#the sweat glitter target audience: me

[pichirobi]

love to hate him & hate to love him

[btranwrites]

Trench Complications

a Liam An short

Whew! Been cooking this one for a while, but it's out! Liam throws a drag night in hope of searching for the perpetrator behind the kidnappings. And he got more than he asked for.

I'm pretty proud of this one! Liam is no longer just a badass getting his way all the time, and there's more to him than just an aloof executive. And I finally get to make it Lovecraftian! If you do check it out, let me know what you think!

I.

Liam dropped onto the steel chair with a heave. The glitter on his exposed chest and shirt was itchy and, to be honest, disgustingly grimy from the sweat; stage lights were as hot as they were blinding.

The music went on, blaring life onto the brick factory walls that sided the Trench. The crowd calmed down, their attention shifting from him back to Miss Sparks as the drag queen left him on the chair and returned to the front of the stage, continuing her job enchanting the patrons of the bar, swaying their gazes with her every exaggerated yet fluid movement. His job as representative of the night's sponsor—and a glorified, glistening human stage prop—was now to simply sit back, spread out, and look hot and bothered.

And for his job as a member of the Hall of Heroes, to appear just intoxicated enough to look vulnerable.

(the rest of the story under the cut; also available on my website)

The crowd was better than Liam expected. The Trench was a bar squeezed between factories and warehouses a stroll away from Marion Square, a sliver of life tucked away in the depths of urban normativity, one that would have been immeasurably suffocating if not for defiant extravagance. This piece of queer history had been struggling for a while, but tonight the taps were flowing, the program was full, the tickets sold well, and the audience was more colourful than the dreadfully monochromatic pie charts of Enstern's demographic reach Lee showed him earlier.

A shapely calf wrapped in sequin thigh highs stomped onto the steel chair right in front of his crotch, jolting Liam right back to the stage. Miss Sparks was behind him, pressing one velvet-gloved hand against his bare chest, scraping it with glitter as she dragged her hand up with the song's rising crescendo and the crowd getting on their feet. It reached his neck, to his chin, and Miss Sparks tilted his face to the side and delivered the last of the song's chorus to his face and a screaming audience.

The song snuffed out from the blaring speakers, and in thunderous applause the velvet glove, with surprising strength, snatched Liam up to his feet and to the front of the stage.

"Is it not lovely to have executive meat on stage with us tonight," Miss Sparks cooed to the mic and the crowd laughed.

"The honour is ours!" Liam bowed, forward enough and stumbled enough to look just sober, and back up. "It is an honour to sponsor and enable such a community treasure," he winked at Miss Sparks, who swatted playfully at his cheek. "Enjoy the rest of the night, folks, and remember, Enstern Westside opens later this year, just a short stroll away from Marion Square!"

Liam exited the stage as the speakers roared back to life with music and Miss Sparks resumed the program.

The night was well advertised, and well attended. This should be diverse enough a crowd to be a diverse enough hunting ground. And if all that stagecraft went right, Liam had set himself up as the shiniest target.

The bait had been cast, and the Shard Reaper waited.

II.

It didn't take long for Liam to find where Lee was. The man was among the few business suits in the bar, leaning against a post behind a balustrade one floor above, scowling at his phone. In a bar. He was on his phone in a bar, oblivious to the fact that Liam was getting swarmed on the dance floor by two very excited and nearly just as intoxicated girls insisting an uncomfortable and awkward guy take pictures with him.

Well, this was for nothing. Whoever, or whatever, was targeting intoxicated people in Westside, if they were here, would have had more than enough time to see, and notice, Liam. He needed a break anyway. Acting also very excited and just as intoxicated, he kissed the awkward guy on the cheek. The girls squealed, snapping more pictures with their phones, then scream-mouthed a 'thank you' that did not reach his ears over the deafening music. Liam nodded and scream-mouthed back, and excused himself.

The upper deck was not as full. It was darker, and technically more quiet, but in dim lights the Glasslit Void came through more clearly to him. The murmurs of loneliness and desperation from bar patrons scratched his insides, thrumming in rhythm with the music as it grated all over him like coarse sand smelling like old sweat. But to be fair, everyone superhero or not had squeezed through a train station during peak hours before.

Some dude Liam was sure he could take down in less than five seconds stalked over to where Lee was standing, who was still scowling at his phone. He shot one thought of a full bladder at the man, who scampered off to the bathroom in the opposite direction as Liam stalked over behind Lee and sneaked a peek at his phone.

Not messages, but an article. Event sponsor lets loose on stage. Photos of Liam practically shirtless, drunken and messy. Hey, he looked good.

A representative of the company, Elizabeth Anderson, issued a statement in response to the indecency. "We are proud to have sponsored a community event that we hope can help revitalise an important and beloved community venue, and for a valued member of our team to contribute to the celebration of the queer community."

The comments were already arguing. Glacial was not widespread knowledge, so to the public, Liam was just some business major–looking rep dude from Enstern who did something slightly risqué. And happened to be good looking. As normal, factions formed. Outright slurs. Conservatives and moderates 'concerned' about respectability. But what was important was that according to the target for the night, the lefties, Liam 'slayed.'

"No working after hours, director," Liam whispered.

"Oh my god!" Lee jumped, spinning around. "Liam! Liam, there are articles— wait, you know?"

Liam slipped in next to Lee, elbows on the balustrade. It must have been almost two hours after Liam's appearance, but Miss Sparks was still flowing through the stage with grace and poise, now hosting some sort of trivia game.

"It's predictable," Liam said. "Check the engagement rate."

"I did," Lee was still scowling at his phone, now flicking at the screen at speed. "It's the highest we've ever got, and not just from Westside, but— hold on. Predictable? You… planned this?"

"Enstern is now hipper than ever," Liam grinned.

Lee blinked at him; he could almost hear the gears spinning. Liam continued. "We host a queer event. We, well, I, did something scandalous enough to nudge the respectable status quo, but not too much to topple the balance. As expected, drama accounts and outlets ate up anything they could blow out of proportion for traffic. Enstern issued a statement that demonstrated a slight progressive stance, and we ride the same old online arguments to more street cred in Westside."

Applause from the stage below sounded muffled; a trivia round just finished.

"And the articles? Don't they… don't they affect you?"

"Not the first time I was on 'the news,'" Liam winked. "And if you haven't noticed, they don't even remember who I am. These get stale quick on the news cycle, and we have the connections in the outlets to ensure that to be the case. How else do you think Liz got our statement in?"

And that the Man in the Mirror was a formidable force, with fingers in a lot of pies, and knew lots of buttons to press, and how. But Lee didn't need to know that.

Lee shook his head eventually, a smirk ghosting the corners of his lips. "It's an honour to witness Ms. Chauhan's right hand at work."

Liam bowed, one hand on his chest. "As I said before, and I meant it, it is dealt with. So loosen up! Why are you scowling at your phone in a bar? I counted more than three guys approaching you, did you know?"

That same random dude stumbled out of the men's restroom from behind Lee, darting eyes reorienting. Liam shot another thought at the man that tasted like burning bile and crawling stomachache. The man ran back into the bathroom.

"I uh…" Lee stammered, oblivious to what just happened behind his back. "Well. This is… not really my thing."

"What isn't?" Liam leaned against the balustrade, smiling. "Bars, or men?"

The director opened his mouth, but then stopped himself, eyes searching his. Liam kept his gaze, and waited, holding the silence with a gentle smile, one that hopefully was also encouraging.

"Bars," Lee said finally, a quiet syllable almost lost to the beating of the speakers below. But here in the darkness, illuminated only by faint and reflected light, Liam was all but submerged in the Glasslit Void, and empowered by his demesne's presence, he felt clear as day the tension washing away from Lee like dust to the wind. On a face that had been scowling at his phone all night bloomed a reserved grin, and Liam felt himself, too, easing up.

"What about it?" Liam asked, wishing they could be somewhere quieter. "Too loud?"

"Yeah. Well, not exactly." Lee glanced at the stage below, shaking his head. "Things like this. Being this… celebratory. It's new. To me."

The dust in the wind grew coarse, scraping, hot. Burning. Like running to the bus stop, exhausted, the stop was empty. Only exhumes and uncaring sun.

Late.

Another round of the trivia game finished to polite applause, sounding far and muffled. The nostalgic panic surprised him, but it shouldn't. It was old and past.

Was it?

"It's scary, isn't it?" Liam said. "Like you're too old to be scared. Like you're supposed to have outgrown fear and have things figured out. Like there's a deadline."

A surprised chortle came from his left. "Ha! It's humiliating, actually. But what are you even talking about?" Liam turned to see Lee smiling. His teeth were so white, even in the dim lights. He was gesturing at Liam's chest, shirt still half-buttoned. "Was that not just a performance?"

He flicked at the glitter, but there was no use; there was no saving this shirt. "Oh there was consent manufacturing and media manipulation on that stage, yes," Liam said, eyeing mischief at Lee. "But no, I am very much gay. That much is real. I didn't figure that out until after college, and that was also late, in a way. But hey," he gestured at his glittered chest. " 'A queen is never late. Everyone else is simply early.' "

Lee laughed, a satisfying sound. Liam pressed on. "If bars aren't your thing, Mr. Malik, what is?"

Lee scowled again, though the lines looked gentler. "Hm."

"You're not allowed to say working."

Lee rolled his eyes. "Nothing as fun as this, though."

"If someone spends a lot of time doing something without coercion, it's fun for them."

"Did the Board know they have a philosopher in their midst?"

Liam chuckled. "I wouldn't dare claim such prestige, just fascinated by the human psyche. But no, Lee. What's fun for you?"

Lee looked thoughtful. "Hm. Cooking."

Liam raised a brow. "A novice, or am I in the presence of a chef?"

"Well," Lee broke eye contact, searching for his feet in the dark. "I've cooked since high school, so quite a long time."

Liam pushed himself off the balustrade, clasping his hands. "I need professional judgment of my favourite restaurant. Ever been to the Ornament?"

"Oh! Wow. No. Obviously I've heard of it, but—"

"Perfect! Will Thursday night work?"

"I don't think that…" Lee snapped his mouth shut, eyes widened in dawning realisation. "Uh. That." He cleared his throat, straightening his back. "Yes, it does, and I would love to."

"That's what I like to hear," Liam winked at him. "Now I have more talking to do, and please," he graced a finger at the back of Lee's hand, the one death gripping his phone like it insulted his family, "don't scowl at your phone too hard."

III.

One big objective for the night was to draw out the perpetrator, or perpetrators, behind the kidnappings. The bait had been cast, and for now there was nothing for Liam to do except to wait. And stay visible.

There wasn't a clear pattern of targeting on the victims the Hall of Heroes could identify, except that they were intoxicated, so Liam hoped to get their attention with a diverse audience. Enstern's needs coincided with the plan; Elizabeth identified key influential figures in Westside, to which Liam contributed from his own list built as Man in the Mirror. Invitations were sent out, and though not all of them were here, a lot was.

Miss Sparks had wrapped up the show, and the Trench was now more or less a normal bar, except much more crowded than it usually was. Liam, being representative for the sponsor, and staying visible as bait, had been circling around embedding himself in conversations. If nothing else came out of tonight, at least he could expand his reach as Man in the Mirror. A few Pantomime accounts, and some Gamma, with combined followings numbering hundreds of thousands of people. Conventionally attractive people. Political mouthpieces. Journalists. A knitter who made furry plushes of the superheroes, whose following exploded a while back when some Hall A-lister shared her own plush with a heart emoji on Pantomime.

And… Wesley?

Liam did a double take, distracted from the conversation with the knitter on whether it was problematic for the Eye of Magnus to have a fursona of an owl. He could recognise that face with that mop of shiny black hair anywhere, that permanently scowling face. Or so he remembered; Wesley was smiling and laughing. That man did not smile, not when they were together. The leather jacket and tight denim were bolder than what he remembered of the man's style choices, but that was absolutely Wesley. The man would never set foot in Westside because it was 'infested with bad people.' Why was he here? And smiling at Liam?

Liam introduced the knitter to a cosplayer, and excused himself, slowly squeezing through the crowd over to where Wesley was.

"Hey," Liam said when they were within earshot. "Didn't expect to see you here. Enjoying the night?"

Wesley was bobbing his head to the music, still smiling, still looking entirely free of antagonism towards Liam. "Yeah man," Wesley said, nodding at somewhere off the side. "Cool place, thought I should check it out, didn't know you'd be here either. Nice seeing you again! Lots of girls here!"

What? And what? "Girls? What do you mean?"

Wesley smirked at someone to the side. He turned to look; at the other end of the dance floor, a lady in a tight, form-fitting black dress smiled back at Wesley. "Yeah," Wesley said, grinning unabashedly. "Was talking to Adrianna over there. Think I'm scoring her tonight."

Okay, maybe the man was on a journey of self-discovery and turned out to be bisexual. But the two of them left things on quite terrible terms. For him to just act like nothing happened was bizarre, at the very least. Wesley was uptight, would not smile, would not even walk with Liam in public, but now just casually bobbing to music in a club and boldly flirting with women? Did he not remember?

"Good catch!" Liam said. "How you doing, man? We haven't talked in forever."

Wesley laughed. "Mate, you're so clingy! We were just at graduation! You're a grown man now, make more friends!"

Ice lanced through his heart, but Liam kept bobbing to the music. Bad terms or not, Wesley wouldn't just straight up deny everything like this. If he did, he would have avoided eye contact with Liam in the first place.

And graduation was a decade ago.

Liam said, "Ah, time flies, you know? Do you even remember when we last talked?"

"I dunno," Wesley scrunched his brows together. "Maybe like, two months ago?"

They first kissed at graduation. And they last spoke seven years ago.

Something was very, very wrong.

"Yeah, forever ago," Liam said. He nodded at the drink in Wesley's hand. "Want another?"

"Sure! I'm just getting started!"

IV.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Wesley tried to wiggle out of Liam's grip, but he was not letting go. "What the hell, man!"

Liam kicked the backdoor to the Trench closed behind him. It was past midnight, and people were either home or inside. He spun Wesley in front of him, all but digging his fingers into the man's shoulders. "Tell me how we ended."

"Liam, stop!" Wesley yelled. Liam let loose of his fingers and pulled back. "Fuck. I'm sorry," Liam said as Wesley rubbed his shoulders. "But this is important. It is really important. Wesley, how did we end?"

"'We'? End?" Wesley said, his mouth looked like it bit something that insulted his palette. Liam did not expect that from Wesley, despite the little they had. Wesley said, "Man, didn't know you can be this dramatic. We graduated, and we got jobs. It's just been like two months, what are you even on about?"

"Wesley, no." Liam said, slow and deliberate. "We did not graduate two months ago. We graduated ten years ago."

The man laughed, though with reservation. "Man, very funny. Are you on drugs or something?"

"And I didn't know you were bisexual."

"Yo what the fuck?" Wesley dropped his hands from his shoulders. "I am not! What are you even on about?"

"You were talking about scoring that girl?"

"Because I am into girls, obviously?"

Liam grabbed him by the shoulders again, his ears deafened by the drum of pumping blood. "Wesley. What were we?"

Wesley pushed him. Liam stumbled back, surprised; Wesley was strong. Very strong. And his face was turning ugly. "I do not like what you are implying, Liam. We are friends."

"We were!" Liam yelled. "But we were also more than that! Are you fucking with me, Wesley? We dated! We… we were in love. It did not end well, but it did happen! Did you go back to your parents? God, what did they do to—"

A punch cracked his face, and Liam flew off the ground and landed on his back. He was still reeling when a heavy weight landed on him, and a strong, very strong and hard palm slamming his chest back onto the asphalt with a crunch.

On top of him was Wesley, but his face was in fragments. Halogen streetlight outlined his black hair, but Liam couldn't see his features. Maybe he was dizzy from the impact, maybe there was wind he couldn't feel, but Wesley's hair was flowing like it was alive. His face was broken, a mess of mirror shards daggering one another, overlapping into a staggered portrait that resembled its subject, just not quite.

And the eyes. No light reflected from them, pits darker than a starless night, wet and living black sinking into a pair of open, hungry mouths. This was no simple darkness of the night, no comfortable presence of the Glasslit Void. This was something else.

Liam tried to push back, to will the darkness against Wesley, but it was as alien as it seemed, unresponsive to his call. He felt like being in a straitjacket, tight and suffocating, and staring powerless into those alien voids Liam felt like he had been sent back decades in time. Small and weak. Useless. Terrified.

A fist hammered Liam's head one side to the other. He wanted to throw up.

"I am a devout child of God," Wesley grumbled. That was his voice, but was it? Liam was struggling to hear with his ringing ear. "I am a good, God-fearing heterosexual." Another fist stabbed into his chest, and his lungs felt like it was collapsing. "Never in my life have I touched another man. How dare you as a friend imply that I have?!"

By now Wesley was screaming at him. He couldn't tell anymore, but there was a wide, yawning stretch of open jaws in front of his face, and Liam was shamefully helpless.

"Get off of him!"

The impossible weight on him shifted, struggled, and then suddenly lifted. Liam sprung up onto his feet, only to see Lee tackle Wesley onto the ground.

Liam swore he heard cracked glass.

One second, Lee slammed Wesley on the ground. The next, Wesley was somehow already standing a dozen paces away from them, panting like an animal. His face was still marred, though not in fragments of glass shards, but with burning rage, a shaking finger pointing at him. "We were FRIENDS, Liam! How dare you accuse me of something that abhorrent??"

"What the fuck do you think I am?" He yelled back.

Wesley's mouth dropped. He looked shocked, his mouth crumpling into pure, simple disgust. All those years ago, it was the exact face Wesley used to cry into Liam's chest afraid of, the face that he would cop from others if he ever got 'caught'. Now he wore the fear he ran from as his own, like not one drop of those tears ever fell.

The victims forgot.

"Fucking fag," Wesley spat on the ground, and stomped off.

"Hey! Hey!" Lee called out. "You stop right there! What did you just say? Hey!"

"Lee, it's alright." Liam said, his mind in overdrive. The victims forgot. Wesley didn't even seem to notice the Trench was a queer bar.

"It's not! Hey!" Lee started running after Wesley. Oh wow. Liam grabbed his elbows. "Hey hey hey, no don't do that. He's left. It's alright."

"Liam! It is not!" Lee said, voice raised. "Oh my god, your face, Liam," he put a hand on Liam's cheek. It stung. "Ow."

"We need to get you to the hospital asap. And call the cops. This is a hate crime. Let me just—" Lee fumbled for his pockets.

"Lee, Lee. Lee." Liam grabbed his face into his hands, and Lee stilled.

In the cold night, they stood close. Liam could feel the warmth radiating from the strong and brave man who just charged into a vicious beating and saved his life, like ambrosia seeping into mummified veins. It was tempting, it was demanding, it was so easy to just take Lee right there. Liam wanted to. He wanted to, so much.

But what he wanted more… was for them to last, if just a bit longer. He was not ready for the dance to end.

"Tonight has been a success for Enstern," Liam said, breaking the silent spell. "Our narrative works. If I end up in another controversy, it will be too much for our connections to contain. Lee, this will not make the news. Do you understand?"

Lee opened his mouth, but Liam slid a thumb over, sealing them back in place. His hand trembled with desire, to spread the warm wetness, to invade, to mark and claim. But it stayed put, and he continued. "Wesley is someone I used to care for. I don't know why he behaved the way he did, and I will find out why. But it is something personal, and I ask that you will respect that."

Lee opened his mouth again, and Liam kept his finger firm, but he smiled. "I promise I will report this hate crime to the authorities, but it will be on my terms. And I will take tomorrow off to take care of these bruises. Even do an X-Ray for any head injuries."

Lee tried to open his mouth, yet again. Liam kept his thumb in place, and started grinning; though he had to stop when he felt shifting, grating bone shards. "Have I addressed all your concerns, director?"

He did not move his finger. Lee nodded. In his hands, as he asked.

Liam leaned in, past the maddening lips, to his ears. "And," he whispered. "Thank you for my life, saviour. It is a feat most impressive. For Thursday, I insist dinner on me. It's only courtesy."

The faint sweat from Lee's hair was a rare, intimate fragrance, one that drove him dizzy with need. But Liam withdrew. Hands in his pockets, two steps back, he gazed directly into Lee's eyes, smiling wide and without reservation, even when it hurt.

Lee blinked once, twice. He opened his mouth once, twice. And said finally, "it's a thrill to witness the right hand at work."

His heart skipped, but Liam bowed. "And Glacial does not take no for an answer, Mr. Malik. I'll see you Thursday. Please, have a good night, and thank you again." He winked, and walked away.

This would be a long dance. And he would make it last.

V.

Liam pressed the ice pack harder into his cheek and let the pain consume him. The case files from Jamie spread all over his countertop.

The victims didn't just forget the attack. Now he knew they also forgot a piece of themselves.

