#the other dress is also from the 90s i now have a industry dinner in the next few weeks so

[robotpussy]

just got my graduation dress and another dress I've been eyeing for ages at a discounted price🙏🙏☝️

[ourladyofomega]

Summer of 2006. I waited to take the trip to Philadelphia for a month to see Sleater-Kinney since my former ‘friend’ and fellow DJ D-Klein offered tickets for people to go with him. We had no idea who else would be playing up until then. With us was Elizabeth, D-Klein’’s friend and a huge Sleater-Kinney fan. And off we went to Philadelphia in a sweltering partly cloudy 95* day.

We travel through Coney Island when out of nowhere D-Klein and Elizabeth decide to stop at Astroland to ride the Cyclone. It put the trip on pause like a video game to take a spontaneous time out. But they enjoyed themselves, and why not? I wasn’t going to keep them.

We then drive through the Verrazano Bridge, then Staten Island and through New Jersey. I see all the industrial areas, petrol-storage facilities, the many rest stops, restaurants, and Sunocos lining the New Jersey Turnpike. Last time I checked, the Sunocos averaged no more than $3.05 a gallon. The music played nothing but, you guessed it, Sleater-Kinney, a taste to what to expect. So Olympian, so Kill Rock Stars. Also on the player was D-Klein spinning almost the ntire X-Ray Spex CD as well. We finally arrive in the Philadelphia outskirts at around 6:30 PM and shortly thereafter we cut through Chinatown. I didn’t know Philadelphia even had a Chinatown, but the three of us riding around assumed this was where we would go for some sushi.

Eventually we drive past the venue and see the young Philadelphia hipsters do nothing but stand in line waiting for the show to start and others walking the Philly streets towards the venue as well. We park in front of the bistros and tables and chairs set up on the sidewalks of Philly. At this point we still had no idea who else was playing other than Sleater-Kinney.

We choose Swanky Bubbles, a champagne and sushi bar. For a small eatery it was pretty neat with well-lit ambience and matching low-volume music to go with it. Me, D-Klein, and Elizabeth sit down and talk about the difference between the Philadelphia and Long Island punk scenes, some college student economics, party appearances, and other fine places to eat over our sushi dinner. We order between us wasabi mashed potatoes, a lychee drink, six spears of buttered asparagus salted with parmesan cheese, and sushi rolls such as California, Tuna, Philly, Spider Leg, Time Bomb, and Double Dragon (wasn’t that a video game?); and for dessert, a crispy Thailand banana split. $110.00 was the bill. Sold.

We walk back to the venue and the valet parking guy allowed us to park right in front of the entrance. It was now Club Polaris, formerly the Starlight Ballroom. We get there and find people with extra tickets to give away or sell. In the meantime, we hang out with the organizer of the venue. D-Klein was talking to him about the past shows of yester-years and decades ago. The promoter informs us that Clear Channel was trying to buy out both their venue and Philly scene. It’s depressing to think that Clear Channel would buy out the punk, indie-rock, and hardcore kids and tell them to fuck off so that Clear Channel can put their clean, polished, packaged industry acts in there, with no other outlets for these kids to go who call the streets their own. How we thought that pretty soon, the scene could implode with nowhere to go and be swallowed up into nothing. Where else would we go but further down?

It was when we stand in front of the Polaris waiting to get in that we heard music from inside the venue. We all finally find out to our surprise from the organizer the band was sharing the bill with Sleater-Kinney:

…The Roger Sisters.

Me and D-Klein were floored and it was then we knew that a great show was already going to become even greater.

We go in and this truly was the scene the magazines always talked about. Guys dressing hardcore, some moppy, some Napolean Dynamite cartoonish, and some slim t-shirts. The girls were pretty cute as well with their art-school haircuts, skirts, funny tees, piercings, and either Olympia-type or Williamsburg-type super-feminist style. Imagine makeoutclub ever having a meeting center.

Polaris was dark and crowded. All around us were many bars to get beer. There were many booths where kids sat around and mostly in groups drinking beers and water. (Remember, this was during a heat-wave. The Eastern board was hit with 90 degree-plus weather with lots of humidity). Some were quiet, arms crossed and minding their own. Others were very delighted to see each other and were greeted with hugs and kisses. We witnessed a couple of lesbians making out as well. And you had to give it to one fan who came to the show in a wheelchair.

The ballroom, as expected, was huge with lots of standing space. When the three of us got there, the front of the standing room was taken up but we managed to make our way about ten feet from the speakers, with a very lucky few who took a spot standing right under the vent. We had a good view to see the Rogers Sisters perform. Miyuki Furtado (bass / vocals) dedicated a song to Spiro Agnew, but took it back and later dedicated it to Condoleezza Rice. Jennifer Rogers (vocals / guitar) applied her lip gloss to prepare for the end of their set. Miyuki whipped himself around in a frenzy, performing sonic guitar tricks and creating feedback for all of us. We literally see the sweat and mist come off of his forehead. Laura Rogers (drums / vocals) whipped herself into a frenzy, too. The set lasted only 45 minutes but it was a good set. As we didn’t even know that the Rogers Sisters would play, it was no loss and all gain. Everyone wins.

The three of us hit the merchandise tables. I score Sleater-Kinney’s self-titled CD for $15.00 and I wanted to get some Rogers Sisters stuff but no one was at the tables yet. We sit around taking in all this humidity and heat observing the scene for a little bit more before we hit the merch- tables again where Miyuki and Laura finally set shop. A d.i.y. ethic. For $7.00 I grabbed three 7” singles from the Sisters who came off as very nice and gracious people. Elizabeth scores a Roger Sisters CD and matching Sleater-Kinney tees for her and her friend.

What hooked me to the Rogers Sisters was that I discovered them on WUSB’s Riot Grrrl Plus show in Summer 2003 and happened to record “I’m A Ballerina” on tape. And every chance I had I aimed to play them on the air. Why not? I figured people can be art-smart from getting into them. Bonus.

Sleater-Kinney finally came to play for a good 90 minutes. I believe D-Klein’s life has now culminated into this one night: he’s a huge fan who never had failed to play them on his show on a consistent basis (and he’s known to do that with Sonic Youth as well). Without him he wouldn’t have made this attempt to see them one last time.

One last time? Yes, Sleater-Kinney would finally call it quits after eleven years of making Kill Rock Stars a lot of money. This was their last tour and The Woods was their final record. They had to go out with style big time.

They came on and it was deafening. These ladies knew how to rock. Listen to the way they sound as theirs was rivaled by no other. Mid-set, Carrie Brownstein and Corin Tucker faced off and play their guitars towards each other and it was amazing. I was taken over. For 90 minutes I was trying to follow and absorb everything that Sleater-Kinney performed. Janet throws drumsticks and Carrie shakes out water bottles at the crowd to cool themdown. Fans screamed for them to keep going, not to go. They really loved this band that truly represented the indie-rock crowd and grrrls / femmes in general. One guy even ran on stage and urged the crowd to get ready to catch him up as he was about to stage-dive. He jumps off and instead lands on his feet. Sorry, Charlie. It’s not how it goes here at a Sleater-Kinney show.

After a while, they walk off-stage and fans just did not want to get it, so they stand there cheering and clapping heavily for five minutes more. And yes, they came back to play a few more songs, some off of The Woods. And that’s all she wrote in Philadelphia. An extended ovation as one-by-one Sleater-Kinney walks off-stage and acknowledge their fans with handshakes and smiles.

I don’t know about D-Klein or Elizabeth, but my head was about to explode. Throbbing. My entire body dripping of sweat, my shirt damp from the humidity. We leave Polaris and start driving home, a very exhausting three-hour drive compounded by listening to more Sleater-Kinney, X-Ray Spex and now The Rogers Sisters, taking home a still-pounding headache and wonderful memories from the last day of July that year.

[artificialqueens]

A Vampire in Paris: Part One (Gigi x Crystal) - Chae

A/N: aaaa it’s here, part one! i was NOT expecting it to be 3.4k words but i’m so so so proud of the dialogue in this chapter. if you can handle a bit of exposition to get to the crygi fluff i swear it’s worth it XD

Summary: Gigi Goode arrives in Paris to start preparing for Fashion Week, but what dark secret is her company hiding? What’s the deal with those three supermodels? And why is Crystal Methyd so damn adorable? 

We Begin

This couldn’t be happening. It felt wholly, totally, surreally unreal. Every dream Gigi Goode had ever dreamt seemed to be coming true at that very moment. The twenty-two year old had gone through immigration and baggage claim without really feeling much. When she met the Uber that was ordered to take her to the complex, she hadn’t felt much either. But now, as she drove through the streets of Paris, taking in the narrow paths and low buildings that completely contrasted the Los Angeles she was used to, she felt like she had arrived.

Crystal Methyd wasn’t exactly well-known, but she didn’t fly under the radar either. Anyone who spent more than two minutes researching modern fashion knew about her. She’d risen to popularity online through her wacky and interpretive, yet still fashionable, street style. Then, arguably the largest label in the world, ‘Fatelle,’ bought her company (as they did with about 90% of the fashion industry) and moved her to Paris. In a few weeks would be ‘The Methyd’s’ first showing for Paris Fashion Week, aka her ticket to worldwide fame and success, and Crystal had asked Gigi to model for her. She didn’t even know Crystal was allowed to choose her own models in the first place.

Gigi was used to having some spotlight. She’d amassed quite the following on Instagram and YouTube, which was how she got signed to her agency and apparently how Crystal had found her as well. Gigi was still dumbfounded by her luck, or talent, or universal power or whatever had gotten her to Paris to model for fashion week. She still couldn’t wrap her head around that fact when the car stopped in front of a huge building. It wasn’t modern or tall like businesses back home, but it took up an entire Parisian-sized block and stood a story or two higher than the average building. 

Gigi gripped her luggage, two roller-bag cases, a duffel bag, a small backpack, and a purse, and breathed out. She wanted to look confident and put-together when she met… whoever she was going to meet. Would it be Crystal? She’d been contacted by someone named ‘Trixie,’ so probably not, but one could hope. Gigi stepped forward, entering through the gigantic gold spinning door and coughing a bit as the scent of floral cleaning product wafted up her nose.

The lobby was pristine—spotless, sparkling, even, marble floors and marble walls and marble ceilings galore. The architecture was retro, yet the furniture seemed almost futuristic. Glass display cases flaunted the designers’ best works, particularly the original creator, Miss Fame’s, designs. She felt like every single person who would work here attended at least three fashion shows a week. The young model took a moment to admire her surroundings before her heels clicked all the way to the reception desk.

There, she was met with a strikingly familiar face, with a name tag to match.

“Excuse me—wait, are you-”

“Shhhh!” the woman seemed to perk up immediately at the prospect of being recognized, looking at Gigi frantically. “I’m nobody! I’m the receptionist.” She held a finger up to her lips.

“But your name tag, it even says-”

“My nametag doesn’t say shit!”

Gigi was a little surprised at how casual the other woman spoke to her, but blinked and continued.

“You aren’t even trying to hide it?”

“Well, not everybody is as smart as you and remembers photoshoots from forty years ago!”

“This is a fashion label’s headquarters!”

The woman paused, not knowing how to respond. “Okay, touché. Ya got me.”

“May I ask a question?”

“I mean… yeah?”

“How do you look the exact same as you did in the eighties?” Gigi was raising an eyebrow at Adore Delano, a female rock icon known for her raunchy photoshoots and close relationship to the Fatelle brand. Her hair and makeup changed, her clothes were different, too, of course, but she looked the same otherwise. What kind of ooky kooky hyaluronic acid was keeping a 60 year old woman looking 20?!

“Ask, and you will not receive,” Adore sighed, playing with her hair. “There are just some things you’d be safer… not knowing,” she smiled decidedly, pleased with her answer.

“Right,” Gigi grimaced, avoiding eye contact with the star.

“Anyway girl, what’s the sitch? What can I help you with?”

“Ah, yes of course, I’m here to meet.. well, someone. I’m a new model and I’m supposed to be staying here for a while.”

“Ohhh, you’re one of the international shipments coming in for fashion week. Which designer?”

“The Methyd.”

“Shut up!” Adore grinned, a twinkle in her eye. “Babe, you’re set for life. You better make a good impression on Crystal, she’s supposed to be the new thing and stuff!”

Gigi blushed. “Will I meet her today?” 

“Mmm,” Adore checked a computer screen, clicking a few buttons and squinting. “You’re supposed to meet with Trixie, so you’ll have to ask her.” She grabbed something from under her desk. “Gigi Goode, right?”

“That’s me. Good morning!”

“Party!” The older girl grinned, handing Gigi a small card. “That’s your room key—don’t lose it. Unless you wanna like, get stolen from.”

Gigi took the key, placing it in her purse. “Thank you, and noted. Do not get robbed.”

Suddenly, another voice joined the pair as a tall woman strode into the lobby, conversing on the phone. She was wearing a pink blazer-mini skirt set and white patent pumps, the outfit hugging her curves perfectly. Her hair was big and blonde, straight with iron-curled ringlets at the tips, and her big lips and long lashes completed the Barbie aesthetic. Her voice, however, was stern and confident, the complete opposite of her doll-like appearance. If this was Trixie, Gigi was already intimidated.

“Well, Brenda, tell Katya that I’ll call her back later, please,” she commanded, a short answer coming from the other end before Trixie interrupted, scolding the person in French before hanging up. She looked to Gigi with a smile. “Sorry about that. You must be Gigi!” 

Gigi smiled and reached out to shake her hand, but forgot that air kisses were the customary French greeting. Nice going, idiot, Gigi thought to herself as she finished the proper hello. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Mattel!”

“Oh hun, you can call me Trixie,” she smiled. “Welcome to Fatelle! I’m your modeling manager, so we’ll be seeing each other a lot. You come to me with any questions, concerns, issues, you need a tampon, a condom, a chocolate, a shot, I’m your gal,” she winked. Gigi laughed.

“In that case, can I have a-”

“You are not about to ask me for a condom.”

“Well…”

The two burst out, Trixie’s laugh coming out more like a bird screech than a human chuckle. 

“Ah! Almost forgot,” Trixie reached into her pocket and grabbed a sticky note, handing it to Gigi. “That’s my number. I’ll text you important info, like meeting and fitting dates and such. We’ve only got three weeks to prepare for this, so the schedule is packed.”

Gigi folded the paper and put it with her room card, already nervous for what was to come. “Agh, well, I’m excited to start!”

“Of course!” Trixie smiled, glancing at her phone as it buzzed. “Shit, well, I gotta go.”

“Hold on, sorry, how do I get to my room?”

“Right! I’m stupid for not telling you.” Trixie pointed to where she’d come from. “Over there is the apartment complex area. Your key card will say which room it is, and the elevators are dead ahead. This place has a restaurant open to the public like a hotel does, but it’s free for models and employees and serves us privately during the day. There’s also kitchens in the rooms if you wanna cook for yourself,” she explained. “Later tonight our team should be getting together for a meeting, I’ll text you the details, kay?” Trixie almost mumbled the last part as she frantically punched the keyboard of her phone, obviously annoyed with the person she was texting. “Enjoy your stay!”

Before Gigi could even say bye, Trixie was gone. She understood for the most part, but she couldn’t help but notice Trixie hadn’t said anything about the portion of the building across from the apartments. The curiosity ate her up, so she opted to ask Adore.

“What’s over there?” Gigi motioned to the glass doors that led to the mystery area.

“That’s where all the businessy stuff happens,” Adore rested her head in her hand. “You’ll probably go there to do your model stuff. The further in you go, the crazier the shit is.”

“Crazy shit? What kind of crazy shit?”

Adore bit her lip, knowing she’d said too much. “Enjoy your stay, Miss Goode.”

Gigi raised an eyebrow. Something smelled rotten at the Fatelle headquarters, and the young woman was dying to learn more. She followed instructions to get to her room, a spacious and immaculately decorated space. Flopping on the bed, Gigi closed her eyes, imagining what it would be like to own such a large company. She’d never considered designing clothes, more than happy to stick to modeling. Speaking of which, she had a dinner to get ready for. She sat up, releasing her ginger waves from their ponytail with a shake of her head, exhaling a breath. After she unpacked, she was going to make herself look smoking hot. Crystal would not regret choosing her to be a model.

———

Gigi knocked on the glass doors leading to the private seating of the restaurant, trying to get Trixie’s attention. She’d worn her fanciest mini dress and most expensive Louboutins in hopes of impressing her team. The table was large, maybe ten or eleven girls crowding around it. And in the back, she spotted Crystal.

Or did Crystal spot her? Because they were making eye contact— holy shit they were making eye contact and Crystal was the prettiest girl ever what the fuck? Gigi gulped as someone else, a girl she didn’t recognize, let her in.

“Hey! Here to meet with The Methyd team?”

“Mhm,” Gigi nodded, air kissing the other woman. “Gigi Goode.”

“Oh, awesome! I’m Rock M Sakura, one of the makeup artists,” the shorter girl grinned at Gigi, her appearance reminding the model of a magical girl anime. “But you can just call me Rock.”

“Rock? What’s that short for?”

“Rock and Roll, baby,” she made a face and sat back down at the table, leaving Gigi to giggle and flick her eyes around to find an empty spot.

Of course the only one left was right next to Crystal.

And of course Crystal was smiling at her the entire time she walked to the seat.

“Hey, you’re Gigi right?” The designer asked, making the model blush at the fact that she knew her name. 

“Good morning, it’s an honor to meet you Ms. Methyd.”

“Ah jeez, just call me Crystal! We don’t use last names here,” Crystal motioned to the laughing girls around the dinner table. “It looks like everyone’s here actually, we can finally introduce ourselves!”

Gigi glanced at Trixie, who was sitting close by, her facial expression reading “is this girl always this sweet and peppy?” The manager caught her eye and shot her back a look that said “yes.” 

Crystal tapped a wine glass, garnering everyone’s attention. “Everyone, thank you all for coming to start this journey with me,” the designer started, a grin wide across her lips. “I know we’re all gonna make an amazing team, we just have to, uh, know each other’s names first?” Everyone chuckled lightly. Crystal looked towards Gigi with a sparkle in her eye. “Why don’t you start?”

Gigi took a breath, wanting to make sure her expression was stone-cold. “Nice to meet you all, I’m Gigi Goode, I just arrived from Los Angeles, I’ll be modeling.”

Crystal smiled, beckoning the rest to introduce themselves.

“My name is Jackie Cox, I came in from New York not too long ago, and I’m your backstage coordinator!”

“Bonsoir, I am Nicky Doll from Paris, obviously. I’ll be modeling as well.”

“Hey y’all, I’m Trixie Mattel, which you probably already knew, because I got you all here, because I’m your modeling manager.”

“The name is Jaida Essence Hall, and I’ve been modeling with Fatelle for some time now. I’m looking forward to working with Miss Methyd.”

“Hi, my name’s Rock M Sakura, just got here from San Francisco!  I’ll be your assistant makeup artist!”

“Raven. Lead makeup artist.” 

Now this chick seemed… off. She was extremely out of place amongst the rest of the girls in the group. She was just sitting there, glaring at the rest of the crew and almost… taking in information? Her face was sharp and beautiful, but her eyes pierced through Gigi’s soul as she, for some reason, stared her down. They moved on.

“I’m Plastique Tiara, I’ll also be a model. I can’t wait to start!”

“Hey there, I’m Brooke Lynn Hytes, if you’re Canadian, you know me. I’ll be helping get you guys outfits and hair stylists.”

“Ugh, great to meet y’all! I’m Jan Sport, I’m another model!”

There was only one girl left, thankfully, and only one more name to remember. “Hey, I’m Dahlia Sin. I’ll obviously be modeling.”

Crystal rubbed her hands together excitedly. “Yay! Now that we all know each other, hopefully the waiter’s coming sooooon!”

The table murmured in agreement, returning back to their previous conversations.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Gigi,” Jackie said from her left. Nicky peeked over her shoulder and nodded, flashing a gorgeous smile.

“The pleasure is all mine!” Gigi replied. “I can’t wait to try some authentic French cuisine,” she liked her lips.

“That’s right, you just got off the plane!” Crystal exclaimed. 

Gigi confirmed. “How long have you been staying here?”

“Oh gosh, not long, maybe a month or two. Most of this team has only been working at Fatelle for less than a year.”

“Except moi!” Nicky’s thick accent interjected, an eyebrow raised playfully. “And Raven. Jaida’s probably been here just over a year. But yeah, apart from us, even Trixie’s a baby.” 

Raven seemed to sense her name being spoken, but only tossed them a glance before returning to typing on her phone. Trixie was enthralled in some deep phone convo, the hard worker never seeming to catch a break.

“Oh, I just can’t wait to start! These designs have been in my head for years and they finally get to see the light of day on my amazing models!” Crystal gushed. The passion for her work seemed to be flowing out of each word she spoke, the radiant positivity infectious. 

“We’re so excited to see you succeed, Crys,” Jan quickly complimented before returning to an apparently intense debate with Brooke and Dahlia. 

Gigi noticed the waiter walk in through the glass door to take their drink orders, the model smiling at the thought of finally getting some real food in her. The only thing she’d been eating for the past 48 hours were shitty plane meals and junky snacks to try and make it through the thirteen hour joint flight. 

When the door was open, however, Gigi couldn’t help but notice three distant figures sauntering down the restaurant hall. They looked super important, super rich. They must have been supermodels, but she couldn’t tell from how far away she was.

Jackie caught her line of sight. “You know them, right?” She asked, an edge of malice in her tone.

“I couldn’t exactly see who they were, but I’m sure I’d know of them.”

“They’re some bad business,” Jackie grunted. 

“Really? Who are they?”

“Those are just some of the other models. Aquaria, Valentina, and Naomi Smalls,” Crystal explained, making Gigi’s eyes widen.

“No way! They’re insanely famous! Isn’t Aquaria supposed to take over the company or something?” Gigi raved.

“That’s up for debate,” Nicky rolled her eyes. “It sure looks like it, though.”

“If Mean Girls was real life, Aquaria is Regina, Naomi is Gretchen, and Valentina is Karen,” Jackie said. “And don’t you dare try to become Cady.”

Gigi laughed. “I won’t, I promise. I like you all too much.”

“Their people are another beast altogether,” Nicky spat. “One that we’ve been trying to conquer, but they’re just so full of themselves they can’t see past their own noses.”

“They’re working for Fatelle Official, so they’re doing something right,” Crystal tried to reason. 

“Well, I’m working for The Methyd, which is gonna be bigger than Fatelle. I can just feel it,” Gigi grinned. Crystal laughed airily, a tinge of red hitting her cheeks.

“Thanks, Gig!” 

Gigi couldn’t help but blush once again at the cute nickname Crystal has already begun to use. They all placed their drink orders, and Gigi managed to converse with Crystal without exploding. The older girl was dressed in a sparkly cocktail dress, with bright colored eyeshadow and thick eyeliner. Her hair was curly and mouse-brown, and it framed her face while flaring out in the back. Crystal was dastardly gorgeous, with twinkling eyes, a tiny nose, and lips ever-curved into a smile. Thank god it was normal to look at someone while they talked to you, because Gigi couldn’t stop looking at Crystal.

Gigi sipped the mixed drink that was brought to her at last, while Crystal looked at her with a playful smirk. 

“Have you ever thought about going blonde?”

“Ha! Maybe? Why?”

“One, you’d look good. Two, I’ve been wanting to go redhead but I don’t want to come for your brand!”

Gigi laughed heartily, wiping a bit of drink off her lip. “I’ll have to think about it!”

“If you do it, do it before the show!”

“And do it at a hairdresser,” a voice said at the other end of the table. It was quiet and barely audible over the chatter of the other women, but Gigi realized Raven had been listening to their conversation. She made eye contact with the older woman and grew hot, her gaze making Gigi anxious and want to look away. She nodded at Raven and turned back to Crystal, cringing.

“What’s her deal?”

“Raven’s?” Crystal bit her lip, not entirely comfortable with the makeup artist’s presence either. “The higher ups said she needed to work with us since everyone was new, and she is the best makeup artist in the city, really,” she shrugged. “I couldn’t say no.”

Gigi nodded in understanding. “She keeps looking at us.”

“I know,” Crystal chuckled. “But I mean, who wouldn’t want to look at you?”

The model turned bright red, rubbing the back of her neck. “Thank you, Crystal. It… means a lot coming from you.”

It was the designer’s turn to blush, and for a few moments the two sat in awkward silence before they were interrupted by the waiter taking their orders. Gigi hadn’t even looked at the menu— she was too busy talking, so she just ordered whatever Crystal got. 

Gigi knew, even from the short time she’d spent with her new friends, that she was in for a wild ride. And she knew something was up with Raven, Aquaria, Valentina, Naomi, and Adore, and she was going to get to the bottom of it before Fashion Week was over.

———

It was 11:58 PM when Raven opened the great wooden doors to the study, shutting them gently behind herself. She spotted Violet Chachki perched on the desk as usual, smoking a cigarette from a holder ring. Violet shot the makeup artist a look before clearing her throat.

“Darling, Raven’s here.”

