#getloud

[mimaveil]

I Know Your Dad and He Wouldn't Mind

@getlouder: 50 new messages what new depravities have you dunked your little men like Oreos into (milk glass emoji)

@vermiculated: mimaveil's getting into romantasy and she's going to make a million dollars, get a movie deal, take OD to the premiere, and he's still not going to know how to stand

Governing Concept: can't an up-and-coming actor send nudes to his onscreen dad, torrid, get dumped, and not learn his lesson post-pandemic? gosh. normie pocket dimension of ask for a key, or the comedy-of-marriage-minded sequel to sex, or a bag of rocks (i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii)

or: it's not a felony anymore, just improper

or: blue valentine with more anal

cw: future nsfw, 1k of pretentious set-up

“Do you have anything that smells like old dick?” Logan asks, loudly. “Um, mildly expired. Lost its warranty.” 

Owen shrivels into his sweatshirt. This is a nice snuff room — fish-oil lighting, scallop-pink walls, tidy shelves, imitation-Tabriz rugs on the spotty cypress. Besides him and Logan, maybe eight other pilgrims waiting for bottle service on a Monday. He digs the toecap of his sneaker into a pleasantly warped medallion of garnet, ivory, coral. 

The sales associate sighs. Slides clear-frame glasses down her nose. Probably five years older than them, although hard to tell with the bangs. Apothecary-sleaze drips, peach syrup, from the surround sound. 

“Linear or non-linear?” Briny regard, her décolletage throbs with Dancheong ink; she must have a killer sun-prevention regimen. 

Palms on the milk-vein table top, Logan makes his face genuflect. Choreographer’s trick. Grinning sidelong at Owen, “You like complicated.” Actually bowing to the sales associate, puffy-paint letters bulging against his back: “Go wild, bombastic, high-morph. It’s for a business date.”

Owen’s throat unclogs. “Proposal, a research proposal,” he says hastily. “Conceptual is fine.” 

After a few more questions, Owen squirming around his waxed satchel, the sales associate lopes off to a back room, fall of velvet on a chain. Across the table, Logan squares his shoulders and breathes heavily into his fists. Bottles everywhere, the noonish play of sound on the perfume caps: zamac, aluminum, enamel, marbled, beveled, cubist, sinuous, glossy, surly-cherubic…

“Bro, you could be doing great work in this community,” Logan says, plying a candlewick. A hexagonal serving-glass on the table mirrors his under-jaw. “Divorced pilates moms with zero-to-negative emotional needs, absolutely fiend for sad, artsy boys like you. You’re the elephant they never got to ride at the zoo.”

Scratching his lip, reedy, “I don’t think you’re supposed to ride elephants. Or, have sex with them?” A woman squeezes past, crema leggings; he catches a gulp of tangerine. 

“You know what I mean!” Cracks knuckles, blanched in good humor. They’re doing a tour of Logan’s haunts, because Logan is a low-judgment friend with a durable memory. “Yet, you’re signing up to do a full teardown reno on some guy’s personality?” 

Owen’s phone writhes in the zip pocket. Yesterday, he got an AP News alert on the topic of micro-cheating, with somber examples (“getting excited to dress up for a co-worker.” “Liking somebody’s social media posts to distraction”). Wasn’t that just a crush? 

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “It’s personal-professional.” That’s what the text had said. Come stay with me. Personal-profesh. Get you the wife experience.

Eternally “yes-and,” Logan shrugs. Scarce wonder they’ve kept in touch, even after drifting cross-industry. Owen’s not sure if Logan’s acting anymore. 

“We get you geared up, you spray this on the collar of a super-basic tee. Like, an anime tee. No, scratch: old dudes leak for a band t-shirt. Women like non-representational art, so they can Photoshop you into something else. Show up in a button-down�� not plaid, we’re not in middle school — undone, airplane pants, utility sandal in, uh, lilac. They’ll be heaving into your hand.” 

The sales associate returns with a flight of testers on a raw-edge serving tray, red cedar. There’s a jaunty tin of coffee beans, as a huff cleanser. “Your aura is a lot of sparkling herbals,” she diagnoses. “Dark mosses and pepper.” Her falsies scrape her eyeglass lens. 

As Owen starts to read the description cards by each of the five bottles, Logan smacks him on the arm. Almost like they’re back on set, clowning around. 

“Remember the rules, bro,” fast-twitch smile. “Let the intensity in. Feed the metaphor. Crush on the creator. Pretend you’re a buyer — okay, that’s boring, we are buying — build another register of enjoyment. Dig for the flaw.”