The last file of the stack, the last victim taken three weeks ago at Marion Square, read Wesley Flament.

[florafey]

Malogranatum - 5

Falling Swift As Rain

Persephone gripped Nike’s hand tighter and tilted her head back to face the glittering sky, swaying gently to the music. She was not drunk but she was closest to it she had ever been. Nike, however, was certainly drunk after four hours of partying like it was her last night alive. Persephone had started to realize that all the deities partied like Nike- like they were running out of time. To her, it was a beautiful thing. Well, beautiful might not be an appropriate word, considering Dionysus had been serenading her and Nike for the past song or two as he stood on a statue base. Naked.

Persephone had been burning with embarrassment ever since Dio had started paying attention to her without his robes on but she couldn’t help admitting it was rather funny. And the attention wasn’t bad, she just wished Dio would put his clothes on. Nike was still laughing herself hoarse and beckoning Dio down, but Dio liked where he was. 

“Apollo, please, go tell him to get down before he kills Honey with embarrassment.” Nike managed to pull herself together long enough to grab ahold of Apollo as he was passing them. The god’s hands were full of food and drink he was taking to Athena and Aphrodite. He smirked at the two goddesses. 

“No can do, darlings. Get him down yourself.” He winked and disappeared. Persephone giggled and said, “Forget him, Nike. Where has Helios gone? I wanted to say hello.”

They had been at the party for close to four hours but Persephone still had not seen Helios. Nike had come once night had fallen to help Persephone sneak from her mother’s house and up to Zeus and Hera’s estate where the party was taking place, and Persephone was glad for her friend’s help. Between her racing heart and fear for waking her mother, Persephone probably would have been too nervous to actually sneak out if it weren’t for Nike’s cunning smile and soft steps showing her the way. 

Persephone was thankful she had come. The pale blue silk dress she wore was wet and grass stained, much like her pink one after her first party on Olympus, but she couldn’t have cared less. The wine was delicious, the food sublime, and the company of her friends irreplaceable. The goddesses had squealed and raced to her when she entered with Nike. Kisses and hugs were exchanged, Apollo and Dionysus being rather overeager with their kisses until Nike smacked them on the heads and Persephone fell away blushing. 

But for all the company she currently had, she still felt as though something was missing. Someone, more like. And he was. Persephone didn’t want to admit it because the night was everything she hadn’t dared to ask for, but she was slightly disappointed that Hades was not here. That wasn’t to say he wouldn’t eventually come. Parties such as these often lasted days but Persephone did not have that kind of time. 

A warm hand slid around her neck, draping across her shoulders. “Who is it you’re searching for, sugar?”

It was Hermes. He had been just as surprised as the rest of them to see Persephone in attendance, and he had laughed in pride when Persephone told him she had snuck out of her mother’s house. 

“Nobody. I’m just looking. Have you seen Helios?” Her answers were too quick. Hermes raised a brow but didn’t press the question. 

“He arrived about half an hour ago. The last I saw him, he was wrestling Ares. Poseidon was taking bets. Care to place?”

Persephone laughed. “No, I’ll settle for watching, thank you. Walk with me?” 

The three of them set off, Nike swaying slightly with drink. Dionysus was still singing atop his perch but his voice wasn’t bad and Persephone blew him a kiss as she passed. Dio fanned himself and pretended to faint. 

Helios and Ares were on a stretch of lawn by the pool. They were naked as well, but they had better reason to be than Dionysus. They were grappling with each other, muscles straining and sweat gleaming in the torchlight. Persephone’s eyes grew wide as she watched them. Nike had also gone still, eyes fixed on the gods. Hermes looked from the goddesses to the gods and back again. 

“You’ve never looked at me like that,” he complained. 

“You’ve never looked like that,” Nike nodded at Helios, who had just pinned Ares and was struggling to hold him down. Persephone hummed in agreement. Hermes scoffed and didn’t respond. 

Poseidon indeed was taking bets as the match was occurring, calling out moves and who was currency favored. It resembled what Persephone had heard of an Olympic wrestling match, but both participants were more than a little tipsy and it was taking place in a yard. Women were also forbidden to watch Olympic games as all the men competed naked, but it was clear that the goddesses were the target audience for this particular match. They sat in groups and pairs around the makeshift ring, giggling and shouting encouragement. Persephone smiled, then gasped and began to cheer Helios on when Ares slipped out of his hold. 

Hermes was still peeved at the attention they were paying to wrestling match so he left them to their devices and disappeared towards the pool. Nike tugged Persephone over to where Athena and Aphrodite were seated in the grass sharing a plate of food.

“What do you think of the entertainment, Persephone?” Athena winked. Persephone blushed furiously and stuck her tongue out at her friend. 

The goddesses sat through the first match and then the second when Apollo stepped in and wanted a turn against Ares. After winning both fights in a row, Ares was bold enough to challenge Janus, and the two-faced god accepted. Helios had found the girls after pulling his clothes back on, and Ares and Janus’ fight was so violent that Athena spent half of it with her face pressed against Helios’ arm. Persephone cried out with Nike when Janus’ fist crashed into Ares’ mouth and blood went spraying across both gods. 

“Are they insane?” Persephone whispered to Helios. 

“A little,” was the reply. “They’ve never gotten along so I assume this fight was a long time coming. Just be glad it isn’t Nike and Nemesis in that ring.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Helios,” Nike chastised. “That whoring bitch couldn’t draw my blood if you offered her half of Zeus’ estate. In fact, I’d give you half of Zeus’ estate if you could get her legs closed long enough to stand her upright.”

“She’s standing right over there, my dear,” Helios nodded to a spot across the lawn. “It seems you owe someone else half of Zeus’ estate. Shame. There’s so much I could have done with the place, too.” 

Nike’s platinum hair glittered as she turned to glare at Nemesis. The goddess of revenge was indeed standing across the lawn, her sleek black hair cut into a severe bob and dark lines of kohl winging out from the corners of her eyes in sharp points. Even at a distance Persephone could practically taste the tension in Nemesis’ eyes. Persephone’s gaze slid to see who Nemesis was conferring with and almost flinched when sparks flew down her spine. Hades’ arms were bare tonight much like the other gods, and Persephone ate up the sight of his swirling black tattoos curving over muscle. Nemesis was clearly appreciating the sight as well. She kept dragging her eyes over Hades and clearly expected him to take the hint but the god of the Underworld settled himself against a curved patio pillar and drank deeply from his wine. In his hair glittered a single silver ring holding back the longest parts in a neat clasp. His profile was backlit by the soft light of the lanterns and Persephone took in his features as though she was trying to memorize them. He was beautiful. Frightening, perhaps, but beautiful nonetheless. And how frightening could someone really be if they took time to name their hound? 

From besides her, Nike whistled low. “Look at him,” she said appreciatively. “I wonder what brought brother eldest out tonight.” She was looking at Hades as well. Athena and Aphrodite twisted to see. 

“Perhaps Nemesis did,” Aphrodite said. “Although I can’t imagine- oh, nevermind.”

Hades had just pushed off the pillar and strode away, leaving Nemesis in mid-sentence. Her jaw twisted in irritation but she made no move to go after him.

“Oh, Hades. Always the diplomat,” Athena sighed. “It’s a shame, really. I’ve had a few conversations with him and he’s really very kind.”

“Kind? Did I just hear you describe Hades as kind?” It was Hermes, back from wherever he had gone to sulk. Persephone scooted over so he could plop down in between her and Nike. “My dear Athena, the amount of times Hades has almost sicced his hound on me should be enough to tell you that kindness is not one of his virtues.”

“Were you in his domain?” Athena asked.

“Well, yes, but-”

“Were you pestering him?” 

“Yes, but-

“Were you making demands to him on behalf of Zeus?”

Hermes was silent. Persephone laughed and had to duck Hermes’ swat in her direction.

“I’ve always found him to be one of the more sensible gods,” Helios added. “It gets exhausting watching them all run around desperately trying to right their wrongs and avoid the consequences of their own actions.”

“And Hades doesn’t?” Nike wanted to know.

“Hades doesn’t fuck other gods’ wives. That makes him more sensible than nearly everyone at this party.”

“Speaking of sensibility,” Hermes rose to his feet and plucked a grape out of Athena’s hand, “I must go speak to the god himself. Since dear Athena reminded me so kindly of my duties.”

“You cannot be serious,” Helios said. “Zeus does not have you working tonight. How can he? If it's business he wants to discuss with his brother, he can do it his damn self- he’s across the lawn from him.”

Nike whistled low. “Let me know when you decide to tell Zeus that. I want a front row seat to that shitshow.”

“As much as I appreciate the defense in my honor, dear Helios, I’m afraid I’m in no position to protest against my God King. So I shall embark on this odyssey of violence and treachery only to barely make it out alive thanks to the fact that a certain demon hound is absent.”

Hermes turned to leave. Aphrodite rolled her eyes and asked, “How much have you had to drink?”

“How much of what?” Was the answer. Aphrodite grimaced. “This isn’t going to go well.”

“What can Hermes possibly need with Hades right now?” Persephone asked as they watched Hermes pick his way across the grass. 

“I can’t imagine. But then again, Zeus has his own ways of dealing with business. I feel bad for Hermes. I’m inclined to think he and Hades would otherwise get along if it weren’t for Zeus forcing him to deal with Hades on his behalf.”

“But I’ve seen Zeus and Hades speak before. Surely there can’t be that much bad blood?”

“Oh, I don’t believe it’s bad blood, per se. It’s more like,” Aphrodite paused and looked at Helios for help. Helios tilted his head, considering, and said, “It’s more like Zeus tries to treat Hades’ domain as his own, and Hades doesn’t allow him to. Zeus doesn’t do very well if he’s told he can’t do something, but there isn’t technically anything he can do to make his brother submit to his wishes.”

“I see,” Persephone said. “And...you know all this...how?”

Helios winked. “I’m the god of the sun, my dear girl. I ride a chariot across the sky every morning and night, and I see everything the sun sees.”

“Does the sun shine in the Underworld?” Nike asked. 

Persephone caught herself before the answer slipped out, remembering just in time that she wasn’t supposed to know anything about the Underworld or its master. 

“It does, faintly. There was a long time where I wasn’t allowed to bring the sun to the Underworld but quite a long while ago Hades had a change of heart. I suppose everyone needs her now and again. She is a wonderful companion.”

Persephone wondered at Helios’ words as the conversation drifted elsewhere. They tried to keep track of Hermes but the god was quickly swallowed up among other revelers and distractions. They also looked up after nearly half an hour to find that Hades was not standing where he had been the last time they saw him. With no way to find their friend or the subject of his foolish mission, they decided to wait a while longer before starting a search. 

Another half hour drifted by before the food was gone. Aphrodite pouted to Helios that she was still hungry and became affronted when he suggested she get more herself. Persephone desired to stretch her legs and thus was more than happy to offer to fetch Aphrodite some food. A small rebellious piece of Persephone’s mind knew, however, that she was simply bored and wanted to risk running into some excitement. 

As she wound her way closer to the palace doors, Persephone found that she was extremely comfortable in the presence of the other deities. If this had been her first night on Olympus, she wouldn’t have dared leave Athena or Aphrodite, and she certainly wouldn’t have been wandering off looking for Hades. But here she was. 

She was only halfway to the palace when she spotted Hermes. He was indeed with Hades and, not at all to Persephone’s surprise, the conversation did not seem to be going well. Hades was frowning down at Hermes as he chattered away, gesturing with his hands about something clearly important. Hades appeared thoroughly unimpressed. Persephone watched as the god of the Underworld straddled the line between irritation and anger, and wondered if she had time to turn back and get Helios before things went truly south. But when Hades snapped something vicious at Hermes, his dark eyes flashing with violence, she decided there was no time. 

She backtracked from her path towards the palace, edging closer to her friend and cursing him the entire way. Her heart pounded painfully against her ribcage; Hades looked so angry, was it wise to interrupt them? But Persephone did not feel good leaving Hermes on his own, despite how he got himself into the situation just fine, so she continued on and told her foolish heart to be still. 

Her foolish heart was still fluttering when she approached the pair. Hades noticed her first over Hermes’ shoulder. His expression cleared ever so slightly but the anger didn’t fade, especially as Hermes said, “This isn’t coming from me, Hades, it’s coming from Zeus.”

Hades turned his attention back to the unfortunate Hermes and growled, “Then tell my brother to speak to me himself. I will not have his messenger scurrying back and forth between us like a frightened dog. If Zeus finds it beyond himself to look me in my eye, he must not need his business done.”

Persephone closed in on Hermes before he could reply, and she called out to him to prevent him from saying something foolish. He turned, his face lighting up when he saw her. He was still inebriated and it was clear Hades knew this as well. 

“Persephone! What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. What are you doing...here?” She tactfully smiled at Hades, whose eyes hadn’t left her form and was currently drinking deeply from his goblet of wine. “You said you would only be gone a moment.”

“I did?”

“Yes. An hour ago.” She gave him a meaningful look, hoping to convey to him how important it was for him to get out of range from Hades, without making it obvious to Hades what she was doing. She didn’t think she was succeeding. 

“I’m finishing up some business with Hades, I’ll- have you met him? Let me introduce you!” 

Before she could say anything, Hermes was giving Persephone’s hand to Hades and making formal introductions. Any sign of anger was now gone from Hades’ expression, much to Persephone’s relief. His hand was warm as his fingers closed over her own. He brought her hand up to brush his lips against her knuckles, bowing respectfully to her. Persephone could barely keep her balance as she dipped into a shallow curtsey. A flood of heat tingled down her limbs when she felt how soft Hades’ lips were against her hand. When he finally released her, the tips of her fingers were trembling and a visible blush had bloomed across her cheeks and nose. 

“It’s an honor to meet you, my lord,” Persephone managed. “I apologize if my friend has been inconveniencing you.”

“Do not assume yourself deserving of my anger, my lady. It is not who I wish to strangle.”

Hermes choked on his wine behind Persephone. She barely hid her smile as she said, “I understand Hermes has worn out his welcome.”

“Only slightly.” 

Hermes made a sound of protest. “Why do I feel like I’m being turned against? Persephone, you were supposed to swoop in and rescue me with your beautiful dress and shining hair, not blush at my foe.”

Persephone’s blush only worsened at Hermes’ drunk words, and she was even more appalled when Hades chuckled into his wine. She glared at her friend.

“I have half a mind to leave you here to get the beating you had coming to you.”

“I do have business to finish, thank you for reminding me. Hades-”

“No.” The irritation was back. 

“You haven’t-”

“No.”

Hermes sighed and regarded Hades like he was a stubborn child refusing to eat dinner. But Hades was not a child, he was one of the oldest and most powerful gods alive, and he was currently looking back at Hermes like he wanted nothing more than to drown him in the nearby pool. 

“This is a party, Hermes, surely anything you need to discuss can wait until later?”

“Listen to your pretty friend, Hermes. She has an endearing voice, does she not?”

Persephone needed to get away from Hades if she wanted to prevent swooning. She dared a glance over her shoulder at him and was met with his dark gaze. 

“I’m trying to help,” she whispered to him.

“You’re doing marvelous. Carry on.”

Hermes leaned around Persephone and said, “Hades, if you’d only consider-”

Hades rolled his eyes, clearly ready for Hermes to be gone. “I’ll give you my consideration if you give me a single thing.”

“Which is?”

Hades held out his hand, palm up. Hermes looked at it for a while before glancing down at his own hand holding Persephone’s. Slowly, hesitantly, Hermes placed Persephone’s hand in Hades waiting palm. Hades took it and said, “I’ll consider. Next time I hear this discussion will be from my brother himself or no one at all. Is that understood?”

Hermes nodded. “Perfectly, my lord.” He turned his attention to Persephone and asked, “Will you be alright, my love?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m not Zeus’ messenger.”

Hermes feigned injury at her words but winked at her before he turned and left the two alone. Persephone became suddenly very aware of her hand enclosed within Hades’. He dropped it, however, to pass his cup of wine into her hand. He deftly picked another goblet up off the tray of a passing nymph who smiled flirtatiously on her way past. 

“I’m sorry about Hermes-”

“I told you not to apologize for him. He makes his own decisions.” The scolding was light and lacked edge. Persephone swirled her wine in an attempt to settle her nerves. 

“That was a skillful rescue, I must compliment you,” Hades said. Persephone frowned lightly. “What do you mean?”

“You hadn’t been looking for him.”

“I...he...had been gone for too long and we knew he wished to discuss business with you and so I came looking.”

Hades smiled slowly, like a cat. “No,” he whispered. “You didn’t.”

Persephone felt trapped but she didn’t want to back down. “I beg you to explain yourself, my lord. I fear you have confused me.”

“You would have me believe you left your friends to seek out Hermes alone.”

“Yes. I found him with you, not to any surprise. He did tell us he needed to speak with you.”

“You were going into the palace, not to Hermes.”

Persephone fell silent. How..? He had been watching her. That was the only answer. He had seen her leave Athena and Aphrodite; it had been clear she wasn’t searching for Hermes because she hadn’t been.

She recovered the best she could, but there was very little to save. She fixed Hades with a gentle glare. “Are you accusing me of something, my lord?”

“Only being more interesting than I initially gave you credit for.” “What does that mean?”

“Must you have everything explained?”

“Must you insist on talking in ambiguous circles?”

“Only as much as you continue to look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Persephone breathed. The words were out of her mouth before she realized she had asked for an explanation yet again. But her heart was beating in her throat now, and she didn’t know how she had managed to remain upright thus far. She didn’t know where her boldness was coming from, how she was able to exchange banter with Hades and not stutter an apology for intruding upon his night, as her mother would have surely insisted she do if Demeter had been present. 

Hades tilted his head down, a few precious inches closer to Persephone. His gaze was as smooth as silk, at least for the time being. 

“Like you came here for something.”

Persephone’s instinct was to deny his statement, but she found herself guilty as charged. She had stood up with the intention of finding Hades, had she not? She had left her friends with the desire to run into trouble, had she not? But she couldn’t very well tell Hades that. And it seemed like he already knew, anyways. She twisted on the spot, not knowing how to respond appropriately. But Hades didn’t press her. He leaned away, taking with him the faint scent of cold air and night sky, and took a sip of his wine. 

“I’m surprised to see you without dear Demeter.”

Persephone smiled wryly. “You aren’t the first to tell me that tonight.”

“May I ask?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Do I look like I can’t?”

Persephone’s smile widened with genuinity. “Can you ever answer a question?”

He graced her with a rare smile, the likes of which she had received once before, many nights ago as she teased him from a distance. “Yes, goddess, I can keep a secret.”

“She doesn’t know I’m here. I came by myself because I wanted to come and enjoy the party without her hovering over my shoulder. So here I am.”

Hades looked mildly impressed. “A novel feat, I’m sure.”

“Yes. It is. I’m not sure why it took me so long.”

“I can think of a few reasons.”

Persephone blinked in surprise. “You can?”

Hades looked at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Love is always binding, even if it's poisoned.” 

Persephone was rendered speechless yet again. “Oh,” she whispered. “Yes, I...I suppose it is.”

After a stretch of pensive silence, Hades chuckled deeply. “How Demeter would rage if she found you here.”

It made Persephone smile a little. “Perhaps she would act rationally. I have been to Olymuos before, after all.”

“I meant here within an arm’s reach of me. But yes, perhaps.”

Persephone looked inquisitively up at the god of the Underworld and couldn’t help but ask, “Does my mother not like you?”

The question didn’t seem to offend. Hades’ mouth twitched at the corners, and that was response enough, but he said, “Demeter and I fail to see eye to eye on many things. She’s a headstrong goddess, for better or for worse.”

It was the politest way of insulting someone’s mother that Persephone had ever heard. She was becoming impressed by Hades’ inexhaustible couth. She took another sip of wine, savoring the warmth as it slipped down her throat. “For better or for worse.”

“May I ask?” 

“I suppose you can, my lord.”

“Hades.”

Persephone paused. “I’m sorry?”

A smile. “My name, precious. I prefer people use it.”

Persephone had only just recovered from Hades’ taunts about her motivation in interrupting him and Hermes, and now between the pet name and the permission to use his name, Persephone was right back to square one. Pounding heart and sweaty palms. 

“Right. As you wish, Hades. Ask away.” 

“Do you enjoy living in the mortal realm?”

“Oh, yes, I do. It’s beautiful and my mother takes very good care of what’s in her control; the mortals love her.”

“It sounds innocent.”

Before she could think about what she was saying, Persephone said, “What do you know of innocence?”

She savored the brief look of surprise that crossed Hades’ face, but it was almost instantly chased away by amusement and the spark of an accepted challenge.

“Little indeed, flower. Tread softly over this ice.” His voice had changed. It was softer now, lined with something smooth that Persephone couldn’t quite place. But she was having trouble focusing much on anything except the god in front of her. 

