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lemoncrushh · 6 months ago

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Seven Six Five - Part Five

Summary: They met once seven years ago. Now music has made them cross paths again.

Warnings: smut, body image issues, angst. 18+ ONLY!

A/N: Enemies to Lovers. This was originally written and posted in 2020, right before the pandemic, so the story takes place then with flashbacks of 2013. Harry Styles x Plus Size OC, written in third person.

Part Five Word Count: 4.9k+

STORY PAGE

29 February, 2020 - New York, NY, USA

Bronwyn walked home from the Corner Cafe after an early lunch meeting with Antonella. There’d been no celebrity sightings this time, although she found herself checking her phone for new messages from Harry. None had come yet, and despite her knowledge that he’d be busy, she couldn’t hide the disappointment.

Arriving at her building, she took the steps and shoved her phone into her coat pocket. When she opened the door, she smiled at the postman who was doing his Saturday deliveries.

“Number 102, right?” he asked.

“Um, yes sir,” Bronwyn replied.

“Have a package for you.”

The postman handed her a large, thin box and asked her to sign for it. Perplexed as she hadn’t ordered anything, and was not expecting any post, she noticed the Express label on the front and the California zip code.

“Thank you,” she muttered, her eyes on the package as she took the stairs to her flat.

Shutting the door, she leant against it as her fingers found the edge of the box and pulled the tab. Who would be sending her something from California, she had no idea, but when she pulled out the familiar album cover, she gasped.

Harry.

Setting the record on the counter, Stevie’s figure adorning the cover in a red dress as she crouched on a black and white chessboard floor, Bronwyn, took her phone out of her pocket and shook one arm out of her coat. Pulling up Harry’s contact, she began to text him with one hand.

Did you have a record sent to me through the post?

Placing the phone next to the album, she shrugged out of her coat completely and hung it on the rack by the door. Running her hands through her hair, she didn’t expect to receive a reply right away, but was surprised when she heard the notification.

Oh good, it came.

???, she texted back.

Suddenly, her phone rang in her hand, causing her to almost drop it. Answering the call, Bronwyn went straight into her objection and confusion.

“The postmark says California. Why would you have a used record shipped to me from there?”

She heard Harry chuckle through the phone, and instantly she regretted not giving a proper greeting.

“It’s not just used, love,” he said. “It’s mine.”

“Yours?”

“From my personal collection. I had it sent overnight from my house.”

“W- Harry. W-why would you do that?” Realising she probably sounded vulnerable, Bronwyn tried to laugh it off, making a joke. “You couldn’t find a copy here in New York? I mean, this one is in near perfect condition, but I don’t reckon this album is that hard to find.”

“Mmm…” Harry sounded, sending a vibration through the phone. “That particular one is.”

“How so?”

“Look inside.”

Opening the sleeve, Bronwyn pulled out a sheet of paper with lyrics on it. Although she recognised the handwriting, it took a moment for it to register. Stevie’s.

“Oh my God!” Bronwyn shouted.

“Those are Stevie’s original lyrics to a song on there that I really like,” explained Harry.

“‘Ooh My Love’. It’s one of my favourites too.”

“She gave them to me,” Harry said. “Now they’re yours.”

“Oh God, Harry, I can’t accept this!” Bronwyn gasped as she sat down shakily on her sofa, the record and lyrics still in her hands.

“Why not?”

“This is...way too special. You should keep it!”

“I want you to have it,” he declared.

“Why?”

“Because you lost your copy of the album. Mine was just sitting there collecting dust. And you’re the only other person I know who would appreciate it as much as I do.”

Chills ran throughout her body as Bronwyn tried to catch her breath and evaluate her emotions.

“I don’t...know what to say…” she finally murmured, feeling her eyes start to well up.

“Say you’ll have dinner with me tonight.”

“Oh, Harry I-”

“I’m free all evening after...six o’clock. I’d really like to spend it with you.”

Unable to hold back the smile that crept on her lips, Bronwyn instantly felt a pang in her chest as she remembered.

“Harry, I’d love to,” she admitted. “But I have to work tonight.”

“Oh.” She could hear the disappointment in his one little word.

“It’s a local band,” Bronwyn continued. “From Queens. They’re playing downtown, and I’ve done a write-up on them before so they asked me…”

Her words stalling with a jolt, she had a brilliant idea. “Actually...would you like to join me?”

“Oh, I-”

“You totally don’t have to. You probably wouldn’t get recognised too much, at least not a mob. But I could understand if you don’t want t-”

“I’d love to,” Harry interjected.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Should be fun.”

“Great! Um...they go on stage around nine, and I have to be there a little early, so...meet me here around eight?”

“I have a better idea. I’ll come at seven and bring dinner.”

“Harry, you don’t have to…”

“Stop saying that,” he argued. “You have to eat, right?”

“Right. Seven it is.”

“Yes, it was a strain on her, watching her castles fall down…”

Bronwyn sang along to Stevie as she stood in the bathroom, preparing for the evening. Her hand shook as she applied her eyeliner, the thin pen slipping from her fingers and falling into the sink.

“Bloody hell,” she muttered under her breath and picked up the pen. “Get a grip, Bronwyn.”

Never had she felt so nervous before...a date. Was this a date? Harry had made it seem like it was, promising to bring dinner and all. However, she hadn’t wanted to be presumptuous, given that he was leaving in a couple of days. But, she didn’t want to think about that.

Putting the finishing touches on her makeup, Bronwyn slipped into her boots and had just stepped through the beaded curtain when the buzzer sounded. Seven o’clock on the nose.

“Hi love, it’s me,” she heard him call through the speaker, which only added to the butterflies gathering in her stomach.

Buzzing him into the building, she waited for the knock before opening the door. He stood on the other side, a bag in each hand and a grin on his face.

“I come bearing gifts,” he beamed, lifting both bags. “If you consider food and wine gifts, that is.”

“Well, who the hell wouldn’t?” Bronwyn quipped, taking one of the bags.

She headed for the kitchen, Harry on her heels. Placing the bag on the counter, she watched him do the same with the other bag before he looked at her.

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” she grinned. Then she turned back to the bags. “Okay, thanks for the dinner, have a good night!”

Harry chuckled which only made her lose her poker face and start giggling.

“C’mere,” he said, reaching for her.

Happy to oblige, Bronwyn fell into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck. She beamed up at him, taking in the twinkle in his eyes as he smiled back. Then tilting his head, Harry kissed her gently, his soft cherry lips tenderly caressing hers.

“You look incredible,” he cooed against her skin, his breath falling over her mouth.

“Thanks.”

“Now I’m worried I might be underdressed,” he remarked, stepping back to remove his jacket. He wore a simple graphic t-shirt with jeans that flared at the bottoms, and his black trainers.

“Don’t be silly,” said Bronwyn. “You look...perfect, actually.”

Harry’s lips twitched into a smile. “Thanks. I reckoned we’d be going to a bar so...didn’t dress up.”