In a movie-like scene, the huge velvet chair behind the oak desk spun around, revealing a disinterested Miss Fame. She too, was smoking a cigarette, but in a much less dramatic fashion than her assistant. 

“So?” She pressed.

“You definitely want that Gigi girl. And you want Methyd, too.”

“Right. And?”

“You’re in luck, because apparently they’re a package deal.”

Violet grinned, glancing to her lover who seemed to share the same sentiment. The designer and the model. The CEO and the burlesque dancer.

Fame looked back to Raven, stubbing out her cigarette with her own finger.

 “History repeats itself, it seems.”

[siteeco15]

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Castings for paid adult model jobs in Birmingham, the West Midlands, Telford, Wolverhampton and Coventry give adult models the chance for paid model work , usually on an hourly rate to work with photographers, videographers, stylists, filmmakers, make up artists, art directors and producers. Fashion photographers and famous fashion models all head for London Fashion Week twice a year , in February and in September, to the shows.

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Birmingham Polytechnic( edit ) In the s, changes were made to the higher education system creating an expansion of polytechnics as a more vocationally orientated alternative to the typical university. The City of Birmingham Education Committee was invited to submit a scheme for the establishment of a polytechnic bringing together a number of different colleges in the city in This was the second polytechnic in Birmingham, the first — Birmingham Polytechnic Institution — having existed in the mid th century for ten years.

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People put invest in it so they can meet someone like them. Nowadays people have much higher expectations. The birth of mobile phones, social media, tweeting texting and chatting online have changed human nature. People cancel by text now. And that culture has spread into the dating world — people want what they want. The set-up is distinctly old-fashioned, as Mairead explains: I had a nice time.

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Not mind-blowing, not terrible, just quite normal. But it was still very different to going on a date with a random bloke I met in a bar, or someone on Tinder. Both evenings ended at a civilised hour with a peck on the cheek — after which, Jo calls me with feedback — which is excruciating. As it happens, although I had a lovely time with both men, I felt pretty ambivalent about seeing them again, and told Jo as such.

Black Women on POF (Plenty of Fish) Part 5 Birmingham

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Artist as Purveyor of the Contemporary Landscape

The first time I saw a representation of Salvador Dali's “The Persistence of Memory” was in a cartoon on Nickelodeon called “Tiny Toons.”  I forget the exact scene but somehow this image stayed with me and has pervaded popular culture since its inception.  Dali first came up with the idea during a after a dinner party with his wife, Gala and some artist friends.  After dinner the group decided to go to the cinema and Dali decided to hang back.  He sat at the head of the table observing a loaf of Camembert cheese and pondering the super soft texture of it.  He sat down and began to work at the painting.  It was almost complete upon the return of his wife.  Upon seeing it she proclaimed that it was a sight impossible to be unseen.

The simplicity of the initial concept of soft cheese was then taken to the next step through Dali's hyper paranoiac conceptualism and then taken even further by art critics, theorists, and historians who believed it had to do with Einstein's theory of relativity.  Later on in Dali's career he began to paint about this topic, with the advent of nuclear physics and string theory, molecular structures and DNA mapping.  This is an instance of artist creating a brand, and the symbiotic relationship between the supply chain and the demand creating new technologies, hybridized paintings, and advancement in concept.  Dali drifted between faith systems his entire life, finding sources of inspiration and exploring them, sharing his findings and experiments through the medium of art.  What started as landscape and portraiture evolved into impressionism then cubism and then his most famous surrealist stage.  This period explored the concept of dream reality and meaning of dream symbols which directly connected him to the theories of Sigmund Freud.  When criticized by fellow surrealists as purely a commercial painter, he denounced surrealism, needing only his wife Gala.  He lived a life in the spotlight through wars, moving from Europe to New York and back again.  He progressed the ideas explored in surrealism to scientific theorems and in the tail end of his career he became more of a faith based painter.

Sometimes the mythology of a painting's creation is more interesting than the painting itself.  It's reputation precedes it and therefore it achieves high levels of fame.  One such painting is “Dance at the Moulin de la Galette” by Renoir.  The Moulin de la Galette was a popular dance hall/ bar/ restaurant for the impressionists to meet in Montmarte Paris, France during the late 1800's.  Pierre Auguste Renoir had a studio nearby.  Legend has it that everyday he would carry the canvas with a friend down to the Moulin de la Galette and set up his easel.  

Renoir leased a studio at 12 Rue Cortot, in April 1875.  It came furnished and had two floors, where he lived with his brother.  He made several studies at the Moulin de la Galette.  Renoir's civil servant friend Georges Riviere writes how friends helped carry the canvas back and forth “We would carry this canvas every day from the rue cortot to the moulin, because the painting was executed entirely on the spot.  This was not without difficulties, when the wind blew and the big canvas threatened to fly away like a kite over the Butte.” (pg. 64)

Renoir used his friends and acquaintances from all walks of life as models.  He had a favorite female sitter, whose name was Jeanne and was sixteen who refused the main role in the painting but appears later in life as the main character in “The Swing.”  Instead, her sister Estelle models the pink and blue ribbon dress.

Renoir went through a period in his life where he and his fellow impressionist compatriots were penniless.  Renoir combated this period in his life by writing letters to friends asking for money, also by staying with fellow artists such as Monet.  It seemed the impressionist vision was fading with the salon show actually losing money and his artist group parting ways.  His main gallerist Durand-ruel closed his London location and it seemed that all was lost.  Famished, Renoir started painting portraits and with a stroke of luck and genius, he was able to make the acquaintance of one of Duret's friends Deudon, who was a wealthy lawyer and owner of a clothing store Old England.  Duedon comissioned him to paint a mural in his estate, a portrait of Madame Duedon and five of his finished pieces.  

This granted Renoir passage to build upon what he had been pursuing with his portrait studies to create the symphony of motion and light that we know as Bal du Moulin de la Galette.  After exhibiting, he was able to land several published reviews as was the style at the time.  However, instead of advancing his process and concept, the reviews were mostly negative, 2/6 were favorable.

Most of Renoir's paintings are figurative, all signifying spacial pictoral depth.  Some are landscape.  Now they seem highly unoriginal, the best part about them being the color and motion of brushstroke.  His model choice changed slightly over the years, yet remained mostly young white women, beginning with light red hair and progressing to black.  He undeniably had a type, at his worst remained a blank, doll-like expression.  Even in the Bal du Moulin de la Galette, his most populated painting, it looks as though the main female model repeats over and over as though she were dancing with her clones.  However, he combats this with the dappled shadows from the overhanging branches, the representation of the contemporary styles of the time, and the bright and sunny disposition of all the participants of the scene.  One cannot help but feel nostalgic for a period that would not have existed if the Impressionists had not imagined and created it.  

Advance time about a hundred years or more and we find Bruce la Bruce's movie Super 8 1/2.  This movie is a mockumentary based on a queer fetishistic porn producer's life and work.  Things have changed since the 90's, with the advancement of the internet interrupting basically every aspect of our lives.  Porn is everywhere.  This movie is reminiscent of John Waters' tongue in cheek reality.  The stars are not perfect right wing citizens, they are “underground” and rife with problems, and we see how very real they are.  The main character takes after Andy Warhol, he has taken to alcoholism and lives in a dingy room with aluminum colored space blankets on the walls.  He is always in a state of heartbreak and his relationships with his costars are argumentative and violent.  

Googie is an adventurous porn producer who finds her subjects in mysterious ways.  She finds a lesbian couple hooking up in a graveyard and casts them as her new stars.  A confessional interview shows them talking about their threesomes with strangers and hatred for hetero cis men. They like to “fuck them, and fuck with their minds.”  Wednesday and Friday describe going into clubs with a pair of scissors and cutting off straight men's ponytails.  They aren't serious strippers, they are quirky and take their sexuality and dancing with a slight humorous bend.  

The stars are full of themselves and obsessed with fame.  Their egos cause them to blow up in violent outbursts at each other and exploit each other.  The difference between Bruce la Bruce's porn and every other run of the mill porn filmed in New York or the valley, is that these stars have been given credit for being avant garde art stars. One such plot is Bruce driving an old Jaguar down a a desolate country road and hitting a hitchhiker.  He gets out of the car to check on the man who he has hit and ends up getting a blowjob when he regains consciousness.  The movie concludes with the stranger throwing up on the side of the road and Bruce hopping back in the car and driving away.

A movie directed by Googie and starring Wednesday and Friday, the two lesbian “sisters,” pictures them holding a man up with a WWII army beretta, lubing up his rear and shoving the covered pistol in his behind.  They finish him off by stripping him bare in the brush, powdering him and equipping him with a diaper.

The movie is a black comedy.  Visually it is devoid of colour. Needless to say, it is weighty in its stark portrayal of a scene that is hardly ever represented in the main stream without being over glorified.  It is an industry, much like the meat industry, that remains invisible in its process, yet is pervasive throughout history, since the dawn of photography.  It has it's parallels in the art scene, with painters and photographers alike representing models who may or may not have participated in porn shoots.  The credit goes to the artist usually, with the model being a conduit to his concept, and it is impossible to see how much the subject actually contributed to the process and final image.

Eventually we see Bruce's participation in the industry drowning him in sorrow. He stumbles around the courtyard of an insane asylum in black doc martens, white pants, and a white straight jacket.  He has been exploited to no end, what was supposed to save his career, the interviews and collaborations, actually detrimented from it.  His friend describes him as losing touch with reality, blurring the line between his movies and his waking life.  We see him shellshocked on camera dropping a line of infinite wisdom and rebuking it, attempting to cover his tracks, rephrasing it as if it can be edited out of the space time continuum.

The film is filmed in low-fi black and white with almost no budget. Needless to say, it is an art film.  It documents a sub culture that concerns itself with a subversive beauty, that the mainstream is dangerous.  It takes hard work no matter what you do, whoever said being a pornstar is easy?  We see the image of a young black man on a benchpress, the director condemning him for not being able to get it up, that he has had “Three fluffers already.”  That the price of fame might be the price of your mental well being, that the more one departs from mainstream society the more danger one welcomes into their personality.  That somehow being beautiful and volatile gives you control over others, it creates a desire in them to do your will. However, it is only tolerable for a short period of time.  Misery loves company but it also attracts a certain type of self aware genius.  We are only comfortable with our avarice in the midst of a reflection, and when that reflection starts to change we are disgusted and need to move on.  We accept that life is hard and must accept the most gruesome of challenges because our ability to tolerate and moderate these events bring us a sense of personal satisfaction, the sense of grit to survive.  The fear always lies with our insecurities.  When will this life bring me under?  How much is too much?  In this industry, pain and substance abuse go hand in hand.  In theory, the dampening of the limbic system allows us to surpass the constant onslaught of painful memories.  What is actually happening is quite the opposite.  How one chooses to combat these issues or feelings depends on a personality type or a type of abuse someone has endured in the past, whether it was mental, physical or sexual.  Occasionally people attempt to welcome back this type of abuse into their lives, they put themselves in situations that repeat or glorify an abusive situation and it becomes a cycle without rebirth leading to their ultimate destruction and downfall.  Given the right willpower, resources, and technique one can break this cycle.  Life is not without pitfalls and setbacks, but only if we take them that way.  This can lead us further into space or further equip us to deal with life has to offer us.  

Ultimately society was not built to do us any favors.  The kind of free sexual rebellion that this movie introduces is somewhat refreshing somewhat stale.  It shows us that this behavior might not land us in prison, but might lead us to a sort of mental exile where we feel alien to the world.  The world has offered us an escape from mainstream only to find that we are caught in another mainstream. Crimes against humanity are rampant wherever we go and it is not until we accept them as part of our culture that we find any release.

Tony smith created the steel sculpture “Die” in 1968 with the intention of representing the “square root” of six.  It is literally six by six feet, metaphorically representing death by being six feet deep and a six foot box.  It is brooding in its intentionality, also seems to be a means to an end goal of traveling to New York.  The NGA describes the piece as “embracing the heroic and humanistic attitudes associated with abstract expressionist art of the 1950's,” however I would describe the movement as one filled mostly with a sense of white male machismo.  How could he have not noticed the gigantic black cube in the middle of Jerusalem called the Kaaba which houses the holy book of the Q'uuraan?  Millions of people flock to the religious site each year to pay homage to the prophet Muhammad.  Arguably, this is an even larger homage to organized religion and the prowess of another man of a separate ethnicity. Both cubes are homages to death, one is immensely popular and other remains a mirror of a small dying culture, we shall presume the reader knows which one is which.  

Sometimes art is less conceptual as a metaphor for what is already present in life, and turns into a science project that invigorates the future of materiality, which is what all visual art media is based.  Traditional materials are often decided by trends in the economy, sudden turns of fate determine which path is chosen and which materials will become the new norm.  What replaced the steam engine with the gasoline powered motorcar and what replaced paper made from trees instead of hemp, was usually a rich investor that decided it was easier to pollute than to create something that is sustainable and equally as useful.  What we have now is a bunch of overworked, underpaid employees that are just as polluted in their minds as the environments lakes and rivers.  

Iris van Herpen is a designer that falls into a new genre of material futures.  Material futures deals with finding a category of unsustainable or overused materiality, whether it be, organs, meat that we eat, or clothes that we wear.  She creates new fabrics that are produced using 3d scans and furthermore printed and stitched by hand and machine to create designs reminiscent of HR Giger meets fairy princess, Hufflepuff meets Slitheryn in Harry Potter fan lore. She is conducting science with the touch of a skilled wizard, producing new leather from cow cells and lightweight fabrics lighter than silk.  This technology continues to progress around the world. Her theory is not that we should be creating new wearable technologies that are stylistically unsound, meant to connect us to the outside world without bringing anything new to the physical realm.  Her textures and textiles connote that we can represent how we feel and what we have experienced through  a suit that we wear. 3D printing is becoming more accessible, to the point that people could do it “if they could only find the time.”  If Iris van Herpen ever becomes mainstream we might not find the time to leave the house in the morning, staring at our reflections, robing and disrobing again until we can find the right form to describe our ever changing mood.

As it so happens, Iris van Herpen interned for Alexander McQueen, a famous English fashion designer who has died but his name still rings on.  Before his death in 2010, he put together a show called VOSS, in which models were to reenact the mentality of being in an inpatient unit.  Models shaped like gazelles stumble around in high heels looking posh and sleek with some sort of headdress that looks as though they have strapped pantyhose to their heads.  Kate moss fumbles at the walls, which, are double sided mirrors, the audience can see in but none of the models on the runway can see out.  The models, while nice to look at, sporting some amazing designs by McQueen, are perhaps not the most interesting part of the show.  The climax comes, as the large rectangular rhombus in the center of the room comes crashing open, glass shatter and butterflies spread everywhere, fluttering about in the light.  The main character, unclear whether she is the protagonist/ antagonist, reclines nude inside the cube, sporting a gas mask with concord wings a precursor to a character in Mad Max Fury Road.  

It just so happens that this model is Michelle Olley, a London based writer and magazine editor who specializes in culture.  She was a key figure in queer and fetish culture in the 80's and 90's and has since hopped around from job to job and now works as content manager for Turner Broadcasting's Adult Swim.  On her blog, she describes the experience of being involved in the project.  The all around stress she was under and the real life torture she felt being kept in the box.

“If it weren’t for yoga I’d be in absolute agony by now. I can’t move much because moving breaks wings; my lower leg is dead after about twenty minutes on the chair. I’ve got at least an hour and a half alone in here, and that’s if the show starts on time, which of course they never, ever do. After about another fifteen minutes my right shoulder, which is leaning on a cushion, starts to ache. I’m clutching onto Stephen’s best scalpel—which I need to slash open the butterfly net that contains 250 live moths and butterflies. I’m holding the net in my other hand trying to keep it still so I don’t disturb them. The radio earpieces are throbbing—they’ve been hurting since they wrapped the bandages round them. It’s not too bad in the mask. I can breathe OK. The temperature is awful, though. They need to keep it cold in there so that the moths will remain still/placid. Cold air is being piped in, as when the lights go on at showtime, it’s going to get really hot. The cold air is giving me goose bumps and making the glue/moth parts all around my body really itchy. My head’s hot, my body’s freezing. Time to test whether they really are listening at all times. I ask Anna to turn off the air con and they agree to give it a rest for ten minutes. I have no idea how long it took to shut it off or low long it was off for, but it wasn’t enough. Before I know it, the pipes are blowing again—sending another flurry of broken wings and antennas off me and I’m shivering. Anna tells me they’re running about twenty minutes late (it was about an hour to the official start by this point). By this stage I have no idea how long I’ve been in there, or how long I have left. Time has ceased to be quantifiable. I’m too focused on not thinking about my discomfort, not getting emotional, saying warm and not thinking about the fact I was busting for a pee. I just wanted desperately to get it over with. Sometime later Anna calls to say it would be another fifteen minutes on top of the twenty (“We’re waiting for Gwyneth, who’s stuck in traffic”). Bring. It. On. Before getting in the box, I’d seen all the names on the chairs through the two-way mirrored glass. Paltrow was at my feet, next to Nick and Charlotte Knight; my backside was right to Isabella Blow, Grace Jones, Sharlene from Texas and Ronnie and Jo Wood. Could they tell I was hatching a radio mic? I’d also spotted Tracy Chapman, Tracey Emin and Jake Chapman’s names on the chairs. My early comment about “doing it for art” was coming true in an unexpected fashion...

No, it’s the art thing again. I want people to know what I just went through wasn’t a breeze and I did it for art. Yes, art. Because I believe it’s worth going through that much palaver if it creates a strong image that conveys an important idea. And I believe that the idea that we are trapped by our “civilized,” socially approved identities is massively important. It causes women so much suffering. Fear of aging, fear of not being thin enough. Fear of not having the right clothes. Fear of our animal natures that we carry in our DNA—fish, bird, lizard, insect, mammal. We’ve never had it more techno, we’ve never needed it more human. We humans living now still cannot turn ourselves into perfect beings, no matter how long we spend at the gym, beauty parlour, shops, etc.”

Sometimes it takes a whole orchestra of behind the scenes folks to get a project realized.  Sometimes it is only a handful of people who receive the credit for a massive undertaking such as this.  Why is Tracy Chapman still relevant?  Because she is involved with the culture.  And when all is said and done, however equally distributed the pain and strife of the work that was completed, we still live in a world where Benjamin Franklin is accredited with the discovery of electricity.  Perhaps McQueen would have not felt so weighed down by the responsibility of stardom if the attention received for such a project was distributed with more equity.  Michelle Olley still learned a valuable lesson in body image from the experience of participating in the project, so it seems that process can be the most important part of creation.

Haruki Murakami writes in his novel Kafka on the Shore, “That’s why I like to listen to Schubert while I’m driving. Like I said, it’s because all the performances are imperfect. A dense, artistic kind of imperfection stimulates your consciousness, keeps you alert. If I listen to some utterly perfect performance of an utterly perfect piece while I’m driving, I might want to close my eyes and die right then and there. But listening to the D major, I can feel the limits of what humans are capable of—that a certain type of perfection can only be realized through a limitless accumulation of the imperfect. And personally, I find that encouraging.”

Contemporary art seems to operate solely upon this concept, that there are continuous builds based upon the notion that everything here is imperfect.  Competition is based on this nodule that human kind has something to prove, that there is somehow something better to be strived for.  Competition within contemporary art pushes boundaries of what is conceptual, accepted, what element of art history the piece is derived from, and what new materials can be used.  Since there is no purpose in striving for perfection, it eliminates the competition within the art world.  What is left is abstract free flowing ideas.  Competition in the art world, it seems only exists within the art market.  Survival of the fittest is based on who has the latest advancement in technology “who has the biggest guns” and who can obtain the largest chunk of the economy.  Eventually people try to compensate by dumping the largest amount of money into a particular project, here size of the object, materiality, location, and finish come into play.  What is left can be impactful, just because of the immense capabilities of one particular artist.  

The Japanese synth composer Yuzo Koshiro, who is famous for his video game scores during the 90's describes this concept when being called the king of FM synthesis.  “It’s an honour for me. Though there are a lot of people who use the FM synth well. As I said before, in terms of game music... Trying to use an FM synth with MIDI had so many restrictions. I don’t think people could use the chip to its full potential exactly as they wanted. Since I made my own editor and driver, I could control everything about the chip down to the fine details. So I think that’s why I was able produce that level of sound. I definitely don’t think I’m great at making quality tones though. Being able to control every little thing freely was one of the main reasons I received that kind of praise.”  Koshiro was able to fine tune his process by using his own tools, which he developed, using his own ideal of how he saw the future.  Still, he believes the final product was not the embodiment of perfection.  He finds that the more one plays through a video game with the music that he has composed, the more the melodies grow on us.

“Is it the quiet shore of contemplation that I set aside for myself, as I lay bare, under the cunning, orderly surface of civilizations, the nurturing horror that they attend to pushing aside by purifying, systematizing, and thinking; the horror that they seize on in order to build themselves up and function?  I rather conceive it as a work of disappointment, of frustration and hollowing—probably the only counterweight to abjection.  While everything else –its archaeology and its exhaustion—is only literature:  The sublime point at which the abject collapses in a burst of beauty that overwhelms us—and that cancels our existence” Kristeva.

Kristeva's “Powers of Horror” is a long, drawn out study on the abject.  How she was able to complete such a tour de force is beyond us, which is probably why it seems so intelligent.  She was able to sustain concentration on the most unbearable subjects, and most art students, given the the task of completing the entire transcript, are unable to do so.  If there is one positive concept to be derived from this reading, it is that the abject is necessary in small doses, in order to achieve the opposite.  What disrupts and disgusts us can make us believe that there is an opposite.  That notion is described in the quote as the sublime.  

If we look at the hollowness of space as terrifying, then we see why people decide to huddle together within city walls.  We condense only to realize that this too, can be perceived as abject, and in the instance, we decide to disperse.  In this way, the feeling of abjection can flip flop, all at once describing the fickle nature of the human personality, and the lightness of being alive.

“Women artists are more inward-looking, more delicate and nuanced in their treatment of their medium, it may be asserted. But which of the women artists cited above is more inward-turning then Redon, more subtle and nuanced in the handling of pigment than Corot? Is Fragonard more or less feminine than Mme. Vigee-Lebrun? Or is it not more a question of the whole Rococo style of eighteenth-century France being "feminine," if judged in terms of a binary scale of "masculinity" versus "femininity"? Certainly, if daintiness, delicacy, and preciousness are to be counted as earmarks of a feminine style, there is nothing fragile about Rosa Bonheur's Horse Fair, nor dainty and introverted about Helen Frankenthaler's giant canvases. If women have turned to scenes of domestic life, or of children. so did Jan Steen, Chardin, and the Impressionists-- Renoir and Monet as well as Morisot and Cassatt. In any case, the mere choice of a certain realm of subject matter, or the restriction to certain subjects, is not to be equated with a style, much less with some sort of quintessentially feminine style.”

Traditionally, throughout history, most of the credit of winning has been given to men.  Credit is sometimes equated to fame, such as Alexander McQueen's stylistic designs and art shows, where there are numerous participants.  However, what equates fame?  How do we quantify how well known something is?  If something that lives in our hearts is more important than fame, how is it that we measure?  Many ideas presented in the art history canon have been proposed by women first. We see this in the example of Carolee Schneemann's “Meat Joy” and also “Up to and Including Her Limits.”  Matthew Barney used the same ideas in his piece “Drawing Restraint” several years later and arguably received more credit.  He is also referencing his “personal mythology,” which might include pieces that Schneemann has produced.  Meat Joy creates a scene where the body is abjectly presented as a vessel of meat, flesh we consume is also the flesh we destroy, and the theme of abject flesh is now popularized in contemporaries like Jenny Saville.  Where once upon a time it was popular to idealize the human form, it is now popular to debunk the myth of a perfect form and present the new ideal as a medley of body types and human characteristics, not ignoring the ever presence of the abundance of flesh, and bodily fluids.  In terms of art, the gender of the object is attributed to whomever created it, no matter how rugged or polished the piece may be.  The independence of women artists does not suggest that they did not particularly belong to a certain school or class of artists, it just means that they were not recognized for being there.  Since the presence of art history is also based upon the presence of critics and historians, the relationships between these individuals and the people they chose to represent is important too.  The interpersonal relationships amongst individuals in the art world also influence who receives a review. Ana Mendietta is mostly recognized for her relationship with Carl Andre, as Lucian Freud is mostly recognized because he is grandson to Sigmund Freud.  Not to say either is necessarily without talent, which is quite the opposite, however people are recognized mostly from their upbringing and what circles they revolve in.

Which leaves me believing something is missing within the art world and the world at large.  We all experience the sense of the void, which is a mirror of the total amount of dark matter in the universe.  There is something amiss, and we are not quite sure what it is.  The Fifth Element addresses this concept, with the notion that there is a missing element that will save the universe.  With designs by Jean Giraud Moebius and Jean Paul Gaultier, this french cult classic is one of the most visually stunning movies to date.  

