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fyeah-bangtan7 · 3 years ago

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V: “I have a desire to perfect one cool thing about myself”

As he’s being interviewed, V speaks his mind at a relaxed pace. But there was one moment where he kept on speaking without taking a breath. Look for that moment in the interview below. You listen to a lot of old music on vinyl. Has any particular artist’s music excited you since your last interview with Weverse Magazine? V: I was listening to Louis Armstrong’s music again. And I picked up some albums with a pretty jacket that’s also got a lot of really good hits on it.

How do you feel when you’re listening to those classics? V: I feel like I’m beginning to relax a bit. If I listen to a song when I’m feeling depressed and then really get thinking, the things that are frustrating me disappear, and I can feel myself becoming more peaceful. And it makes me picture things in my head. For example, some songs might make me think of seeing something in front of me while walking down the road somewhere at night when I listen to them. I think setting the mood for listeners is the most important thing. The mood will presumably be different for everyone, but for me, those songs are the ones that are good at setting a really beautiful mood in the moment.

You said that you got inspiration from artists of the past like Sammy Davis Jr. for your performance in “Dynamite.” Was there any artist who inspired you for “Butter”? V: Well, there was Billy Joel. When I shoot a music video, I think of a movie more than any one artist. And when I perform on stage, for some songs I think of the way movies like Reservoir Dogs look. For “Butter,” I watched a lot of teen movies. And musicals. After that I randomly ended up seeing a video on YouTube of some scenes from an old teen movie Johnny Depp did [which turned out to be the movie Cry-Baby]. The image I got from that was really intense. That’s the look I used in “Butter.”

“Butter” felt like a teen musical to me and now I know why. V: I did it like a teen musical, just like you say. When we shot the “Butter” music video, I really, really tried to shoot the part in the elevator so it would feel like a teen movie. Although a lot of takes were edited, so not all of it’s there. (laughs)

What kind of feeling do you get from that kind of teen movie that you find so charming? V: For me, teen movies show a youthfulness that’s appropriate for the age. I think there’s an appropriate mix of emotion, energy, and a completely different and peculiar mood that everyone necessarily experiences at that age. If you watch teen movies, they’re overflowing with energy and full of sunny emotion, but behind it all they’re not as bright as they seem. They are really bright, but the color itself almost feels like some kind of filter. They feel like they have a different filter than other movies, so I tried thinking of teen movies when we shot the music video and put on performances.

That teen movie feeling seems to be divided in two between “Butter” and “Permission to Dance.” By the looks of the thumbnails for the fancam focus videos uploaded to the BANGTANTV YouTube channel, “Butter” seems to showcase a really cool character, while “Permission to Dance” is more teenagers smiling brightly for children. V: The teen movie vibe in “Butter” and “Permission to Dance” are different from one another. We showed the sunny image people usually think of when they think of teen movies in “Permission to Dance.”

Do you think that going with the teen movie vibe influenced your vocals to be the new style that you used? In “Butter,” you still had your signature vocals but without the deep notes, giving them a new feeling. V: That’s because, when we’re given a concept, we have to come up with vocals that fit with the concept. I think my singing style matched up with the concept, so I feel relatively satisfied. There was nothing majorly difficult about actually changing the style itself, since unlike changing your voice, you only have to change your vocal technique. Having said that, even though the notes in “Butter” were high for me, I still hit them! (laughs)

I guess hitting the high notes was your assignment this time around as a vocalist. V: I’ve been working a long time to make up for my weak points. For example, I thought I was weak when it comes to high notes because I sing low parts a lot and I tend to sing in a flowing way. But I had trouble when we were recording “Dynamite” and I had to sing the high notes during the chorus. I got so mad (laughs) so I practiced a lot.

How does it feel to see the results you’re seeing with “Butter” now after all that effort? V: I’m just trying not to rest on my laurels. Like instead of savoring the feeling, I feel like I should go to bed early for everything I have to do the next day? Getting back in tiptop shape quickly is what’s important, so I haven’t really had time to bask in the joy very much. I’m just working hard at the work I had like I always do.In your

New Year’s greeting on YouTube, you said you regretted not being able to put on the show for ARMY you wanted, and that your 2021 resolution is to “follow my own pace and pattern” when you work on music. Do you think your personal pace and your professional pace are in step this year? V: No. [My professional pace is] fast, so fast. (laughs) We have a lot we have to get ready for since we’re always promoting. It can be challenging sometimes, but in a way, I think it’s also given me a good opportunity to become a little stronger.

I imagine it’s meaningful to do the work for your own songs, because you can slip into your own world. You also made “Blue & Grey” when you were having a hard time, and it consequently became a song that allowed you to empathize with many people and vice versa. Looking back now, what kind of song do you think “Blue & Grey” will be remembered as? V: I think with “Blue & Grey” I just wanted the song to let people know how I was feeling, and how we were feeling, at that time a little better. Obviously everyone was having a hard time, but I think I wanted to share those emotions with ARMY as-is, including the pains we went through in our growth process. And, to put it another way, I think I just felt like making it obvious. (laughs) I thought it was okay to be that obvious, seeing as I couldn’t put those feelings into words. I just hope people could understand how I was feeling; it’s okay if it becomes forgotten later on.

In the “BE-hind Story” interview on YouTube, you talked about the first line of “Blue & Grey”: “Where is my angel?” You explained how, when you have any kind of issue, you close your eyes and wish for your angel to come and think. Are there times when it seems like your angel understands your feelings, as you just mentioned? V: I get a ton of answers by doing it. I’m not religious, but whenever I have some kind of issue, I close my eyes and think about it. Is this right, the way I’m thinking about this, or not? They’re just yes or no questions, like, Does my outfit look good today? Instead of just worrying about what you should do, if you tackle it in the form of a question, you get a response with the answer.

I guess it could work when you’re looking for inspiration in your life, but what about for your music? In your previous Weverse Magazine interview, you said you make a note whenever you feel something. V: I write in my diary in hopes that it’ll help with writing lyrics and so I don’t forget those feelings. I do it constantly—I open up my diary whenever something comes up. I copy melodies that pop up in my mind, lyrics, and other things from my diary to my notes app temporarily, and when I’m taking a break or I get the urge to work, I open my notes and say, Let’s try this out today, and run over to the studio.

You released “Snow Flower,” featuring Peakboy by V, on Christmas Day. Is that another song you ran to the studio to work on after the feeling came to you? V: For that song, when I was drinking with some older musicians, we were talking about doing a song together, and then we were like, Well, do you think we’ll have time to do that? So we decided to do it right then since everyone was available. My mixtape was delayed, so I at least wanted to play a different song for ARMY, and I thought, since I’m a bit tipsy (laughs) I thought I should try writing something. So I made the song really quickly. In maybe three hours.

Even though you made it quickly, the composition is somewhat complex and it has the same unique atmosphere that “Blue & Grey” did. V: There’s times when I’m, like, in the zone (laughs) and can make a song all in one sitting, but when I’m not feeling it, I end up revising it more and more. And I don’t want the composition to be too obvious, so I try to change up the way the melody flows. With that kind of sharp image coming to you almost immediately, what were you imagining for that song? V: You might think “Snow Flower” is about a type of snowflake, but I was actually thinking about snow and flowers separately. I started hoping that flowers wouldn’t wither away and just keep on blooming on snowy days. But in reality, when it snowed, all the flowers were crushed, the world became blanketed in snow, and I felt like the flower buds turned into snow flowers. I wrote that song about how I felt after watching that happen.

It must be important to feel things intuitively when you’re trying to express yourself through song. V: If it sounds pretty to me: approved. (laughs)

On the other hand, as a member of BTS, you have a job where you have to deal with a packed schedule and keep various situations in mind. How does that make you feel? When you celebrated your Billboard Hot 100 win on V LIVE and the topic of your clothes came up, you joked that you wore them to give off an idol vibe. V: It’s fun. It’s fun, but I could also say it’s hard. The performances are fun. I think idols should shine in a way that’s suitable for their age, and it’s important to do lots of things for fans like ARMY. Not just performances, but also posting pictures, having conversations on social media, making content. We’re artists and idols, so we think each and every one of those things is important. That sentiment won’t change just because we’ve achieved so much success.

You recently held an impromptu event on Weverse for ARMY. V: I’m sure there’s lots of ARMY out there who are tired of not being able to see us in person. But since the only thing we can do for them is to be on stage and stuff, I was worried that we’re not doing enough for them. And I love being able to talk with ARMY so much that now it’s like a habit that I read their posts. I have a thing today. I have a test today. I’m moving today. Somehow I feel better when I hear their stories. When I end up reading things like about how ARMY are living or what kind of lives ARMY have, I can’t help but write a response, and because of that ARMY respond, so I try to become friendlier in a more fun way, too. I want us to be more than the Billboard number one Bangtanies—I want to be ARMY’s partner, their best friend, the friend who’s always by their side when we’re not on stage. It feels like business when I talk about communicating with ARMY. (laughs) I just want to talk with a close friend. I wanna talk with a close friend—that’s exactly how I feel. It’s been a long time since I could see my friend, ARMY. Usually when friends can’t see each other they keep in touch all the time. I can talk about all kinds of things like that with ARMY thanks to the Weverse platform, and because I can hear all about their lives, I think I was able to go on Weverse and hold that kind of event.

You’ve been talking about ARMY nonstop for a few minutes. I was going to ask you how you feel about ARMY, but I think you already answered the question. (laughs) V: They’re just, well, friends I would hate to lose. Friends who seriously give me strength whenever they’re around. Sometimes you find friends like that in life. It’s like that with the other members, and I have other friends who I can share my feelings with. And I have ARMY. So I can’t help but do whatever I can do to make those people smile and make them feel happy.

Well then, is there a song you’ve heard that you want to let ARMY know about? A song that shares your feelings. V: Umm, recently … “No. 1 Party Anthem” by Arctic Monkeys. When I hear that song … I get emotional, somehow. I don’t usually listen to a lot of rock music, but I can instantly feel the band’s emotions with that song. I seriously get goosebumps listening to it, and emotional, and just all kinds of feelings. It’s to the point that, as soon as I hear that song, I think about how I really want to live well.

That song really means a lot to you. V: Actually, I don’t really know what’s up with that song. I don’t even know the lyrics, but I’m quite clear on what sort of emotions the melody and the band’s performance give me.

Don’t you feel like that’s an emotion you want to express to people, as an artist? Like you don’t have to explain your messages in detail? V: I don’t know. I just want to exchange the good, and be the one to embrace the bad. So I have a desire to perfect one cool thing about myself.

So how close do you think you are right now to becoming an artist who has perfected something cool? V: I’ll say 2%. It’ll go up someday later. (laughs)

#bangtan #v #m:weverse magazine #210729

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tiredb0igivemesugars · 4 years ago

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The Best Christmas

Summary: the reader doesn’t like Christmas but their boyfriend Peter wants them to have the best Christmas ever.

Pairing: gender neutral!reader x Peter Parker

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: some swearing, drunkness and sexual themes mentioned.

Notes: So it has literally been forever since I posted anything but here’s a little something for Christmas. Sorry for any errors!

The last school day before Christmas break starts was officially over. Walking home now in the cold New York weather, you could see how your school got smaller and smaller. You dragged your feet along the pavement. The weather had been unsteady for the week, going as low as 20 on the coldest days, there were a few warmer days after those, causing the snow to melt and create very slippery ice all over the place. It was snowing again, a thin layer of snow already covering the ice. The small rocks that were spread across the streets to make them less slippery were your source of entertainment for the way home. You kicked the small rocks forward with your dragging feet, creating long marks on the snow, you smiled to yourself. It was nice to have a break from school since who the hell likes school, but you weren’t that thrilled about Christmas. You had been called the grinch by your friends as a joke since you pretty much hated Christmas, you just didn’t get it. The whole idea of it. Your boyfriend Peter on the other hand was the most Christmas person you had ever met, he was asking you what you want for Christmas in September for christ’ sake. Peter had been shocked when he found out that you didn’t celebrate Christmas and he made it his life mission to make you have the best Christmas in your life. Speaking of Christmas presents, you had no idea what to get Peter, you tried to ask your friends and even some of the Avengers what you could get him, but all of the ideas seemed rather silly and unnecessary. You would personally love something useful for Christmas and honestly, a useful present seemed the best and safest, which begged the question: ”What does Peter need?”

”Y/n!” You heard the familiar voice of Peter Parker yell. You turned around to see him sprinting across the ice, making no effort in not trying to fall, which he did do. He fell, flew across the air towards you before his stomach hit the ground, right by your feet. ”Hi,” was all Peter said when he saw you, now much closer. ”Don’t run on the ice,” you said as you helped Peter stand up and began walking with him. Your hand found its familiar place within Peter’s. ”Any Christmas plans?” Peter asked. You sighed before answering. ”No. Just a regular day for me,” you said, knowing well that Peter was aware of your plans, he must be working on something. ”It’s not a regular day anymore, you’re spending Christmas with me!” Peter exclaimed as he jumped in front of you, almost falling, again. You reached forward a little to help Peter restore his balance and continued your way forward, ”I guess I’ll come since I have nothing better to do. Do I have to wear something nice?” You finally gave in. ”Nothing too nice, like what you’d wear to a job interview,” Peter explained, more calm this time. You nodded.

Peter’s home smelled nice, it always did. Aunt May burned a lot of Christmas scented candles in the apartment, which kind of ruined the original smell of the place, but you didn’t complain. She greeted the two of you by yelling from the kitchen when you entered Peter’s home. ”Hi Aunt May! Y/n is going to stay over for a couple of hours,” Peter yelled. ”Okay, keep the door cracked!” May yelled back. The idea was to study but knowing Peter, you doubted it. You could maybe be able to do one math equation and read one chapter of some subject before Peter came up with something else. Last week it was you throwing something at him while he had his eyes closed, the idea behind this was to test his spidey-sense. But this week, it was going to be something different, you could see it in him. When he sat a little closer to you than usual on the floor when he loomed over you for a little longer as he reached over you to grab a book. You were sure of it when he placed a hand on your thigh. ”Peter,” you finally said, not really knowing how you were going to continue. You had kissed before, made out, dry humped each other, but you had a feeling Peter was after more today. You weren’t opposed to the idea, but his aunt was home, his door wasn’t even closed. Peter closed the book that was laid out in front of you and threw it somewhere in the room. He sat before you, his hand now on your cheek, caressing it. ”What?” He answered, looking almost smug. ”What are you after?” You asked, staring at him with tired eyes. ”Do I need to be after something if I want to kiss my darling?” Peter asked, trying to act innocent. You smiled a little, finding it heartwarming when he called you darling. ”Okay fine, but just one kiss. Then we’ll continue with our homework,” you gave in. Peter smiled as he placed his lips on yours, now both hands framing your face.

You returned the kiss, letting Peter’s tongue enter your mouth, but not too much. You felt Peter’s other hand leave your face, grabbing your waist. He pulled you towards him, that’s when you broke off. ”No I’m not going to sit in your lap, I’ll crush you,” you whined, already knowing you’d gone too far, now things needed finishing. Peter blew a raspberry with his mouth as he pulled you into his lap ”I’ve been crushed by a building before. You’re a feather,” he said as he sweetly kissed your cheek. You tried to support your weight with your knees, but Peter noticed what you were doing and made you settle down. ”Peter I’m going to get take out, what do you guys want?” May yelled from the front door. Peter looked at you, waiting for you to tell him what you wanted. ”Just something with chicken is fine,” you almost whispered. ”Lot’s of chicken, all they can spare!” Peter yelled, earning a small smack from you. The front door closed, May had left, leaving you two alone.

Peter’s lips returned to yours, now hungrier. His hands roamed you up and down your sides. You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Your fingers tugged on his hair. He eventually moved from your mouth to your neck, breathing heavily he nibbled on your neck, you were glad you brought a scarf along. It was like electricity, shooting throughout your body. You didn’t even realise what kind of noises you were letting out until Peter called your name. ”What?” You asked, out of breath. ”The bed,” he said, more of a question even if it wasn’t structured in that way. Before you had the chance to even think about what to answer, the front door opened. You immediately sprinted out of Peter’s lap to sit on the bed, as far away from Peter as possible to catch your breath. ”Peter! Y/n! I’m back. They, unfortunately, said that they can’t give me all their chicken but I got enough for a family of five so come dig in!” Aunt May yelled as she swung through the apartment to place to food on the table. ”Yeah we’ll be out in a minute,” Peter yelled. You both needed a minute, you needed a scarf.

Once your heart rate had gone down enough, you stood up and grabbed the scarf from your bag. ”You ready?” You asked Peter who was still sat on the floor. Peter smiled as he jumped up and grabbed your hand and led you into the kitchen. Peter and May had a full-blown conversation, which might’ve been an argument, it was hard to tell but they laughed at one point so maybe not. May asked you about your Christmas plans, you explained that it was nothing special, not sure if it was okay to tell May that you had been invited to spend Christmas with Peter.

Peter walked you back home around eight. Happy was coming to get you at 5 PM the next day, that’s what Peter told you. You kissed him goodbye outside before going in. It was time to worry about what to get Peter. You stayed up late, thinking. At 2 in the morning, you got the idea, sure it was sappy but it was something. You immediately emailed a shop asking if your order would be ready to be picked up at 4 PM the next day, you knew that there was probably no hope for you to get it but at least you tried. You went to sleep around 5, beyond exhausted. You set an alarm for 3 PM so you had time to shower and get ready. When you woke up that afternoon you were shocked to find that they had answered to your email, you were happy that your boyfriend had a generic name. You agreed to pick up the bracelet with Peter's name carved to it at 4 PM.

To say that you were nervous would be an understatement, your hands were so sweaty and they were shaking. Most of the anxiousness luckily washed away when you saw Peter in the backseat of Happy's car, he came to knock on your door. "May has to work today so it's just the two of us with Mr Stark and the others," Peter smiled when you opened the door. "Oh, okay," was all you said, not sure how you were feeling. The car ride went along smoothly if you didn't count the extra 30 minutes that you were stuck in traffic. Peter had suited himself to black pants and a sleeveless sweater over a white button-up, hair slicked back. You had found a pair of plaid pants in your wardrobe and paired them with a sweatshirt, not forgetting to put a turtle neck under the shirt. "You look adorable," Peter said when he got a better look at your outfit outside the Stark residence. You blushed, also complimenting his outfit.

Thor was by the door waiting for two of you. "Spider and y/n, you're here! Took you long enough!" He said as soon as you two got closer to him. "We got stuck in traffic," Peter said as he led up inside, following Thor. He engaged himself in the conversation with Thor, leaving you to take in the sight of a house fully covered in decorations. Pepper must really love Christmas, you thought to yourself. Every avenger and non-avenger were there, you believe you even saw a glimpse of Nick Fury. Steve was drunk in the living room having a heated conversation with Falcon. Hawkeye, Bucky and Natasha were somewhere else, probably up to no good. Tony and Pepper were in the kitchen trying to get the final details for the dinner. "Y/n! Peter! You arrived!" Steve yelled from the living room. "Wanna go place the presents under the tree?" Peter asked as he turned towards you, you nodded. You had only gotten a present for Peter, and seeing the pile of presents by the tree you began to regret your decision. Maybe you should've gotten everyone a gift.

"Dinner!" Pepper yelled before you could voice your concerns to Peter. You sat next to Peter, opposite of an empty place. The long table was filled except for that one seat. Tony and Pepper on the ends of the long table, Peter on Tony's left side, Nick Fury opposite to him. Pepper had Morgan by her side along with Bruce. You eyed the table, everyone was there, except for... "Where's Loki?" you asked, wanting to see your friend. You liked how cynical he was, he understood your jokes too, even if he didn't really like you, at least that's how you felt. "He'll show, he always does," Tony said.

He wasn't wrong, Loki did show, in the empty seat opposite of you. Everyone indulged themselves with the delicious cooking that was made by Pepper. "Tony hates cooking, loathes the kitchen, but Christmases, you have to drag the man out!" Pepper exclaimed, causing a wave of laughter to go through the table. "I don't understand this," Loki said, mostly to himself. "Neither do I, never did," you said to him. He turned to look at you, surprised you heard him. "I understand this feast but this "holiday" goes beyond me," Loki continued. "Tell me about it!" You said, happy to have found someone who shared your frustration.

Both of you got lost in the conversation, almost losing the track of time. You had moved on from the dinner to dessert, now you were all just sitting and chatting, soon to be retrieved into the living room. "I mean gifts! It's so hard to buy people gifts!" You complained. Loki said something about gifts too, but you didn't hear what since there was suddenly yelling happening. Drunk Steve was picking a fight with Natasha. "Why is he drunk?" You asked Peter. "He doesn't like Christmas," Tony answered before Peter had the chance to. "And from what I gather, you don't either," Tony said. "It's just not my holiday. We've never celebrated it in my family," you explained as plainly as you could. "You never told me that you have never even had a Christmas!" Peter suddenly yelled.

Suddenly everyone was turned to you. "You've never had a Christmas?" Pepper asked, shocked. "What? It's just Christmas," you said, feeling how your face was changing colour from the attention. "But we have to open presents now then," Pepper continued. Everyone rose from the table. Bucky with a little hop in his steps, he liked Christmas, he was even wearing an ugly Christmas sweater. Morgan absolutely demanded to be the one to give out the presents. You wanted to ask if Morgan needed help with reading the names but decided against it. She was Tony Stark's kid, for all you knew she could already be taking college classes. When she first read your name and came to give you the present you just thought it was the one Peter got you, but by the time she was bringing out the fifth present you were already overwhelmed. "Why do I have so many presents?" You asked Peter who sat next to you on the shared armchair. "What do you mean many? You only got five so far," Peter whispered. "So far? How many am I getting?" You asked, panic evident in your voice. "I'm guessing everyone got you a gift so do the math," Peter said, not really understanding why you were freaking out. "I only got you a gift this is so embarrassing!" you mumbled into your hands.