Persephone twirled innocently on the spot. “As you wish, my lord.”

His fingers were warm when they took ahold of her chin. He tilted her face up in a firm yet gentle grasp to make her look him in the eye.

“Try that again,” he said softly.

“Try what again?” She liked the way his hand fit around her jaw and didn’t want him to let go. 

“Don’t play dumb, Persephone.”

It was the sound of her name that pushed her to compliance. Coming from him, it was the sweetest thing she had ever heard. She smiled shyly.

“As you wish, Hades.”

He had gotten what he wanted, but he was slow to let go of her. He tapped his thumb against her cheek before finally dropping his hand.

“Forgive my manners. I forgot to thank you for the daisy.”

It was surprising enough to startle a laugh out of Persephone. She was glad Cerberus had known to whom to go after her visit with him.

“You’re very welcome. Will you tell Cerberus hello for me?”

“I will. But you can always tell him yourself.”

Persephone laughed and felt the warmth of a blush spreading across her cheeks yet again. If she had known she was going to have this much enjoyment away from her mother, she would have dared to sneak away years ago.

[amphtaminedreams]

The Women of Euphoria and Personal Style: Lookbook no.8

Hi to anyone reading,

I hope you’re well considering everything going on! It feels weird to want to talk about fashion or TV shows or red carpets or whatever when 90% of my Google searches are COVID-19 related but there you go. It’s all about trying to power through as normal (minus the social interaction) and pretend the world isn’t ending, right? Queue nervous laughter.

And as if things aren't shitty enough, production of season 2 of Euphoria has been postponed until further notice. 

Okay, in the grand scheme of things, having to wait a bit longer for a TV show isn’t catastrophic but it does just about sum up the transition from 2019 to 2020 thus far that after HBO redeemed itself by broadcasting Euphoria in the summer following an ending to Game of Thrones that has made the whole series unrewatchable, the glimmer of hope in me reignited by the prospect of series 2 this year has been quickly dashed. 2021, I’m rooting for you, because it doesn’t seem like things are getting better any time soon, and in all seriousness, I think everyone needs a break from the collective suffering of the last few months.

For me (and undoubtedly for many others if the hundreds of makeup looks and styling videos are anything to go by), Euphoria’s effect on the world of fashion and beauty is unprecedented. I really can’t recall a TV show in living memory that has had as much of an impact on the way young people dress. I mean, this might partially be because the style of the characters already kind of caters to and draws from the target audience but also, aside from Blair Waldorf did anybody really give THAT much of a fuck about what anybody in Gossip Girl wore?

The draw of the styling on Euphoria is that it has something for everyone. The style of each of the main girls, Rue, Kat, Maddy, Jules and Cassie, all of whom I’ve attempted (emphasis on attempted!) to base (emphasis on base!) outfits around, is varied and distinctive but still so current and realistic at the same time. It’s also consistent; even if you don’t own the specific pieces worn by any of them, similar shapes and details reoccur enough in different looks throughout the series that it’s not hard to create an outfit which matches your favourite character’s overall vibe without buying anything new. That’s kinda what I have attempted to do here and without further ado, I’m gonna get on with it! First up:

Jules (Played by Hunter Schafer)

When it comes to whose style is the most experimental, Jules is the obvious answer. A lot of her outfits are what I imagine a cartoonist in the near-distant future will envision their cool girl protagonist wearing. Whilst her ensembles are generally whimsical and girly for the most part, there’s usually a few slightly punk-ish finishing touches thrown in there too be it through chunky shoes or bold makeup or that incredible mesh trench coat she wears in the series finale with the trans symbol on the back which, honestly, deserves a moment of silence. 

There are definitely nods to current fashion trends sprinkled throughout her wardrobe too. I'm not going to lie, despite someone at work seemingly thinking it was an insult to tell me I look like someone who does (I still don’t know but this person has a Rick and Morty keyring so I don’t give it too much weight), I’ve never watched any anime. BUT, that being said, given the abundance of anime screenshots posted by all these aesthetic oriented Instagram and Tumblr moodboard accounts, I have a vague idea of what some of the more iconic characters look like and a lot of Jules’ looks seem to be very much modelled after or at least inspired by them. In a way, I see a lot of her looks as a blend between modern “e-girl”, Y2K skater chick (yes, I’m thinking early Avril Lavigne), and 2013 Tumblr “hipster” a la 2014 Joanna Kutcha and Charlie Barker, and though on paper that sounds like a nightmare combination, it works. I know-if that sentence were a Depop description I would’ve just gained 30 followers.

When it comes to my own interpretation of Jules’ style, it’s definitely something I like to channel when I’m putting together a proper OUTFIT outfit. Meaning an outfit I actually put effort into and thus will most likely want to get a good photo in, lol. The way her character dresses is almost quite Christopher Kane in that it’s fresh and unusual but still understated enough that I wouldn’t walk into a room wearing any of these feeling like I’m doing a Rick Owens runway.

I’m not TOO far out of my comfort zone but still at the same time, I’d be trying something new and maybe a little bit more zany than I'm used to. As for noting where any of these pieces are from, only a few have been bought in the last 6 months, but from left to right clockwise I have marked out those that have in case they’re still available (though be wary of the fact that it seems a lot of online clothes stores are still forcing warehouse employees to work in close confines at the moment and so perhaps aren’t operating the most ethically):

LOOK 1

Corset-Jaded London

Shoes-TK Maxx

LOOK 2

Dress-Motel Rocks

Boots-Koi Vegan Footwear

LOOK 3

Dress-Jaded London

LOOK 4

Dress-Jaded London

Beret-Ebay

LOOK 5

Beret-Ebay

LOOK 6

Mesh Top-Depop

Hair Clips-Urban Outfitters

Kat (Played by Barbie Ferreira) 

Eurgh, Kat. 

I LOVE THIS BITCH.

If I had to choose my favourite character in the show, it would be a very close toss-up between her and Rue, and though I think Rue might just about nab the top spot for her relatability factor, Kat is the girl I want to be or wish that I had been when I was at school. I mean, there’s definitely an argument to be made in that a lot of what she’s doing with her cam work could be seen as a means of validation (Sam Levinson has basically said everyone on the show has some kind of an unhealthy coping mechanism and I would guess due to the circumstances in which her cam girl career was borne and the fact she’s underage, this would be hers) but I do think in other ways we really see Kat reclaim her power and recognise herself for the smart, capable, gorgeous woman that she is. Honestly, the definition of divine feminine energy, and I would completely let Barbie Ferreira/basically Kat if she was also actually 23 dominate me.

Plus! Her! Style! Is! The! Bomb! Definitely the easiest character to base looks around because if I’m totally honest Kat’s energy is pretty much just what I want to emulate in every day life. 

It’s either pieces that are typically feminine, cutesy, and even slightly preppy at times drenched in everything grunge OR vice versa where you have something semi-gothic and then add a colourful, more playful touch in there that harks back to the beginning of the series before Kat had began to explore her identity and sexuality and dressed slightly more Forever 21.

I’d say, not yet with my whole chest, that on a good day the outfits I put together when making an effort aren’t too far off something Kat would wear, minus the more overtly BDSM touches; if wearing a ring choker in London is enough to get me a creepy comment from a gross middle aged shopkeeper (because I apparently forfeited my right not to be perved on when I decided to buy a bottle of Oasis summer fruits), then you can only imagine the kind of looks wearing a full-on harness would get in my conservative OAP dominated hometown. Not the most doable right now, especially considering the only time I get out is to work and to go for a run. The chafing I could deal with but the horrified glares of pensioners whose M&S prawn mayo sandwiches I’ve ruined by simply being in their eyesight not so much.

LOOK 1-

Corset-Urban Outfitters

LOOK 2-

Bodysuit-Depop

Skirt-Zara

Harness-Ebay

LOOK 3-

Co-ord-Depop

Lace-up Corset-Missguided

LOOK 4-

Dress-Vintage

LOOK 5-

Belt-Ebay

LOOK 6-

Coat-Topshop

Dress-Jaded London

LOOK 7-

Fishnet Top-Ebay

Skirt-Urban Outfitters

Maddy (Played by Alexa Demie)

Not gonna lie, I was kind of scared to do Maddy. I’m scared to be posting this, lol! Alexa Demie has played this character for a single season and she’s already one of the most iconic women to grace our screens in years. This is a huge undertaking and I don’t have the bank balance or the body confidence (lmao) to raid IAmGia. 

And this is where I want to stress: THESE ARE NOT OUTFIT RECREATIONS. THESE ARE INSPIRED BY. I HAVE ADDED ELEMENTS OF MY OWN STYLE INTO THEM. PLEASE DON’T DRAG ME. I KNOW, I’M NOT ALEXA DEMIE. I WOULD NEVER ASSUME TO BE ALEXA DEMIE. I’M NOT ABOUT TO TAKE THE LORD’S NAME IN VAIN LIKE THAT. So now we’ve got that out the way (wipes bead of sweat off forehead), let’s continue. 

Everything about Maddy Perez is extra. She has very much been established as a centre of attention character, and her outfits are a key part of that. They’re daring, they’re hyper-feminine, and they are always glamorous. We’re told that she competed in beauty pageants when she was younger and it’s clear that level of excess and coordination and glitz and all-round-boujeeness wormed its way into her DNA during that time. Even the “depression” outfit she wears to school following Nate becoming violent at the fair is costume-like, a 2019 Bratz doll Off-White street style collaboration.

Do you know how HARD I had to try to be HOT!? For these photos. Alexa Demie is one of those blessed women who doesn’t have to try at all, and that translates into the character completely. At any given moment, Maddy could add or remove one item or clothing and be let straight into the VIP section of a club, and that, honestly, is inspiring to us all in these dark times. 

One thing I tried to keep in mind is that she always looks polished and coordinated, I.E the kind of look I would prepare for a night out is something Maddy would wear on an average day. Co-ords and delicate prints seem to be more subtle wardrobe staples along with mesh and PVC and glitter and feathers and fur and basically anything that toes the line between expensive looking and tacky. Yes, I am aware we may toe different sides of that line but please let me stay delusional and believe that’s not the case for 5 minutes. Much appreciated xoxo

LOOK 1-

Bodysuit-Jaded London

LOOK 2-

Bralette-Depop

LOOK 3-

Co-ord Suit-Boohoo

Bodysuit-Boohoo

LOOK 4-

Dress-Motel Rocks

Shoes-Schuh

LOOK 5-

Bodysuit-Zaful

Trousers-Depop

Coat-Topshop

LOOK 6-

Dress-Zaful

Belt-Zaful

LOOK 7-

Top-Jaded London

Hair Clips-H&M

Rue (Played by Zendaya Coleman)

I have a complicated relationship with Rue as a character. When I started season 1 of Euphoria, I was like “Oh my god, this girl is the worst. Jesus, she’s so negative and draining and willingly self-destructive and-”

Then, oh my god is this what it’s like to live with me!?

I will say, to my own credit, that I don’t think I've ever been quite as hard to deal with as Rue (a lot less smashing stuff up and a lot more moping), and to HER credit, by the end of the season we come to realise she’s been through a fucking lot and so it makes sense, but wow. I don’t think I have ever seen a teen show handle drug abuse and mental illness in such a brutal way. It’s quite a talent to be able to show a character cause so much pain to those closest to them and yet do so through a sympathetic lens. And issues aside, whether it’s her occasional social awkwardness or her relationship with her family or watching bloody Love Island (still quite surreal to see Zendaya Coleman witnessing the Amy/Curtis drama unfold), Rue is just my favourite character to follow. 

Her style, though. AH. The thing is, I can hardly drag it, because it’s pretty much what I wear when I’m moping about the house-or just any time I can get away with it to be honest-to a T. I want to stay true to character, but that being said, creating a “Seth Rogen”-esque outfit that’s worth posting on here is difficult. So, with the same kind of artistic license that had me wearing berets whilst cosplaying Maddy Perez, here is the best I could do:

I know, I know, it’s probably too much colour and jewellery for Rue but this is as toned down as I could do and I tried to stick with the key silhouettes we see from her throughout the season; I mean, I can’t see her wearing leopard print but the structure of the coat in outfit 1 is very similar to the one seen in Shook Ones pt.II. I think the bottom line when it comes to her character is keeping things effortless and not overly-feminine; you want to mix street style, athleisure and your dad’s wardrobe favourites like your life depends on it. Plus messy hair and smudged makeup, both of which I’ve already got down according to the completely inappropriate number of customers who’ve asked if I'm tired at work so thanks for that guys, and glitter tears. Lots and lots of glitter tears.

OUTFIT 1-

Dungarees-Vintage

OUTFIT 2-

Trousers-Depop

Cardigan-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 5-

Beanie-Depop

OUTFIT 6-

Shirt-Boohoo Man

Sports Bra-TK Maxx

Trousers-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 7-

Shirt-Jaded London

Cassie (Played by Sydney Sweeney)

Style-wise, Cassie is a hard one. When putting outfits for her character together, I found myself gravitating towards a direction that’s probably a bit too bohemian for her character, under the guidance of loose terms like “girl-next-door”, “floaty”, “delicate”, you get the idea. She definitely feels the least fully-realised in terms of all the main girls and I think it’s fair to say she’s probably got a bit of self-discovery to do. Most of her storylines in the season are dictated by her relationships to other people: McKay, Maddy, Lexie, her parents and so on. 

Nevertheless, I tried to stick to the airier, more traditionally “pretty” pieces whilst still channelling the confidence and ease with which Cassie pulls them off. Sydney Sweeney has the most incredible figure and I feel like whilst the clothes the on-set stylists put her in flatter that and don’t hide anything, they’re still the focus. It doesn’t feel like there’s anything more inherently sexual about her character than any of the other main female characters despite the way the men within the narrative view her, and I think it’s a testament to the the wardrobe department that to me she still gives off big modern Disney princess energy and a certain innocence even whilst we hear her being continuously sexualised by her male peers. 

If anything, Cassie probably dresses the most like an actual teenage girl, and her style, whilst less distinctive than the other girls, still does a good job of capturing the youth and romanticism of her character. 

The colour palette of her wardrobe tends to be quite neutral, with a couple of pastels thrown in there, and if there are any details, they’re usually quite dainty. Similarly, Cassie is probably the least experimental when it comes to her makeup; we don’t really see her wearing the bold eyeshadows or liners or gems like the other girls at any point.

OUTFIT 1-

Bodysuit-Motel Rocks

Hair Clips-Bershka

OUTFIT 2-

Dress-Jaded London

OUTFIT 3-

Trousers-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 4-

Top-Urban Outfitters

Hairband-H&M

`OUTFIT 5-

Top-Urban Outfitters

Jeans-Zaful

Headband-Primark

OUTFIT 6-

Top-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 7-

Dress-Urban Outfitters

Hair Clips-Boohoo

SO, I guess that’s it for my Euphoria lookbook! As always, let me know what you think (nicely pls, my ego is fragile lol) and I’d love to hear your opinions on the show too! I really haven’t got this excited over a new TV show in ages and I just think that it does everything so excellently-from the writing to the cinematography to the soundtrack, you can tell each element is so carefully and purposefully constructed. It immerses you into the dramatic highs and lows of being a teenager in a way I haven’t seen since UK Skins and I never thought I’d watch a show which held a candle to that. 

In terms of what I’m doing next, I’ve got a very delayed fashion week masterpost in the works as well as something to fill the Met Gala shaped hole in our lives, which I hope to get up over the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, if you read to the end, THANK YOU! And I hope you’re staying safe and AT HOME where possible. I know this self-isolation feels never-ending and if I’m honest, it is having a hugely negative effect on my mental health, but NHS staff are doing their very best with the shitty recourses they have and whilst it seems that our government have thrown workers under the bus once again, we can all do our bit to combat that by slowing the spread of the virus. Also thank you to anybody who’s out working now in such a scary and uncertain time! I work at a grocery store and can say from experience that the best way to show this thanks is just through kindness and following employee’s instructions without giving them grief for it. Everyone’s scared right now and the best we can do is pull together and look out for each other, as difficult as that might seem at times.

Anyway, sorry for the ramble, and like I said, stay safe! Thanks once again if you read til the end or even if you’re just here for the photos. Appreciate it more than you know either way!

Lauren x

[mud-on-the-turntable-blog]

Nana Grizol - Love It Love It (2008, Folk Punk / Indie Rock)

Hi! Nice to meet you! We are Max and Michayla, and this is the first post of our music review blog, Mud on the Turntable. The way our reviews work is one of us will recommend the other an album, and we both write some interesting things about the album separately. Read both of them, or just one of us if you like one of our particular writing styles, or neither if you don’t like either. Our first album is one Max suggested, Love It Love It by Nana Grizol. Enjoy!

Max + Michayla! xox

Michayla’s Review

Circles ‘Round the Moon

Feels like walking into your great-aunt’s yellow-walled kitchen at the break of day in the height of August. There is a hand-painted ceramic fruit bowl sitting on the counter full of oranges and grapefruit and limes. Your aunt is making pancakes and the scent of morning air, fresh cut grass, lavender, and clean sheets wafts in through the open windows while the warm morning sunlight pools onto the floors and cabinets and walls.

Colours: #f7f499/rgb(247, 244, 153), #ff693f/rgb(255, 105, 63), #68b233/rgb(104, 178, 51)

Tambourine - N - Thyme

Feels like floating suspended in deep aqua water, glittering fractals of light and swirls of infinitesimally small bubbles dancing around your body, framing you, frozen in a soft scream, watching the surface and the murk around you, but at peace with yourself, so beautifully suspended in fluid water. The smell of mossy dirt and powdered sugar on the tip of your tongue, neon lights shimmering in the distance, far, far away.

Colours: #0d7d99/rgb(13, 125, 153), #e20fbc/rgb(226, 15, 188), #c7f736/rgb(199, 247, 54)

Less Than the Air

Limoncello coloured with patches of red seeping through the page, like sun hitting your eyelashes while walking down an old dusty path, a long, hot sidewalk home, and walking through the front door of your house. Old maple floors lead into your living room, cream walls, pockmarked, covered in part by white linen curtains. You put on a record and dance barefoot in the living room. It feels like light, and the way it blurs your vision when it hits you like a camera lens. Tastes like fairy bread and rosemary.

Colours: #fff0a5/rgb(255, 240, 165), #d60000/rgb(214, 0, 0), #ad7c2d/rgb(173, 124, 45)

Motion in the Ocean

A soft blush pink set against ivory countertops. You find yourself getting ready for a party you never intended on going to, shell jewelry, drops of gold falling from your fingers like tears, the sky is darkening to indigo outside your window. Counting minutes on your fingers only to find you’ve run out far more times than it takes to eat the peaches your mother brought you late at night. Waking up tired and wishing for the sun, the taste of cold water and soft kisses, a memory of a dream.

Colours: #f2cbcb/rgb(242, 203, 203), #fcf6e3/rgb(252, 246, 227), #16074f/rgb(22, 7, 79)

Voices Echo Down Thee Halls

Stopping at a tiny diner along the highway, the vinyl seats are a pale minty-olive, you lean against the wall, faded highway signs and ancient greeting flash before your eyes, technicolour in the key of static radio waves, lying on the pavement, the sun beats down as you roll into the gravel, the dirt. Asphalt and car fumes, toasted tomato sandwiches and too much salt, wooden car panelling and the wrong colour of carpet.

Colours: #5faf56/rgb(95, 175, 86), #d1a877/rgb(209, 168, 119), #ef410b/rgb(239, 65, 11)

Stop and Smell Thee Roses

Like picking daisies in the overrun backyard of your childhood best friend’s house, dirty white picket fence set against mud and grass and a rain-heavy sky. Your laughter feels like home in her hands and you remember the sound of so many of you, running out the screen door, all strawberry-red-stained fingers and polaroid photos and charcoal smouldering in the fire pit, notes scribbled in pencil on loose-leaf paper, store-bought bread sticky on your teeth. The moment retakes you and you fall to your knees and smile and the first drops of rain hit your face.

Colours: #d8c302/rgb(216, 195, 2), #9598a0/rgb(149, 152, 160), #ffffff/rgb(255, 255, 255)

Tiny Rainbows

The rain clearing up and leaving sparkling puddles in the cracks in the pavement around your school, a warm september, you dive in and the droplets fall everywhere except your eyes, a rubber raincoat and not a single lie. Like falling down and finding yourself,a loving embrace after a cold winter day, fresh fruit on your lips, and the smell of coming home.

Colours: #05000f/rgb(5, 0, 15), #d3287b/rgb(211, 40, 123), #ff9011/rgb(255, 144, 17)

Everything You Ever Hoped or Worked For

Watching the sunset burn bright and melt down on another’s face, running away and finding joy in the places you’ve been. Crickets humming along to the beat of your footsteps and lulling you to sleep, to dream of stars and new beginnings at 2 in the afternoon. It tastes like bubblegum and sunshine, spilling down your chin from the back of your glass, bottle green, a telescope to where you’ll be, soon.