The plot revolves around the main character Korben Dallas and his relationship with the embodiment of the fifth element, Leeloo.  She is a fanboy's dream, a young model actress that does not speak English, is the visage of perfection but does not have any visual or cultural preference of her own to speak of, nor any knowledge of who she is or what humans are.  Besides this general monotony, she contains an element that is activated by a particular piece of knowledge.  What Korben Dallas teaches her, is the concept of love.  This is the final unifying element in the universe, the one that clarifies the dream, and brings light to an otherwise dark place.  No matter what your belief system is, if you are a human, animal, sentient being, this rings true.  What is the essence of life, what is the point of materiality if there is no feeling there?

With my own work, I feel a sense of displacement usually rather than belonging.  A jumble of ideas are mashed together usually to bring a solution to some sort of negativity, in order to see the light shine through.  Many artists use their art as a way to connect on a broader spectrum, in this way I am no different.  I find that personally I connect best at a small scale, one or two people rather than a huge group.  Limiting options of who to talk to can create a stronger bond, as if limiting one's palate, in order to know what is truly motivating one's soul.  

With what I create, I tend to maximize my reference points.  I create a mashup of things I have experienced, usually told in the form of a fable created through symbolism of images derived from 90's pop culture.  Perhaps this is me bringing to the forefront the notion of keeping my childhood alive, by subliming memories of contemporary life.  Art can be about breaking free of limits, so my process constantly changes to remove myself from an XY axis and a grid, to constantly build and destroy, to remove anger, hate, and turn it into love.  

This semester I have learned a few things about the art world and art school in specific.  There are a few key tropes that reoccur and navigating them is mostly about the language used to describe them. For example, using the word umwelt for someone's personal bubble; using the term post humanism when someone really means Sci-fi; structuralism for patterns that repeat; anthropocene for the current affect of global warming.  Part of the interchangeability of words to describe these things has to do with the malleability of the ideas themselves.  As we saw with Salvador Dali's study of string theory, different personal views conjure up different worlds.  The study of these worlds leads us on our own personal journeys.  We envelop these concepts and let the future unfold, perhaps we use art as the mechanism to advance human kind.  I always thought of art as some kind of pseudo-science, now I can say that these things are interchangeable, art can be science, theory, personal reflection, fortune telling, and the economy.  The mythology that leads us here today can change time.  

Works Cited

Barbara Ehrlich White, Renoir His Life Art and Letters. 1984. Harry N. Abrams, Inc.  New York

NGA.gov for tony smith's die

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/04/08/t-magazine/iris-van-herpen-designer-interview.html?_r=0

http://blog.metmuseum.org/alexandermcqueen/michelle-olley-voss-diary/

http://daily.redbullmusicacademy.com/2014/09/yuzo-koshiro-interview

The fifth element

[queensdivas]

Garden Party. A Gwil Short

You can thank @filmslutt​ for that cute little moodboard you see below! I asked her to send me a request because I was super bored and then this came up! Don’t ask me how I got this from that from I think it’s sort of cute in a sense. 

I hope everyone is doing okay with what’s going on in the world. Please be careful and just enjoy the fact that we live in the same Universe that the Bohrap boys live in. 

Love you all and enjoy!

Masterlist

I’d say the best advantage of living on an island far up north would be the smell of the North Atlantic Ocean. The people are so friendly, the food is all home cooked and fresh, and it’s super quiet. The worst thing? When you finally head to civilization for a week to spend with your family ya meet a really great guy and now he’s wanting to bring his friends up to meet me! Not that I haven’t met them over facetime and of course I said yes because he wouldn’t stop talking about them and how great they are! I’ve also seen their instagrams, they’re definitely super close with one another!

So. I thought it would be fun if I had a garden party! I’ve busted my butt through the entire summer with the help of Gwil who kept making time out of his super busy schedule to help me with my gardening. Our Scots Bluebell turned out beautifully all around the house, of course the thistles turned out gorgeous. The bellheathers turned a bright purple, my jacobite roses bloomed of course, and finally my dwarf cornel though taking a little longer than usual, turned out great! 

Alright it’s 1:10 and Gwil just told me he just picked them up from the airport. He said there’s going to be a total of eight people he’s bringing tonight. Luckily I’ve got enough room in my big old house to fit everyone. The last ferry usually leaves around eight and driving here around night isn’t always the best. I’ve got plenty of bunkbeds and single beds. 

For an appetizer I’m starting with Partan Bree (which is crab bisque), then two main cuisines of Bangers and Mash along with the second cuisine of course mini scottish pies. And for dessert it’s Cranachan!

One knock came from the back door as it opened for my friend to come and give me a hand with the cooking. You think I would do this all by myself? Of course not. Look, I love multitasking, but when it comes to cooking I’d like to make sure everything is cooked well. 

“How much time do we have Maisy?” Bonnie asked as she carried in some of the groceries I asked her to buy. Of course I invited my best friend. Though he’s met her multiple times when he drove up here, just didn’t want to be alone when they all come up here. 

“Inverness Airport is where everyone is meeting so we got about five hours. I have to start taking apart the crab if you want to start getting the mash ready.” Bonnie nodded as she walked behind the counter. 

“So who's all coming to this party?” Bonnie asked as I started cutting the skin off the crab. 

“Gwil of course. Joe, Ben and his girl sadly can’t remember her name. Rami and Lucy, and another couple Allen and his wife Jessica.” Finishing the first crap as I moved onto the next one. 

“Holy Hell. Didn’t realize you were feeding’ the masses today!” Bonnie laughed as she began peeling the potatoes. 

“Neither did I until a few days ago when he told me they were out and about. But oh well.” I laughed as I stopped peeling for a second to turn on the TV. 

“What are we feeling Bonnie?” I asked her as I scrolled down to the apps. 

“Have you watched Rosemary's baby?” For some odd reason whenever Bonnie and I cook, we just love watching scary movies. Don’t ask me why because we just do! 

“I’ve heard it’s freaky so yes. Hulu?” 

“Netflix.” I nodded as I opened netflix then got the movie started. 

I finished peeling the last crab as the pile of crab meat was sitting there ready to become some delicious bisque. We started watching the movie while beginning to cut up the crab shells. Bonnie and I kept stopping once every few minutes to watch the movie because it’s just so bizzare. Who names their kid Guy? Imagine growing up with your first name being Guy! No offense to those named Guy, but what a poor kid! 

“From the way Guy’s attitude. She blames it on being an actor, but I think that’s just him being an ass hole.” I pointed out as I placed the crab skins apart of the meat to start cutting them apart. 

“So not ALL actors are self entiled ass holes?” 

“Cheeky bitch.” I tossed a piece of crab skin at her as she darted a piece of skinned potato at me. 

“Gwil is much calmer and knows how the industry works. Oh my god her hair!” I got distracted at how big the top of random chicks hair was! It’s all shoved on top! 

“It looks like a popcorn kernel! Oh she’s dead..” We both stopped to start watching again as the old couple came into the scene. They’re like the old version of Barbie and Ken with the amount of pink they were wearing! My phone ringing broke my train of thought as I put down the knife. Why is Gwil trying to facetime me if he’s driving? I placed my phone against the mixing bowl and answered the call. 

“Is that crab?” He asked as I held the crab's dead claw in front of the camera. 

“Why are you holding a crabs claw? Oh my god does Gwil enjoy nipple clamps? Ben owes me money if this is true!” Joe chimed in as I smirked at the camera. When Gwil and Joe were in the Swiss Alps in that golf tournament, he facetimed me during the golf tournament with them driving around the golf course, while singing Material Girl. It Was a sight. 

“No he isn’t into nipple clamps Joe.” I heard him groan as he aimed the phone over to Gwil who was trying to focus on driving, but kept looking out of the corner of his eye towards the phone. 

“What’s for dinner?” He asked as I went back to cutting up the crab skin. 

“For as many people you’re dragging up here, we’re having Partan Bree, Bangers and Mash, Mini Pies, and for dessert you’ll be eating Cranachan!” I smiled as I heard a bunch of moaning for food in his car. 

“Gwil when were you going to tell us she was going to fatten us up!” Lucy giggled as I kept smiling at Gwil. 

“You guys just left the airport?” I asked them as I finished cutting the skin. 

“Yeah we should be up there in about four hours Maisy. Miss you biscuit.” He started to blush as everyone in the car was beginning to awww and chuckle. 

“Miss you too marmalade . Don’t worry I won't embarrass you in front of your friends quite yet. Until you get up here at least. Now let me cook so I can feed everyone!” I told him as he looked away from the road for a second. 

“Okay Maisy. Love you.” 

“Love you to Gwil. Drive safely please!” I sent him a kiss but I heard a certain someone scoff. 

“Wow you’re not gonna say goodbye to me?” The camera turned to Joe as he was making a very large pouty face. 

“Sorry Joe. Goodbye Joe and please make sure my marmalade drives safety.”

“Much better. Bye Maisy!” Joe waved as he hung up the phone as I got back to it. 

“Biscuit? Marmalade? Where the hell do you guys come up with this stuff?” She asked as I shook my head. 

“Super long story. Sort of what happened when we went to that castle in Tain with biscuits and marmalade. Long but funny.” Bonnie nodded as I got a picture from Gwil. It was a self with everyone in the car. Bonnie looked over at Joe and smiled. 

“That Joe guy is kind of cute.” Bonnie commented as she finished peeling all the potatoes. 

“Maybe he’s single.” I commented as I placed the shells into the oven. 

*Four Hours Later*

Bonnie brought out the last chair from the house as I flung the pure white embroidered tablecloth onto the long table. I want to make sure everyone has some space to eat and relax because it gets a little nipply here at nights, being up here on Orkney Island kind of comes with the package. But I love it up here! 

I walked over to the small shed with my boxes full of packed fairy lights so I could hang around the tree branches. We dragged the old dining room table out of the house and put it under the tree. Luckily we’ve got a warm evening with our usual nice breeze. 

“Hey Bonnie! Can you double check the pies for me?” I asked her as I grabbed one of the chairs to stand up on to hang the lights. 

“Maisy! Do we want music playing in the background for tonight?” Reaching up to wrap the first strand on the closest branch. 

“Ummm. Throw on my Harmonium record would ya?” Weird yes. But their music is just so relaxing and perfect for some really good cleaning and cooking music. For the record the movie took a really dark turn real quick and was so weird. But I would definitely watch it again because it went from oh shit to HOLY SHIT! In a span of twenty minutes!

“Reach you!” I had to balance myself on one foot as I got the strand on the tiny little branch. 

“Gotcha!” I cheered as I kept going with the rest of the lights. 

“MAISY!” She screamed from the kitchen as she hung up the next part of the strand. 

“WHAT!”

“WHAT WINE DO WE WANT?” Wine? WINE!? YOU DON’T HAVE WINE WITH SAUSAGE AND MASH! 

“Bonnie! You know better than that! We have all throughout the entire dinner! I got a few bottles in the cellar of that 90 Shilling down there. But just in case they want wine, grab a bottle of Gavi Di Gavi that I have down there, I think it’s been aged for a little while so it should go good with the Bartan Bree at least.” She turned around to go back inside, but then turned back around to stand in the doorway. 

“Pies are almost done, the soup is hot and ready, also they’re here.” Okay good pies are ready AND GWILS HERE!? SHIT! I climbed down from the chair as I fixed my necklace and let my hair down from my clip. 

I began walking towards the side gate but stopped at the back porch to flip on the backyard lights. The fairy lights I hung from the tree lit the table nicely along with the candles that are soon to be lit. I took one last glance down at myself to see that my floral dress was laying nicely, booties were tied and my necklace was fixed. 

Alright. Here we go! 

Opening the side gate as I heard all of them talking amongst each other as they were walking up to the front door. Gwil looked absolutely stunning in his dark green button up, black pants, oh and those dark brown loafers. A beautiful snack! They were walking up to the front door as I walked all the way around front. 

“Well well well. Look at this merry band coming onto my porch.” They all turned towards me as Gwil smiled. He walked down from the front porch to scoop me up in his arms to do a quick spin. Then a quick peck as it’s rude to kiss multiple times in front of your guest. 

“And these are for you?” He stuck a small bouquet of lilies and lavenders. 

“Thank you biscuit.” One quick peck as he placed his arm around my shoulder as we began walking towards the crowd. 

“Those who haven’t had the chance to meet her. This is Maisy Kerr. You already know Joe of course.” I smiled as Joe walked over to give me a quick hug. 

“I know I should be all nice and not rude, but where is your bathroom?” He was trying not to do a pee dance as I also tried not to laugh. 

“Upstairs, second door on the left.” 

“Oh my god thank you!” He rushed inside as I motioned for everyone else to follow inside. Gwil stopped for a moment to sneak in a few more kisses which made me giggle. 

“I’ve missed you so much Maisy! I hope you don’t mind, after I drive them back down to the airport if I stay with you for a few days? London and Bristol have gotten a little old without you and this place is just relaxing.” Not being sarcastic at all, but I love it when he just comes up and stays. 

“You can literally come over whenever you feel like honey. We’ll talk about it after dinner, and have to go meet everyone.” I placed a soft peck on his cheek then walked past him, but then gave his butt a little slap. God I love that tooshie. 

Everyone was standing around the hallway as we walked in then shutting the door. 

“Shoes on our off?” One of them asked as I locked the door. 

“Either or. We’ll be eating outside this evening and having a bonfire, so I would leave them on.” How can you not have an outdoor dinner without a bonfire. Wouldn’t make much sense if we didn’t have one. 

“Maisy this is a lovely home. I’m Lucy by the way.” Oh my god she’s an adorable woman holy crap!

“Lovely to meet you Lucy and thank you. Has been with my family for generations.” Everyone made it outside as Bonnie was tossing a bunch of kindling wood into the fire pit. 

“Aye welcome! The name Bonnie! Hi Gwil!” She waved as Gwil waved back. 

“Please make yourself comfortable and I’ll start bringing out the food in a few moments.” I turned back into the house as Bonnie scurried over to help me. Which then Gwil decided to come inside and join us. 

“How have ya been Gwil.” She got into the fridge to pull out a few bottles of the yale and wine. 

“Oh fine Bonnie. Just been busy with work.” He told her as I gave the bisque one last stir as I heard Joe coming down the stairs. He stopped in the doorway to look at Bonnie for a quick second. 

“Bonnie this is Joe Mazzello. Joe, this is Bonnie Geddes.” They approached each other and shook each other's hand. 

“Mind giving me a hand Gwil.” I pointed to where the bowls were as he began pulling them out. 

“Bonnie, would you mind taking the wine and ale outside. Also light the candles please?” Bonnie snapped away from Joe as she started to take them outside. Joe of course helped her due to the fact that he was already hooked on her. 

“Well that was quick.” He commented as we both high fived each other. I began pouring the bisque into the bowl as he took the ones with the full ones outside. 

I grabbed the last two bowls as everyone was sitting already and opened the wine and ale. There were two empty chairs that sat across from Bonnie and Joe, Ben was sitting next to her and his girlfriend. Allen sat on the end of the table with his wife on his left, then Rami sitting next to his wife, and Lucy sitting by the empty chair. 

I placed Gwils and bowls at the table. He grabbed his from my hand as I sat down in my chair. Pulling my chair in as everyone was continuing to talk. 

“Ben, that's nasty.” Lucy told Ben as he was finishing his cigarette. 

“Just a hobby Lucy. I don’t do it every day, just every other other day.” He put out the cigarette as he wrapped his arm around his lady friend. 

“Ah Maisy this is Ben and his gal pal Olivia Cooke.” She smiled as I waved over to her. 

“Oh and that’s Allen and his wife Jessica. And of course Rami and Lucy down at the end.” 

“Please dig in everyone.” I stood up as I began unscrewing the cork off the wine bottle. It’s a little stuck! Crap! 

“Gwil hold the bottle.” I asked him as he held the base of the bottle as I tried to pull the cork off. 

“It’s not wanting to come out!” I laughed as I kept trying to pull. I finally got it to pop and the cork flew across the lawn. 

“Perfect.” 

“So tell me Maisy. What exactly do you do?” Rami asked as I began filling up my glass. 

“I own the Wetdrumstick Pub here on Finstown and then a pub called Misty Maid in Kirkwall. Well to be fair it’s been in my family for the longest of times, now I just took them over until the next person comes along.” I told Rami as I passed the bottle to Gwil then sitting back down. 

“And I’m just gonna assume that you are all actors along with Gwil here?” Bonnie asked as I took a sip of my wine. They all laughed at each other as I shrugged to Bonnie. 

“And what about you Bonnie?” Joe looked to Bonnie as she took a drink of her ale. 

“A fisherman..er women. Following the dreams of a Scottslady.” She laughed as Joe nodded his head. 

“Maisy this bisque is delicious! What recipe is this?” Jessica asked as I put down my spoon. 

“I’ll have to find it somewhere or write it down for ya.” 

“Does this have milk in it?”” Joe asked as I nodded. He leaned back in his chair as Bonnie looked at him in confusion. 

“Allergic to dairy?” Bonnie asked him as they began their conversation. I turned to Gwil as he had my arm wrapped around my chair. 

“You shaved? Why?” I just realized he didn’t have that gorgeous stubble. Not that he doesn’t look handsome without it cause my god. But it’s always good to add a little extra garlic powder to your spaghetti sauce. 

“It was for the show because apparently Russian men didn’t have facial hair besides the really crazy ones.” Fair enough. 

“Hey listen since you’re staying here for a few days. Would you mind if we went into Thurso and stopped by my favorite bakery? I’ve been craving some of Mr. Monks Bahulu?” 

“Of course. Not checking into the pubs?” 

“I will before we head into Thurso. Only if you don’t mind...biscuit.” He grabbed my right hand to give it a soft kiss. 

“Not at all. Anytime with you is perfect.” We chowed down on the bisque then onto the sausage and mash, then the mini pies. Everyone was reminiscing on old jobs, catching up, and even future productions. I think it’s pretty cool that Rami is playing a Bond villain in the next big Bond movie. Is there a new bond or no? Or is it that one dude, I haven’t been to the movies in a while so I’m not sure whose who anymore. 

“Who's ready for dessert. And does anyone want coffee or tea?” I think I officially stuffed their faces and stomachs nicely. 

“Coffee for me Lucy?” Rami asked as she took a sip of her wine. 

“Coffee please.” 

“Two coffees.” Allen added as I looked over at Bonnie and Joe. 

“So probably just a bunch of coffee then.” They were off in their own world anyhow. 

Gwil and I walked inside the house as I reached into the fridge to pull out the dessert. He looked underneath the foil as I slid over and hid it from him. 

“Help me with the coffee and you’ll get a nice slice for yourself.” I told him as I grabbed my shredded coffee beans to start making the coffee. Gwil snuck up behind me as he wrapped himself around the back of me. His lips began pecking the side of my neck as I began giggling a little bit. 

“Gwil...hehe..Stop. You’re distracting me.” His lips stopped traveling along my neck as I spun around to face him. A large smile was on his face as I placed my hands on his cheeks, then squishing them together. 

“You come up here so much you might as well just move in.” I told him with his cheeks still pushed together. He mumbled something as I let go to work on the coffee. I should have enough mugs for everyone, should probably pop onto Etsy and get some more if I can. 

“So is that a no?” Ten cups of coffee? That should do it. 

“What’s a no? Did you not want coffee cause I have plenty of tea.” I began filling the coffee pot with the hot water as 

“What if I moved in here with you? I know it would be a hassle for work at first and I would be in London or a few days out of the week. But what if I did move in with you?” The hot water began spilling over the pot as I almost dropped it in the sink. Move in? Wait what? What? WHAT!? Move in? Who on earth would want to move in with me? I live so far up north! It’s a super damp winter! No one wants to live in a super damp winter! 

“I’ll take your silence as a no. Too soon I guess.” Well it’s a super damp winter and I’m only available in certain times because I have two pubs to run and barely have the time to see him or anything. Wait he’s an actor! We hardly see each other in the first place because he’s busy traveling the world already!

“I’ll get a key made for ya as soon as I..Gwil?” When I turned around, he was already outside with the dessert with him. Ah crap! I walked out into the doorway as everyone was digging into the dessert. His head popped up with a little disappointment as I shot him a smile. Should be able to get it made in a few days or so, with him staying there it should be rather easy to give him a copy of the key. Not that I ever lock my door because everyone knows not to come on my property. 

“Coffee will be out in just a few moments everyone.”

I think living with him would be rather fun. 

Taglist:

@leah-halliwell92​ @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​ @bonafiderocketqueen​ @dancingcoolcat​ @yourlocalmusicalprostitute​ @johndeaconshands​

[authoressskr]

Write Into My Arms [1]

Characters: f!Reader, James “Bucky” Barnes, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Peter Parker, Hope Van Dyne, Natasha Romanoff, Scott Lang, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Okoye, T’Challa, Shuri, Clint Barton, Happy Hogan, Dr. Strange, Wong, Bruce Banner, Amelina Rodrigez (OFC), with mentions of Thor, Carol Danvers, Rocket Raccoon, Groot, Peter Quill, Gamora, Nebula, Mantis and Drax.

Warnings: Language, Action (in last chapter) and no Beta (just me and Grammerly up in here)  ::  Word Count: 8885  ::  Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

This was written for @jewelofwinter’s Writing Challenge!! I also incorporated a prompt for @jaamesbbarnes + @sgtjbuccky’s D&S’ Milestone Celebration!!

Prompt: “Tin Man lost Y/N.” (@jewelofwinter’s prompt) + “Publicly, I agree. Personally, I think it’s chickenshit.” (D&S’ prompt) Bolded in text below. Prompt #1 will appear in the third part while Prompt #2 appears in the second part. The next two parts will be posted by the end of this week. All three will be linked.

Summary: You’re a small time blog writer who is invited to interview the Avengers. ALL the Avengers. 

Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

Looking around the compound’s living room, you can’t help but openly stare. Everything is expensive, even the doorknobs seem to know their elevated worth.

You’ve circled the room three times so far, each time slower than the last as your keen eyes searching out every minute detail. You’ve been waiting for nearly twenty minutes, which isn’t too much of a bother, and from what you’d heard from other reporters and writers isn’t that long of a wait for Tony Stark. Although your boss said that the article was supposed to cover all of the inhouse Avengers…

Happy, Tony’s chauffeur/bodyguard and right-hand man, had brought you into this room and at this point, your overthinking has begun to wonder if being made to wait here is a diversion so that he can get all the Avengers to clear out. After all, Stark Industries controls most of the press about the Avengers and they don’t do interviews...except Tony and every so often, the good Captain Rogers.

You wonder briefly if watching some YouTube would be extremely unprofessional or just a mild, millennial version of unprofessionalism.

Deciding against it, you sit on the plushest and buttery soft black leather couch, fishing around your large purse for your notebook. Carefully flipping past the first pages, you look over the list of Avengers you’ve compiled - along with basic stats, going over them for the umpteenth time since being assigned this article. And, being the person you are, you had arranged them by age, willingness to talk to you, and then on difficulty on opening up for the story.

Fishing out a pen, you make a few last-minute notes, only to feel that tell-tale prickle at the back of your neck alerts you to the three figures lingering in the large entryway that leads towards a hallway. You pop up, smoothing out your dress bottom nervously.

“Oh! Hello. I’m Y/N, writer for Undefined Muses. I’m, uh, here to interview you?”

“You don’t seem to know if you are or not,” Hawkeye, Clint Barton, says with a big smile - the last yellow traces of a bruise fading on his left cheek.

“I wasn’t sure who all had agreed to participate - and I don’t want to force anyone to do if they aren’t interested.”

“Normally, the reporters are kind of rabid about these kinds of interviews,” Natasha replies smoothly, moving into the room and perching on the arm of an oversized loveseat. She’s dressed impeccably, looking like a glamorous movie star from the thirties, with high waist black dress pants and a dark blue silk shirt with tiny red roses dotted all over.

“Well, my boss sent me because I’m,” You pause, searching for the right word. “Demure.”

“I honestly was waiting for you to say ‘unrabid’.” Clint chuckles out, tossing himself into the loveseat that Natasha is perched on directly across from where you stand.

“I’m not sure what writer would use the word ‘unrabid’. I’m also 90% sure that isn’t a word.”

“Only 90%?” Natasha queries, smiling so knowingly it makes you a little wary.

“Well, he said it, so thus it has been made a word. But you won’t find it in a dictionary. So yes, 90%.”

The large brunet, whom you knew as James Barnes, still stood by the hallway they must have come from, watching the interactions with storm blue eyes. Your shoulders tighten, straightening as you realize that they’d sent all the previous assassins in first. Quite the unsettling welcome wagon… Wait. Was this a weird sort of game? Like chicken? You very nearly chuckle, if that’s the case, because little did these people know you weren’t the bravest person - content with hiding behind your words, telling others amazing and heart wrenching stories.

“Will you all be participating?” You finally manage to get out with a smile without nerves making it forced.

“They will,” Comes the answer from behind you - Tony Stark himself, Iron Man in the flesh, says with a confidence you’d only seen on tv. “Miss Y/L/N. So glad you could make it. Plane ride enjoyable?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you so much for the use of your plane.” He waves a hand as he flashes a megawatt smile.

