#this is my 'worst joke that took 5+ minutes to set up' award

[tricoufamily]

they are l and light to me

[lailababar]

10 years ago I was home for the holidays and on my way from Lahore to Sheikhupura. My driver Shahzad was driving the car. We were driving fast because it late at night, the roads were empty, and we were young. A car started driving alongside us, matching our speed. We would go faster and they would catch up. And then they started flashing their lights at our car. When we did not stop the car, they tried to overtake us, and when that didn’t work, at 100 km/hr, they hit the rear of the car so that their car was wedged into ours. Then they started braking making our car slow down too. Once we were slowed, they overtook us and parked their car diagonally across ours so we could not escape. 4 men came out. It was like a scene from a bad Bollywood movie. 4 doors opening, 4 men stepping out, in my memory the time slowed down and every detail left an impression. 2 had rifles. They held them with both hands, and flanked the other two men. I recall this night perfectly because it is always playing, over and over, in my head. A loop recording from hell. One man rapped on Shahzad’s window, and when he refused to open the door they pulled out their guns and rapped again, this time with the butt of their pistols. Shahzad has told me to try to lay low on the backseat. He was in his 20s. I was 17. (When I look back on this I’m shocked that we were so young, but then again, you grow up fast when you grow up afraid). I did not have credit in my phone. I couldn’t make a phone call. I found his phone and called his brother. I didn’t know exactly where we were, I didn’t know how far from Lahore or how close to Sheikhupura. I was afraid and trying to find details in the dark. I had a blackberry and the BBM messenger was on. I messaged my cousin Sherdil on it and blissfully he replied. The sheer fear I had in this moment will never leave my body. I know myself as pre fear and post fear. I told him we had been stopped by 4 armed men. That they were talking to shahzad but it looked grim. He said he’ll send police officers out to look for us. We both knew the police would be too late, the details I had given were so vague.

I remember thinking of what I would do when the men had me. I had notions of bartering, of asking, pleasing, begging, them to not rape me in exchange for any amount of money they wanted. It’s odd how even in the worst moments of your life, you have time to imagine it being even worse. And then I heard a ‘thunk’. They had slammed shahzad into the car window with just enough force to convey their intentions. And then one of them said the sentence that haunts my every waking moment “bachi aur gari de do, tumhare se Kuch nai chahye”. Give us the girl and the car, we don’t need anything from you. They had a gun to Shahzad’s temple. And I was sitting helpless in the backseat of my car refusing to let panic set in. Refusing to show fear, never mind that I was alone. I heard Shahzad’s voice clear as day ‘nahin’ (no). The man hit him with the butt of his pistol and suddenly there were gunshots in the air.

This is the point where the panic seeped into my bones. I didn’t know what would happen next. And I hate the theory that there are infinite alternate universes and each of them have different outcomes for every scenario. I kept flirting between the present and a make believe future. Suddenly the car door opened. It took me a few seconds to realise it was Shahzad. My legs were shaking, my hands had tremors. He sat down, locked the car, and asked if I was okay. He joked about me looking afraid and I let out a nervous laugh and said no I’m not. When I looked outside there were a hundred people around our car. Some local man had had a few burglaries so he was on high alert for thieves. When he heard some commotion near his house he came out and thought his house was about to be robbed. And so he shot at us. The men who had stopped us thought it was our back up and got into their cars and sped away. And suddenly the whole neighbourhood woke up and was on the road. I had wanted to drive out of that area within seconds. Shahzad explained to me that those men could be waiting ahead to attack again so we had to sit and wait for 15 minutes. Enough time to have them get bored. To clear our path. Those 15 minutes were agony personified. It took every inch of my self control to not show fear, I’m sure I looked afraid, but I tried so hard to not show it.

And you know what my take away was back then? I’m so lucky. Lucky to have escaped. Lucky that that man thought he was being robbed. Lucky that there was no crossfire. Lucky. Lucky. Lucky. And I was partially right, I was luckier than most. Definitely luckier than the woman who needed petrol on the motor way. (This incident was on the GT road btw, so CCPO sahab can fuck off with that). But you know what, as women are options shouldn’t just be terrified or broken. I was not lucky to have had men chase down my car and try to kidnap me. I was not lucky to worry about being raped when I was 17. I was not lucky to be in a country where basic safety is not just not guaranteed but it’s considered unnecessary. I was not lucky to have known that my clothes, the fact that I was in Pajamas would be talked about more than the men who were attacking me. I was not lucky to have been scared so bad, so early. I fared better than my counterpart did yesterday, this news story could’ve been broken 10 years ago with blurred pictures of my face. It was a miracle I survived. But I was not lucky to have been in that situation. And I hate that I cannot escape that night. Not even in my sleep.

I am still afraid of that road. I’m also afraid of dark roads. Im afraid when cars tailgate me on the highway. I am afraid when I notice the same car in my rear view mirror for more than 5 minutes. I’m afraid so often that it’s just another facet of my being. This happened 10 years ago and i am still afraid. And I am not alone. So many women have near miss stories, so many of us get followed home by men, so many of us have had to drive slower or faster to shake off the awful cretins that are Pakistani men. And we are all afraid. 50% of your population lives in perpetual fear. Does that not worry you?

I don’t want men calling for death penalties or stricter laws, the laws are strict, you just don’t implement them. I want men to worry about every word that leaves their mouth. I want them to think and rethink their sentences, weigh them against their guilt. I want all men to look at themselves like I did that night. Analyse your life to see what all you did to contribute to rape culture. Do you know even today I think I might have invited that attack. I was so ashamed to show fear because I believed that I had done something, laughed while looking at their car, or had my windows down, or something, to entice them. When we march, don’t play devil’s advocate. There is no dignity in contributing further to the plight of those already marginalised. Instead play our advocate. Use your arguments to fight with your male friends when they minimise rape, when they objectify women. Talk to each other and the women in your life about how you have contributed to life being harder for us. Don’t get salty about #menaretrash, instead understand that women are afraid. We have been for our whole lives. Your discomfort is not oppression. Be better and if you have harassers and rapists in your friends group, and we all know you do, call them out, refuse to associate with them, or at the very least don’t give them awards for bravery *ahem* ALIZAFAR *ahem*. Basically try and make life just a little bit easier for women, god knows we need it.

[oh-ranpo]

more than a pretty face. (5)

Pairing: Ben Hardy x OC AN: I’m loving the reaction you guys had to the last chapter! I hope you like this one just as much. Tags list is open. Let me know what you think!   Warnings: Cursing and some suggestive material

When Charlie awoke the next morning, she felt nothing but pain. Her head was throbbing and her entire body was sore. The night before had become a blur, and she fought to remember what happened. But every time she got close, another shooting pain in her head caused her to lose it. It wasn’t until a soft groan sounded from beside her that the realization of what she had done fully hit her.

Slowly, her eyes trailed to the opposite side of the bed and landed on a mess of blond hair and the sleeping frame of the man she had sworn she wanted nothing to do with. Flashes of the two of them together and the feeling of his lips against her skin filled her head and she moaned in frustration.

How did she allow herself to do something like this? Why had she let him kiss her? The best she could come up with was to blame the alcohol.  

She looked over at the bed next to hers, but she wasn’t surprised to see that it was empty. They had left without any indication on where they were going, but she knew that the group was smart enough to put two and two together. They were all sure to know by now what had happened. The thought made Charlie even more nauseous.

She laid staring at the ceiling, afraid of moving and making this nightmare scenario a reality, for what felt like hours. More pieces of the night started coming together, and she could remember Ben comparing her to Sophia. Then, she remembered being pushed against the wall as his lips moved across her skin, and it sent chills through her, even now. However, the most vivid memory that came back to her, even though she wished she could forget, was what happened once they returned to her hotel room.

The night hadn’t been a gentle one, the two of them taking all their anger and frustrations out on one another. Charlie covered her face with her hands as she tried to block the images out of her head, but they wouldn’t stop. The worst part was that she still felt a thrill swoop through her chest at the memories. She wasn’t the most experienced, but she didn’t need a large frame of reference to know that it had been good. A little too good.  

After a while, the man next to her started to stir, and she couldn’t help but look over as he raised his head from the pillow to look around. It took him a few minutes to realize that he wasn’t in his own hotel room, and when his head turned and his eyes landed on her, she could see the same panic in his eyes that she had felt.

“What… what am I doing in here?” he asked quietly, his voice still hoarse with sleep. The sound of his morning voice sent a chill down Charlie’s spine, and she cursed her body for reacting in such a way.

“I think you’re smart enough to come up with the answer to that one on your own,” Charlie replied, sounding a little more hostile than she meant to. She was just upset. This was the last thing she had wanted to happen.

“Oh God,” Ben groaned as he glanced under the covers and saw that his clothes were gone. “Oh God!”  

Charlie had never seen anyone get out of bed so quickly before. Ben yanked the sheets off the bed to keep them wrapped around his waist as he hurried around the room to pick up his discarded suit pants and shirt.

“Believe me, I’m not happy about it either,” Charlie replied, rolling over to prop her head up in her hand as she watched him scurry around the room. “But I do believe you’re the one who made the first move.”  

Ben stopped moving, and shot a glare at her.

“Fuck off,” he hissed. He didn’t need reminding of what he had done. All the pieces were coming together too quickly.

“Mmm, I think I’ll pass.” Ben didn’t know that Charlie was only making the joke to try and ease the tension. She didn’t want to tell him that she remembered enjoying it.  

Ben rolled his eyes as he slipped back into his clothes and then headed for the door. He turned and gave Charlie one last look- possibly regret? - before opening the door and disappearing into the hallway. The quiet that now filled the room made her feel even more uneasy, so she decided to get up and get dressed before Joe came back.

Charlie grabbed some of her things and went into the bathroom to take a shower. She cringed when she caught sight of herself in the mirror, and then sighed deeply at the dark red marks that littered her collarbone and chest. She had been lucky in the fact that Ben had chosen inconspicuous places to leave his mark, but now the reminder of the night that shouldn’t have happened would be stuck with her for days.