Peter put his arm over your shoulders to offer you some comfort. "It's okay. I didn't give a present to everyone either. We can say that the presents I gave are from both of us," Peter said. Peter was too kind. Way too kind.

You ended up with almost 20 gifts, which was impossible to comprehend for your brain. You had so far gotten two sweaters, a book, chocolate, a pair of new sneakers and Tony had gifted you a phone. Suddenly you felt Peter hugging you. "What is it?" You asked, confused. "Your gift," Peter said, showing the bracelet. "Oh this silly thing, I just didn't know what else to give. Do you like it?" You asked. Peter stared at the bracelet. "I love it, thank you so much," he said and pressed a kiss on your cheek. "Look, if you turn it around it has "I love you" carved in morse code," you pointed out. You helped Peter put it on before you returned to opening your gifts. You could hear Morgan yell as she ran through the living room, happy that she got the gift she had wanted. Peter's gift ended up in your hands, you knew it was Peter's since he couldn't wrap things for shit.

When the wrapping paper revealed a notebook you knew that tears would flow. Your hands shook as you turned each page, examining each page with care. A picture of the two of you, date and a small note. Maybe what you had done together that day, maybe just something sweet. You saw as your tears wet the pages of the notebook. What did you ever do to deserve a boyfriend like Peter? You closed the book, not wanting to bawl your eyes out in front of everyone. Peter's hand wrapped around yours. "Did you like it?" he asked. "You're an asshole. But yes, I liked it," you said and kissed Peter's cheek.

Tony went to put Morgan to sleep later, after that it was just calm "adult talk". Steve was sleeping on the couch, taking the whole space but their friends could care less and sat on top of the sleeping Steve. You and Peter reigned over the armchair, you found a nice place under Peter's shoulder, your arms wrapped around his middle. "Thank you for giving me my best Christmas," you said to Peter, trying to say it without anyone hearing. "Your only Christmas," Peter corrected. You smiled. "But still, it's the only, the best and I love you," you said, trying to keep the moment serious. "I love you too," Peter said and kissed you. It was a sweet, loving kiss, tasted like brandy.

Maybe Christmases weren't so bad after all.

#marvel #oneshot #peter parker #peter parker x reader #x gender neutral reader #christmas #peter parker fluff #imagine #The Avengers #happy

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honeybammie · 5 years ago

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momma › jackson wang

↳ babysitting jackson wang’s daughter was not the first option on your list of summer jobs, but it pays well, and how can you complain when you get to see his face every day? ↳ singledad!jackson, fluff ↳ wc: 3,733

Babysitting was not first on my list of potential summer jobs, but “struggling artist” wasn’t paying rent, and my parents were growing tired of my increasing demands, so I had to look elsewhere. Between my list of potential options, including part-time waitress or grocer, Jackson Wang paid the most. I could take care of his two year old throughout the week, he could go to work with peace of mind, and in the evenings I could continue commissioning off my paintings for less than they were worth. Everybody won.

My first obstacle was the tedious interview process. At first, he called over phone to ask the more basic information of his potential applicants. Name, age, previous experience. I would’ve bet I was the oldest of everyone, and with three younger siblings, I hoped for a slight advantage, but I knew nothing of anyone else vying for the job, so I relied on my crossed fingers for luck.

The second step of the process included meeting Jackson in person. A renewed sense of hope flooded my veins when he gave me the follow-up call and explained that he’d like to meet me, but the pressure of knowing he was to meet with four other girls did nothing to salve my nerves. Neither did the caffeine in the coffee I ordered when we met. For many of his questions, I had to gather myself. Why did I want the position? What was I studying in school? I blushed peach when I had to answer that I was an art major. No one ever took that one seriously, but Jackson nodded anyway, and after forty-five minutes—had it really been that long?—he thanked me for my time with a smile.

The third and final step, which came down to me and an eighteen-year-old high school senior, was meeting his daughter, Meilin, the true judge. I met the two of them in a park near his home, Jackson still in his work clothes and Meilin dressed head-to-toe in pink floral. Apparently she picked the outfit herself. The shoes I wore had a flower print, too, one I designed, and this fact pleased her so much I got the job without saying much else. I felt almost guilty. The other candidate may have had every qualification for taking care of a toddler, but two-year-olds cared not for credentials. Evidently, they cared very much for cool shoes. Some things are learned young.

My second obstacle was trying not to fall in love with Jackson.

An obstacle much more difficult than my first, despite how little I saw him after the interview process. Every morning I showed up at 7:30, and upon my arrival he handed me a twenty dollar bill for lunch (which I never spent in its entirety and tried to return at the end of the day, but he always declined), told me any play dates or birthday parties I had to attend, and grabbed his briefcase before heading out the door. When he returned at 4:30, he handed me my daily pay, thanked me, and I returned to my apartment. Our paths barely overlapped.

Still, I dwelled on our meet-up for coffee a number of times. Had he spent so long with the other girls? Maybe he related more to me since I was the oldest, but surely we had little in common other than both being in our twenties. He was a successful single dad, and I had neither success nor children, just an in-progress art degree and an atelier that was just a closet I cleared out for my paintings. Stains covered my carpet even after the immense effort of cleaning, whereas every surface of Jackson’s house was glossy and unmarred. Even if I wanted to have a conversation with him again, I had no idea where to begin.

Until a month into the job, when upon Meilin was playing dress up for the umpteenth time and Jackson called.

“Hello?” I answered, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder so that I could continue to applaud Meilin as she twirled in circles and fell back into her chair.

“Oh, thank goodness,” he sighed, breath heavy like he was in pursuit of something. “Can I ask you a favor? I’m caught up at work and need you to watch Meilin for a few more hours. I’ll give you some extra money for dinner and pay you overtime hours.”

“Daddy!” Meilin exclaimed upon hearing his voice, climbing up onto my lap and making grabby hands at my phone

“Hello, honey,” he hummed, like the sound of her voice renewed him after hours of office work.

“Don’t worry about the dinner money. I didn’t spend any for lunch earlier. What time do you think you’ll be back?”

“I’ll try to be back by 7:30. Thank you for this. How’s Meilin?”

“Daddy!” she repeated in a similar squeal as earlier, hardly fazed by her father’s news.

“I think she’s holding up. She was in the middle of her debut fashion show, so you ought to be glad she’s not a diva and made time between changes to talk to you,” I tsked, earning a laugh from him, the sound curling around my heart and constricting.

“Tell her I appreciate it very much,” he said, “and thank you. Again. Seriously.”

“It’s no problem. Seriously,” I mocked him, and he hung up in haste. At the loss of her father’s voice, Meilin grabbed the phone out of my hand, looking between me and the device, perplexed.

“Where daddy?” she wondered, turning the phone upside down and flipping it over and over. “Daddy home?”

“Not yet. Daddy’s working late, so you get to spend more time with me!” I threw my hands in the air, and she copied the action with a grin on her face, arms high above her head in the most excited display the world had ever seen.

“Momma!” she giggled.

I lowered my arms with the sudden shock of my title. Usually she called me my name, or various incoherent versions of it, but “momma” was new, and definitely not close to my real name. “Oh, goodness. Uh...no, not momma,” I stuttered.

“Momma! Dress up!” she pulled her princess dress over her head, throwing it down and running into her closet for what I could only imagine would be another dress.

Her newfound favorite manner of addressing me continued through the rest of the evening. Even when I took her to a nearby restaurant and cut up her chicken nuggets with a fork, feeding her one tiny piece at a time, she persisted.

“Yum Yum. Here, momma,” she’d say, picking up a piece and shoving it towards my face. A couple passersby even complimented me on how cute my daughter was, only setting her off more.

I realized I had no idea what happened to Meilin’s mother. Had Jackson been married, or was Meilin perhaps the result of a brief fling? Had her mother died? Abandoned them? I hadn’t considered the possibilities before, but they weighed on my anxious mind as the next few hours passed.

She ran into Jackson’s arms when he returned, oblivious to how late he had gotten off work. “Good evening, hon. What’d you guys do today?”

“Play dress up! With momma!” She clapped her hands, at which Jackson’s eyes widened and landed on me.

“I tried to tell her I’m not momma, but she kept calling me momma and I didn’t know what to do, and then people at the restaurant kept saying I had a cute daughter, and...I’m sorry,” I blurted out all in one breath, afraid the subject might strike a chord.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. No harm done,” he chuckled, setting his daughter down. She scuttled along into the living room to play with some toys while he pulled out a wad of money, counting out double what he usually paid me in a day even though I had only done three hours overtime. “I really appreciate you taking care of her, you know? She goes on about you all the time, most of which I can’t understand, but what I do understand is good. She still loves your shoes.”

I wore the same pair every day, and now I looked down at them with redness flooding my face. “It’s nothing, really. She’s great. She makes me laugh more than most people my age.”

Jackson slipped the cash into my hand, smiling gently at me. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Do you mind me asking something else?” I added, almost against my own will, but the question had been beating me down all day, and I had to know.

“Go ahead,” he prompted, sliding the jacket of his three-piece suit over his broad shoulders and folding it over one arm.

“Where is her mother?”

“Oh. She doesn’t have one,” he said with a little shrug. Just like that. So nonchalant. I glanced around me for the presence of, perhaps, hidden cameras. Was he messing with me?

“She...left?” I asked in a low whisper, desperately trying not to offend him.

He shook his head at me in amusement, pulling out a stool from the kitchen island and taking a seat. “Meilin has a mother, biologically, but she was a surrogate. I...really wanted to have a baby, so I found someone and after some legal work and nine months of waiting, Meilin was born. I guess a lot of the children’s books we read mention mommies and daddies, and she knew who daddy was, so you must’ve been the closest resemblance to mommy to her.”

“Huh,” I said. Of all answers, I didn’t expect that one, but it was one of the better ones. “I’m glad, then. I was worried her mom passed away or that there was a divorce.”

“No, nothing like that,” he said, “but you’re sweet for being worried.”

I was blushing scarlet now, no longer able to hide it. He was only a few years older than me, but him having his life so put together made me feel like putty in front of him, and the “sweet” rolling off his tongue made me feel like I was stuck in sugary goo.

“I guess I should get going, then,” I said. “See you on Monday, Mr. Wang.”

“Jackson,” he corrected me. “I’m not that much older than you.”

“Most people don’t call their employer by their first name,” I pointed out. Being on a first-name basis with him was too informal, too intimate. “And we’re not friends or anything. Not to be rude, but—”

“No, I understand,” he nodded, eyes travelling to his daughter. This was usually her bedtime, and she wasn’t playing with her toys with the same energy as earlier. “Give me a moment to put her in bed, would you? I’d like to talk for a few more minutes.”

“Uh, sure.” I wasn’t sure if he was going to fire me or somehow promote me or what, but I sat at the kitchen island as he carried Meilin to her room, her cheek pressed to his shoulder.

“Night, momma.” She waved, and after spending the day denying it, I conceded and waved back, blush still covering my cheeks. I hoped it didn’t secretly bother Jackson.

He was gone maybe five minutes, and the house doesn’t make a sound. I was used to the constant thudding of feet, of pint-sized chaos roaming the halls, but the space was at a standstill and I had to busy myself by picking up the stray toys left on the living room floor.

“Oh, please—no, no, don’t worry,” Jackson said when he found me cleaning up, touching a hand to my elbow so that I stood. There was a doll in my hands but he took it and tossed it into the nearby basket of toys he kept in the living room. “You’ve done enough today.”

“Sorry. Force of habit, I guess.” I folded my hands together to steady myself. Being alone with him was as nerve-wracking now as it was during the interview process. “What did you want to talk about?”

He nodded towards the kitchen, where I returned to my previous seat. I shook my head no when he offered a glass of wine. I’d have to drive home soon, but he proceeded to pour himself a glass and sat down. He always struck me as more of a rum guy—not that I had spent my time thinking about what he liked to drink. Well, not too much time.

“I don’t know that this arrangement is going to work much longer,” Jackson said, reaching across the table to cover one of my hands with his. My skin froze at the proposition.

“Mr. Wang—Jackson, please,” I sputtered in a half-thought out attempt to save my job. Not seeing Meilin or him again? Asking my parents for more money? The thought made my heart lurch. “I adore your daughter, and I need this job because I don’t make near enough from painting to sustain myself. If you’re mad that she’s calling me her mother, I’m sorry, and I’ll try to take care of it, but I can’t lose this position.”

He took a sip from his glass, swirling a finger around the rim. “Earlier, you said we weren’t friends, and it made me think of how I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Ouch.”

He smirked a little, tired from a long day of work but still thinking me amusing nonetheless. “Let me finish. I don’t want to be friends with you, but that’s not because I’m your boss. Hell, I don’t want to be your boss, either. I want to take you out sometime—to an art museum or a play downtown or for another cup of coffee with a different context. Even with what little I see of you, I think about you all the time, and I just…”

Jackson’s voice faded out, words lost to him. I’d never been very good at words, either, hence why I pursued artistry instead of English, but I turned my hand over and slipped his fingers through mine. It felt like a good place to start, despite how much my hands were shaking. “I don’t...really want to be your friend either. Or your employee. Ever since we first met for coffee, I’ve had the stupidest middle school crush.”

“As long as we’re coming clean, I knew after our first meeting that I wanted you to be the one to watch Meilin. I had only met with the other girls for fifteen minutes, maybe, but we talked for how long? An hour? When she ended up choosing you, I was happier than it made sense to be.”

“What if she hadn’t?” I implored, hoping he would indulge me.

He rubbed the back of his neck, contemplative and maybe a little nervous, too, a side of him I decided that I liked. “I...might’ve asked you out sooner, actually, or I might’ve talked myself out of the idea, thinking you’d say no. I guess we don’t have to find out.”

“And I’m glad it was me. Meilin is the highlight of my summer.” I smiled at the thought of her round cheeks and moony eyes staring up at me but remembered a moment later that I do need the job. “Listen Mr. — Jackson.”

“Mr. Jackson,” he interrupted, chuckling.

“Shut up,” I scoffed. “This is serious. I need money somehow, and if I’m not watching Meilin, I’m out of luck.”

“Then let me help you with some of your art. I’ll buy a few pieces off of you for however much you need or want for them—just enough to give you a jumpstart and afford rent while you look for another job,” he suggested.

“I want to date you, not for you to be my sugar daddy.”

“I’m not—” he started, but he must’ve seen where I was coming from because he stops short. A pinkish blush started to show on his cheeks. Finally, I wasn’t the only one.

I didn’t want to date him as long as I was making money from him. My parents taught me not to mix work and personal life, and hooking up with my boss sounded too scandalous for my taste.

“Give me time to find another job. It’ll take a few weeks, maybe, but then I’ll quit and we can go on a date. Until then, we should keep things professional.” I realized my hand was still in his, and I slipped my fingers away and held them in my lap.

He was silent for a while, and from the way his eyes flitted all over me, he didn’t seem to want to wait. He’d probably take me out right then if he could, and if he asked, I wasn’t sure I had the willpower to tell him no, despite the front I tried to keep from crumbling. “Can I give a suggestion, then?”

“What is it?”

“Wait here,” he said, running upstairs where I knew he had another bedroom and an office, along with other rooms I had yet to step foot in.

He returned soon after, pressing three business cards into my palm. I filed through, brows furrowed, to see that they were art exhibit coordinators, critics, buyers. Alternatively, all the people I needed to impress.

“Where did you get these?”

“I’ve been to a few showcases in my day. I’m not entirely ignorant to the world of art, and I never turn down a business card. You never know when you might need someone you thought you wouldn’t.”

My mouth hung open, entirely ungraceful and no doubt making me look like a fool in front of him. Then, I shook my head. “It still seems like too much of you to—”

“I’m only giving you their cards. You don’t even have to tell them you know me, just that you’re looking for work. If they hate your paintings, they won’t hire you, and if they love them, that has nothing to do with me and everything to do with your talent.”

I tried to refute him. It still didn’t seem fair, but he had a point, and maybe it was selfish of me but I wanted a date with him soon, and I wanted the validation of someone in the community telling me that I had what it took to make a living from my art. Was that too much to ask?

“Im Jaebum selects artists to showcase at the art gallery each month. He has a soft spot for young artists just trying to find a way in, and if he really likes you, he’ll showcase you more than once. BamBam runs a section of a popular magazine— focused on art, obviously, and he kind of does what Jaebum does: spotlights an artist or two each edition, gets their name published. You never know who might see your name and reach out. Park Jinyoung is the hardest of them to please, but he’s more constructive than harsh, and you’re in great shape if he likes you. He’s a buyer, too, and pays more than I ever could. He’ll tell his friends about you, too, if you want to commission work.”

“I don’t...I don’t know what to say,” I stuttered, the cards heavy in my hands with the prospect of chances they might hold, doors they might open. “Thank you, Jackson. Really, I—”

“You can thank me once you book your first showcase. I’d love to be your plus one.”

“Oh? And who said you would be my plus one?” I teased, but it was taking every ounce of my composure not to throw my arms around him and kiss him silly.

“Call it my wishful thinking,” he said. “And until then, you can keep taking care of Meilin, and our relationship can remain strictly professional.”

Right. I had suggested that. So much for kissing him silly. “Yeah. Yes, of course.” I nodded. I’d be sad not to see Meilin every day, but if all went well, I’d continue to see her often.

Jackson looked into the bottom of his wine glass, almost empty, and after a couple beats of silence said, “I’ve probably kept you long enough tonight. I’m sure you’d like to get home.”

You can keep me as long as you want, I thought, snapping back when I caught his eyes on mine. “I’m...yeah. I should be on my way.” We both stood, his movements a mirror of mine. He walked me to the door a few times before, usually while counting my payment, but he had already given me my cash.

“Thank you again for staying late to watch her,” he said while I slipped my shoes on, grabbing my belongings.

“Don’t mention it. Seriously, I’d do it any day.” I waved a dismissive hand at him.

He opened the door. I grabbed my keys. Both of us lingered in the threshold, like he was waiting for me to say something, or like I was waiting for him to. The porch lights set his face aglow, warm evening honey.

“Goodnight, then,” he said slowly, like such basic words were a struggle for him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah, goodnight.” I took one step, reconsidered, and looked back at him. “Jackson?”

“Yes?” He hadn’t moved, but his eyes widened with some combination of hope and curiosity.

“I’m having this problem where I really want to kiss my boss, but we agreed to keep things strictly professional for the time being, and I was wondering what you think I should do.”

“Hm,” he considered, and I prayed he wouldn’t tell me just to go home. I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye again. “Do you think he wants to kiss you too?”

My breath hitched. “I hope so.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, the smallest ripple I barely noticed. He was enjoying himself so, so much. “Only one way to find out.”

I hesitated, momentarily afraid of stepping into a trap, but without any semblance of patience, he was reaching for my waist. My fingers found the pulse of his neck and his lips found mine in the lamplit dark. My second obstacle had been trying not to fall in love with Jackson, and I was failing miserably.

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blakescoven · 5 years ago

Text

Undress Rehearsal (Duncan Shepherd x fem!Reader)

Summary: You got a fashion degree and moved to DC to work as stylist assistant. Unexpectedly you meet a familiar face during a meeting and it seems there’s a spark between you two...but things may take a wrong turn.

A/N: Hey lovelies!! This is my first fic EVER, so be nice! Also, forgive any grammar mistake (English isn’t my first language). Since the ending is kinda open, I guess I could write a PART 2. I’m so happy to finally be able to post this one-shot, even though it sucks! I’d appreciate every comment/reblog/DM about it and about how I could actually improve my writing. This is a sort of experiment! I’m still trying to figure out “my style”. Oh and this is important: bold type means flashback, italics are Y/N’s thoughts and // means a few days passed! ENJOY and thank you for reading! I love you.

Warnings: mean!Duncan (just a little), making out and veeery light NSFW, plot!twist, lol I think that’s enough(?)

Word count: 6.1K

moodboard by the talented @hecohansen31

You were late again. It happened twice this week. But how could that happen? You had always been a punctual and reliable person, at night you ensured that the alarm was correctly set and you never went to bed too late, afraid to not being able to wake up the morning after. So how could it be possible? Maybe because of your jetlag, but after almost a month, well, this had become a really bad excuse. Then perhaps, the frenetic pace was already affecting you that much, making you too tired to hurry up and get ready. This couldn’t happen again; you were jeopardizing your new dream job because of this straggler behavior. While you were running along the streets of Washington DC, those were your recurring thoughts. Your wheezing and the speeded-up heartbeats, pounding in your hears, were drowning out any deafening noise coming from cars and traffic, which always filled the city driveways.

From the early hours of the day, the avenues were swarming with people going to their office, each of them withdrawn into oneself, busy minding their own business with their smartphones, bringing takeaway breakfast on the other hand. You were way too anxious and distracted from running breathlessly; you had already bumped into three stupid human beings, slowly strolling down the sidewalk like damn sloths. Every single step was followed by a quick glance at your cellphone screen, checking the time and ensuring there was no missed call of your boss.

If you knew anything in this world, it was that you had to take this job seriously, dealing with the fact that your exhausting dues would have allowed your eager ass to work your way up and finally become a fashion designer. So, you didn’t expect any great satisfaction to come very soon. And starting from the bottom was really tough. After years of studying and a well-deserved university degree, you were prepared for whatever the future might have brought. Despite that, you didn’t expect at all to end up in DC, working as a stylist assistant. Sure, this would have opened the door to your real dream job, be part of the style department, designing collections for a luxury brand. You had tried your luck moving to New York, but you ended up broke, with no savings left and no available job opening. For this reason, you decided to take that chance here. You hadn’t made any progress till now though. You were new, yes, but your tasks and assignments were hardly restricted to bring coffee or running around the Capital with tons of garment bags for upcoming fittings.

