this morning to my recent battle with Aada. She had overheard guards talking about. Good god, if the Prince finds out I will be kicked out immediately.

“What do I do?” I ask her, not sure if she knows a way to help me.

Nilje thinks for a moment, “stay out of fights, no more drama. And try to be nice to the other girls, it could be helpful to have some allies here.”

I nod my head, I know she is right. Who would have thought one of my maids would be the one to make me realize I need to change in order to have a fair chance in this selection.

After that I need some time alone to think.

A knock on my door startles me. Perhaps my maids forgot something. Or it could be a guard telling me I have to pack my stuff and leave.

My heart is beating a little faster than usual as I make my way over to my door. But when I open it, I’m surprised by who I see. Another selected. It’s Aubree Gram, I recognize her from some magazines. “Yes?” I ask, unsure of what she wants.

She walks into my room. “Hey sweet-cheeks, I have some horrible news for you. I was just torn over if I should tell you or not.” She sits down on my bed. Go ahead and invade my privacy. “On one hand hearing it may hurt you, but then if I didn’t tell you I’d be lying.”

Aubree is a toxic one, I can tell right away. “Like you care I something hurts me or not.” I sigh, “spill it.”

“Please I care about all of you girls. I’m such a major #feminist. I heard Addison and Fleur talking shit about you with Venus. Honestly, sometimes girls can be such condescending back stabbing bitches.”

Just like you. “And what makes you think I would believe anything you say?” I cross my arms.

“You don’t have to believe anything I say. I’m just a fellow selected trying to help a girl out.”

What’s wrong with me? Why is the drama always coming to me?

“How nice of you. What did they say about me then?”

Aubree has such a smug look on her face, like she is amazing. “They were talking about how you’re too much of a drama llama and shouldn’t have been so pissy over just a note. They’re embarrassed to be associated with you now.”

“And why would this hurt me? I couldn’t care less about them and their opinions.”

“I just thought you girls were friends. Suppose I was wrong.” She gets up to leave but stops right in front of and pats my head. I want to smack her hand away, but I have to remain calm. Don’t show any emotions. But then she says, “sleep well friendless.”

Thankfully she leaves right away, but that final comment stings. Nilje was right perhaps it would be convenient if I had some allies here.

#challenge one #victoria ryllie seaberg #selectionoc #c1

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racingtoaredlight · 7 years ago

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Top 10 top 10 pick QBs who were / are worse Jamarcus Russell

I saw some guy on Twitter making a joke that involved the assumption that Jamarcus Russell was the acknowledged worst QB of the last 40 years (and somehow made Deshaun Watson comparable to Michael Vick? It was dumb on multiple levels) and it got me spewing nonsense on that accursed website that got some great responses on other terrible QBs.

If you’re expecting a rigid analysis of bad QBs from the bowels of NFL history, you’ve come to the wrong place. But if you want my own list of highly drafted QBs that were actually worse than Jamarcus, here’s a listicle!

Before I dive into my own junk opinions I want to throw out some names that were crowd-sourced from twitter but don’t meet my criterion of highly drafted: Rusty Lisch (h/t Jay Vee), Scott Tolzien (h/t Butters), and Brodie Croyle (h/t Jayhawk.)

I’m doing a little bit of fact checking but not much as I let these fly. I’m using profootball-reference’s AV stat and looking for top 10 draft picks that never reached the lofty highs of Jamarcus’s AV of 7 in 2008.

1. Akili Smith, Bengals, #3 overall pick 1999

There are surprisingly few embarrassing pictures for a guy who was so incredibly bad. Akili stands out in my mind as being the worst guy I ever saw trying to play QB in the NFL and the numbers back that up. ANY/A is a stat that is used sort of widely. A good QB season is usually around 6 or 7, 5 and above is at least useful, Akili’s for 2000, the only season he started a majority of his team’s games? 2.81!

2. Art Schlichter, Colts, #4 overall pick 1982

I wanted to put Cade McNown here since he was in the same draft class as Akili Smith but he was picked just outside of the top 10 so I went with this classic piece of shit. People who love Ohio State will tell you that Schlichter could have been good without his personal demons but I’m here to tell you, folks, nothing supports that. I know he didn’t ever play there but the Colts were so high on what they saw from the #4 overall pick in 1982 that they drafted John Elway at #1 the next year. Schlichter didn’t play much but when he did he was among the least efficient QBs to ever suit up in professional football.