“No problem. No problem at all. Now, I know they’ve probably introduced themselves but that is Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, and one of the 100 plus pair, Bucky Barnes.”

“Nice to meet you all,” They all nod as Tony rubs his hands together then claps.

“Now, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying, I’ll have Happy drop your luggage in there while I show you around -”

“I’m sorry - uh, staying?” You tilt your head a tad to the left, blinking at the illustrious Mr. Stark.

“Yes. Of course, you’ll be staying here in the compound. Rhodey, Steve, and Sam are headed home as we speak, should be here sometime early tonight. Wanda and Vision are on their way back, they were having brunch at a nearby vineyard. Oh, and Thor, the Guardians of the Galaxy, and Captain Danvers should be in - oh, I don’t know - maybe 3 or 4 days. Everyone else is on site.” Logically, you know your mouth is open. You also know you should close it, but the shock…

Every. Single. Avenger.

Fuck.

“Um, I just...Sir, I didn’t mean...I only just brought...ALL OF THEM??”

“To answer your oh so eloquent questions, I did tell your boss I would be getting you as many as possible. I would have thought Mrs. Rodrigez, was it?, would have conveyed the seriousness,” He gives a little huff, smile firmly in place. “Anyhow, you’ll manage. FRIDAY will have a list of shops that will deliver here - we have a tab, just feel free to add to it.”

“Sir -”

“Tony,” He corrects.

“Tony. I will manage my own clothes, thank you. My boss did stress the importance of this interview block. I was told, however, that this was by choice for the Avengers or Stark Industries staff. Not that you’d make them come from outer space to be riddled with questions. And, Tony, I honestly don’t know why our little site was chosen to write these interviews to begin with, sir. How do you even know who I am…” You were so focused on Tony that you hadn’t realized that Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Pepper Potts (Stark?), Bruce Banner, Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne and a man of Asian descent you couldn’t place had entered the room. Tony moves closer, peering over the couch and down into your purse, finger pulling at one of the edges to see into it.

“Well, that’s simple. I asked for you.” Eyebrows shoot upward in shock before your forehead furrows. “See, Pep read a piece you did on library and book importance - specifically in young and all school-age children. It was lying around, so I read it. And you know what? I liked the emotion. The thoughtfulness behind it. Every word was picked with such care - constructed to paint a picture. And that’s what I want you to do for us.” He gestures for you to sit, which you give a gentle shake of your head at and takes up the seat you’d been in before. He leans forward, one elbow balanced on his knee as he looks up at you. “We get good press, bad press too, but I want people to see the big picture. We’re a team. We’re a family. We sacrifice a lot to be able to do what we do. Paint that picture for me.” The spell Tony seemed to have cast on you raised and you look around to see the whole room staring at you, waiting.

You swallow hard and nod a couple of times. “I’ll do my best, Tony.” He rises and gives a nod of his own, flashing you a smile tinged with sadness that he quickly hides.

“Good. Good. Let’s get you into a guest room and then the tour. But first, some more introductions.”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

The voice in your room, in all the building you suppose, FRIDAY as she introduced herself, announced that dinner would be casual dress and served in an hour. Tony had been a gracious host, informing you he’d canceled your room at the winery - that, coincidentally, Wanda and Vision had been having brunch at earlier - before sashaying around the compound with Pepper, Scott, and Hope all in tow like a little tour group. Tony dutifully recited when it was built, remodeled, rebuilt. The layout and their functions. He adds little tidbits about visiting when he was little, making everything a little more real for you. You walk beside him, with him sometimes latching onto your elbow as you talk softly into your recorder, reminding yourself to get pictures of certain areas later with your camera.

It had been nice, Scott was witty and said aloud most of the smart ass comments you’d been thinking. Pepper kept Tony focused and Hope spent as much time as you did asking questions. The tour of the basic facilities ended back where it had begun in the living room, rain beginning to splatter against the massive wall of windows to your left.

You’d managed to find your way back to the room, 5th on the right, to find your overnight bag sitting on the end of the bed next to a plush white robe and a note from Tony stating he’d still asked for the stores to bring over things for you to pick out tomorrow and not to bother fighting him on it. Kicking off your shoes, you’d wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling window in your room to watch the raindrops slide down the glass, tucking your legs under you as you sat on the very soft, thick carpet with your notebook and pen.

Amelina, your boss and best friend, had bought you a gray, faux-leather sunflower embossed one to butter you up. Your little addiction and she knew it. You’d accepted the notebook and the assignment with little hesitation. Only to look at the notebook lying on your desk later and think ‘What the hell have I just done?!’

The first page is an outline of what Amelina had said she wanted from the articles (she ideally wanted to break them into separate pieces with each Avenger getting their own spotlight), your notes on the Avengers from digging online and the preliminary dates the article, or articles, would be posted on the site. Taking a deep breath you flip past the Avengers you’d already made lists for, adding the Guardians, Captain Danvers, Doctor Stranger, Wong (whom you’d met earlier), adding Scott and Hope as well, since they are West Coast-based and you had a 50/50 chance of actually interviewing them initially.

Your recorder would hold the interviews, your verbal notes and memos to take pictures of certain locations...but your gray notebook, that was for your notes and thoughts on their habits, likes and dislikes based on observation, how they interact with you, and how they interact with each other.

The alarm on your phone drags you away from writing a few more observations on the page designated for Pepper Potts, letting you know that you need to get up and changed for dinner. You plug your recorder in to download the tour from earlier while you change and freshen up your hair and makeup.

Your hopping on one foot, trying to shove your foot into the stupid pump when your alarm goes off again. Tossing yourself onto the end of the bed, you unplug your recorder and wiggle your foot into the pump better before heading out the door. You shove the recorder into the pocket of your skirt, making your way down the hall when the intro to “7 Rings” begins playing from the phone in your hand. With a quick swipe you answer, stopping almost halfway down the hall.

“Yes?”

“Is that any way to answer the phone?”

“It is when I’m on my way to dinner and your long-winded call could make me late.”

“Harsh, dude, harsh.” Amelina barely takes a breath before continuing. “So, whatcha got so far?”

“First of all, that isn’t how I work. How long have you known me, Lina? By the way, I’m mad at you.”

“What for?”

“You didn’t tell me I’d be staying here or that I’d be here for two weeks. I looked like an idiot in front of Tony Freaking Stark and Pepper Freaking Potts!” You hiss into the phone, tapping your foot in irritation as she chuckles on the other end of the line.

“Sorry! I honestly didn’t know how long you’d be staying -”

“Well, it’s nice that you let me know that!”

“Mr. Stark just asked how long he could have you on loan. I said a max of three weeks.”

“Oh my god, Amelina,” you groan, letting your head drop forward as you repeat in your head to breathe.

“You are such a -”

“You’re being a real bitch. I would have packed. I would have been prepared. But nooooo! Now I’m standing in a hallway wishing that your brother’s new puppy would pee in your expensive shoes!”

“Now that’s just mean!”

“I’m hanging up now. May Jedi maul all the shoes you hold dear.” You jab your thumb against the screen before taking a deep breath and continuing your trek to the living room.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Apparently ‘casual’ at the Avengers compound is a broad term. Clint is sporting a sweatshirt with the SHIELD logo emblazoned on the front with black jogging pants and loafers. Steve has a dark blue shirt that is miraculously being held together by mere buttons, which you’re afraid if he strains, will lose their valiant efforts to keep his shirt together. His is paired with khakis and the same loafers as Clint, which amuses you for some unknown reason. Sam Wilson has a red t-shirt with a black blazer over it, dark gray jeans and some well-worn boots. As you finish taking in appearances, standing like a wallflower half-hidden by the hallway arch still, you can’t help but wonder if you should pinch yourself to see if this was reality.

Sam spots you first, or is the first to acknowledge it, and makes his way over with a friendly smile painted on his face.

“I’m Sam Wilson, nice to meet you.” His hand extends and nearly swallows your own before giving it a firm shake. You liked that. He wasn’t treating you as delicate. You detested when men did that when shaking hands with women…

“Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you as well.”

“Heard Tony gave you the tour.” He’s got a smirk now, eyes bright and teasing.

“Oh yeah. He offered to let me try out a suit - but only when Pepper and Steve weren’t around.”

“Killjoys,” Sam gives a serious shake of his head, chuckling as FRIDAY announces dinner is ready to be served. “Let’s get you to dinner. We’re having it in the mess hall once everyone gets here - tonight we can still have it in the actual dining room.” He offers his arm, guiding you out of the living area. “You met Bucky, right?” You give a nod, very aware the aforementioned is right behind the two of you. “His article will be the shortest. Dude’s damn near a mute unless he’s lecturing Steve, so I wish you good luck on interviewing him.”

“And here I thought that your odd friendship was all made up…” You answer slyly, hearing a snort of laughter behind you - unsure if it belongs to Steve or Bucky.

“Hey Cap, you meet the reporter?” Sam flashes you a smile as he turns the two of you around, bringing you to a hard stop so you don’t ram into the super-soldier.

“Steve Rogers, miss.” He offers his hand and gives yours a firm shake, his blue eyes holding a wariness you weren’t expecting. Captain America, wary of you? Doesn’t inspire a lot of hope in you about this whole experience…

“Y/N Y/L/N, sir.”

“Sit! Sit!” Tony orders jovially from down the table before pointing to the man at his right. “Rhodey. War Machine. Liar extraordinaire. I may need to sit in to make sure he gets all the facts straight.”

“Don’t listen to Mr. Stank over here, ma’am.”

“Unfortunately, that’s why I’m here Mr. Rhodes.” Steve pulls out your chair for you, waiting until your seated to take his seat to your left. “Thank you.”

“I think we should all get to know each other,” Tony starts, only for Rhodey to roll his eyes and Bruce to scoff from the other end of the long table.

“May I record?” You ask, watching everyone sort of tense and shuffle.

“Of course!” Tony answers as you withdraw the recorder, clicking it on and sitting it beside your plate.

“I think it’s only fair since I’ll be bothering all of you for the next two or so weeks, that you can ask me whatever you’d like as well.”

“That’s fair,” Dr. Strange concedes from his spot to your right.

“Very fair, I think,” Scott agrees, giving you a big comforting smile.

“Okay, well let’s start with where you were born.” A handful of waiters come in, setting bowls and plates onto the tabletop before disappearing.

“Family style,” Pepper clarifies before looking expectantly to you.

“I was born in California. But moved to Seattle when I was little, maybe about 3. Right before I started kindergarten we moved back to California. Been there ever since.”

“And your business?” Pepper asks, dishing some green beans onto her plate.

“It’s more Amelina’s than mine. We’re partners in the site, but I do the money part, well I prep it for the accountant - and most of the writing - and she does the schmoozing, bossing around, the sports articles and the keeping up of the site. So she’s doing the lion’s share.”

“I would think you break even,” Hope pipes up. “Well, what with you having to travel and compile the information and then write it out. Plus anything to do with money is usually more stressful. Do you both hire and fire?”

“Unfortunately, yes. We tried to hire a sports writer after we’d had the site for a year, but it didn’t work out...”

“Wait. Wait. Was it that guy that kept inserting himself into the story?” Sam laughs out, peeking around Bucky who is beside Steve. You bite back a groan.

“Yes.”

“Bucky, Rhodey - it’s that article I sent you saying that Babe Ruth was only half the baseball player he could have been and that the writer could’ve been the next Bambino.” Rhodey is at least trying not to laugh, but you can see Bucky’s shoulders shaking as you lean backward in your chair.

“That was a huge mistake. All of his work we reviewed before hiring was impeccable. I checked to make sure it wasn’t plagiarized and we called all of his references. Apparently, he’d had some experience in coding and websites, so after he handed in his first final draft, he went in an hour after Amelina posted it, and changed it. We got so many emails - we were getting all these calls... Brian up and disappeared after he did that. To this date, still haven’t had as much traffic on the site as that day.”

“Brian sounds like a douche,” Wanda mutters with a smile, taking a sip from her wine glass. You look down at your plate, finding it overflowing with more food than you’d put on there. You raise an eyebrow at Steve, who just shrugs and puts a forkful of potato salad in his mouth with a smile.

“Yeah. I blacklisted him.”

“Blacklisted how?” Clint manages around a mouthful of bread.

“Oh, um, well I emailed almost every single media outlet in California, Washington, Oregon, and Nevada. Then I asked them to forward it to their parent stations or owners. So basically, after a year of emailing people, most blogs, newspapers, tv stations, circulars, and YouTube hosts in California to Kentucky know not to deal with anyone going by his name. I helped a reporter from Pennsylvania with her story, and she began emailing people on the East Coast about it. All emails included his picture too, just in case he went by another name.”

“Effective. A bit ruthless.” Vision is seated between Wanda and Rhodey, nodding in approval.

“No! Not ruthless!” You defend, voice rising a little before the heat rises in your neck and cheeks. “Sorry. I just didn’t want anyone to get dinged as we did. We had to say a lot of apologies and lost a lot of work because of his pointless self-involved rant. And I mean, who goes after Babe Ruth?”

“Balls but no brains,” Scott adds, the two of you nodding. He points his fork at your plate. “Eat.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“That’s what you’re here for.” Tony chuckles out.

“What do you guys do in times like these? When there aren’t aliens or Loki or HYDRA? Like a big spa day for all of you guys? Karaoke?”

“To be honest,” Natasha begins. “There aren’t a lot of days like this when we are all free at the same time. But honestly, it’s more watching and waiting than action and aliens.”

“Kind of miss SHIELD to kind of take care of the day to day bad guy cartel and mafia stuff?” You manage around a mouthful of pasta. Sweet Jesus, it was decadent and cheesy.

“Sometimes I miss the help,” Clint admits.

“What Clint means is that he misses telling people what to do.” Sam teases, tossing a bread roll at him across the table, which Clint catches without even looking away from you.

“Hey! I didn’t tell people what to do. They just did it.”

“Did you buy a bar just to tear it down, Tony?” Tony smiles around a forkful of steak.

“Yes. Yes, I did. Ross just rubs me the wrong way.”

“To be fair, I think he rubs everyone the wrong way.”

“You’ve met him?” Steve sounds surprised, eyebrows raised in what you hope is astonishment.

“Unfortunately. I was in college and had to write a piece on something or someone whom you don’t agree with. Now I am all for soldiers but upper management sucks in the military, no offense Mr. Rhodes. But, everywhere, really... I just think the old guys in Congress and equally old guys in the upper ranks are calling the shots on things they shouldn’t be interfering in, as far as college me was concerned. Ross irritated me for the simple reason that he was the smartest person in the room and no matter what I said, what facts I had, what questions I asked, I would always be wrong. Never disliked being called ‘sweetheart’ so much in my life. Hard to have a conversation with the other side when they talk to you like that. Plus, I got a D on that paper, so he sucks in my book.”

“I told him to call me if he needed help. Then I left him on hold. In my own defense, I did warn him earlier I did like to watch the light blink.” Rhodey snorts into his glass at Tony’s admission.

“Like a tiny Christmas light of joy.” Steve comments, leaning back in his chair with a smile.

You shove a forkful of green beans into your mouth, giving a little sigh at how damn good it tasted before spearing a few more and eating those as Scott launches into the tale of him, Cassie, Luis and his ex-wife’s husband all hanging Christmas lights - only for the new husband to find he’d rewired and programmed them to blink in super slow motion with the fastest Christmas songs he could find and vice versa. And every 9 hours and 45 minutes, it played La Cucaracha, perfectly in time with the lights. There are a few chuckles around the table, but you’re laughing pretty damn hard.

“That’s brilliant actually! The deviousness lies in the amount of annoying that they could take. Having to time your exit must have been a bitch.”

“He and one of his buddies took it all down, bought new lights and hung those up. Cassie told me she missed hearing the Chipmunks, so I remotely programmed a timer so it would play the Christmas Don’t Be Late song right before her bedtime.”

“Cassie sounds like a wonderful girl. And very lucky to have you for her father.” Scott looks flustered but gives you the brightest smile before looking down at his empty plate.

“Th-thank you.”

“Of course. Do you guys do Netflix around here? Movie night?”

“Your mind is everywhere…” Hope says with a grin. “That’s good.”

“And to answer your question - yes. We have Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime…” Sam trails off as the waiters reappear, clearing the table only to return seconds later with plates of beautiful personal assorted desserts. If this was how they ate, you’d hate to see their exercise regime. Oh god, you hoped you weren’t expected to work out with them...

“I was just wondering how you all decide on a show. Do Steve and Bucky have lists? Like are you all working through AFI’s 100 Greatest Movies? I think I’ve only seen 20 of them. Do you all binge shows together?”

“Pep started a rotation. So if it’s your Sunday night and you’re in the compound or tower, then you pick the movie or show. If you aren’t here, it goes to the next person on the list.”

“Sometimes after a mission, it’s usually just decided to watch tv shows just cause we all sort of zone out,” Steve whispers after Tony’s answer, taking a big scoop of his parfait.

“We’ve never been invited,” Wong pipes up, frowning at Tony.

“Oh, I invited both you and Strange right after Pepper made the schedule. If Strange didn’t relay that…” Dr. Strange just rolls his eyes.

“I mentioned it.”

“You didn’t say it was a regular occurrence.” Wong huffs out before biting into a ladyfinger.

“Like an old married couple,” Clint chuckles out, his desserts all gone as he leans contentedly back in his chair. You give your head a small shake at their exchange before reaching to stop your recorder.

“Well, thank you so much for that delicious meal. And thank you for letting me record. I hope I get less awkward as this goes on.”

“This was awkward?” Wanda raises an eyebrow, making you fiddle with the recorder before tucking it into your pocket.

“Okay, well, um then it will get more awkward before it gets less awkward.” You all rise, pushing in your chairs before wandering out of the dining room and back towards the living areas.

“You’ll find out we’re all awkward. Well, except me.” You nod seriously at Tony’s words, managing to see Bucky roll his eyes at Tony’s words. Huh. Who knew… “Nightcap?”

“Oh, no. Thank you. I’m so full I don’t think I could even manage that.”

“Then we’ll say goodnight.” A chorus of goodnights echoes around the large living room.

“Goodnight everyone.”

You totter off to your room, cursing the fact that you’re so sleepy right now. After washing your face, brushing your teeth and changing into your pajamas, you shuffle down under the covers.

“Well, that wasn’t the most awkward or silent dinner I’ve ever been to…” You mutter before sleep drags you under.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

In the morning, you wake up earlier than you usually tend to, sitting on the floor in your pajamas in front of the rain-splattered window with your headphones on - going over the recordings, transcribing them and making notes in your dotted notebook, since it better served to add afterthoughts to. Not the nice orderly layout of your new notebook. And you’re so involved in listening and typing, snatching up the notebook beside you to jot down memos, that you don’t hear Steve and Tony calling your name and you sure as hell don’t hear them enter.

The scream accounts for that, Bucky and Sam barrelling through your door as you look up at Steve and Tony with wide eyes, shoving your headphones off.

“We’re sorry.” Tony barely restrains a chuckle. “I’m sorry. I had FRIDAY see if you were awake, then came to get you for breakfast, but,” He laughs now, the skin by his eyes crinkling. “You didn’t answer.”

“Maybe we should think about a different system!” You blurt as you stare up at the four men.

“Yes. Definitely,” Tony chuckles. “Next time I’ll have FRIDAY blink the lights to alert you.”

“Thank you!”

“Our pleasure.” Steve grins out, extending a hand.

“No, I’m fine here, thanks.” Steve shrugs, the smile not disappearing.

“Well, we’ll leave you to get dressed for breakfast. The shops are due to arrive after breakfast for you to pick some more clothes for your stay. Sam has also requested to be your first interview.” Sam winks at you from Cap’s left, sporting a wide smile as Bucky’s gaze goes from Sam to you.

“Thanks again.” You peer around Steve. “And thank you two for coming so quickly.”

“Anytime, Y/N.” Sam delivers smoothly, Bucky rolling his eyes before making a swift exit. The other three leave with smiles on their faces.

It takes you several minutes to realize you were in your pajamas; a worn and oversized ‘It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown’ shirt paired with sleep shorts that could barely be seen peeking under the hem of your shirt.

“Jeez…” You groan, rubbing a hand over your face before closing the laptop and tossing your notebooks on the bed.

Ten minutes later you have your teeth brushed and you’re dressed in adequate attire, shuffling nervously into the kitchen area on the other side of the bar in the living room. Clint and Bucky are cooking, Wanda weaving between the two expertly. You slip in the seat next to Hope, her hair in a ponytail and dressed in workout clothes.

“How long has everyone been up?” You whisper-ask, setting your recorder and notebook beside the empty plate that Natasha sets in front of you with a small smile. You return it as Hope cuts her pancake which is riddled with syrup, fruit and whipped cream.

“We all did a workout before breakfast,” She puts a big bite of sugar-laden pancake in her mouth, “Speeds up your metabolism.”

“Where’s Scott?”

“Here.” He mutters, slipping into the seat on the other side of Hope.

“Not a morning person?”

“I enjoy my sleep.”

“Thank god. Me too. Under normal circumstances.”

“Yes,” A new voice pipes up from the other side of the room, making you lean back to see who it is. “We heard about the intrusion this morning.”

“Holy - Princess Shuri!” After nearly tripping trying to slither out of your stool, you manage to get upright and extend a hand. “So lovely to meet you.”

“Thank you. It is lovely to meet you as well. I read your articles after Tony mentioned you were selected to do the interviews, and I must say that when you do scientific articles, there is a very nice flow and imagery that one does not usually get.”

“Thank you! I’m sure whoever I’ve interviewed in the science community doesn’t care for all the questions I have after the interview, so I’m glad that it reads well to a genius.”

“You will just make her head bigger, Miss Y/L/N.”

“King T’Challa, wonderful to meet you.” You breathe a deep breath of relief as he extends his hand, giving it a firm shake with a warm smile.

“Wonderful to meet you as well. Please sit, you must keep your strength up if you are to deal with all of us.” There is mischief in his eyes, the twinkle of a man temporarily unburdened.

“That bad?”

“Wait ‘til the Guardians are here!” A male voice pipes up, followed by a tossing sound and a huffed “Sorry!”

“Peter Parker, ma’am.” Your eyebrows shoot up as you automatically stick out your hand.

“Spider-Man,” Tony supplies as he walks by with a bowl of oatmeal. Honestly, your only thought is that he’s a baby and should be protected at all cost.

“Yeah, I think I saw a post on Instagram about someone in New York making Spider-Man ice creams...So you’re the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?” Peter blushes, withdrawing his hand and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t worry, kid. Pep had her sign contracts before she even came. She can’t reveal your identity.”

“Oh. Okay then.” His smile brightens at least a hundred watts. “Did you eat yet? Mr. Barnes makes the best pancakes!”

“Does he now?” Bucky’s back is to you, so you can’t see his expression, but there are already two hot pancakes setting on your plate next to several pieces of bacon. “I’m going to gain so much weight while I’m here…” You sigh, actually not the least bit bothered by it once you bite into the pancake, it’s buttery soft fluff filling your mouth, the second bite revealing a tiny melted chocolate chip to add to the deliciousness. Flipping open your notebook, you scribble down a note: Bucky Barnes = wonderful pancakes. Peter sees it and ducks his head as he takes his plate over to where Shuri is sitting, the two of them bent over a tablet when you glance over your shoulder.

Everything is terribly domestic. Normal.

And you want them to enjoy it. Cause honestly, after all that’s happened, they truly deserve a little peace and camaraderie.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

”Okay, so is this alright?” You ask, settling a little more into the plush blood-red chair in Sam’s bedroom, his desk to your right littered with your notebook, your phone, the recorder, and several pens.

“Great. I’m good to go.” You pick up the recorder, clicking it on with a nervous smile directed at Sam before you began.

“Interview One: Sam Wilson, known as Falcon. Okay, Sam, please tell me a little about yourself?”

“What would you like to know?”

“Let’s just start with the basics - like speed dating.”

“I’ve never been speed dating.”

“Well, aren’t we the lucky one?”

“Wait - you’ve been speed dating?”

“Unfortunately. It was for an article but nothing really was romantic or fun about asking the same questions of men who aren’t looking you in the eye.”

“Don’t gotta worry about that here. Our mamas all raised us right.”

“Noted. Alright, so I’ll ask the nice fluffy questions first.”

“Working our way up to the heavy hitter ones.”

“Exactly. What’s your favorite thing to do in New York, besides save it? What was your childhood dream job? Favorite Disney movie? How do you like your coffee?”

“Eat. Man, I love food. They have a little gumbo place in Harlem,” He kisses the tips of his fingers. “Best Southern food up here. As for my childhood dream job - man, I love birds. I wanted to train raptors, rehabilitate them...or I wanted to be a chef ‘cause I enjoy food. All kinds. Man, I haven’t seen a Disney movie in ye -- well, that’s not true because Spider-Nerd made us watch Toy Story 4 the other day...but probably a tie between Fantasia and The Rescuers. And coffee? That I take black with room so I can add cream and three sugars.”

“Good memory skills. Want more difficult ones now?”

“Oh yeah, I’m ready,” He rubs his hands together with a smile spreading quickly across his face.