Finally, after that insane 3km rush, without even stopping for a second - no, you couldn’t afford an Uber ride every time -, you arrived. Your feet hurt like hell, your cheeks covered with scarlet shades like the worst of sunburns and your breath coming in short gasps…and your hair, oh dear Lord, it was a mess. You were sure you were also sweating. Luckily, Richard, your boss, was quite nice to you and somewhat tolerant; he was sincerely impressed by all your efforts, skills and abilities, so much that he wasn’t utterly certain what you were doing there.

Five minutes past the established hour and, thank God, the client hadn’t arrived yet. You didn’t have much information or details about that meeting. You only knew that you had to help during a fitting for a client, extremely influential on the political scene. He needed a few new looks and outfits for public appearances, interviews, and fundraising events. Of course, you assumed he would have been an old middle-aged white man, with too much money to count and eager for power.

Mr moneybags is getting late tho. Too busy making grands? you thought.

Meanwhile, you were trying to look more presentable, also to not risk damaging the brand reputation.

“Y/N?”

Your calves burned and, in that moment, you thought that bringing extra sneakers would have been a good idea.

“Y/N?!”

Since the client hadn’t arrived yet, maybe you could sit down and rest for a minute on that super comfy booth near the mirror…

“Y/N!!!! HELLOO!!!” Your train of thoughts was abruptly interrupted by your boss’ yells, which suddenly caught your attention.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, I zoned out! Forgive me, what can I do for you?”

The man, a healthy and elegant 40ish brunette, looked at you concerned “Y/N I know it’s hard to settle down, but I need you to be 100% focused today. The man who’s coming is a big deal for us, he’s a powerful figure in Washington politics! He has recently taken her mother’s place as CEO of the family company. So, I want us to make a good impression!” after saying that, he looked at you from head to toe, a bit baffled.

“So…” he continued “…I need you to – in that moment you really hoped you were about to receive a major task, finally a turning point – ..to run to the bar across the street and buy some coffee, and come back quickly!” All your expectations fell apart in a sea of disappointment. “Hurry up!”

You put on a forced smile and went straight to the exit.

After having waited in line for centuries, you figured that probably the client had to have arrived, and therefore, just as you had started your day, you came back running as fast as you could, to save time.

You were holding the coffee cups in your left hand, while you were struggling to turn off your phone, which had started ringing. Opening the glass door with your hip, you were still trying to silence the ringtone, this, without even minding where put your feet up. Ugh, mom, stop calling me...always the worst timing! you screamed in your own mind, frowning. Before you could slow down your steps, one of your heels didn’t grip well the lacquered floor, making you stumble and trip. A sudden change in your balance and you couldn’t avoid slipping forward, causing the not-so-angelic flying of coffee directly on the special guest of the situation.

Damn it.

And to make matters worse, you fell to the ground, cursing the day you were born. Hell no, it can’t have really happened to me. You had just made a complete ass of yourself. You would have rather sink below the waves into the oblivion.

“OH SHIT SHIT SHIT I-I’m so sorry! I-I don’t know h-how it happened!” you were apologizing, still keeping your eyes fixed on the once-full cups rolling down the parquet, next to your badly chipped mobile touchscreen.

“The floor must be slippery…please let me make it up to you, I ca- ” you stopped all of a sudden when you lifted your gaze, for the first time since you had stepped in. Standing in front of you there was the most attractive man you’d ever seen. His piercing blue eyes were fixed on you, like two burning flames almost forming deep holes in your soul.

It’s hot in here or it’s just me?

He was tall and his toned arms were easily visible through the once-white shirt. Now that expensive fashion piece was all covered by a huge stain of hot coffee. And it was your fault. You were speechless. Your attention all focused on the man’s features. Your gaze was busy running down those perfect shaped cheekbones and the sharp jawline. Oh boy, gods’ gift indeed.

Oddly familiar to you though.

You clearly remained to stare for too long to not be noticed, because the man himself broke the silence.

“Uhm, don’t worry” he seemed taken aback for a second “I’ll send it to the cleaners or I’ll throw it away, I don’t care” he said, immediately composing himself, while carefully unbuttoning the ruined shirt, with those long fingers... You were blushing. His low soothing voice sent shivers down your spine. But his tone was plain, no apparent emotion, he seemed almost indifferent, maybe even a little annoyed. Ah, pompous ass.

Your attention was caught by your boss, who, with a worried voice, while pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed, proposed him to choose another shirt among the others and take it as an apology gift. The man accepted, nodding with a crooked smile and with smug remarks about the needlessness of gifts for a man as rich as him.

Cocky asshole! You mused, with a roll of her eyes.

Anxious to change the subject, Richard, started the introductions. “Mr Shepherd, she is my smart – but clearly clumsy – assistant, Y/N” at that very moment that name awoke the memories in your mind.

No. It can’t be true.

“Well, nice to meet you” he remarked “Y/N”, repeating your name like he was tasting it on his own tongue “..or so.” he added, with a stupid smug grin on his breathtaking face. When they shook hands, you felt a sort of jolt and realized you had been holding your breath all this time. You remained silent.

That was the same man you met 6 months ago on the flight you took to go to New York, when you moved for the first time. It was him the influential man of the meeting.

Duncan-fucking-Shepherd.

Duncan. This name was the only thing in your mind right now, while you were lying on the couch, in your little apartment, with a glass of wine loosely resting on your lower lip. Oh my God, did he recognize me? Did he figure out it was me? How had he called me that day? Oh, his angel, right. Fuck.

Your head hurt, but you couldn’t help but keep on repeat your two first meetings again and again in your mind. The Duncan Shepherd from today was completely different, compared to the man you had encountered on that plane.

He hadn’t talked about himself very much, just spilled that he was a businessman traveling for work. You had immediately noticed how mature he was to be in his late 20ish. And incredibly handsome. And charming. And seductive.

Ok, stop.

You still couldn’t understand why you. Among all the attractive available women he could easily have, during all the time of the flight, he had been flirting with you. You. He made you feel sexy, desirable and safe, after a very long time.

It was the first class. You were there because of a lucky misunderstanding. While the plane was taking off, you two had a moment, since he saw you panicking. You had started talking for real only two hours after having left Milan. The conversation started casually, then developed into a flirty game. Little did you knew that a few hours later, you would eventually find yourselves making out so much intensely, whilst the rest of the passengers was sleeping with lights off. This wasn’t like you; you were strangers after all. Damn, you only knew his first name. But you couldn’t help your crazy attraction towards him. A sort of electricity, a particular connection that you had never felt with anybody else in your life.

You were staring off into space, completely lost in your inner thoughts, while biting hard your lip and fidgeting with the hem of your oversize t-shirt. You nervously swallowed and closed your eyes. Your hand began to move from the fabric and wander over your bare legs, brushing them with your fingertips. Throwing back your head and swallowing again, you frowned and sighed. You couldn’t make those thoughts disappear. He got under your skin and no matter what you did, you couldn’t shake him.

His soft lips on yours, hot and peachy, the trailing of his wet open-mouthed kisses along your throat and the series of marks he was leaving on your skin, on the way down your collarbone. Feeling the smile of the other against your lips as you two kissed. The best feeling in the world. His small moans when you had pulled his lower lips between your teeth, while his hands were touching and roaming all over your body, as if he wanted to memorize each spot, each curve, each part of you. “Baby I wish it was just the two of us right now, damn, I want you so badly” he whispered. God, if they had been alone, you’d have gone further for sure. You were both turned on, you could tell, especially from the prominent bulge on his designer pants. All you wanted was to climb on top of him, straddling his hips, panting in his hear and feel his hot breath all over you. Intense was the craving to undress him, feel his skin against yours. Shit, it was like a living a dream.

The meeting had been canceled and rescheduled for tomorrow. The situation was quite unpleasant. What you were supposed to do now?

Judgment Day had come. You hadn’t slept at all, all night spent tossing and turning between the sheets and looking at the ceiling. How were you supposed to act now? Should you have mentioned anything? What was really killing you, was the feeling that ‘your moment’ had meant nothing for him. Yes, after 6 months, you had gone over it, also because you had no idea how to contact him. But after seeing him again, all the buried thrills came rushing back. You absolutely needed to test the waters today. What did you have to lose? Well, your dignity maybe. If he wanted to, Duncan could have easily said something. And of course, a man of his status could have anything, or anybody, he wanted. Maybe you were overthinking, maybe not.

Since it was almost dawn, and the sun was peeking through the blinds, creating a delicate play of lights and shadows on the curtains, you decided you could actually distract yourself choosing what to wear for the meeting. You shouldn’t have done it. Your bedroom had become a battlefield, all your clothes scattered all over it, like some lifeless leftovers of the closet, now empty. Almost like a little bomb went off. You kept trying combinations on combinations, each time taking off the pieces and throwing them away anywhere around you, as if you were on the verge of a breakdown. It was still a business meeting; you couldn’t dress up too revealing or doll up too much. But at the same time, you’d never give up on being yourself and express your personality through what you wore. Respecting yourself was the most important thing. Self-love. However, this didn’t solve the problem at all. You wanted to appear at your best, challenge him, in a subtle way.

On your way to the office, an unexpected call tuned you away from your own thoughts.

“Richard! Good morning! Are you calling me for coffee? Because I’ve already stopped off at the bar, now tell me who is the best assistant in the whole world?! And I’m not even late!” your smile vanished as soon as your boss answered.

“WHAT?! What does it mean you won’t be there today?” Your heart skipped a beat and started pumping so much blood through your veins, that you felt as a heatwave was rushing inside of you. “W-well if you have family issues, we agree that it’s necessary to postpone the gathering..I-” your eyes widened at the realization that you’d be alone. With Duncan.

You almost fainted on the spot.

“I’m sure you can handle it on your own! You can still reach me with a phone call, if you ever need me. Plus, don’t you think this would be the right chance to prove yourself and finally level up, get noticed and considered for that vacant position in the style & design dep.? My money’s on you, girl!”

How could you blame him, though? He was always so encouraging.

You sighed through the phone, so he added “Look, it won’t be hard. Remember that Mr Shepherd is in your hands. We have to turn him into one of the brand advocates; he’s young, a self-made man, the best choice to promote the brand awareness. It’s up to you now.”

Wow, that’s very reassuring you figured, shaking your head.

“Ok, you can do this, I have to go now, let me know how it goes. Bye!” Fuck.

“W-wait! I can’t do that withou-” he has already hung up. Looking up to the sky and letting out a frustrating grunt, you allowed yourself a childish whine and mumbled a ‘why me’.

Now you were standing outside the building, trying to collect yourself before entering. You were wearing an oversized see-through blouse, tucked in a black knee-length skirt, and an *accent color* blazer with rolled-up sleeves, to complete the look. You were ready to fight. No more clumsy bullshit.

Breathe, remember to breathe you reminded yourself, looking at the elevator door.

You strode next to the receptionist’s desk, Tiffany, or, as you liked to call her, ‘Crazypants’; since her eyes were always so disturbingly wide open – Does she ever blink? – and her hair painfully pinned back, so tight that must have hurt her. She seemed a cross between a barbie and a psycho killer. As soon as you walked by her desk, Crazypants greeted you overly excited, calling you with her earsplitting high-pitched voice. You put on your fakest smile and replied,

“Morning Tiff, uhm, I wish I could stay and chat, but I have work to-”

“The client is already here. He’s waiting for you in the fitting room” she winked. Hell, you hoped your blushing wasn’t so obvious, you couldn’t even have a few minutes to be psychologically prepared. Well, maybe better pull off the band-aid.

“Thank you for warning me! I’ll be right there” you answered. Not even before your exams you felt all this pressure.

Why is it always so hot?!

Walking along the hallway as if you were going to your own execution, you found yourself in front of the door of the rehearsal room. You gently opened it and entered. Do you know when, at some point in movies, there’s a slow-motion moment with background music?! There it was. Precisely. He had his back turned, gazing the skyline through the glass wall. And the second he heard the clicking of a pair of heels, he turned his head, smiling at you and looking intensely at your figure. You were about to die for real now.

How could someone be so beautiful?

His hair perfectly styled, his hot stubble,... Oh, that stubble was your weakness. You could already feel it between your legs and…

“Hey hey, easy with that” he teased with his deep honeyed voice, pointing the take-out coffee cups you were holding. You winced and giggled

“I’ll never stop apologizing about that, ehm, incident…but if you want one, go ahead!”

You looked at each other smiling for a while, until you had to break the silence and eventually get down to business. “So, I guess it’s better if we start…Mr Shepherd, so then you’ll be free to go back to work”, he exhaled and nodded

“Oh please, just call me Duncan.”

You saw a sort of shift in his features. His face went blank. He adopted a bossier and intimidating position, like last time. Ok, maybe he just wants to keep it professional, I understand.

“When is Richard coming?” he questioned while taking his trench coat off. “To be honest, it’ll just be me today, but it’s all right, you’re in good hands” you slightly smiled. He sighed again and you rose your eyebrow, taking it as an unspoken insult.

“Is there a problem?”

“Well, yes, I didn’t come here to waste my time with a newbie assistant.” Your jaw dropped.

“Excuse me?”

“No need to get upset darling, this is what you are, after all” he stated shrugging. You were speechless; yes, you were an assistant, but the way he said that, as if you were a dumb zero…What an asshole.

“Oookay, since I’m here..let’s continue” he glanced at you, waiting for her next move. “I agree, you can change in the wa-” you paused; he was literally undressing in front of you.

“What? There’s nothing you’ve never seen...I guess” You were confused…was he teasing you or something? “You should be more professional, I’m saying it for you”, your rage slowly increasing and flowing throughout your entire body. He was a completely different man, with all those unnecessary mean remarks. He gave you mixed feelings. You would have punched him, but at the same time, contemplating his perfectly-shaped heavenly body, his toned muscles, his thighs..you wanted to jump on him, kiss him and be his, in every way possible.

“You’re staring.”

“W-what?! No. I’m waiting for you to finish undressing, so I can give you the first change to wear..”

“Sure.”

You’d already had enough of his attitude. “I suggest starting with this evening suit, since Richard told me you’ll attend a charity gala in a few days.”

“Hush, please, save it. I don’t need all your pointless suggestions. I can handle it by myself.” he seemed almost..angry? You didn’t know how to hit back anymore. Why was he acting like that, all of a sudden? He tried on a few different outfits while you were staying there, silent, shifting your weight from a leg to another, your eyes wandering through the room, your lips pressed into a thin line and your mind trying to figure out what was happening. Duncan, noticing the tapping of your fingers on your thigh, rolled his eyes and gave you an annoyed look.

Then he huffed “Impatient, uh?”

You were hovering on the brink of an outburst.

“Why don’t you do your job and bring me some water, or take notes, or whatever you get paid for?”

“My job is helping you find a set of appropriate clothes for various occasions, trying to create the right mix & match that suits your taste and personality...” you retorted in a plain tone.

“Oh, thanks for the not required explanation, Wikipedia..”

“..but I’m not stupid, I know what a fucking stylist does” he was pushing your buttons.

“If you’d allow me to do my job, instead of questioning me, I could recommend something..”

“No need to whine, baby girl…So do it, instead of staying there like a scared little girl.”

“If relying on someone to select your wardrobe really bothers you..why don’t you choose them by yourself?” you sassed, struggling to remain polite.

“Well, I’ve demanded the help of a professional, not that of a ‘coffee-bringer’…and I’m wasting my time here”.

Ok, that’s enough.

He was still a client, but for you being treated like that wasn’t acceptable anymore. “You know what? I don’t fucking care if I get fired after saying these words. But I’m done with your dumbass comments. You’re a douchebag. I’m trying to do my job and, just because you’re rich and influential, you think you can treat me like that. Like I’m trash?” you were finally giving in to an outburst “The saddest thing is that I really hoped you would remember me. About that moment we shared 6 months ago, on that flight to New York. But obviously, I’ve given it much thought. Turns out that I’m just one of many, aren’t I? I’ve been thinking about you for weeks and when I saw you again, it all came flooding back. I’m so stupid. It’s not your fault, I was wrong to think that day could have really meant something.”

While talking, you were struggling to hold back the tears, you weren’t supposed to look pathetic, but your eyes were already watering. “So, do me a favor: end this meeting now. I’ll call Richard and tell him to take care of you, since you do not believe I’m capable enough to fulfill your needs..”

“..oh and don’t worry about seeing me again, I don’t want anything to do with you! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.” you spat, entering the small wardrobe room, without bothering to switch on the light, hoping that your angry tears would have remained unnoticed in the darkness and that Duncan would have gone for good. So you started moving crutches on the clothes stand, to make room for those outfits to restock over.

Unexpectedly you felt an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. It was Duncan. He hadn’t left.

His body pressed against yours, you were paralyzed, his arms keeping a firm grip on you. What’s happening? You knew you should have pushed him back and kick him out, but something inside you decided against it. It was like a part of your dumb heart wanted to stay still in that position forever. You two remained silent, until he whispered in your hear, with his hot breath and his cologne filling your nostrils - a mixture of cinnamon, sandalwood and tobacco.

“I’m sorry..” he sighed. He sounded sincere.

“..I went too far.”

Now your own hands were resting upon his arms. You could feel the heat his body was radiating right now. With a honeyed soft tone, he murmured “Please forgive me, I don’t know what came over me. It’s just that having you standing here again, in front of me, stunned me. I didn’t know what to do and I misunderstood your demeanor. I thought you were pretending nothing had happened, or that you didn’t recall that day, or that you simply didn’t care.”

His hold slowly loosened, allowing you to turn around and look at him with narrowed eyes and a puzzled expression, without a word.

“Uhm, I’m not very good at communicating my emotions, but you’re right. I’ve been a dick. You didn’t deserve it, but I was overwhelmed by the attempt to suppress my own feelings. Since I saw you again,”

he paused,

“you are all I can think about.” he admitted, stroking your tear-stained cheek with his thumb, but you tried to resist him,

“I hope you’re not trying to play me, because otherwise I’ll smash that stupid hot smirk to the ground.”

“So do you think I’m hot, uh?!”

“You dumbass.”

“God, you’re so damn sexy when you’re mad.” he teased, coming closer.

“What?” you giggled. He stared at your lips “I just can’t stop thinking about kissing you right now…” and unexpectedly, his hand drifted to your hip, pulling you even closer. You inhaled deeply. You were against his warm chest, sculpted to perfection. Why must he be so perfect? You placed your hand against it, intending to push him away, but instead you left it there. You froze, from both fear and excitement.

You two stared into each other’s eyes and his breathing quickened as did yours. He slowly leaned in, so his forehead rested against yours. You closed your eyes. Your faces were inches apart now, and he lightly traced your lips with one finger. His other hand placed behind your neck, shortening the distance even more.

Your noses bumped and your mouths matched up slightly-opened, breathing each other’s air directly. He brushed his lips against yours and you freaking loved it. You loved the way your body melted into his. The way your lips perfectly fitted like two puzzle pieces. The way Duncan held you tighter and tighter. It sent shivers down your back. His only desire was to touch you, to move his hands under your layers and feel your smooth skin.

You two broke the kiss for a second to catch your breath. Then he pulled you in, claiming your mouth again, hungry and intense. Duncan lowered his hands down your hips, cupping your ass and dragging you impossibly close. You deepened the kiss swallowing his groan of pleasure as you lost into each other, no space between you two. His hands were exploring your body, while you grabbed his hair tightly to restrain your own moans.

Slowly, you started exploring each other’s mouths with your tongues. Sometimes sucking his lower lip and biting it a little bit. He started kissing your jaw and leaving hickeys on your neck. He didn’t want to let you go, so he pulled you again and kissed you so hard, with much more intensity. He squeezed you, suggesting that he wasn’t going to stop. You didn’t mind at all and continued making out.

He slowly put his hands under your blouse, trying to reach and unhook your bra, eager to run his fingers along your breasts and rub it. You began unbuttoning his button-down, seductively leaving wet kisses and love bites on his chest. He moaned. Then Duncan raised your blouse and took it off completely, so he could see you.

“You’re beautiful” he purred, and started massaging your chest and kissing it hardly, licking and biting gently your nipple. While Duncan was playing with your body, you could only keep on tugging his hair, making his moans vibrate against your body. Then he kneeled down kissing your stomach.

Both of you couldn’t silent your groans anymore, the entire room was filled by sexual noises. But you didn’t care at all. You knew where it was going. Duncan pushed you against a wall, grinding on you and you could clearly feel his hardness pressed against your body. You needed more friction.

“Jump.” he suddenly hinted, and used his veiny arms to hold you up by your thighs lifting you off the ground. You wrapped your legs around his waist. Your core was throbbing at that very moment.

But you were brought back to planet Earth right after; that divine feeling was ruined by a pesky thought that clouded your mind.

What if he’s just interested in sex?

He sensed your sudden slowing down. “If you want me to stop, tell me now,” he whispered. When you remained silent, he brushed his mouth against your temple,

“Or now.”

he followed the line of your cheekbone,

“Or now.”

now he was kissing your chin,

“Or—”

then your lips were against his, again. You kept undressing slowly, savoring the moment.

But that damn thought came back, stuck in your mind. And eventually it hit you. “Wait…wait” you said, trying to steady your breathing.

“What’s wrong angel? I did something wrong or..” he questioned worriedly. “No, not at all, it was perfect..but I don’t think this is right.”

“Wait what?! Why?” Duncan replied in disbelief.