The warm water felt like heaven on her skin, and when she climbed out, she could hear movement coming from the main room. She knew that the only person it could be was Joe, and she braced herself for the teasing that was sure to commence as soon as she showed her face. Charlie took her time getting dressed, being extra careful to make sure that none of her hickeys were showing. She didn’t want to make what was about to happen even worse.

When she stepped into the room, Joe’s head turned as he took a break from packing his suitcase. He looked a little flushed, probably from a hangover, but a smirk spread across his lips at the sight of her.

“Well, well, well. I think someone had a little more fun than anticipated last night,” Joe teased, and Charlie rolled her eyes. She decided to play it off, and went to grab her suitcase that was tucked under her bed.  

“It was nothing, Joe, really.”

Joe scoffed, and Charlie looked up at him again. He was standing with his arms crossed over his chest and giving her a knowing look. A moment of panic washed over her when she thought that maybe Ben had said something to him about it.  

“Nothing? Really? You and Ben sleep together and that’s just nothing?”

Charlie cringed at the reminder, but she nodded in response.

“You know how I feel about Ben. It was a mistake,” she replied, piling her clothes into her suitcase.

“Sure it was.” The sarcasm in his voice put her on edge. She didn’t like people telling her what she did or didn’t feel, and Joe knew that. So why was he pushing her like this?

“Don’t just take my word for it. I’m sure Ben would say the same thing,” she muttered under her breath as she moved back towards the bathroom to grab her toiletries. Joe didn’t say anything more as the two of them packed the rest of their things.

The flight was set to leave around 3:00pm, so the group went to get brunch before heading to the airport. Just as Charlie had feared, as soon as her and Joe joined everyone else in the lobby, curious eyes and smirking gazes fell on her. Ben, who was sitting in one of the chairs nearest the door, didn’t make eye contact with her.

“Well, you look better than I expected,” Rami commented, causing a sour look to cross Charlie’s face.

“Thank you so much, Rami. You’re such a gentleman.” Charlie’s words only caused him to laugh. She could tell by the way Ben was facing away from them that he had already received his fair share of criticism, and Charlie did feel a little bad. The feeling was short-lived, though as he continued to ignore her.

Throughout brunch, both Charlie and Ben remained quiet. No one else brought up what had happened the night before, and instead just talked about winning and what was to come next for the cast and crew. Charlie tried not to look down the table at him, but she couldn’t help but notice a few red marks peeking out of the top of Ben’s shirt. Another burst of memories flashed through her mind, but she quickly pushed them back.

“So, Charlie, are you going to go with us to our award shows from now on?” Gwilym asked curiously, bringing her attention back to the conversation. She lifted her head to meet Gwilym’s blue eyes across from her and she shrugged.

“I’m not sure. It’s still not really my scene.”

Gwilym’s face fell, but he nodded.

“Oh, she’s coming with us,” Joe insisted from next to her, nudging her shoulder gently. “We all know she had so much fun last night.”

If they hadn’t been in a public place, Charlie would have decked him. Instinctively, Charlie’s eyes fell on Ben and he was staring at her, the hint of a smile on the corner of his lips. It disappeared as soon as her eyes met his.

“I think it could have been better.”

There was a collective intake of breath from around the table, and Ben’s smile from before turned to a glare. His green eyes were blazing as a smirk spread across Charlie’s lips.  

Just then, the bills came, and Charlie excused herself to go to the restroom after she paid. The bathroom was a lone stall only made for one person, so she took her time in checking herself out in the mirror again. She still looked a little flushed from her hangover, and she made sure that her shirt was covering up all signs from the night before. Once she was satisfied that she still looked presentable, she went to leave, but was blocked in by a body on the other side.

“’Could have been better?’” Ben growled, and Charlie’s eyes lifted to meet his. “You and I both know that last night was bloody amazing.”

She felt her heart lurch in her chest and her breath shortened as she took in the expression on his face. He was angry again, but this time his eyes were burning with something else too; desire.

“Ben, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t remember anything,” she lied, trying to push past him. Instead, he fixed both of his hands firmly on either side of the doorframe, completely blocking her in.  

“Don’t play these games with me, Charlie. I know you remember. I know you have the same marks all over your chest that I have on mine. We were drunk, yes, but after I woke up, everything came back to me. I don’t believe for a second that the same thing didn’t happen to you.” His voice had reached a lower tone than she thought possible, and it sent goosebumps across her skin. She couldn’t get her eyes to leave his, and as much as she wanted to push past him, she was transfixed—completely rooted to the spot.

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” she lied again. There was a short moment of silence as Ben’s eyes roamed her face, and then he sighed. For a second, Charlie thought that he might back off and leave her alone. Instead, his hands dropped from the sides of the door and landed on her hips.

“Then allow me to remind you.”

Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, Ben’s lips were on hers, and he was pushing her back into the bathroom. He kicked the door shut behind them, his hand reaching back to lock it before roughly pushing her against the wall. It was a similar feeling to how things had gone the night before, and Charlie felt her entire body start to tingle at the thought.

She probably should have stopped him. They no longer had the veil of intoxication to cover them and give them an excuse for what was happening. Instead, she found herself kissing him back. She relished the feeling of his lips on her skin, and the way his hands moved across her body. It was another one of many mistakes she had made in her life, but this time, she didn’t want it to stop.

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[runawaywithalli-blog]

My Favorite Track Memories

Track has brought many ups and down and memories that I’ll cherish for a long time. While some memories were better than others, I wouldn’t trade any of them for the world. If you want to laugh or think back to your athletic days, continue reading to rewind to my favorite track memories from high school and college.

1.    Getting a concussion

Yes, you read that right! I got a concussion from a non-impact sport—how glamorous.  I’m sure you’re wondering how this event happened, so I’ll tell you the entire story.

I was lining up to race the 200 at the biggest meet of the season, besides State of course.  I was very nervous for this race because for some reason, they had put me in the slower heat.  I was upset that I wouldn’t be running with the best girls and knew that I had to run my best race despite not having the best competition.

As I was waiting for my turn to race, I began talking to my sister about how I wasn’t feeling well and that I didn’t want to run this race.  She assured me that I was probably just nervous and low on energy.  Convinced that everything was okay, I got into my blocks and waited for “on your marks, get set, go!”  I felt great during my race, until…

I crossed the finish line and faceplanted.  Yup, I am one graceful runner.  In my defense, I did pass out, and the faceplant was a result of going to lean to finish and then passing out.  The next thing I remember was opening my eyes and seeing my coach in my face asking if I was okay.  The crowd was silent, and my whole body hurt.  I managed to come to my senses and get up from the ground, receiving the pity clap. Every track runner has heard the “pity clap” before.  It’s a slow clap usually reserved for when a slow runner finishes a race.  I was mortified that it was for me this time.

Once I was pulled off the track, my teammate ran up to me and immediately asked if I was still good to run the 4x4. Despite the horrible road rash, I felt okay and decided to finish out the meet.  Not my brightest idea.  The night after the meet, my head killed me and I couldn’t bear to leave the lights on. I ended up with a mild concussion that sat me out for a week.  Let this be a lesson that concussions are possible in any sport, even the non-impact ones.

2.     Becoming a state champion

Back when I started to run track in 7thgrade, I made a goal to become a State Champion. I didn’t care what event it was in, I just wanted it to happen.  My senior year of high school, it finally happened.  I started running the 4x4 in sophomore year and made my first appearance and State that year.  We had competed well at State each year and beat our school record at each State meet, but our times excelled my senior year.  Halfway through the season, we competed against another top team in the state and that’s when we knew we could actually win at State.  Our rival school had the top 400 runner in Division 3 so they were tough to beat.  After being ahead of them after the second and third lap of the relay, their anchor came back strong. However, ours was stronger and we ended up winning that night. We were so excited and that’s when we knew that if we continued to run well, we could become State Champions.

At the State Meet we had won the preliminary round and were seeded first going into finals.  I remember how nervous we were sitting in the waiting area before finals the next day—we were all silent.  I remember my coach coming into the tent to tell us that our rival’s top runner had dropped out with a stress fracture.  A huge sense of relief rushed through me and I instantly felt more confident.

We went out onto the track and ran our hearts out.  We set a new school record (again) and finished 5 seconds ahead of the second place team. I’ll never forget the feeling of finally reaching a goal that I had set since 7thgrade.

3.     An engagement at Nationals

One of my teammates had always joked about how awesome it would be to get engaged at the NCAA National Meet.  To be honest, most of the girls on the team have dreamed about this scenario.  Picture this:  they’ll get off the podium after becoming an All-American and find the love of their life down on one knee asking them to marry them.  It’s a track girl’s dream come true!

This proposal didn’t happen quite like the scenario above, but it was still very magical.  My teammate, Mal, unfortunately did not advance to finals in the 400 hurdles like she was supposed to.  After a fall on the homestretch, she wasn’t able to make up the time to run a qualifying time for the final that was scheduled for the next day.  We were all sad for her, since this was her last race.  There were tears in her eyes all day.

At the end of the day, our coach came up to us and said that we needed to find Mal because she had won a sportsmanship award and she was going to be presented with it once the final race of the day was over. We were all confused knowing that there had never been any awards on the first day of the meet.  However, we obeyed and went to go find Mal.

Still confused, we watched as Mal was called on the field to receive her “award”.  Once she stepped onto the field, I looked at another teammate and instantly knew what was about to happen.  Needless to say, we were freaking out!  Mal’s mom was also standing next to us and was shocked that we weren’t in on the plan. She has thought that our coach would have told us.

The next few minutes were a blur.  Mal’s boyfriend, Wes, had been hiding out all day at the meet trying to not run into Mal.  He said after the proposal that he almost ruined it after nearly running into her before her race.  Anyway, the proposal was one of the cutest things I have seen.  Wes was hiding on the field under a tent and surprised Mal when she was called out onto the field to receive her “award”.  Mal was so surprised and began to cry immediately. Before getting on one knee, he said some romantic words, which I definitely forgot because I was so caught up in the moment.  But like I said earlier, it was the cutest proposal I’ve seen.