First draught is a staticky wheeze; it’s supposed to mimic the dust on a lamp, spine curved around a pillow, hand under pyjamas, blocking a bedtime story. He’s not getting the immortelle. 

Second draught slopes into a mushroom hunt, loamy-medicinal, birch, balsam fir needle. The ginseng — and he likes sharp, he likes outdoors, but. Anxiety spiders his back.  

Owen’s not a frag-head like Logan, but he knows scent and memory. People have bits of their brains just hanging out their nose-holes all the time. Smells jump the counter, bypass the receptionist. 

He accidentally reads the name of the third bottle: Sydney Rock Pool. Skips it. 

Fourth is a bullying devotional, heavy on the saffron, tar, incense, tobacco. It fights him all the way, from grip to alveoli. “Myrrh and benzoin makes this, like, sexy mummified,” Logan chews into his cuticle. “Maybe a little too heavy for you.”

They break to sniff the coffee beans from the tin. Logan’s relaxed; he knows that he’s getting the d’Annam Strawberry Mochi (chewy rice, Azuki bean paste, brown sugar) for his girlfriend, who is picking them up in 20 minutes, so they can all wait in line for chocolate sourdough. 

Fifth’s a metallic strine, rust on grapefruit. The scent bleeds right off. They get a second flight with a decent rock-climbing accord of sweat, basalt, seaweed, gasoline. The friction, the ardor, and the drop. 

He gets samples in a baggie, from Logan’s actual purchase, and buys an 8-oz soy candle for his mom, maybe for her annual Christmas party. The box is lilac; it’s called “Snow on Fire.”

—

After the intensive smelling, the coffee-bean reset, actual coldbrew tastes flaccid. 

At deferred lunch, back to the casement window, Anjali talks about her rotation, Logan clearly adoring, refilling her rose tea. As hosts, outnumbering him, they’ve let themselves be rear-lit, chambray sky. Atop PharmD school, she’s a bridesmaid for three weddings this summer; “the color story is a nightmare,” she says, painting her labneh on two poached eggs. 

“Owen gets rings,” Logan affirms/outs through a shatter of Kouign Amann. Their table teeters under the full bread service. 

The knife startles, buckwheat C-section: “It’s not that dramatic.” Crepe-warm, the crushed plum-raspberry-peach hits the high note in his mouth, leaves gummy tracks. “My ex proposed to me, I said no. And my ex before that.”

Anjali smooths her hair over her ears, mindful of the teacup. “That’s so chic.” She swings her heels. “I wish my friends were pickier.” 

Over Logan’s instantly apologetic shoulder, through the glass, Owen spots a putty-tone Roblox car parking out front. 

Who was the greater coward, here? His ex-boyfriend, either one of them, smoothly not over it, inventing new reasons to pester him? 

Or Owen himself, staring at the breakwater, malaise sipping at his heels, waiting for someone to fuck a mark of connoisseurship in him? 

Ben had given him the child’s view of infinity, a place where the pool party never ends, with a perfectly warm deck, forever-curving water slide. So much soft-serve, on tap, that the air tastes like ice cream. Great rolling suitcases spitting out water shoes and swimsuits and ziplocks of crushed cereal, grippy socks, notebooks, markers, hats, stickers, grape vitamins, dramamine tablets, sunscreen sticks, tutu dresses, hair clips, waterproof jackets, quick-dry cargo shorts. A place where the bigger kids zip up the younger ones’ hoodies, and the strong readers sound out the signs for their unlettered friends, where every past child is safe and pardoned and loved. 

He excuses himself to the corridor, hip-checking a double stroller (unoccupied). 

In the single-user restroom, by the bulb of a Glade plug-in, he checks his phone. Sets a date. 