Colours: #65b277/rgb(101, 178, 119), #ff4e02/rgb(255, 78, 2), #abad53/rgb(171, 173, 83)

Broken Cityscapes

Washed out denim, sleeping with your jacket and shoes on, preaching holy words in the back alley to the birds, scattering seeds, soft and teardrop shaped, a touch of arange, rosy edges. Windchimes in the distance as they flock on the telephone wires and the words fade out, your hands dry and cracked but worth the smiles of the living, light seeping through the cracks in the clouds on a morning of second chances. The taste of cold tea chokes the back of your throat, garden carrots and lake water up your nose.

Colours: #9398c4/rgb(147, 152, 196), #e08247/rgb(224, 130, 71), #d9d4dbrgb(217, 212, 219)

The Idea That Everything Could Ever Possibly Be Said

Deep saturated garden greens not properly captured behind a grainy sepia photograph. Making notes on old graph paper, left on the desk in the unfinished attic, the trees tapping on the windows as the daylight pours into the room and into you, the exposed wooden beams house secrets and grocery lists, your mother told you to take out the trash, but that was five years ago today. You find comfort in eating cereal for lunch and all those things you would do as a child, now grown, now finding the light.

Colours: #543722/rgb(84, 55, 34), #0b5111/rgb(11, 81, 17), #e0e2b3/rgb(224, 226, 179)

Untitled Hidden Track

Screeching to a halt on a grid road just to see the stars, pen in spilled everywhere after your pen broke, you run and hide, the smell of acetone and burnt toast follows. It feels like shoving everything you wn off a desk and into your backpack and running, tears or blood or sweat running down your cheeks.

Colours: #0a0047/rgb(10, 0, 71), #f4fc58/rgb(244, 252, 88), #ff2b2b/rgb(255, 43, 43)

Overview

Overall, this album feels like falling into a pool of sunshine, and filling your lungs with it. Every song feels like another wave washing over you, the endings of each track hit like breaking the surface of the water for a gasp of air before going under again. If you needed a pick me up, try this one shot injection of good vibes, sunlight, and punchy musical citrus.

Anywho, congrats if you made it through that entire review! If you’re curious about how the songs translate into colours through my synesthesia, go on and copy/paste the colour codes into Google’s handy “colour picker” (just google it and then chuck the bits with a # into the top line of the colour picker) and it should work. I think. . .

Cheers!

Michayla Siwak

Max’s Review

Very rarely do I feel like I am the target audience of an album. However, whether this is actually true or not, Nana Grizol’s Love It Love It is certainly one that matches how I currently feel at this stage in my life.

All throughout this record, there is a sense of nostalgia and bittersweetness that I just couldn’t shake while listening to it. This emotional impact is noticeable from the very first song, “Circles ‘Round the Moon”. It represents a type of fantasy that I, and probably many other 18-year-old music fans who are scared of, yet excited about the intimidatingly massive world they’ve been thrust into, have quite often. Yes, the track tells a story of young relationships and figuring all those out, but it also describes leaving the big city for some place of solitude and simplicity in nature. It’s a beautiful thing really.

Musically, this feeling of homemade simplicity is reflected in every track. Far and away my favourite musical aspect of this album is the horns that will often come in and add to the pretty intense emotional impact this album has. The little imperfections and human-ness that is added by these wind arrangements serves as another tool to emphasize the feelings I’ve been writing about so far. Beautiful swells of trumpets cause your stomach to do little flips of excitement and emotion in songs like “The Idea That Everything Could Ever Possibly Be Said”. They add so much to the crescendos and dynamic changes throughout the album and are an indispensable part of the project as a whole. The songs all feel organic, like they’re being played by a group of friends in the background while you’re at some house party, stoned out of your mind and feeling insecure about the stupid shit you say in front of individuals of your preferred sex.

“Motion in the Ocean”, a huge highlight on the album for me both lyrically and musically, resonates with me more than almost anything else on this record. Lines like “It seems that we are clams inside our shells / Side by side on rocks we feel the tide as the sea contracts and swells” emphasize the feeling of powerlessness an 18-year-old Canadian who just failed his first year of university in a city of 2.463 million people (as of 2016) can feel sometimes. Yes, perhaps many of these lyrics are a tad on-the-nose and almost approaching cliché, but that adds to the beauty of it. Does this really make the messages and emotions conveyed by Love It Love It any less powerful or have any less meaning? These emotions and themes feel so genuine it’s hard to hate them, as much as the cold, cynical, pretentious arsehole in me wants to. What can I say? I can’t help but like and relate to this dumb little album. It’s great.

Yeah, sure. There’s lots of folky indie rock out there that will give you these kind of feels. I’m sure there are thousands of bands like this that try to do the same things. I can’t call this album revolutionary, or even especially fresh and different. No, the power in this album lies in its consistency and lovability. It fits very comfortably in a genre and mood that’s been done to death, but the playful, casual arrangements, lovably self-deprecating yet optimistic lyrics, and complete relatability to this young, confused college student make it pretty damn special in my books. Listen to it with some friends in the forest and let the stresses of post-adolescent mediocrity float away from you for a bit. At the very least, you’ll feel a helluva lot less alone after giving this a spin.

Perhaps this was a very fitting album for our first review in the gargantuan community of music reviewers. It’s pretty hard to recommend a better album for a couple of kids just starting their journey into a brand-new world who have no fucking clue what we’re doing. Anyway, I hope you enjoy our reviews.

Love,

Max Gilmour

Bandcamp

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Just Get Home by Bridget Foley

 Earthquakes in California are real…and there is always the underlying thought of, “What if this is the big one?” as the earth rumbles and shakes. Having been through a few and seen the damage they can wreak makes this story all the more real and…”earthshaking” to think about the “what ifs” should a HUGE trembler ever hit California. Two people form an unusual alliance as they make their way through devastated Los Angeles to reach safety and what they face is thought provoking, dark, and sometimes painful to read.

 What I liked:

* Beegie: fifteen, orphan, in the foster system, hard backstory, a survivor, strong, resilient, and deserving of a better future.

* Dessa: single mother, conflicted, in a dead-end relationship, treading water, difficult relationship with her deceased mother, both parents deceased, loves her daughter, grew on me over time.

* That I found the story believable and could imagine finding myself in such a situation.

* The way the difficult situations were written

* Knowing the location well so being able to visualize where the two women were

* That both women were stronger than they realized and grew stronger as the story propgressed

* The alliance/friendship that developed between the two women

* Thinking about what the future for the women might be – hope it is better than their past

* Seeing glimpses of both of their lives before the earthquake

* That they both survived the ordeal and found a way forward…at least for awhile

 What I didn’t like:

* Beegie’s rotten luck in life: mother, foster parents, social worker, what happened to her the night of the earthquake

* Dessa’s mother, the man who fathered her child, that she was a bit wishy-washy, and her reasoning was so much different than I wanted it to be

* Not knowing what happened later – an epilogue might have been nice

* That human beings in a chaotic situation can be so horrible to one another – opportunistic hedonistic and ruthless

 Did I enjoy this book? I did but found myself skimming at times

Would I read more by this author? I might

 Thank you to NetGalley and Harlequin-Mira for the ARC – This is my honest review.

 4 Stars

    BOOK SUMMARY:

When the Big One earthquake hits LA, a single mother and a teen in the foster system are brought together by their circumstances and an act of violence in order to survive the wrecked streets of the city, working together to just get home.

 Dessa, a single mom, is enjoying a rare night out when a devastating earthquake strikes. Roads and overpasses crumble, cell towers are out everywhere, and now she must cross the ruined city to get back to her three-year-old daughter, not even knowing whether she's dead or alive. Danger in the streets escalates, as looting and lawlessness erupts. When she witnesses a moment of violence but isn't able to intervene, it nearly puts Dessa over the edge.

Fate throws Dessa a curveball when the victim of the crime—a smart-talking 15-year-old foster kid named Beegie—shows up again in the role of savior, linking the pair together. Beegie is a troubled teen with a relentless sense of humor and resilient spirit that enables them both to survive. Both women learn to rely on each other in ways they never imagined possible, to permit vulnerability and embrace the truth of their own lives.

A propulsive page-turner grounded by unforgettable characters and a deep emotional core, JUST GET HOME will strike a chord with mainstream thriller readers for its legitimately heart-pounding action scenes, and with book club audiences looking for weighty, challenging content.

BUY LINKS:

Harlequin

Indiebound

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Books-A-Million

Target

Walmart

Google

iBooks

Kobo

EXTRACT

 Prologue

 Assist the client in gathering possessions.

Beegie saw it written on a sheet Karen had in her folder. An unticked box next to it.

She knew what it meant. Stuff.

But it was the other meaning that soothed her.

The darker meaning. Possessions.

That was the one she worked over and over in her head.  

Beegie imagined her case worker holding up a grey little girl, face obscured by black hair and asking, “This one yours?”  Beegie would nod. Yes, that’s my monster. Together they would shove one snarling, demon-filled person after another into the garbage bags they had been given to pack her things. Soon the bags would fill, growing translucent with strain. When they were done, she and Karen would have to push down on the snapping, bloody faces of Beegie’s possessions so they could close the back of the Prius.  

           But Karen’s box remained unticked. She didn’t get to help collect Beegie’s possessions, real or unreal, because Beegie’s stuff was already on the street when she got home.

Two garbarge bags filled with nothing special. Her advocate standing next to them with her folder and its helpful advice for what to do when a foster gets kicked out of her home.

Nothing special.

Just almost everything Beegie owned in the world.

Almost but not all.

           Whatever.

After Karen dropped her off and Barb had shown her “Her New Home” and given her the rundown on “The Way It Works Here,” Beegie unpacked her possessions into a bureau that the girl who’d lived there before her had made empty, but not clean.

The bottoms of the drawers were covered in spilled glitter. Pink and gold. Beegie had pressed the tips of her fingers into the wood to pull it up, making disco balls of her hands.

But she failed to get it all.

Months later, she would find stray squares of this other girl’s glitter on her clothes. They would catch the light, drawing her back to the moment when she’d finally given up on getting the bureau any cleaner and started to unpack the garbage bags.

           There had been things missing.

That Beegie had expected.

But what she had not expected was to find two other neatly folded garbage bags. These were the ones she had used to move her stuff from Janelle’s to the Greely’s. She had kept them, even though back then Mrs. Greely was all smiles and Eric seemed nice, and even Rooster would let her pet him.

Beegie had kept the bags because she’d been around long enough to know that sometimes it doesn’t work out.

In fact, most times it doesn’t work out.

And you need a bag to put your stuff in and you don’t want to have to ask the person who doesn’t want you to live with them anymore to give you one.

But when Mrs. Greely had gathered Beegie’s possessions, she had seen those bags and thought that they were important to Beegie. It made sense to her former foster mother that a “garbage girl” would treasure a garbage bag.

This got Beegie thinking about stuff. The problem of it. The need for things to hold your other things. Things to fix your things. Things to make your things play.  

And a place to keep it all.

In Beegie’s brain the problem of possessions multiplied, until she imagined it like a landfill. Things to hold things to hold things, all of it covered with flies, seagulls swooping.

Everything she ever owned was trash or one day would be.

Seeing things this way helped. It made her mind less about the things that hadn’t been in the bag… and other things.

Beegie picked at ownership like a scab, working her way around the edges, flaking it off a bit at a time. Ridding herself of the brown crust of caring.

Because if you care about something it has power over you.

Caring can give someone else the ability to control you and the only real way to own yourself was let go.

So she did.

Or she tried.  

Some things Beegie couldn’t quite shed. The want of them stuck to her like the glitter. The pain of their loss catching the light on her sleeves, flashing from the hem of her jeans. The want would wait on her body until it attracted her attention and then eluded the grasping edges of her fingers.

Excerpted from Just Get Home by Bridget Foley, Copyright © 2021 by Bridget Foley. Published by MIRA Books.

  AUTHOR BIO

Originally from Colorado, Bridget Foley attended NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts and UCLA's School of Theater, Film & Television. She worked as an actor and screenwriter before becoming a novelist. She now lives a fiercely creative life with her family in Boise, Idaho.

SOCIAL:

Author Website: http://www.wonderfoley.com/

Instagram: @bridgetfoleywriter

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/12378942.Bridget_Foley

Q&A with Bridget Foley

Q: How much research do you do before beginning to write a book? Do you go to locations, ride with police, go to see an autopsy, etc.

A:It depends on the story – research is one of my favorite parts of writing!  For JUST GET HOME, I’d lived in Los Angeles for over a decade so I was pretty familiar with the locations… but I needed to do a lot of research into the foster care system as well as first hand accounts of earthquakes.

Q: What hobbies do you enjoy?

A: Weightlifting, Walking and Water coloring -- probably because they’re all things I can do while listening to audio books!

Q: Do you write under one name for all books across genres or do you have other AKA's?

A: Just the one name.

Q: Do you have pets?

A: My dear sweet dog passed away at the age of 14 at the end of 2019. I was advised to wait a month for every year we had her before getting a new companion. It’s odd, because while I missed her I didn’t long for another pet at all for that time… and then suddenly after 14 months I went dog crazy. It got to the point where I was slowing the car down to tell people walking their dogs how cute and fluffy their pups were. My children were mortified. So, no, we don’t have a new pup yet, but I feel sure it will happen soon.

Q: What’s your favorite part of writing suspense?

A: I’m an outliner, which I prefer because it means I get to use an entirely different part of my brain once I get to the drafting process. Since by then the heavy lifting of plot is done, I can fully immerse myself in the experience of the characters - which means I spend a lot of time holding my breath and sweating in my writing chair.

Q: Do you prefer reading and/or writing suspense with elements of romance? Why or why not?

A: I adore a good love story… but I haven’t cracked my version of one yet. My first novel HUGO & ROSE was a subversion of the ‘man of your dreams’ trope, so I suppose there were elements of romance in the book but not in the expected ways. JUST GET HOME is filled with desperate, aching love, but none of it is the romantic kind.

Q: From the books you’ve written or read, who has been your favorite villain and why?

A: I’ve found in life that most people are their own villains. There is usually no shadowy figure pulling the strings or arch enemy subverting plans - for many of us, when our lives go awry, we ourselves are personally responsible for whatever choices that led us there. Obviously that’s not always the case in life or in fiction, but as a writer I’m most creatively interested in characters who are grappling with their internal villains rather than an externalized source. So I suppose the answer is that my favorite villains are also my favorite heroes.

[looselucy]

In which Harry is a stripper…

3943 words / Mature

The boy who delivered our drinks was only wearing a flimsy, black apron, which was tied carefully around his waist. With the tray perfectly balanced upon the palm of his hand, he began to pass our drinks out, a huge grin on his face, and his cock just inches from my face. I turned to the rest of the girls with wide eyes. “Special occasion?” He asked, a thick Irish accent. “I’m getting married!” The bride to be piped up, as smug as ever. “Congratulations!” He beamed. “Sad to see you off the market, Gorgeous.” All the girls sat around our table let out almighty giggles, swooning and fanning themselves, whereas I was too busy trying not to turn back in his direction and stare at his groin. I figured he was used to it in his line of work, but it still felt a little intrusive. “What’s your name?” Katie barked at him. “Niall.” He replied. “I’ll be your waiter for the evening. You need anything, just give me a shout.” “What about your number?”