Mal’s sad day had turned into one of the best days of her life! She of course said “yes” and would now get to marry her best friend.  Wes told us that the proposal took months to plan.  He first contacted our coach to see if proposing at the meet was even a possibility.  Our coach then helped him get into contact with the NCAA Committee to help organize the plan.  Emails were sent back and forth and calls were made up until the big day, but his hard work paid off!  We were so happy for Mal!

4.     Disqualifying every relay

So this memory definitely isn’t a happy one, but it’s something I’ll remember forever.  During my sophomore season of college, I messed up every hand off.  And when I say that I messed then up, I mean I really messed them up.  I dropped batons, ran out of the exchange zone, you name it.  Each one of my mistakes resulted in my team being disqualified and not scoring any points.

Perhaps my worst mistake was dropping the baton during the 4x200 at Drake Relays.  At this meet, the 4x200 is a fun race and since it is usually not competed at every meet, it was important for us to run well.  We needed to run well in order to have the ability to compete in it the following year. Pretty much all we had to do in this race is make it all the way around the track and finish.  Well, I ended up dropping the baton and of course we didn’t finish the race.  I completely blew it and now we don’t have the ability to run the 4x200 at Drake again unless a miracle happens.

Like I said, this isn’t a very happy memory for me.  I spent a lot of time crying after each race and ignored my coaches after each mistake.  Sometimes you win some, sometimes you lose some.  We’re all human and mistakes are unfortunately inevitable.  Since then, I’ve learned to trust my practice and be confident in my races.  I haven’t dropped a baton since (fingers crossed)!

[youngandhungryent]

Megan Thee Stallion Talks Beyoncé, Tory Lanez, New Music & More In ‘Variety’ Interview

Source: Bernard Smalls / @PhotosByBeanz

After being silent for about a month due to certain circumstances, Megan Thee Stallion is finally opening up about what is going on in her world.

Despite allegedly being shot in both feet by Tory Lanez, which led to his July 12 arrest, Megan Thee Stallion is still poised to have herself a great damn year. So far, she was able to have one best socially distanced performances at this year’s BET Awards and also took home the award for Best Female Hip-Hop Artist. Her “Savage” remix featuring Beyoncé landed her first number one record on the Billboard charts, and she is receiving praise for her role as a judge on HBO Max’s Legendary.

Megan Thee Stallion isn’t letting the Tory Lanez situation or cruel jokes that followed stop her from securing bags. Speaking with Variety for its Young Hollywood issue, the leader of the Hot Girl movement spoke on a bevy of topics including meeting Beyoncè, the shooting incident, and of course, when can we expect new music in the form of her highly-anticipated debut album.

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Unbreakable

The Hot Girl on the cover of @variety

A post shared by Hot Girl Meg (@theestallion) on Aug 5, 2020 at 7:34am PDT

When touching on the New Year’s Eve night, where she finally met Queen Bey, Thee Stallion revealed it was like the two “were family” and hit it off immediately.

“In the first five minutes of the conversation, I felt like I’ve been knowing her all my life. She treated me like family, and now I feel like I am family. We talk all the time.”

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Happy 2020

@beyonce

A post shared by Hot Girl Meg (@theestallion) on Jan 1, 2020 at 9:59am PST

When touching on the Tory Lanez incident and all of the rumors that immediately followed, revealing that it did bother her, she is not the type to dwell on things and kept it moving.

 “I’m not the type of person who can stay down for a long time. I don’t like to be sad or keep myself in a dark place because I know it could be the worst thing happening, but the pain and the bad things don’t last for long.”

Case in point, Megan just revealed her new ambassador for Revlon, and the Hotties are extremely happy.

Megan also spoke on the support she received from other artists such as Beyoncé, Rihanna, 21 Savage, and Chance The Rapper following the news of the traumatic incident.

Beyoncé sends a flower composition to Megan Thee Stallion:

“Queen, Sending You All My Love. God Bless, Beyonce” pic.twitter.com/u7j58xGs6k

— Thee Stallion Room (@StallionRoom) July 29, 2020

https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

Finally, what’s up with that new album? Megan also touched on that promising that her highly-anticipated debut album is still coming this summer and revealing there is another alter-ego that she says is “the leader of all of them, the boss.” Thee Stallion is also said she got a song about the Black Lives Matter movement in the chamber that she is set to unleash on the world as well.

Oh, and before we go, we can’t forget her new single with Cardi B, “WAP” which is set to drop at the stroke of midnight, and based on the recent artwork for the song, we expect to it be very N A S T Y.

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Make sure y’all getting y’alls vinyls

WAP OUT AT MIDNIGHT

@iamcardib

A post shared by Hot Girl Meg (@theestallion) on Aug 6, 2020 at 9:08am PDT

We can’t wait to hear it.

We’re just happy to see Megan back in good spirits. You definitely can’t keep the Hot Girl down.

—

Photo: Bernard Smalls / @PhotosByBeanz

source https://hiphopwired.com/895180/megan-thee-stallion-beyonce-variety-interview/

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[restlessmaknae]

Paradox [pt.7]

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

Word count: 1925

Genre: angst, drama, a bit of fluff

Pairing: Lee Donghyuck (Haechan); Yu Dayoung (OC)

Setting: non AU

Warning: mentions of character death, suicide, hints of depression

Chapter warning: -

They were so young, so talented yet so desperate.

Paradox of us (The paradox of you&me)

 People say that we were a wrong pair from the start. We were never meant to be together, it was never written in the stars. We met anyway and we fell in love. That’s when I realised what loss really was. That’s when I learned what love was.

Although coming from different companies, experiencing different training methods and being completely different, I think our paradox was one of a kind. It’s my favourite so far; the paradox of us, the paradox of you&me.

 Dear Donghyuck,

There were times when I believed it would work out. It turned out that I was wrong. I was only chasing a fantasy out of my reach. Life is not a dream, after all. I had to learn the hard way.

I wanted it to be as easy as the start. Without telling silly fibs, without hiding behind masks and without constantly being terrified. However, as trust exists, so does fear. Fear of the future, fear of failure, fear of the unknown. There are so many types of fear and you were only one of them. My greatest fear.

How easy it was in the beginning, right? Joking around without being afraid that we might hurt each other’s feelings. Yet, when one starts to care, insouciance is not a definition anymore. We love, we receive love, we hurt and we get hurt. It’s all part of the system, it’s all how it works. It was just a matter of time until we discovered it for ourselves. After that, there was no turning back. We were trapped in the prison that was called ‘love’.

Our relationship was the stern winter longing for the bright spring, never actually taking the warmth into consideration that will eventually make it disappear. As long as we could play with fire, as long as we didn’t fade away with the burning ashes, we were alright. We got burnt so many times, I don’t even know how many times but the hours we spent together with talking, gazing at each other or just lying beside one another definitely paid off. I wouldn’t regret anything.

The first few months were the so-called good times. We knew nothing about what was waiting for us. It was my mistake, I know. I never let you see how I was shaking in fear every time we parted our ways because I was afraid that we would get caught. But that wasn’t what really teared us apart. It was me, my own stubbornness and my own stupid body that made things turn out the way they did.

Believe me, I wish I could change but there’s no way that I could do so. The doctor says that I can’t do this anymore, I would only make it worse. Trapped in the cage of expectations with the weight of the pressure on my shoulder, I feel like I’m constantly being twisted. What is right and what is not? For who should I make sacrifice? What is my duty and what is the purpose of life? Is that the same thing?

Being confused in your own feelings and terrified at your own thoughts is the worst feeling in the world. You can’t be mad at someone else, the enemy is within you…

Remember how you always said that I would make it? I believed you because I wanted to believe that it would actually happen. I wanted it to be true but until I met you, I couldn’t afford to cherish the thought. It was a mere illusion for me, a dream that I couldn’t reach. It was the air that my lungs sought after; the medicine that I was ready to be given and the drug that kept me on toes, motivating me to keep going, pushing me to my limits. Pushing me until I fell.

In the end, I only have regrets regarding my debut. I shouldn’t have been so stupid, I should have just stepped on my dreams and walk towards another goal of mine. I was too adamant and that turned out to be my greatest weakness.

What I don’t regret is the things that we’ve done together. When we were together, our happiness doubled. When we were together, our sadness lessened. I know it sounds silly since it’s an equation that is far from even logical. But it’s the equation of love, so it doesn’t need explanation.

The hardest part was still yet to come. We couldn’t be prepared for what was following. The days got undeniably harder and so did the war that I wanted to win. It seems that I was an easy opponent and gave up easily. People usually think that if you commit suicide, it was the easy way for you. I have to tell you that it wasn’t. I’m not saying that I was brave and I really should have done it but you can’t imagine how many times I’ve changed my mind. I was constantly thinking about my family, the company, my dream and you. It wasn’t easy at all.

The thought first crossed my mind when Dr. Lee said that I should give up on my dream to become an idol. My body wouldn’t be able to handle it. You know that I’ve said that it was because of all the stress and pressure that was taking hold of me due to the upcoming debut of the Tender Thorns. Yet, I wanted to believe that I can do it.

That’s why I made the deal with the company.

To tell you the truth, I don’t know what it will feel like. Falling, flying with the wind and being free… But I know what I’ll be thinking of. Because amidst all the darkness and grief, you were always there. My beaming light. I’ll be thinking of that light. I’ll be thinking of you.

 And after that… well, I don’t know what will happen. You will probably blame yourself, saying that it was your mistake but let me tell you that it wasn’t. If you hadn’t been there, I would have done it even earlier. So, please, accept my decision and do me a favour.

When I’m not going to be there, please, be the one who smiles. The one who brings laughter and the one who gives hope for others. Be as radiant as you were and continue to be the beaming light for others. Last but not least, never be afraid to love again. And be loved.

I love you, Donghyuck. I should have said it earlier.

 Love,

Dayoungie

 With the letter in his hands, reading her words for the hundredth time, Donghyuck couldn’t help but shed a tear. He felt lonely again and the whole situation made him remember how much he really missed her. He blamed it on the wound that her loss caused which still couldn’t fully recover. It wasn’t as aching as in the beginning but it still hurt. Every single time he read her letter, it was less and less heart-wrenching but the hollowness hadn’t faded yet.