“I might have sent you to change if you’d shown up in that blue jumper,” she teased.

“Heeeyyy.”

With a laugh, Bronwyn took Harry’s jacket and walked to the door to hang it on the rack. She could feel his eyes on her as she turned back around. She liked the way his gaze made her feel. She’d chosen one of her vintage dresses for the evening, a green and black chequered one with long sleeves. She’d always felt pretty in it, but the way he looked at her made her feel indescribable.

“I’ll get the dishes, if you open the wine,” she smiled as she passed him on the way back to the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah,” he blinked, reaching in the first bag. “Where’s your corkscrew?”

“Right drawer,” she said, grabbing two wine glasses and two plates from the cupboard.

Bronwyn watched Harry effortlessly open the bottle of wine, pouring a generous amount into each glass before placing them on her table.

“Hey, I hear Stevie,” he commented.

Bronwyn snorted. “Took you long enough.”

“Well, I was distracted,” Harry smirked as he reached into the second bag. “I hope salmon and greek salad is okay. I wasn’t sure if you ate meat, or had a preference. I should’ve asked, sorry.”

Bronwyn glared at him, then looked down and opened her arms wide. “Do I look like a picky eater to you?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Stop it, you.”

“I’m just saying…” Bronwyn shrugged. “But yes, that’s fine. Sounds delicious, really.”

As soon as their plates were loaded, Harry and Bronwyn took seats at her tiny table, a small candle burning in the center of it.

“Just realised this is my first time here at night. It’s really nice,” smiled Harry as his eyes darted around the room at the ambience. Candles were scattered about, giving it a warm and twinkling glow. “I like the candles; they’re very you. And they go with Stevie.”

Bronwyn’s cheeks blushed pink as she remembered lighting the candles before he came. “They’re not too much?”

“Not at all.” Lifting his glass, Harry urged Bronwyn to do the same. “Cheers.”

The nerves suddenly came rushing back again as Bronwyn took a sip of the light, crisp wine. She hoped it would ease some of the jitters, although she didn’t want to seem a lush. After a few bites of the delectable dinner, the record stopped, so she rose from the table to turn it over.

“I have to say,” she grinned as she returned, “it’s nice to listen to this again after all these years.”

“I’m glad,” Harry returned her smile. “Exactly when did you move to New York? Not sure if you told me.”

“Summer of twenty-sixteen,” she replied, lifting her glass. “Though sometimes it feels like yesterday.”

“Twenty-sixteen was yesterday,” Harry joked. “What was it like for you after you moved? Was it a culture shock?”

“Not really. At least not like I thought it would be. I’d already traveled here a few times, and as they say, New York is sort of a melting pot of cultures.”

“That’s true,” Harry nodded, his mouth full of salad.

“I met my friend Sylvia my first week here. She lived in this building then and introduced me to some of her friends. She owns her own tailoring shop downtown, and she helped feed my obsession for vintage clothes.”

“Kismet,” Harry grinned.

“Absolutely. I was helping her in her shop for a bit, just doing whatever she needed. I also worked at the Corner Cafe,” Bronwyn laughed. “Just to help with bills, you know. I got a few gigs here and there, but it wasn’t until I found Antonella...that’s my agent...and she started getting me jobs that things really started falling into place. And...well, here I am.”

“That all sounds wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I don’t take anything for granted.”

“Good.” Harry laid his fork on his plate and leant forward. “I’m proud of you too, you know.”

Though his words did sound genuine, it was his tone that sent Bronwyn’s heart aflutter. Shifting nervously in her seat, she looked down at her plate.

“So is this turning into a When Harry Met Sally situation now?” she asked timidly. “We hate each other for years and suddenly become friends?”

“I never hated you, love. That was completely one-sided.”

Pursing her lips, Bronwyn nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Besides,” Harry smirked, another twinkle in his eye, “I believe Harry and Sally fell in love in the end.”

“Alright, so bad analogy.”

Harry’s cackle suddenly rang throughout the tiny flat and increased Bronwyn’s heart rate. She could feel the warmth on her face, and it wasn’t from the wine nor the candles. Wiping her hands on her napkin, she lifted her fork to take another bite of fish, unable to look him in the eye for fear she’d drown.

“I would like to be friends, though,” she heard him comment after a few moments, a small rasp in his voice. Lifting her gaze, she caught the dimple that decided to make its opportune appearance just before he added, “if not more.”

The Double X was a bar downtown, a block from where Bronwyn’s friend Sylvia lived. She pointed out her building to Harry before the taxi driver pulled up in front of the venue. She saw him reach for his wallet and stopped him, her hand over his.

“I’ve got this, Harry,” she insisted, handing the driver her card. When she detected the hesitation on his face, she winked. “I might let you buy me a drink later.”

Sliding out of the cab, Harry followed Bronwyn up the steps to where a large man stood to check IDs. He seemed to recognise Bronwyn, giving her a nod.

“'Ello Joel, good sir!” she greeted him. “I ‘ave comp’ny this evenin’.”

“I see that,” Joel remarked, jotting his chin out. “He have an ID on him?”

“Wha’? This be me best mate fro’ London, ‘arry Styles. You migh’ o’ ‘eard o’ ‘im!”

His mouth in a straight line that told Harry he was in no mood to play a trivia game of who’s who, Joel took the stamp he was holding and marked each of their hands. Once inside, the smell of smoke hitting them instantly, Harry chuckled in Bronwyn’s ear.

“What was that all about?” he inquired.

“I’ve been coming here since I moved to New York, so I know everyone who works here. When they first found out I was from London, they kept asking me to talk. Apparently they think everyone in the UK has a Cockney accent. So I sort of lay it on thick.”

Harry laughed as he ran his hand down her back. “Brilliant.”

Before she got the chance to recover from the chills his light touch had sent throughout her body, another voice boomed from behind the bar.

“London!” the man called. “Haven’t seen you around lately, sweetheart!”

“Been busy, love!” Bronwyn sang before pulling the strap of her camera bag over her shoulder with one hand and grabbing Harry’s with the other. She pulled him towards the bar, where she started the introductions. “Harry, this is Nikoli, though he prefers Nick. Only I’m allowed to call him Nikoli. And Nikoli, darling, this is Harry.”

“Pleasure, Nick,” said Harry, holding out his hand.

“Likewise,” nodded the bartender with a handshake. “You’re famous or somethin’, right?

“Shhh,” Bronwyn hushed with her finger to her lips before giving both men a wink. “So, are the boys here yet, Nikoli?”

“Yeah, they’re in the back. Should be out in a few. Can I get you guys somethin’ to drink?”

“Nothing for me just yet,” replied Bronwyn as she removed her coat, “but you can start a tab for Harry.”

Raising his brows, Harry glared at her. “You’re making me drink alone?”

“Only for now,” she beamed at him. “The wine from earlier is still getting to me. Besides, I have work to do.”