[zheniakirsikkalove]

28.10.2024 - DJ I.M - Kiss The Radio (photos, video)

source Kiss The Radio

[몬스타엑스 I.M의 키스 더 라디오] 몬데몬데? with 게스트 키스오브라이프 쥴리, 하늘 | KBS 241028 방송 (KBS CoolFM)

[몬스타엑스 I.M의 키스 더 라디오] 몬데 몬데? with. 키스오브라이프 하늘, 쥴리 | KBS 241028 방송

[kayodekolade]

Ability Requires Visibility. #dearhighperformer #getloud

[acidqueenband]

Next up, Friday the 13th @thewhittierbar_ with Something of the Somethings and @tennisclubband Gettin loud. #acidqueen #tulsamusic #party #psyche #rocknroll #getloud #whittierbar #tennisclub #somethingofthesomethings (at The Whittier Bar) https://www.instagram.com/p/B52oPSdjSgD/?igshid=6i360t9t70tz

[freethrowline]

[entershikari]

#LiveOutside #Brighton #getloud #entershikari #nordoffrobbins 📷 @capturedbycorinne (at Concorde 2) https://www.instagram.com/p/BoOgVinlBsH/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1m89gznxcrhwf

[theuniformedit]

Loud Shirt Day 📢

Let’s get this party started with our loudest ever shirts! On October 21st is Loud Shirt Day 📢 very year we create the offical shirt design for @hearandsay and some of their partnering companies. 👇 Register now at @loudshirtday and help change the lives of hearing impaired children 🦻🧒 All you have to do it wear your loudest shirt to work that day and get a few sponsors. Make it fun! 👔 🥳

For more information visit our website - https://www.theuniformedit.com.au/

[3rdgd]

Congratulations to our #astros, and to our great city #houston! We Did It (again)! 🙌🧡🤩 ⚾️💙#thirdgenerationdevelopment #proudhoustonian #houstonastros #champions #getloud #altuve #jeremypeña #gostros #alexbregman #gurriel #verlander #frambervaldez (at Third Generation Development) https://www.instagram.com/p/CkoUQLJJfUE/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[fancyfairywings]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Fancy Fairy Wings & Things (@fancyfairyangela)

It's national voter registration day! Seriously, please please vote in the midterms. Our future as a free country hinges on who will dominate the House and Senate. I didn't realize how important midterms are until we ended up with Mango Musilini's election and a conservative majority in the House and Senate that are actively trying to strip many of our rights. VOTE. It really does matter, or the GOP would not be trying so hard to suppress the vote in liberal districts. There's a link in the bio of the @rockthevote account to register! repost via @instarepost20 from @rockthevote Link in bio to get registered. 😁 • • • • • #rockthevote #votingrights #injustice #education #vota #getloud #humanrights #bethechange #socialchange #protectmyvote #america #youthpower #socialjustice #highered #youth #power #vote #voters #womensmarch #powertothepolls #woke #govote https://www.instagram.com/p/BoKOm5FgIuZ/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1tca4ap4v0qaa

[jessejunkocreates]

Wanna burn down the patriarchy? Stay hydrated. Raise your voice. Show up. Gather. Seek safe spaces. Talk about it. Don’t do it alone. I’m with you sisters and I’m mad too, but please please please don’t forget you. The world deserves your self care. The world deserves your health. The world deserves your stamina and longevity. This is a war on women. The world deserves us to show up as our best selves, not depleted, not desperate. We are warriors, but better. Thank you for fighting. Take care of yourself. I love you. Fuck the patriarchy. Women rise. 💧 😡 ✊🏼 . . . #solidarity #fuckthepatriarchy #womenrise #believewomen #abortionrights #waronwomen #hydrate #activistselfcare #selfcare #womensrights #womenwarrior #riseandshine #raiseyourvoice #getmad #feminineleadership #helpwomen #vote #letsgetloud #getloud #showup #standup #standout #hydratefirst #youdoyou #safespace #iloveyou #womencandoanything #girlpower #rise #burnitdown https://www.instagram.com/p/CfT5Hq8OBLQ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ruthypie100]

A cautionary tale of being sick in the UK… don’t get me wrong, being in the UK affords us a brilliant & free NHS service, but we really do need to advocate for our own health more. ❤️‍🩹Especially being a women. It took over a year to get diagnosed with anything meaningful & that was after admitting myself to A&E twice! My advice would be if you are not getting anywhere with your GP, move! Get a second or third opinion & if that doesn’t work go to A&E & make sure they do something before leaving! Make a noise! Get answers, preferably before a year is up! I lost over 20kg and countless days off work due to my GP trying various different meds rather than doing a scan or scope, possibly due to covid who knows? As a result my mental health, work & personal life took a hit! I know how things can go downhill really fast, being in chronic pain made me feel suicidal - thankfully I have my boys & family who were there for me, reminding me to stay positive. ❤️ It’s so important to speak up for your own health & mental well being! Don’t do what I did, get loud & speak up for yourself! If you don’t agree with the treatment or it’s not working, don’t give up - find someone who will listen! I am back home recovering now & am grateful to everyone at West Middlesex Hospital for the week I was under their care. 🙏🏼 My GP however, will be changing asap!!! 🖕🏼 #advocateforyourhealth #nhs #thepractice #feltham #westmiddlesexhospital #amu #marblehillward1 #ibs #ibd #crohns #colitis #womenshealth #chronicpain #speakup #getloud #mentalhealth #physicalhealth #secondopionions #keepfighting (at Feltham) https://www.instagram.com/p/Ce3KHUAqd7LXk2JGigpSkLsLDflvEvTm-QBkYU0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[the960writers]