“Donghyuck, come on! We’re coming up next!” Youngho hollered gleefully and opened the dressing’s room door. Poor boy almost had a heart attack when his band member showed up in the room, grinning widely at his scaredy-cat friend.

“Why are you so scared?”

“I was just…” he was hesitating whether to admit that he was reading Dayoung’s letter or say an innocent, little lie. In the end, he decided to tell the truth. “I’ve just finished reading her letter when you came in,” he confessed sheepishly, looking down at the paper in front of him.

He didn’t need to say whose letter it was, Youngho knew it perfectly. In fact, he was the first who got to know about Dayoung’s last words since he was there when the doctor gave it to Donghyuck. He said that they had found it in the girl’s hand when they were operating her. His name was written on the back, so after they had clarified that he was the so-called Donghyuck, he could finally seize it.

At first, he wasn’t even able to read until the end, he bawled in tears after 2 paragraphs. The more he read, the worse he felt. It was tearing him apart, knowing that she had planned her suicide beforehand and he couldn’t figure out that she was up to such a terrifying move.

Yet, he wanted to do her the favour that she had asked and it meant that he couldn’t blame himself. It was one hell of a ride, to say the least, but he managed to move on and start living again. The fans noticed the change in his bubbly behaviour but he had to keep it as a secret due to Dayoung’s and his contract. On top of that, it was about his private life and although he loved his fans like family, he wouldn’t like to share the burden with them. It could have destroyed him even more.

“Oh, I see,” Youngho nodded and awkwardly ruffled his hair. “Do you need a moment to recollect your thoughts and−“

“No, I’m fine. Let’s go and rock this stage!” he immediately cut him off, giving him a thumbs-up. The leader smiled gently and slung his arm around Donghyuck’s shoulder.

Although he was nervous as hell, the current NCT sub-unit’s stage with Youngho – aka Johnny -, Yuta, Ten, Mark, Hansol, Winwin and Kun – turned out to be pretty successful and when they took their seats in the audience, some of their sunbaenims congratulated on their energetic and jaw-dropping performance. Donghyuck boosted a proud grin but he knew that the most exciting part was still yet to come.

They were nominated for the ‘Best Dance Performance Male Group’ and ‘Best Music Video’ awards along other bands like BTS, EXO, GOT7 and Monsta X and it would be an understatement to say that they were shocked when they won the latter. Donghyuck literally froze when he heard their name, questioning whether he had gone totally crazy or he had a problem with his hearing.

Nonetheless, they walked onto the stage and started their winning speech. First, it was Johnny who gave one since he was the leader of the sub-unit and the member who had trained the most, then, it was the international members’ turn - Winwin, Kun, Ten and Yuta. Mark thought of the international fans and said thank you in English, too, while Donghyuck didn’t prepare anything special, he said what was already arranged with the boys.

“I would like to dedicate this award to a very special person whom we had lost this year. I met her exactly a year ago and if she was here today, I’m sure she would do her best to make everyone happy. Please, in memory of Yu Dayoung, join me and observe one minute of silence for her! Thank you!” he bowed respectfully, his eyes scanning the reaction of the other idols.

The stadium stayed totally silent for a moment and then, one particular band stood up and the others emulated their action one by one. Soon, the whole audience got to their feet and no word was exchanged for a minute.

Donghyuck – who was doing his best to cover up his gratitude – looked up at the ceiling, wondering whether Dayoung would be able to see this.

I love you, too, Dayoung. No matter where you are, you will always be my beaming light.

[multimonk]

Project M.O.N.K, Audio logs of one DR.Vee(Super duper background for Monk story)

Under the cut due to length!

Day 1, Orientation. “So day one... What is there to say? The on-site doctor/therapist says I should keep these audio logs for my own wellbeing, while locked away in this compound... I see no harm I suppose, gives me a break from work.”

-Low sigh-

“The facilities are alright to start with, with more equipment promised if specimens and experiments on said specimens give promising results. Whoever is paying for this better understand all my ‘scientist mumbo jumbo’ on my reports, unlike the meatheads they replaced half my staff with. If their intention is to spy on my work to make sure I keep working hard, they are not being very subtle.”

-

Day 10, Preparations. “We’ve finally set up everything we need. The chemicals are working as expected and the first few samples of what we’re working towards have started to grow. It’s not exactly what I’d call a fetus, but it’s a start... We have to make sure all the clashing DNA ‘sticks together’ as one of the morons put it.”

“Side note, order MUCH more coffee and painkillers in the next shipment.”

-

Day 58, First failure. “Well, I didn’t expect the first few months to go as smoothly as they did without SOME setbacks. Half of the specimens died, and the remaining half... Well, they show promise, but their genetic structure is somewhat weaker. They want tough skin and some other, dare I say, impossible features... So, that wont do.”

The good doctor has been kind enough to listen to my worries so I wont stress myself out by repeating them here, but... He did tell me to talk about my children. It seems to give me some strength. I do miss little Jess and Nate... I hope they are eating right. Knowing mom, probably not.” -Chuckle-

-

Day 72, Success? “I will avoid false optimism, but more and more samples are surviving. Some even formed a limb or two. We may have a real living creature within two years at this rate!”

“Putting that aside, some of the meatheads aren’t that bad now that they’ve forgotten about their mission to ‘guard me’. Aki, Henry and Neni are actually pretty nice people... Makes living in a damn cube in the middle of a jungle bearable at least.”

-Groaning-

“Why can’t secret bases ever be on a beach, or some other nice location?”

-

Day 100, Party. “I refused, initially. Wasting time to celebrate with whiskey and swing music every 100 days, who does that in a scientific research facility? Bbuuuuuut I will admit, once I got to the swing of things(Pun not entirely intended), it was nice to let loose and just have some fun. I might have drunk a bit too much though...”

-Light snoring-

-

Day 198, SUCCESS! “REAL success! We have our first real babies! Granted half of them have died and that’s taken a toll on many of the people in my team. I TOLD them not to name the blasted monsters. Getting attached to something that only wears a human face is not a good idea and if I might add, highly unprofessional.”

-Loud sigh-

“Alright... I don’t really record these as often as I did in the beginning, but looks like I’ll have even less time soon. If we can get even one live... Thing, we can start testing to see if they can be trained, imprinted or... Well, this is HIGHLY optimistic, but I like to think we could teach them during the 5 years it ‘should’ take for them to mature.”

“Optimism. Baad baaaad optimism.”

-

Day 200 “HUNGOVER. That is all.”

-

Day 300, Sparta “That joke has been made to death by someone who saw a stupid, unrealistic movie once. If I get one more email with that video...” “I am not allowed to talk about too much detail in the audio logs, but I will say this to keep it in mind. The specimens with more unsteady structure seem to survive better than those with the big, bulky ones our employer wants. I-”

-You got mail-

-Loud blaring of a remix of “This is Sparta”-

“Kill. Me.”

-

Day 487, Finally! “My intuition was right! We managed to make a few specimens survive outside their containment tanks with alterations to... Well, anyway. The staff insisted on naming them Don and Monk. Take a damn guess which one that dumbass Rico named? Monk, right. Well, at least the thing will remember which project gave it life... If it lives past a week.”

-

Day 496, no title ideas “Don and Monk have taken their first steps. Don walks on two quite fine, but Monk has some form of deformation in its… His, knees and back, I need to look into it.”

-

Day 500, No party “Don died. Funnily enough, not because of any error on our part... While physically more capable, Don was unfortunately as dumb as a toddler and making no progress, so he tried to eat a knife, despite the bleeding and pain... I assume, can they feel pain?”

-Door opens suddenly-

-Male voice- “DR.Vee, come quick! The other one is sick or something!” “WHAT??”

-

Day 520, Worst is over. “Monk is still alive. Weird enough, he’s not so much deformed as he is... Strange in structure. He’s missing some ribs, but he has so many more vertebra in his neck and back than a human. ALL functional! I still can’t fathom how he lives, but... He has no trouble moving on all fours, he eats... BOY does he eat!”

“Called Jessica and Nathan today, introduced them to my team. They’re already in junior high... I missed them graduating elementary. Mother of the year award goes to... Someone else.”

-

Day 523 “Monk got his horns stuck in a wall and continued to whine loudly about it for ten minutes. We took pictures and video, for... Science.”

-

Day 565, Baby steps “I’ve put away all the training they wanted me to teach him. I need to treat him like the child he is until we can figure out how to imprint information and training directly onto the brains of the specimens. Speaking of, we have been unable to make new ones that live past the month. We keep them separate from Monk of course. He still keeps looking for Don... It’s sad to watch.”

-

Day 600 “Monk joined the party today! Well, the start of the party. We gave him some cake and let him curl up to watch us drink and be merry. He’s still too small to actually take part in anything more active than eating and wobbling around, but maybe one day.”

-

Day 1000, sorry. “God, it’s been.. Jeesh. So long since I’ve made the last one huh? Okay, so, summary. Monk is doing well. He is reaching what I would call the age of 9 or so. These things grow fast, but I have no idea how long he will actually live. Will he stop aging at the point we hoped? We’ll see.”

“Anyway.”

“I’ve been teaching him to speak and well... Unsurprisingly, ‘food’ ‘treat’, his own name and ‘hello’ in various different forms have stuck the most. I also gave him some crayons to practice his motor skills a bit... Thank god our purpose is not to create the ultimate artist, unless someone really likes stick figures.”

-

Day 1050, more progress “Another growth spurt, he’s maybe 15 ish now? He’s in a bit of pain from growing so fast, but we give him painkillers to he can sleep at least. He’s started to call me ‘mum’. It’s not what you think! I tried to get him to address me as ‘ma’am’, but apparently that is too hard for him to say.”

“Whatever.”

“It’s fine.”

“... Wonder how Jess and Nate are doing.”

-

Day 1068-1090, Annoying “CONSTANT threats for more progress or less funds, really. I know we’ve made great strides in the past two-three years, I mean, we DID create LIFE in the first year! But now the big hats upstairs have gotten used to the fast pace and want more, the greedy MOTHERFU-Mmhhh... Okay.”