“If Stark does a superhero calendar, which month do you want and what are you wearing for it?” His laughter is loud and boisterous, his hands braced on his knees before looking at you.

“Whew - went right for it, didn’t you? Are you asking everyone this question? Can I be there when you ask Cap and Bucky? I bet you twenty bucks that Tony says he’s thought of it before and he wants December cause of the gift he is.” You lean over and make a note of it in your notebook.

“I’ll take that bet. I counter with he doesn’t want to do one but he’d like to be July.” He extends his hand and you shake it firmly, mustering up a serious expression as you did so before settling in to wait for his answer.

“Man, okay. Uh, I think I’d like to be August. Not as hot but not cold either, with those pre-fall feelings. And I’m getting the tightest red shirt I own, along with my favorite pair of jeans. But I could be persuaded to dress sexier - nice fitted suit and tie.”

“Why’d you join the Air Force?”

“I just wanted to help people. And I wanted to see the world. My mom was okay with it since she figured the Air Force weren’t the first to deploy and that I’d be mostly out of harm’s way. But I enjoyed the regimen, the camaraderie I had with the other guys. But when my wingman, my partner Riley, died -- you, you know I just didn’t want to be apart of that anymore after that. I decided I’d get more out of life if I helped other soldiers deal with their problems.” He pauses, searching your face for something before continuing. “I met Steve one day when we were both out running. I knew who he was, but I also knew he was just like any other soldier who had come home and was looking to adjust - looking to find his place.”

“So you did what came naturally - you offered a sympathetic ear and some words for him to think on.”

“Yep. And, honestly, I enjoyed getting to know Steve Rogers. I think we have a lot in common, just morals and being a good soldier, but it’s more important to be a better man than all of that.”

“You really admire him.”

“Of course I do. He’s my best friend. I wouldn’t trade what I had to go through - what we all had to go through - to have it done any other way. I mean, it was brutal in some places, but I’d do it all again -- I sure as hell don’t want to, but I would.”

“May I ask why you chose to follow Steve instead of, say, Col. Rhodes? Both military, both having friends who sort of go rogue, both just wanting to do the right thing…”

“Rhodey and I are good friends, don’t get me wrong. But he had a lot on his plate: The military. Ross. Tony. Still dealing with the fallout of SHIELD in the upper ranks. I would follow Rhodey for a lot of things, but I won’t fight against any of the other Avengers again unless they’re mind-controlled or some shit.”

“Peanut butter and jelly or ham and cheese?” You ask softly, giving him a kind smile.

“Peanut butter and jelly.” He says with his own soft smile.

“Can I pet Redwing?” He perks up at that question.

“Yeah, come on, I’ll show him to you.”

“Maybe the suit too?” You tease, gathering up your notebook and phone, shoving the latter into your pocket before the extra pens you’d brought got shoved right along in there. You carefully pick up the recorder, holding it aloft as Sam holds open his bedroom door.

Once you’ve petted Redwing, letting Sam fly it around you. Luckily you were smart enough to stop at your room first for your camera, most of the time focusing on the light in Sam’s eyes as he looks at his little buddy before Steve and Clint come into the hanger, Clint playfully throwing a few rocks as Redwing dodges them, the three of them joking as they stand in a semi-circle and watch. All the while you watch them through the lens, happily snapping pictures before you notice Bucky leaning against the hangar door a handful of feet away. He looks like he’s a model, a small smile on his face that’s half turned away from you with one hand - his metal hand - tucked into the pocket of his black, worn-looking jacket. You snap a few pictures before he turns his head towards you, the smile disappearing. You snap a picture anyway before lowering the lens and smiling as warmly at him as you can. He gives a little nod before pushing off the door and disappearing around the corner.

Clint drags you to the archery range after that, carefully digging through his arrows as he answers question after question.

“Okay, Clint, last one: If Stark does a superhero calendar, which month do you want and what are you wearing for it?” Clint snickers, his shoulders gently moving.

“Really? Well, alright then. I think I’d like to be January. And I think I want to be dressed in a velvet eggplant jacket with a black shirt and some black underwear.” You nearly snort when he wiggles his eyebrows and gives you a lazy smile, twirling an arrow.

“Boxers? Briefs? Thong?”

“I think some nice fitting briefs. Don’t want to make too many people jealous if I bust out my thong…”

“I certainly learned a whole lot about you, so thank you for that, Clint.”

“Anytime, sweet cheeks. Anytime.” He leads you back to the living room for your last interview of the morning before you all break for lunch. “Wanda! I got your girl here!” Wanda is standing by the hallway, a cup in each hand with a smile gracing her too-pretty face. She gestures with her head, her red hair swinging slightly. Clint doesn’t let you go initially, pushing his cheek closer to you.

“Alright, alright, Mr. Sweet cheeks.” You concede, kissing his cheek before watching him saunter past the others, tossing himself down onto the couch beside Scott with a chuckle.

“Good luck!” Sam hollers, making Wanda glare at him for a second before you follow her down the hall.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Wanda is teaching you a few words in Romanian when you emerge from her room for lunch.

Lunch is already laid out as you repeat “Nu, mulţumesc” until she nods.

“And that means?”

“No, Thank you.” You answer obediently.

“Now, combine everything.”

“Ce fasi! Mici sărutări pentru tine în această după-amiază. Nu, mulțumesc. Aș prefera să fac un tort.” [Little kisses to you all this afternoon. No, thank you. I'd rather have a cake.]

Bucky and Natasha shake their heads with a smile.

“And that means?”

“What are you doing? Little kisses to you all this afternoon. No, thank you. I’d rather have a cake.” Wanda chuckles out, giving your arm a loving pat.

“It was something my mother always said to my father. He said little kisses to us all and she said she would rather have cake. Y/N said it beautifully. Very naturally.”

“I am a wonderful parrot.” You smile out before Tony pokes his head in and whistles.

“Lunch!”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Bruce’s interview after lunch is filled with long pauses, his answers thought out and sometimes not what you expected. He takes you through his lab and then he suggests a short jaunt around the garden to finish the interview. When he excuses himself, you stay in the French-style garden, snapping a few scenic pictures and unwinding a bit from the interviews of today.

With four down, you’re feeling pretty perky about the whole series, trying not to think about the 25 or 26 more interviews you needed to do. Wandering through, your fingertips brushing over the perfectly trimmed hedges before spotting a few wild sunflowers towards the path leading into the woods. Carefully kneeling you take a picture, frowning as it’s just not quite right. You settle on your belly, one foot rising into the air as you refocus the camera and nail the picture you wanted!

You don’t even realize that Bucky is taking your picture as you grin at your camera, entirely too pleased with your results before you regain your footing and trek back to the compound.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

You shoot for six interviews the next day, just trying to get them done before the Guardians, Thor and Captain Danvers arrive...Tony having casually mentioned recording a video group interview of sorts before you left. Which didn’t stress you out at all.

Not.

Hope’s interview was witty and broadening...how she described quantum physics (which just led to more questions) was outstanding.

Scott’s was quick-witted, dry and peppered with his pretty broad knowledge of electrical engineering, Captain America, and songs from the 80s. He was very open about his conviction and time in prison, his decision to be ankle monitored to be with his daughter, and how he feels all of this may affect her in the future. He’s an achingly good person and you add him to your “Protect At All Costs” mental list you’ve started.

Steve is stiff. He doesn’t see the humor in your calendar question (you have to show him the Australian firefighter one with the baby animals for reference) to which he begrudgingly requests the month of May and says a casual suit with flowers in lieu of a pocket square. You suggest him sitting slightly towards a camera, painting a field full of flowers...he seems to like the idea and it makes him relax a little - and you’ll have to thank Sam for that tidbit of information he’d given you. You ask Steve a lot about his life before Captain America, how he thinks it would have gone differently if Dr. Erskine had lived, and what he initially liked about the modern world. He tells you about art school and Bucky, getting beat up on a near regular basis in alleys all over Brooklyn, how he discovered Mr. Rogers’ TV show early one afternoon after moving into the compound.

Vision, on the other hand, doesn’t have a lot of life experience to draw upon but he’s a wealth of knowledge. He talks about JARVIS and ULTRON, the differences between the two of them and Tony, he talks about how DUM-E knows who he is and how loyal he is to Tony. He then shows you who DUM-E is, the bot jerkily “shaking” your hand as you marvel over how not just Tony has evolved but his creations as well. Do you coo how smart and handy the robot it? Of course. But it’s worth it to see the robot nodding as you talk about how smart his dad is. DUM-E then gives you a tiny circuit board before you leave, Vision remarking that he likes you very much to have done so. You scribble down a note to ask Tony if that’s okay that you have that.

Peter is your last interview before dinner, and holy cow, everyone in the compound is a fucking genius. Peter tells you about his web fluid, the neighborhood where he’s grown up, and it’s clear how much he admires Tony from how reverently he speaks. Their relationship, you notice, is a little more parent/child than a mentor/mentee relationship. It’s adorable with a tinge of awkward. Peter shows you pictures he’s taken swinging all over New York and you show him where he can get a Spider-Man ice cream. He asks you just as many questions as you do and you chuckle when he refers to nearly every movie before his date of birth as “a really old movie”. You show him a few Charlie Chaplin shorts to show him what exactly “really old” is. He, in turn, shows you Tik Tok videos that you both laugh over.

“Do you like serial killer stuff?” He asks as you both head to the dining room for dinner, tucking his phone back into his pocket, both sets of your sneakers squeaking ever so slightly on the expensive floors.

“I think most women do.”

“Why do you think that?” His little focused face is adorable, trying to link it up in his head.

“Women always think they can do things better. And they’re usually right, just to let you know.” He nods seriously. “We’re outraged by it but intrigued. Pretty sure women can get blood out of just about anything - I’ve gotten red nail polish out of khaki pants by sheer will alone. It’s different for everyone, I guess. But mostly I think it helps us to collectively learn how to plausibly commit the perfect murder while we drink wine from the couch and shove snacks in our faces. And possibly solve a crime in our heads.”

“Huh,” Peter’s brow is still furrowed but he’s nodding his understanding. Peter looks up to find Bucky studying you, and when you look at Peter, he’s just smiling. “Excuse me.” You nod, watching him high-five Shuri before you feel someone by your side. Dr. Strange gestures to your ever-moving seat, which tonight is between Okoye and Wanda.

“Thank you,” you murmur gratefully, not noticing the quick clench of Bucky’s hand as he moves around Strange to his own seat opposite Natasha.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Rhodey steals you after dinner, Sam teasing him as they disappear to his office.

“Come on, man. Just talk to her.”

“Shut up, bird brain.”

���She’s pretty nice. I was concerned she was just gonna go after us, with the questioning, but she eased into it and just didn’t focus on the darker stuff. She seems to want to get to know us as people.”

“It’s weird, huh?” Clint comments as Hope nods.

“It’s nice to be treated like a person. Not someone who’s infallible or holier than thou…” T’Challa remarks from his spot in the plush crimson chair across from them.

“Very inclusive, as well,” Okoye adds as Shuri and Peter come skidding into the room, Peter holding a tablet.

“What are you two doing?” Steve asks as he arches one blonde eyebrow high at the two.

“Nothing,” Shuri says smoothly, Peter nodding a few times too many when Tony comes into the room.

“Why is there a herd of deer in my hanger?” Both teens shoot off towards the patio door, laughing the whole time. “I don’t know what they did, but Redwing is acting like a herding dog with them, so you might need to go check that out, Sam.”

“Damn kids, I swear...I’m gonna need to squash me a spider…” He mutters loudly, heading briskly for the hanger.

“So, you gonna talk to our little journalist?” Tony smirks down at Bucky, which makes him scowl at the billionaire.

“I’m supposed to do that tomorrow,” He grumbles, making Tony smirk harder.

“You know that’s not what I mean, Tin Man.” Bucky wisely says nothing as he tries to calm his ramping up heart rate. “Even the kids have noticed you looking.”

“He has some competition,” Vision adds, smiling at Wanda who tilts her head slightly but returns his smile. “DUM-E.” Tony snorts, shaking his head as he turns away to gather himself.

“The robot? So the two are evenly matched then.” Natasha chuckles out, taking a healthy sip of her gin and tonic as she meets Bucky’s eyes.

“Nat, that’s not fair. The robot shook her hand and gave her a circuit board. He’s leagues ahead of Buck.” Clint teases, taking Natasha’s drink and taking his own healthy sip before handing it back. Bucky looks at his best friend, who is trying desperately to stop his shoulders from shaking with his laughter.

“40’s you would be ashamed. A robot who can’t talk?”

“Bucky Barnes vs a Roomba!” Shuri comments from behind Tony before making a break for it down the hallway with Sam hot on her tail. T’Challa, Okoye, and Bucky all point Sam down the hallway where she disappeared to when he comes panting into the living room.

“Now me is more inclined to hit your once-asthmatic ass for being the little shit you are,” Bucky growls at Steve, getting up from the couch turning to head to his room, only to freeze when he sees you and Rhodey standing by Peter in the door frame to the patio.

“Do you know there are deer in the hanger? And are you guys running a weird robot/human fight club?”

“Is that all you heard?” Tony asks, turning around and slinging his arm over the back of the couch with a smile flirting on his lips.

“We picked up the pace getting in here when we heard Shuri shout Bucky Barnes vs a Roomba. I mean, I’ve seen a raccoon with a machine gun, so that would have just been something else to add to the Weird Shit I’ve Seen list.” You press your lips together hard to keep from laughing at Rhodey’s nonchalant attitude and suddenly, Bucky isn’t as pissy as before. Well, he is - but at his friends - not at you.

Shit.

It’s been three days. Three fucking days and he’s smitten.

“Goodnight,” He says gruffly before retreating down the hall.

He’s nearly in his room, so he doesn’t hear you ask if you’ve done something wrong.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Tagging: @jewelofwinter @sgtjbuccky @jaamesbbarnes @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr

NOTE: Found the pic online and edited it, props to Google and all rights/privileges/ownership goes to who took the photo and to Marvel who made up all these characters. 

[PART 2]

[crue-sixx]

Try Something Different (Keanu Reeves Imagine)

This was requested.

Summary: Your boyfriend, Keanu Reeves, is back home and you’d like to try something different with him.

Warning: SMUT. 18+ READERS!

Imagine late 80’s or early 90’s Keanu for this one.

As you looked at yourself in the full length mirror, you smiled to yourself. You were wearing a new dress for the special occasion. The special occasion being that your boyfriend would be returning home after being away, filming for a movie.

You were dating Keanu Reeves and he had been making a name for himself in the movie industry. You couldn’t be prouder of him either. He was very passionate about acting and it showed in his work. The only thing that was hard was the fact that he was away a lot for filming. Of course there were the phone calls and little visits that tided you both over, but there was nothing like having him home. You’d been together for almost two years, however, so you were quite used to the routine.

You smoothed out the black dress you were wearing. It was tight fitting, showing off your figure in a very flattering way. You thought Keanu might want to go out for a nice dinner together since it had been some time. That was why you bought the dress. Also, you thought Keanu would like it. The color black on you drove him crazy for some reason. Add in the tight fit of the dress and you figured it would be a nice greeting for Keanu.

Speaking of Keanu...

“Honey, I’m home!” You heard him call out from downstairs.

You smiled and quickly made your way out of the bedroom you shared. You headed down the stairs and found Keanu sitting his bags down. He finally noticed you at the foot of the stairs and his eyes widened slightly as he looked you up and down.

“Welcome home, babe,” you greeted him and made your way over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck to hug him.

Keanu wrapped his arms around you in return then pulled back after a few moments to look you over again. “Yes, welcome home to me. You look so damn beautiful, sweetheart. Any particular reason you’re so dressed up?”

You blushed at his compliment and smiled. “Well, I felt like dressing up for you. Thought you might feel like going out for a nice dinner. It’s been a while since we’ve been on a date.”

Keanu hummed and nodded. “True and I like that idea, but I can think of better things to do with you.” He wiggled his brows and smirked.

You gave him a smirk of your own and eyed him. “Oh, really? Just what better things were you thinking?”

“Things that involve you and me up in that bedroom,” he replied, cheekily. “It’s still early. Dinner can wait. I think I’ll go ahead and have my dessert.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at Keanu’s remark, squealing when he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. You had a very nice view of his backside as he carried you up to the bedroom. He deposited you onto the bed and didn’t waste anytime with joining you, hovering himself over you as he smiled down at you before placing a kiss on your lips. You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around him as you did so. The dress had an even better effect on your boyfriend than you had originally planned.

Keanu moved his lips down, placing kisses on your jaw before going down further. You moaned as his lips left their mark on your neck. He knew just the places that drove you wild and you knew the same about him. In fact, you could feel a certain area of him hardening against your thigh, turning you on even more than you already were. You didn’t hesitate to move your hand down to his hardening member, rubbing him through his jeans as he moaned into your neck. An idea suddenly formed in your head. One that you had thought of before, but never felt brave enough to follow through with...until now that is.

“Keanu, babe, I’d like to try something different,” you told him, which made him pull his head up so that he could look down at you.

“What’s that?” He asked you, curiously.

“Well, I was thinking that I could...that I could give you a blow job,” you told him a bit nervously.

Keanu’s eyes widened at your statement. Sure, you and Keanu had been intimate, but you’d never done that for him. He never pushed it on you either, taking things at your own pace. He knew that he was your first. You were a virgin before meeting him and he had been so patient with you. He never suggested or did anything unless you were okay with it so hearing you say that you’d like to do that for him was a bit surprising.

“Sweetheart, are you sure?” He asked you as he looked at you. “You know you don’t have to do that for me.”

“But I’d like to,” you told him as confidently as you could. “It’s just...you know I’ve never done that before so I’m not sure what to do.”

Keanu smiled at you before he leaned down to give you a sweet kiss. “That’s okay, sweetheart. I can talk you through it...as long as you’re sure.”

You looked at Keanu and nodded as you smiled. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

He nodded and kissed you once more before he rolled off of you so that he was sitting up with his legs dangling off of the edge of the bed. He pulled you up and into his lap as he smiled at you. You returned his smile before you leaned in to kiss him, letting your hands go down to the hem of his shirt. You pulled away from the kiss to take his shirt off of him, which he helped you to do. Your hands ventured around the smooth skin of his chest. You leaned in and placed kisses along his skin as his hands came to rest in your hair. You began kissing your way down his chest and stomach until you found yourself in the floor on your knees.

Your nerves started kicking in a bit then. Sure, you were ready to do this, but you were nervous all the same. You’d never done this and you were worried you wouldn’t be any good. You glanced up at Keanu and found him looking back down at you with a small smile, being patient with you.

“You don’t have to, Y/N.”

“I know,” you replied as you moved your hands to his pants, starting to unbutton them. “I already told you that I wanted to and I meant it.”

Keanu nodded and lifted his hips up so that you could undress him. You pulled his pants and underwear off of him, discarding them on the floor in a heap. He was already hard from the looks of it, which made you smirk a bit. You reached your hand out and wrapped it around his length, pumping him a few times. He groaned in pleasure as his eyes started to close. If you were being honest, you couldn’t wait to get your mouth on him, which is why you leaned forward and tested the waters. You ran your tongue along the underside of his cock, making Keanu swear under his breath.

“Fuck, you’re already doing a great job, babe,” he complimented you, which made you smile. “Whenever you’re ready, you can just wrap your lips around the tip. Suck on it and swirl your tongue around it...whatever you feel like doing.”

You nodded at his words and moved your hand down to the base to hold him there. You then wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, letting your tongue swirl around and explore him. You could already taste some precum. It was a foreign taste...a bit salty and bitter with a hint of something you couldn’t explain, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Keanu was biting his lip as he watched you, entranced by the sight of you with his cock in your mouth. He didn’t know what was better, watching you with your lips wrapped around him or the pleasure you were giving him.

“That’s good, sweetheart,” Keanu told you in a husky voice as he moved one of his hands to your head, rubbing it. “Feels amazing. Whenever you’re ready, you can move more of me into your mouth...hollow your cheeks out and bob your head. Just make sure not to use your teeth.”

You hummed, letting him know that you understood what he was telling you. You were feeling pretty confident. He seemed to be enjoying what you were doing thus far. He hadn’t complained at least. You kept your eyes on him as you hollowed your cheeks out like he had instructed and moved more of him into your mouth. Keanu’s breath hitched as he felt your warm, wet mouth take in more of him. You’d barely just started and he was already on edge. Just watching you was enough to get him going. Add in the feel of your mouth and he was already a mess, trying to keep himself in check so that he wouldn’t buck up into your mouth for more. This was your first time and he was going to let you go at your own pace.

You started out with just half of his cock in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down at a steady pace. You used your hand that was wrapped around him to pump the rest of him, figuring he would enjoy that. Meanwhile, Keanu’s eyes were glued on you and he let out soft groans of pleasure as he bit his lip. He noticed your hair seemed to be in the way so he gathered it up into his hand and held it like a makeshift ponytail, which you were appreciative of.

“You’re doing such an amazing job, Y/N,” Keanu praised you with heavy breaths. “Keep going just like that, sweetheart. Your mouth feels so good and you look so fucking gorgeous with my cock in your mouth.”

Keanu’s praises were making you feel even more confident and not to mention turned on. You could feel yourself growing wet by his words. They also urged you on. You hummed around him again as you started moving more of him into your mouth with each bob of your head. Your cheeks were still hollowed and your tongue ran along the underside of his cock. You held onto Keanu’s thigh with your free hand as your other still pumped him with purpose. You eventually moved as much of him into your mouth to the point that you were deeptheoating him, which caused you to gag a bit.

“Y/N!” Keanu groaned out in pleasure and gripped onto your hair tighter as his hips involuntarily bucked up, causing you to gag some more. “Fuck...sorry. That feels great, but don’t hurt yourself.”

You finally pulled your head up to catch your breath, using your hand to pump him as you took some breaths. “Am I doing okay?”

“Yes, you’re amazing, sweetheart,” Keanu told you with a lustful look. “You’re making me feel so good.”

You smiled proudly before you moved your mouth back down on his cock. You swirled your tongue around the tip a few times before you started bobbing your head again. Keanu moaned and made sure to send out praises to you, knowing how much you liked to hear them. You were becoming more turned on by the second.

“Y/N, I’m so fucking close,” Keanu groaned out. “You don’t have to swallow if you don’t want to.”

It was sweet of him to offer, but you were curious and you didn’t mind. He seemed to understand that you weren’t going to stop so he let you continue on. He moaned your name out loudly as he came, his grip on your hair tightening as well. It was quite the shock for you at first when he came into your mouth. It was a weird sensation, but not unpleasant. You swallowed down what he offered you, not feeling weird about it like you thought you would. You continued working him through his high until he finally pulled you away because he was too sensitive. You looked up at him as his hands were placed on your shoulders. He was breathless and looking at you like he never had before.

“Was I okay?” You asked him, curiously, as you wiped your mouth.

“You were amazing, babe,” Keanu said as he pulled you up onto the bed to sit with him. “Fuck, that mouth of yours is wonderful.”

You smiled at that before he leaned in to kiss you. He didn’t seem to care that you tasted of him like some guys would. In fact, he seemed to kiss you harder than before.

“Now, it’s my turn,” Keanu told you after he pulled away from the kiss.

“What?” You asked him as you watched him move down onto his knees in the floor, taking your previous spot.

“It’s my turn to get a taste of you,” he replied with a smirk as he pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. He moved his hands up your dress and to the waistbad of your panties to pull them down. “That is if that’s okay with you. I bet you’re as sweet as you look.”

You felt yourself grow excited at his words as you nodded your head with a grin. You leaned back on your elbows, waiting to experience that wonderful mouth of Keanu’s on you now.

[amzyspinkarch]

Cut Style- Cavendish x Plus Size Reader

You have been taking calls, sending and responding to emails all day, tracking down clients or important people whom your supervisor wish to speak with. Packing boxes and having packages sent out to call for a messenger service, including taking your supervisor's dog for a walk and getting her lunch and coffee. 

To say it's been a stressful day would be an understatement. One would think three months in the internship, you would be used to the chaos and bizarre yet normal in this industry's eyes,  errands. You look to your list for the next upcoming phone calls to be made. A sigh escapes as you lean your head onto the chair, closing your eyes for a moment of peace. 

That peace did not last very long as 'everyone's favourite blonde' as you like to call him, graced you with his presence. You sigh picking up his scent from his very expensive perfume. 

''I bring you both my presence and coffee and this is the lacklustre reaction I get?'' he pauses waiting for a response, yet none came 

''Y/n!'' he snapped. You involuntarily flinched before collecting yourself, lazily opening one of your eyes. A dark brown iris meets his pools of sky blue. 

''Hi" you lazily greet your co-worker and sit up to give him the attention he so loves. Your eyes roll on the thought ''What do you want cabbage?''  you ask rudely with a smirk knowing the nickname always gets on his nerves. It works best when you want him to get out of your space. Though, it's not too hard to when the other females here flock to him granting you an escape. 

He puts the coffee down on the desk giving you an annoyed look. You squint at the beverages not trusting this sneaky son a bitch one bit after the last stunt he pulled. A memory from your earlier time here at Marie Clare plays.