Everyone bar me laughed, because I was still trying to wrap my head around the entire scenario, whereas the rest of the girls were just filled with this new confidence that they would never have anywhere outside an all-male strip-club. It was a first time experience for all of us, and it seemed I was the only one struggling to get into the swing of it. Again, it might just be to do with the fact there was a cock just inches from my face. Niall just grinned again, finally placing down the final drink. “Have a good night, ladies.” He wished. With that he went, the table erupting into another fit of giggles when he turned and revealed his bare arse to us, sauntering away with an undeniable confidence. “Cheer up, Ash.” Katie nudged me. “I’m cheery! I’m just… baffled! This is all new territory for me.” I gasped. “Well if you can’t cope with this, how are you going to cope when there’s a bunch of gorgeous guys onstage with their cocks out?” “Probably not very well.” She just laughed at me, and went back to conversing with the girl sat at the other side of her. Katie was a girl I’d kind of grown up with. My parents knew her parents, and we’d been friends since we were kids, but not really close friends. I’d met most of the girls a few times, but none of them other than Katie, and Lara, the bride, were really friends. They were all extremely loud and rowdy, and I felt like a damn mouse amongst them. I’m not sure how long we waited for the act to start, but it felt like a lifetime. You could almost feel the tension building in the room with each passing minute, mainly women, but a few men all eager for the show, waiting for the lights to dim and for the curtains to open. I wasn’t necessarily excited, but I knew that if anything, I’d get a good laugh out of the evening. By the time the lights finally went down, the screams that ran around the room were almost deafening. I cringed with the noise, taking another swig of my bright pink cocktail through my penis shaped straw, still trying to ease into the evening. I cursed the fact we were sat so close to the front. I rolled my eyes when ‘Pony’ started playing, the squeals around the room still consistent but not quite as loud as they had been, and a few seconds later, the curtains whipped open, two beefy men wandering onto the stage. I rolled my eyes, but smiled. I couldn’t help it. They were both huge, tight muscles stretching their skin, and they both looked almost bloody identical. You couldn’t pick the two of them from a damn line up. They were exactly what I pictured strippers to look like. “I’m already having, the best time.” Katie gawped. They both started out with a pretty simple routine, just walking around the stage with their white tank-tops on, eyeing up everyone in the room like they wanted to fuck them. I snuggled a little further into my seat, staring at their feet briefly and noticing they were barefoot as they began to finally dance along, and again, the screams got louder. I glanced around the table, a few of the girls fanning themselves already even though they’d barely moved. I was slowly allowing myself to get into the swing of things, ignoring how bizarre the concept was and just letting myself ogle the men onstage. It was pointless not doing. Their bumping and grinding continued for a while, all their clothes still intact, and I think at one point I even cheered them on. It was after the first chorus that a third man walked onstage. My eyes widened. “Holy. Shit.” I breathed. The screaming around the room hit a new height. He wasn’t like the other men. He wasn’t quite as ripped, nor was he as tanned, but he was fascinating. He had this long, flowing, curly hair, his body covered in random tattoos, splattered over his perfectly toned body like he’d just allowed twenty random tattoo artists to do whatever the fuck they wanted. The smirk on his face was enough to make my stomach churn, because he was fully aware of the fact that even though he wasn’t as muscular as the other two, and maybe not as stereotypically attractive, his beauty completely outplayed theirs. He was absolutely fascinating. And he fucking knew it. The other two boys ripped their tops off to join him, the three of them now only wearing loose, black combat pants that rode low on their hips, and then they began to all dance in time with one another. I kept my eyes on the new addition, watching as he bit his bottom lip and ground his hips, staring out to the audience as he bent his knees and snapped his hips, and I was utterly captivated. The way his body rolled should have been illegal, the intensity behind it, the way his figure curved. His tattoos would slowly distort and bend before snapping back into place, and I swear my mouth dropped open. At first, I thought the night was going to be humorous, but then the boy with the butterfly tattoo and the flawless body had stepped onstage, and suddenly I felt uncomfortable in my seat. I watched him trail his large hands slowly down the front of his body, pushing his abs up against his touch before he lagged down to his crotch, grabbing at the area, and I sucked in a large swell of air so quickly that my chest almost hurt. He then yanked his hand forwards, his pants following the movement and leaving him with next to nothing on. I knew the other lads had done the same thing, but they were receiving none of my attention. “He’s unreal.” I spoke a little louder than I meant to. “He doesn’t look like a stripper.” Katie leaned a little closer to me. “He looks better!” Dramatically, the three of them dropped to their knees, the speed of their hips quickening, and you could clearly see their dicks bouncing within the tiny, glittered cloth that covered them. All the girls at the table were screaming wildly, but I was silent, fixed rigidly to my spot, my eyes completely fixed on his groin and I wasn’t sure I could ever tear them away. “SHOW US YOUR DICK!” Lara yelled. It was only hearing those words that allowed me to lift my eyes, but when I did I regretted it immediately. He was looking at me. With that dimpled smirk and those low eyes, he was looking right at me, smug after seeing me staring at his cock for so long. He tweaked his brows and bit his bottom lip again as he pushed so he was back on his feet, cracking his neck to the side so that his long hair all fell over one shoulder. His lips were so pink, only amplified when he slowly ran his tongue over them, wetting them so much that they began to almost sparkle beneath the pink stage lights. He was still fucking looking at me. So when he jumped off the stage, I think I knew that I would be his target. I stiffened even more, if that was possible, and watched him approach me, all the girls around me completely losing their shit, but I could barely even acknowledge their presence. I just watched him, and with each step he became that bit more human. He walked out of the blinding lights and into the darkness where I sat, each feature becoming clearer as he moved, so I could distinguish even the smallest blemish on his skin. He looked so damn happy with himself. “Oh shit. I’m gunna die.” I mumbled to myself. He pinched his fingers at the back of my chair, just over my shoulder, and the pulled his body forward, straddling my hips, and leaning his lips to my ear. “Are you okay with this?” He spoke lowly. His voice. Fuck, his voice. I felt like I was going to die anyway. I had one of the most beautiful boys I had ever seen in my life with his scantily-clad dick pushed against my groin, his long curls tickling my neck and the top half of my chest, his own chest shining and just inches away from me, and I swear I could almost hear the birds tattooed on his skin singing to me. And then he fucking spoke, and I almost collapsed. His voice was so deep, and husky, and kind and hot and breath-taking, and how he’d managed to hold all those things within his voice and just a few words, was completely dreamlike. He slowly pulled his head back, his forehead almost pressed against mine as he waited for my approval, but all I could do was nod. The very second I did, he thrust his hips even closer to me, grinding against my unyielding frame as I solely concentrated on not having a breakdown. My eyes focused on his butterfly tattoo, but it wasn’t much help. I could see each flex and twitch of his body, the light layer of sweat he’d built during his performance, and I thought I was going to faint. I lifted my eyes up to his face, seeing the way he smiled as he worked his body against mine, his hair dishevelled and perfect and I felt even worse. “Touch me.” He demanded. “What?” I cried. “Let loose.” He sniggered, and I could just about hear him through the shrieks of the women around us. “Touch me.” I nodded again, shakily reaching my hand and tracing the very tips of my fingers down his body, feeling his gorgeous muscles beneath my touch, and I think I near whimpered. “Fuck me.” I trembled. “If you want.” He grinned. “No! No, I meant- Shit.” He pushed back off me, and then offered his hand, stood ahead of me with an arrogant smile and flushed cheeks, and I didn’t even know what the fuck I was doing as I placed my hand in his. I was completely wrapped up in him, somehow becoming blind to my surroundings, and it had been that way ever since he stepped offstage. It was only when I realised that he was dragging me back onstage with him that I fell with a thud back into reality. “Are you kidding me?” I gasped, yanking my hand from his. He turned back to me, pulling his body so it was close to mine, and he softened, completely changed just for a few brief moments, like it was just me and him. “You’ll only be onstage for two minutes. I promise. I don’t wanna force you, but I promise you’ll be fine.” I nervously bit at my bottom lip, noting that the smirk of his that I’d grown accustom to had fast become this kind smile, one that was impossible to say no to. I placed my hand back in his, and allowed him to drag me back onto the stage, one of the other men pulling a chair from seemingly nowhere and placing it in the centre of the stage, which I soon sat down on. I looked out to the girls I was there with, just about being able to make them out beyond the lights that now beat down hard onto my skin, and I could see them all dying. Some were on their feet, others were fanning themselves, others were laughing, I was pretty sure I even saw a couple of them crying. But I couldn’t dwell on it for too long, because within seconds, the boy with the curls was back with me, throwing my legs apart so he could stand between them, and then he rapidly lifted his right leg so he could press his foot against the back of my chair, his arse on show for the audience and his dick in my face. I’d struggled with the waiter earlier. This time, I thought I’d seen my life flash before my eyes. He thrust in my face, the squeals and cackles coming from the audience ringing in my ears as I forced my eyes back upwards, trying to ignore the flailing dick in my face, but that also involved ignoring the sheer size of the thing, which wasn’t an easy thing to do. He lowered his leg quite quickly, and I wondered if this was something that usually went on a little bit longer and he was just rushing through the process because he knew I was dying inside. He dropped down to his knees, still between my legs as he forced them even wider, and every time I thought the crowd couldn’t scream louder, they proved me wrong. He threw his head forward, and I knew exactly what it looked like to the audience, but even though his face was scarily close to my core, he was purely smiling up to me, as smug as he had been when he walked onstage for the first time. My stomach was in complete tatters. He jumped back to his feet after just a few seconds with his face between my legs, and then he took my hand again, dragging me to my feet and holding my hand up high before he leaned to my ear again. “What’s your name?” He asked. “Ash.” I mumbled. “LADIES AND GENTLEMAN,” He called to the room. “PLEASE SHOW YOUR APPRECIATION FOR OUR GUEST STAR FOR THE EVENING, ASH!” I saw all the girls were on their feet by that point, cheering me happily and all still kind of falling over themselves over what had just happened. None of it made any sense to me. After I’d accepted my applause for a while, he once more took his lips to my ears, erupting an army of goose-bumps, lavishing my entire body when his low voice called to me, and only me. “Go backstage,” He instructed. “They’ll sort you out.” I was surprised my legs were still working, in all honesty. I gave the crowd a timid wave before I ran off the side of the stage, where a man with a big smile and a glass of champagne stood waiting for me. “You did great.” He cooed once I was beside him, passing me the drink. “I think I need fresh air.” I gasped, before immediately downing the entirety of the drink he’d handed me. “Is there anywhere I can go?” “Smoking area just through those doors.” He pointed me in the right direction. “H once practiced on me, and I swear I questioned if I was straight or not afterwards.” “H?” I questioned as he took the now empty glass from me hands. “I can’t tell you his name.” He sniggered. “Nice try.” “No, I didn’t- Fuck. Never mind. Thank you!” I scuttled off towards the doors he had pointed me to, hearing the crowd cheer behind me as the music came to a halt, and although it had been the first of three shows going on that night, I wasn’t sure I had the capacity to sit through anything else. I also knew that there wasn’t a chance they could produce another boy who had that same effect on me that the tattooed boy had. It felt like a physical relief once I was finally outdoors. The evenings wind was bitterly freezing and exactly what I needed as I pressed my back against the bare brick wall, my breath coming out in thick clouds that rose towards the sky before disintegrating, and I watched each desperate pant in an attempt to calm and cool down. I felt I was a few seconds away from being successful when I heard the doors open. I whipped my head in their direction, and there he was again. The mysterious, infuriatingly sexy, H. He was slightly more covered than he had been, some grey sweatpants that were so low around his hips that I could see the beginning tufts of his pubic hair. He was still breathless, his torso still bare, and his feet bare too. My whole body went tight again. “Hi.” I gasped. He smiled, letting the heavy door shut behind him, seeming a little confused to see me there, but happy nonetheless. “Hello.” He greeted. “I’m sorry if I ruined your show!” I blurted. “What?” “I totally freaked. I couldn’t let loose, I’m sorry.” “Why did you freak so much?” He asked, slowly approaching me. “Have you looked in a mirror? Ever?” I shivered. “That’s why.” He chuckled as he approached me, running his large hand through his hair so that most of his curls fell to one side, and then he stopped in front of me, our bodies just inches from each other. This, with him in front of me, looking down to me with eyes that I could now see were green, was somehow more intense than anything had been whilst we were out there with the crowd. There was something in the way he looked at me, and how I could finally feel exactly how cold it was when he was close. “You didn’t ruin anything.” He told me. “I enjoyed it. I picked you on purpose.” “Oh.” I swallowed. “Why?” “It’s not that often we get quiet people here. People sometimes… take it a bit too far and… make us uncomfortable. Which is quite the task.” He grinned. “You seemed… tame. I like that.” “I don’t think anyone has ever complimented me for being tame before.” I chuckled awkwardly. “No?” He lowered his brows. “Don’t tell me I’ve got you wrong.” “I dunno.” I shrugged, laughing lightly. “I’m not all tame.” “Prove it.” My head banged against the wall behind me, once again my eyes wide as I thought over his challenge, watching him edge even closer to me. I managed to pull some confidence from somewhere, throwing away my logical thoughts and pushing up to my tiptoes so that I could press a soft kiss to his lips, just briefly, before I fell back down to my regular height. I stared up to him, an apology on the very tip of my tongue before he threw his head forward, kissing me fiercely. His hands found their way to my waist, pushing me up against the wall as his tongue broke into my mouth, grunting as soon my lips widened to welcome his taste. Our kiss was desperate, needy, hot and rattled. I’d fucking dreamt of what his lips were like on my body pretty much from the moment I saw him walk onstage, but those dreams didn’t compare to the real thing. I had no idea why he was choosing to kiss me, if this was something he did every night with every innocent woman that he dragged onstage, but I didn’t even care. His tongue felt like heaven as it laced with mine, his large hands seemed to completely engulf my waist, and it was like all that tension I’d felt in there was washing away. His hands began to move down my body, and before I knew what he was doing, he was hitching my dress up, his fingers hooking through my underwear. “Do you want me to fuck you?” He gasped against my trembling lips. “I don’t even know your name.” I gasped back. “Harry.” He groaned, moving his lips to my neck. “Now can I fuck you?” “Yes.” He moved his hand and cupped my heat, before snaking two fingers into me, the digits sliding in with total ease. “Did I make you this wet?” He lifted his lips to whisper in my ear. “Tell me.” “Yes.” I whimpered. With that, he fucked his fingers into me with harsh speed, his thumb rubbing against my clit and my legs buckling. He pressed his body even further into mine, trapping me between his frame and the wall so that I didn’t completely fall to the floor. He moved to bite harshly at my neck, grunting as his fingers worked into me and made me weak, my pleasure leaking onto his skin, hot again regardless of the fact we were outside in the dingy smoking area of a fucking stripper club. The work of his hands sent shivers and trembles flirting through my entire body, my hand snaking up to grip at his hair as I felt myself breaking, his thumb moving even quicker and his teeth biting at my neck. I stopped breathing as I came, and he moved his head so he could see my face, and once again he was smug, the left hand side of his top lip tugging upwards as he watched me ride it out. “Fuck.” I gasped as he took his fingers and pulled them away. There was a loud crash behind us, the two of us whipping our heads in the right direction, trying to act as nonchalant as possible, but it didn’t really work. “Woah, shit, fuck, sorry.” Niall, the boy who had originally served us gasped, standing in the doorway but turning to look indoors. “H, you’re on again in five.” “Okay. Cheers.” He grumbled back. Once again, we were left alone, Harry looking back down to me, his Adams-apple bouncing as he lifted his fingers to his mouth, lightly sucking on them, relishing my taste. “I’m sorry.” He grumbled. “I have to go.” “Fuck.” I gasped again, still not back on earth. “Stay backstage.” He demanded, gripping the back of my neck, his fingers still wet. “Stay back here.” “My friends-” “Fuck your friends.” “It’s a hen-party.” I baffled. “I really should get back.” “Fine.” He smirked, stepping away from me. “Well, go sit with them again, but after the last show… when one of the bouncers comes up to you and asks if you’ve left something backstage, you say yes. You understand?” “Yes.” I nodded nervously. “Good.” He smirked, backing away from me. “Well, in that case… I’ll finish you in a few hours.” I hated how confident he was, because it only increased my nerves, and held them beneath a magnifying glass. “Okay.” I trembled. He pushed through to get back indoors, watching me from the doorway and saying one final thing before he disappeared, leaving me breathless and flustered among the brick and concrete. “You taste amazing, by the way.” He sneered, and I’d never wanted anyone so much in my life.

[theclaravoyant]

It’s All Fun & Games (Huntingbird)

AN ~ Happy Valentine’s Day @unlessimwrongwhichyouknowimnot! I had so many ideas from your prompt, from the angsty to the downright ridiculous. Hopefully I worked it all into a suitable mix of flirty, funny, and serious, as befitting these two great Agents of Shield. I hope you like it!

Prompt: How did the ‘don’t die out there’ tradition start?

Read on AO3 (~3600wd)

It’s All Fun & Games

The fire escape cluttered and clanked, and the hunter breathed heavily as she ran down it, leaping steps and sliding down ladders like the rust and grime were nothing. All subtlety had been abandoned in a last-ditch effort to reach her prey. She threw herself over the railing of the last landing, planning to cushion herself with his back, but he had already moved away. She rolled instead, but by the time she had righted herself, her target had disappeared.

“Damn it.”

She raked a hand through long blonde hair, glad at least that she hadn’t bloodied herself up in the process of achieving so little. A pounding heart and light sweat were all she’d suffered.

Well, that and a blown cover, she was reminded as raucous laughter made itself heard from the inside of the pub. She could hear his voice above it all, obnoxious and sharply different from the rest with its foreign tang. He was pretending to be more drunk than he actually was, probably trying to distract everybody from what had just gone down in there. Trying to distract them from the fact that he’d blown her cover and set an assassin – or two, depending on how one thought about it – loose on them all.

Try though he might, that wasn’t going to stop her killing him.

(Proverbially, of course.)

(Probably.)

Bobbi Morse ground her teeth together, checked herself over for overt signs of a ruffling, and checked that her weapons remained sufficiently hidden. Then she waited for the opportune moment to duck back out onto the street and back through the front entrance of the bar.

She threw the door open with decisive force, and her keen eyes sought out the obnoxious voice. Its owner was sitting on a bench at the back of the place, near the galley and restrooms. He wore army-surplus cargo pants and boots and a leather jacket, and sat with his legs casually apart, arms flying, gesturing with a beer-bottle this way and that and swaying for good measure, loudly regaling an old army story to the two guys standing in front of him. He was doing well, too, until – through the carefully arranged gap in his audience members, Bobbi noticed – he spotted her. And the fire in her eyes. And the very obvious bone she had to pick: she wouldn’t have come back here if she’d got her man.

Hunter laughed loudly and stumbled a little as he slid himself off the bench. The two men protested with indistinguishable groans and Hunter waved them off.

“Oi, I gotta take a piss aye?” he insisted, and staggered drunkenly around the corner. Bobbi, still grinding her teeth, slipped and smiled and sidled her way through the crowd and after him as quickly as she dared, and when she reached the internal alleyway with the bathrooms and storerooms, found that he may have been killing two birds with one stone.

Or maybe he had just been taking a piss, as he left the men’s toilets with a jovial step and seemed genuinely surprised when Bobbi grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall.

“Hey, love,” he rasped, still not quite recovered from the shock, or the terror that came from staring a highly trained Shield assassin in the face. “You wanna buy me a drink first?”

“You know who that was?” Bobbi hissed, because of course he did, because this useless merc had been after him too. “The Ghost. Do you know why they call him ‘The Ghost’?”

Hunter shrugged as best he could. “Because of his eerily fair complexion?”

Bobbi’s eyes narrowed. Hunter smiled innocently and raised his hands as if in confusion. Bobbi sighed and let him go, stepping back.

“Go die in a hole, mercenary,” she hissed.

“I could say the same to you, G-man,” Hunter returned sharply. “Or do you prefer G-woman? G-person?”

Bobbi clenched her fist. She’d barely felt skin press against skin and her fist was already flying through the air, already hitting, like fly against a windscreen. Not out of control, simply acting on a combination of desire and instinct. The mercenary yelped, clutching at his nose as blood started to pour.

“Oi!” he cried indignantly. “What’d you do that for?”

“Fun,” Bobbi replied, because ‘seething rage’ and ‘years of research and months of labour wasted’ didn’t feel like snappy enough answers. It was surprisingly cleansing, though. She left him feeling smug, listening to him fume behind her, and walked straight back through the bar and out onto the street like no-one could touch her, leaving him to make his explanations alone.

-

We’ve decided to team up.  

After that, Bobbi had groaned internally for a good five minutes as she’d listened to Hartley give them the run-down on their new team dynamics. In all honesty, Bobbi had never really been one for working in a team. As part of one? Sure. But she was not exactly the most social, emotionally available person. Not many in this job were though, she supposed, and that was a comfort. Sometimes.

Then she saw his face. Her heart seemed to rise and drop at once. It was a curious feeling, especially since last time she’d seen him, she’d had nothing but contempt for him. This time it was like dread and excitement at once. It was uncomfortable.

He offered his hand.

“Lance Hunter. Shameless mercenary. At your service.”

So he did recognise her. With narrow eyes and a narrower smile, Bobbi shook his offered hand.

“You two know each other?” Hartley wondered.

“We’ve met,” Bobbi said cryptically. Hartley frowned. Cryptic had never worked on her.

“She was my…impromptu surgeon,” Hunter filled in. Bobbi couldn’t help a flicker of confusion cross her expression, and she caught him smile a little at her slip before clarifying: “She helped me achieve these rugged good looks.”

He gestured to his face and Hartley snorted.

“This is gonna be fun,” she muttered, and strode out of the room wondering what exactly she’d gotten herself into.

Bobbi glared. Hunter glared. Idaho, another new recruit, lingered awkwardly in the background for a while and then slipped out after Hartley, unsure where all this glaring was going to end up.

“Go to hell,” Bobbi hissed.

“Ladies first.”

Hunter pulled open the door and bowed. Keeping her chin high and her jaw clenched, Bobbi followed Hartley and Idaho out, but she was acutely aware of her heart in her throat, and she could feel Hunter’s smug smile behind her like eyes on the back of her neck.

-

The impromptu team lasted longer than any of them had foreseen, and over time, the seething rage between Bobbi and Hunter transformed into begrudging respect - and after that, eventually, not even begrudging. Hunter may have been a mercenary, but he risked a little more when innocent lives were at stake, and when agents died in the line of duty, he laid off the GI jokes until most of the pain had passed. And Bobbi – she was an Agent serving forces higher than herself, but not blindly. She asked questions, she demanded justification. She did all the things Hunter had started to believe servants of those mysterious alphabet agencies never did, and even though sometimes she made the hard call anyway, it affected her like he hadn’t thought it would affect the coldhearted human weapons he had once imagined.

Still, neither of them really liked to acknowledge the ease of the partnership into which they had fallen. Most of the time, they didn’t even notice it themselves. They jostled and fought each other out of habit and stubbornness, and somehow, in secret, cursing each other out became banter – almost a ritual – almost a good luck charm.

-

“Break a leg!” Hunter farewelled cheerfully.

Bobbi gave him a smile as tight as her dress, and adjusted her microphone one last time. The music began, and she strutted out onto stage, glistening in blue and silver and an obscene amount of glitter.

Hunter looked down at the spy they had just taken down; as tall and lanky as Bobbi, she was obviously going to be a struggle to shift, but there wasn’t much time, he guessed, before somebody else would come along. He examined the space he had, and the angle at which she was lying, and wondered if maybe he was going to be the one to break something instead.

-

Plates and glasses smashed, chairs screeched and flew, and bodies tumbled over, under and against each other in a tangle of fists, knees, batons. Hunter dove at their last opponent’s knees, knocking him sideways, and then slammed a tray over his head, knocking him out. Knees still on the unconscious man’s chest, Hunter looked back over his shoulder at Bobbi, who was standing with her fists wrapped around her batons, ready to strike.

“Getting slow on me?” Hunter teased as Bobbi evaluated their situation and dropped out of her warrior stance, kneeling by another fallen enemy operative to check their pulse.

“Get bent,” she snapped.

“If you insist.”

Hunter grinned, until a baton spun narrowly past his head. He ducked, and yelped indignantly, and Bobbi smiled to herself.

-

Six hours, she reminded herself. You have to spend six hours with him. In … that.

Bobbi tried not to screw up her nose as she studied Hunter’s car. A jeep, with a thin layer of fast food wrappers visible through the windshield across the dash.

“Come on, then, we haven’t got all day.”

He pulled the door open, glaring at her, daring her to say something and in her stubbornness, she refused. She waited for him to brush an old French fry off her seat and sat down, trying not to squirm. She’d been in considerably more gross siuations of course, but when more was at stake it was easier to put aside the smell of stale chips and…old mayonnaise?

“Such a gentleman.”

Hunter snorted, and Bobbi pressed her lips together.

Six hours, she reminded herself.

Old mayo. Off milk?

As Hunter pulled onto the main road, Bobbi eyed a container in the drink holder of her passenger-side door. A fast-food cup. She didn’t want to look in there. She really didn’t want to – Nope, she wasn’t going to do that. Six hours. Six hours.

“Is there something…growing, in this?”

Hunter slapped his hands on the steering wheel and rolled his eyes.

“Two minutes! Two minutes? That’s a record, even for you.”

“Well excuse me for being reluctant to spend a whole day in this health-hazard of a crap-pile –“

“- grateful we don’t have to walk the whole bloody way –“

“-such a thing as trains!” “Oh because urine would be better??” “Urine that doesn’t have mold in it, sure!”

“You wanna walk then? Hm? Go on then –“

Hunter leaned over and flicked the door handle, then pushed the door open across her. Bobbi grabbed the seat and the door handle tightly, pulling it closed as he tried to keep it open, struggling to lean so far over and keep them on the road at the same time.

Police sirens started up behind them and Hunter swore and sat upright.

“Shit,” he hissed.