-Deep breath in-

-Loud sigh-

“Monk has a good personality, very obedient when he likes you, but he has entered a rebellious phase... Teenagers right?”

“Not like I’d know, I didn’t get to see my kids turn from kids to pre-teens.”

“What employer doesn’t give vacation days?? Regardless, the sooner we duplicate the success with Monk, the better. Though...” “Well, this is just a thought, but what if instead of an army, we just create an entirely new species? Creator of an entire species of people, wouldn’t that be the same as being a god?”

“Or a really, REALLY productive mother.”

“...”

“Okay ew, horrible mental image.”

-

Day 1329, Troublesome thoughts “I can’t keep the thought out of my head. What if I just recreate Monk EXACTLY and just change the gender, and then repeat the process a few thousand times? I could... Hm.”

-

Last log, partially corrupted -Hasty footsteps and sounds of many doors being opened on the way-

“MONK!”

“Shhh darling, I know that’s your name, and I know you like telling me, but you have to be quiet now okay?”

-Whispered- “Monk.”

“Haa haa, clever.”

-Happy squeaking-

“I’ve decided to take Monk and just... Go. There’s no future for him here. They called, said my funding is officially over and they will ‘get rid’ of all evidence. That’s a fine word for killing all my specimens and Monk...! Those bastards will not touch him. I’m taking him, starting my own lab and continuing my work elsewhere! I’ll show them, I can do this. I can start an entirely new species, I can-”

-Sounds of gunfire and explosions-

“OH SHI-” -Explosion-

“Dr.Vee? That wouldn’t be my investment you’re running off with would it? “You’re...? Never mind, I don’t care. If I stop here, all my work will be for nothing! Just let me continue my work, or get out of my way!”

“I am afraid we can’t do that Dr.Vee. You see... When I said I am getting rid of all the evidence, I did of course mean you as well.”

“You-” -Shocked gasp, sound of gun being loaded-

“However, I would like that thing back. As a live specimen, it is VERY valuable for continued perfection of your work, without your failures... Namely yourself and your sentimentality.”

“Over my dead body you asshole!” “... Aight sure, why not?” -Sudden explosion, sounds of wildlife outside and the sound of scuttling bare feet on the floor-

“Monk no! You don’t know what’s out there, you won’t survive without me! MONK! MONK LISTEN TO ME, COME BACK, MO-”

-End of recording-

[bountyofbeads]

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2019/07/29/the-case-of-al-franken?utm_brand=tny&utm_source=twitter&utm_medium=social&utm_social-type=owned&mbid=social_twitter

The Case of Al Franken

A close look at the accusations against the former senator.

By Jane Mayer | Published July 22, 2019 5:00 AM ET | New Yorker Magazine | Posted July 22, 2019 | Part 2/2 |

CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS POST.

Twelve minutes after KABC-AM went on the air with the news, Franken’s office got its first press inquiry, and hundreds soon followed. Shelleby, the deputy chief of staff, recalls, “It was bedlam. No one looked into the details. There was no way to catch up.”

Franken tried to devise a response, but, he told me, he found it “impossible to explain the context of the goofing around everybody had been doing, so I just said, ‘It was a joke—it wasn’t funny, and I apologize.’ ” His statement was lambasted on social media as hopelessly inadequate. He released a longer, more self-critical apology. But, he told me, “I was in shock, and I wasn’t thinking as clearly as I should have.” He went on, “You feel very trapped. And the press was just reporting it as she said it.”

Norman Ornstein, a political scientist with the American Enterprise Institute, who is one of Franken’s oldest friends, explained that nobody felt it would be helpful to correct Tweeden���s inaccuracies, such as clarifying that the skit had been written years before she and Franken rehearsed it. “You can’t start by attacking the accuser,” he said. “You’ll look like a jerk and probably bea jerk.”

Franken thought that the only way to make his case was to appear before the Senate Ethics Committee. He called for a hearing almost immediately. The committee can subpoena witnesses and gather documentary evidence. He said, “I knew we’d get the photographer and other people on the plane” as witnesses, adding, “I felt that the truth would be out.” The committee, which is bipartisan, is often slow and lax—in 2018, it received a hundred and thirty-eight reports of rules violations, and none resulted in a disciplinary action—but it was nevertheless an established forum for weighing such allegations. And Franken, by calling for an independent investigation into his own conduct, distinguished himself from Trump and most other recent targets of sexual-misconduct charges. Chuck Schumer, the Senate Minority Leader, immediately endorsed Franken’s request, and the process was set in motion.

Franken, meanwhile, sent a personal apology to Tweeden, which she read aloud on “The View.” He wrote, “There’s no excuse, and I understand why you could feel violated by that photo. I remember that rehearsal differently, but what’s important is the impact it had on you—and you felt violated by my actions, and for that I apologize.” When Tweeden accepted the apology, and said that she wasn’t asking him to resign from office, Franken thought that the worst was behind him.

But Tweeden’s charges were soon followed by seven additional allegations of groping or unwanted kisses. A pattern of misbehavior is often crucial to proving sexual misconduct. Franken told me, “My first instinct was ‘This doesn’t make any sense. This didn’t happen.’ But then, when they started adding up, I said, ‘Well, maybe I’m doing something I’m not aware of.’ ” He added, “But this was out of the blue for me.”

His staff, too, was flabbergasted. Franken had many high-level women advisers, including a chief of staff and a communications director. They ran his campaigns, did his polling, raised funds, and directed his state office. Staffers were accustomed to keeping a close eye on Franken, but only because they feared that his sense of humor might get him into trouble. This had occasionally happened: in his first campaign, he’d barely survived a flap about a tasteless article that he had once written, for Playboy, about scientific advances in sex robots. He also made cracks—such as honking “More important than you!” as he cut in front of tourists in the Senate security line—that rubbed some people the wrong way. (In the Senate chamber, though, Franken was careful to remove jokes from his repertoire, especially during his first term; he wanted voters to see him as a statesman, not as a comedian.)

Alana Petersen, his longtime state director, told me that she had trained Franken’s staff to place someone within arm’s reach whenever he was in public. These minders took names of potential donors, followed up on constituents’ questions, and stood guard against possibly offensive humor. “There was never a single complaint,” Petersen said, about mistreatment of women. “And, frankly, I wouldn’t have put up with it.” All three people who served Franken as his chief of staff say that they never saw him behave inappropriately toward women. One of them, Casey Aden-Wansbury, told me, “This was not a case where there was some kind of open secret, as you sometimes see on the Hill.”

There was a related issue, however, where the staff had intervened: Franken could be physically obtuse. Staffers had told him not to swing his arms so much when he walked, and to close his mouth when he chewed. Petersen told me that he had “monster hands” and sometimes clapped her on the back so hard that it knocked the wind out of her. When he ate, spittle often flew across the table. “He’s sort of clumsy,” Gabrielle Zuckerman, who worked with him at Air America, the progressive talk-radio network, told me, recalling that a heavy backpack once caused him to fall off a chair, pinning him on his back like a turtle. He left the house with his shirt half tucked, and failed to pick up wet towels when staying with friends. He tended to hug many people, and kiss some, even on the mouth. “It was the New York hello-goodbye kiss,” a longtime adviser told me. The talk-show host Randi Rhodes and the comedian Sarah Silverman have described Franken as a social—not a sexual—“lip-kisser.” Silverman told GQ, “He has no sexuality.” (Afterward, Franken sent her a facetious note saying, “Thanks a lot.”) Nevertheless, after Franken kissed a female acquaintance on the mouth in 2007, during his first campaign, an aide from South Dakota, David Benson, took him aside and said, “Don’t do that.” “Really?” Franken said. Benson warned him that people might misinterpret it.

Franken told me that he became more careful after that. “I’m a very physical person,” he said. “I guess maybe sometimes I’m oblivious.” He added, “I’ve been a hugger all my life. When I take pictures, I bring people in close.” He recalled that he often turned people toward the light for a better angle, reminding me, “I used to be in show business.” When posing with kids, he jokingly put them in a headlock. “The family would often laugh about it,” Franken said. But once, when he did this in the Capitol, another senator, Chris Murphy, warned him, “That looks like something that will bring joy and happiness to a thousand families—until it ends your career.”

Franken emphasized that he’d never heard any complaints about his behavior toward women—“not firsthand, secondhand, or thirdhand”—until the day Tweeden’s story broke. Jess McIntosh, who was his spokesperson from 2007 to 2010, said, “I’ve taken thousands of those photos with him and I’ve never seen any behavior that was questionable. We were together non-stop—like, the only two people staying in a hotel—and nothing happened. I felt completely comfortable.”

To Franken’s dismay, he had no memory of any of the alleged accusers except Tweeden. He had met the seven women long ago, mostly in fleeting interactions in crowded venues, posing for photographs with them. Only two incidents were alleged to have happened after Franken was elected to the Senate. A woman named Lindsay Menz told CNN that, at the Minnesota State Fair in 2010, her husband had taken a photograph of her with Franken, and that Franken had grabbed her bottom while posing. She said that the episode had lasted three to four seconds, and that Franken’s hand had been “wrapped tightly around my butt cheek.” (Menz didn’t respond to requests for an interview.)

The other claim accusing Franken of misconduct as a senator involved an inaugural party for Obama, in 2009. A liberal journalist named Tina Dupuy said that she had asked Franken to pose with her for a photograph. Minutes later, she posted the image on the Web site FishbowlLA, saying, “Totally stoked. So suck it.” Dupuy told me that, despite her apparent excitement at the time, it had been an upsetting encounter; Franken, she said, had squeezed her waist in a creepy way for several seconds. “It wasn’t violent rape,” she acknowledged. “But it was, like, ‘Ick!’ ” She told the press that, at the time, she had put on weight, and felt uneasy about her body. A. J. Goodman, who was with Franken when the photograph was taken, said, “She asked for the picture, put her arm around his shoulder—what was he supposed to do? How’s he supposed to know how she feels? He’s not a mind reader.”