The first time you are introduced to everyone, you felt a swarm of butterflies in your stomach as your nerves almost got the best of you. You were only able to nod, smile and shake hands of your new co-workers who were all smiles. Your day went on being given a tour, introducing you to your supervisor and shadowing.

During the upcoming months, you've taken on every task given to you without complaint and executing each with the standard required. Day in and day out you prove yourself to your supervisor and the magazine. There were days where you missed lunch and had a lousy dinner while handling more business before crashing and waking the next to repeat.

An entire day was filled with taking calls, running small errands, dressing the models and fetching accessories and providing the staff with snacks and beverages. You catch sight of Cavendish busy styling one of the models. The pair seemed to be flirting with each other or having a fun conversation judging by the smiles on each's face. For some reason, you couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious. Why? You started your journey of self-love and acceptance so why break that for a couple of strangers? 'Are you strangers though?' your mind asks. You shake your head getting it back into the game. This is not what you worked your ass off for, to seek the attention of a guy.

Your impeccable ability to style, dressing mannequins, selecting and coordinating outfits, colours and accessories for display, draping and pinning fabric, your work discipline has started becoming the talk of the workplace reaching the ears of a certain blonde. Your talent being compared to his were the wrong words to hear. The fact that you are good and becoming the centre of attention was eating him up inside and he didn't like it.

You were busy between waiting for a call back from a client and styling a mannequin that you hadn't realized Cavendish coming your way with two coffees in his hand.

''Hi there'' he chirped you startled again from his presence and whipped around to face him. The first thing he noticed were your nude ombre glossed lips before your 90's inspired outfit adorning your body and beautiful dark skin. Alas, though you are a sight to see, that wasn't enough to soothe the bruises to the ego.

''You have to stop scaring me like that man. Seriously'' he gives a fake apologetic smile and hands you your coffee.

''I just wanted to come see about the girl who's the talk of the office. Your work has been...nice. It's nowhere as great as mine but.. .'

You accept the coffee raising an eyebrow ''is that so?''

''Qui. My style’s... c'est magnifique. Your work is decent though.''

''Thanks for the coffee, we should do this again next time.'' You give a blank face looking at up at the tall male. He chuckles and walks backwards with his hands raised.

''It was nice meeting you y/n'' he dismisses himself leaving you to huff at the audacity of him. You go back to work and forgot about the coffee for a minute before picking it up absentmindedly. While working on the mannequin, you take frequent sips of the liquid before your stomach started having a queasy feeling along with trips to the bathroom.

This was not good; you had a list of daily tasks to be completed. All essential for the magazine and failure to stay on top of your work could be disastrous for the magazine and you. You barely made it through the day completing tasks and to your apartment bathroom.

Having a break from releasing your bowels for a minute, you think about the events from the day. Your mind went to your moment with Cavendish as you became upset at the memory when it hit you. The assailant caused you to become both horrified and see red.

After you've overcome your sickness, you marched into work looking for the blonde finding him working on piece. It looked amazing what he had so far you admitted. Nevertheless, you had a mission. He was sitting at his desk hovering over a sketch lost in thought. You slammed your hands down on his desk gaining his attention as he looks up with the same sickening charming smile. How could he live with himself? You leaned towards him.

''You poisoned me with no care for consequence. What kind of sick person stoops that low? I'm not going to have you fired for this but a word of advice, if you want to take out your competition, do so with some class and not repulsive tricks like this. I worked my butt off for this internship; I'll succeed at getting this job full ti.-''

''I will personally make sure that you never get this job. You're not'' he pauses to look at your full figure ''fit'' you dryly chuckle

''Listen to me. I will not let some lacklustre, shallow, self-centred, my little pony looking ass bitch drive me out of the place which will become my future job. Cavendish...sweeties...you can go fuck yourself'' you straighten yourself before turning your back and walking out with grace.

You straighten yourself in your chair looking to Cavendish and give a closed-mouth smile. `"I'll pass on your death drinks Cavendish. Thank you.''

''That was a long time ag-'

''Don't...don't do that. Don't act like it was nothing big. You poisoned me and I should've reported you but I wasn't going to get you fired for being a jealous prissy pants.'' The blonde stares at you still surprised at how blunt you can be

''Do you ever listen to what you say?''

''My words are as blunt as both your words and actions. Don't act fazed, what I say is the truth. Anyways what did you want I'm busy'' he scoffs before leaning closer and your fingers kiss. 

The attraction for each other is undeniable yet neither will be the first to start...anything. You already decided distractions aren't a luxury you could afford and any would be detrimental to all the hard work and time you've been putting in. You remind yourself that you are but an intern, desperately needing this job after college. You have no time to play house with someone who's foot is already in the door. Cavendish takes a moment briefly taking in your features and attire, appreciating everything before breaking up the moment.

''I came to give you some good news. I'm going to style a certain celebrity and I came to bring you coffee so you can celebrate with me before I go down to my fans..'' he says dreamily. You all but laugh at the male.

''Congratulations''

''You didn't let me finish''

''Oh there's more'' you say uninterested.

''Honestly, you are so brash. I also wished to let you know I have decided I'd let you shadow me. Or be my little helper. Amanda said that would be great for you and I. You learn from a great teacher and I, well... I show you what it's like being around greatness. Even now you are a witness as we converse.''

Your lips purse before you speak, words dripping with sarcasm ''Woow, really! Me? Oh, Cabbage I'm so honoured that you chose me to be one of your followers! I hope I can..make you proud'' you wink

''My gosh woman! Honestly y/n I'm trying to be nice here''

''You're being self-centred that's what but, that's very nice of you. I appreciate it. I would like to learn from you.''

"Thank you. See, you're already getting better at gratitude''

''Whatever little knowledge I need to know''

''I hope you fall down the stairs'' he says taking the coffees off your desk going to turn around

''Ha-ha I'm sorry Cavendish. Come back, I am grateful and thank you for the opportunity. I'm just not sure why you picked me?'' he releases a breath before turning to you again, his voluminous hair bounces with the movement.

''If you must know...I didn't entirely agree to this but I thought you'd actually need the opportunity. Plus, they've done this before with past interns. I was more so assigned with you really but I reluctantly agreed.'' You give him a face 

''I said I agreed still didn't I?'' you shake your head chuckling involuntarily

''Fine Cavendish, I would actually love to learn from you as you have more experience than I and I'd need all the experience I can get. Just...can you promise not to sabotage me? No poisoning or anything'' you say looking at him pointedly as he rolls his eyes

''Fine y/n'' you firmly nod and put your hand out. He looks at it then into your dark brown eyes bemused. Nonetheless, he takes your hand and you shake once. You've surprised him more than he'd like to admit these past months. He's taken an interest in you even if he still despises the shared spotlight.

''Truce?'' you ask.

''Truce.'' He picks up the drinks up teasing you

''You get no coffee though''

''I didn't want that shit anyway. You probably wanted to poison me again you psycho.''

Without peeling his gaze, he takes a sip from the cup meant for you feeling the warm liquid wash down his throat, warming his insides. He licks his lips.

''Mm mocha.''

''Get the fuck out''

[theycallmebeccawrites]

Chris & Ellie Series: Episode 7

With Tumblr holding my original writing blog @beccaheartschrisevans captive (aka flagged as explicit), I have made a secondary writing blog and may end up closing the other all together. In the meantime, I am reposting all of my stories on my new blog.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Ellie Spencer (OFC)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: n/a

Episode Summary: This episode takes place in August 2013. Chris takes Ellie with him to a friend's wedding.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

The Chris and Ellie series is primarily chronological.  It begins with a flash forward to 2016 and has a few other scenes in the future.  However, the majority of their story is told in chronological order starting in 2013 and going through 2017. Each episode starts with a date to help you place it within the story.

The Chris & Ellie Series Masterlist | Chris & Ellie Masterlist

Episode 6

Episode 7: The Wedding

August 16, 2013

Ellie was in the kitchen cleaning up dinner when Chris came into the room with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Not wanting to eavesdrop, she tried to block out his voice, but he was talking so loudly that it was difficult.

"You promised to go with me, Scott," he said into the phone. "What the hell am I supposed to do now? I hate going to these things alone… You're right, you're right, work comes first… Ellie?"

Ellie looked up at the mention of her name and found Chris looking at her.

"Yeah, I supposed it wouldn't hurt to ask her," Chris said into the phone. "I know, Scott…. I just wish you'd given me more notice that's all… I promise I will ask her, she is actually staring at me right now…. Yes, I will let you know if you are off the hook."

Curious, Ellie waited until Chris pulled the phone from his ear and hit the 'end' button.

"So," he said, casually. "What are the chances you have this weekend off from the bookstore?"

"Depends on what you need me to do," Ellie replied, crossing her arms.

"Scott was supposed to go with me to a wedding in Palm Springs this weekend," Chris explained. "But he just called to tell me that they need him here in LA for reshoots. So I was hoping you were available to go to the wedding with me as my, uh, date."

"You were going to take your brother to a wedding as your date?" Ellie teased, unable to stop herself.

"Funny," Chris replied, rolling his eyes. "I RSVP'd with a plus one and I can't go to this thing by myself. If I do, women tend to think I am free game and won't leave me alone."

"So it's less date and more personal bodyguard?" she theorized. She wasn't sure if she was up to the task of protecting Chris from the aforementioned 'women', but she wouldn't be a friend if she made him go by himself.

"You're going to make me beg, aren't you?" he said with a sigh.

"Well, now that you mention it," she smirked, curious to see how far this would go.

"You truly are evil," Chris muttered as his phone dinged alerting him to a text message. A smile spread across his face as he read his brother's text. He shot a quick 'thanks' in reply then turned his attention back to Ellie. "Before you make me beg, the resort the wedding is at has a full service day spa. The wedding is tomorrow night and Scott had scheduled himself a massage that they won't let him cancel. It's fully paid for. If you come with me, the massage is yours."

Ellie scrunched up her face as she realized her gig was up and the cocky grin on Chris's face told her he knew it, too. "Alright, I'm in," Ellie sighed, after a moment, reaching her hand across the island to shake Chris's.

"You're the best," Chris said with a smile.

"What does one wear to a Palm Springs resort?" Ellie asked.

Chris took in her cutoff jean shorts and her hot pink racer back tank top and said, "Definitely not that."

"What? You mean you don't think this is a classy look?" Ellie asked. She did a slow turn and caught Chris's eyes bouncing from her ass to her face. "See something you like?" The words slipped from her mouth before she realized it and she felt her face heat up as she watched Chris's do the same. "Oh my God, don't answer that."

"In the sake of all honesty, you have a nice ass," Chris confessed, unable to stop himself. "I noticed it that first day we met."

"Yeah, well you have a nice cock." Ellie's eyes widened as the words registered in her head and she slapped her hand over her mouth as Chris let out a roar of laughter.

"That is the best come back I have ever heard," Chris said, wiping the tears from his eyes as he laughed.

"I'm glad you think so, meanwhile, I'm ready to go bury myself under the blankets of my bed and never leave," Ellie replied. She couldn't believe the words had left her mouth; true as they were or not.

"It's ok, honestly," Chris said, attempting to calm himself. "It's been like five months, we should be able laugh about it by now…"

"I suppose you're right," Ellie replied. "It was pretty funny when you think about it." She giggled as she remembered the paper towels. "The fact that you grabbed the -"

"Paper towels when there was a newspaper right there, yeah, yeah, yeah. My mom loves that part of the story too."

"How are we going to do this?" Ellie asked, sobering. "Like what are we telling people this weekend if they ask how we met."

"We'll keep it simple, you're my friend and you came as my date," Chris replied. "Keep it simple. We met through a mutual friend."

"There isn't going to be any paparazzi there, right? I mean, am I going to have to worry about them posting my picture somewhere with the caption 'Chris Evans dates mystery brunette with fake boobs' the next time I go to the grocery store?"

"It's not an industry wedding," Chris said with a chuckle. "So no, there shouldn't be any paparazzi. In fact, the resort we are going to is well protected so we should be fine."

"Ok, good," Ellie nodded. "I didn't want to have to defend myself to the cashier about my boobs being real."

"Should the situation present itself, I'd be happy to take a feel and confirm they're real, to defend your honor and all that," Chris said, earning him a glare from Ellie. "Too soon?"

"Too soon," Ellie said with a nod. "Now if you'll excuse me. I have some packing to do and I have to see if I can find someone to watch -"

"Scott said he'd stay here tomorrow night," Chris cut her off. "He also doesn't have to be on set until noon, so he'll check on Daisy before then."

"Perfect," Ellie replied. "I'll bring her kennel into the house in the morning. What time do I need to be ready?"

"9ish? Your massage is at noon, so leaving at 9 would give you time to get settled in your room first."

"Sounds good, I'll see you in the a.m."

With Daisy following her, Ellie went out to the guesthouse and opened her closet to pick out her most resort appropriate clothing. She selected the brand new dress she'd purchased when shopping with her sisters and then grabbed nice clothes from the back of her closet that she hadn't worn since she'd first moved to LA. She quickly tried them on and was pleasantly surprised when they still fit and actually felt a little looser than she remembered.

Not wanting to fold her nice clothes, she put them all under a dry cleaning plastic cover and then proceeded to fill her medium sized rolling suitcase with everything she thought she might need. It was nearly midnight by the time she lifted Daisy up onto the bed and climbed in after her.

When her alarm went off seven hours later, she sprung from her bed and took a quick shower. She waited until after she'd carried Daisy's kennel up to the main house before she put on her navy blue dress with striped top. She then made sure all the lights were off in the guesthouse before grabbing her purse, suitcase and the clothes that were hanging and carrying them up to the main house.

Chris came into the kitchen shortly after eight wearing a pair of khaki dress pants and a navy blue shirt that matched her outfit perfectly. He was carrying a hanging luggage bag and stopped short when he saw Ellie's stuff piled next to the table. "You do remember we are only going to be gone for one night, right?" he said, fighting back his laughter.

"Shut up," Ellie retorted, pushing her naturally curly hair out of her face. Spotting Chris's hanging luggage bag she asked, "I don't suppose you have another one of those…"

"You can just add 'em to mine," Chris replied. He unzipped it and held it open for her to add her stuff.

"Thanks," Ellie replied. "Want eggs for breakfast?"

"Sure, I'll get the coffee going," Chris offered.

An hour later, they were in Chris's car and pulling out of the driveway. They argued all the way to the freeway as to what music to play and Ellie finally convinced him to listen to one of her random car mixes.

After about thirty minutes of country songs and 90's boybands, Chris reached over and lowered the volume. "How about we just talk," he suggested.

"About what?" Ellie replied as she switched to a different playlist on her phone. She reached over to turn the volume back up, but had her hand swatted away.

"How about sports? I know you like baseball. Do you like anything?"

"I love football," she said with a grin. "I can't wait for the season to start."

"Really?" He cocked his eyebrow and glanced at her. "Who's your team?"

"Depends, are you asking college or NFL?"

"Do you have a preference?"

"I like college better, because every year you have new players and every 3 to 4 years, there is a major change over."

"Far enough. Who's your college team?"

"The Oregon Ducks, of course. Fun fact, our mascot, Puddles, is Donald Duck's alter ego."

"Uh huh, sure."

"No, I'm serious. One of our former Athletic Directors in the 1940's knew a Disney cartoonist and through him got a meeting with Walt Disney himself," Ellie stated. "There is a picture of Walt wearing an Oregon Ducks jacket. They changed the mascot costume a little, a few years ago, but all the Puddles branded stuff is Donald Duck."

"Given that that was a lot of information in like sixty seconds, I'm just going to believe you," Chris said with a chuckle. "Do you have an NFL team?"

"Of course I do. I'm a Northwest girl so it's obviously the Seahawks. I know you're a Pats fan, though."

"What gave it away?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Obviously not the Patriots shit you have all over the house," she said shaking her head. "I guess I'm just glad you don't like the Cowboys."

"Likewise."

From football their conversation moved to sports they played as kids then to childhood memories and everything in between while music played quietly in the background. It made the two and a half hour drive pass quickly; especially when traffic slowed to a crawl in certain places.

"Holy shit," Ellie gasped as she caught sight of the mission style resort. "This place is gorgeous."

"It belongs to the bride's family," Chris said. "The groom was one of my first roommates here in California."

Pulling up to the entrance, Chris and Ellie's doors were opened for them by resort staff. Chris was given a ticket for the valet service while Ellie supervised the other staff member pulling their luggage out of the trunk.

They made their way into the lobby and were greeted by a third staff member. "Good morning," she said, greeting them. "Can I get you two something to drink before I check you in?"

"No, I think we're good, thanks though," Chris replied.

"Follow me please." She led them over to the check in desk and asked Chris his name. "Ah, yes, I see your reservation here. It's an excellent room overlooking the golf course."

"One room?" Ellie asked in surprise.

"There must be a mistake," Chris told the lady. "There should be two rooms."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Evans, but there is only one room with a king size bed reserved under your name," the woman replied.

"But you have other rooms available, right?" Ellie asked her.

"No, Miss, I apologize, but we are fully booked this weekend," the lady replied.

"Can you give us a minute to talk?" Chris asked her.

"Of course," the woman replied, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

"Now what?" Ellie asked as she and Chris moved away from the check-in desk. "There's nothing else out this way."

"I know," Chris replied. "We just shared a bed two weeks ago, are you opposed to doing it again?"

"I don't think we have any other options," Ellie sighed.

Walking back to the counter, Chris finished the checking in process and then he and Ellie were led to their second floor room by a bellhop.

The room was of modest size with a large king bed taking up most of it. The attached bathroom had a full glass shower, a separate tub and two sinks. The best feature, however, was the wall of windows that separated the small balcony from the rest of the room and looked out over the beautiful green golf course.

"I don't feel like we're in southern California anymore," Ellie muttered after the bellhop had left. "It's so green."

"You're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy," Chris teased as he opened the patio door and they stepped out into the warm air. "Gah, heat like this makes me miss Boston."

"All this green makes me miss Oregon," Ellie agreed. "This heat is atrocious. I feel my hair getting bigger already."

Chris snickered and stole a look at her before nodding his head. "It's definitely doing something…"

"Fuck, I may have to squeeze in a hair appointment today, too," Ellie grumbled. "You got any more of that Grant money I saw you hand the bellhop? You know, in case they don't take pity on me in the spa by the mere appearance of my hair?"

"Since you're helping me out this weekend, yes, I can give you some money," Chris replied with a shake of his head. "Can we go back inside now?"

Thirty minutes later, Ellie left the room with her room key, a small bag of supplies and extra money in her purse. The spa was easy to find and the receptionist took one look at her hair, asked if she was here for the wedding and quickly ushered her into a stylist's chair.

The stylist applied a product to Ellie's hair then wrapped her hair up before she was escorted to one of the private changing rooms. She took off her clothes and put on a thick terry cotton robe then grabbed the key to the changing room before being led to the massage table.

By the time she returned to her and Chris's room, two hours later, she was completely relaxed from her massage and the hot shower that had followed. The stylist had whipped her hair into submission and, for the first time in her life, she actually had bouncy curls! She'd even had her makeup and her nails done. She'd felt like she was floating during the entire walk back to the room.

"Wow," Chris said when he looked from when where he was laying on the bed. "You look nice."

"Thanks," Ellie replied. Catching sight of herself in the large mirror on the way, she swung her hair and giggled.

"Either you've already started drinking or the spa is experimenting with personality transplants," Chris laughed.

"I may have had a mimosa or two," Ellie smiled as she walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. "But look, Chris, look at my hair. It's never looked this good before! Gus, the hair stylist, is a God. There is no other way to describe him."

"It looks good," Chris agreed. Truthfully, he liked her hair in its wild natural form or pulled back in a ponytail. He liked her down to earth spunkiness. "But I'm guessing that this means you don't want to spend the next two hours down at the pool."

"Gus said to stay away from water," Ellie replied. "So that's a definite no."

With a couple hours to kill, they channel surfed until they found a preseason NFL game featuring two teams neither of them cared about, but they watched since it was football.

When they were down to the final thirty minutes, Chris went into the bathroom to take a quick shower while Ellie stayed in the main part of the room to get dressed. By the time Chris left the bathroom dressed and ready to go, all Ellie needed was for him to zip up the back of her dress.

"What are you doing?" she demanded as she saw Chris reaching for his plain black baseball cap. "You're not wearing that."

"Ellie, come on, I'm trying to be incognito, remember?"

"Wearing a baseball hat with a suit is not the way to remain incognito at a formal wedding," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Just wear your sunglasses and keep your head down."

"You're the boss," Chris replied, holding up his hands defensively.

"And don't you forget it," Ellie smirked. She watched as he grabbed his sunglasses and slipped them on. "Perfect! Let's go."

They made their way down to the outdoor ceremony and took two seats in the very last row that had been reserved for them.

"How many people are here?" Ellie whispered.

"500?" Chris guessed as he looked out over the crowd. Half of them were seated on an upper patio while the rest were in a grassy area.

"Do you know anyone other than the bride and the groom?" Ellie asked.

"The groom, Ray, and I were two of five roommates," Chris replied. "So I suspect our other roommates are here. As for Kady's guests, I don't know anyone."

They stopped talking as Ray and the officiant walked to the front of the audience and took their positions. Fourteen pairs of bridesmaids and groomsmen made their way down the aisle before the bride appeared with her father.

After the ceremony ended, the wedding party was escorted away for photos while the guests were excused to the cocktail hour. Servers made their way through the crowd with appetizers and custom drinks created by the bride and groom for the wedding.

Chris and Ellie found a quiet table along the edge of the party and relaxed as they people watched. Spotting a group of six walking towards them, Ellie nudged Chris and pointed.

A smile spread across Chris's face as he recognized his three other roommates and their beautiful wives. One by one he gave them each a hug and then introduced them to Ellie. "This is Ellie," he told them. "Ellie, this is Chucky and Tanya Kelley, Bryant and Gloria Gomez and Brock and Tessa Alexander."

"Hi," Ellie said with an awkward wave to the six strangers in front of her.

"So how did this one convince you to come to this festive event?" Chucky asked as he put Chris in a pretend headlock. "Just blink twice if you're not here by your own choosing."

"Shut the fuck up, Chuck," Chris said, elbowing his friend in the gut. "Ellie is just a friend doing me a favor because Scott had a conflict."

"Alright, friend Ellie, how did you meet this guy?" Chucky asked as he gave Chris a playful push.

"Mutual friends," Ellie replied, giving her best poker face as she tried to come up with a better answer. "We both love Red Sox baseball and football and they thought we'd get along great."

"Of course, C.E. would find a girl, sorry, a friend, that loves football," Brock chuckled. "Has he told you about his annual NFL kickoff party? It's a blast."

"No," Ellie said, looking at Chris with raised eyebrows. "He hadn't mentioned anything about a party…"

"We'll have something to talk about on the way home," Chris said with a forced chuckle.

A voice came over the speaker system inviting everyone to make their way to the dinner area.

"Saved by the bell," Bryant teased Chris.

"A kickoff party?" Ellie hissed to Chris as they followed the other three couples.

"It's usually a potluck style," Chris replied. "I usually supply the drinks and chips."

"Still," Ellie said, forcing a smile on her lips as she realized they were sitting at a table with his friends.

As they reached the table, Chris pulled her chair out for her and then pushed it back in once she was seated.

"So," Ellie said, leaning in. "You guys have known this one for a while. I'm sure you have lots of hilarious stories to share." She tossed Chris a grin.

"We're in public," Chris said, shaking his head. "Keep in clean."

Chris's friends shared stories as they ate the delicious five course meal. By the time they'd finished eating, they were all a little tipsy from their drinks and their faces hurt from laughing. Even Chris had joined in on the storytelling, dragging his friends down with him.

They all quieted down as the bride and groom shared their first dance as husband and wife. That dance was followed by the other traditional dances, but soon the lead singer of the live band invited everyone out on top the dance floor to work off their dinner.

Ellie had assumed she and Chris would sit out on the dancing, but his friends wouldn't allow it. She quickly found herself being pulled out onto the dancefloor with her hand clutched in Chris's. The first few dances were lively and upbeat, but then it switched to a slow song.

Before she and Chris had a chance to escape the dance floor, they were pushed together. After moving their hands from the awkward spots they had landed, they repositioned themselves so they were in a basic slow dance hold, with her hands resting on his shoulders and his hands on her waist.

As soon as the song was done, Chris grabbed her hand and made a beeline off the dance floor. Ellie laughed as he pulled her over to the bar and it was as they were leaving with drinks that they ran into the bride and groom. Chris introduced Ellie to them and, in the few minutes they spent with them, Ellie could tell that they were as genuine and sweet as Chris's other friends.

An hour or so later, their group sat at their table listening to the speeches being made by the wedding party and various other people. The toasts were immediately followed by the bride and groom cutting the cake and then the servers delivered small, personal-sized cakes to everyone.

By the time they'd finished eating their dessert, it was nearly midnight and the long day was starting to catch up to Chris and Ellie. They said their goodbyes to Chris's friends and then took one of the golf cart shuttles back to the main building where they were staying.