“Shit!” Bobbi covered her mouth. She couldn’t help laughing. It was inappropriate timing but she couldn’t help it, as Hunter had no choice now but to speed up. They couldn’t afford to be caught, sighted, registered, nothing. “Why do they even have police out here anyway? Who are we gonna kill? Corn?”

“Got any ideas about how to lose them?” Hunter concentrated twice as hard on the road, as cornfields whipped past and the road became disturbingly potholed and unsteady.

“Drive into the corn?” Bobbi suggested.

It was a joke, but it was the only thing they could really do, unless they intended to drive until the cops got bored, which was unlikely to happen at this point.

Bobbi cursed and reached out for balance as Hunter slammed the brakes on and sent the car spinning. He caught control of it soon enough though and began accelerating, backwards, at the cornfield.

“Hunter!” Bobbi shrieked. “You’re gonna kill us both!”

“That’s the plan,” Hunter muttered, biting his lip in determination. Bobbi couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. She had no choice but to roll with it either way, to wait until the car stopped and then jump out quick-smart. She grabbed the bag full of their cash and IDs and abandoned everything else, disappearing into the crops.

Once they were far enough away, they stopped to catch their breath. Hunter glanced back over their shoulder.

“Zombie apocalypse,” he said, chest heaving, as if that were some sort of explanation. Bobbi frowned.

“What?”

“In a zombie apocalypse, you’ve gotta drive backwards over the zombies so they don’t wreck your engine.”

“…Right.”

Hunter nodded, and continued his march into the corn with his head held high and his weapon at the ready, as if it was a forest on a foreign tundra with enemy agents waiting in the shadows and not – well, a cornfield. Bobbi rolled her eyes.

“Alright, Spooky Mulder,” she muttered. “Lead the way.”

-

(Almost.)

Because as it turned out, Hunter had been right to stay on edge. For all the farce of driving the car ass-first into acres of corn, there was very real danger about. They were on mission, but not for a formal agency, which was why they couldn’t afford to be caught – by the cops, or by anyone else. It was also why they couldn’t rely on backup, even when they realised they’d walked into a trap.

Literally.

A steel clamp snapped shut on Hunter’s leg and he dropped his rifle immediately, crying out in pain. Bobbi raised her weapon in case there was anyone around, but it was just Hunter, struggling to stand in such a way that wouldn’t strain the wound. After a quick scout, Bobbi knelt down and assessed the injury. His muscle was bitten through; all but shredded. He’d be lucky to stand after this, let alone run – and that was even if she could figure out how to get him out.

“The bloody cops,” Hunter spat, his eyes prickling with tears of agony. Already it felt like the trap might as well have just bitten his leg clean off. He didn’t want to look, which was fortunate, since at least one of them had to keep an eye on their surroundings. “I should’ve seen something coming.”

“And if we’d stopped,” Bobbi pointed out, “the ‘cops’ would have turned out to be fake and would have drugged or killed us. You made a good call.”

Hunter swore as Bobbi touched his bloody flesh. It didn’t feel like a good call, in any way, and it was starting to feel less and less like one by the second as in the distance, the corn began to move, parting and folding in a telltale indication of rapidly approaching people.

“Bobbi!” Hunter insisted, gritting his teeth against the pain as he tried to pull Bobbi back to standing. “Someone’s coming, you’ve got to go!”

“No, I’m not leaving you!”

“You have to! We don’t know who this is or what they’ve got with them, and I can’t fight for shit right now. Run, and maybe they’ll let you get far enough away if they’ve got me.”

“Hunter.” She took his hand, the one he was using to try and shoo her away. Why? The significance of the words she’d blurted out before – I’m not leaving you – suddenly bit into her consciousness, and slowly sank in as Hunter renewed his desperate pushes.

“I can’t help you!” he insisted. “And they’ll hear us if we keep this up. Please, Bob! Go! I’ll get out if I can and find you at the next place. Someone’s gotta tell Hartley and Idaho we found them. It’s noble and all but you know we can’t afford this.”

“I don’t want to,” Bobbi insisted, her eyes filling with tears that she couldn’t control. “I –“

“Bobbi.” Hunter’s voice was quiet and trembling, dangerously close to losing its courage. “Don’t say anything either of us are going to regret right now.”

Bobbi pressed her lips closed and nodded. She tightened her fist around the strap of their bag of cash and ID, and checked her grip on the pistol she’d been sporting. She had precious few seconds left before she had to run, and she didn’t want to waste them. After every injury and menace, every curse, every piece of bad luck she’d wished upon this man over the years, she couldn’t leave him without one last thing. But what?

Hunter smiled, and with their joined hands, pushed her away. She moved away uncertainly. Maybe she could fight them after all? It was very close quarters. How many were there? Could she take them?

No, Hunter had made their decision and he was right. For Hartley and Idaho’s sake, if nothing else, they couldn’t risk it.

“Hey, Bob,” Hunter murmured, before she could get too far away. She glanced back, hopeful, almost wishing that he would ask her to stay. But he didn’t.

“Don’t die out there, alright?” he said. “We didn’t come this far to have you walk into one of these bloody things too.”

She nodded, a promise.

“You too,” she said. And then she ran.

-

The stakes were high, and Bobbi spent the next few hours on high alert. She walked for miles until she found a payphone by the side of the road, called Hartley and Idaho to tell them the news, and then set herself in the nearest no-questions-asked motel she could find. She contemplated having a shower, but a lack of questions about a mysterious lone woman and a large suspicious bag was, as per usual, accompanied by an equal or greater lack of hygienic or remotely pleasant facilities. No matter, it just made it easier to get back to the task at hand: rescuing Hunter.

Bobbi set out her assets on her bed. Both their IDs, which they couldn’t use anywhere overtly legal. Someone carding them for alcohol or sharps might not report them but a police station? An airport? Definitely out. So she couldn’t report Hunter missing. Hartley and Idaho were out of the country, and with such an unpredictable, under-researched opponent in play, Bobbi couldn’t be sure what Hunter may or may not face in the time it would take them to get here. She’d have to go it alone. And that would take smarts.

Fortunately, Bobbi had those in spades. And a large bag of cash, which she used to purchase some garden-variety house and garden products that corroded, exploded, or burned themselves and everything around them when mixed together. She also bought herself some thick oak dowel – not the greatest weapon, but a relatively inconspicuous one still sure to help her knock people’s knees out. By the following night, she was ready. Armed with her assembled weaponry, Bobbi went to the farmhouse at the cornfields and wreaked a level of hell only a one-woman show bringing down a thirty-man operation could.

She didn’t bring them down exactly - more like sent them scurrying away like rats – but for now it was good enough for her. It would give them an insight into the operation and, more importantly, it left her way open for Hunter.

Bobbi found him in the basement. He was tied to a chair and bloodied up, but nothing too creative had occurred. They’d even made a half-assed job of wrapping his leg – albeit if it was only to stop him losing consciousness. When Bobbi approached, Hunter moved at last, coughing and spluttering and gasping for air.

“Bobbi?” he wondered, peering up at her through tired and swollen eyes.

“Hunter!” Bobbi fell to her knees in front of him, working quickly at his ties. A knot in her stomach seemed to undo itself as the ropes fell away from him.

“Where are Hartley and Idaho?”

“On the plane. They’re landing in six hours.”

“What – you came here by yourself?”

“I had to.”

“Why?”

Bobbi blanked. Hunter’s face, though battered, was open and earnest. Desperate, aching for an answer. Could she give it to him? Would he understand simple terms of loyalty and camaraderie, the fact that they were fellow soldiers; brothers in arms? Possibly. But was that really the reason? Because it had never really felt like brothers-in-arms between them – and increasingly, recently, it had felt very distinctly like something else altogether.

Don’t say anything we’ll regret, he’d said. He must have felt it too.

Bobbi swallowed. Hard.

“Because I – I miss your stupid mushrooms. And your stupid face. And I don’t want to be stuck in this hellhole forever alone and I don’t wanna tell Hartley you died coz she’d kill me. Alright?”

It wasn’t exactly untrue, but it wasn’t as true as it felt when she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his shoulder. He had on that familiar leather jacket – probably the same one as the day they’d first met, by some miracle. It was filthy, probably torn. And his face smudged blood and grime onto hers. But it was the truest, most open, most mutually understood feeling. It was like someone had physically opened her heart, and let something out that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding onto.

“Am I to understand,” Hunter checked, “you busted up 20 guys because you missed my mushroom soup?”

Bobbi squeezed her hold until he squeaked.

“I’m a highly trained Agent and spy, mercenary,” she growled. “I’ll rescue who I like.”

Hunter lifted a hand and rested it against her back. They sat for a long moment like that, in mutually relieved silence. And then Hunter spoke.

“You like me.”

[parchment-and-petrichor]

January Sneak Peek Weekends #3

Today I've got a handful of fantasies following a suspiciously similar trope... and a couple more to improve upon it.

Having the ability should have been fun. In another world, a child who could become invisible might play pranks on her parents, might sneak around with friends, might go ride the beasts in the dead of night. In another world, the Ability might have brought freedom and joy. But I was not born in another world, I was born in the Upland, where the Ability was used as a weapon of war.

Author: Mary G. Thompson

Publisher: Clarion Books (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt)

Published: January 3, 2017

For People Who Liked: Scorpio Races, Half Bad, The Grisha, X-Men, The Incredibles

Target Audience: Fantasy readers, fans of characters with superpowers and/or magical abilities.

If I were an agent/acquisitions editor, would I select this for publication based on the opening chapter?:

If this were the first fantasy manuscript involving a protagonist oppressed or hunted for having a magical power that set her apart from everyone else, I might give it a tentative pass. Or at least put it in a pile for later considerations.  Which might be what I'll say for any book on today's list. But being a regular reader of fantasy, and YA fantasy at that, I know the tropes. I've seen these tropes over and over again.

I get it. We're still chasing after the next Harry Potter. It's been 20 years. Let's put the magical Chosen One/weapon convention to rest. I want a new fantasy novel to grab me and do something new with the genre!

The publishers want this one to follow in the footsteps of Half Bad. I can tell. It's got that exact same vibe as Sally Green's series. Except Half Bad is also not doing anything unique with the genre, nor does it have a particularly great reputation in terms of diverse representation. Granted, Flicker and Mist already hints at better writing than Half Bad, so maybe, just maybe the same ol' conventions might be taken in a new direction.

I offered my hand to the fire. Sparks leapt from the hearth and settled onto my fingers, heat drawn to heat, and glittered like molten gems against my skin.

Author: Elly Blake

Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

Published: January 10, 2017

For People Who Liked: Half Bad, Frozen, Lord of the Rings, Red Queen, Throne of Glass, X-Men, The Incredibles, Flicker and Mist.

Target Audience: High fantasy readers. The same people who might pick up Flicker and Mist; they can take them home as a package deal.

Would I select this for publication based on the opening chapter?:

I picked this one up immediately after Flicker and Mist. If these two crossed my desk at the same time, and this one happened to be lower on the pile, I'd put it down immediately. This isn't to say that this book is terrible and shouldn't be read. But rather, agents aren't wanting to see exactly the same plot in every submission they see.

If I were an agent, my personal focus would be on fantasy and sci-fi, and as I said, I'd be looking for that unique hook that sets a manuscript apart from other novels in the canon. The trouble is, there's that trope again and I'm not going to wait around to see if this is putting a twist on the convention. This is especially why I chose to do these sneak peeks. Opening chapters aren't going to give you nearly enough to tell you whether the story's going to be amazing or not. But that's exactly what most agents are using to pass judgement on whether it's good enough for publication.

That being said, there's nothing particularly new going on with Frost Blood either. Though it does help that it can easily slot into an already existing subgenre alongside so many other stories in a similar vein. And that's exactly why it was published in the first place...

I remember last night perfectly. I know what we ate for dinner. I know my little brother didn't do his homework. I know Dad drove me to my ballet lessons, then waited for me in the Starbucks across the street.

Author: Merrie Destefano

Publisher: Entangled Publishing

Published: January 3, 2017

For People Who Liked: The One Memory of Flora Banks, The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer

Target Audience: Readers who like gritty mysteries, amnesia plots, or paranormal/urban fantasies.

Would I select this for publication based on the opening chapter?:

No. The entire first page is word for word the back cover blurb. Which I know isn't the author's fault, but as far as novel openers go, as an agent, I've already read the blurb, and would be looking for something in the manuscript sample to tell me something I don't already know about the novel. So often, I find myself 50 pages into a novel, turn to the back cover and go "oh, that's what this novel's about?" and it's a feeling I thoroughly enjoy, because it means the author's keeping me guessing. That's not what's happening here and it's just very lazy on the publisher's part. My interest just isn't piqued and it isn't helped by the juvenile writing style.

Also, you can't tell from anything in the marketing of this book, but she's got hints of possibly having some special magical power and I'm already bored.

If you want something a little more original and engaging, try:

The numbers on my phone stare back at me. Thirty more minutes of target practice before I can start my homework. I take a breath and run the back of my hand across my forehead. It's still damp with sweat from my run and the hour of Krav Maga with Mom.

Author: Kristen Orlando

Publisher: Swoon Reads (Macmillan)

Published: January 10, 2017

For People Who Liked: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Catch Me if You Can, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, James Bond, The Bourne Identity, A Series of Unfortunate Events

Target Audience: Readers who like spy or undercover plots

Would I select this for publication based on the opening chapter?:

I will admit, I had a lot of fun reading the prologue of this novel, which is shocking, because despite what a prologue is supposed to do, it's rarely the most engaging part of a novel. It feels exactly how I felt watching Netflix's new A Series of Unfortunate Events. It's surprising, it's action packed, it's doing something you don't ordinarily see in YA. I'm excited by the My Parents are Spies! angle.

This is the exact type of book as an agent, I'd request the full manuscript. The opening narrative is strong and pulls you in. With this in mind, if I were to then receive that full manuscript, I'd have to give it a pass because it quickly devolves into a silly high school plot where the author tries too hard to make cool teen lingo happen. But I was excited for that hot second and I encourage people to give it a shot just in case it is the fun spy plot it says it is.

I'm not a bad person. At least that's what I tell myself over and over as I wend my way through the marketplace, past the vendors selling spiced meats and bright fabric, incense and rare birds.

Author: Breeana Shields

Publisher: RandomHouse

Published: January 10, 2017

For People Who Liked: Wrath and the Dawn, Rebel of the Sands, Six of Crows, The Raven Cycle, The Sineater's Daughter

Target Audience: People who like more lyrical prose, fans of the deadly kiss trope, fantasy lovers.

Would I select this for publication based on the opening chapter?:

After about five hours of poring over books, I was more than a little weary of reading the same plot over and over again. And so it was with such delight and relief that I stumbled across this beauty. This one was unquestionably the easiest yes I could give to any of the 11 books I flicked through on this particular day. It's got this vivid, beautifully written, colourful world building that feels very much like Alwyn Hamilton or Leigh Bardugo's handiwork.

I've harped on this entire post about taking the usual and making it unusual and this is the perfect example of how an author can do that successfully. For some reason completely unknown to me, I love the doomed lovers convention where if they kiss, one of them will die. It's one of those things that is likely done to death in a million horribly written ways, and yet I've read a handful of really well-written twists on the theme. This being one of them. I'd love to see this one get more attention as time goes on!

[harpera63-blog]

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[k63christopher-blog]

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[stopkingobama]

In this country, UN-style 'tolerance' laws are a national nightmare

Photo: Pexels (CC0)

Everyone should be concerned over the growing discrimination, persecution and vilification of Christians which is occurring in Australia.  Not only is the government failing to protect the human rights of Christians, but often it seems to be enabling discrimination and persecution through legislation and comments made by parliamentarians.

I believe we desperately need religious freedom provisions in the Australian Constitution to ensure that Christians are free to live out their beliefs safely and legally. The denial of religious freedom has always been a hallmark of totalitarian regimes; such oppression is becoming common in many countries now under the guise of anti discrimination laws. This has no place in a free country.

Allow me to document this controversial assertion.

As predicted, the debate regarding the redefinition of marriage has, as some predicted, unleashed a tide of hatred and bigotry. However, overwhelmingly, this has been squarely aimed at Christians. Listed below are numerous occasions where Christians have been the target of unwarranted discrimination, persecution and vilification. Hardly any of those people who vilified, harassed and assaulted Christians experienced any detrimental legal or social consequences for it.  Most of them remain in positions of authority and influence.

The opposition leader, Mr Bill Shorten, described traditional marriage supporters (most of whom are Christians) as ‘haters coming out from under a rock’.

Two commercial television stations and SBS banned an advertisement backing traditional marriage.

A printer in Victoria, McPherson’s, refused to print a book arguing against same sex marriage.

A meeting at the Mercure Hotel of four Christian groups had to be cancelled due to physical threats by gay activists.

Greens MP Adam Bandt described three politicians opposing gay marriage as ‘bigots scraping the bottom of the barrel’.

Bernard Keane, political editor of Crikey, Called Lyle Shelton, of Australian Christian Lobby, ‘a nauseating piece of filth’, ‘a creep’, ‘a fact free hypocrite’ who was ‘obsessed with sex”.

Fairfax columnist John Birmingham described opponents of same sex marriage as ‘weirdos’, ‘a sweating pig circus of morons and bigots’, wanting to ‘mangulate their hate boners in the marriage equality plebiscite’.

A group of protesters vandalized Senator Cori Bernardi’s office and even menaced his childrens’ school.

UNSW lecturer in art and design, Simon Hunt, alias ‘Pauline Pantsdown’ organized a hate campaign to sabotage a Christian event at a Baptist Church in East Melbourne registering 54000 fake attendees using obscene, blasphemous and insulting language.

Professor Kuruvilla George, after signing a letter opposing same sex marriage, backed by significant evidence, ended up resigning from the equal opportunity board amid controversy over his views

Coopers Brewery was the subject of a boycott because it supported the Bible society and its beer was being consumed in an advertisement depicting Liberal MPs Tim Wilson and Andrew Hastie respectfully debating same sex marriage.

Margaret Court was vilified and harassed for expressing opposition to same sex marriage.  Violent protesters disrupted a Liberal party function because she was a guest, spraying attendees with glitter and confetti. Even Margaret Court’s nephew, who runs the Margaret Court Academy, and the children attending the academy, have been targeted for abuse.

The Tasmanian anti discrimination Commission ruled that the Catholic church had a case to answer for distributing a booklet presenting the church’s teaching on same sex marriage.

The Tasmanian Anti-Discrimination Commission is now investigating Pastor Campbell Markham for his comments on same sex marriage.

Christian Charities were permitted to keep their board members’ names secret because of harassment of board members by same sex marriage advocates.

The abuse has intensified exponentially in recent weeks.

A mother who produced a video exposing what was taught to her children in ’Safe Schools’ but remaining anonymous for fear of violence, was ‘outed’ by Jo Hirst, who wrote material used in the program.

Darebin Council in Melbourne has stated they will allow ‘yes’ campaigners to use council facilities for free but barred ‘no’ campaigners. Council plans to issue a warning to churches not to campaign against same sex marriage.

A man was banned from Facebook for encouraging voters to register so they could vote ‘no’.

Australia Post has been pressured by gay activists and postal unions to block letters supporting the ‘no’ campaign.

The headquarters of the Australian Christian Lobby was egged

A group from the advertising industry has pledged not to work on the ‘No’ campaign

The airing of the first advertisement for the ‘no’ campaign resulted in false accusations that the advertisement was untrue, falsely being denounced as ‘rubbish’ by opposition leader Bill Shorten, and ‘patently ridiculous’ by Education Minister Simon Birmingham, both of whom, as defenders of the program, must have known what was in it. The women in the advertisement were ridiculed on ‘the Project’

They were threatened with death and Dr Pansy Lai was subjected to a petition demanding that her registration be reviewed

One of the mothers, Heidi McIvor, has had threats of ‘burning her church’

The women have been subject to media attacks, social media harassment, and having their names posted all over Facebook, and Dr Lai was threatened with violent protests at her surgery.

Packages containing white powder were sent to the Australian Christian Lobby

A seminar In Brisbane on the Safe School issue had to be cancelled because ‘yes’ protestors blocked the entrance to the building. Though the media falsely reported it as a ‘clash between rival groups’ the only violence was perpetrated by the ‘yes’ protesters, one of whom falsely alleged that cars had driven into the protesters

Activist Benjamin Law mused online about raping anti SSM parliamentarians.

Vote No campaigners at the University of Sydney were shouted down, violently attacked and had their tables overturned and the food they were offering thrown at them

A small business owner, Madlin Sims, sacked a contractor for posting ‘It’s OK to vote no’ on her Facebook page

A skywriter who was contracted to write ‘vote no’ in skywriting has been targeted for abuse, and the crowdfunding raised to pay for it has been withheld unless the person commissioning it reveals their name and address, despite not being legally required to do so.