Sarah Silverman points out that the photo-op allegations, even if true, are of a different magnitude than the kind of grotesque misconduct that has often been exposed in the #MeToo era. “This isn’t Kavanaugh,” she said. “It isn’t Roy Moore.” In fact, one of Franken’s photo-op accusers told the Huffington Post that she voted for him afterward.

Two of the seven accusers were unnamed women who claimed that he had attempted to kiss them without their consent. Both incidents took place while he was hosting a comedic political show for Air America. One woman got an unwanted kiss on the cheek after turning her head to avoid his mouth. The other sidestepped him.

The first incident occurred on April 28, 2006, in Brattleboro, Vermont, where Franken was broadcasting a live show at the Latchis Theatre, in front of seven hundred and fifty people. When a local elected official came onstage to hand him an award, he kissed her. The woman, whose name is being withheld at her request, declined to speak to me on the record. But she told her story, anonymously, to Jezebel, saying that she felt certain Franken had been aiming to give her a “wet, open-mouthed kiss.” She told Jezebel, “I felt demeaned. I felt put in my place.” She said that, although they were in a public place, nobody noticed the encounter. But Christian Avard, a local reporter, witnessed it, and told me, “I think it was supposed to be ‘Thank you very much,’ but it looked like a bad kiss on his part.”

About a week or two before Tweeden stepped forward, the former Vermont official tried to report Franken to the Boston Globe. The newspaper has standards requiring #MeToo accusers to be identified or to corroborate their story through documents and witnesses—preferably, people outside their immediate circle. The Globe  deemed the story too weak. After Tweeden came forward, the woman called KABC-AM, but the station also passed. (McIntyre, Tweeden’s former co-host, told me he felt that blind accusations were unfair.) But, on November 30th, Jezebel ran the woman’s anonymous account, citing as corroboration an unnamed sister in whom the former Vermont official had confided.

Around then, Goodman called Franken and said, “Al, just tell me—I’ll always be with you, no matter what, but I have to know.” On the brink of tears, he told her, “There’s nothing!”

Jeff Lomonaco, his former chief of staff, said, “I’ll go to my grave thinking Al Franken is not a predatory person,” adding, “It was all very upsetting, because we all thought the #MeToo stuff was a very important conversation for the country to be having.” Andy Barr said, of Franken, “He is a warm, tactile person, especially when taking pictures,” adding that he could see how this behavior could be misunderstood. “There’s a difference between molesting someone and being friendly. But there may not be a difference between feeling molested and feeling that someone’s being friendly.” The only way forward, Franken’s staffers decided, was for him to take responsibility for having made women feel disrespected, while stressing that he hadn’t meant to do so.

The strategy backfired. At a moment when allegations of egregious sexual misconduct against such men as Harvey Weinstein, Louis C.K., Mark Halperin, Charlie Rose, Matt Lauer, Russell Simmons, and John Conyers were resulting in serious repercussions, Franken’s statement came off as insufficiently contrite.

Senate Democrats, meanwhile, were under increasing pressure from the media and women’s groups to explain why they were castigating Roy Moore but not Al Franken. Many Democrats felt that they needed to distance themselves from Franken in order to win in Alabama. Joe Trippi, the political consultant to Doug Jones, the Democrat who eventually defeated Moore, told me that, in reality, Franken had little bearing on the race. But Washington is its own ecosystem, and Democratic women in the Senate felt particularly exposed. They were put on the spot by the media much more than their male colleagues were, and they feared looking hypocritical. Rebecca Traister, a writer-at-large for New York, told me, “It’s obtuse to say ‘Let’s have an investigation’ and pretend that solves it. Investigations take months. Meanwhile, women like Kirsten Gillibrand were being grilled on it every day.” As new allegations kept coming, Traister said, “Al Franken was letting his caucus suffer.”

On December 1, 2017, seven female Democratic senators—Gillibrand, Kamala Harris, Claire McCaskill, Mazie Hirono, Patty Murray, Maggie Hassan, and Catherine Cortez Masto—met with Chuck Schumer to tell him that most of them were on the verge of demanding Franken’s resignation. At least one of them had already drafted such a statement, and the group’s resolve hardened further when some of its members learned of an impending Politico story that contained a seventh allegation, by a former Senate staff member. The accuser, whose name is being withheld at her request, was known to some of the seven female senators. The woman said that, in 2006, when Franken was still a comedian, he had made her uneasy by looking as if he planned to kiss her. The senator she had worked for hadn’t known of the allegation at the time, but vouched for her credibility.

According to someone familiar with the situation, Schumer spoke with Franken later that day, advising him to take the issue more seriously and to reach out to the women senators. Franken has no recollection of this conversation, but says that it’s wrong to suggest he wasn’t already taking the matter seriously. His plan was still to respond to Tweeden’s claims at the Senate Ethics Committee hearing. “I was going by the book,” Franken told me. “We didn’t think we should mount a lobbying campaign. But then it all started cascading.” He faults Schumer for not insisting to his caucus that an investigation was under way, and that due process required facts before a verdict. “Look, the Leader is called the Leader for a reason,” Franken told me.

On December 6th, Politico posted the story of the anonymous congressional staffer, under the headline “Another Woman Says Franken Tried to Forcibly Kiss Her.” The accuser said that, in 2006, she had accompanied the senator she used to work for to a taping of Franken’s Air America show. The senator left, and the accuser was gathering her papers when she looked up and saw Franken practically in her face. “He was between me and the door, and he was coming at me to kiss me,” the woman said. “It was very quick, and I think my brain had to work really hard to be, like, ‘Wait, what is happening?’ But I knew whatever was happening was not right, and I ducked.” According to the woman, Franken then said, “It’s my right as an entertainer.” Jess McIntosh, who worked for emily’s List after her years with Franken, and is an outspoken advocate of women’s issues, told me, “There’s zero chance he said he was entitled to kiss someone because he was in show business. He’s not entitled to anything, as he sees it. What he does say is ‘Sorry, it’s a show-business thing,’ when he’s moving someone into the light for a picture, or if he’s made a bad joke.” But the portrait of Franken in Politico reminded some people of Trump’s infamous claim, in the “Access Hollywood” tape, that celebrities like him could just grab women “by the pussy.”

Franken told me that it “was something I would never do or say.” He added, “Maybe it could have been a misunderstanding. If she seemed freaked out or something, I may have said, ‘Sorry, I was just trying to give you a hug, and that’s what we do in show business.’ Or something like that.” The story quoted him saying that the accusation was “categorically not true,” and that he looked forward to an Ethics Committee hearing. But Franken recalls thinking, This is really bad. It makes me look like I did something terrible.

Not long ago, I asked the woman if she thought that Franken had been making a sexual advance or a clumsy thank-you gesture.

“Is there a difference?” she replied. “If someone tries to do something to you unwanted?” From her standpoint, because she was at work—a professional woman deserving respect—his intentions didn’t matter.

Franken has maintained that the woman’s story was the allegation “that killed me.” I asked her if his behavior was bad enough to end his Senate career.

“I didn’t end his Senate career—he did,” she said.

Franken was stricken when I related her comments to him. “Look,” he said. “This has really affected my family. I loved being in the Senate. I loved my staff—we had fun and we got good things done, big and small, and they all meant something to me.” He started to cry. “For her to say that, it’s just so callous. It’s just so wrong.” Rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses, he said, “I ended my career by saying ‘Thanks’ to her—that’s what she’s saying.”

Minutes after Politico posted the story, Senator Gillibrand’s chief of staff called Franken’s to say that Gillibrand was going to demand his resignation. Franken was stung by Gillibrand’s failure to call him personally. They had been friends and squash partners. In a later call, Gillibrand’s chief of staff offered to have Gillibrand speak with Franken, but by that time Franken was frantically conferring with his staff and his family. Franken’s office proposed that Franken’s daughter speak with Gillibrand instead, but Gillibrand declined.

Gillibrand then went on Facebook and posted her demand that Franken resign: “Enough is enough. The women who have come forward are brave and I believe them. While it’s true that his behavior is not the same as the criminal conduct alleged against Roy Moore, or Harvey Weinstein, or President Trump, it is still unquestionably wrong, and should not be tolerated.”

Minutes later, at a previously scheduled press conference, Gillibrand added insult to injury: she reiterated her call for Franken to resign while also trumpeting her sponsorship of a new bill that banned mandatory arbitration of sexual-harassment claims. She didn’t mention that Franken had originated the legislation—and had given it to Gillibrand to sponsor, out of concern that it might be imperilled by his scandal.

I recently asked Gillibrand why she felt that Franken had to go. She said, “We had eight credible allegations, and they had been corroborated, in real time, by the press corps.” She acknowledged that she hadn’t spoken to any accusers, to assess their credibility, but said, “I had been a leader in this space of sexual harassment and assault, and it was weighing on me.” Franken was “entitled to whichever process he wants,” she said. “But he wasn’t entitled to me carrying his water, and defending him with my silence.” She acknowledged that the accusations against Franken “were different” from the kind of rape or molestation charges made against many other #MeToo targets. “But the women who came forward felt it was sexual harassment,” she said. “So it was.”

Gillibrand’s call for Franken’s resignation triggered an immediate backlash. Ricki Seidman, a Democratic communications consultant in Washington, who worked with Anita Hill during Clarence Thomas’s Supreme Court confirmation hearings, in 1991, immediately posted a scorching response. “As a victim of sexual assault, you are cheapening my experience by leading a call for Senator Franken, who has been a champion for women, to step down based on the flimsy accounts that have come to light to date,” Seidman wrote. “Knowing of far worse behavior in the Senate, and FAR worse behavior among Republicans like Donald Trump and Roy Moore, the fact that you are equating Senator Franken with them, I find abhorrent and INSULTING to women.” Major Democratic donors, including Susie Tompkins Buell, the co-founder of the Esprit and North Face clothing lines, who had backed Gillibrand in the past, also turned against her. Buell told me that Gillibrand’s move was “opportunistic,” adding, “It was like a vigilante thing, it was so fast and so presumptuous. I hope women learn from this. You can’t rush to judgment. You ruin people’s lives.”