Shrugging out of his jacket, Harry claimed a stool and ordered a drink whilst Bronwyn removed her camera from her bag. He watched her as she seemed to set up her scene, deciding where to stand to take photos. She snapped a few of the empty stage before backing up, nearly bumping into him.

“Sorry, love,” she said, barely brushing her fingers across his thigh. “Mind watching my bag for me?”

“Course not,” he replied.

The look he gave her was enough to make her lose her cool and forget about the task at hand. With a quick blink, however, she turned back around and aimed her camera just as a pair of long, black denim-clad legs stepped onto the stage and took a place behind the drum kit. One hoot from the back of the room sounded as the rest of the band climbed on stage and slung guitars over their heads. Only the bloke in the center seemed to recognise Bronwyn, and he gave her a thumbs up before counting off the first song.

The band, somewhat of a cross between pop-punk and 90s grunge, were already three songs into their set before Bronwyn made her way back to Harry and the bar. With possibly the widest grin he’d seen on her face in the last few days, she paused in front of him, her chest heaving.

“Reckon I could use that drink now,” she declared with a wiggle of her brows. With her free hand on Harry’s knee, she leant forward. “Nikoli, darling, the usual?”

“You got it, babe,” called the bartender, grabbing a bottle of golden brown liquor.

“Are you having fun?” she asked Harry, catching his eye. Though she stood very close, she had to speak loud over the music.

“The time of my life,” he grinned, lifting his glass to his lips.

“Pfff,” Bronwyn sounded as Nick handed her her drink. “When they’ve finished this set, we can go sit over there.”

Harry followed her finger to where it pointed in the corner of the room, a large booth.

“Shall I go claim it now, before it gets too crowded?”

Bronwyn took a gander around the room, noticing in fact that it was starting to fill.

“Might be a good idea,” she nodded.

Sliding off his stool, Harry grabbed their coats and Bronwyn’s camera bag. “I’ll take these with me.”

“Thanks baby,” she beamed before planting a kiss on his cheek.

She didn’t miss the adorable look on his face before he turned for the booth. Catching the eye of Drea, one of the cocktail waitresses, she walked up to her.

“Hey girl, you look hot tonight!” exclaimed Drea. “And you brought some eye candy of your own, I see!”

“Thanks love,” said Bronwyn. “Listen, do me a favor? I hate to ask for special treatment but...well, he is rather special…”

“Say no more, hon!” Drea shook her head. “I got your back.”

“I owe you one!”

“No you don’t,” argued Drea. “You bring more business than anybody. It’s probably ‘cause of you we’re still open.”

Bronwyn watched Drea lift her tray and turn toward the booth that Harry now occupied. With a feeling of satisfaction, she set for the other side of the room to take more photos of the band.

After a couple more songs, the singer announced they were taking five, and the band stepped off the stage one by one. Camera in hand, Bronwyn began to cross the room when the singer stopped her.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” he smiled.

“Of course, Austin, you know I would, anytime you asked.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Austin looked at the ground. “That’s so nice of you.”

“C’mon,” beckoned Bronwyn. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Austin followed her to the booth where Drea was just delivering Harry’s freshly made cocktail. As soon as Bronwyn began the introductions, she saw Austin’s jaw drop.

“No way!” he exclaimed incredulously. Then he looked at Bronwyn. “You know Harry Styles?”

With a gleeful laugh, Bronwyn nodded. Harry, no surprise, offered his hand to the young man.

“Nice to meet you, Austin. Sounding good up there.”

“Aw, thanks man!” Austin blushed. “I can’t believe you’d come to see us.”

“Well, to be honest, the company is the reason I came,” Harry smirked, side-eyeing Bronwyn who’d just slid into the booth beside him. She giggled when he squeezed her knee under the table.

“Ah, I get it, man. Bronwyn’s a cool chick. Her pictures and articles of us are probably the only reason we get booked for gigs anywhere in New York,” Austin snorted.

“Oh hush, you,” Bronwyn waved off his comment. “It’s because you’re good, and you know it.”

As Austin turned his head, he caught sight of one his bandmates who strutted over.

“Hey man, look who’s here,” he told him.

“No shit!” the tall blond cackled. “Somebody said he was here, but I didn’t believe it. Good to meet ya, man, I’m Jeremy.”

Jeremy and Harry exchanged hellos and handshakes, and soon enough, the rest of the band followed. Sipping on her drink that Drea had brought over, Bronwyn was happy to see her friends so elated. However, she didn’t want to make Harry’s appearance too big of a deal, so she was glad when the band returned to the stage. Grabbing her camera once again, she started to slide out of the booth.

“I’ll be back in just a few,” she paused to tell Harry. “I only have to take a handful of photos until the last song.”

“Okay,” he grinned, his eyes already starting to get glassy.

“Still having a good time?”

“The best.” Before she could anticipate it, Harry slipped his hand behind her neck and pulled her into a kiss. It only lasted for a second, but Bronwyn could feel it down to her toes.

“Be right back,” she whispered against his mouth.

That kiss made it hard to concentrate on her job, but Bronwyn managed to take several great live shots before opting for a break. Stopping at the booth, she smiled at Harry and returned her camera to its case.

“Going to the ladies’,” she announced.

Harry gave her a wink to which she responded with an air kiss. Once in the tiny stall, she let herself exhale loudly. All of the feelings she’d had that night seven years ago had returned full force. Not the bad feelings when she’d thought Harry had intentionally hurt her, but the good ones she’d experienced before that moment. Every nerve in her body tingled and her skin was on fire. She wanted him just as badly as she had that night...no, she wanted him more. A thousand times more.

At the sink, she splashed a little water on her face, hoping it would cool her a bit. It helped ease the warmth on her skin, but not the burning flames rising inside her body. With another breath, she opened the door and nearly ran into Drea.

“Oh girl, you’re so lucky!” she cheered. “He’s an absolute doll!”

“He is, isn’t he?” she heard herself say, not that she wanted to deny it. Not anymore.

“And he’s kept his eyes on you all night.”

“He has?”

“Oh God, hon, yes! I was watching him when I asked him if he wanted another drink, and when I brought it to him. His eyes were glued. I’d say he’s smitten.”

Biting her lip, Bronwyn returned to the booth and slid in beside Harry.

“Okay, I’m really back this time,” she said.

“Good,” Harry grinned, leaning forward so his forehead almost pressed against hers. “I was starting to get lonely.”

“I doubt that,” Bronwyn jeered. “I’m willing to bet anyone in this place would be happy to come sit with you.”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “I don’t want just anyone, though.”

Bronwyn chuckled. “Someone’s drunk.”

“No. Just feel good.”

“Oh. That’s good to know.”

Bronwyn lifted her hand then and ran the back of it against the stubble on Harry’s chin. He shut his eyes and let out another low hum, sending a vibration through her fingers. She was just about to allow her lips to brush his when she heard her name come from the stage.