hollyand-writes replied to your post

“When I’m here and on twitter long enough and even managed to sort of...”

I have never heard of either of those hashtags, and a look into both #tiffanygate and #bookstuffers isn't enlightening me as to what they're both about. What happened?

#bookstuffing #tiffanygate #getloud

I’m gonna post some links that articulate this better but the short and ugly is this: Scammers put books into Kindle Unlimited that contain about 15% new material, stuff it with recycled stories and encourage readers to click through all pages towards the end for some reward. That way, they get paid by page reads for the full hundreds to thousands pages of a novel, without producing any real content. Since the KU pot is a shared resource among all pages read (which I find shady as fuck anyway), they scam other authors out of revenue by taking out a large part of it. 

These books have all been at the top of the charts, pushing down “real” books with their recycled/stuffed content and get promoted as Kindle Stars by Amazon. This isn’t new, it has been going on for years but the community of romance writers on twitter is now making noise about it under the hashtag #getloud.

Some links:  

https://yourcheekywench.com/2018/06/12/an-open-letter-to-jeff-bezos/

http://davidgaughran.com/2018/06/10/cassandra-dee-mosaic-book-stuffing/

https://www.inc.com/minda-zetlin/amazon-book-stuffing-authors-scam-chance-carter-romance-kindle-unlimited.html?cid=sf01001

http://www.pajiba.com/think_pieces/book-stuffing-bribery-and-bullying-the-selfpublishing-problem-plaguing-amazon.php

Here are some highlights because you just can’t make this shit up: 

Most of these novels are probably ghostwritten https://twitter.com/serittel/status/1004716888859992064 so it’s not even their own work their selling. https://twitter.com/DavidGaughran/status/1006602504434585600

The hashtag #tiffanygate refers to Chance Carter, often called CC, who offered his cult of followers (called Diamonds) “a gift from Tiffany” for reading through all pages. That’s definitly against Amazon’s TOS and probably what has gotten him now banned from Amazon and made the Diamonds all very sad.

The Diamonds are a group of about 1000 women, who are a fangroup of the aforementioned Chance Carter. They apparently live such neglected, loveless lives, that the attention from one man through weekly chats is enough for them to go in full on protection mode. It’s actually quite sad. 

The Diamonds have guides how to help CC so that he makes the most money:  https://twitter.com/ease_dropper/status/1002001437876944897/photo/1. That shit is not easy, you have to take your time with the page flip or it doesn’t count.

This is a whole clique of authors like Faleena Hopkins, Cassandra Dee, Russ Raj, all vaguely connected by those “get rich with ebooks” groups like “20 books to 50k”, or “ebookmoneynow, why writing a book yourself is a waste of time”, and the like. They all learn and feed on each other and I wouldn’t be surprised if they all pay for their shared pool of reviewers.

Amazon is now banning a few authors for violation of their TOS, which is of course just a fig leave in this fight. I’m sure Chance Carter has done some search and replace on his old novels and is already re-releasing them under another pen-name and nobody can quite say how many pen-names Cassandra Dee has. None of this will affect the scammers.

Because Amazon is profiting from this. It’s not in their interest to put a stop to this. Capitalism at work.

The #GETLOUD movement has of course brought up a whole lot of sockpuppets on twitter that harass the mostly female romance writers with threats of doxxing and we all know that’s not a coincidence.

Yeah, this is all I can think of for now. 

I’m so tired.

[starrcarter26]

Khalil, we are fighting for you. I will not stop fighting for justice and honouring your memory. I will not back down. Hopefully you’re proud of me. There will be no peace until justice is served. 

[entershikari]

Mr August. post-dip. Brighton 2018. @nordoffrobbins1 #nordoffrobbins #getloud #entershikari (at Concorde 2) https://www.instagram.com/p/BoMyA7vlPHb/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=16i9nbu4hfk9