Gillibrand told me, “I’d do it again today,” adding, “If a few wealthy donors are angry about that, it’s on them.”

Soon after Gillibrand declared that Franken must resign, Senator Murray, who is in the Democratic leadership, made the same call, sending a signal to colleagues that the push was coming from the top. The Rhode Island senator Sheldon Whitehouse, a friend of Franken’s, recalls being astonished that there had been no emergency meeting of the Democratic caucus. “A reasonably organized group of our caucus decided to do this without giving their own colleagues a heads-up,” he said. “This was about demanding that a member of our own caucus resign from the Senate. It was a big deal.” From that point on, he said, “it was like a slow-rolling stampede through the day, waiting to see who would bolt next, with no meeting, no hearing, no process.”

Franken asked to meet with Schumer, who suggested talking at his apartment in downtown D.C., in order to avoid the press. “It was like a scene out of a movie,” Franken recalled. Schumer sat on the edge of his bed while Franken and his wife, who had come to lend moral support, pleaded for more time. According to Franken, Schumer told him to quit by 5 p.m.; otherwise, he would instruct the entire Democratic caucus to demand Franken’s resignation. Schumer’s spokesperson denied that Schumer had threatened to organize the rest of the caucus against Franken. But he confirmed that Schumer told Franken that he needed to announce his resignation by five o’clock. Schumer also said that if Franken stayed he could be censured and stripped of committee assignments.

“I couldn’t believe it,” Franken told me. “I asked him for due process and he said no.”

By the end of the day, thirty-six Democratic senators had publicly demanded Franken’s resignation, including Schumer, who had known Franken since they had overlapped at Harvard. Schumer declined to be interviewed, but sent a statement: “Al Franken’s decision to step down was the right decision—for the good of the Senate and the good of the country. I regret losing him as a colleague but given the circumstances, it was inevitable.”

Franken, his wife, his children, and a group of staff and advisers argued late into the night about what to do. Shaken, Franken had asked his chief of staff, “Do you think I’m this terrible person?” His wife wanted to fight on, but his children worried about his well-being, and everyone’s biggest concern was that, if he remained a pariah, he couldn’t represent Minnesota effectively. Franken could have toughed it out like New Jersey’s Democratic senator Bob Menendez, who hung on despite having been indicted on federal corruption charges, in 2015. (Democrats hadn’t demanded Menendez’s resignation, largely because New Jersey’s governor at the time was a Republican and would have appointed a Republican replacement; in Franken’s case, the Minnesota governor was a Democrat.) But Franken decided he had to resign.

Drew Littman, Franken’s first chief of staff, told me, “People said he didn’t have to do it, but he’s so social—his nerves are exposed all the time. It was like going to school and thinking these people are your friends and they really like you, and then one day they all get together and beat you up. You don’t want to go back to that school after that.” Norman Ornstein, Franken’s friend, said, “It was no more a choice than jumping after they make you walk the plank.”

The next day, Franken gave a short resignation speech. Gillibrand and other Senate colleagues flocked to hug him afterward. But Franken told me, “I’m angry at my colleagues who did this. I think they were just trying to get past one bad news cycle.” For months, he ignored phone calls and cancelled dates with friends. “It got pretty dark,” he said. “I became clinically depressed. I wasn’t a hundred per cent cognitively. I needed medication.”

Franken feels deeply sorry that he made women uncomfortable, and is still trying to understand and learn from what he did wrong. But he told me that “differentiating different kinds of behavior is important.” He also argued, “The idea that anybody who accuses someone of something is always right—that’s not the case. That isn’t reality.”

For some activists in the women’s movement, Franken’s resignation was a welcome milestone. Linda Hirshman, the author of the recent book “Reckoning: The Epic Battle Against Sexual Abuse and Harassment,” told me, “Franken clearly intended to touch these women, and in doing so he violated their right to bodily integrity.” She argues that the Democratic Party has belatedly made up for having excused Bill Clinton’s treatment of women, adding that it’s “finally starting to be the party that protects women from having their asses grabbed.”

Other feminists see the episode as a necessary corrective. Traister, who thinks that the behavior described in the media qualifies as sexual harassment, told me, “One of the troubling things about this is that there aren’t easy answers. When you change rules, you end up penalizing people who were caught behaving according to the old rules. But if you don’t change the rules they will never change.”

The lawyer Debra Katz, who has represented Christine Blasey Ford and other sexual-harassment victims, remains troubled by Franken’s case. She contends, “The allegations levelled against Senator Franken did not warrant his forced expulsion from the Senate, particularly given the context in which most of the behavior occurred, which was in his capacity as a comedian.” She adds, “All offensive behavior should be addressed, but not all offensive behavior warrants the most severe sanction.” Katz sees Franken as a cautionary tale for the #MeToo movement. “To treat all allegations the same is not only inappropriate,” she warns. “It feeds into a backlash narrative that men are vulnerable to even frivolous allegations by women.” ♦

This article appears in the print edition of the July 29, 2019, issue.

[joyfullyimportantyouth-blog]

Tell me a story: Yoga Abroad

It had been a long day since the Argentinian had MIA-ed into the sunset, leaving me groping for serenity that very long Wednesday before yoga teacher training was to begin. "Allo!" The hostel owner who everyone called "Daddy" chimed as I shuffled from my porch to my moped. Damn. I wanted something herbed to counterbalance my lunch of nerves and tempeh and air. Ten more minutes till I was expected to be at the Shala for what would be either a savasana cocktail of celebrity rehab or an om orgasm with taut Nordic goddesses who probably moonlighted as amber-infused Bhagavagita sexologists. I was gonna take my gamble and go find out after shelling out the skrilla G's in a moment of BLANKKKKK upheaval one hungover morning in Bangkok just two weeks prior. Time to smatter my Traggae Surf hostel wall with Giselle Bunchden and "Touch Yourself, Ganesh Offspring" quotes.

I decided to walk and observe everything to get into the practice of being "authentically mindful." It took me 3 times of listening to Yo Gotti's "Act Right" before I reached the tranquil wood sign of "Yoga Searcher, Uluwatu, Bali." There was a happy Buddha emblazoned on the coinage that I had arrived to find myself. Skeptical, a little. Facetious, no… it just dawned on me and probably a million times before that I could be the anti-christ to these types of programs. I'd always simultaneously cringed and fawned over the "yoga gurl" pics insta kept on titillating rotation: yoga gurl stretching into some fantastical bridge position, her bronzed bod entwined with an inspirational quote of having "found inner peace" in Peru. "Yoga gurl" sipping out of a chlorophyll coconut like it was the most delicious double-shot of patron that she'd ever guzzled. "Yoga gurl" beaming at her dreaded washboard abs surfer boyfriend, congratulating her graduation with matching sun and moon tattoos and the coordinates of where they'd once met at a surfer ashram.

Why was I here? Did I want to be yoga gurl? Textbook guilty. It was time to reinvent after spending far too much time withdrawn into a shell of "the post-grad life." I could've just bought a $30 insurance covered therapy session a few times a week with a frumpily dressed yet moderately compassionate shrink but nooooo, no no no... I had to go to BALI to talk about problems and laugh with nonchalance when I realized that my hair salty and my toes so tanned meant the world was so fine now, so fine.  I could envision my previous selves clustering together to meet about this cosmic life transition, sharing kombucha while wondering where the wine and whiskey was hidden, rumpling a NYTimes paper to a Jay Z banger, reflecting then brushing off the meanderings with "oh, please, let's just say fuck it and do it. It'll be a great story." Indeed. I wandered up to the Shala, the grass seeming to emanate inner peace itself as it swayed by the infinity pool, inviting the gorgeous participants to "let that shit go." Beautiful women in flowing bohemian glory wandered up the steps, not breaking a sweat in the 90 degree sun, their smiles like sumptuous macca whirling in a sea of boison berries. "Welcome," one of our instructors, Amy, greeted us. I loved her immediately. Her hair was a fiery crown of auburn and she had a septum and her voice was as soothing as dark chocolate dashed in Jameson; when she said "gra" in her Irish lilt I wondered why Hozier hadn't married her already.

We all settled into our crimson pillows and were told to interview a partner so we could learn, embrace, introduce, get to know each other. My partner, Rebecca, was a holistic wunderkind platonic supermodel with a dash of sass who I assumed could do the splits with the conviction of the Dalai Lama's blessing. When it came time to go around the circle, she read my answers as I challenged myself to unravel from a painful expression of half-lotus that I could definitely not do: "Isabelle loves the color black, Bobby Shmurda club bangerz, painting, reading. She is currently traveling on her own for three months and has no expectations of what her experience will be here. She just wants to learn how to breathe and connect with parts of herself that she feels like she has lost." Goddamn, I wanted to cry for myself. Thank god everyone going around the circle wasn't set on this teacher track, they  just wanted some expensive therapy with prayer beads and Shiva and all that. There would undoubtedly be the Eat Pray Lover who had found her moksha in India and in her rose-smelling coitus, but om mani padmi om to her.

I had always loved yoga, but like with everything else, I tended to conceptualize the whole experience into a tangent web of intellectualized thoughts and associations. Or inappropriate metaphors. I loved the feeling of the actual exercise, but all of this head business made it so that it was an experience outside of me usually; the spirituality had not yet caught me, although that was why I was precisely in Bali at the golden temple shala at that very moment. I wanted a jolt and so I was going to throw caution to the wind with a degree of control based on the internet's blessing of great reviews of women who were trying to do the same thing as me at yoga retreats and teacher trainings abroad. I'd felt like I'd been unraveling for a bit already, so decluttering some of the mess seemed beyond essential and spiritual tourism was what I thought would be quite the graceful quick fix.

The next few weeks turned into an amalgamation of self-discovery and trying to do certain asana positions and also some penetrating flares of frustration but also laughter at the absurdity of some "unfoldings." Every morning started at 5:30 am in the shala, which meant rolling out of bed and spraying myself with delicious DEET at 5:10 AM before sauntering out the door to walk with my neighborhood bombshells, Greta (from Wisconsin) and Becks (from Norway). Thankfully, Becks and I would sprint back to "Daddy" come 7:30 AM to guzzle buttloads of delish Balinese coffee while commiserating about how our hips couldn't open and yet how we loved Dipa's lectures on the feminine and the masculine merged into perception within the concept of the 8 folds of yoga. After this ritual I would usually blare Schoolboy Q and practice twrking (always come prepared) for a solid 40 minutes before going back to the shala for some alignment where I prayed that we would have partner massage sessions that would make my celibate self feel some firing synapses.