“I’m not a yes girl, Duncan. I’m not looking for casual hookups, I really want to know you better and see where this leads us.” you smiled reassuringly, caressing his cheek. You were scared as fuck. Maybe he wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship, just random booty calls. But you had to take the risk. You wanted to.

“Uhm..yeah. I guess that sounds fair enough.” he chuckled and you released the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “How about a coffee date? I know a place, it’s quite secluded, to not attract the attention of press and journalists” you tilted your head and frowned,

“What do you mean?”

“Angel, I don’t want you to be targeted by newspapers, they aim to find some dirt on me and make every aspect of my private life public. I prefer keeping a low profile, and put you in an uncomfortable position is the last thing I would want.” “Oh, ok. I got it.” you were a little thoughtful, to be honest. But in that moment, you would have agreed with everything he was saying. You used every inch of strength you had, to stop and not go further. Not that there was anything wrong with that. You just wished to learn more about that handsome man in front of you; his desires, his passions, his values and aspirations.

“I’d better get back to work, they’ll wonder what happened to me.” he smirked. “Yeah, you better hurry up, then” you laughed, while putting your blouse on. “I’m gonna put aside the chosen clothes” you informed, but before you could leave the cramped room, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back in his arms, giving a last soft peck on your lips.

“How can I focus now, with the thought of you against me?!”

“You’ll have to make do with the memory..” you shot back “..for now.” you cooed, whispering in his hear.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch. You had exchanged numbers and with all those texts you were sending to each other, you felt like a schoolgirl again. Nothing could have ruined that sensation. Before going back home, Richard called you, questioning you about the meeting, not noticing your struggle to not make disconnected sentences or beat around the bush, to hide your embarrassment. Then, to thank you for having his back, he gave you another assignment: a high-society lady had requested a selection of gowns to choose, to attend a few fundraising events. Another important add-on for your CV. A few more efforts and they would have finally offered you the long-awaited position in the creative team.

The consultation had been set up two days later, you had to go to the customer’s penthouse this time. Ugh, lazy rich people. You rang the doorbell and right after you were greeted by a thin blonde girl, all fake boobs and tinted tips, wearing a dress that seemed closer to a long top, rather than an actual dress.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Come in! I’ll be right back” she yelled. You came in holding the garment bag; you were shocked when you found out how actually big the apartment was: super modern, black & white themed and with some art hanging on the walls.

Uhm, de gustibus you muttered to yourself.

“Here I am, sorry for the waiting. I am Madison!” Why rich people seem so reluctant to share their last name with me? you mused, smiling to yourself.

“Let’s start, shall we?”

And then Madison took you to what has to be her large bedroom. Odd. That seemed more like a bachelor to you, but judging wasn’t your thing.

The fitting went smooth as silk. This Madison was a bombshell, every single dress fitted her body as it was sewn on her. For the upcoming event she chose a nude silk dress, that perfectly matched her skin tone. She looked pretty excited for the pick, so much that she started screaming and calling out loud, making you aware that there was someone else around.

“Muffin come here!!! I chose the dress!! It’s perfect oh my God! You must see it before I take it off!”

MUFFIN.

Seriously? Do not laugh, please, do not laugh.

You were biting her lip a little too hard. While Madison kept calling her…muffin, you decided to do something and began packing all the stuff back up into the bag.

“Oh finally, you walk so slow, babe…now, look! What do you think?” Before the man could answer she continued “Oh wait, how rude I am. Y/N, this is my fiancé...”

As soon as you turned around and lifted your gaze, your heart stopped beating.

“…Duncan!”

His smile soon disappeared too, replaced by a shocked and guilty expression, like a deer caught in the headlights. You froze in place.

You were trying to hold back the impending flood of tears, washing it away with your anger. A million different feelings rushed through you, but at the same time you couldn’t feel anything, just your own heart, literally breaking down in pieces.

“Do you already know each other?” Madison asked, noting Duncan’s surprise. You gathered all the strength left within you and stated

“Just one of the many customers.”

Then, lowering your broken voice, you sputtered a “Now I really have to go.”

Without saying anything more, you took the garment bag and run straight to the door, shutting it down behind your back. Right after, a teardrop rolled over your cheek, and your eyes started watering. Once that the first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream. Before turning into a sobbing mess, you walked fast down the hallway, reaching the elevator and waiting for the doors to open up.

Before you could take another step, a large hand took you by the wrist, keeping you in place. You turned around and instantly pushed him back, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“Please,” he begged,

“Let me explain. Please, I don’t want to lose you! We have something..w-we can talk about it, please, wait!”

“Go to Hell” you snapped;

and then you shoved his hand away, entering the elevator. Stupid. I am so fucking stupid. You two looked at each other one last time, shedding tears. The eyes of both soaking blatantly. And then the doors shut.

That heartbreak felt like concrete drying in your chest.

________________________________________________________________

Tagging: (I hope you don’t mind BUT tell me if you want to be removed, I was just curious to know your opinion about it, if you'd like to read it) MUCH LOVE @ladynuwanda @hecohansen31 @michael-langdon-appreciation @sojournmichael @so-langdon @stupidocupido @sammythankyou @emmyrosee

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kiraawrites · 5 years ago

Text

2MSS #23: Quality of Life (?)

From @writingprompts post.

Day 23 of the 2 Month Short Stories Challenge w/ @flyingfalconflower12

Word count: 1978

Constructive criticism welcome!

I want money, a mansion and a pretty girl. That day was Life-Switching day. The day our souls would switch in a manner so unpredictable that it was nicknamed The Great Casino. We would enter new bodies, with different genders, ages and wealth levels. This system was supposed to address inequality. But I was not sure how, as it seemed to boil down to how well-off one was. 365 days to make it big, or bust.

It was my first time in America. Over the past few years, I had a streak of Eastern European lives, followed by four years of being in China. I was a James Luther, living in a small apartment in a city full of people adjusting to their new lives. There were many smiles but twice as many sad faces. Guess I'm really not alone in this struggle. The apartment was outfitted with furniture that seemed older than the apartment itself. In the cracked bedroom mirror, I studied my new self. Last year's Luther definitely didn't make it.

Judging by the poor furniture, unemptied wastebasket and an emerging beer belly, I had a lot of things to do. To my luck, there was a gym next door. With the few dollar bills in my wallet, I got a membership card and started on the machines. Did I really deserve this life? I've never liked anything I got — except when I was an attractive Chinese guy. Well, I suppose I did flunk my college final exams last year... Sweat was dripping off me as if I had walked through a thunderstorm. My arms were shaking. Flexing my biceps turned into a fit of agonising pain. I gave up and returned home.

"I hate this new life," muttered the man behind the counter.

"I hate my new life too."

Slumped behind my wooden desk, I thought of what to do next. Eventually, I logged onto the Citizen Database to check my occupation and credentials. It took a while, scrolling through hundreds of Jameses. Most of them were my level (judging wealth-wise) and that made me smile, albeit somewhat bitterly. When clicking my name, I held my breath and wished for the best.

I worked at a MacDonald's and skimmed through high school.

God forbid. I failed one test and now they're giving me someone who has failed a hundred. I groaned and pummelled the table with my fists. Y'know what? I'll give this guy one good year. No matter how far down I am on the social ladder, at least I can have an office job next year.

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

The switch is all about your quality of life. What is that? I was manning the counter, taking orders in the high-speed lunch hour. The faces before me were dulled down with drowsiness, their lips forming a flat line. Monotone voices said orders. Echoes of their souls. No one was living in the moment. Our thoughts were occupied by the next year; its blessings and damnations tantalising as always.

I'm stuck in this trap. Just like everyone else. Well, time to break out of it. I attempted a smile on the next customer. Her face remained grim, preoccupied with something else.

Another one at the counter. The same unchanged expression. Stiff hands enclosing credit cards. As the crowds thinned, my heart sank. People were taking their last bites of their Big Macs. The restaurant was silent except for the footsteps in the kitchen. We were all unhappy. Dissatisfied. It's a hopeless vicious cycle, ain't it?

An old woman pulled the door open. Eyes landed on her as she hobbled over to the counter, her walking stick dragging across the floor. Her eyes were downturned and watery. Every step she took looked as if it hurt.

"Good afternoon, madam. What can I get you?" I asked in my most cheerful tone. It was the best I could do for a stranger having a bad day.

"Dear lord, you are the first person I've seen with a smile today!" she croaked. "People like you give me hope for this world."

In her eyes was the warmth of genuine fondness. The corners of her lips crept upwards as she looked over me. Something in my head prompted me to grin, and she did too. It was a fragment of joy in the often-upsetting world. From then on, I greeted every customer with the same geniality.

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

Stacked books glinted under my desk lamp. My hand tightened and loosened around a ballpoint pen as my eyes scanned over the question a few more times. It was nearing midnight and I was only on the second problem sum. Everything was tedious, much slower than it had been in any other year. The gears would not click.

The business course was carried out every weekday evening, just thirty minutes after my shift at a nearby community college. It was a small class with a subpar teacher that was barely warming up to his new profession. As I stumbled through lesson material, I kept a goal in my mind. I wanted a better job, something that would elevate me to a much higher position. An office job. Yes, that's what I want.

Ten minutes had passed. I threw down the pen, heaved a sigh of pent-up frustration and flung myself onto the creaking bed.

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

Back at the gym. My arms felt like falling off. But I'm not as weak as before. I held my breath and pushed for the fifteenth rep on the machine. My chin reached the top of the bar and I dropped down; a dead stone.

"Good to see you, James. How long have you been coming here?" asked another man. "I remember when you couldn't even do five reps on that thing."

"Ten and a half months. Ever since the switch. Every other day, I'm here."

I clenched my fists and looked from one arm to another. I definitely had more muscle — they bulged as my arms tensed up. But that's not the main thing. Not at all. I felt so much better. It was the small things; being able to walk from A to B without exhausting myself or lifting a box without ever wanting to collapse.

With my towel, I wiped sweat from my forehead and waved the man goodbye. My thoughts flickered back to home. When are those interview results coming back? I need that job for next year, goddamnit.

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

I flicked the lights on and surveyed the living room. The furniture was still the same: a second-hand sofa, a tiny table barely fitting two. An absolutely ugly home. But I love it, I thought as I sunk onto the sofa.

Most years were filled with a sense of impermanence. Time passing by, nothing mattering in the end. This year was different. I had changed my life; I had gripped it like a steering wheel and turned it around. I felt reborn. But it won’t matter in the end. This world is all about the money, and I need that job for it.

Rows upon rows of emails illuminated my face in the dark. They were all titled “Job Application for [Position Name]”. They didn’t even tell me whether I got in. Is that a bad sign? I shivered — felt like puking. Rumbling deep in my stomach reminded me of the dinner I had yet to eat. I should get on with opening all five of them.

Number one. Rejected. Alright, not my favourite of them all anyway. Kinda underpaid too. I forced a smile. I’ll be alright.

Number two. Not my favourite, but the pay is good. That’s what matters. I opened it with trembling hands. Rejected. Biting my lips, I groaned. Guess I was a tiny bit unqualified.

Number three. If all these attempts have failed, is there even any time to settle into a new job? Rejected. I suck. My eyes were watering as breathing became difficult. The back of my throat was salty with suppressed tears.

Number four. Rejected. As expected. How stupid was I to think they would accept me? I rank so low compared to everyone else. I’ll never, never be able to escape this trap. The underside of my jaw was wet and cold. I gasped for air as I choked on my tears.

Number five. I was shaking head to toe. All my effort... Doesn’t it mean something? Rejected. My voice sounded throughout the whole house as I cried out in my confusion and pain, a knot forming in my chest.

Clenching my fists, I punched the wall. The plaster gave way beneath my fist, falling to the floor. I staggered back in shock. My foot caught on the legs of the nearby mirror. As it fell, I stretched my arms out. It slipped from my grasp and crashed on the floor. Small shards of glass were scattered across the floor like crystalline tears.

As I vacuumed the floor, I steadied my breathing and calmed down. There is a chance still. But I’m happier now than I was before, no matter what. No matter what.

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

It was the night before Life-Switching day. I was rolling around in my bed, counting the seconds till midnight. The city was lively. Conversations droned on in bars and restaurants as people paid their last goodbyes to friends and fantasised about the future. Billboards were ready to switch to their “New Year, New Me” displays, attracting the few people fortunate enough to enter a life of wealth.

I still had no new job. At the back of my mind, it worried me. Yet, I had this sense that it was alright. A sense of contentedness passed over me for the first time in a while. Maybe it’s the finality of it all.

23:50. Ten minutes remaining. I found myself wishing to stay in this run-down apartment; remain as a man with a job at MacDonald’s. It was the newness of the drive to improve that made me want to stay, I knew. There was a potential to grow as James Luther, as I had witnessed.

23:59. One minute left. I gripped the edges of my bed and shut my eyes for the switch. It was coming, whether I liked it or not. I counted the seconds in my head. The last minute passed too fast. I snapped my eyes open, ready for the worst. However, I was there in that bed, staring at the plain white ceiling.

00:01, the bedside clock displayed. My phone showed the same as well. I peeked out of the window to see that the billboards had begun their campaigns. Something’s probably wrong. I’m so tired — might as well sleep.

09:00. Rubbing my eyes open, I looked around and expected a brand new apartment. But there it was: the mirror without glass and the desk beside it. The roof was pale white, as always. I must be dreaming. I pinched myself too hard and yowled.

At the front door, I grabbed the morning’s papers and scanned them for any anomalies. No. None! People were walking about as usual in the city. I pressed a palm against my forehead and thought hard. In the editor’s column was the yearly cheer up/congratulations nonsense. Having nothing else to calm my mind, I read it.

A few sentences caught my eye. “It’s all about the quality of life, they say. Nowhere does it mention material wealth or possessions. Does that mean a common man can break the trend?”

Nowhere. I spun around and gaped in realisation. I’ve been searching for the wrong thing this whole time! I found the key out of the trap! Someone was knocking my door. I opened it with a smile to find two black men in suits, their shoulders broad and imposing.

“We’d like your presence for an important government study.”

Taglist

@galaxy-charm @rhyseoshaughnessy @icedcoffeewriting @jiynix

#writeblr #my writing #writers of tumblr #writers #writing #kiraawrites #prose #2 month short stories #2MSS

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ganzeer-reviews · 5 years ago

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POPISM: THE WARHOL 60′s by Andy Warhol and Pat Hackett o-o-o-o-o

In most of his interviews, Andy Warhol wasn't very talkative and came off as hella awkward while simultaneously being kinda snarky, often dicking interviewers around. So it's quite refreshing to be getting his take on things in his own voice. 300 pages of it, no less. Sure, you can bet the actual writing was done by Pat Hacket, but you can be equally sure that the voice behind the writing belongs to no one but Andy Warhol.

"Very few people on the [West] Coast knew or cared about contemporary art, and the press for my show wasn't too good. I always have a laugh, though, when I think of how Hollywood called Pop Art a put-on! Hollywood?? I mean, when you look at the kind of movies they were making then--those were supposed to be real??"

It's also nice to see him recount his transition from his commercial art practice to his early beginning within the gallery circuit-- when he was still not quite sure of himself-- before he became a superstar and way before his studio became the go-to place for every major counter-cultural figure in America.

"By the time Ivan [Karp] (who worked at Leo Castelli Gallery) introduced me to Henry [Geldzahler] (who at the time was a new young 'curatorial-assistant-with-no-specific-duties' at the Met) I was keeping my commercial drawings absolutely buried in another part of the house because one of the people Ivan had brought by before had remembered me from my commercial art days and asked to see some drawings. As soon as I showed them to him, his whole attitude toward me changed. I could actually see him changing his mind about my paintings, so from then on I decided to have a firm no-show policy about the drawings. Even with Henry, it was a couple of months before I was secure enough about his mentality to show them to him."

But if it's the explosive Factory years you're interested in, rest assured there's plenty of that as well. One of the best things about this book though is Warhol's observations about the times. Because that is very much what the book is: a window onto the 1960's through they eyes and words of Andy Warhol. It starts off in 1960 and ends in 1969. By all accounts the 60's was a very special decade in America, and Warhol's retelling definitely drives the point home

"Everything went young in '64. The kids were throwing out all the preppy outfits and the dress-up clothes that made them look like their mothers and fathers, and suddenly everything was reversed--the mothers and fathers were trying to look like their kids."

It gets better:

"Generally speaking, girls were still pretty chubby, but with the new slim clothes coming in, they all went on diets. This was the first year I can remember seeing loads of people drink low-calorie sodas."

And then later:

"Since diet pills are made out of amphetamine, that was one reason speed was as popular with Society as it was with street people. And these Society women would pass out the pills to the whole family, too--to their sons and daughters to help them lose weight, and to their husbands to help them work harder and stay out later. There were so many people from every level on amphetamine, and although it sounds strange, I think a lot of it was because of the new fashions."

So you get interesting anecdotes like that, with associations and theories only someone like Warhol would come up with; Fashion made Speed popular.

He does go on tangents throughout the book, recounting other people's stories instead of his own--which I s'pose you can say is a very Warholian thing to do, isn't it? I can imagine some people getting tired of these long tangents, but I find them to be wonderful additions to Warhol's montage of the decade.

"'I gave Bob Dylan a book of my poems a couple of years ago,' Taylor [Mead] said, 'right after the first time I saw him perform. I thought he was a great poet and I told him so... And now', Taylor started to laugh, 'now when he's a big sensation and everything, he asked me for a free copy of my second book. I said 'but you're rich now--you can afford to buy it!' And he said, 'But I only get paid quarterly.'"

These asides cover a huge roster of characters, from Dylan to Jackson Pollock to Robert Rauschenberg to Jonas Mekas to Dennis Hopper to Edie Sedgwick to Jim Morrison to Lou Reed to Nico to Mick Jagger and on and on. The tone is very conversational and often gosspiy, but it isn't all mere gossip. You learn, for example, how Warhol introduced Henry Geldzahler to a young British painter by the name of David Hockney. This was before Geldzahler became curator of American Art at the Met and way before he became Commissioner of Cultural Affairs for New York City. And it was really before Andy Warhol himself became anything close to a cult figure, which he would start to become only 1-2 years later.

Hard to imagine the transition when you take into account the initial reception towards his work:

"When Ivan brought Leo Castelli up to my studio, the place was a mass, with the big canvases strewn around the living room--painting was a lot messier than drawing. Leo looked my stuff over, the Dick Tracys and the Nose Jobs in particular, and then said, 'Well, it's unfortunate, the timing, because I just took on Roy Lichtenstein, and the two of you in the same gallery would collide."

And then later:

"Henry Geldzahler was also pounding the pavements for me. He offered me to Sidney Janis, who refused. He begged Robert Elkon. He approached Eleanor Ward, who seemed interested but said she didn't have room. Nobody, but nobody, would take me."

Amidst the stories, the gossip, and observations, there's also the occasional tip.

"To be successful as an artist, you have to have your work shown in a good gallery for the same reason that, say, Dior never sold his originals from a counter in Woolworth's. It's a matter of marketing, among other things. If a guy has, say, a few thousand dollars to spend on a painting, he doesn't wander along the street till he sees something lying around that 'amuses' him. He wants to buy something that's going to go up and up in value, and the only way that can happen is with a good gallery, one that looks out for the artist, promotes him, and sees to it that his work is shown in the right way to the right people."

He finally got his first New York show in the fall of '62 at Eleanor Ward's Stable Gallery (only 3 years before announcing his retirement from painting). By early '63 he'd moved his work studio from his home to an old firehouse on East 87th st, and soon thereafter he hired Gerard Malanga as his assistant, who was also instrumental in keeping Andy plugged into all the cultural happenings.

"Gerard kept up with every arty event and movement in the city--all the things that sent out fliers or advertised in the Voice. He took me to a lot of dank, musty basements where plays were put on, movies screened, poetry read--he was an influence on me in that way."

The more things Warhol was exposed to, the more he soaked up stuff like a sponge, not just for his art, but for his very persona.

"In those days I didn't have a real fashion look yet... Eventually I picked up some style from Wynn [Chamberlain] , who was one of the first to go in for the S & M leather look."

Perhaps some of the most interesting parts in the book is when Warhol recounts some of his efforts in film, which indeed took up the majority of the 60's despite not "bringing home the bacon" in the same way the paintings did. Even today Andy's films have yet to occupy the same place his paintings have, but in reading his retelling it's hard to think that even the most skeptical of skeptics wouldn't be able to see that there's at least a bit of genius in them. In one bit, Warhol even talks about "slow cinema" something that seems to be regaining popularity in recent years.

"That had always fascinated me, the way people could sit by a window or on a porch all day and look out and never be bored, but then if they went to a movie or a play, they suddenly objected to being bored. I always felt that a very slow film could be just as interesting as a porch-sit if you thought about it the same way."

But all in all the greatest thing about the book is that it's such a perceptive account of some of the most interesting aspects of 60's New York. There's lots on Jonas Mekas' Cinematheque, plenty on the changing neighborhoods, how the East Village was becoming all Bohemian, when the Beatles became all the rage and the Stones were having publicity issues, how fashions were quickly evolving year after year ("The masses wanted to look non-conformist, so that meant the non-conformity had to be mass-manufactured").

I find it quite odd that in the wide array of art-related books recommended to me over the years, Andy Warhol's Popism was never mentioned once. In fact, I never even knew of the book's existence, and just happened upon it by sheer coincidence. It strikes me as essential reading to anyone interested in not just Andy Warhol, but New York's art scene in the 60's more generally, arguably the most important decade in American art and culture at large. And actually, art aside, it's an incredible telling account of the decade more generally, with Warhol's keen observations on things like fashion, music, and media. Even with Warhol's shortcomings--his obsessions with things like glamour, fame, and money, all things that come across in this here book--he still manages to do what he's always done best: hold up a mirror right in America's face.

