#the taylor dilemma rises again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

faedawayyy · 3 years

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og verse: my plans for the guys.

this gif of chloe is nothing to do with this but i love the bratz lol. triggering topics below! read with caution.

DALLAS JACKSON, 23, third year.

SECRET: he deals drugs. the jacksons are in the circle of wealthy families in violet springs alongside the calloways, hamiltons, carmichaels, barhams sinclairs etc.but they’re bankrupt, the family has a lot of dark secrets and the main one is that his dad is an addict to both gambling and drugs, to the point where their family is now bankrupt and loaning tons of money from other families are dodgy loan-sharks. the pressure from being the main bread-winner of the family has turned dallas into somebody he never set out to be.

WHERE HE IS ATM: mentally, dallas is on a rocky road to health. he’s still addicted to drugs himself but after a very messy break-up with zara and a messier one with soraya, he’s working closely with friends to focus on his career and try to at least get his mental health in the right place. MY PLANS: another downfall is literally inevitable, it’s dallas. i do think he’ll build himself back up to be huge, though, but he has a lot of resentment to a lot of people and can count on both hands the people he actually likes at st judes. i think there’ll be a lot more of OG dallas; hurting people/arguing with those he doesn’t care about etc. UP COMING PROJECT: justice the album.

MASON CARMICHAEL, 26, fifth year.

SECRET: mason is the only child in the carmichael family who knows that their dad isn’t dead. after getting too close to being tied to a very serious money laundering case, he took his stroke in 2019 as a route out. however, he kept in touch with mason knowing he’s probably the most trustworthy to keep his whereabouts a secret. mason is sitting on the information but it’s getting harder and harder to do when he sees how much the loss of such a key figure is affecting him.

WHERE HE IS ATM: at the moment, mason and kendall have been trying to start a family and he’s also found out that amy is his daughter. this threw him into a huge dilemma and he clashed extremely hard with madison over it. there are still hard feelings - and towards bash, who was just given the role of amy’s father despite mason knowing nothing about it. MY PLANS: i think mason is going to want to see amy more and more despite knowing kendall isn’t hot on the idea/neither is madison to an extent. depending on how everything goes, he’ll definitely take madison to caught for joint custody of amy seeing as he’s never refused to be her dad or acknowledge her - he was just never told. UP COMING PROJECT: princesses, the franchise.

BRODY CARMICHAEL, 25, fourth year.

SECRET: brody has very publicly become a father. he and disney have had their relationship watched by the world since they started high school musical at 14. on the outside, he has everything together. he’s the alpha male type; not that that’s great; think the character taylor plays in her “the man” video and pretty untouchable. on the inside, he’s seriously grieving the loss of his dad and isn’t coping well with the pressure of a new family. his drinking problem happens very much behind closed doors and is straining his marriage but divorce isn’t a marriage, both of them are way too invested in being the world’s most perfect couple.

WHERE HE IS ATM: he’s already had a warning from the hospital that another binge like he’s had could be the end of him and he’s on a very stern plan to become sober. again, nobody actually knows this so he’s kind of recovering in silence but i think he’ll genuinely get better.

MY PLANS: it’ll take a long time but he’ll definitely get better. i don’t think plots always have to be about characters spiralling. i’m also planning for him to see his dad by mistake or something of the sort. i feel like a lot of people will assume he’s high/drunk and it’ll really fuck with him but i haven’t sat and thought out of the details.

UP COMING PROJECT: neighbours 2: sorority rising

BLAKE CRUZ, 23, third year.

SECRET: he watched his brother die. blake didn’t really know what was happening at the time but when he was 12, his older brother charlie was 16. he’d come in after a night of sneaking out and crept back into their shared room as usual. blake was still awake and heard he was clearly drunk, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. he only knew something was seriously wrong when he fell asleep, and then woke up a few hours later and realised charlie was unconcious on top of his bed, still in his clothes - he never just passed out and always got ready for bed; even when completely wasted. he finally called for his parents but it was too late. by morning, charlie was pronounced dead and blake is living with the guilt of not saying anything because he didn’t want to get his brother in trouble. instead, he just let him die. he still hasn’t come to terms with it and tells charlie’s old friends that his death was undetermined instead. WHERE HE IS ATM: blake is very good at burying his memories of charlie and focuses on his relationship and career to stop him from falling down a rabbit hole of guilt and self blame. he’s focused on his new marriage and releasing music with the 5SOS boys, although he’s had his own projects in the works for a very long time - he just doesn’t know how to go about it. UP COMING PROJECTS: CALM, 5sos.

OTIS KINGSTON, 21, second year.

SECRET: otis actually wants to become a teacher. he’s enrolled in the academy for acting after his uncle pushed him towards doing it and he’s had moderate success but his true passion lies in teaching others and being out of the spotlight. that’s why he’s very slowly failing on purpose; he wants to be a seventh year and be given more normal career paths. it might have something to do with the fact that he was having an affair with his older brother’s girlfriend who also failed her final year and is currently a student teacher. his brother never bothers with her so it makes it easy for the two of them to sneak around.