“That’s her over there!” Austin shouted into the microphone. “With our new buddy, Harry. She’s fucking awesome, you guys. We probably wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her. So raise your glasses, your bottles, whatever you got...raise ‘em up high for Bronwyn! This song’s for you, babe!”

“Shut up!” Bronwyn exclaimed, immediately slapping her hand over her mouth as the band kicked into the rock song.

She felt Harry’s hand take hers then, threading their fingers together. She looked up at him, his face aglow with pride. Her eyes began to well up, but she quickly wiped them with a cocktail napkin before pulling out her camera.

“Guess I should take a few more shots and call it a night.”

Rising from the booth, Bronwyn made her way through the crowd, taking a few photos up front, next to the stage, and then scanning the perimeter. Austin smiled, giving her another thumbs up, which she took a shot of before lowering her camera and blowing him a kiss. Then returning to her date, she slid in next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder with a sigh.

“That was sweet,” she commented.

“Looks like I’m not the only one you’ve made an impression on,” Harry murmured in her ear.

“Oh hush,” she spat, swatting at him with her hand. “He’s like nineteen.”

“So was I,” Harry laughed.

“Yes, but I was only twenty-two then.”

“Wait. That means you’re...twenty-nine? Oh my God, you old woman! What was I thinking?”

“Stop!” Bronwyn cackled, reaching over to tickle him but only managing to get herself pinned inside the booth.

His breath grazed over her lips and she smelled the tequila as her giggles slowed to a stop and she looked into his eyes. Though they were heavily hooded, she could still make out the twinkle.

“When do I get to take you home?” he slurred.

As though on cue, the band played their final drum beats, ending on a strong chord echoed by reverb. The crowd cheered and Austin thanked them before jumping off the stage.

“I guess right now,” Bronwyn breathed.

Slipping out of the booth, she made one last trip to the loo whilst Harry paid the tab. She wasted no time, meeting him at the bar.

“You guys have a great night,” nodded Nick.

“Goodnight Nikoli, darling!” called a very buzzed Bronwyn. “Night Drea!”

She wasn’t sure if Harry carried her out of the bar, or the other way around, but somehow they managed to get a cab. On the ride back to her flat, Bronwyn leant her head back and sighed.

“That was fun, Harry. Did you have fun?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “You’ve asked me that several times.”

“Sorry. Just wanna make sure.”

“I enjoy being with you,” he confessed, reaching for her hand. “And I’ve realised something about you tonight.”

“What’s that?” Bronwyn asked, turning her head to look at him.

“You’re in your element when you’re in public.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean...at your flat...you seemed almost timid and shy. Like you were afraid to tell me what you were thinking. Kind of vulnerable, I guess. Not that it’s a bad thing. It’s just...when you’re out in a place like this...just like the night we met...you’re so much more…”

“Flirty?”

“I was gonna say alive,” Harry chucked, “but yeah.”

“It’s a facade, Harry,” Bronwyn declared with a straight face.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t like being vulnerable. Especially around people I don’t know that well. So I pretend I’m not. The way I see it…” she paused, looking down at their joint hands, “if I come off as confident and flirty from the get go, no one is ever the wiser. That’s how they think I am all the time. So...everyone wins.”

“But you’re not like that all the time.”

Bronwyn considered his words, then raised a brow and shrugged. “We all have a dark side, Harry.”

“I didn’t say it was a dark side, I just-”

“Which me did you invite to your hotel room?”

Bronwyn stared at Harry for a moment, waiting for an answer, perhaps. But she knew what the answer was, so the point was moot. The silence grew between them as the taxi drove through the city and arrived at her flat.

“I’ll um...understand if you don’t wanna come up,” she muttered.

“What? Why wouldn’t I?” Harry glared at her incredulously.

“I mean...if you changed your mind.”

“I didn’t.”

“Okay.”

Bronwyn wanted to kick herself as she climbed out of the cab and up the stairs. She heard Harry’s footsteps following hers up the hardwood floor, stopping at her door. She wanted to take back what she’d said, yet she’d known it was the truth. The air was thick between them, and she wanted to clear it and start anew. As she put her key in the lock, however, Harry beat her to it. She froze in her spot as she felt him brush her hair off her shoulder and lower his head to kiss her neck, ever so softly. His breath in her ear and against her skin sent such shivers through her body, she almost dropped her keys. As she lifted her chin for him to get a better aim, she felt his chest press against her back until he turned her around to face him. Trapped between his body and the still locked door, she looked into his eyes. They seemed to plead with her, silently before he tilted his head and caressed her lips.

“Harry…” she gasped, her eyes still closed.

“It might’ve been the other you that nineteen-year-old me invited to his hotel room,” she heard him say, making her eyes flutter open to reveal his beautiful, sincere face. “But it’s this Bronwyn...the one who’s stood before me now...that I’m asking to sleep with me tonight.”

**dramatic music**

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opera-ghosts · 5 months ago

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Nipper and His Master’s Voice

The famous Nipper picture as revised for the Gramophone Company, from an oleograph

For much of the 20th century, one of the world’s most famous trade marks was a picture of a small terrier staring into the brass trumpet of a primitive gramophone. “His Master’s Voice” read the caption.

The picture was painted, probably in 1898, by the Huguenot artist Francis Barraud; the dog, ‘Nipper’ (he tended to nip people’s legs), had belonged to his elder brother Mark but was inherited by Francis on Mark’s death. Nipper himself had died, in 1895, before the picture was painted. Originally, the dog was shown listening to a cylinder phonograph, on which the user could record his own voice; thus, Nipper could have heard the voice of his master emerging from the trumpet. As Gramophones played only pre-recorded discs, a dog could hear only a master who happened to be a recording artist.

The story goes that Barraud offered his picture to the Edison Bell company (responsible for the phonograph in question), but they rather sniffily turned their nose up at the idea. Then a friend suggested that Barraud improve the picture with one of the brass horns used by the new Gramophone Company, so the artist approached them at their offices in Maiden Lane, off the Strand, for the loan of a brass horn to copy. “Yes, certainly”, was their response, “and if you replace the phonograph with a Gramophone, we will buy the picture.”

The Gramophone Company took delivery of the revised picture in October 1899; they paid Barraud £100 (£50 for the painting and £50 for the Copyright). Barraud had copyrighted the original painting in February 1899. No one knew what sort of phonograph was in that picture, until in 1972 the late Frank Andrews, of the City of London Phonograph & Gramophone Society (CLPGS), realised that Barraud’s copyright application would have been accompanied by a photograph. Searching through a box of applications in the Public Record Office in Chancery Lane, he found that photograph, showing the dog in front of an Edison Bell phonograph with a rather ungainly black horn. An illustrated booklet was published in 1973, The Story of ‘Nipper’ and the ‘His Master’s’ Voice Picture, written by Leonard Petts, then archivist at EMI, with assistance from Frank Andrews.