Highly recommended.

[Available on Amazon]

#book #prose #review #andy warhol #warhol #new york #1960s

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keelywolfe · 6 years ago

Text

FIC: Playing to Win (baon)

Summary: Some people play games to have fun. Some people play to win.Stretch is pretty sure he knows what category he falls in.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Original Undertale Characters, Fluff, Domestic, Flirting

Notes: This story is for @stoffelees who gave me the idea!

To quote:

"Each person gets $20 and has to buy their outfit for the date at a visit to the thrift store immediately before starting the date (so no washing or altering)."

Way too fun of an idea to let go!

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

“You’re all taking forever,” Stretch whined from where he was sprawled across a couple of chairs outside the dressing rooms. If anyone else had been there, he would have behaved and sat up, but it was Wednesday night and they were at the thrift store. Not exactly lining up to get in.

If there were any adventures to be had tonight, then they were definitely going to have to venture out to find them. Which was the damn plan, if all the slowpokes would hurry the hell up.

“Keep your hair on, I’m almost done,” Jeff called. Whatever he was changing into seemed to involve some effort, there was a lot of shuffling around going on in there. If he hadn’t actually seen Antwan going into another dressing room, Stretch would have peeked under the door to count feet.

Stretch leaned back until his head was hanging off the side of the chair, “if that’s supposed to be a pun of some sort, andy, i’m deducting two points for lack of originality.”

“Hey, it could be foreshadowing,” Jeff complained amicably. “For all I know, you’re wearing a wig. Isn’t that the point of this?”

Huh…well, he made a good argument.

“true,” Stretch agreed, “i’ll allow it, full credit.”

“Thank you,” Jeff said primly. It was ruined by Antwan’s interrupting with a fresh round of exasperation, only a little muffled by the door.

“If you two are done, would you let me finish getting this on?”

“yeah, yeah, hurry up in there!” Stretch twisted so he was straddling the seat, eyeing the trio of closed doors. Edge was being suspiciously quiet, but then, he was counting himself lucky just for getting him through the door. His baby had a sense of humor, but this was a little more prop-oriented than he usually went for.

It had been Stretch’s idea from the beginning, borrowed from a link someone had sent him on Twitter. Every week he posted a list of his thrift store finds and last time someone had sent a reply suggesting that since he loved thrifting so much, maybe he’d like to try a game.

Once he’d read up on it, well, of course he fucking had. This was 14-karat comedy gold and all he needed was a few willing victims players.

The rules were simple; each of them had twenty bucks to spend at the thrift store on an outfit for the night. There was no washing, no adjusting, straight up as it came and that, friends and neighbors, had sounded like an excellent time.

If he were honest, Stretch hadn’t really believed they’d be able to talk Antwan or Edge into it. Sometimes they were a little…eh…stodgy might be a good word.

Tear-inducingly boring might be better. It was Wednesday, the most mind-numbingly crap day of the week. If Stretch had to guess, he’d say even Wednesday’s mom didn’t like it. Had to step it up on Wednesdays to feel alive, that was a fact.

Although to be fair Stretch really thought not being able to wash the clothes beforehand was what would put Edge off more than anything.

It had been an unexpected, and delightful, surprise when Edge readily agreed. Stretch wasn’t sure why, but he also knew you didn’t look gift horses up the ass, not if you wanted to keep the gifts coming.

He didn’t know how Jeff had convinced Antwan and wasn’t gonna ask. Not until they had a few drinks in them, anyway. An exchange of goods and/or services was maybe involved, and Jeff did like to chatter after a few shots.

However they’d gotten their two lovable ‘A’ personalities to unpucker their assholes, real and implied, enough to get through the doors didn’t matter. The point was they were here, and it had been an abso-fucking-delight to see the way those two had gotten into it.

They’d kept a suspicious distance from each other, hiding their best finds under a pile of cheap coats in their cart. Stretch had to give them both credit; when Edge and Antwan did anything, they did it with furious intent. They were playing to win, and it was gonna get heated.

Stretch really hoped it got heated, in many, many ways.

Course, he did have a slight advantage, not that Stretch would ever admit to it. He knew most of the people who worked here, and they tended to save anything they thought might tickle his funny bone. He might have accidentally let it slip to them about the game when he’d stopped in last week and they’d acted like he issued them a personal challenge.

It wasn’t cheating, thank you, it was taking advantage of an available resource. And he didn’t think Edge was going to mind once he got a good look.

Not long after they’d gotten here, one of the floor workers had snuck him an armful of secret clothing goodies and Stretch could have kissed them all for their hard work, with generous use of tongue.

Somehow, they’d wrangled him an actual zoot suit, a rich striped brown with a burnt orange shirt and a matching tie. They’d even found him a fedora and so long as he was dressed like this, he felt not a single hipster vibe. Every time he glanced in one of the mirrors, Stretch grinned. He looked like he was about to break into a jazz riff at any moment and considering how gleeful he felt, he just might. This was a winner, for sure.

But it was his Twitter followers who would be the ultimate judges.

“I’m ready,” Antwan called. Before Stretch could even grumble that it was about time, the flimsy door creaked open and so did Stretch’s jaw. He was starting to suspect he wasn’t the only person with an insider because Antwan was in a full tuxedo with tails, complete with gloves and an actual damn top hat. It was maybe a little big on him but hell, he was owning it. If he busted out with a Broadway rendition of ‘Phantom of the Opera,’ Stretch couldn’t say he’d be surprised.

“you look great,” Stretch said, flabbergasted to honesty.

“I know,” Antwan preened. Even his shoes were polished to a mirror shine and Stretch had a nasty feeling there had been some judicious backstabbing here in the form of Thrift Store Employees who wanted a fun night even more than he did.

He was retracting his mental offer of tongue, et tu, Macklemore.

“Okay, my turn!” Jeff all but skipped out of his dressing room, posing like a cheerleader and Stretch couldn’t help a laugh.

Jeff pretty much looked like he’d stepped out of a Tiger Beat magazine. In a denim miniskirt and sneakers with scrunched socks, topped with a t-shirt emblazoned with glittery letters that proclaimed “I ‘heart’ the 80’s”.

He gave Stretch a teasing wink and blew a large pink bubble, snapping his gum. Stretch caught a whiff of Hubba Bubba.

“extra points for realism,” Stretch grinned. “looking good, debbie gibson,”

“Hell, yeah, I do,” Jeff neatly settled a pink plastic visor on his head. “I shaved my legs the second you told me about this. Shame you can’t wear your own clothes, I have an awesome bedazzled denim jacket that would go great.”

“You look great even without it,” Antwan assured him. He tugged Jeff in for a kiss and Stretch watched shamelessly, his chin propped on one hand. If he bothered to glance in the mirror, his eye lights would probably be little hearts, but there was no time for confirmation. They were still one shy from a trip down the runway.

Stretch rolled to his feet and tapped lightly on the closed door, “you joining us tonight, babe?”

“I’m almost ready,” Edge said, a touch curtly, and Stretch stepped back with a mental shrug. Maybe Edge wasn’t as cool with this as he’d thought he would be?

Stretch couldn’t even guess what Edge had found or even what the local traitors had helped him find. Maybe he’d gone for simple, a plain button-up and jeans, or a sweater? Maybe even a suit, they had a pretty nice selection available for people looking to pick up a cheap outfit for a job interview. It was possible he was even feeling playful and might be wearing a t-shirt with a silly slogan, but that was probably asking too much.

Didn’t matter, whatever he was wearing was going to be awesome, because Edge had agreed to play along even if he probably thought it was stupid. He’d agreed because he knew it would make Stretch happy and that meant more to him than any t-shirt or funny shoes. It meant the world.

He plopped back into his chair as the doorknob started to turn. The first thing Stretch heard right before the door opened was a jangle, what the hell—

“uh…” Stretch said, blankly. Every thought in his skull came to a screeching halt, melted like warm butter on a stovetop, and left nothing behind but two words on repeat, an alarm klaxon of oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck—

The jangle was from his boots, full-on motorhuckle ones with crisscrossed buckles and chains that went halfway up his calves. Edge was wearing a plain black T-shirt that outlined his ribs enticingly, a red bandanna tied around his neck, and a leather vest hanging open overtop. His jeans were criminally tight, riding low on his pelvis and whenever he moved, Stretch caught a tantalizing glimpse of his iliac crests.

The whole package was topped off with a wide leather belt, the metal buckle an actual skull and crossbones, what the fuck, abort, abort, Stretch needed a full damn reboot, this did not compute. This little game was supposed to be funny not…not…this!

His crotch was giving a pretty firm alert that funny was not the correct adjective of the night.

Edge gave him a smirk, cocking his hip in a way that dragged his T-shirt up another bare inch. “Problem, love?” he asked, silkily.

“that did not cost twenty bucks,” Stretch said flatly.

“Hm, you’re right,” Edge mused. He propped one foot up on the seat right next to Stretch, the smooth leather brushing against his hip, and what that did to his jeans had to be illegal by state and federal law. “The boots are mine. The rest, however, is well within the rules.”

He leaned in, catching Stretch’s tie between two leather-clad fingers, letting the silk fabric hiss through his grip. “You look good.”

“thanks,” Stretch swallowed hard, trying to ease the embarrassing squeak in his voice. Useless, probably, it was a little surprising that he had enough magic left in the upper half of his body to even allow speech. “that outfit is better suited for your motorcycle than the car.”

Edge smirked and the crimson of his eye lights was a banked fire. “So it is. I think I’ll keep it. You never know, it might come in handy someday.”

The low, growling purr in his voice was definitely cheating and as soon as a thought managed to rattle to life in Stretch’s empty skull, he was going to call him out for it. Any time now..

“Okay, enough with the eye sex,” Antwan sighed, breaking the spell, and Stretch thought he deserved an extra point or two for the rescue. “I’m starving, the movie starts in two hours, and the clerks look like they are half a step from a riot over there.”

True enough, every worker in the store was crowded by the registers, phones in hand. Stretch made a mental note to remind them all to keep their head shots off the internet, clothes-only for the voting. Cheating could only go so far.

“We can’t have eye sex,” Edge pointed out. “Technically we don’t have eyes.”

“Uh huh,” Antwan looked like he was biting off an argument, which, hell, two points for suppression of Lawyery Instincts in the face of expediency. “Whatever it is, it belongs in the bedroom, not the thrift store. Let’s hit it.”

He gave Jeff a light pat on the ass, earning an indignant yelp but not an actual protest, the two of them making their way up front.

Stretch hesitated and gave Edge a narrow look even as he tried not to fall under that gorgeous denim spell again.

“you lost, you know,” Stretch told him, loftily. “the boots disqualify you. everything was supposed to be from the thrift store.”

“Did I?” Edge asked, unconcernedly. Stretch had to stifle a moan that definitely didn’t belong in the vicinity of a thrift store as Edge crowded up behind him, denim and leather scraping roughly against his suit. His breath was hot against Stretch’s skull as he whispered, “I think you’ll find I may have lost your game, but I’m definitely winning mine.”

“uh huh,” Stretch mumbled inanely. He stood wobbling on his feet as Edge drew away and went to join the others. The sway of his hips in those jeans did absolutely nothing for rebooting Stretch’s flagging IQ.

It did plenty for other parts of him.

Stretch closed his eyes and gave himself a mental shake. If that was the way Edge wanted to play, well, maybe it was time for him to rack up some of his own points. He cleared his throat, testing his voice, “ready for my close up, mr demille.”

Smooth as the silk of his tie, Stretch decided with a smirk of his own and spun his hat on one finger as he made his way up front.

Time to play.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underswap papyrus #underfell papyrus #by any other name

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richrubies · 6 years ago

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Back Stage II: Foolish Enough (GD x Reader)

Warning: idk violence? foul language, angst, bullshit ex boyfriends do

‘How long?’ you asked quietly as you leaned against the wall of the now—empty dressing room. Young-bae had led everyone away from the room moments ago, bitterly taking Kiko with them as they went.

Jiyong refused to meet your eye as he replied, scratching the back of his head, ‘Not long…We ran into each other last month when I was in America.’

‘And so?’ you prompted, your voice quivering.

Jiyong’s shot up from where he sat at his vanity, and defended, ‘But we didn’t do anything, I swear to God, Y/N?’

‘Just because you don’t sleep with someone, doesn’t mean you don’t want them, Jiyong,’ you tell him quietly.

You prayed for him to deny it. To tell you that it wasn’t anything serious, that they were just old friends that had seen each other after so long.

But it never came. And if it did, you wouldn’t have believed it anyway. You saw him on stage. You saw the same longing that he used to have for you.

Jiyong’s heart had been moved by Kiko’s reappearance in his life.

You thought you would cry, or at least scream, but all that came out was a pathetic sigh. Pushing yourself off of the wall, you moved around the room and collected the few balloons that your friends had managed to inflate, along with the bags that the items came in. Sighing, you look at Jiyong who remain seated with his head hung low, and muttered, ‘Bye, G-Dragon.’

As you left the room, Jiyong called your name, asking you to wait whilst he remained where he sat, which was all you needed to know. He wanted you to wait; for you to meet his needs.

But you’d grown tired of doing that, and so you walked further away even as tears fell down your face.

~*~

It took months for the articles to relent.

G-Dragon spotted with Kiko! Old flames reignited?

Relationship between Korean Idol GD and Japanese Model Kiko, confirmed!

Marriage on the cards, says Kiko in an exclusive interview

Pregnancy speculation between GD and Kiko – is the prince of KPop about to be born?

It’d been eight months since your break up, and new articles were released so often that you’d nearly given up on reading and watching the news just to avoid Jiyong’s face.

You’d flown back to Korea three days after the back-stage confrontation, having decided to spend your holiday doing what you wanted to originally do, minus the boyfriend part of course. You didn’t receive any texts from Jiyong other than one telling you that he was sorry, and that he loves you, but he just wasn’t ready for your relationship.

Not ready for a relationship my ass, you scoffed at the memory.

You’d thrown yourself into your work once you’d returned. The first thing you’d done, however, was change all the locks and passwords to your home and office.

You had to be grateful to Jiyong in a way, however. Knowing and loving him had bought many amazing people in to your life, including a lot of the YG family. Hyorin and Young-bae had supported you more than you could ever have expected, and in return, you had played a large role in organizing their wedding.

You were a manager and designer who specialized in private events; so together with your favourite couple, you’d spent the last three months planning their wedding, perfecting the details and catering to their every need.

Currently, you were sat in your work-shop office which sat on balcony of the second floor, overlooking the rest of the office where several other employees were; Hyorin’s wedding board was sat in the centre of the room amongst many others, covered in images and details which you had gradually built together.

‘So, everything is ready to go?’ Hyorin asked excitedly.

You nod with a grin, ‘We just have to confirm the seating plans and guests so that we know how many heads to cater for; as well as for the gift bags,’

Hyorin nodded and pulled out her diary and began to rattle off the changes that had been made to the guest list. It wasn’t until you’d nearly wrapped up the meeting, that Hyorin asked, ‘Have you seen the headlines?’

‘Which one? I stopped looking a few weeks ago,’ you ask absentmindedly as you shifted through your binder book dedicated to the upcoming wedding.

‘GD and Kiko split up.’

You froze momentarily before continuing to shift your papers around, looking up at Hyorin, ‘Did Young-bae confirm it?’

Hyorin nodded, sighing, ‘He was up most of the night talking with Jiyong about it when it happened. He said it was bound to happen. They’re not meant to be together. They’re too similar.’

‘Similarity is a bad thing?’ you ask with an eyebrow raised.

‘Not always…But Jiyong needs stability in a world that’s continuously rocking, and Kiko isn’t able to provide that for him when she herself is continuously on the move.’

You nodded in understanding, and countered, ‘I guess she’s off the list as well, huh?’

Hyorin snorted but nodded in agreement, wondering as to how you could keep your composure after all that you went through because of both Jiyong and Kiko.

~*~

The venue had been styled to perfection, and you couldn’t have thanked your team enough for all of the effort that they had put into preparing for the wedding. You’d handed over the manager’s headset to one of your colleagues so that you could enjoy the wedding with your friends, which was what led you to be walking in to the room with your arm wrapped around Mino’s.

‘Wow,’ Mino complimented, ‘This is amazing!’

You grinned, squeezing his arm lightly, ‘Did I do a good job?’

‘You can plan my wedding,’ Mino tells you in response, a grin on his face. Seungri had offered to be your date for the wedding, but you had preferred to go with Mino, seeing as you were the same age and had become friends through working together on the stage sets. Plus, it meant you wouldn’t be stuck around GD if you went with him.

You’d even matched to Mino’s outfit, wearing a thin-strapped navy-blue dress that hugged your figure, with white lace tracing along the lowcut neckline and bottom of the skirt that ended mid-calf.

‘It’ll cost you,’ you tell him playfully as you found people to conversate with as you waited for the bride and groom to enter the room.

Sipping on a sweet alcoholic-free drink, you watched as Seungri entered, along-side his friends and band members. He spotted you almost immediately, leaving both Seunghyun and Daesung to rush over and hug you tightly.

‘What’s going on?’ you laugh as he held you, ‘We saw each other at the ceremony!’

‘I’m just happy to see you, is all, it’s been so long,’ he tells you honestly, looking down at the outfit that you’d previously hidden behind a coat, ‘Yah, you look amazing.’

Mino joined you both and bowed respectively. Seungri clapped his back, ‘You’re lucky to have a date like our Y/N,’ he turns to you with narrowed eyes, ‘I can’t believe you rejected me for my junior.’

Laughing, you apologize, ‘Sorry 오빠, I’ll be your date to the next wedding.’

He rolled his eyes, ‘That’ll be in another twenty years at this rate!’

You hadn’t noticed Jiyong sidle up to your conversation, but there he stood, as handsome and shameless as ever.

‘Seunghyun-형 wants you,’ GD tells Seungri, ignoring your presence.

Awkwardly, Seungri nodded. His eyes shifting between you two as he stuttered out, ‘Ah…Okay…I’ll see you in a bit, Y/N! Save me a dance!’

Nodding, you waved him away as Jiyong dragged him towards where Top was sitting, looking as uncomfortable as ever.

Mino cleared the uncomfortable air by muttering, ‘Let’s go eat some of the snacks, huh?’

~*~

As the night wore on and your feet had begun to hurt from the amount of dancing, you found yourself sitting on one of the chairs near the bar, watching over the guests with a smile. The couple were in the throng of it all, happily swaying with the guests. They really did make a beautiful pair.

You hadn’t seen Jiyong for a while; come to think of it, you hadn’t seen Seungri or Daesung either. As you thought this, a deep and familiar voice interrupted you.

‘Y/N.’

Looking up, you smiled at Top, ‘Seung-hyun 오빠!’

You hadn’t had the chance to talk to him all night, not with many of the other guests crowding him, excited to see him for the first time in months.

‘Have you been well?’ he asked in his low tone, a small smile on his lips.

‘Mm. I’ve been well,’ you tell him honestly as he sat beside you. ‘How have you been holding up?’

You ask in reference of the scandals and articles that had been released over the last few months.

‘Well…It’s bearable,’ he tells you with a shrug, sipping on his drink.

‘You look well, at least,’ you tell him, ‘That’s a relief. I was worried about you. Did you not get my messages?’

‘How are you still so kind after what our friend did to you?’ he blurts out suddenly.

You couldn’t help but shrink back from his intense stare and shrugged, ‘It was Jiyong who did me wrong. Not you, or Ri, or any of the others. I shouldn’t put that responsibility on you.’

‘Not even if I knew about it?’ he asked quietly.

‘Did you know about it?’ you ask with a hint of disappointment.

He nodded in response. Your shoulders fell but before you could say anything else, your colleague emerged from the side-lines of the event and approached you with haste, trying her best to remain calm as she strode purposefully to your position.

‘What’s wrong?’ you ask immediately, standing from your seat and ignoring Top who followed your movement.

You knew from the look that she gave, that something had gone wrong. Nodding to Seunghyun, you excused yourself and followed Sunny out of the venue and into a private room.

‘What’s going on?’ you ask, looking around.

‘It’s Mr. Kwon,’ she tells you, ‘He’s trashed the leaving vehicle that the couple are meant to be leaving in, in less than 40 minutes!’

‘What?’

‘There’s no problem in getting a new one in, I’ve already taken the necessary steps.’

‘So, what is the problem?’

‘He’s still in the garage and he refuses to come out. Mr. Lee and Kang are with him now, and they said not to involve any security in case a reporter gets wind of it.’

You scowled, before kicking off the god-forsaken heels you wore, and taking the spare walkie-talkie that Sunny was carrying.

‘I’ll deal with it. Make sure you get team one to replace all of the décor for the car, and our cleaning crew on standby for when I get that psychopath out of the room,’ you tell her, the authority and tone of your experience coming to light, ‘And make sure no one suspects a thing. This information can’t be shared with anyone. I don’t want to ruin Young-bae and Hyorin’s wedding.’

Sunny nodded, and set herself to work, whilst you left the room and marched towards the venue’s private parking garage where you had had the car stored earlier in the evening.

After following a series of corridors, you found yourself eye-to-eye with Daesung, who looked just as tussled and frustrated as you.

‘What’s going on?’ you ask him, catching him by surprise as he guarded the door.

Without hesitation, Daesung tells you, ‘He’s drunk and pissed off.’

‘So, he’s got more than one problem and he’s decided to take his frustration out on everything else?’ you say dead-pan, knowing exactly what this meant. You could hear the smashing and crashing from within, along with Seungri trying to control Jiyong.

Daesung nodded whilst you sighed, ‘Let me in. I’ll deal with it.’