The debate regarding the ‘safe schools’ program is another debate which has resulted in the vilification of Christians, and many false accusations against them which also go legally unchallenged.

ACT Christian Democratic Party members had their anti ‘safe schools’ posters torn up, burnt and defaced with ‘All bigots must die’.  One of the perpetrators, Michael Dencio, posted his action on social media but does not seem to have been charged.

Christians objecting to the program have been blamed for an increase in suicides among gay youth.

A 15 year old Christian girl had to change schools after being ostracized, and hearing other students say ‘I hate Christians’.  Her family is struggling financially with the cost.

Tracie Aylmer, of The Australian Independent Media Network described Sophie York, of the Marriage Alliance as a ‘crackpot who wants to put those being bullied at risk’.

Christians have also been targeted by government legislation restricting their freedom of speech and conscience in the regard to abortion.

Victorian law denies Christian health professionals the right to refuse to participate in performing or arranging abortions. Dr Mark Hobart was investigated by the Medical Board of Victoria for refusing a sex selection abortion at 19 weeks gestation.

Tasmania has enacted similar legislation.

Christians protesting against abortion face restrictions and exclusion zones in both Tasmania and Victoria.

Christians appear to be virtually the only group subject to such infringements of their civil liberties.

The media has been involved in portraying Christians in a negative way, inconsistent with the facts. The tactic of systematically portraying a group in a falsely negative light, was a tactic used by Adolf Hitler, who used both documentary and films to incite hatred against Jews.

The ABC falsely portrayed evangelical Christians as the most likely domestic violence perpetrators, though in fact they are the least likely. None of the other, higher incidence groups were targeted.

SBS are currently screening “The Handmaid’s Tale” which depicts a Christian run dystopia which bears no resemblance to real Christian belief or practice.

The ABC on its Q&A program pitted Fred Nile against five panelists who were hostile to his position, along with a generally hostile audience.

When MP George Christensen quoted from the work of Garry Dowsett, there was a storm of media protest about George Christensen, but no outrage at the clear advocacy of pedophilia in Mr Dowsett’s writings.

Christians have also been subject to physical violence.

Sutherland Shire Council deputy mayor has been approached on four occasions by Christians who have been physically assaulted and abused on trains by Arabic speaking gangs for wearing a cross.  Worse still, one of the victims reported uniformed transport officers watching the attack without taking action.

The headquarters of the Australian Christian Lobby was car bombed by a gay activist.

Sadly Australian governments and Anti discrimination Boards and Commissions have been among the worst offenders in discriminating against and persecuting Christians. This has occurred firstly by the enactment of laws that deny Christians the religious freedom enshrined in the UN declaration of Human Rights, and secondly by acting contrary to laws that should support religious freedom. Anti discrimination laws appear to confer on some people rights not available to others. Christians appear to be uniquely vulnerable, both in lacking robust legal rights to freedom of conscience, freedom of expression and freedom of religion, and, where the laws appear to grant some of these rights, those charged with enforcing the law often refuse to do so.

The NSW Anti-Discrimination Board accepted multiple complaints from one serial activist against Bernard Gaynor, despite the fact that Bernard Gaynor is a resident of QLD, where the NSW Anti-Discrimination Board does not have jurisdiction.  The complaints have been uncritically accepted, including complaints that are clearly vexatious. The Board did not comply with its own rules for the investigation of complaints, and ignored the vicious harassment, threats and vilification perpetrated by the complainant.  In a process, which is in itself a punishment, Mr Gaynor, who has not been found guilty of anything, has incurred $200,000 defending himself.

When Garry Burns, the complainant, offered Mr Gaynor’s address to the Islamic Council with an accusation that he was inciting hatred against Muslims, it resulted in Mr Gaynor having to move for the safety of his family, but the NSW and QLD police refused to take any action despite a clear breach of the law.

QLD police arrested street preachers on the Gold Coast despite the preachers having all the required permits. This occurred on more than one occasion

A similar event occurred in Nambour

The QLD Government has instructed principals to take action against Christian students who talk about Jesus or give out Christmas cards

A South Australian council is considering banning groups which ‘are not gay and lesbian friendly’ from receiving Council grants

The Victorian Government attempted to restrict the ability of religious organizations to employ only people who share their beliefs.

The Australian Defense Forces drummed Bernard Gaynor out of the army for objecting to uniformed defense personnel marching in a political march, which has a record of insulting and vilifying Christians and which is characterized by public obscenity- the Gay MardiGras.

If LGBT people were treated as Christians are the outrage would be deafening. Christians are persecuted in over 100 countries of the world. They are discriminated against, robbed, fined, sacked, driven from their homes, imprisoned, raped, tortured and murdered. A Christian dies for their faith every 6 minutes. It is sad to know that our brothers and sisters are suffering so much, and to see our own country, knowing this, embrace the same hatred.  Before deciding that Christians do not deserve protection because they challenge some of the ‘sacred cows’ of our culture, it would be wise to remember that no country which persecutes Christians for any length of time remains a good place for anyone else to live.

Every country which has legalized gay marriage has seen persecution and marginalization of Christians increase dramatically. Without robust religious freedom protections, this will certainly happen in Australia if gay marriage is legalized. Please act to protect freedom of speech, religion and conscience, without which no freedom is possible.

Dr Margaret Colwell is a doctor practicing in Sydney. This article by Dr Margaret Colwell was originally published on MercatorNet.com under a Creative Commons Licence. If you enjoyed this article, visit MercatorNet.com for more.

https://www.mercatornet.com/conjugality/view/documenting-the-tide-of-bigotry-and-hatred/20446

[americanlibertypac]

In this country, UN-style 'tolerance' laws are a national nightmare

Photo: Pexels (CC0)

Everyone should be concerned over the growing discrimination, persecution and vilification of Christians which is occurring in Australia.  Not only is the government failing to protect the human rights of Christians, but often it seems to be enabling discrimination and persecution through legislation and comments made by parliamentarians.

I believe we desperately need religious freedom provisions in the Australian Constitution to ensure that Christians are free to live out their beliefs safely and legally. The denial of religious freedom has always been a hallmark of totalitarian regimes; such oppression is becoming common in many countries now under the guise of anti discrimination laws. This has no place in a free country.

Allow me to document this controversial assertion.

As predicted, the debate regarding the redefinition of marriage has, as some predicted, unleashed a tide of hatred and bigotry. However, overwhelmingly, this has been squarely aimed at Christians. Listed below are numerous occasions where Christians have been the target of unwarranted discrimination, persecution and vilification. Hardly any of those people who vilified, harassed and assaulted Christians experienced any detrimental legal or social consequences for it.  Most of them remain in positions of authority and influence.

The opposition leader, Mr Bill Shorten, described traditional marriage supporters (most of whom are Christians) as ‘haters coming out from under a rock’.

Two commercial television stations and SBS banned an advertisement backing traditional marriage.

A printer in Victoria, McPherson’s, refused to print a book arguing against same sex marriage.

A meeting at the Mercure Hotel of four Christian groups had to be cancelled due to physical threats by gay activists.

Greens MP Adam Bandt described three politicians opposing gay marriage as ‘bigots scraping the bottom of the barrel’.

Bernard Keane, political editor of Crikey, Called Lyle Shelton, of Australian Christian Lobby, ‘a nauseating piece of filth’, ‘a creep’, ‘a fact free hypocrite’ who was ‘obsessed with sex”.

Fairfax columnist John Birmingham described opponents of same sex marriage as ‘weirdos’, ‘a sweating pig circus of morons and bigots’, wanting to ‘mangulate their hate boners in the marriage equality plebiscite’.

A group of protesters vandalized Senator Cori Bernardi’s office and even menaced his childrens’ school.

UNSW lecturer in art and design, Simon Hunt, alias ‘Pauline Pantsdown’ organized a hate campaign to sabotage a Christian event at a Baptist Church in East Melbourne registering 54000 fake attendees using obscene, blasphemous and insulting language.

Professor Kuruvilla George, after signing a letter opposing same sex marriage, backed by significant evidence, ended up resigning from the equal opportunity board amid controversy over his views

Coopers Brewery was the subject of a boycott because it supported the Bible society and its beer was being consumed in an advertisement depicting Liberal MPs Tim Wilson and Andrew Hastie respectfully debating same sex marriage.

Margaret Court was vilified and harassed for expressing opposition to same sex marriage.  Violent protesters disrupted a Liberal party function because she was a guest, spraying attendees with glitter and confetti. Even Margaret Court’s nephew, who runs the Margaret Court Academy, and the children attending the academy, have been targeted for abuse.

The Tasmanian anti discrimination Commission ruled that the Catholic church had a case to answer for distributing a booklet presenting the church’s teaching on same sex marriage.

The Tasmanian Anti-Discrimination Commission is now investigating Pastor Campbell Markham for his comments on same sex marriage.

Christian Charities were permitted to keep their board members’ names secret because of harassment of board members by same sex marriage advocates.

The abuse has intensified exponentially in recent weeks.

A mother who produced a video exposing what was taught to her children in ’Safe Schools’ but remaining anonymous for fear of violence, was ‘outed’ by Jo Hirst, who wrote material used in the program.

Darebin Council in Melbourne has stated they will allow ‘yes’ campaigners to use council facilities for free but barred ‘no’ campaigners. Council plans to issue a warning to churches not to campaign against same sex marriage.

A man was banned from Facebook for encouraging voters to register so they could vote ‘no’.

Australia Post has been pressured by gay activists and postal unions to block letters supporting the ‘no’ campaign.

The headquarters of the Australian Christian Lobby was egged

A group from the advertising industry has pledged not to work on the ‘No’ campaign

The airing of the first advertisement for the ‘no’ campaign resulted in false accusations that the advertisement was untrue, falsely being denounced as ‘rubbish’ by opposition leader Bill Shorten, and ‘patently ridiculous’ by Education Minister Simon Birmingham, both of whom, as defenders of the program, must have known what was in it. The women in the advertisement were ridiculed on ‘the Project’

They were threatened with death and Dr Pansy Lai was subjected to a petition demanding that her registration be reviewed

One of the mothers, Heidi McIvor, has had threats of ‘burning her church’

The women have been subject to media attacks, social media harassment, and having their names posted all over Facebook, and Dr Lai was threatened with violent protests at her surgery.

Packages containing white powder were sent to the Australian Christian Lobby

A seminar In Brisbane on the Safe School issue had to be cancelled because ‘yes’ protestors blocked the entrance to the building. Though the media falsely reported it as a ‘clash between rival groups’ the only violence was perpetrated by the ‘yes’ protesters, one of whom falsely alleged that cars had driven into the protesters

Activist Benjamin Law mused online about raping anti SSM parliamentarians.

Vote No campaigners at the University of Sydney were shouted down, violently attacked and had their tables overturned and the food they were offering thrown at them

A small business owner, Madlin Sims, sacked a contractor for posting ‘It’s OK to vote no’ on her Facebook page

A skywriter who was contracted to write ‘vote no’ in skywriting has been targeted for abuse, and the crowdfunding raised to pay for it has been withheld unless the person commissioning it reveals their name and address, despite not being legally required to do so.

The debate regarding the ‘safe schools’ program is another debate which has resulted in the vilification of Christians, and many false accusations against them which also go legally unchallenged.

ACT Christian Democratic Party members had their anti ‘safe schools’ posters torn up, burnt and defaced with ‘All bigots must die’.  One of the perpetrators, Michael Dencio, posted his action on social media but does not seem to have been charged.

Christians objecting to the program have been blamed for an increase in suicides among gay youth.

A 15 year old Christian girl had to change schools after being ostracized, and hearing other students say ‘I hate Christians’.  Her family is struggling financially with the cost.

Tracie Aylmer, of The Australian Independent Media Network described Sophie York, of the Marriage Alliance as a ‘crackpot who wants to put those being bullied at risk’.

Christians have also been targeted by government legislation restricting their freedom of speech and conscience in the regard to abortion.

Victorian law denies Christian health professionals the right to refuse to participate in performing or arranging abortions. Dr Mark Hobart was investigated by the Medical Board of Victoria for refusing a sex selection abortion at 19 weeks gestation.

Tasmania has enacted similar legislation.

Christians protesting against abortion face restrictions and exclusion zones in both Tasmania and Victoria.

Christians appear to be virtually the only group subject to such infringements of their civil liberties.

The media has been involved in portraying Christians in a negative way, inconsistent with the facts. The tactic of systematically portraying a group in a falsely negative light, was a tactic used by Adolf Hitler, who used both documentary and films to incite hatred against Jews.

The ABC falsely portrayed evangelical Christians as the most likely domestic violence perpetrators, though in fact they are the least likely. None of the other, higher incidence groups were targeted.

SBS are currently screening “The Handmaid’s Tale” which depicts a Christian run dystopia which bears no resemblance to real Christian belief or practice.

The ABC on its Q&A program pitted Fred Nile against five panelists who were hostile to his position, along with a generally hostile audience.

When MP George Christensen quoted from the work of Garry Dowsett, there was a storm of media protest about George Christensen, but no outrage at the clear advocacy of pedophilia in Mr Dowsett’s writings.

Christians have also been subject to physical violence.

Sutherland Shire Council deputy mayor has been approached on four occasions by Christians who have been physically assaulted and abused on trains by Arabic speaking gangs for wearing a cross.  Worse still, one of the victims reported uniformed transport officers watching the attack without taking action.

The headquarters of the Australian Christian Lobby was car bombed by a gay activist.

Sadly Australian governments and Anti discrimination Boards and Commissions have been among the worst offenders in discriminating against and persecuting Christians. This has occurred firstly by the enactment of laws that deny Christians the religious freedom enshrined in the UN declaration of Human Rights, and secondly by acting contrary to laws that should support religious freedom. Anti discrimination laws appear to confer on some people rights not available to others. Christians appear to be uniquely vulnerable, both in lacking robust legal rights to freedom of conscience, freedom of expression and freedom of religion, and, where the laws appear to grant some of these rights, those charged with enforcing the law often refuse to do so.

The NSW Anti-Discrimination Board accepted multiple complaints from one serial activist against Bernard Gaynor, despite the fact that Bernard Gaynor is a resident of QLD, where the NSW Anti-Discrimination Board does not have jurisdiction.  The complaints have been uncritically accepted, including complaints that are clearly vexatious. The Board did not comply with its own rules for the investigation of complaints, and ignored the vicious harassment, threats and vilification perpetrated by the complainant.  In a process, which is in itself a punishment, Mr Gaynor, who has not been found guilty of anything, has incurred $200,000 defending himself.

When Garry Burns, the complainant, offered Mr Gaynor’s address to the Islamic Council with an accusation that he was inciting hatred against Muslims, it resulted in Mr Gaynor having to move for the safety of his family, but the NSW and QLD police refused to take any action despite a clear breach of the law.

QLD police arrested street preachers on the Gold Coast despite the preachers having all the required permits. This occurred on more than one occasion

A similar event occurred in Nambour

The QLD Government has instructed principals to take action against Christian students who talk about Jesus or give out Christmas cards

A South Australian council is considering banning groups which ‘are not gay and lesbian friendly’ from receiving Council grants

The Victorian Government attempted to restrict the ability of religious organizations to employ only people who share their beliefs.

The Australian Defense Forces drummed Bernard Gaynor out of the army for objecting to uniformed defense personnel marching in a political march, which has a record of insulting and vilifying Christians and which is characterized by public obscenity- the Gay MardiGras.

If LGBT people were treated as Christians are the outrage would be deafening. Christians are persecuted in over 100 countries of the world. They are discriminated against, robbed, fined, sacked, driven from their homes, imprisoned, raped, tortured and murdered. A Christian dies for their faith every 6 minutes. It is sad to know that our brothers and sisters are suffering so much, and to see our own country, knowing this, embrace the same hatred.  Before deciding that Christians do not deserve protection because they challenge some of the ‘sacred cows’ of our culture, it would be wise to remember that no country which persecutes Christians for any length of time remains a good place for anyone else to live.

Every country which has legalized gay marriage has seen persecution and marginalization of Christians increase dramatically. Without robust religious freedom protections, this will certainly happen in Australia if gay marriage is legalized. Please act to protect freedom of speech, religion and conscience, without which no freedom is possible.

Dr Margaret Colwell is a doctor practicing in Sydney. This article by Dr Margaret Colwell was originally published on MercatorNet.com under a Creative Commons Licence. If you enjoyed this article, visit MercatorNet.com for more.

https://www.mercatornet.com/conjugality/view/documenting-the-tide-of-bigotry-and-hatred/20446

[samiam03x]

3 Unusual Tactics For Making Your Testimonials More Persuasive

I bet you’ve seen this sort of advice before…

When using a testimonial, you should always:

List the customer’s first and last name

Include their photo

Avoid unbelievable, over-the-top praise

Those are all fine tips to follow, but they’re really just starting points.

Optimizing your social proof requires just as much strategy and testing as improving a headline, hero image or call-to-action button.

Because if you just stick to blindly following ‘best practices,’ you could be missing out on a huge opportunity to squeeze more conversions out of your website or landing page. Here’s why:

Social proof affects different audiences in different ways. The complexity of your offer, the demographics of your visitors and a host of other factors all influence how persuasive your testimonials will be.

And that means you may want to try optimizing them in ways that seem counterintuitive at first.

Or even just plain strange.

I’ll get into more detail about this in a moment. But first, let’s make sure we’re on the same page about what typically makes for a convincing and credible testimonial.

Don’t use testimonials unless you’ve seen these tips…

Plenty of articles have already been written offering great advice for using testimonials. And those tips can generally be summed up as:

Include a photo and other details Providing the customer’s first and last name, location or any other relevant details makes testimonials more realistic. But an even bigger factor is including a (real) photo of the testimonial-giver. There’s plenty of research to back this up.

Use testimonials from people your customers can relate to According to implicit egotism theory, we generally trust people who are either like us or who we aspire to be like. And that means strong testimonials are often from folks who reflect how your prospects see themselves.

Use testimonials from people with authority (if possible) The most powerful testimonials come from people your audience sees as an expert or otherwise having authority. In essence, you’re ‘borrowing’ the positive feelings people have toward these individuals (this is called the Halo Effect) when you get their endorsement.

Reinforce a specific benefit Emphasis on specific. Vague testimonials that say things like “great experience” or “tremendous value” won’t connect with anyone. And it might even hurt your conversion rate. Instead, testimonials should be used strategically as ‘proof’ to support specific claims you’re making on your pages.

OR

Quash a serious objection Research by MECLABS shows that placing testimonials near sources of anxiety (such as the ‘Add to Cart’ button) can ease objections and improve conversions. Bottom line: don’t just randomly sprinkle testimonials throughout your website. First, consider the role they’re playing on the page.

These tips make sense, right?

And if you’ve been in the conversion optimization game for any length of time, I suspect you’re already familiar with most of them.

Now, let’s dive into 3 lesser-known techniques for making your testimonials more credible, engaging and persuasive.

1) Try ‘long-form’ testimonials

Far too many articles give out generic advice like:

“Always keep your testimonials very short.”

Well, no. Not always.

Short, specific quotes from customers may work fine in certain situations. But sometimes a big, juicy testimonial can provide the exact dose of social proof that your page needs. Why?

For the same reasons that long copy can sometimes be more persuasive than short copy. Long-form sales messages often work great when your product is complicated, your audience has loads of objections or the price-tag is high.

As veteran ad man Jay Conrad Levinson puts it:

“Don’t be afraid to use lengthy copy. Of all the things people dislike about marketing, ‘lack of information’ comes in second, after ‘feeling deceived.’”

The trick is to ensure your long-form copy — or long-form testimonial — is interesting and relevant to your audience. Here’s an example:

Long-form testimonials make up the majority of content on Noah Kagan’s sales page for his How To Make A $1,000 A Month Business course. And some of them run well over 500 words!

Now, these testimonials work like sales copy in a number of different ways. But I want to point out one specific technique that makes them so effective: storytelling.

Several testimonials on the page tell raw, human stories about a problem the person was up against and how they discovered a life-changing solution thanks to Kagan’s course.

Take a look at this example:

Dave’s story kicks off with an emotional (and relatable) problem.

He then goes on to tell a story about how the course helped him, eventually building to the ‘climax’ detailing how his life changed afterwards:

In fact, some of the most effective long-form testimonials start with an emotional problem.

Here’s a prime example from the Sweat Block homepage, which was optimized by the team at Copy Hackers. This testimonial follows the tried-and-true problem-agitate-solve copywriting formula:

Now, a customer probably isn’t going to just hand you over a problem-agitate-solve testimonial by fluke. You may need to give them some guidance first.

So ask specific questions when requesting a testimonial. Things like:

What made you seek out our product/service?

What was the exact problem you needed to solve? How did it impact your life?

How did our product/service solve this problem? How did it improve your [business/social life etc.]?