3. Heath Shuler, Washington, #3 overall pick in 1994

Heath Shuler gets too much credit for being a bad politician and not nearly enough for being a bad quarterback. I remember when he first got on the field in 1994 my dad was really excited by his strong arm and agility. Within a couple of weeks he had given up completely on Heath Shuler. Shuler’s last season in 1997 in New Orleans is a masterpiece of bad QB stats in the modern era. Statistically the Saints would have been better off not playing anybody at the QB position rather than let Shuler go out there.

4. Andre Ware, Lions, #7 overall in 1990

I hate to do this because that card there with all of his passing numbers listed played a big part in me becoming the draft loving, Heisman obsessed idiot that I am today. I probably should have considered just how many INTs are listed there but that’s not how my 13 year old brain worked. Ware did absolutely nothing in the NFL and I’m finally coming around to the realization that it wasn’t because the league was wrong and that he deserved more chances.

5. David Klingler, Bengals, #6 overall in 1992

The second Bengals pick and the second Houston Cougar to show up here, Klingler is great because NFL teams fell in love with him in 1990 for doing the same shit as Andre Ware but with even more INTs, then fell out of love with him in 1991 because he showed he couldn’t handle pressure and didn’t really have that great of an arm and the Bengals still took him at #6 overall. He did a lot worse in his career than I would have guessed and I already thought he was bad.

6. Todd Blackledge, Chiefs, #7 overall in 1983

Why, yes, that is Todd Blackledge getting sacked by Brian Bosworth. Blackledge getting drafted over Jim Kelly and Dan Marino is goddam unbelievable but you know what’s great? Even taking him over Tony Eason looks like the stupidest pick in the world and Eason is in a distant 5th place out of the 6 QBs picked in the first round of this fabled draft. Eason merely sucked. Blackledge is an all time bad player who managed to never start more than half of his team’s games in a season.

7. Kelly Stouffer, Cardinals, #6 overall in 1987

Stouffer never played a down for the Cardinals who drafted him after Neil Lomax had a career worst year in 1986. Is this cheating for the purposes of this post? Stouffer never actually signed with the Cardinals but they did trade away his rights for a first rounder and two second round picks. The Cards didn’t do many things right in those days but they dodged a bullet with Stouffer and got a good return in theory (I can’t find who they actually drafted with the picks but I’m not trying very hard) for his year of non-service. Lomax was pretty good again in 1988 but got hurt and retired. Stouffer did start 16 games for the Seahawks... over parts of five seasons.

8. Ryan Leaf, Chargers, #2 overall pick in 1998

After all these years and all of the words written about how bad he is it is shocking to look up the numbers and see just how bad Leaf was on the field. This guy was considered more or less equivalent to Peyton Manning coming out of school and the Chargers swore up and down they would have taken him at #1. For perspective on how bad Leaf was, Andre Wadsworth (#3 overall) and Curtis Enis (#5 overall) produced demonstrably more value for the teams that drafted them.

9. Jake Locker, Titans, #8 overall in 2011

Apologies to Miz but there’s actually no supporting evidence to suggest Hurt Locker would have ever been good even if he hadn’t been hurt all the time. In his defense the lows were not as low with him as they were with Jamarcus but the highs also weren’t as high and that doesn’t say much for his ability to actually play.

10. Blaine Gabbert, Jaguars, #10 overall in 2011

A lot of people think Colin Kaepernick’s case is unwinnable because they don’t think there will be any smoking gun of conspiracy but 1) people are stupid even when they have the job you want, 2) Blaine Gabbert played on the same teams as Kaepernick the last few years. Gabbert is still on an active roster and will probably get snaps this week. When Gabbert got the 49ers job away from an injured and suffering Kaepernick in 2015 he actually looked slightly better. And that was the best one guy played and by far the worst the other guy has ever played. Care to guess which is which? Gabbert is atrocious and has a long body of work to carry my thesis. 2011 was the year the draft occurred during a work stoppage and teams went bonkers drafting QBs under the (correct) assumption the league could force the union to accept a rookie salary cap and wage scale. That’s why Locker squeaked onto this list and how Gabbert got on here, as well. NFL teams haven’t been quite as overdraft crazy in the years since no matter how bad teams are due to poor QB play. My theory is that Gabbert was so bad that teams are scared to exploit an obvious market inefficiency - a high draft pick costs roughly backup QB money so if you miss you have a shitty backup but if you hit you have the most important position in sports at a dollar premium.

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