‘I wouldn’t…’

‘Move,’ you tell him again, ‘I’m just as pissed off as Jiyong. I can handle it.’

Daesung nodded, ‘Be careful.’

You gave him a quick smile to reassure him before opening the door and finding yourself face-to-face with the car Jiyong had just finished taking to with a bat. The ground was covered in glass, and there were dents all throughout the one side of the car that you could see.

Jesus Christ.

Seungri stood in the corner of the room with a busted lip, looking dishevelled whilst Jiyong stood on the opposite side of the room with his back to you, one hand clenched into a fist, and the other clutching a bottle of top-shelf liquor.

Without a word, you moved towards Seungri and grabbed his face, gently holding it as he looked away from Jiyong and at you in surprise.

‘What are you doing here?’

You brushed a thumb over his lip with a frown, testing whether it was bad enough for him to need medical attention. He hissed, ‘Yah.’

‘Are you okay?’ you ask, attempting to straighten out his outfit and gently petting his arms to soothe him.

‘I’m fine. You shouldn’t be here,’ Seungri tells you quietly.

‘Why?’ Jiyong interrupts with a slur, causing you both to jump in surprise, ‘Are you worried that I’ll hurt her?’

Seungri moved to lurch forward, but was stopped by your arms, ‘It’s okay. You need to get out of here. I’ll deal with this.’

‘But,’ Seungri started, only to stop when you shook your head, ‘Trust me. I’ll be fine.’

Leading Seungri out of the door before closing it, you looked toward Jiyong who was now leaning against the car he’d just ruined, watching you with narrowed eyes.

‘You have them all under your thumb, huh?’

‘What?’ you ask from the other side of the room.

Jiyong moved forward a few steps, ‘Mino, Seungri, Young-bae. They’re all at your beck and call,’ he spits out.

‘They’re my friends.’ You tell him blatantly.

‘They were mine first.’

‘If Young-bae is your friend, why are you trying to ruin his wedding?’

‘I’m not trying to rui–‘

‘Then what the fuck are you doing in here?’ you ask him venomously, ‘Having a tea party?’

Jiyong blinked in surprise at your sudden anger.

‘How dare you try and ruin his day! You have fucking issues, Jiyong, we get it, but don’t drag anyone else down on your way out!’

Jiyong’s nostrils flared, ‘That’s right! I have issues! And you’re one of the biggest ones! You left me!’

You laugh bitterly, ‘Grow up Jiyong. You stayed where you wanted to be and I didn’t. That’s the difference between you and I.’

Jiyong had no response; not that you gave him a chance to find one, anyway, ‘You’re the one who got in to a relationship and moved on, so how dare you stand there after eight months and tell me that I’m one of your issues!’

‘Kiko and I…We broke up…For good this time.’ Jiyong tells you as he walked closer, the glass crunching under his shoes.

‘Congratulations,’ you tell him sarcastically.

‘I’m sorry for what I did to you,’ Jiyong continues, stopping so that he was only a foot away, ‘My heart wavered…but after seeing you tonight…All of those old feelings came rushing back…I couldn’t even look at you without wanting to kis–‘

He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before your hand reached out and slapped him across the cheek, a loud crack echoing from the power of your hit, you yelled, ‘You’re a fucking pig, Jiyong. Do you think that I’m easy? That you can waltz back in to my life and tell my sweet nothings like the good old days? You made your choice that day. Live with it!’

The door swung open and Seungri looked at you with worry after hearing the sound of the slap and your raised tone, ‘Y/N! Are you okay?’

Ignoring Seungri, you angrily point your finger at Jiyong, ‘Three things are going to happen from now on Jiyong. One. You’re going to get out of this room so that my team can take care of the mess you’ve made. Two. You’re going to wash your face and go back into that wedding and pretend this shit never happened. Three. You’re not going to speak about this to anyone, especially not Young-bae. Is that clear?’

Still in shock from your hit that surely sobered him up, Jiyong stumbled towards the door airily, allowing Daesung to drag him down the hall as he looked over his shoulder at you.

You’d changed, he thought as he rounded the corner, you’d gotten much better at fighting against him. Unlike before when you’d argue, those words of finding you attractive would cause you to melt into him and you would give in to him easily. Now...now you were someone he barely even knew.

As you stood, chest heaving, attempting to not let any tears fall, Seungri murmured, ‘Crazy son of a bitch…Yah! Your feet are bleeding! Where are your shoes?’

Without responding, you spoke into your walkie-talkie, ‘Send in the cleaning crew and make sure that Jiyong is presentable before letting him back in. I’ll also need someone to take care of Seungri.’

‘What’s wrong with me?’ Seungri asks confused as you calmed yourself down enough to respond, ‘You’ve got a split lip and a bit of bruising is beginning to show.’

‘Yah…Your feet are probably much worse than my lip! Come on, I’ll carry you there, you might have glass in your feet…Ah this crazy girl!’

~*~

The rest of the wedding went on without any issues. Jiyong played his part and clapped happily, dancing with whoever asked, and put on a façade that even you had to watch in awe.

Seungri remained glued to your side, keeping a watchful eye on you as the night continued, taking over Mino’s role as a date, which you were grateful for, seeing as you didn’t want to ruin Mino’s night.

When it came to send off the couple, Seungri wrapped his arm around your waist and attempted to carry a majority of your weight whilst making it look natural.

You hissed under your breath a few times from the stinging of the now-bandaged cuts, but managed to put on a smile and wave to the oblivious couple as they marched down the stairs of the venue and into the shining new vehicle that had replaced the one Jiyong had totalled.

After a while, the crowd dispersed and the reception ended with you sitting on the front steps, leaning against Seungri as you looked down at your feet – it was funny how you hadn’t even noticed the pain as you had rushed to Seungri’s side and now you wished whole-heartedly that you still couldn’t feel it.

‘I’ll take you home,’ Seungri tells you with a nod whilst you attempted to protest that you were okay, ‘At least then, I can make sure you’re home safely.’

It became evident that you couldn’t fight him on this one, and so you nodded your head gratefully while waiting for Seungri’s driver to pull around.

~*~

Your apartment building was in sight as you attempted to walk on your own two feet. It took all of ten seconds before Seungri scoffed and bent to scoop you up, ‘No offence, Y/N, but it’s been a really long day, and you’re going to take forever to get to your apartment like this, so I’ll just carry you instead.’

Rolling your eyes, you let him carry you into the building and onto the elevator, pushing for the 27th floor.

As soon as Seungri stepped off of the lift, he froze, bringing your drowsy attention to the figure leaning against your front door with his head hanging low.

Jiyong looked up at the sound of the elevator, and his eyes narrowed at the position you and Seungri were in.

‘Just ignore him,’ you tell Seungri, and so he did, marching to your door and pushing in the code whilst Jiyong watched.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked as Seungri kicked open the door and stepped inside, shutting it on Jiyong’s face, ‘Yah! How dare you ignore your 형!’

The banging on the door continued, up until the point that Seungri had set you down a glass of water and some pain-killers.

‘I’d better get going.’

‘Thanks for helping me,’ you tell him earnestly.

‘You know that we all have your back, Y/N. Make sure to put ointment on your feet!’

‘Mm,’ you respond as you waved him off from the couch.

As soon as the apartment door had opened and closed, you could hear the two arguing out front of the door.

‘What were you doing in there, huh?’

‘I had to bring her home,’ came Seungri’s reply.

‘Why were you carrying her like that?’ Jiyong questioned.

‘Because her feet are covered in cuts! From the glass you smashed! Honestly, 형 ! Don’t you think you’ve done enough? Don’t you think you’ve hurt her enough?’

‘She’s hurt?’

You’d crawled to the door at this point, struggling to stand before you swung open the door to glare at Jiyong, ‘When it comes to you, Jiyong, I’m always hurt. Now get the hell away from my apartment before I call security.’

Slamming the door shut on his stunned face and Seungri who had already turned and walked away, you sunk to the floor and let out a quiet sob.

It was true. You were always hurt when it came to him; because he’d betrayed you, because he’d never chased you when you walked away; you were hurt because he saw you as someone foolish enough to listen to his bullshit and accept it immediately.

Most of all, you were hurt because he never left your heart, not even for a second.

WELL

HERE’S PART TWO

I DON’T KNOW WHERE I’M GOING WITH THIS

BUT Y’KNOW

WE’LL FIGURE IT OUT ON THE WAY

Part one is here

Requests are open! Please read the rules and character list before sending in ya guilty pleasures!

Master list is here

Rules are here

Characters are here

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artist-tae · 7 years ago

Text

Gucci Boy - Taehyung Imagine

You’re my kind of woman

My, oh my, what a girl

You're my kind of woman

And I'm down on my hands and knees

Begging you please, baby, show me your world

Words: 1615

After spraying your perfume on your neck, you placed it back in your snake-designed bag, walking out of the shopping mall bathroom. It was a normal winter day in New York City, you were off work today and decided to treat yourself to some shopping after a stressful week. The shops were packed as everyone rushed to purchase their Christmas gifts. You watched as you saw couples walking hand in hand and they stared into each other’s eyes as they talked. You tried not to be jealous but it was difficult. You just broke up with your boyfriend a couple of weeks ago and you were still struggling to adapt to the single life especially around Christmas time. As you walked around the shops the Christmas music began to ache your head. Frustrated you spotted your favourite shop, Gucci. You smirked to yourself as its logo gleamed down at you. You were lucky to have a successful job here in New York that paid you well enough to live a life of luxuries, one of them buying Gucci clothes.

A smile crept across your face as you walked into the doors, a warm heat overwhelming you. The store was covered in marble and gold, colourful clothes hanged elegantly around the room. The slightest noise of jazz music filled the room which you could hear perfectly as no one seemed to be in the shop. You gave a smile to a staff working here and began to walk around the store. Your eyes caught on a beautiful blue shirt. It was the exact one you seen in your favourite magazine. It was a blue shirt along with the famous snake design on the collar. You smiled down at it as you searched for your size. Just as you were about to grab the shirt’s hanger the doors of the door slid open. Your eyes moved to the noise and you stopped whatever you were doing to stare at him.

He stood towering over the staff member. His longs fingers clutched onto his Gucci bag and his mouth smiled to the staff member. His face was the most beautiful thing you have ever saw. His glowing tan skin and loving eyes made your mouth hung low. He was dressed like a model, his black trousers structured his long legs perfectly and his oversized shirt made his shoulder appear wider. You had to force yourself to straighten up. You felt like a school girl with a crush. Your eyes focused back on the blue shirt trying your best to ignore the nameless boy. Suddenly a lady appeared next to you smiling widely.

“Excuse me miss, do you wish to try this on?”, she questioned.

“Yes please”, you nodded handing her the article of clothing. She gestured to follow her up the glamour stairs. The room was filled with luxurious changing rooms while the soft jazz musical rang throughout the room. The walls of the room were just mirrors which showed your reflection. The lady held her hand out towards a changing room. You thanked her and stepped into the changing room closing the door behind you.

You quickly had the shirt on, content that it fitted you perfectly. However, as you looked around the changing room there seemed to be no mirror. You sighed but remembered the mirror covered walls outside. You opened your door and walked out to get closer to the mirror but your eyes caught something else in the mirror. In the large mirror you could see him, he was staring right back at you through the mirror as well. Your eyes turned away from his reflection to look at his actual self. Your eyes travelled down to his shirt. It was the exact same as yours. It seemed like he did the same to you as when you looked back up he was looking back at you. Both of you gave each other a light chuckle to avoid awkwardness as you felt your cheeks turn a shade of pink.

You broke the eye contact and turned back to face your reflection. You turned your body in different ways in front of the mirror as you decide if it was worth spending so much money on it. As you were adjusting the collar you were noticing you kept hearing groans and sighs. Curiosity overcame you and you sneaked a glance over at the man. His face was screwed up in annoyance as he was struggling to tie his tie on. You bit your lip to avoid letting a laugh leave your mouth as you enjoyed his struggle. As you looked back at yourself in the mirror ready to go back to the changing room you heard him speak up.

“Excuse me”, the raspy voice spoke up, “Can you help me with this?”

His finger pointed to the messy tie and his checks were noticeably red. You smiled at his defeat with the inanimate object. You nodded and walked over to him. Your hands lifted up to his neck undoing his tie. Noticing about much you needed to stretch your arms he took a step closer to you. At this point, you could smell his cologne, a rich but sweet smell entered your nose. Trying your best to ignore it you put your hands around his neck to wrap the tie around it. You focused your attention on tying his tie but it was the most difficult thing you ever did. You could feel his eyes gazing at your face and you couldn’t hold in your blush.

“I’m Kim Taehyung”, he says, his voice like silk.

You said your name to him as a smirk spread across his face. “It’s a beautiful name”, Taehyung replies. Just as you thought your face couldn’t get any redder. You finished up tying up the tie around his neck and removed your hands away from him. Taehyung turned to the mirror, debating if the tie was worth the money. He turned back to you and struck a goofy pose. You immediately let out a laugh admiring his humour.

“I love it Taehyung”, you said, a goofy smile spreading across your face.

“I think I’m going to buy it”, he says admiring himself in the mirror. You nodded and turned away to walk back to your changing room until Taehyung spoke up again.

“(Y/N), thank you again, so much”, he stated, a boxy smile appeared on his face.

You smiled and welcomed him and continued back into the changing room.

You arrived at the checkout with the shirt. As the lady scanned the clothing you felt a presence behind you. You knew it was him. “Are you busy tonight?”, he whispered behind to you. You swiped your credit card and thanked the lady. “Sorry Kim Taehyung, I’m having dinner tonight with someone”, you replied as you watched him pay for his new articles of clothing. You both walked out of the shop. “Oh, you have a boyfriend” he stated disappointedly. “No, it’s a business meeting”, you explained watching the boy’s face light up again. “What about tomorrow night?”, he questioned you eagerly. You stared at him for a moment. His face had changed to one of a puppy’s, begging you to say yes.

“Taehyung I’m not sure, I have a certain schedule for tomorrow, I’m interviewing this band-”, you sighed but were caught off by him.

“Then take my number”, he said. Quickly as he said it, he grabbed your hand and pulled out a pen. You watched him laughing, as he hurriedly scribbled down his number.

“Promise you’ll text me”, Taehyung wined as he held up his pinky finger.

You rolled your eyes grinning like a dork, you couldn’t believe this boy. You interlocked his finger with yours. He smiled and placed a pair of black sunglasses on his face.

“See you soon, (Y/N)”, Taehyung winks at you while walking backwards to a black car.

You laughed and gave him a wave.

That night at dinner your head was filled with the image of the mysterious man. His figure and smell when he towered over you. You smiled to yourself at the thought of him. Were you actually going to text him?

“Are you listening (Y/N)?”

You put more effort into your outfit the next morning. Your company has asked you to interview a new boy group for them. You reluctantly agreed as you hated cameras. You left your apartment and made your way in a taxi.

Unfortunately, you underestimated the traffic in New York City. You looked at your watch to see you were 15 minutes late. You cursed to yourself as you exited the taxi practically running into the building.

You rushed passed a group of people and bashed open the studio door. “I’m here!”, you exclaimed catching your breath. You could see the man behind the camera roll his eyes at your powerful entrance.

“(Y/N), this is BTS”, the man says nodding his head towards the set.

You spun around to face the band. You let out a sheepish hello and held your hand out towards the members. You couldn’t help but admit they were very handsome. Finally, as you reach the last one you practically froze on the spot.

Your eyes travelled up from the familiar shirt and tie to the person’s face. The camera lights highlighted his bronze skin, just like how you remembered it. Your mouth dropped open as you meet his gaze.

“Hello again (Y/N)”, Taehyung smirked at you.

Author’s note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIM TAEHYUNG sorry for any grammar mistakes, I kind of rushed this one but if you want me to make a sequel let me know ;)

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deadlypressure · 4 years ago

Text

Some Wardrobe Ramblings and Self Image Struggles

I hate tight clothing. I hate the way it makes me feel about my body, I hate how it impedes my motion, I hate that I can’t wear anything tight/restrictive across my hips without massive pain from the waist down after 5 hours.

I like long, full skirts, I like the way they flow and make me feel elegant.

I like heavy denim/leather jackets and thick soled shoes, I like that they make me feel strong. Heels do this too, with more elegance. I like how light and quiet my feet are in converse and vans, I like how convenient they are. Same for flipflops. I like how cute my sparkly converse are, I wear them with men’s jeans and giggle at how confused some hyper detail-oriented super-cis would get at the combination.

I don’t like that I don’t have the patience for makeup and hair styling, I hate that I don’t know how to deal with either one. It makes me feel immature and kinda like I fail as an “adult” woman

I like how comfortable my men’s carpenter jeans and t-shirts are, I even kinda like how they look. I don’t like how immature it looks, I feel like I look like a 13 year old boy. It’s really bad with any kind of graphic t-shirt.

I like to pair my carpenters with tight-ish tank tops, I used to wear men’s undershirt tank tops, they looked good once I stretched them out just right. They were form fitting without being skin-tight, had an alt/punk look with my jeans and work boots, and were easy maintenance too. But I didn’t like the cultural connotations of the wife beater shirt. I haven’t found a suitable replacement yet, women’s shirts seem to all be made of that soft knit that pills after just so many washes.

I like to wear long sleeve button downs, like flannels and twill work shirts, as jackets. I buy them from the men’s department, the women’s shirts are always too small through the shoulders and bind and pull funny. Oddly enough, a size small, slim fit men’s button down will be more flattering and fit around my chest and hips better than a women’s size medium or large. It makes me smile to think about that. Sometimes I buy them grossly oversized, just for the aesthetic, but I also buy them so they fit as intended.

When I want to both wear pants and feel semi-formal, like date night or job interview appropriate, I feel like I have to wear tight pants. This is literally the only reason I keep women’s jeans anymore. I feel like dress pants are too formal for interviews or dates anymore, unless it’s extra important somehow, but loose jeans are too casual and skirts aren’t generally suggested when walking into an interview for a job in a traditionally masculine field that typically involves some amount of grime and lifting. Irritating, but not the point. I feel like tight jeans are the only step between loose jeans and dress pants in terms of formality in pants, and I hate it. Again, if I try to wear a button down with my loose men’s jeans, I feel like a 13 year old boy.

I like loose sweaters, they feel comfy and cozy. I pair them with my button downs and feel classy.

I like necklaces, long and short chains. I like to layer them, just two at a time. I like rings, I think they make my hands look longer and more elegant. I’d wear earrings, but my ear piercings are weird and wearing any kind of earring for any length of time makes my earlobes itch. I feel no need to get a nose ring, the upkeep seems like too much for an aesthetic choice I’m not terribly fond of, but I like the idea of getting gauges in my ear lobes. I like the look of the 5mm, just big enough to get some cool tunnel designs, small enough to conform to conservative looks with the right plugs. Stone plugs are cool.

I wish my eye brows were longer and fuller, that my chin was sharper. I like my eyelashes, I wish my lower lip weren’t quite so wide, sometimes I wish my lips weren’t so full. Sometimes my head seems too big, sometimes it seems too small. My eyes sometimes seem too small. I’ve finally embraced my long legs and thick thighs, they’re not double c thick, but they are by no means small. I don’t mind my foot size, they’re just big enough that I can sometimes get adult men’s shoes and can still wear some kid’s shoes

I can’t seem to get comfortable with my chest, it’s not that showing cleavage makes me uncomfortable anymore, except when I bend over, just the feeling of them. Bras are uncomfortable, even when they fit, I hate the tightness over my chest and shoulders. I don’t like the feeling of my boobs moving, though, and I don’t like to feel them resting against my chest wall. I don’t like the feeling of my stomach spilling over my waist band, I don’t like to see the double lump in the front of my shirt from it, and though in some lighting on some days it doesn’t bother me, I still hate to see it most days.

I used to get really uncomfortable and uneasy at the stares I got when I wore shorts or a lower cut top. There’s still some of that, but it’s pretty heavily diluted with irritation. If I’m wearing anything remotely empowering, odd, or alt, I might even feel slightly... Smug? I guess? Uhg, that sounds kinda gross in writing. Basically, it’s just me reveling in the attention I draw when I wear anything remotely odd or flattering, feeling powerful because I made a distinct impression on a stranger without hardly trying. It’s shallow and petty, but I can’t deny that I feel satisfaction in it.

I like to wear black, it makes me feel strong. I like to dress elegantly, and I wish I could do it more often, but it’s draining and feels like it takes so much effort just to wear the clothing, like it has to be for some specific reason or else it’s just not worth it. It’s kinda draining to wear virtually any feminine clothes anymore, even if it’s casual. I want to wear more green, I feel like wearing black too often makes me more irritable, like I need to wear more green, blue, or pink to take a break from the heightened aggressiveness that I get from wearing black. I like to wear green when I want to feel like a dryad. I wear pink because it’s a cute color that makes me happy and makes me feel cute. I wear blue when I’m not feeling hype enough for green or pink, and just want to be a mellow kind of positive. I have a lot of disparate styles of clothing and can’t commit to one specific aesthetic image. By far the most common, though, are a selection of aggressive, all black outfits of varying levels of formality with heavy alt influences, but are still largely purchased from mainstream providers. Uncommitted alt or noob alt, I guess you could call it.

I know that clothing has no gender. I know that wearing makeup or not, styling my hair or not, does not make me any more or less of an adult or a woman. I know that I shouldn’t care about other people’s opinions, that I shouldn’t live for them or dress for them or societal standards. That tight clothing means nothing. That clothing does not inform maturity, or make a personality. These are just weird, inescapable feelings I have towards myself, my body, and the clothing I put on it. Honestly, this is just me trying to sort out some of my gender issues and maybe force myself to take an honest look at my wardrobe choices. Verbalizing like this and shouting it out into cyber space helps in a way that talking it over with family or writing in journal just doesn’t seem to. It’s kinda all over the place and confusing, the language is kinda disjointed, but that’s just how disorganized my thoughts on all of this are.