Francis Barraud talked of how “It suddenly occurred to me that to have my dog listening to the phonograph, with an intelligent and rather puzzled expression, and call it ‘His Master’s Voice’, would make an excellent subject” but recently two possible sources for the title, at least, have been put forward in For the Record,* the journal of the CLPGS. In 1888 a painting was exhibited by Sir William Orchardson called Her Mother’s Voice. It is in the Tate Gallery, a typical Victorian narrative picture of a widower listening to his daughter singing and reminding him of her mother. A more probable source is an engraving which appeared in the magazine Black & White in 1891, of a scene in which members of the Browning Society listened, a year after the poet’s death, to a recording of his voice. It was captioned ‘Listening to the Master’s Voice’. Barraud is likely to have been aware of this scene (its title might in turn have been inspired by the Orchardson picture). (*FtR 52, 2014 and 76, 2020)

In 1950, a party from EMI, with two members of the Barraud family, went to a courtyard in Kingston-upon-Thames where it was said that Nipper had been buried. Excavations near the stump of a mulberry tree in what was now a garage parking area revealed no bones that could be definitely identified as those of Nipper, but the site, then behind a bank, is widely regarded as Nipper’s resting place.

The picture, without its title, was registered by The Gramophone Company as a Trade Mark in December 1900 (it had been registered in the USA in July by Emile Berliner, the inventor of the Gramophone). In later years, up to his death in 1924, Francis Barraud was engaged to paint copies of the picture for the Company’s various offices; the original remained in the EMI boardroom for many years, and close inspection shows the pentimenti where the phonograph was overpainted. The picture was reproduced in Gramophone Company publicity from the outset, but did not replace their existing ‘Recording Angel’ trade mark. In the USA, the Victor Talking Machine Company, which was affiliated to the Gramophone Co, made more use of it as a trade mark. The two firms divided the world between them (Victor supplied the Americas and Far East; Gramophone supplied Europe and the British Empire apart from Canada) and thus Nipper and the Gramophone became a worldwide emblem very quickly. Ultimately, it was the British company which used it most prominently, for when a court decided in 1910 that the word Gramophone was no longer a proprietary name, the company registered the picture with the title ‘His Master’s Voice’ and the title alone as Trade Marks. ‘His Master’s Voice’ then became their brand name. It was a clumsy epithet, but public usage soon abbreviated it to HMV, as eventually, after WW2, did the company.

Take-overs, sell-offs and globalisation of products caused EMI to drop the Nipper trade mark by the end of the 20th century, and it was sold to the newly independent HMV shops in 2003.

The famous Nipper picture as revised for the Gramophone Company, from an oleograph

Nipper (photograph by Barraud, Liverpool and Oxford Street, London)

The original picture, with a phonograph, as shown in Barraud’s copyright photograph of 1899 (National Archives: Copy 1/147)

His Master’s Voice, cartoon by Victor Gillam, 1903; already, the picture was well enough known to attract a political cartoonist.

Blue plaque at 126 Piccadilly, London, the location of Francis Barraud’s studio in 1899

Nipper needle tins, 1902-1960; the embossed tin (top left) is the earliest, 1902-3. Top right is a cardboard packet from WW1, and bottom right, one of the many ‘clones’, mainly from overseas, trying to cash in on the dog’s popularity without infringing the trade mark

FRANCIS BARRAUD (1856-1924) English artist with a version of His Master's Voice painting which he originally completed in 1899

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1141520851813892291920 · 5 months ago

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🗝️ anon again. I figured out how to get what happened down, I think. It's taken a lot of trial and error, but if this sends through that means it worked, it also means I'm so, so sorry for making you read this trainwreck.

Modern hieroglyphics.

I'm a 🎭, usually pretty 👇 on the 📜 of talents people like to scout for. Doesn't really matter, I'm not in it for 💰 or anything, just for the fun of it. I ❤️ to think I'm pretty funny, anyways.

But I was scouted as the final act at The Sydney. I went, 👁️ all the other acts. I was getting a bit 😥 by the time it was my turn. Everyone else was so much better than me.

Still, I went up to the 🎤 and started telling my jokes. I didn't stutter, my delivery was ✅, but after every joke there was always a solid few ⏰ before anyone would 😂. Felt like pity, they weren't like that with anyone else. It 👂 forced. And then it 👂 wrong. Eventually when I looked into the audience some of the 🧍were gone, and in their seats were anywhere from 1️⃣-5️⃣ 🎭 masks, varying expressions.

The volume of the 😂 never changed. I remember that. Even as one, after the next, after the next.. They were all gone. All replaced by these masks. I couldn't stop 🗣️into the 🎤. Eventually I closed my 👁️👁️, and even still I kept going. I used material I hadn't in 🗓️🗓️🗓️+. I couldn't 🛑.

When I opened my 👁️👁️ again, everyone was there.

They all had a 🎭 mask on.

I never got 💰 for that gig. I didn't care. I had to 🏃. I was still telling jokes into the 🎤. I ended up taking it with me.

I don't know what would have happened if I stayed. I still have the 🎤. Sometimes I can't stop myself from telling another goddamn joke.

I'm never going in front of a crowd again.

My lord, what kind of clownscript cipher have you sent me? The longer I stare at this the worse my headache gets. [TRANSCRIPTION]

I'm a [performer/actor/dramatist?], usually pretty [point/down] on the [paper/scroll/list] of talents people like to scout for. Doesn't really matter, I'm not in it for [money] or anything, just for the fun of it. I [love] to think I'm pretty funny, anyways. But I was scouted as the final act at The Sydney [NOTE: Bar that often hosts variety acts located in Benson, NE USA]. I went, [watched/saw/observed/beheld] all the other acts. I was getting a bit [sad/nervous/uncomfortable] by the time it was my turn. Everyone else was so much better than me. Still, I went up to the [microphone] and started telling my jokes. I didn't stutter, my delivery was [positive/approved/received], but after every joke there was always a solid few [moments/seconds/minutes?] before anyone would [laugh/cry]. Felt like pity, they weren't like that with anyone else. It [sounded] forced. And then it [sounded] wrong. Eventually when I looked into the audience some of the [bodies/humans/people/audience] were gone, and in their seats were anywhere from [RANGE 1:5] [dramatist/tragic/comedic] masks, varying expressions. The volume of the [laughter/crying] never changed. I remember that. Even as one, after the next, after the next.. They were all gone. All replaced by these masks. I couldn't stop [speaking/yelling/projecting] into the [microphone]. Eventually I closed my [👁 EYES], and even still I kept going. I used material I hadn't in [months/years/ages]+. I couldn't [STOP]. When I opened my [👁 EYES] again, everyone was there. They all had a [dramatist/weeping/laughing] mask on. I never got [money/paid/rewarded] for that gig. I didn't care. I had to [RUN/FLEE/ESCAPE]. I was still telling jokes into the [microphone]. I ended up taking it with me. I don't know what would have happened if I stayed. I still have the [microphone]. Sometimes I can't stop myself from telling another goddamn joke. I'm never going in front of a crowd again.

[TRANSCRIPT ENDS.]