I found some soul sistahs in my atypical American peers. Erin and I found each other at the next door warung when she explained how she wanted some body bounce and less namestes. She became #1 woe. She is the baddest bitch of them all, especially when we listened to E-40 by the pool and she claimed in-person basis with the bay's pride and glory. And she worked at Twitter and claimed a title in an Aussie wet t-shirt contest and has traveled the whole world and is an acclaimed blogger. And would do neck shots of tequila with me. We became each other's co-dependent trap queens at the local Single Fin club. Thank god I wasn't in love while I was incorporating into this yogini program. Instead I meditated on everything I was looking for and why I was alone and why I was so ecstatic to be single (until 10 pm). It was like a study abroad for starving yourself on green juice and breathing and all I had to do was make decisions for me. My agenda was to get everything out of my system, although that comes at a cost: because then you actually discover yourself. And that can be... hard. But necessary. I realized I was a whole person and so was everyone else no matter what point in life they were at. Basically, yoga teacher training is like a caftan clad sorority who hold a cave open for worshipping Jack Johnson and period moon goddess parties. The worst part was feeling simultaneously annoyed and a little crestfallen that I couldn't cry post-meditation while others sobbed about varying levels of tragedy and spontaneous emotion. It was as if a little Eagle perched on my soul and clawed at any inkling of a tear. I cried when the nutritionist talked about how her old friends who drank cheap wine and smoked cigs didn't accept her newfound love affair with kale and B12 shots. Figures.

On a lighter note, I would check my Tinder abroad after an arduous day of leg flexing. Here is what I found that led me to keep doing downward dog to soul search and not find men.

Not too savory. But I would often wash away the unsightlyness of it all with a good ol' gin and tonic with the American girls, especially after getting our yoga certificates in our crocheted crop tops. One interesting note: Americans cannot accept awards without looking like complete douche bags. We all joked about it afterwards that the four of us couldn't make heartfelt speeches like the fellow Europeans did. We just collect those trophies like candies, stating after the acceptance, "yeah, thanks guys, love you" as a token of our appreciation. Point of relation, apparently.

The whole yoga experience has made wonder what acceptance is other than just where you are right now. It's also made me curious as to how it is apart of the woman I hope to be or already am. I mostly feel humbled and grateful for the women I got to know for a solid month straight x 1000 hypothetical days of deep talks. And for the times that I wondered about who I was; well, that will continue, and so will the sideways splits of discovering bad-assness that yoga training taps you into. I was gonna write a blog on travel tips and then I ended up writing a blog on inappropriate metaphors. Because that's just me. 

[youngandhungryent]

Megan Thee Stallion Talks Beyoncé, Tory Lanez, New Music & More In ‘Variety’ Interview

Source: Bernard Smalls / @PhotosByBeanz

After being silent for about a month due to certain circumstances, Megan Thee Stallion is finally opening up about what is going on in her world.

Despite allegedly being shot in both feet by Tory Lanez, which led to his July 12 arrest, Megan Thee Stallion is still poised to have herself a great damn year. So far, she was able to have one best socially distanced performances at this year’s BET Awards and also took home the award for Best Female Hip-Hop Artist. Her “Savage” remix featuring Beyoncé landed her first number one record on the Billboard charts, and she is receiving praise for her role as a judge on HBO Max’s Legendary.

Megan Thee Stallion isn’t letting the Tory Lanez situation or cruel jokes that followed stop her from securing bags. Speaking with Variety for its Young Hollywood issue, the leader of the Hot Girl movement spoke on a bevy of topics including meeting Beyoncè, the shooting incident, and of course, when can we expect new music in the form of her highly-anticipated debut album.

View this post on Instagram

Unbreakable

The Hot Girl on the cover of @variety

A post shared by Hot Girl Meg (@theestallion) on Aug 5, 2020 at 7:34am PDT

When touching on the New Year’s Eve night, where she finally met Queen Bey, Thee Stallion revealed it was like the two “were family” and hit it off immediately.

“In the first five minutes of the conversation, I felt like I’ve been knowing her all my life. She treated me like family, and now I feel like I am family. We talk all the time.”

View this post on Instagram

Happy 2020

@beyonce

A post shared by Hot Girl Meg (@theestallion) on Jan 1, 2020 at 9:59am PST

When touching on the Tory Lanez incident and all of the rumors that immediately followed, revealing that it did bother her, she is not the type to dwell on things and kept it moving.

 “I’m not the type of person who can stay down for a long time. I don’t like to be sad or keep myself in a dark place because I know it could be the worst thing happening, but the pain and the bad things don’t last for long.”

Case in point, Megan just revealed her new ambassador for Revlon, and the Hotties are extremely happy.

Megan also spoke on the support she received from other artists such as Beyoncé, Rihanna, 21 Savage, and Chance The Rapper following the news of the traumatic incident.

Beyoncé sends a flower composition to Megan Thee Stallion:

“Queen, Sending You All My Love. God Bless, Beyonce” pic.twitter.com/u7j58xGs6k

— Thee Stallion Room (@StallionRoom) July 29, 2020

https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

Finally, what’s up with that new album? Megan also touched on that promising that her highly-anticipated debut album is still coming this summer and revealing there is another alter-ego that she says is “the leader of all of them, the boss.” Thee Stallion is also said she got a song about the Black Lives Matter movement in the chamber that she is set to unleash on the world as well.

Oh, and before we go, we can’t forget her new single with Cardi B, “WAP” which is set to drop at the stroke of midnight, and based on the recent artwork for the song, we expect to it be very N A S T Y.

View this post on Instagram

Make sure y’all getting y’alls vinyls

WAP OUT AT MIDNIGHT

@iamcardib

A post shared by Hot Girl Meg (@theestallion) on Aug 6, 2020 at 9:08am PDT

We can’t wait to hear it.

We’re just happy to see Megan back in good spirits. You definitely can’t keep the Hot Girl down.

—

Photo: Bernard Smalls / @PhotosByBeanz

source https://hiphopwired.com/895180/megan-thee-stallion-beyonce-variety-interview/

from Young And Hungry Entertainment https://ift.tt/3gHq6Ek via Young And Hungry Ent. source http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/yahblogger/~3/81Plnbn8_cU/megan-thee-stallion-talks-beyonce-tory.html

[youngandhungryent]

Megan Thee Stallion Talks Beyoncé, Tory Lanez, New Music & More In ‘Variety’ Interview

Source: Bernard Smalls / @PhotosByBeanz

After being silent for about a month due to certain circumstances, Megan Thee Stallion is finally opening up about what is going on in her world.

Despite allegedly being shot in both feet by Tory Lanez, which led to his July 12 arrest, Megan Thee Stallion is still poised to have herself a great damn year. So far, she was able to have one best socially distanced performances at this year’s BET Awards and also took home the award for Best Female Hip-Hop Artist. Her “Savage” remix featuring Beyoncé landed her first number one record on the Billboard charts, and she is receiving praise for her role as a judge on HBO Max’s Legendary.

Megan Thee Stallion isn’t letting the Tory Lanez situation or cruel jokes that followed stop her from securing bags. Speaking with Variety for its Young Hollywood issue, the leader of the Hot Girl movement spoke on a bevy of topics including meeting Beyoncè, the shooting incident, and of course, when can we expect new music in the form of her highly-anticipated debut album.

View this post on Instagram

Unbreakable

The Hot Girl on the cover of @variety

A post shared by Hot Girl Meg (@theestallion) on Aug 5, 2020 at 7:34am PDT

When touching on the New Year’s Eve night, where she finally met Queen Bey, Thee Stallion revealed it was like the two “were family” and hit it off immediately.

“In the first five minutes of the conversation, I felt like I’ve been knowing her all my life. She treated me like family, and now I feel like I am family. We talk all the time.”

View this post on Instagram

Happy 2020

@beyonce

A post shared by Hot Girl Meg (@theestallion) on Jan 1, 2020 at 9:59am PST

When touching on the Tory Lanez incident and all of the rumors that immediately followed, revealing that it did bother her, she is not the type to dwell on things and kept it moving.

 “I’m not the type of person who can stay down for a long time. I don’t like to be sad or keep myself in a dark place because I know it could be the worst thing happening, but the pain and the bad things don’t last for long.”

Case in point, Megan just revealed her new ambassador for Revlon, and the Hotties are extremely happy.

Megan also spoke on the support she received from other artists such as Beyoncé, Rihanna, 21 Savage, and Chance The Rapper following the news of the traumatic incident.

Beyoncé sends a flower composition to Megan Thee Stallion:

“Queen, Sending You All My Love. God Bless, Beyonce” pic.twitter.com/u7j58xGs6k

— Thee Stallion Room (@StallionRoom) July 29, 2020

Finally, what’s up with that new album? Megan also touched on that promising that her highly-anticipated debut album is still coming this summer and revealing there is another alter-ego that she says is “the leader of all of them, the boss.” Thee Stallion is also said she got a song about the Black Lives Matter movement in the chamber that she is set to unleash on the world as well.

Oh, and before we go, we can’t forget her new single with Cardi B, “WAP” which is set to drop at the stroke of midnight, and based on the recent artwork for the song, we expect to it be very N A S T Y.

View this post on Instagram

Make sure y’all getting y’alls vinyls

WAP OUT AT MIDNIGHT

@iamcardib

A post shared by Hot Girl Meg (@theestallion) on Aug 6, 2020 at 9:08am PDT

We can’t wait to hear it.

We’re just happy to see Megan back in good spirits. You definitely can’t keep the Hot Girl down.

—

Photo: Bernard Smalls / @PhotosByBeanz

source https://hiphopwired.com/895180/megan-thee-stallion-beyonce-variety-interview/