I know that labels aren’t necessary, and that you can just like something without going so far as to associate yourself with the community attached to it, and that gender is a spectrum and that you can just say you’re unspecified and leave it at that, but I have literally no firm associations for myself. I’m white. I like the weird bouncy music that pays attention to clever word play that good kids shows like to use. It’s part of why I like Steam Powered Giraffe and Aurelio Voltaire. I like music that features layered instrumentals and complex vocals, rather than focusing on electronic sounds and a simple single lead and back up vocals. I require daily dosage of music with a heavy bass sound and strong beat, I like the older Disturbed albums. Deep voices make the serotonin go brrrrr. I’m not Judeo-Christian, and that has been a consistent source of ostracization for me. I don’t do the social well. I’m paranoid and have troubles getting out of bed or otherwise finding the motivation to perform simple tasks to fill basic needs, I get fixated on unsolvable problems. I have a nasty gossip habit and an unhealthy reliance on my mother for social interaction and validation, which are definitely connected. I am touch starved, I have always had to ask for prolonged physical contact. I’m terrified of vulnerability, and it prevents me from taking the chance of rejection to make friends or explore my sexuality. I have low self-esteem and often find myself using stupid, arbitrary things to make myself feel superior or victimized. I tend to sound like a snob when discussing my tastes in music and humor or my relationship with religion.

All of this, I know for a fact about myself, but nothing to connect myself to a larger positive culture. No social community to offer new avenues of interaction, if I have to move to another state, there’s no place I can go to reliably meet someone with some kind of common ground or shared experience. The only source of social interaction I get is family and work. This ties back into my gender issues, am I only questioning my initial assumptions about my sexuality and gender because there’s this enormous community out there that I could be a part of without even knowing it? Could relative mental stability be one teet-yeet away? One magical answer to all of my unsolvable immaterial mental issues? Would it be such a consistent gnawing concern if I were the societal norm, or is it just my indisputable anxiety taking hold of an untrue thought and refusing to let go of it? Yeah, my brain is a mess, and I need a therapist to work through this with me, rather than just smearing my emotional waste all over the internet. At least the tag based system means no one will ever find this.

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heavyarethecrowns · 7 years ago

Text

WILLIAM AND KATE’S FIVE YEAR ANNIVERSARY

LOVE, LOLA ♥ MUSINGS ABOUT LIFE, LOVE, BEAUTY & ROYALTY

APRIL 29, 2016

Five years ago, Kate Middleton entered Westminster Abbey and emerged Her Royal Highness The Duchess of Cambridge, Countess of Strathearn and Lady Carrickfergus. After a near decade-long wait to become Mrs. Prince William, the woman who had been referred to in the press as Waity Katie, The Mattress, Her Royal Thighness and the Royal Doormat was repackaged as a perfect fairytale princess.

The royal love story was respun to sound a bit less stalkery. In “Kate, The Future Queen”, Katie Nicholls revealed that in order to increase her chances of becoming Mrs. Prince William, the Edinburgh-bound Kate decided to take a gap year and applied to be in Prince William’s class at St. Andrews. William and Kate’s first meeting wasn’t even at St. Andrews, in the summer 1999 they were introduced by Emilia d’Erlanger at “Club H” at Highgrove, but Kate failed to make an impression on William. Three years later, a sheer dress Kate wore at a charity fashion show finally did the trick.

In their eight years of dating before the engagement announcement, Kate reportedly found herself cast aside for Jecca Craig at William’s 21st birthday party, in 2004 before exams, Kate was dumped for “more space” which then took the form of Jecca Craig, in 2005 Kate was briefly replaced by Isabella Calthorpe who decided the princess life wasn’t for her, and in April 2007 William broke up with Kate for a couple of months, infamously jumping up on a table after dumping her via cell phone, shouting, “I’m free!” And yet, Kate still wanted to marry Prince William.

Kate’s wedding prep focused on the physical. In addition to having her teeth fixed and extensive beauty treatments, Kate lost so much weight that at an engagement in Ireland before the wedding, a woman expressed concern Kate was becoming too thin. Kate replied, “It’s all part of the plan!” The Palace Press Office tried to keep Kate’s comment contained, noting, “It’s a hugely private matter.” It’s too bad Kate’s plan didn’t also include preparing for her new duties.

By all accounts, Kate was calm and composed before the wedding. According to Marina Sandoval who did Kate’s manicure for the wedding, “She didn’t display an ounce of nerves. She was just happy that the day was here at last.” Her hair stylist Richard Ward noted, “She has been remarkably relaxed from the start… Everyone else was nervous, but not Kate. She just took it all in her stride and was calming everyone else down.”

There were no pre-wedding jitters or obvious nerves getting married in front of 1,900 guests and millions watching around the world. Waity Katie who had been dubbed “Princess-in-Waiting” at Marlborough appeared triumphant about waitying no more.

Kate wore a classically pretty but somewhat underwhelming wedding dress by Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen, her wedding veil was so flat, it looked like she was wearing a stocking over her face to knock over a liquor store and the makeup which Kate did herself reminded me of the similarly heavy-handed application of a transvestite hooker who once told me that my outfit was fierce.

The 20 foot maple trees that decorated Westminster Abbey in hindsight feel like a prelude to the massive amount of privacy trees planted at Anmer Hall but at the time they just seemed ridiculous. Kate filled the abbey with British flora, her Language of Flowers vision reportedly cost £50,000.

When Kate said “I do”, she became an official representative of the UK and the monarchy, a job she appears to have had no intention of doing.

In the engagement interview, Kate stated, “I’m willing to learn quickly and work hard,” and yet in her five years since becoming a duchess, Kate has only delivered 8 short shaky speeches, gone on four royal tours and has undertaken a combined 390 engagements to date, a grand total for five years on par with what the 90-year-old Queen averages in one year (in 2014, the Queen undertook 393 engagements).

Ahead of the five year royal wedding anniversary, Ingrid Seward, editor-in-chief of Majesty magazine suggested that Kate’s dismal efforts are born from a fear she’s going to screw up royally. Seward who must be suffering from amnesia noted, “She hasn’t made any mistakes, which is extraordinary when you think of how difficult it is for her. I suppose the only mistake she’s made is that she’s probably seen not always as particularly interesting but I think she’s absolutely terrified of not doing it right.”

Really, Kate’s only short-coming is that she’s dull? Just off the top of my head, Kate’s event totals are so dismally low, last year she only accounted for 1.66% of the royal family’s workload. She’s been criticized for frequent luxury holidays, selecting more glamorous events like film premieres, Wimbledon, galas, wine tastings and ignoring ones that don’t seem to interest her, like those involving her charities that aren’t connected to Ben Ainslie. Kate’s Received Pronunciation affectation has inhibited her ability to deliver the few brief speeches she’s attempted, causing her to mispronounce the name of the charity in one and struggle with words like “palliative” in others. The occasional comments she makes at events lack substance but still are dutifully reported by the press because she offers nothing else of substance. Actual Kate official event quotes include: “And can it… can you… um… test the… the smell by smelling it?”; “It’s very shiny.”; “Oh it’s actually not bad if you were desperately hungry.”; “I like your hair.”; “I like your nails.”; “No! Oh no, is that me? Is that meant to be me? Does my hair really look like that!” (in response to a doll a girl was holding); “Oh, I know now who you are. Although it’s very strange… now you have got facial hair. Some of the people who had facial hair in the film don’t have facial hair now.” (in speaking to actor Tom Hiddleston); and most recently, when told of street children being mutilated to make money begging, she responded, “Gosh, so interesting.”

In her five years since joining the royal family, Kate has offended many by smiling, laughing, and playing with her hair during balcony appearances on Remembrance Sunday, sparking outrage in 2013 as she dreamily gazed off in the distance while twirling her hair during the solemn event. Kate being a professed hands-on mother has been offered as the reason Kate puts in the fewest event totals each year in the British Royal Family and yet Prince George is most frequently papped with his nanny. When George was seven months old, Kate had no trouble leaving him behind while she took a Maldives escape (her second luxury holiday in two months) with Prince William while her mother oversaw the shift in his care from Nanny Jessie Webb to Nanny Maria. During the Cambridge’s controversial family ski get-away earlier this year, both Prince George and Princess Charlotte were left to the care of nannies while Kate and William took to the slopes because their children are obviously too young to ski yet. Five years into being a duchess and Kate has had wardrobe malfunctions in the double digits and the Royal Flasher still has yet to undertake one single official tour without exposing herself while acting as an official representative of the United Kingdom and the British Monarchy. That doesn’t sound like the actions of a “terrified” Kate.

As it turns out, there was another wardrobe malfunction in India on the final day of the royal tour. My brain was frozen over with boredom by then and I missed it, so this is brought to you by royal watcher, Julie RocketQueen. Apparently when Kate and William were recreating the iconic Princess Diana photo at the Taj Mahal, Kate flashed her undies.

Kate’s panties were white with a four-petal flower design. My apologies for the pixelation, but I don’t feel like hunting down a high resolution image since the pattern of the panties is visible in this pic, the flower’s outline appears to be dark blue with marigold centers.

So maybe this second wardrobe malfunction is actually encouraging. After five years of duchessing, the future Queen Consort is now finally wearing underwear.

Love , Lola

SUBMITTED

#duke of cambridge #prince william #duchess of cambridge #kate middleton #article #submission

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bongaboi · 5 years ago

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Navy: 2019 Liberty Bowl Champions

As usual, the spotlight was on quarterback Malcolm Perry and the Navy offense following the AutoZone Liberty Bowl.

Perry set a Navy bowl game record by rushing for 213 yards, while wide receiver Chance Warren was on the back end of a couple critical gadget plays as Navy’s offense did just enough to squeak out a 20-17 victory over Kansas State on Tuesday at Liberty Bowl Memorial Stadium.

Almost all the questions during the post-game press conference were about offense. Perry, the Liberty Bowl Most Valuable Player, was quite naturally the focal point following yet another spectacular performance.

How does it feel to set the Football Bowl Subdivision single season record for rushing yards by a quarterback? Perry finished his incredible 2019 campaign with 2,017 rushing yards, breaking the mark established by Jordan Lynch of Northern Illinois (1,920 yards in 2013).

“My reaction to the rushing record is that I still can’t believe it,” Perry said. “At the same time, I know the guys up front — the offensive line, the slotbacks and the wide receivers — blocked their butts off all season. This is a testament to how hard they worked all season.”

Perry’s breakaway running ability was needed against a tough, physical defense that made the Midshipmen earn every yard. The 5-foot-9, 185-pound speedster set up an early field goal with a 25-yard run off an option keeper, put his team in position for its first touchdown with a 23-yard gain on fourth-and-one and jump-started the second touchdown drive by scrambling 29 yards into enemy territory.

Perry also made a terrific throw to slotback Keoni-Kordell Makekau on a seam route for a 27-yard touchdown. The senior standout later broke loose for a 59-yard run that gave Navy a chance to take a two-score lead midway through the fourth quarter, but kicker Bijan Nichols missed a 38-yard field goal.

Those plays, along with Warren’s 20-yard scoring scamper off a reverse and 41-yard reception off a slotback option, accounted for the bulk of Navy’s 421 total yards.

Take away the big plays and it was tough sledding against Kansas State, which switched back-and-forth between an eight-man front and the 46 defense that is commonly referred to as the “Bear” alignment. Middle linebacker Elijah Sullivan (11 tackles), weak-side linebacker Da’Quan Patton and free safety Denzel Goolsby (eight tackles apiece) spearheaded a hard-hitting outfit that was well-prepared for the triple-option by defensive coordinator Scottie Hazelton.

“I’ll be honest with you, I thought our defense played really well. We had assignment-sound football,” Kansas State head coach Chris Klieman said. “If you were to ask Coach [Ken] Niumatalolo that two of the plays they would score on would be trick plays, I think he would be surprised, too.”

Navy (11-2) probably prepared for a 4-4 alignment with the safety following tail motion because that is what Hazelton employed against Air Force while at Wyoming. Niumatalolo said afterward the offensive staff had a plan for an eight-man front since Kansas State had shown that on tape.

“We weren’t ready for their odd front — the Bear look with the X stack similar to what Houston had done to us. It took us some time to see what they were doing and see how to attack it,” Niumatalolo said. “They’re a good team with a good staff and they had a good option plan.”

Defense stood tall

Here is the bottom line: When you score 20 points and win you should be thanking your defense. Especially when the opponent scored a special teams’ touchdown.

Inside linebacker Diego Fagot recorded seven solo tackles and two sacks to spearhead the Navy defense, which limited Kansas State to 170 yards of total offense. Inside linebacker Paul Carothers notched six tackles for the Midshipmen, who held the Wildcats to just 46 rushing yards — 143 below their season average.

Niumatalolo tried his best to give credit to the defense during the post-game press conference, interjecting comments about that unit into answers about Perry or the offense.

“I love the way our defense played. They kept us in the game,” Niumatalolo said. “To hold [Kansas State] to that amount of rushing yards is tremendous. Our defense played phenomenal the whole time.”

Navy’s defense was nothing short of lights out, throttling talented quarterback Skylar Thompson and an offense that came in averaging 30 points and 375 total yards. The Wildcats want to play smash-mouth football, using a power running game to set up play-action pass.

First-year defensive coordinator Brian Newberry knew Navy needed to stop the run, first and foremost.

“Absolutely. K-State has a big, physical offensive line. It’s an experienced group with 60 starts up front. Everything starts with run game for that offense,” Newberry told The Capital during a telephone interview on Wednesday morning. “I felt if we could stop the run and keep everything in front of us as far as the play-action pass we would have a chance.”

Kansas State offensive coordinator Courtney Messingham looked to establish the run on the game’s opening possession and saw some success. Tailback James Gilbert gained eight yards up the middle on second down and two plays later ripped off a 14-yard run. A false start penalty was a setback, but Gilbert got the Wildcats back on schedule with a 9-yard run.

However, Navy bowed its neck after being pushed into its own territory. Fagot stopped tailback Harry Trotter for a 2-yard gain on third-and-six. Kansas State went for it on fourth-and-four and Navy dodged a bullet when wide receiver Phillip Brooks dropped what would have been a sure touchdown pass.

Kansas State would manage only two other sustained drives the rest of the way. It was a low-possession game as advertised and the Wildcats could not afford to come up empty so often when they only got six true possessions. (Two other possessions do not really count as K-State ran one play on the final series of the first half before time expired and one play on the final series of the game.)

An extremely methodical 13-play, 49-yard march that took almost six minutes off the clock ended with a 39-yard field goal by Blake Lynch that tied the score 10-10 with 2:27 remaining in the first half. Considering how long it was on the field, that was a win for the Navy defense.

Fagot sacked Thompson on third down, while rover safety Elan Nash pressured the quarterback into an errant throw on third down to force the field goal after Kansas State had reached the Navy 18-yard line.

Kansas State’s lone touchdown drive came late in the fourth quarter and tied the score 17-17 with 5:14 remaining. It was the only possession of the entire game in which Thompson got into any sort of throwing rhythm, completing three passes for 75 yards. Wykeen Gill got behind the defense on a post route and Thompson tossed a beautiful ball that hit the wide receiver in stride on his way into the end zone.

Take away that drive and Thompson completed 7 of 11 passes for 49 yards, repeatedly settling for underneath or check down routes.

“I knew we might have a chance if we made the quarterback go to his second and third reads,” Newberry said. “On third down, we showed some different looks and did some things to roll the coverage to try to confuse him.”

Those tactics clearly worked with Thompson saying as much following the game.

“It was different. They did have us out of rhythm,” Thompson admitted. “It’s hard. They did a great job. Hat’s off to them. They had a good game-plan for us. We knew they were a high-pressure team. They did a good job of mixing up their looks, showing from one way and coming from the other way and playing some different looks that I wasn’t really expecting. It just got us off rhythm.”

Klieman seconded that assessment: “Their defense did a nice job of keeping us out of rhythm a little bit,” he said.

Fagot, Pittman lead way

Fagot, who was deservedly voted Defensive Most Valuable Player for Navy, was not surprised when those comments were relayed to him during the post-game press conference.

“I think we played very well on defense. Coach Newberry and all the other defensive coaches prepared us really well for this game,” Fagot said. “We could tell we were confusing [the quarterback] a little bit with our dime packages and the way we were disguising some of our blitzes and coverages. I think we played very well and did our part to help the team win.”

Navy’s outstanding run defense started up front with nose guard Jackson Pittman, who followed a dominant performance against Army with another outstanding effort. The 6-foot-3, 300-pound senior could not be budged by center Adam Holtorf (6-4, 302) with help from guards Evan Curl (6-5, 295) and Tyler Mitchell (6-5, 317).

“Pittman has done a great job all year. He can take on a double-team and not get moved,” Newberry said. “He was doing a good job of holding the point of attack.”

Sophomore tackle J’arius Warren helped plug the middle and made three tackles, while end Jackson Perkins came through with a huge sack on third down.

“Warren holds his own at 260 pounds inside. Jackson was battling as well. All those guys up front did a good job,” Newberry said.

Newberry’s scheme is predicated on being unpredictable and designed to look complicated to the offense. Navy’s defensive players were constantly moving from one spot to another to make it difficult for Thompson to identify who was doing what on a given play.

“We had to stunt and shift as much as possible. We could not play static and take on double-teams. We moved a lot pre-snap and post-snap,” Newberry said. “I think we caused some problems. They had trouble executing.”

Fagot has been the centerpiece of the defense from the day Newberry arrived from Kennesaw State and proved up to the challenge. The 6-foot-3, 240-pound sophomore finished the season with 100 tackles, 12 tackles for loss, 5 ½ sacks and seven quarterback hurries.

“I think Diego is a special player and he’s been good for us all year. We asked a lot of Diego and he responded,” Newberry said.

“Most people don’t realize that Diego has been banged up most of the season. He hasn’t been 100 percent for a while,” Newberry added. “He did not practice the first week for the bowl game because his ankle was so swollen from the Army game. It’s just a testament to character and toughness that he went and played so well against K-State.”

This year’s AutoZone Liberty Bowl was a rock ‘em, sock ‘em affair with both teams intent on being tough and physical. Kansas State thought it could intimidate Navy by delivering some punishing hits, especially early on. Slotback Myles Fells sent a strong message the Midshipmen would dish out plenty of punishment of their own by absolutely destroying strong safety Wayne Jones — lowering a shoulder and sending the defender flying.

“I thought we out-physicaled them on both sides of the football, to be honest,” Newberry said. “I wasn’t sure we could do that. K-State made a living in the Big 12 by being more physical than its opponents."

Newberry was asked if he could have ever imagined holding Kansas State to 10 offensive points and 170 total yards.

“I knew we had to play really, really well just to contain them. That’s a very good offensive football team that scored 48 points against Oklahoma,” Newberry said. “Obviously, our players rose to the occasion and gave a great, great effort.”

It was the latest defensive masterpiece designed by Newberry, whose hiring was instrumental in Navy bouncing back from a 3-10 record in 2018. Niumatalolo has stated numerous times that Malcolm Perry and Brian Newberry are the main reasons why the Midshipmen (11-2) put together one of the greatest turnaround seasons in FBS history.

Navy’s massive across-the-board improvement in every key statistical category was nothing short of remarkable. The Midshipmen finished the season ranked 16th nationally in total defense (314.2 total yards allowed) and No. 34 in scoring defense (average of 22.3 points given up).

“I was really happy that we finished strong. The way we played the last two weeks was impressive,” Newberry said. “We fell off a little bit in the second half against Tulane and against Notre Dame and SMU. It was good to see us bounce back against Army and Kansas State.”

#2019 #liberty bowl #bowl season #college football #navy midshipmen

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beauticate · 6 years ago

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Magdalena Roze, Journalist

If you’re anything like us, one look at Magdalena Roze’s radiant complexion, and you’ll be desperate for her to spill the secrets to her signature glow. And good news: the journalist, podcast host, and mother-of-two has turned her talented hand to cookbook writing, with her new release detailing recipes to help get some of that very glow. We chatted to Magdalena about her wholesome (but delicious) day on a plate, her go-to beauty addresses in Byron Bay and Sydney, and why she won’t say no to some old-fashioned, homemade cake.

“I always knew that I wanted to work in the media, so when I left high school I was at a bit of a crossroads where it was a choice between acting or journalism.

I'd been acting and doing theatre since I was a kid and had a lot of friends that went to NIDA, so that path seemed obvious in many ways. But I was also drawn to writing and storytelling in a more journalistic capacity, and the opportunity to travel, experience amazing things and interview interesting people. So I chose the latter and was awarded a scholarship to study Media and Communications at the University of Sydney. In my final year, I did an internship at Channel Nine and at the end of it they offered me a job. The rest is history!

With my job, I love that no day is the same and that I'm constantly learning, meeting interesting (and often extraordinary) people and experiencing new things.

It’s changed a lot since I’ve transitioned from exclusively working in television towards a more digital and project based career, but while it wasn’t something I planned, it’s been a blessing to have more flexibility, autonomy and creativity - especially with a young family. One day I’m testing recipes for my cookbooks and another I could be recording my food podcast The Pass, hosting Nigella Lawson or doing a shoot for a brand I love. It keeps me very inspired and fulfilled, but most importantly, it still affords me the opportunity to live in Byron Bay and be with my kids, and for that I'm extremely grateful.

My personal style has changed a lot since moving to Byron Bay and becoming a mum.