After Chris helped Ellie unzip the back of her dress, she went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. When she exited fifteen minutes later, she was wearing one of the hotel's fluffy white robes over her matching camisole and short pajamas.

While Chris was in the bathroom, Ellie admired her hair in the mirror, amazed that it still looked fantastic after so many hours. She was beginning to think that Gus the hairstylist was a magician.

Not ready to climb into the bed yet, Ellie grabbed her phone and sat down on the end of the chaise lounge. She laid back against the soft fabric and wondered if she shouldn't just sleep there with her hair cascading over the side.

When Chris came out of the bathroom, he shook his head and asked, "Are you coming to bed soon?"

"I think I'm going to sleep right here," Ellie replied, moving her head slightly so the still bouncy curls swayed over the edge of the arm. "Keep my hair from getting messed up."

"You are not sleeping on that thing," Chris said firmly. "You'll hurt your neck."

"But my hair looks so good, Chris!" Ellie pouted.

"Ellie -" He stopped when he realized he didn't know her middle name. "What's your middle name?"

"Elaine," she replied with a yawn.

"You're name is Ellie Elaine?"  he asked, confused.

"No, Ellie is short for Elaine. My first name is Sarah," she explained.

"So why don't you go by Sarah?" he inquired.

"Because that was my grandma's name and she went by Sarah."

"Oh, I guess that makes sense," Chris replied. "What were we talking about again?"

"I believe you were getting ready to threaten me," Ellie stated.

"Oh right," Chris nodded. He cleared his throat and then in a stern voice said, "Sarah Elaine, you're not sleeping on that thing. I will carry you to the bed if I have to and I will lay on top of you to make you stay."

Ellie sat up and stared at Chris in shock. "You do realize you would crush me if you laid on top of me, right?" she asked.

"Oh, right," Chris said. "Well, I'd find some way to restrain you to the bed."

"Fine," Ellie sighed as she forced herself up. "Have it your way."

While she got into the bed, Chris adjusted the air conditioning of the room, turning it to a lower temperature. He then grabbed an extra blanket from the closet and tossed it to Ellie. He knew she liked to sleep in a cold room, like he did, but he'd learned that she was a bit of a blanket hog.

Climbing into the bed, Chris turned off the lights and pulled the blankets up to his chin. He heard Ellie rustling around next to him and waited for her to get settled before his closed his eyes.

Hours later, he awoke to her long hair fanned out across his face. Brushing it away, he looked over and saw that she was lying on her side facing him. Sometime during the night they had moved from their respective edges to the middle of the bed where a mere foot or so separated them from each other.

Unable to fall back to sleep, he watched her. He loved that her hair had returned to its natural form sometime during the night and it surround her like a lion's mane.

"Stop staring at me, you creeper," she mumbled.

Chris couldn't help but laugh.

Episode 7.25

Want to find me off tumblr? I’m @beccatheycallme on twitter. I also post my stories on AO3.

My tag list is always open, just let me know if you’d like to be added!

[thegentjimmy]

DJing, performing and loneliness.

I’ve been meaning to write something about this for a few weeks now. Firstly when I started to feel a little depressed again after months of feeling refreshed and reinvigorated. Secondly, after Avicii died and when a lot of my friends dismissed the situation stating “Oh well, his music was shit anyway.” And finally, during mental health awareness week, when I saw loads of people lighting up my social media, the news, and the world with positive messages that it is ok to feel empty, lost and hopeless sometimes, which is important to hear, even if it does start to sometimes get a little repetitive, acceptance is key - and it seems the world has begun to embrace mental health and the benefits of discussing it and being aware of taking care of our mental well-being in our daily lives. 

I’m here to talk about the darker side of my experiences within my job, a job which I love to bits. I get to play music in various forms for a living and I could not be more thankful that this and this alone, mostly pays for my electricity and food and rent. Although it’s not been an easy path, or a quick one - and the route to this situation has been dogged with difficult scenarios, the most difficult of all, constant loneliness. 

When I began DJing I didn’t even consider how much solitude and isolation I was entering myself into. I just loved music. My first residency was at a bar called SOYO in Sheffield - where I would play for 4 or 5 hours on a Sunday night. I’d spend hours all day picking out music for the evening, working on my mixes, downloading, researching, picking through old CD’s and vinyl in every charity shop I could find trying to ensure that my sets were interesting and varied every time - although it often didn’t matter because unless a big group of my friends came down to see me play (which they did quite regularly and I can never thank them enough for that) I would just have the general public mouthing off in my ear about playing more Rihanna and turning my shit soul music off. 

The flyer for my first ever DJ residency. 

My first night at SOYO playing “Mixtape” - I bought all these cassettes for about 5p each in a charity shop and carried them in every week for decoration.

I was also working a “normal” job at the time, in a hotel as a waiter and bar tender. I was offered a second DJ residency and quickly worked out the sums, in two DJ gigs per week, I would be earning more than I would for working 30 hours at the hotel. I took great pleasure in telling my bosses to fuck off on a particularly stretched evening where I was clicked at by a man who hosted celebrity dinners, the particular celebrity this evening was Trigger from Only Fools And Horses. He wanted more champagne. I wanted him to get shat on by a flock of seagulls (the band or a load of angry sea birds) Deciding that was probably not going to happen inside a 3 star hotel, I walked out instead. 

Practicing mixes whilst my housemates and I prepared for a night out on the town, no doubt a few beers in. Ironing board was a great DJ booth.

That was the second to last time that I worked as part of a “team” (there’s no ‘I’ in team, but there is an ‘I’ in ‘isolation’) and I’ve only just realised that now, writing this. I threw myself into solitude at work. Not only would I be spending long hours behind the decks picking out records (a lot of which I hated) to try and encourage people to have a good time, slowly honing my craft, earning my stripes - as they say, I would also be on my own during a lot of the day, picking out music for future gigs, emailing people to try and get work, practicing mixes, recording mixes, over and over again to try and prove that I was good enough, chasing up payments that had been promised but never delivered, all the while learning about music history, keeping up with current trends, emerging trends, reading about popular music in all its forms since the pirate radio days of the late 60′s - to 90′s rave and 00′s boy bands, really just attempting to diversify myself as a music collector and human - whilst most of my other friends were at work. And when my friends finished work and invited me out for a pint, for a birthday meal, round to their house to watch a film, or out on a date, I was busy working as many days as I could to make a living doing something that I absolutely adored. And gradually, the invitations stopped coming. And I didn’t even notice. I was obsessed with making playing music, my job. And going out after I finished my job with people that worked in bars and getting pissed because I was so desperate for human interaction. Sadly, a lot of these situations I can’t even remember. There could have been some great ideas discussed, but in all honesty, there probably wasn’t! 

My friend Ben travelled back to the UK from New Zealand. It was the first time I had seen him in 5 years, and I was obviously working. He bought us double rums all night. I was very ill the next morning. 

Playing the backroom at Replica, Sheffield. My remit was “Dubstep and Electro - cooler more underground music.” I was probably playing 50 Cent - Ayo Technology instead.

There was a point around 5 years ago, when I DJ’d every single day for 3 months straight. And because back then I was only just starting out, most of the gigs I did for free or for very little money. I didn’t have time to go and see my friends. I barely saw my housemates, although we did have some incredibly special moments during those years. Then, I took a job teaching - working in a small team of wonderful individuals and my entire outlook on everything changed. I was happier and fulfilled and I didn’t know why. I wasn’t feeling distant as much, even though this was only a temp job and it paid barely enough to afford food for the week. The interactions with other human beings were worth more than the £50 a shift, more invigorating to my happiness than a big bag of chips and a can of dandelion & burdock. 

With the Clothes Line gang - a few Red Stripes in, having a cuddle. 

I left Sheffield in 2014 and then my troubles really began. Now living in Leeds, I was short on work there, so travelled back to Sheffield regularly on the M1, via trains, on the National Express - usually alone. I would then DJ alone, for upwards of 5 hours, and then return home, where I would sleep - wake up alone, spend all day alone as my then girlfriend went to work, finding music, chasing gigs - mind constantly whirring, rarely allowing myself time to see friends, to see family or to relax - there were bills to pay and music was the only way I was going to pay them - and I would make it work. 

Playing indie bangers at Bumper in Liverpool - I caught the train and after the venue closed at 5am, I waited until 8am for the first train home sat on the steps outside Lime St Station. 

I fell into the worst part of my depression after the collapse of two relationships in quick succession - left alone to stew and process that heartbreak and misery for many hours a day as well as the usual non-stop work, travel, work, travel to work, travel work, work and non-stop work, that no-one even noticed that I wasn’t ok, because they were so used to not hearing from me. The assumption was (and still is in many cases) that I was that “funny guy” on their Facebook, that made them laugh or dance when they saw me (probably constantly drunk at this point, because I was absolutely fucking miserable) and not the guy that spent hours and hours on end in bed all day cry-laughing at himself for being a fucking hopeless loser and focussing on all the wrong things in a constant downward spiral of epic proportions. 

First ever designated dressing room at The Leadmill in Sheffield. 

A wonderful doctor friend of mine, Sarah, recognised I was depressed and encouraged me to visit my GP. I was in the GP for all of ten seconds, before I was dismissed with the NHS depression helpline number and told “It’s about a 6 month wait if you want to talk to someone.” Sarah then took it upon herself to ring me every day, even if it was just for 5 minutes - she’s a true credit to the NHS, her profession and a fucking good mate. She rang me every single day, without fail. She encouraged me to form a focus - and I decided to relocate to Manchester for a fresh start and new challenge. 

I’ve since had further help, a course of counselling at which my counsellors immediate opening gambit, when I told her how I was feeling and that I didn’t know why, was to say “Well it sounds like you’re a little bit lonely.” Things clicked pretty fast after that and I realised how important it was to make time to see your loved ones, the very thing I had been missing out on for years. 

Solitary figure playing music after our final year films had been screened at university. Palmed my own Dad off on my friends so I could play music most of the night. 

I’ve spoken to very few musicians, performers and even photographers/videographers/cruise ship dancers/fridge repair technicians that haven’t told me that at some point during their career they’ve not felt lonely - it goes with the territory of being self-employed or working in the arts/entertainment industry. It’s all “smiles for the gram” then smashing in a fucking gram, to forget that you’re fucking miserable and sat on your own most of the time, scrolling through your phone hoping that someone, anyone messages you with a better offer than “do you fancy sitting on the sofa in your pants going over your setlist for tonight again whilst simultaneously listening to 18 shit house remixes of the latest shit house record that you don’t really like but they’re hammering it on daytime radio so you probably better download it - just incase.” 

I’ve started interacting with my DJ pals more and more over the last year or so - and also the bar staff and managers in venues that I work in. Human interaction is hugely important and DJing/photographing/playing live music in bars and clubs can be a very negative environment, particularly when the general public often leave their manners at the door, or on the toilet floor after they’ve smashed in a few lines/tequilas. There’s a whole heap of rejection, huge highs that come out of the blue and big lows that shake you to your core, financially and emotionally - losing gigs sucks, being skint sucks, your favourite venues being forced to close down sucks, realising you’re too old to understand why students like certain songs sucks, being constantly berated and belittled as you just try to do your job on a Saturday night, by drunken wankers that apparently know more about music and the performing of music than you do, yet somehow, they appear to not have been booked to play this particular weekend SUCKS, being used as a cloakroom sucks, having beer spilled all over the thousands of pounds worth of equipment you’ve scrimped and saved for over the years and all over your favourite t-shirt DOUBLY SUCKS and walking out of a bar or club hoping that you’ve done a good job but not really being sure and having to then drive 3 hours home, on your own, via motorway closures, speed restrictions and road kill generally fucking sucks. But you can’t do anything else once that love has gripped you. You will play music until you die, until you breathe your last breath of grotty smoke machine fluid, get your last electric shock from a terrible bashed in plug socket in whatever bashed in, held together with sellotape club/bar you are playing in on the night and float off into the big DJ heaven in the sky, where there is a big sign saying “No morons, no requests, just 100% good music.” It’s in our blood. 

DJing is better with mates. Me and the Clothes Line gang at The Harley, the night we found out that we had been nominated for an exposed award. 

I’ve also found things that help to combat my loneliness at work, and the best ones are as follows. Having a group chat via social media with other DJ’s/Musicians that are working at the same time as you - sending jokes and laughing at other people’s shit requests in a group is wonderful. We also have socials where we all meet in person and laugh at people and their shit requests. And all the DJ in-jokes come out and we sit and make snide remarks like a bunch of gassed up Beyonce’s. Taking time off from weekend gigs, to socialise with friends, family and my amazing supportive and understanding girlfriend (DJ Widow Numero Uno and the best thing that ever happened to me) - I now try and plan my calendar a few weeks/months in advance so I can book these occasions in. Plus it gives you something to look forward to on the weekends/whatever other anti-social hours you are working. Taking time to try and engage with the public when they’re making requests (to a certain extent - I don’t let people take the piss!) cos as before, human interaction (even with drunk strangers that want you to play Cotton Eye Joe because it’s Sharon’s birthday and she’s 45) = Hugely important. 

The SXC Bois DJ massive on a social in Manchester.

Also I’ve very much enjoyed collaborating during music making, or music playing once or twice a month, so I’m not just sat on my own making weird pop music in our back bedroom. Most importantly, taking a bit of time away from music (although it is the second most important thing in my entire life) to engage in other activities. If you’re like me and your entire focus is on one thing and it engulfs your entire existence, it can become a bit exhausting, particularly for your friends who really, REALLY don’t care who you think the next best UK underground trip-hop swing crossover band are going to be, they just don’t care. They want to talk about the football. Go and watch the football. Music/work will be waiting when you get back. 

Collaborating with Duncan Vaughan, performing as Klixz for the first time, February 2018, at The Tuesday Club, Sheffield. 

The invitations aren’t flying in thick and fast, but I think that some of my closer friends have now started to realise that I’m not just constantly busy these days and I do want to see them and socialise and have fun. I always have, I just didn’t make them aware of it very well. And life is busy and sometimes things get in the way of hanging out with one another, but laughing at inappropriate jokes with good friends over a decent cup of tea will always make me happier than playing Darude - Sandstorm to a festival crowd of 2,000 people adorned with glowsticks. Well, it’s kind of 50/50 actually. But you can do both, on the same day, if you’re really clever. 

I hope this advice helps someone, even if it just makes you chuckle thinking about me hiding under my duvet severely depressing having a cry whilst at the same time laughing myself for how pathetic I am. Whether you’re just starting out or years into a career in music - loneliness is a real issue in the music industry and beyond - as if a constant fear of inadequacy, perfectionism, constant rejection, living hand to mouth, threat of going deaf and never being able to hear music again, venues closing and your car insurance premiums rising through the roof isn’t enough to send you over the edge, add in total unabridged loneliness to the bundle and you’ve got an unhappy sandwich soaked in misery dripping right there. But you don’t have to eat it. You always have a choice. 

Fuck loneliness. 

Your pal, 

Jimmy x

Useful links: 

24/7 helpline for musicians suffering with mental health issues:

https://www.musicmindsmatter.org.uk/

Musician meetup - if you’re in a new area and looking for someone to natter about Lou Reed and do a bit of jamming with:

https://www.meetup.com/topics/musicians/?_cookie-check=UiZDil7HvilO41v0

Musician’s Union - fighting for better lives for musicians everyday and a whole host of other useful links and help: 

https://www.musiciansunion.org.uk/

The Samaritans - free phone number 116123 (UK)

https://www.samaritans.org/how-we-can-help-you/contact-us?gclid=Cj0KCQjwxtPYBRD6ARIsAKs1XJ5sL3-1_5YZp5YtWVhvwwnPIWkzdNs4rqLCMML72ZB6es__6mne5IsaAjnfEALw_wcB

Thanks for reading! <3 

[snapshotadeline]

Adeline on Hiatus 2020

This is how Adeline spent 2020, copy and pasted directly from discord with Darcy’s player and not edited because fuck it I’m lazy.

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

I think Adeline takes the time to work on personal projects, because it’s something she hasn’t had the time for and she misses it

cassandra july’s abs02/27/2020

She’s gonna be hanging out at Bold doing all her projects omg

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

a significant amount of time is probably spent in the blanket nest that is sure to become a semi-permanent fixture in Darcy’s office, yes

[1:46 PM]

the first couple weeks at least 4 people ask, on any given day, if Adeline would like a chair or something that isn’t the floor and 9 times out of 10 she answers that, that’s what Darcy’s lap is for

cassandra july’s abs02/27/2020

Omfg Darcy snorts

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

but I do think she limits that time to after therapy and on really bad days, because she doesn’t wanna be in the way and as much as she knows Darcy doesn’t mind working around her, she does know it’s not as conducive to work as they perhaps wish it was. And she honestly likes her blanket nest that she always makes sure to fold neatly and out of the way when she leaves (cos she starts just leaving them there to make it easier). She probably bakes more, tries new recipes, brings them in for Darcy’s employees. Makes them both dinner and brings it to the office when she knows Darcy is really caught up in work and probably won’t leave til late. And she has to explain to her therapist (who is high key worried about dependency issues) that she could work anywhere and she does work at the studio, but she enjoys the environment Bold offers and yes, that means being around her girlfriend, but she’d just as easily spend time in Darcy’s office WITHOUT Darcy there because, ultimately, she’s been working alone since she broke into the business, and while she has a handful of people who work at either studio, 90% of all work is done so separately, there’s rarely anyone there. But at Bold, if she gets particularly bored of working in Darcy’s office she can probably go find someone else willing to let her camp out in a corner. She probably does this at some point too, like finds herself in various offices and work spaces and people actually ask her opinion on like article layouts or some shit cos they realize that she might be able to help, probably cos she walks by someone who seems frustrated, back pedals and takes a look and just given an offhand suggestion to try this thing and it works. And like, she’s not even necessarily doing it on purpose but I think in a lot of ways, Bold thrives in a way it hasn’t before while Adeline is just hanging out.

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

OMG, so when Darcy hires whoever, to replace Ben, they’re just like “who is the woman in the beanie?” cos confusion as to why she’s always around and dressed like that to a group of people and there are a handful of distinct answers:

Boss’ girlfriend

Adeline Finley-Jackson (some include the word Fucking between her first and last names apparently)

Don’t you know your photographers?

Office mom - this sparks an argument over whether or not she’s best labelled mom or aunt, they do ultimately agree on mom

cassandra july’s abs02/27/2020

I LOVE HELPFUL ADELINE OMG

[2:17 PM]

LMFAO OMG YES

[2:18 PM]

The replacement ofc doesn’t ask Darcy

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

I mean, to be fair, in a work environment asking coworkers before asking the boss is usually how one goes about gaining information. but it is possible the strange array of answers prompts them to be like “So… I’ve kinda gathered who she is, but why is she here?” Adeline, walking in to flop down into her nest “Cos I can be.”

cassandra july’s abs02/27/2020

This is very true

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

Cos I think they try to crowdsource that answer to but no one has an actual answer and some people are just like “She’s been hanging around longer than I’ve been here.”

[2:25 PM]

The person just looking at Adeline, who is sat in her nest with a lollipop and her laptop, so confused and turning to Darcy like “Does she work here?”

“When I want to.”

cassandra july’s abs02/27/2020

LMAO

[2:29 PM]

Darcy is “Don’t worry about it.”

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

“You look like you could use a muffin. They’re in a box in the breakroom. Go. Get the muffin. Eat the muffin. Don’t stress.”

The person just kinda does what they’re told because a) muffins and b) it seems like the less confusing option

OMG some executive or something in the industry is on a visit and asks how Darcy got Adeline on her staff/ if it’s weird given they’re dating and Darcy is just like “She’s not my employee.”

“But we walked by that office, she was working.”

“She does that for fun. She wasn’t hired to do it, she wasn’t asked to do it, she just started doing it. And I’ve learned not to question what my girlfriend chooses to do in her spare time.”

[2:41 PM]

And it probably comes up as a concern with some people that maybe they’re taking advantage of it, when they ask Adeline’s help with stuff but what none of them pick up on, until she goes back to working, and is thus only in the office a couple days a week for more than like an hour, is that all they’re doing is learning from a resource that is freely offered to them.

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

Please imagine Adeline (after having the IT people make sure EVERY computer in the office is set to sleep when the power button is pressed) walking up on someone completely stressing themself out over a thing, hitting the power button and in response to the following freak out going “You need to stop. Five minutes. Take five minutes. Go for a walk, get a drink, eat a snack. Just sit here and do anything but that and then go back to it. You’ll thank me later.” And then not only does she ultimately train them to do it to each other, she trains them to do it to themselves. To take those 5 minutes when things just AREN’T working and step away and reset cos like 9 times out of 10 they figure out what the hell was wrong way faster than if they didn’t. And they even manage to apply it to non-computer related work.

Though I feel like the first time she does it to Darcy she sits in Darcy’s lap and physically forces her to give her attention for those 5 minutes.

[2:57 PM]

And cos the employees learn from Adeline they start to turn things in that need less revisions, which makes Darcy’s work a hell of a lot easier

cassandra july’s abs02/27/2020

THIS IS DELIGHTFUL

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

And like, her logic is simple: better a 5 minute break to reset than spending all this time doing nothing but frustrating yourself.

It’s something she taught herself with editing photos. If the thing doesn’t look right STOP LOOKING AT IT and try again later when everything has stopped blurring together. And all it takes is 5 minutes for that little reset.

cassandra july’s abs02/27/2020

She gets kisses and “thank you for looking after them”

Aka Adeline goes on hiatus and accidentally revolutionizes the way Bold works

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

“They just seemed so stressed.”

[3:23 PM]

But OMG they come back from Disney (in which Adeline was very serious about there being no business outside of absolute emergencies) and Darcy expects things to be a bit of a mess, cos that’s how it’s been other times, but it’s not, cos her little family has figured out how to get things done without constantly needing her approval on every little thing cos they’re actually confident in what they’ve come up with

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

Which, of course, people take notice of because Bold was amazing before but now it’s even better and that’s HARD to do so there’s an interview with Darcy about it, and like you don’t give away your secrets so the answer is that Adeline made the entire office her personal project and the interviewer is just ??? Because what does that even mean? She’s a photographer. But like Darcy’s just like “You’d have to ask her.” Because let’s be real, even Darcy isn’t 100% sure what happened, she just knows Adeline did.

[3:33 PM]

“The best thing that ever happened to me, happened to Bold. Adeline.”

cassandra july’s abs02/27/2020

Omfg “She was the missing piece of the Bold puzzle.”

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

Omg imagine Adeline forgetting Darcy had an interview and like realizes as she’s walking in, cos she hears her name and is just like, “Didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll come back.” And even the interviewer is like “Can you stay though?”

cassandra july’s abs02/27/2020

DARCY PATS HER LAP

I feel like, by next year when Adeline proposes people are almost more scared of Adeline than they are Darcy because in being with Darcy and working on her mental health, Adeline grows as a person. She gains stability and in that stability she gains confidence. Sure, she still rocks skinny jeans and a band tee with a beanie more times than she doesn’t, but she walks like the punk she is. Head held high, shoulders back, and smile soft. The first person to tell you off for being a dick but also the first person to react to a child crying. She finally finds the balance she’s been looking for since becoming a professional photographer. The balance between the person she is and the work she does.

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

Adeline just happily doing so, settling herself in Darcy’s lap like the fucking throne it is. And like, what was supposed to be an interview with Darcy turns into an interview with what is, essentially, the fashion industry’s power couple. And like Adeline is very open about what she did because yes, she holds a loyalty to Darcy and in turn to Bold, she’s the kind of person who wants to see the world thrive and if no one out there is pushing as hard as Bold is, then the industry stagnates. Nothing gets better. To be on top without challenge is to become complacent and prone to falling.