...A...troubling message to receive. Especially now. Isn't it...surely it's...early? Or have I called out for it, unknowingly, in my ongoing investigations. As I am Watching, I am Watched.

As it was, as it is, as it will Always Be. It feels...good, to be honest. Filling, like some deep hunger has been sated momentarily. Thank you, 🗝️, for sharing with me.

Your experience certainly seems harrowing. I am reminded of several statements I have read previously. The feeling of being alone on stage in front of a crowd of hollow masks, pursued by them long after you've left the stage. Yet, I suppose, it was not the audience that followed you, but the microphone. Is that the source of its power? Producing some sort compulsion to speak, to to share, to perform even at your own expense? You didn't feel as though you could stop, no matter how desperate you were to escape. Compulsion and performance would be...puppets, I think. A growing and crippling addiction to making your anguish into a piece of entertainment, the need to feed yourself to the hungry, empty audience.

Eventually, the need to perform will become unbearable, and you will raise that microphone to your mouth and the salt from your tears dry your mouth as you choke on the cruel punchline that is your life.

I would advise getting rid of that microphone, by whatever means necessary. It probably won't help you, but...well, there's always someone new backstage, eager to step up to the mic.

...

Eugh. I feel ill.

#another archive #somewhere else #the magnus archives #tma #tma podcast

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ship2anywhere · 5 months ago

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sloggervlogger · 9 months ago

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youtube

Silverback Awali and His Mischievous Mangabey Buddy At Zoo du Bassin d'Arcachon, France by SloggerVlogger Silverback Awali is sitting by the door. His little friend the Mangabey Monkey jumping up and down and even jumping off the silverbacks head. Awali is surprisingly calm. The Mangabey is trying to get to the big fellows foot. He likes grooming the silverback. Eventually the silverback has enough, waves his arm and then gets up and charges through the room. The Mangabey and one of the blackbacks on the silverbacks heals. A little later the Sliverback is lying down again with the Mangabey annoying him again. Even rubbing his bum on the silverback, but Awali keeps his calm. At feeding time, by this time it got quite dark in there to film. So I apologies for the quality of the footage. The Mangabey really would like the silverback to share his food. Just look at the Mangabeys face, licking his lips, but Awali just doesn't want to share. The silverback crosses his leg and then something what I find quite amazing. The silverback takes his big finger and gently tries touching the Mangabey. Following footage is from the day after. It's feeding time and the Mangabey is jumping up and down in front of the silverback. As soon as the keeper moves, Awali moves into the corner where he knows the foot was being thrown from above. It's snack time, they had their veg earlier, carrots, peppers .... now some food pellets which they really like. The Mangabey is still sticking to the silverback, running around him in the hope of some left over food. After his snack Awali sits by the door. His Mangabey friend by his site. Later that day, the Mangabey is inspecting the silverback foot. The silverback just letting him get on with it. Not sure what he was trying to do when the Mangabey tried to sit on the silverbacks big toe. 😂🤣 More to come next Friday. #SloggerVlogger #Gorillas #SloggerVloggerGorillas Don't miss a thing—hit Subscribe and Turn on all Notifications to be part of our Great Ape escapades every week. 🛍️Gear up with exclusive merch from our worldwide delivery shop: 🦍Check out rawshutterbug Redbubble for a variety of T-shirts, stickers, apparel, homeware, and much more: 🛍️ https://rb-ambassador.pxf.io/Gorillas #AD #redbubbleambassador 🦍Express yourself with customizable T-shirts, stickers, apparel, homeware, and more from rawshutterbug Zazzle: https://www.zazzle.com/collections/gorilla_gallery-119832843969795462?rf=238978496872225031 🦍Amazon USA 🇺🇲 Store: https://www.amazon.com/shop/sloggervlogger #Ad #AmazonAssociate 🦍 Amazon UK 🇬🇧 Store: https://amzn.to/47mDmbA 📷Join the adventure on my travel channel, exploring zoo hyperlapses, walkthroughs, and animal habitats and more. https://youtube.com/@MSVRVisualTravel?sub_confirmation=1 🌐My website: https://msvrvisual.weebly.com/sloggervlogger.html And guess what? Some of the links above and in the video are affiliate links! When you make a purchase, I earn a commission without any extra cost to you. Your support means the world to me – thanks for dropping by and watching and commenting. via YouTube https://youtu.be/nfs_gI1KaGE

#IFTTT #YouTube #animals #Youtube

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twisted-art-wounders · 11 months ago

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YGO AU Leviathan Rising: Epilogue

I'll always come back to you...

And that's a wrap folks! I want to thank everyone whose read and kept up with this story over the past year and half! This was my first long form fan fic basically ever and it feels good to know so many of you enjoyed reading it and I truly am grateful for all your encouragement and kind words!

I'll hopefully have a new one started in the coming year so look out for that! Anyway Happy New Year and let's hope for a safe and and fun welcome in 2024!

Epilogue

A low beep was heard as the door clicked open; Yugi stepped into his apartment work bag over his shoulder jacket under his right arm phone in his left hand, and under his left arm a pile of mail. Yugi closed the door silently and kicked off his shoes in the entry way so he could slip on a pair of slippers. He walked into his living room his eyes not leaving his phone screen as he plopped his work bag and jacket on the side of the couch.

He was trying to order dinner with the new dinner speedy app Kaiba Corp had just rolled out; He wanted to try this new burger place just a block of two down the street form his complex, while he could just go and pick it up he had to stand up on the bus all the way home today. So a further walk was far form his mind this was a job for delivery! Even if it would cost him and extra 5 dollars it didn't matter when your feet where already tired.

Once the order was placed (it'd be about 40 mins of course.) Yugi finally plopped down on the couch and let out a miserable sigh. As much as he liked working on contract with Kaiba Corp, Kaiba was a still Kaiba and was always demanding perfection especially form someone as 'elite' as himself. Yugi missed just working in grandpa's shop, while the pay wasn't a lot and he already had to supplement his income doing other part time jobs he missed just serving new costumers who had an interest in gaming. That was the most rewarding part to be honest; money can't replace the connection you feel when a young person's face lights up when receiving their first game, or pack of cards etc. That's what Yugi loved the most.

He stretched a bit on the couch before remembering he had mail to check! While sorting out what was junk and what was a bill he did remember seeing a large manila envelope among the pile. Flipping past the other letters he found the larger envelope, it was stiff like a harder cardboard was used in it's making and covered in “Priority Express” stickers.

“Must be important.” He thought as he looked at the address of the sender and he nearly chocked, written in plan English it spelled 'From The Office of Maximilian Pegasus, Industrial Illusions, California USA'

Yugi was having flashbacks to just under 7 years ago when he first received a package form the creator of Duel Monsters himself Maximilian Pegasus. The tape that started everything… The journey to Duellist Kingdom, becoming closer to his other self, defeating Pegasus together. So many memories came back to Yugi, as much as he tried to repress how lonely he felt when remembering his other self…no Atem. Yugi sniffled and rubbed away a tear he swore he was over this but alas his heart would always carry Atem in it no matter how many worlds apart they where now.