It’s definitely more relaxed, but I still love glamming up for a red carpet. I tend to adapt to my surroundings, so when I’m at home in Byron, I pretty much live in linen, flowy, dresses, swimsuits and sandals. There’s a lot of white and neutrals, which is crazy with two messy babies! My staple designers are My General Store, Estilo Emporio, and Spell when I want to go a bit more boho. St Agni are my go-to for leather sandals. My favourites for basic pieces like t-shirts are Jac and Jack and Bassike, and pretty much all my knitwear is from First Born which is all handmade and fairtrade. When we travel I switch it up and tend to wear more black and tailored pieces, and my red carpet style can be really varied depending on my mood and the event. I actually really love putting the whole outfit together, from heels to makeup and accessories. Some of my favourite Aussie designers are Zimmermann, Scanlan Theodore and Toni Maticevski, and I love Christie Nicolaides earrings. They're real statement pieces and always make the outfit.

My beauty routine is way more low maintenance in Byron - which is convenient being a mum of two as I’m lucky if I have 5 minutes to get myself ready!

Unless I'm doing a shoot or hosting an event, most of my days involve little or no makeup at all and like to stick to the more natural based products, especially when it comes to skincare. This actually came out of necessity a few years ago when I was working long hours and wearing heavy makeup on TV every day. My skin really suffered and I started breaking out in rashes that wouldn't go away. I couldn’t control the makeup part but I realised that I could use much more lowtox products on my skin, so I made my own completely natural toner, moisturiser and eye cream and my skin literally cleared up in a day. I'm sure it wasn’t just the products - things like stress and hormones have a lot to do with it too - but I've been using simple and natural based skincare ever since. Becoming pregnant with Archie four years ago was another incentive to use cleaner products, plus for some reason I became really sensitive to the smell of certain fragrances and chemicals. I'm definitely not a total purist, especially when it comes to makeup, but there are so many great natural products out there now that it’s easy to do.

I very much believe in a gentle, non-abrasive approach as well as the powerful role of wholefoods in attaining glowing and strong skin, hair and nails. I swear by good fats like bone broth for this as it’s literally packed with collagen, as well as adding ghee, coconut oil and hemp oil to my meals. It’s boring but drinking lots of filtered water probably makes the biggest difference to plump, hydrated skin.

I cleanse my skin with Sodashi Clay Cleanser with lime which is gentle and nourishing, followed by a spritz of Oil Garden Rose Floral Water.

I moisturise with Sodashi Rejuvenating Face and Neck Moisturiser or sometimes just a few drops of Oil Garden Rose Hip Oil. Dr Hauschka Rose Day Cream is also a favourite during the cooler months as it’s quite rich. Then I fill in my brows with Hourglass Arch Brow Sculpting Pencil and dab some NARS Radiant Cream Concealer under my eyes to hide the mumbags! I usually leave it at that but if I have a meeting or want an extra lift, I love LUMA Just A Touch Lip and Cheek Tint in Signorita for a dewy natural flush on my apples and it really is the perfect natural lip colour. I'll also dab a bit of the LUMA Illuminating Highlighter in Golden Glow on my cheekbones. I like to have really clean skin before I go to bed, especially if I've been working and have makeup on, so I use some sort of oil like coconut oil or African Botanics Pure Marula Cleansing Oil to remove the first layer of makeup, sunscreen and impurities. It smells so good! Then I cleanse with something foaming like Chantecaille Rice and Geranium Foaming Cleanser (which is 80% natural) as the gentle exfoliating beads of rice bran give a thorough clean and I can use it to remove eye makeup too. I follow this with my Oil Garden spritz and Sodashi moisturiser. I really like trying new products and I’m always on the lookout for something natural and amazing, so I tend to mix it up every few months.

I use natural essential oil based soaps handmade by my friends Church Farm General Store in Byron Bay and they're gentle enough to use on the kids too. Because I spend a lot of time at the beach with sunscreen, I like to give my body a good scrub regularly with Mukti Organics Bioactive Body Polish. It leaves my skin feeing so smooth and nourished, and smells heavenly. For both of my pregnancies and in the months after, I massaged Weleda Stretch Mark Oil on my belly which has worked wonders. I like to treat myself to a hot bath now again with epsom salts and a few drops of Oil Garden Relax & Unwind Silk Bath Oil which feels and smells divine.

In the day and most of the time, my beauty look is natural, fresh and feminine. But if I'm going out to an event, I love to glam it up.

In terms of celebs, I like Gwyneth Paltrow's pared back beauty and Blake Lively’s red carpet glam. For nights out, I use Giorgio Armani Luminous Silk foundation. I’ve been using it since the TV days as it’s light enough for a daytime look and yet you can build on it in the evening. When I want glowy skin, l use LUMA Liquid Light Illuminating Primer underneath. I swear by NARS Bronzing Powder in Laguna for contouring and that sun-kissed look, and NARS Blush in Orgasm. If I’m getting my makeup professionally done, I find that adding a few individual lashes to the eyes make a huge difference. And I think that having a good quality set of makeup brushes is essential.

I have long, thick, coloured hair so my hair needs plenty of moisture.

I'm yet to find a great natural shampoo so if anyone has any tips, let me know! I’ve always used Kérastase but my hairdresser recently put me on to Iles Formula shampoo, conditioner and Finishing Serum and love it. It’s super light and makes my hair feel super soft and silky. It actually does what it says on the bottle and the packaging is really nice and sleek too. When my hair is particularly dry, I’ll often add a heap of coconut oil in it and slick it back in a bun all day before washing it at night, and I always add serum to the ends after a blowdry or tonging. Speak of which, a thick tong is the best tool for achieving a beachy wave in minutes.

My top tip for healthy hair is to do as little as possible to it. When I worked in TV, I used to have to wear hairpieces to make up for all the breakage from constant teasing and hairspray. Since moving to Byron, my hair is thicker than all the pieces put together! I credit this to leaving it alone and eating a lot of good fats.

My mum has amazing skin and she’s always taken good care of it.

She encouraged my sister and I to do the same using quality products. While she’s far from high maintenance, she’s always told us to make an effort when we leave the house. I’ve always been interested in makeup and beauty, most probably influenced by my older sister and mum so I was quite diligent about cleansing, moisturising and wearing sunscreen from an early age. This seemed to be more of a priority than makeup.

But the main thing both of my parents constantly told us is not to stress and stand up straight, because no amount of makeup can fix that.

When I'm in Sydney I see Jocelyn Petroni at The Facial Room.

I've been going to her for years and everything about her treatments - her beautiful, calming salon, the massages, and reiki - is on another level. She was the first to introduce me to Omnilux, a 20 minute non-invasive light treatment that gives skin a radiance. She’s all about bringing out one’s inner glow and I feel like that’s the key to true beauty. Her facials are heavenly!

I’ve been getting my brows done with Kristin Fisher in Sydney since back in the day when she had a tiny room at a Paddington gym , while my makeup artist Ashlea Penfold does the most gorgeous glowy, beachy, goddess makeup. In Byron Bay, I get my facials at A Little Company which is a gorgeous serene space like something out of Kinfolk magazine, and Aleshia Marie in Bangalow. For haircuts, colours and blowdries I go to Edwards and Co in Surry Hills and Byron Bay. The stylists are always amazing and I relish the time to myself to read the latest fashion and creative magazines and drink coffee without kids pulling me in every direction. Gaia Retreat & Spa in Byron Bay is a special, peaceful retreat that I like to go to with my mama friends to unwind and get a massage.

I've never had a regime when it comes to exercise, and it’s only now a few months after my second baby that I feel ready to be active again.

So I’ve started with some gentle, restorative yoga which I do a couple of times a week at home with my teacher, Brooklyn, and we build the intensity as I get stronger. It’s impossible for me to drive to a class while still breastfeeding so having her come to me is a godsend and the highlight of the week. If I can grab 30 minutes at the end of the day, I love a jog on the beach or quick standup paddle on the river. Other than that, most of my training is carrying Charlie and running after Archie.

While supplements definitely have their place, like magnesium to help with sleep and muscle tension, day to day I try and get the bulk of my nutrients from eating real wholefoods as I feel that their much more bioavailable. So for skin, hair and nails, there’s nothing better for me than bone broth, ghee, coconut and hemp oil. There’s a locally made honey here called Vallentine’s which is twice as strong as manuka and great for wound healing.

For relaxation, yoga is my go-to as it ticks all the boxes in terms of nourishing the mind, body and soul.

When we had our second baby, Charlie, Darren (Ed’s note: Magdalena’s partner) and I negotiated two mornings every week where we get to do whatever makes us happy while the other takes the kids, to maintain some sanity amongst the chaos. So mine is yoga. It’s gentle yet strengthening, and so good for my energy and emotional state. We live between the river and the ocean, so I also love standup paddle. There are few things more peaceful and relaxing than gliding along the water in my straw hat with my own thoughts - such a luxury. Sometimes I don’t see a soul for half an hour, just fish and stingrays.

I’ve fallen in love with reading again while breastfeeding Charlie and if the kids are asleep or with my mum, and I really enjoy cooking and coming up with recipes in my own time. When the kids a bit bigger, I look forward to doing the Byron Bay lighthouse walk early in the morning again. It’s such a beautiful way to start the day, followed by a beach, swim and coffee. And I love my Oil Garden essential oils. I use them everyday as a mood lifting fragrance and in the diffuser.

When we made the sea change to Byron Bay to open Three Blue Ducks on The Farm, I started a blog sharing my favourite wholefood recipes and tips for living a more natural life.

It started off as a bit of a hobby as I was really inspired by the lifestyle and approaches to food and wellness here - there is such a strong connection to food. We’re surrounded by lush farms and passionate producers, and shopping at the farmer's markets and eating with the seasons is a way of life. I was learning so much from a lot of really amazing people so I wanted to share it with others. It really took off so I was approached by a publisher to turn it into a book, which became Happy & Whole.

Cook, eat and enjoy real food.

We absolutely love it, it’s our life and livelihood at Three Blue Ducks. There are so many different diets and lifestyles all claiming to be the best or the healthiest, that it can be very difficult working out what to eat - so for me it’s about keeping it simple and getting back to basics. By this, I mean eating wholefoods that are unprocessed, grown without the use of sprays and chemicals and areas close to their natural source as possible. And cooking the way our grandmothers or great-grandmothers used too - things like pickling, fermenting and slow cooking to bring out the maximum flavour and nutritional value of an ingredient (and it’s much cheaper than superfoods!).

I also don’t see any particular food as good or bad. Sure, cakes and marshmallows aren't as nutrient-rich as a bowl of chicken broth, but they are sometimes foods and, for me, perfectly fine on occasion, especially if they’re made with real, whole ingredients. Sometimes, a lovely piece of cake is the only thing that hits the spot on a rainy afternoon with a cup of tea. Same as morning coffee and a glass of red wine - mother’s tonic! It’s about listening to your body and eating foods that work for you.

My days on a plate can be quite different depending on what work commitments I have on.

But when but when I’m not travelling or doing something like a photo shoot or podcast recording, I wake up when the kids wake which is usually about 6am. I make a cup of peppermint tea and then breakfast which is usually porridge with almond butter, a little cinnamon and apple or banana. Darren, the kids and I then go to one of our local cafes for a flat white and do the crossword. It’s super nerdy but it’s our morning ritual before work begins at 9am.

If I'm at home, lunch depends on what we've picked up at the farmer's market or what's in season, but I cook for myself and Archie so it might be something like spelt pasta with pesto, feta and greens like broccoli and zucchini. Sometimes I might cook the pasta or veggies in bone broth and then we drink the rest.

In the afternoon, I'll often bake something with Archie, which doubles up as entertainment and an afternoon treat. Most of what I make is wholesome but I don’t mind an old-fashioned homemade cake now and then, especially if it’s made with beautiful butter and eggs. It’s good for the soul and I really crave something sweet when I’m breastfeeding so I don’t fight it. I use this as a chance to test recipes too, and put on a slow cooked dinner like a wild rice and chicken pilaf or stew. It’s super easy to prepare and I just let it go for a few hours and then it’s ready. Once the kids are asleep, I love a glass of red wine or chamomile tea while Darren and I unwind and catch up on the day.

Throughout the day, I’ll snack on everything from cheese to blueberries to homemade chocolate (which is actually super easy, the recipe is in my book). Sometimes it’s a smoothie, other times it’s fresh sourdough and butter, and both feel just as nourishing.

Embrace ageing.

It’s a beautiful thing and something I’m surprisingly at peace with. As long as I’m healthy and happy, I really don’t have a problem with a few laugh lines. And I hope that ‘filters’ and heavily doctored images of unattainable ‘beauty’ that many young people are being bombarded with on social media are a passing phase, and society will once again embrace the raw and real - because there is nothing more beautiful.”

Story by Tess Schlink. Photography by Rob Palmer. Images from Happy & Whole, supplied courtesy of Plum

#Magdalena Roze

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crazyblondelife · 7 years ago

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Spiritual (Midlife) Fashionista, Susan Kanoff of Uncommon Threads

If you've been reading my blog, you know that I recently went to New York for a meet-up with some amazing women from the Forever Fierce Revolution. While I was there, I had a conversation with Susan Kanoff who was also part of the group. During our conversation, Susan told me some of her story, including sharing about her non-profit, Uncommon Threads and her blog, The Midlife Fashionista. I knew then that Susan was a very special person and I wanted to get to know her better. I decided to ask her if she was willing to be interviewed for my blog and she graciously agreed! This prompted me to start of a series of interviews on Crazy Blonde Life, called Spiritual Fashionistas. Susan Kanoff is my first interview and she definitely qualifies as a Spiritual (Midlife) Fashionista!

What exactly does Uncommon Threads do?

Uncommon Threads is an empowerment program for struggling women. We use clothes and style as tools for buildeing self-esteem and self-confidence...it's an outside-in and inside-out approach to empowering women! Our clients are all referred by social service professionals and incude domestic violence survivors, female veterans, disabled women, cancer patients and women in recovery. our goal is to make every woman who walks through the door of the boutique feel beautiful, confident and worthy.

Uncommon Threads doesn't look like a typical "clothing program"...it's a beautiful little boutique complete with gorgeous displays, quality clothing and even a dressing room. We treat our clients with dignity and respect and provide them with an "oasis" from life stresses and struggles.

Each client gets an individual styling session with our volunteer stylists and receives up to four complete outfits suitable for her needs and lifestyle. Although some of our clients are working (or interviewing), others may never be able to work due to trauma or disabilities. We can dress a woman for a job, a special event, or for every day! We ask for a $10 donation because the act of paying is empowering in itself, however we will never turn a client away if she cannot afford it. We rely on social workers to let us know if the fee is affordable. We encourage our clients to return seasonally or as a need arises as long as they are referred by a social worker.

We are all about self-esteem building. For when a woman feels good about herself, she can conquer the world. We also believe that by lifting women up, we are positively impacting our community. A confident woman is more apt to pursue a job or educational opportunities and is a strong role model to her children.

Uncommon Threads has only been open for a little over a year, but we've already styled over 400 women! The need is so great, as Lawrence, Massachusetts is one of the poorest cities in the country. In the first six months we were featured in both local and national press incuding Woman's World Magazine, The Boston Globe, and the Boston news (the segment went national!). We've already expanded to offer a "Women's Empowerment Center" where we hold self-esteem focused groups and workshops. Our vision is to provide mentoring, stress management services and health and wellness education.

What inspired you to start Uncommon Threads?

The program actually started out of my social work office several years ago when I was balancing two very different careers. For over 20 years, I ran a federal social service program that moved low-income families out of poverty (I worked mostly with single moms). About ten years ago, I started a wardrobe styling business as a fun "side job". When my private clients were looking to donate their clothes, I offered to pass them on to my social work clients. In addition to counseling, my clients received new outfits along with my styling guidance! It made a huge difference for these women, as most were not able to afford nice clothes for themselves. I also noticed how the clothes boosted their self-esteem and self-confidence.

Eventually, my office became a working closet (it was a mess!) and it was apparent that I needed to start a real program. A little over a year ago, Uncommon Threads was born and I retired from my social work job. It's been a leap into the unknown (a bit scary - no terrifying!), but it's been worth the roller coaster ride. I feel like I'm doing what I was meant to do - my job is incredibly rewarding.

I should also mention that I am a style blogger. My blog, The Midlife Fashionista, has been instrumental to the program through my connections in the fashion world. We receive regular donations of clothing and shoes from amazing companies such as Aventura, Lynn Ritchie, Leota, Soft Surroundings, Yala, Patricia Green Shoes, and most recently Chico's! The boutique is stocked with a mix of brand new items donated by companies, as well as new and gently worn pieces donated from our wonderful community.

My crazy mix of careers actually works!!

Who does Uncommon Threads serve?

We serve low-income women referred by health professionals, therapists, social workers or clergy. Clients must have a referral to get an appointment. Our clients include women who are domestic violence survivors, veterans, disabled, cancer patients, homeless and those in recovery.

What has been your proudest moment so far?

I think it was when I finally realized that my dream to start Uncommon Threads was actually becoming a reality! To SEE my vision take shape and morph into a successful program has been mind-blowing. But honestly, it never could have happened without the help of a village of kind and caring women. Between our amazing volunteers, my wonderful board, and our donors, Uncommon Threads has truly been a community effort.

How many physical spaces do you have?

Well, we started with one room and since (in a little over a year) we now have a cluster of three! One room is for the "boutique" where we see clients, one is to sort donations, and the newest is now a consignment shop called Uncommon Closet, where the public can shop high-end pieces, all to benefit the program. The goal is for the shop to pay the rent each month! We are grateful to the community and local stores for donations.

How can people volunteer or get involved?

Our biggest need right now is funding to keep the program going and growing. Funding is essential to the program's success and will help us serve even more women in need. If you wish, you can donate here.

We have an amazing team of volunteers, but we can always use more We have all types of opportunities from helping at events to key roles like grant writing or fundraising. Volunteers can even work remotely!

We need clothes, shoes, jewelry and bags for both Uncommon Threads and our new shop Uncommon Closet. Here is a list of on-going needs.

Leggings (we run out constantly!)

Handbags (never enough)

Plus size clothing (we always have a shortage)

Comfortable shoes - although some of our clients love heels, most are looking for comfortable shoes

New or gently worn clothes with tags. We love to give our clients new clothes and how many of us have brand new pieces sitting in our closet that we will never wear!

New underwear, bras (new or gently worn), and new socks

Denim jackets (always in demand)

Skinny jeans (most women prefer skinny jeans to flares, although we take all styles)

High-end items to generate funds for the program. That Tory Burch bag, Tiffany bracelet or Michael Kors dress can help us pay the rent.

All donations are tax deductive as we are a program of Family Services of the Merrimack Valley, a 501C3.

Lastly, we need corporate sponsors - businesses that align with our mission to empower women that would like to join forces and become a "part" of the program in a meaningful way We are always looking for connections too! Instagram has been incredibly helpful, as it has linked me to some very influential people in the fashion world.

What's next for you?

Well, first I have to move! My husband Richard and I have displaced for almost a year now. We were supposed to move into a new home last September but had major construction issues. As a result, we've been living like gypsies moving from one place to another! It really has been quite the year between starting the program, moving twice, and having health issues (I was diagnosed with Leukemia several months ago). I'm afraid to ask "what's next?".

As far as the program goes, I would like to expand to offer more space and additional services for women. Someday, I also see the program replicate throughout the U.S. I've had so many women reach out to me on social media asking if they could also start Uncommon Threads in their neck of the woods. My Assistant Director Lysanne and I joke that someday we'll have an Uncommon Threads van, a mobile boutique to reach women who can't get to us!

What women inspire you?

There are so many women in my life who inspire men every day. My amazing volunteers selflessly give of their time and energy. They're incredible humans with huge hearts. I feel surrounded by love, caring and compassion when I'm around them.

Our Uncommon Threads' clients also inspire me. These women have overcome mountains of struggles and persevered when many would have given up. Like Jomary, who came to lawrence from Puerto Rico after losing everything she owned in Hurricane Maria. She was recuperating from a C-section when the hurricane hit and went two months without electricity and water. She is now rebuilding her life and attending a training program. She doesn't complain about her hardships, she is just grateful for everything she has. Or Ana who was dragged around by her hair for fifteen years, until she finally esaped her brutally abusive husband She lives in fear every day, has medical issues and has a child with severe disabilities, yet she offers to volunteer at Uncommon Threads because she wants to give back.

However, the real goddess in my life is my daughter Alyssa. She has overcome major obstacles in her life and lives each day in an honest and authentic way. She is open with her struggle with depression and doesn't sugarcoat her illness. She has become a strong advocate for mental illness and I lover her courage to open up and be herself. Alyssa has actually inspired me to start thinking about how I can help others through my own experencies (I've been through it all). Alyssa is also a very compassionate and giving person. She gives of herself without any expectations. She's helped so many people and I admire her for it.

I should also mention that Alyssa left the corporate world several years ago to also become the Executive Dir3ector of a fabulous non-profit called Project Home Again, coincidentally in Lawrence! We're a lot alike, as you might have guessed.

What is the most challenging part of running a non-profit?

Trying to round up funding. When I started Uncommon Threads, I never thought it would be so hard to find funding. It's been a challenge to step out of my comfort zone to ask for money (I hate this part of the job!). I'm also terrible with paperwork - thank goodness for admin support!

I am so inspired by Susan Kanoff and her wonderful work. She is empowering women and changing the world!

Check out this article in Northshore Magazine to read more about Uncommon Threads.

To learn more about Uncommon Threads or to make a donation, visit www.uncommonthreads.org

Contact: [email protected]

#interviews #Spiritual Fashionistas #Inspiration

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