[orbemnews]

Prabal Gurung on Anti-Asian Violence, Discrimination and the Duties of Success Prabal Gurung, the Nepalese-American designer, has been a vocal proponent of inclusion and diversity since his first show in 2009. In the wake of the Atlanta shootings and an upswing in anti-Asian violence, he talked to The New York Times about his own experiences and what his work has to do with it. How do you grapple with what’s going on? To watch a video of a 65-year-old woman being brutally attacked is triggering and heart-wrenching, not just for me but for my friends and people from my community. We all are so worried for our loved ones. My mother goes on walks every morning and evening. She’s 75-years-old. A couple of weeks ago, I bought a blond wig for her, and I said, “You know, just wear it when you go outside, wear a hat, wear glasses.” She tried it on. But the next day she came over to my place, and she was like: “I’m not going to wear it. Just buy me a big, strong cane.” That is the reality of this. Is that why you were an organizer of a Black and Asian solidarity march with other designers and activists in March? We didn’t know how many people were going to show up, but thousands and thousands of people showed up across races and gender: L.G.B.T.Q. friends, Latin friends, Black friends, Asian friends, white friends. What we recognize is that for this particular moment to turn into a movement, we have to have all the marginalized groups and our white counterparts coming together. You know, when the pandemic started, I had an option of leaving the city. I decided to stay in New York and really participate in all of these protests and marches simply because I knew that, individually, I could create a noise. Collectively, I could be part of a revolution. I knew how it felt to be othered. I knew how it felt to turn the pages of a magazine and never see someone who looked like you. Have you felt discrimination over the course of your career in fashion? While I have been really embraced and supported by the industry, we are so tokenized as designers. We are part of like, “Oh, a wave of Asian designers.” Then there’s a wave of Black designers, a wave of women designers. We never say a wave of white designers. We are never considered designers on our own. So that kind of implicit bias, that kind of microaggression, we face it all the time. Did you experience it when you were trying to get financial backing for your business? For my 10-year anniversary I was at a potential investors meeting, and one asked, “What does the brand stand for?” I said: “The America that I see is very colorful. The dinner table that I see is very colorful. It’s diverse. That’s the America that was promised to me. That’s why I came here, because I was a misfit back home.” And he says to me, “Well, you don’t look American.” I looked at him, and I was like, “You mean to say I don’t look white?” “It’s OK,” I said. “I’ve been in business in America for 20 years. I’m a citizen. I make more than 90 percent of my clothes in New York City. I am actively involved in social causes. I’ve contributed to my taxes.” Needless to say, I didn’t get the investment. I’m still an independent brand. I’ll never forget how little he made me feel. What about in terms of how people see your work? Once I did a collection inspired by Mustang, in Nepal. It’s a beautiful place. There were some big gongs. The fashion director from a retail platform came over and said: “If I want to look at that collection, I can look at a History Channel. We don’t want anything cool from you. We want pretty.” I didn’t fight back at that time. I was just like, “I need to save my business.” So I kept quiet. But we have to really ask ourselves: Things we consider beautiful, things we consider chic, food we like, music we listen to, where is it coming from? It’s a very Eurocentric, colonial point of view, and we have to dismantle it. Is that part of your responsibility? I remember right after my first collection, when I was dressing a lot of celebrities, I called my mother back home in Nepal. My mom said, “That’s great.” And then she said: “You know who you should be dressing? Michelle Obama. She stands for something.” A year later, Michelle Obama had worn a dress of mine, and I called my mother. And then she goes: “I’m happy for you. Congratulations. But remember, this is no longer yours. This success is no longer yours. It belongs to everyone who felt marginalized the way you did. So now it’s up to you what you’re going to do with it.” A Rise in Attacks Against Asian-Americans A torrent of hate and violence against Asian-Americans around the U.S. began last spring, in the early days of the coronavirus pandemic. Community leaders say the bigotry was spurred by the rhetoric of former President Trump, who referred to the coronavirus as the “China virus.” In New York, a wave of xenophobia and violence has been compounded by the economic fallout of the pandemic, which has dealt a severe blow to New York’s Asian-American communities. Many community leaders say racist assaults are being overlooked by the authorities. In January, an 84-year-old man from Thailand was violently slammed to the ground in San Francisco, resulting in his death at a hospital two days later. The attack, captured on video, has become a rallying cry. Eight people, including six women of Asian descent, were killed in the Atlanta massage parlor shootings on March 16. The suspect’s motives are under investigation, but Asian communities across the United States are on alert because of a surge in attacks against Asian-Americans over the past year. On March 30, The New York Police Department said it was searching for a man who kicked a 65-year-old woman, stomped on her and made anti-Asian statements. Part of what you are trying to do with your work is educate people about the nuances of different Asian cultures, right? Asian-Americans are the fastest growing immigrant group in the U.S. electorate, with roots all over the world. We are diverse. I look East Asian, right? But I’m from Southeast Asia. I sit in the center of the brown Asians and the other Asians. The wealth disparity between the richest Asian-Americans and the poorest is insanely high. I think maybe the largest of any ethnic group in this country. In spite of that, there is a myth of the model minority, of crazy rich Asians. That’s why “Parasite” is important, why “Minari” is important. Give us the platform so we can tell our stories. This stereotyping doesn’t make you angry? I’m OK with people making mistakes because it can start a dialogue that leads to a solution. I refuse to cancel people unless there’s something really harmful. Fashion is one of the hardest and most arduous industries, but it’s also an industry that can reward you in the most splendid, incredible way. And it is the only industry where in 10 minutes on a runway we can really change the narrative of what the culture can be. That’s the power of fashion. I am a living example of it, coming from a country like Nepal where nobody believed I could be a designer. To be able to live that dream and to have this platform. It’s been really incredible. This interview has been edited for length and clarity. Source link Orbem News #antiAsian #discrimination #duties #Gurung #Prabal #success #Violence

[darkmasterkattsvault-arc]

Sober Adeline on Hiatus 2020

this is just a bunch of info I sent to @clamoringvoices at the beginning of the year about how Adeline ultimately spent 2020. copy and pasted directly from discord and not edited because fuck it I’m lazy.

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

I think Adeline takes the time to work on personal projects, because it's something she hasn't had the time for and she misses it

cassandra july’s abs02/27/2020

She’s gonna be hanging out at Bold doing all her projects omg

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

a significant amount of time is probably spent in the blanket nest that is sure to become a semi-permanent fixture in Darcy's office, yes

[1:46 PM]

the first couple weeks at least 4 people ask, on any given day, if Adeline would like a chair or something that isn't the floor and 9 times out of 10 she answers that, that's what Darcy's lap is for

cassandra july’s abs02/27/2020

Omfg Darcy snorts

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

but I do think she limits that time to after therapy and on really bad days, because she doesn't wanna be in the way and as much as she knows Darcy doesn't mind working around her, she does know it's not as conducive to work as they perhaps wish it was. And she honestly likes her blanket nest that she always makes sure to fold neatly and out of the way when she leaves (cos she starts just leaving them there to make it easier). She probably bakes more, tries new recipes, brings them in for Darcy's employees. Makes them both dinner and brings it to the office when she knows Darcy is really caught up in work and probably won't leave til late. And she has to explain to her therapist (who is high key worried about dependency issues) that she could work anywhere and she does work at the studio, but she enjoys the environment Bold offers and yes, that means being around her girlfriend, but she'd just as easily spend time in Darcy's office WITHOUT Darcy there because, ultimately, she's been working alone since she broke into the business, and while she has a handful of people who work at either studio, 90% of all work is done so separately, there's rarely anyone there. But at Bold, if she gets particularly bored of working in Darcy's office she can probably go find someone else willing to let her camp out in a corner. She probably does this at some point too, like finds herself in various offices and work spaces and people actually ask her opinion on like article layouts or some shit cos they realize that she might be able to help, probably cos she walks by someone who seems frustrated, back pedals and takes a look and just given an offhand suggestion to try this thing and it works. And like, she's not even necessarily doing it on purpose but I think in a lot of ways, Bold thrives in a way it hasn't before while Adeline is just hanging out.

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

OMG, so when Darcy hires whoever, to replace Ben, they're just like "who is the woman in the beanie?" cos confusion as to why she's always around and dressed like that to a group of people and there are a handful of distinct answers:

Boss' girlfriend

Adeline Finley-Jackson (some include the word Fucking between her first and last names apparently)

Don't you know your photographers?

Office mom - this sparks an argument over whether or not she's best labelled mom or aunt, they do ultimately agree on mom

cassandra july’s abs02/27/2020

I LOVE HELPFUL ADELINE OMG

[2:17 PM]

LMFAO OMG YES

[2:18 PM]

The replacement ofc doesn't ask Darcy

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

I mean, to be fair, in a work environment asking coworkers before asking the boss is usually how one goes about gaining information. but it is possible the strange array of answers prompts them to be like "So... I've kinda gathered who she is, but why is she here?" Adeline, walking in to flop down into her nest "Cos I can be."

cassandra july’s abs02/27/2020

This is very true

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

Cos I think they try to crowdsource that answer to but no one has an actual answer and some people are just like "She's been hanging around longer than I've been here."

[2:25 PM]

The person just looking at Adeline, who is sat in her nest with a lollipop and her laptop, so confused and turning to Darcy like "Does she work here?"

"When I want to."

cassandra july’s abs02/27/2020

LMAO

[2:29 PM]

Darcy is "Don't worry about it."

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

"You look like you could use a muffin. They're in a box in the breakroom. Go. Get the muffin. Eat the muffin. Don't stress."

The person just kinda does what they're told because a) muffins and b) it seems like the less confusing option

OMG some executive or something in the industry is on a visit and asks how Darcy got Adeline on her staff/ if it's weird given they're dating and Darcy is just like "She's not my employee."

"But we walked by that office, she was working."

"She does that for fun. She wasn't hired to do it, she wasn't asked to do it, she just started doing it. And I've learned not to question what my girlfriend chooses to do in her spare time."

[2:41 PM]

And it probably comes up as a concern with some people that maybe they're taking advantage of it, when they ask Adeline's help with stuff but what none of them pick up on, until she goes back to working, and is thus only in the office a couple days a week for more than like an hour, is that all they're doing is learning from a resource that is freely offered to them.

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

Please imagine Adeline (after having the IT people make sure EVERY computer in the office is set to sleep when the power button is pressed) walking up on someone completely stressing themself out over a thing, hitting the power button and in response to the following freak out going "You need to stop. Five minutes. Take five minutes. Go for a walk, get a drink, eat a snack. Just sit here and do anything but that and then go back to it. You'll thank me later." And then not only does she ultimately train them to do it to each other, she trains them to do it to themselves. To take those 5 minutes when things just AREN'T working and step away and reset cos like 9 times out of 10 they figure out what the hell was wrong way faster than if they didn't. And they even manage to apply it to non-computer related work.

Though I feel like the first time she does it to Darcy she sits in Darcy's lap and physically forces her to give her attention for those 5 minutes.

[2:57 PM]

And cos the employees learn from Adeline they start to turn things in that need less revisions, which makes Darcy's work a hell of a lot easier

cassandra july’s abs02/27/2020

THIS IS DELIGHTFUL

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

And like, her logic is simple: better a 5 minute break to reset than spending all this time doing nothing but frustrating yourself.

It's something she taught herself with editing photos. If the thing doesn't look right STOP LOOKING AT IT and try again later when everything has stopped blurring together. And all it takes is 5 minutes for that little reset.

cassandra july’s abs02/27/2020

She gets kisses and “thank you for looking after them”

Aka Adeline goes on hiatus and accidentally revolutionizes the way Bold works

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

"They just seemed so stressed."

[3:23 PM]

But OMG they come back from Disney (in which Adeline was very serious about there being no business outside of absolute emergencies) and Darcy expects things to be a bit of a mess, cos that's how it's been other times, but it's not, cos her little family has figured out how to get things done without constantly needing her approval on every little thing cos they're actually confident in what they've come up with

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

Which, of course, people take notice of because Bold was amazing before but now it's even better and that's HARD to do so there's an interview with Darcy about it, and like you don't give away your secrets so the answer is that Adeline made the entire office her personal project and the interviewer is just ??? Because what does that even mean? She's a photographer. But like Darcy's just like "You'd have to ask her." Because let's be real, even Darcy isn't 100% sure what happened, she just knows Adeline did.

[3:33 PM]

"The best thing that ever happened to me, happened to Bold. Adeline."

cassandra july’s abs02/27/2020

Omfg “She was the missing piece of the Bold puzzle.”

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

Omg imagine Adeline forgetting Darcy had an interview and like realizes as she's walking in, cos she hears her name and is just like, "Didn't mean to interrupt. I'll come back." And even the interviewer is like "Can you stay though?"

cassandra july’s abs02/27/2020

DARCY PATS HER LAP

I feel like, by next year when Adeline proposes people are almost more scared of Adeline than they are Darcy because in being with Darcy and working on her mental health, Adeline grows as a person. She gains stability and in that stability she gains confidence. Sure, she still rocks skinny jeans and a band tee with a beanie more times than she doesn't, but she walks like the punk she is. Head held high, shoulders back, and smile soft. The first person to tell you off for being a dick but also the first person to react to a child crying. She finally finds the balance she's been looking for since becoming a professional photographer. The balance between the person she is and the work she does.

darkmasterkatt02/27/2020

Adeline just happily doing so, settling herself in Darcy's lap like the fucking throne it is. And like, what was supposed to be an interview with Darcy turns into an interview with what is, essentially, the fashion industry's power couple. And like Adeline is very open about what she did because yes, she holds a loyalty to Darcy and in turn to Bold, she's the kind of person who wants to see the world thrive and if no one out there is pushing as hard as Bold is, then the industry stagnates. Nothing gets better. To be on top without challenge is to become complacent and prone to falling.

[purplesurveys]

788

How long would you have to date someone for before moving in together? I wouldn’t know and I don’t have a good basis for this answer, given that I’ve dated the same person throughout high school and college and we’ve been staying at our parents’ this whole time, and we’ve technically waited it out for six years now. Outside of that, I don’t know how long I’d generally be willing to wait before deciding to move in.

Have you ever taken a meteorology class?   I haven’t. That sounds right up my alley though, and if I wasn’t super particular with my free choice electives I definitely see myself taking a class like this.

What’s your favorite kind of sushi? When it comes to authentic Japanese sushi, I like experimenting with more exotic fish so like uni, unagi, and other less-familiar fish. But I also really like Americanized sushi, especially deep-fried ones with cream cheese and come with some sort of spiced mayo dip.

How much was the last bill that you paid? I’ve never had to pay any sort of bill, but I think the last one that arrived at our house was the electricity bill. Didn’t get a chance to know how much it was though.

Do you ever eat fast food? A few times a month, I’d say. It’s not always my go-to purchase, but if I’m trying to save money or if my orgmates want to get lunch delivered, we would typically go forrrrrr Jollibee, KFC, McDonald’s or Bonchon haha.

What was the cause of the worst low point you’ve had in your life? I had two low points, once in Grade 6 and the second time was in my adjustment to college. Both times I was coming from a place where I had no friends and everyone else did, and I was left having an incredibly hard time fitting in or belonging.

Do you think you’d enjoy being a scientist in Antarctica? Assuming this question assumes that I’m good at science and have a specialization in it, yeah I’d give it a shot. I like the cold and Antarctica has always interested me. I’ve never been to an uninhabited area either, so that aspect would be cool for me as well.

What are some of your favorite types of cheeses? I’m not super well-versed in the types of cheeses, but one time I tried feta and my life was permanently changed for the better lol. Every time we go back to that buffet, I always just dash for their cheese section and get a bunch of feta and bread.

When did you last feel like your privacy was invaded? Last week. It was beginning to feel increasingly wrong for me to keep hiding this Tumblr from my girlfriend so I went ahead and told her about it and explained what it’s all about and what I do here. It’s not her fault because it was my choice after all, but in the first few minutes of it I did feel like I gave up my own privacy and in a sense, made myself feel like it got invaded lmao. Her reaction was great though, she was super chill and didn’t press on knowing my URL because she wanted me to keep this blog as just *my* thing.

Have you ever wanted to be a firefighter? I did, as a kid.

Do your parents volunteer anywhere?   No they don’t.

Did anything out of the ordinary happen yesterday?   My mom went back to work yesterday, and it was oddly calming to have some sense of normalcy again, resentful feelings for her aside.

Do you own more than 50 books? There’s a big chance that I do, but I think the count stops somewhere around 50 as well.

Where were you the last time someone took a picture of you? At the exact same chair I’m sitting on now. That time, I was posing with the box of sushi that Angela surprised me with for my birthday.

Were you born before 1987?   No, I came more than a decade after that.

What was the last thing you misplaced and couldn’t find? The earphones Gabie gave me for Christmas :/ I was so distraught when I couldn’t find it and if I remember correctly I didn’t talk to her for like two days.

Do you have a bachelor’s degree? Not yet. I can almost smell it though.

Have you seen snow in the past 6 months? I haven’t seen snow in 22 years.

How old were you when you became financially independent from your parents? Welp, I’ll update you when I actually am lol.

What were some things that were popular when you were a kid? Game Boy, PSP, Pokemon cards, Yu-Gi-Oh cards, those art sets from the 90s/00s, Legos, Beyblades, High School Musical, the original TeenNick shows... they’re the first ones I remembered off the top of my head.

Have you ever drank Darjeeling tea?   I haven’t, but I have seen The Darjeeling Limited by Wes Anderson and it’s one of my favorite works of his, heh.

When was the last time you turned on your home’s heating? In a country where temperatures can reach 42C and where 27C is cold enough for us to whip out our hoodies, we definitely don’t need heating here.

Does your kitchen have an island? It does not.

Have you ever bought or sold something on Facebook Marketplace? No, I find it sketchy. I prefer closed buy-and-sell groups for the communities that I’m part of, because at least I’m aware of who’s selling and it would be safe if we were to meet up.

Do you know anyone famous enough to have their own Wikipedia page? My great-uncle and a big chunk of my family, maternal grandpa’s side, given that we’re part of a political clan. I also have a number of professors who are well known in the local media industry and they have their own pages too.

You’re having guests over for dinner… what do you cook for them? I’d sweetly ask my dad to make his risotto HAHAHA, because if there’s anyone who can pull off dinner, it’s him.

Have you ever watched The Twilight Zone?   I’ve watched an episode or two back when I was around 10, but given that the Internet was a much smaller place back then, I wasn’t able to find avenues that provided the other episodes.

What has been your most memorable Halloween costume? Dressing up as Sofie last Halloween 2015. It was the most low-effort costume among me and my friends (Chelsea had to buy a pre-made costume of Anna from Frozen and Eva made a frappe costume from scratch) but everyone ended up having a field day over mine lol, even though all I did was wear a little black dress and mess up my hair and make it frizzy as fuck, and wear heavy winged eyeliner, just like Sofie. 

What was the last appointment you had? Opthalmologist appointment.

Are you having a good day today? It’s been nice to me. It’s not too hot this afternoon, my thesis had just gotten 100% approved, and I’m having coffee.

[dillinger]

MICHELLE LAMY

MONTAGE OF A DREAM DEFERRED

After nine years and 45 exhibitions, Red Bull Space Paris is moving to new digs – but not before ceding the floor to an exceptional woman, Michèle Lamy, for one last event. The collaborative and protean sound installation, to be shown during RBMA Festival Paris, will be our farewell to Rue du Mail. 

As one of fashion's last true eccentrics, Lamy needs no introduction. Over the course of their 27-year partnership, she and husband Rick Owens have been essential in bringing radicality back into the fashion limelight.

At 1,600 years of age (as she likes to repeat,) she remains a fantastical figure, with her jewel-encrusted gold teeth, black-tipped fingers studded with esoteric rings, and trademark “third eye” highlighting her own – steel-blue – eyes. A veritable creature of her own making, she is a cross between witch, shaman and gypsy, all the while maintaining one foot in the world of art, another in fashion, one hand in design and another in architecture – her head swirling with music.

Ripped out of her bucolic Jura upbringing by the May 68 upheaval, the student of Deleuze soon embarked on a myriad of adventures. After stints as a law student, stripper, performer and (conventional) dancer, she left France at the dawn of the 1970s for the United States, drawn by its counter-culture like a moth to a flame: “I was fascinated by American music, literature, and culture. I was in love with Bob Dylan and his unusual phrasing, his way of using language,” she recalls. “Either way, French culture, for me, ended with Proust. It was American literature and music that raised me. I went from May 68 to Studio 54!” Her California dreaming of a bohemian life, surrounded by her idols, like transgender provocateur Vaginal Davis, or fashion freak Leigh Bowery, quickly became a one-way ticket for L.A., where she set up her own fashion line, LAMY, alongside a restaurant, "Les Deux Cafés," located in a former Las Palmas parking lot, with its kitchen across the street – providing a de-facto spectacle in the form of its waiters crossing the street to serve their clients. 

The Café provided Los Angeles with its much-needed push into renewed relevance, drawing in a high-and-low crowd ranging from the most exotic freaks of the 90s underground to Madonna (who stopped in to celebrate a Grammy win,) and Sharon Stone, who regaled guests with impromptu musical numbers. Yet “Les Deux Cafés” was also home to a cabaret, where everything became possible, and where Michèle would satisfy her other, more secret passion for music: “It was [70s LGBT figurehead] Hélène Hazera who made everything click for me when I was hanging out with her and the rest of the Gazolines gang in the 70s,” recalls Michèle. “She told me my voice sounded like Marianne Oswald's. She played me one of the singer's songs, which was written for her on the back of a napkin by Langston Hughes. That's how I discovered this sublime poet.” Hughes, the charismatic gay poet who has been a central figure of the 1920s Harlem Renaissance, has haunted Lamy ever since, prompting her to keep his poetry vital with her own musical adaptations. 

Under the masterful direction of Bobby Woods, the Deux Cafés Cabaret quickly became a den of possibility – and extremes. “Our band was called the Deux Love Orchestra, a sort of house band to the restaurant,” explains Bobby. “Our weekend shows, which eventually became a weekly packed-house kind of affair, would go on into the early morning, and feature lots of renowned surprise guests. Larry Klein, who won a bunch of Grammys, was part of the band, and his ex-wife Joni Mitchell stopped by to sing a few times, as did Boy George. It was incredible, a hot mess – one time, a bunch of lambs even joined the party! But the highlight was always Michèle's performance. Her smoky voice converged with the lyrics and poetry to create a surreal atmosphere, and the whole audience was subjugated. We recorded a number of LPs, some of them live from the Cabaret. At the time, Michèle and Rick lived in his apartment across the street, which only had a toaster for a kitchen – so all dinners where toast-based. Rick started having runway shows in the Cabaret, with the Deux Love Orchestra providing the soundtrack as the models worked the catwalk.”

In 2003, Lamy would turn the page on her L.A. adventure and move to Paris with Owens, who remains one of the fashion's capital most audacious figures. The couple moved into the “Palais,” an immense town house just a stone's throw from the National Assembly, that was once the property of the Socialist Party. The unreal palace was designed, decorated and organized from floor to ceiling as per the couple's wishes: raw concrete walls left bare or covered in artwork, African busts and brutalist furniture – and, of course, a pulsating electronic soundtrack. Thus opened a new chapter in Lamy's life, which she would summarize with grace in an Oyster Magazine interview: “In my twenties, I wanted to escape my rich provincial upbringing, so I abandoned studies as a defence attorney to striptease. I was involved in the May, 1968 protests in Paris, and in the early seventies I wanted to be Bob Dylan. My thirties were spent living the Californian Dream surrounded by artists, and giving birth to my daughter Scarlett Rouge. My forties were an entrepreneurial era in Los Angeles where I met my honey, Rick Owens, and I will spend my fifties enjoying life with him.”

Over the last decade, Michèle, who listens only to electronic music and hip-hop, has become a muse for some of today's most brilliant musicians. She thus collaborated with artist Matthew Stone and gay rapper Zebra Katz for one of Owens' shows; was featured as an unnaturally magnetic figure in the video for FKA Twigs' M3LL155X; commissioned food-based music from UNKLE's James Lavelle for her Bargenale multimedia installation at the 2015 Venice Biennale; shared a passion for boxing with Mos Def; got involved in the creative process of A$AP Rocky's “At. Long. Last. A$AP” – even if she regrettably failed to put him in a dress; she scored hip-hop darling Dexter Navy's “Paris Now – Saint” short for Red Bull Music Academy; guested on Tangiers’ latest “Black Asteroid”; produced and starred in the video for Christeene's “Butt Muscle”. And of course, she counts Kanye West as one of her die-hard fans: “we get along famously,” she laughs. “He thinks he's white, and I think I'm black!”

The renaissance woman/modern-day muse could not refuse Red Bull Studios Paris invitation to record a score for her installation “Montage of a Dream Deferred,”which she created as a living homage to Langston Hughes. “But I am not a singer, or a musician, or a composer. Music for me is a meeting of the minds, a matter of performance, collaboration – and whimsy,” claims Michèle. “So, I jumped at the opportunity to take part in this project, without really having an idea of what I would do. At the same time, the contemporary artist Nico Vascellari invited me to collaborate with him on his Scholomance show at the Palais de Tokyo. That's how the idea for this collaboration took shape.”

It was thus in the intimate atmosphere of Red Bull Studios Paris that the Lavascar project was born: eight tracks full of brutal percussion and industrial soundscapes amid which Michèle's voice, all the way to her demonic laughter, takes on a new spatiality: “Michèle gave me her full support and trust,” says Vascellari, “and I told her I wanted to work with her on something very primitive and intuitive, based on rhythm and vocals, which, in a way, are humanity's first instruments. But I also wanted to try and capture what is inexpressible about her, her incredible presence and magnetism. As she moved and danced in the studio, her rings and jewelry would knock against each other, and I felt it necessary to document and record this energy. Now, when I listen to these eight tracks, the image that comes to mind is of Michèle in a cave, surrounded by wild animals raring to eat her alive, and with only her noise and her poetry to keep them at bay.”

Montage of a Dream Deferred, an exhibition and recording by Michèle Lamy, in collaboration with Nico Vascellari, Matthew Stone, Matt Lambert, Scarlett Rouge. Limited edition vinyl (500 copies,) available at the opening. 

From september 25th to october 20th Opening reception september 25th 6pm-9pm ​Red Bull Space Paris, 12 rue du Mail, 75002 Paris