But even if you don’t take a problem-focused approach, the key to using effective long-form testimonials is to make sure they tell a gripping story.

One that will resonate with your target audience in a powerful way.

2) Show your warts (really, it’s OK)

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying you should post a testimonial that outright bashes your company.

That’d be weird. And, well, kind of dumb.

But I am suggesting that by leaving some minor ‘warts’ in your testimonials you can convey trust and credibility — if you do it the right way.

One study found that 68% of consumers trust reviews more when they see both positive and negative scores. And a whopping 30% suspect faked reviews when they don’t see anything negative at all.

As master copywriter Bob Bly puts it, “showing your warts” can be an effective marketing technique provided you:

demonstrate why your product’s weakness isn’t important or

show how you’ve designed your product to overcome the weakness

This tactic works because arguing against your own self-interest builds credibility.

In this Unbounce article, marketer and entrepreneur Pratik Dholakiya suggests testing a landing page testimonial that tells people who your product isn’t right for. This might involve including a line like:

“This product isn’t for [so and so], it’s for [so and so].”

The beauty of this approach is that it sends the message you want happy, long-term customers; not just quicks sales for short-term gain.

Some brands have used not-so-shiny testimonials in more creative ways to reinforce a key message.

For example, Ship Your Enemies Glitter used to feature a reviews section that told an unfiltered story about their product — one testimonial even mentioned a customer’s pending divorce.

OK, this is an extreme example.

The point is that people are skeptical of both online reviews and testimonials. But by slipping in a few “warts” (in a strategic way), you can give your social proof a shot of credibility.

3) Make your testimonial the ‘hero’

Got a beauty of a testimonial?

One that’s credible, relatable and aligns perfectly with the goal of your page?

Then don’t bury it way below the fold! Instead, play that sucker up big time in the hero section for every visitor to see.

Emphasizing the right testimonial immediately sends the message to prospects that your product solves problems for people who are just like them.

I used this strategy while optimizing a key sales page for LivePlan, which is a SaaS product that helps entrepreneurs write professional business plans.

Research showed us that many prospects had niggling doubts when they hit the page. They often wondered:

“Will this software work for my specific industry?”

It was a big barrier to signing up.

So we created a landing page that targeted just a segment of LivePlan’s traffic: people who wanted to write a business plan specifically for a café.

But instead of us telling the audience “this works for café entrepreneurs like you,” we wanted to prove it to them by making a relatable testimonial the hero of the page.

So we emphasized a quick story about how café owner Brian Sung used LivePlan to write a business plan faster and with less effort. Then we A/B tested the new page.

Here are the two hero sections we tested:

The testimonial-focused variant hauled in a 72% boost in paid conversions, which translated into a 53% increase in revenue (when you consider average order value).

There were a few other variables at play here. But ultimately, I believe that this relatable testimonial proved the hypothesis that LivePlan customers needed to feel confident that the product would work for their industry before signing up.

Other companies have also seen ‘wins’ by playing up testimonials like this as well. For example, Highrise saw a 102% lift in conversions when they tested a giant image and quote from one of their customers.

But again, having the right testimonials is key here. You can’t just pick one at random.

If you know headlines focused on “saving time” convert well, playing up a testimonial about how a customer “saved money” isn’t going to cut it.

Consider your goals and strategy for the page. Then select your social proof accordingly.

Conclusion

It doesn’t matter if you’re dealing with testimonials, user-reviews or client logos — the bottom line is the same:

Social proof affects different audiences in different ways.

Following best practices is a great starting point. But to squeeze the most persuasive value out of your testimonials, you need to consider things like your audience’s level of awareness and their thought sequence as they hit your page.

Now, maybe the 3 tactics outlined here aren’t a great fit for your prospects. That’s fine.

But it is important that you make an informed, strategic decision about how you use any type of social proof.

Because just tossing testimonials randomly on a page isn’t doing your visitors — or your conversion rates — any good.

About the author: Dustin Walker is a copywriter and partner at Good Funnel — a marketing agency that does in-depth customer research to help online businesses fire up their revenue. Follow Dustin on Twitter @dustinjaywalker.

http://ift.tt/2lmBCr1 from MarketingRSS http://ift.tt/2makzwX via Youtube

[marie85marketing]

3 Unusual Tactics For Making Your Testimonials More Persuasive

I bet you’ve seen this sort of advice before…

When using a testimonial, you should always:

List the customer’s first and last name

Include their photo

Avoid unbelievable, over-the-top praise

Those are all fine tips to follow, but they’re really just starting points.

Optimizing your social proof requires just as much strategy and testing as improving a headline, hero image or call-to-action button.

Because if you just stick to blindly following ‘best practices,’ you could be missing out on a huge opportunity to squeeze more conversions out of your website or landing page. Here’s why:

Social proof affects different audiences in different ways. The complexity of your offer, the demographics of your visitors and a host of other factors all influence how persuasive your testimonials will be.

And that means you may want to try optimizing them in ways that seem counterintuitive at first.

Or even just plain strange.

I’ll get into more detail about this in a moment. But first, let’s make sure we’re on the same page about what typically makes for a convincing and credible testimonial.

Don’t use testimonials unless you’ve seen these tips…

Plenty of articles have already been written offering great advice for using testimonials. And those tips can generally be summed up as:

Include a photo and other details Providing the customer’s first and last name, location or any other relevant details makes testimonials more realistic. But an even bigger factor is including a (real) photo of the testimonial-giver. There’s plenty of research to back this up.

Use testimonials from people your customers can relate to According to implicit egotism theory, we generally trust people who are either like us or who we aspire to be like. And that means strong testimonials are often from folks who reflect how your prospects see themselves.

Use testimonials from people with authority (if possible) The most powerful testimonials come from people your audience sees as an expert or otherwise having authority. In essence, you’re ‘borrowing’ the positive feelings people have toward these individuals (this is called the Halo Effect) when you get their endorsement.

Reinforce a specific benefit Emphasis on specific. Vague testimonials that say things like “great experience” or “tremendous value” won’t connect with anyone. And it might even hurt your conversion rate. Instead, testimonials should be used strategically as ‘proof’ to support specific claims you’re making on your pages.

OR

Quash a serious objection Research by MECLABS shows that placing testimonials near sources of anxiety (such as the ‘Add to Cart’ button) can ease objections and improve conversions. Bottom line: don’t just randomly sprinkle testimonials throughout your website. First, consider the role they’re playing on the page.

These tips make sense, right?

And if you’ve been in the conversion optimization game for any length of time, I suspect you’re already familiar with most of them.

Now, let’s dive into 3 lesser-known techniques for making your testimonials more credible, engaging and persuasive.

1) Try ‘long-form’ testimonials

Far too many articles give out generic advice like:

“Always keep your testimonials very short.”

Well, no. Not always.

Short, specific quotes from customers may work fine in certain situations. But sometimes a big, juicy testimonial can provide the exact dose of social proof that your page needs. Why?

For the same reasons that long copy can sometimes be more persuasive than short copy. Long-form sales messages often work great when your product is complicated, your audience has loads of objections or the price-tag is high.

As veteran ad man Jay Conrad Levinson puts it:

“Don’t be afraid to use lengthy copy. Of all the things people dislike about marketing, ‘lack of information’ comes in second, after ‘feeling deceived.’”

The trick is to ensure your long-form copy — or long-form testimonial — is interesting and relevant to your audience. Here’s an example:

Long-form testimonials make up the majority of content on Noah Kagan’s sales page for his How To Make A $1,000 A Month Business course. And some of them run well over 500 words!

Now, these testimonials work like sales copy in a number of different ways. But I want to point out one specific technique that makes them so effective: storytelling.

Several testimonials on the page tell raw, human stories about a problem the person was up against and how they discovered a life-changing solution thanks to Kagan’s course.

Take a look at this example:

Dave’s story kicks off with an emotional (and relatable) problem.

He then goes on to tell a story about how the course helped him, eventually building to the ‘climax’ detailing how his life changed afterwards:

In fact, some of the most effective long-form testimonials start with an emotional problem.

Here’s a prime example from the Sweat Block homepage, which was optimized by the team at Copy Hackers. This testimonial follows the tried-and-true problem-agitate-solve copywriting formula:

Now, a customer probably isn’t going to just hand you over a problem-agitate-solve testimonial by fluke. You may need to give them some guidance first.

So ask specific questions when requesting a testimonial. Things like:

What made you seek out our product/service?

What was the exact problem you needed to solve? How did it impact your life?

How did our product/service solve this problem? How did it improve your [business/social life etc.]?

But even if you don’t take a problem-focused approach, the key to using effective long-form testimonials is to make sure they tell a gripping story.

One that will resonate with your target audience in a powerful way.

2) Show your warts (really, it’s OK)

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying you should post a testimonial that outright bashes your company.

That’d be weird. And, well, kind of dumb.

But I am suggesting that by leaving some minor ‘warts’ in your testimonials you can convey trust and credibility — if you do it the right way.

One study found that 68% of consumers trust reviews more when they see both positive and negative scores. And a whopping 30% suspect faked reviews when they don’t see anything negative at all.

As master copywriter Bob Bly puts it, “showing your warts” can be an effective marketing technique provided you:

demonstrate why your product’s weakness isn’t important or

show how you’ve designed your product to overcome the weakness

This tactic works because arguing against your own self-interest builds credibility.

In this Unbounce article, marketer and entrepreneur Pratik Dholakiya suggests testing a landing page testimonial that tells people who your product isn’t right for. This might involve including a line like:

“This product isn’t for [so and so], it’s for [so and so].”

The beauty of this approach is that it sends the message you want happy, long-term customers; not just quicks sales for short-term gain.

Some brands have used not-so-shiny testimonials in more creative ways to reinforce a key message.

For example, Ship Your Enemies Glitter used to feature a reviews section that told an unfiltered story about their product — one testimonial even mentioned a customer’s pending divorce.

OK, this is an extreme example.

The point is that people are skeptical of both online reviews and testimonials. But by slipping in a few “warts” (in a strategic way), you can give your social proof a shot of credibility.

3) Make your testimonial the ‘hero’

Got a beauty of a testimonial?

One that’s credible, relatable and aligns perfectly with the goal of your page?

Then don’t bury it way below the fold! Instead, play that sucker up big time in the hero section for every visitor to see.

Emphasizing the right testimonial immediately sends the message to prospects that your product solves problems for people who are just like them.

I used this strategy while optimizing a key sales page for LivePlan, which is a SaaS product that helps entrepreneurs write professional business plans.

Research showed us that many prospects had niggling doubts when they hit the page. They often wondered:

“Will this software work for my specific industry?”

It was a big barrier to signing up.

So we created a landing page that targeted just a segment of LivePlan’s traffic: people who wanted to write a business plan specifically for a café.

But instead of us telling the audience “this works for café entrepreneurs like you,” we wanted to prove it to them by making a relatable testimonial the hero of the page.

So we emphasized a quick story about how café owner Brian Sung used LivePlan to write a business plan faster and with less effort. Then we A/B tested the new page.

Here are the two hero sections we tested:

The testimonial-focused variant hauled in a 72% boost in paid conversions, which translated into a 53% increase in revenue (when you consider average order value).

There were a few other variables at play here. But ultimately, I believe that this relatable testimonial proved the hypothesis that LivePlan customers needed to feel confident that the product would work for their industry before signing up.

Other companies have also seen ‘wins’ by playing up testimonials like this as well. For example, Highrise saw a 102% lift in conversions when they tested a giant image and quote from one of their customers.

But again, having the right testimonials is key here. You can’t just pick one at random.

If you know headlines focused on “saving time” convert well, playing up a testimonial about how a customer “saved money” isn’t going to cut it.

Consider your goals and strategy for the page. Then select your social proof accordingly.

Conclusion

It doesn’t matter if you’re dealing with testimonials, user-reviews or client logos — the bottom line is the same:

Social proof affects different audiences in different ways.

Following best practices is a great starting point. But to squeeze the most persuasive value out of your testimonials, you need to consider things like your audience’s level of awareness and their thought sequence as they hit your page.

Now, maybe the 3 tactics outlined here aren’t a great fit for your prospects. That’s fine.

But it is important that you make an informed, strategic decision about how you use any type of social proof.

Because just tossing testimonials randomly on a page isn’t doing your visitors — or your conversion rates — any good.

About the author: Dustin Walker is a copywriter and partner at Good Funnel — a marketing agency that does in-depth customer research to help online businesses fire up their revenue. Follow Dustin on Twitter @dustinjaywalker.

[ericsburden-blog]

3 Unusual Tactics For Making Your Testimonials More Persuasive

I bet you’ve seen this sort of advice before…

When using a testimonial, you should always:

List the customer’s first and last name

Include their photo

Avoid unbelievable, over-the-top praise

Those are all fine tips to follow, but they’re really just starting points.

Optimizing your social proof requires just as much strategy and testing as improving a headline, hero image or call-to-action button.

Because if you just stick to blindly following ‘best practices,’ you could be missing out on a huge opportunity to squeeze more conversions out of your website or landing page. Here’s why:

Social proof affects different audiences in different ways. The complexity of your offer, the demographics of your visitors and a host of other factors all influence how persuasive your testimonials will be.

And that means you may want to try optimizing them in ways that seem counterintuitive at first.

Or even just plain strange.

I’ll get into more detail about this in a moment. But first, let’s make sure we’re on the same page about what typically makes for a convincing and credible testimonial.

Don’t use testimonials unless you’ve seen these tips…

Plenty of articles have already been written offering great advice for using testimonials. And those tips can generally be summed up as:

Include a photo and other details Providing the customer’s first and last name, location or any other relevant details makes testimonials more realistic. But an even bigger factor is including a (real) photo of the testimonial-giver. There’s plenty of research to back this up.

Use testimonials from people your customers can relate to According to implicit egotism theory, we generally trust people who are either like us or who we aspire to be like. And that means strong testimonials are often from folks who reflect how your prospects see themselves.

Use testimonials from people with authority (if possible) The most powerful testimonials come from people your audience sees as an expert or otherwise having authority. In essence, you’re ‘borrowing’ the positive feelings people have toward these individuals (this is called the Halo Effect) when you get their endorsement.

Reinforce a specific benefit Emphasis on specific. Vague testimonials that say things like “great experience” or “tremendous value” won’t connect with anyone. And it might even hurt your conversion rate. Instead, testimonials should be used strategically as ‘proof’ to support specific claims you’re making on your pages.

OR

Quash a serious objection Research by MECLABS shows that placing testimonials near sources of anxiety (such as the ‘Add to Cart’ button) can ease objections and improve conversions. Bottom line: don’t just randomly sprinkle testimonials throughout your website. First, consider the role they’re playing on the page.

These tips make sense, right?

And if you’ve been in the conversion optimization game for any length of time, I suspect you’re already familiar with most of them.

Now, let’s dive into 3 lesser-known techniques for making your testimonials more credible, engaging and persuasive.

1) Try ‘long-form’ testimonials

Far too many articles give out generic advice like:

“Always keep your testimonials very short.”

Well, no. Not always.

Short, specific quotes from customers may work fine in certain situations. But sometimes a big, juicy testimonial can provide the exact dose of social proof that your page needs. Why?

For the same reasons that long copy can sometimes be more persuasive than short copy. Long-form sales messages often work great when your product is complicated, your audience has loads of objections or the price-tag is high.

As veteran ad man Jay Conrad Levinson puts it:

“Don’t be afraid to use lengthy copy. Of all the things people dislike about marketing, ‘lack of information’ comes in second, after ‘feeling deceived.’”

The trick is to ensure your long-form copy — or long-form testimonial — is interesting and relevant to your audience. Here’s an example:

Long-form testimonials make up the majority of content on Noah Kagan’s sales page for his How To Make A $1,000 A Month Business course. And some of them run well over 500 words!

Now, these testimonials work like sales copy in a number of different ways. But I want to point out one specific technique that makes them so effective: storytelling.

Several testimonials on the page tell raw, human stories about a problem the person was up against and how they discovered a life-changing solution thanks to Kagan’s course.

Take a look at this example:

Dave’s story kicks off with an emotional (and relatable) problem.

He then goes on to tell a story about how the course helped him, eventually building to the ‘climax’ detailing how his life changed afterwards:

In fact, some of the most effective long-form testimonials start with an emotional problem.

Here’s a prime example from the Sweat Block homepage, which was optimized by the team at Copy Hackers. This testimonial follows the tried-and-true problem-agitate-solve copywriting formula:

Now, a customer probably isn’t going to just hand you over a problem-agitate-solve testimonial by fluke. You may need to give them some guidance first.

So ask specific questions when requesting a testimonial. Things like:

What made you seek out our product/service?

What was the exact problem you needed to solve? How did it impact your life?

How did our product/service solve this problem? How did it improve your [business/social life etc.]?

But even if you don’t take a problem-focused approach, the key to using effective long-form testimonials is to make sure they tell a gripping story.

One that will resonate with your target audience in a powerful way.

2) Show your warts (really, it’s OK)

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying you should post a testimonial that outright bashes your company.

That’d be weird. And, well, kind of dumb.

But I am suggesting that by leaving some minor ‘warts’ in your testimonials you can convey trust and credibility — if you do it the right way.

One study found that 68% of consumers trust reviews more when they see both positive and negative scores. And a whopping 30% suspect faked reviews when they don’t see anything negative at all.

As master copywriter Bob Bly puts it, “showing your warts” can be an effective marketing technique provided you:

demonstrate why your product’s weakness isn’t important or

show how you’ve designed your product to overcome the weakness

This tactic works because arguing against your own self-interest builds credibility.

In this Unbounce article, marketer and entrepreneur Pratik Dholakiya suggests testing a landing page testimonial that tells people who your product isn’t right for. This might involve including a line like:

“This product isn’t for [so and so], it’s for [so and so].”

The beauty of this approach is that it sends the message you want happy, long-term customers; not just quicks sales for short-term gain.

Some brands have used not-so-shiny testimonials in more creative ways to reinforce a key message.

For example, Ship Your Enemies Glitter used to feature a reviews section that told an unfiltered story about their product — one testimonial even mentioned a customer’s pending divorce.

OK, this is an extreme example.

The point is that people are skeptical of both online reviews and testimonials. But by slipping in a few “warts” (in a strategic way), you can give your social proof a shot of credibility.

3) Make your testimonial the ‘hero’

Got a beauty of a testimonial?

One that’s credible, relatable and aligns perfectly with the goal of your page?

Then don’t bury it way below the fold! Instead, play that sucker up big time in the hero section for every visitor to see.

Emphasizing the right testimonial immediately sends the message to prospects that your product solves problems for people who are just like them.

I used this strategy while optimizing a key sales page for LivePlan, which is a SaaS product that helps entrepreneurs write professional business plans.

Research showed us that many prospects had niggling doubts when they hit the page. They often wondered:

“Will this software work for my specific industry?”

It was a big barrier to signing up.

So we created a landing page that targeted just a segment of LivePlan’s traffic: people who wanted to write a business plan specifically for a café.

But instead of us telling the audience “this works for café entrepreneurs like you,” we wanted to prove it to them by making a relatable testimonial the hero of the page.

So we emphasized a quick story about how café owner Brian Sung used LivePlan to write a business plan faster and with less effort. Then we A/B tested the new page.

Here are the two hero sections we tested:

The testimonial-focused variant hauled in a 72% boost in paid conversions, which translated into a 53% increase in revenue (when you consider average order value).

There were a few other variables at play here. But ultimately, I believe that this relatable testimonial proved the hypothesis that LivePlan customers needed to feel confident that the product would work for their industry before signing up.

Other companies have also seen ‘wins’ by playing up testimonials like this as well. For example, Highrise saw a 102% lift in conversions when they tested a giant image and quote from one of their customers.

But again, having the right testimonials is key here. You can’t just pick one at random.

If you know headlines focused on “saving time” convert well, playing up a testimonial about how a customer “saved money” isn’t going to cut it.

Consider your goals and strategy for the page. Then select your social proof accordingly.

Conclusion

It doesn’t matter if you’re dealing with testimonials, user-reviews or client logos — the bottom line is the same:

Social proof affects different audiences in different ways.

Following best practices is a great starting point. But to squeeze the most persuasive value out of your testimonials, you need to consider things like your audience’s level of awareness and their thought sequence as they hit your page.

Now, maybe the 3 tactics outlined here aren’t a great fit for your prospects. That’s fine.

But it is important that you make an informed, strategic decision about how you use any type of social proof.

Because just tossing testimonials randomly on a page isn’t doing your visitors — or your conversion rates — any good.

About the author: Dustin Walker is a copywriter and partner at Good Funnel — a marketing agency that does in-depth customer research to help online businesses fire up their revenue. Follow Dustin on Twitter @dustinjaywalker.

3 Unusual Tactics For Making Your Testimonials More Persuasive