Yugi let out a breath slowly as he turned the envelope over to open it; He wasn't sure exactly what Pegasus wanted this time the last time he sent another tape it was because of- Yugi had to pause again his heart sunk again thinking about someone else who was also part of his heart and who was also gone…

Yugi pressed on and continued to open the envelope but inside wasn't a tape, he figured as much a tape would never fit this format besides they where well past the use of tapes at this point. Inside there was a blank cardboard card sleeve and a a folded letter with the I2 insignia pressed in wax over it. He pulled out both and decided to open the letter first. On the page was a typed letter addressed to him form the sender:

Yugi Boy! It's been so long!

I know this seems so crude to write you a letter instead of an email, or a even a face talk message. Call me old fashioned but I find nothing is more personal then a typed and properly mailed letter in the mail! It's been well over 7 years since you and I had a chit chat hm? You've accomplished quite a lot I hear; working with dear old Kaiba boy on your newest game project, I must say you always had the makings of being a great creator and I wasn't wrong! I look forward to Spherium and any other new games you have brewing in that mind of yours.

Speaking of creativity I find the art of creation can be such an odd thing; one moment you're canvas is blank with absolutely no ideas at all for months, years even! Then suddenly without warning poof! A muse comes into your mind and begins to implant inspiration, and it just wont leave until it's out and brought into the world. You can say I was bitten with such an inspirational muse that it almost felt like it was willing itself into creation through me.

I know you will treasure this card not for it's rarity but for what you feel you may be missing in it. It's one of a kind and made just for you and you alone Yugi-boy and I have a feeling you and this card have a powerful and spiritual connection to each other.

Anyway don't be a stranger! And enjoy your card Yugi Boy!

Signed, Maximilian Pegasus

Yugi blinked a few times after reading the letter, it was true he had a bit of an odd relationship with Pegasus. He was a former enemy and the holder of the millennium eye but he was also integral to their defeat of DOMA all those years ago. So Yugi held no real ill will towards the man, he just found it a bit odd Pegasus had made him a card?

Finally Yugi took the card sleeve into his hands and carefully popped it open to reveal the card inside. Yugi's eyes widened he felt his hands shake slightly trying to keep a grip on the card, his breathing slowed down as the world around him became silent. He could feel tears start to well up in the corners of his eyes and slow drop down his cheek.

He sniffled a few times as he looked over the card barely able to keep his composer anymore; the card was a legendary dragon knight card juts like Timeaus was but instead of his old partner who bore the name of 'Legendary Knight Timeus' instead the card read “Legendary Knight Leviathan”.

Yugi could hardly speak as he sobbed, but it wasn't all in sorrow he was just so happy that after all these years, Levi had finally accomplished his goal…and he was happy even if his tears seemed to betray that.

“Levi…I'm so happy you made your dream come true…” Yugi bent forward and pressed the card to his forehead allowing his tears to drop freely into his knees.

“I miss you so much…I just want to see you again…” Yugi whispered to himself closing his eyes.

He didn't notice that the card began to glow and shine, the image on the card started to fade away as a solid figure started to emerge before Yugi. Still lost in his sadness it was not until the figure spoke did he finally look up.

“Yugi?”

Yugi's eyes shot open quickly as he snapped upright coming face to face with this new figure standing in his living room. He was a towering man in dark purple, pink and teal armour, long dark and curled hair that went past his shoulders stopping just at his lower back, his bangs where teal and long covering parts of his ears that where long and pointed at the tip. His eyes where a golden yellow and behind him was a long-spiked tail with two separate ends

He knew who this was but he still couldn't believe it! There was no way it could be him!

“Le-Levi?” Yugi squeaked out as he stood up quickly starting up and down at the man, who stood in place a gentle smile graced his mouth as he nodded.

“Y-yes Yugi…it's me…” Levi spoke so gently, after all these years his voice while powerful still held such kindness inside.

Yugi was still in shock he couldn't believe it! It had to be a trick or just his mind was playing games with him. He tried to move towards Levi but he lost his balance and fell ready to go down face first, only to fall into Levi's waiting arms quickly catching him before he could hit the ground.

Levi looked down at him with worry.

“Yugi! Are you alright?”

Yugi was now able to feel that this was no mirage or illusion the man in his living room was real. He nodded looking up and into the tall man's eyes and in them he saw it; he saw Levi's kindness, his determination, his stubbornness. All of it was still in there, this was his Leviathan.

“I guess you have fallen for me now huh?” Levi chuckled helping Yugi back onto his feet. “I've missed you my sweet prince…”

Yugi's eyes where full of tears again as he jumped into Levi's chest and embraced him as tightly as he could. Levi allowed him to and closed his arms around Yugi returning the embrace whole heatedly.

“You're back! You're really back! You're here again! I- I can touch you again!” Yugi cried joyfully.

“Yes I'm back! And I wont leave you again…I promise.” Levi had tears in his eyes now as he too allowed them to flow down his cheeks.

All he wanted was to feel Yugi in his arms again and finally he achieved it. Their embrace was tight neither one wanting to ever let the other one go, even if Yugi knew it was selfish to wish this, he didn't want this feeling to end he didn't want to feel alone anymore. He prayed and hopped Leviathan's words where true he would never leave him again…

They both let go of each other just enough to look each other in the eyes, Yugi's face was red form crying but he had a wide smile on his face. While Levi had to bend more to look at Yugi do this it didn't bother him in the slightest. His face was a bit red as well while he didn't cry as hard as Yugi had been he wasn't immune to the blood filling his cheeks reddening his skin. As orchid eyes met with golden eyes their faces came closer together until finally they could feel each other lips pressed tightly against each other. A kiss they both had long since wished and waited to share with each other.

Releasing form their kiss they both panted slightly and gazed into each others eyes once more. Pulling away slightly Levi stood back up to his full height, Yugi was amazed with just how large Leviathan had grown he was even taller then Kaiba! Holding hands they stared longingly towards each others the sun light form the evening sky started to fill the room in a warm evening glow. The moment was broken when Yugi's phone pinged reminding him his order was almost ready for delivery.

“Uhh…so…Are you ready to try a real hamburger?” Yugi blushed

Levi smiled allowing his fangs to be seen slightly “Only if we share it.”

The End.

#yugi #yugi mutou #levi #leviathan #leviathan rising #yugioh dm #yugioh #au #waking the dragons #fan art

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brittneyallen · 7 months ago

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randomthoughtsressurection · 7 months ago

Text

Jake

Age: 31

Pronouns: he/him

Country of birth: USA in russian speaking family. Though Jake doesn't have russian accent.

Appearance: rectangular face, sloppy stubble, looks like a long-distance truck driver but doesn't drive long distances. Has a favorite light pink cap. Likes street fights, that's why he wears it: to run into a fight with rude people, usually men with fragile masculinity.

Bad habits: Drinks more than average. Though far less than Mellow.

Occupation: Beer delivery person. Main client is a nightclub with Dealer.

Status: Divorced, ex-wife won't let him see his kids, but he still pays child support. Two daughters, one of which he still manages to pick up from school and drop off home (the younger one).

Doesn't ask any questions when he brings a huge batch of beer. "There's a bar here," is his only explanation when asked about the nightclub, blood stains and gunshots.

Doesn't know about Dealer, doesn't know about roulette Thinks it's local entertainment to shoot somewhere.

Talks mostly to the bartender and the stripper who picks up a bunch of shifts in the same nightclub. If he sees that the bartender isn't the one he's talking to on a regular basis, he delivers beer and leaves.

Jake is extremely silent. Gives one-word answers, almost always has a neutral face. Only expresses emotion if he was irritated with something, which would make other people go berserk, but you can't catch him with a different face when he's angry, even during a bender. The bartender somehow found a way to get Jake to talk, and now that bartender listens to whining about his ex, arrogance from constant traveling. That's why Jake prefers when this particular bartender comes on shift. This woman has patience if a saint.

Jake prefers liqueur and ale.

He doesn't swear or raise his voice at all. Not even when he's drunk. He's a former philologist, a fan of Mayakovsky, Pushkin and Tolstoy. Ready for hour-long discussions, the only topic where he doesn't stay quiet. Writes poetry at his leisure time, but 80% of it is crossed out and thrown away.

When traveling alone he hums Vysotsky and Yulia Kim to himself. When he gets wasted he says he would marry a female version of Vysotsky.

He loves his mom's soups. Neutral to other dishes.

Since his teenage years he was fond of throwing knives.

Chameleons are his favorite animal.

Doesn't know how to verbally support, so he offers children and teenagers hugs and adults liquor.

Is willing to punch the face anyone who gets drunk in front of kids.

Doesn't like sports. Doesn't watch, doesn't participate.

Relationships:

Dealer, Ethan and Mellow: never met

The Doctor: acquaintances

Everything else was mentioned above

#buckshot roulette #buckshot roulette oc #writing randomthoughts

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kkatiehere · 1 year ago

Text

Flycurvy.Com Legit Or Scam?

🔥Introduction to Flycurvy

Flycurvy stands as a global online haven for plus-size women, offering a blend of comfortable and avant-garde fashion. The brand aims to provide today’s curvaceous women with a diverse selection of clothing options, ensuring a unique and stylish look that instills confidence. FlyCurvy distinguishes itself by offering the latest plus-size fashions at affordable prices, catering to the diverse needs and preferences of curvy women.

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Yes, FlyCurvy is a legitimate fashion brand. The company is committed to delivering orders that align with the advertised product images, reflecting a dedication to authenticity and transparency. Despite some challenges in the return and refund process, FlyCurvy maintains a legitimate status in the fashion industry.

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On Trustpilot, FlyCurvy has received a positive rating, 3.0 out of 5 from 670 reviews, indicating a satisfactory level of customer satisfaction. While not accredited by the Better Business Bureau (BBB), the brand’s Trustpilot rating is a testament to its commitment to meeting customer expectations.

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The brand consistently maintains high-quality materials, ensuring that the colors remain vibrant even after repeated washing. This underscores the brand’s dedication to the durability of its products. Nevertheless, a notable drawback is the brand’s limited provision of detailed images for its merchandise. This deficiency may deter online shoppers who heavily depend on visuals to gauge the appearance and texture of products.

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🌺Flycurvy Price Review

FlyCurvy offers a range of prices to cater to different budget preferences:

Tops: $10–40 Dresses: $20–60 Bottoms: $30–60 Outwear: $40–60 Jumpsuits & Rompers: $30–70

The brand balances affordability and style, making it accessible to a wide audience. Additionally, frequent sales and discounts contribute to customer satisfaction.

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FlyCurvy ships your order to USA, Canada, Australia, UK, and Europe, with delivery times ranging from 10–20 business days for regular items and up to 20 days for pre-ordered merchandise. While some customers find the shipping times slightly longer than average, the brand provides order tracking to keep customers informed about delivery status.

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FlyCurvy’s return and refund policy have received mixed reviews. The 30-day return period is standard, but the return process, including photographing the item and arranging for return shipping, may be perceived as cumbersome. The brand accepts refund requests for issues like lack of items, broken packages, and quality concerns, but not for simple change of mind or sizing errors without quality problems.

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FlyCurvy’s customer service is generally commended for its swift responses and proactive approach. However, some customers express frustration with the return and refund process, highlighting an area for potential improvement.

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“Absolutely stunning! This dress far surpassed my expectations with how nice the fabric is. It hangs beautifully and is lined. Just make sure you measure the midsection to make sure it will fit around your waist because the material does not stretch in the middle. Highly recommend” — — a reviewer from FlyCurvy

“I love the way this dress fits and I love the way it looks in the front and the back. It looks much more expensive than it actually is and the material is high quality. This dress is extremely figure flattering and will cover up any imperfections you might have. I found the perfect shoes to go with it as well. I highly recommend that you purchased this dress” — — a reviewer from Flycurvy

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Flycurvy has received more than 656 reviews on Trustpilot, with an average rating of 3.0 stars, which means most customers are satisfied with their purchases. Customer reviews on Trustpilot indicate an overall positive experience with Flycurvy. Customers appreciate the high quality, unique designs, and affordable prices. While some mention sizing and colours inconsistencies and shipping times, the brand’s commitment to customer service and inclusivity is evident.

🌺Flycurvy Alternatives

Xpluswear: XplusWear addresses the often-neglected fashion needs of plus-sized women, offering them a chance to showcase their unique style without limitations. Representing a progressive approach to inclusive fashion, XplusWear caters to the contemporary and stylish woman, emphasizing that one’s size should not define their fashion choices, but rather their individual style.

BloomChic: BloomChic is an online fast fashion retailer for modern women sizes 10–30. The brand provides a variety of fashionable and cute clothes for mid and plus sized women, from dresses to swimwear. Their prices range from $20 to $40.

CurveDream: CurveDream is an internet-based women’s clothing label that provides a diverse range of products such as dresses, tops, suits, and bottoms. The brand offers sizes extending up to 5XL at affordable prices, typically falling between $20 and $50.

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🌺Contact Flycurvy

Flycurvy offers email/FB Messenger customer service only. If you have any questions or issues, please send a mail [email protected] or drop a DM via FB they will reply within 48 business Hrs.

💡Conclusion

Flycurvy emerges as a legitimate and customer-oriented fashion brand for plus-size women. With its commitment to diversity, affordability, and customer satisfaction, Flycurvy provides a valuable option for curvaceous women seeking trendy and comfortable clothing. While areas for improvement exist, the brand’s positive ratings and customer testimonials affirm its status as a reliable destination for plus-size fashion.

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