WHERE HE IS ATM: otis is very good at pretending. he puts on such a show that when he loses out or doesn’t get a role, people think he’s GENUINELY upset when in reality, he probably did it on purpose. he feels a little bad taking the spot from someone who wants it, but he did what he needs to do.

UP COMING PROJECTS: euphoria (?)

NATE HARWOOD, 23, third year.

SECRET: nate never got into st judes to begin with. he cheated himself in by changing some of his exam results in high school. a good friend of his tried to push him to do the right thing and consider his other options but nate was fixated on getting into the school, along with two more of his friends who initially failed. his friend threatened him and told him that he’d let their professors know if he went through with it. to stop him getting anywhere near, nate and his friends spiked his drink to get him too drunk to remember on prom night; however, he was so drunk he fell down a huge staircase outside the venue on the fire escape and ended up paralysed from the waist down.

WHERE HE IS ATM: nate has more or less buried the high school mistake but every now and then it comes back to haunt him. at the moment, he’s just making music and doing his best to live the dream he risked WAY too much for.

UP COMING PROJECTS: a good friend is nice

DARIUS RICHARDS, 24, fourth year.

SECRET: darius is actually a west ivy’s student. he was selected by his principle to secretly enroll in st judes to check out the competition. he’s also behind a lot of the sabotages that have been happening in the school (including the up and coming fire). his main aim is to make sure that west ivy’s is better than st judes in everyway, no matter what it takes.

WHERE HE IS ATM: he’s hiding in plain sight. nobody suspects a thing from him. darius is being extra careful with the projects he releases and to always stay a little bit below complete stardom - it makes it easier for him to navigate and do things unnoticed. but, he has met people he genuinely likes too and does his best to save them from sabotage.

UP COMING PROJECTS: starboy

TATE SIMPSON, 26, fifth year.

SECRET: back to the tragedy in his home...it’s true that tate was never harmed by anyone growing up; not physically, anyway. but that doesn’t mean his home was perfect. his parents were young when they had him and he grew up with little money. this put a lot of strain on them and his dad couldn’t deal with it. he resorted to cheating, drinking and being wildly abusive. there were mornings tate turned up at school without sleeping because he’d been up all night hearing his parent’s argue and fight. it escalated. his father moved on to beating his mother and he’d feel helpless. one night while they were arguing, the fire alarm went off due to them leaving the oven on and it stopped them. so, the next time the fighting got severe and tate heard his mother being beat again, he had an idea. he grabbed a lighter from his parents bedroom and set fire to one of his stuffed animals to set the fire alarm off - it did, and his parents stopped arguing, but not before the fire had spread across the top floor of their home. the fire brigade rescued tate and his father, but not his mother. she passed away and he’s blamed himself ever since. nobody ever found the real case, but that doesn’t make it much better for him.

WHERE HE IS ATM: he’s new and just starting out!

UP COMING PROJECTS: big time adolescence

MARCUS CARMICHAEL, 26, fifth year.

SECRET: marcus is often used as his uncle’s scapegoat. james never wanted to get leo, mason or brody too tied into the shadier side of the family business so marcus; child of a single mother and secretly desperate for an in to their world was the perfect candidate. he’s never minded either, to be honest. if he gets paid for shifting some money around or scamming a big time director, so be it. however, the last job he did for james was way too intense, even for him. it included the trafficking of janey and collecting the money made off of her. he had a chance to save her, he knows that, but not without exposing his uncle’s dark secrets. he was never DIRECTLY involved but he knows that doesn’t make him any better.

WHERE HE IS ATM: marcus is focusing on his acting career and making a conscious effort to be better and stay out of trouble. with ghosts from his past constantly showing up, though, it really is proving to be difficult.

UP COMING PROJECTS: hemlock grove

ANTHONY HENSHAW, 27, fifth year.

SECRET: anthony is a stalker. he fixates on people and it gets intense. after being bullied in high school, he latches on to the people who’re nice to him and reads too much into small acts of kindness. he can actually be incredibly dangerous; not many people have noticed yet.

WHERE HE IS ATM: he’s currently fixated on natasha but always open for more.

UP COMING PROJECTS: probably some kind of deal with spotlight to shoot different students idk

KRISTOFER NILSEN, 27, fifth year.

I’LL DO HIM WHEN I CBA

PHILIP LAWSON, 27, fifth year.

SECRET: the stunt at the calloway isn’t random. his dad persuaded him to get it in order to get more information on gerald and more specifically, his account details. believe it or not, philip has already managed to access one of his minor accounts after snooping through a secret office of his, but it only had hundreds in there. he’s ok though; he’s ready to play the long game - and steal from all his less privacy-savy friends while he’s waiting.

WHERE HE IS ATM: just starting out!

UP COMING PROJECTS: big time adolescence/bloom

JUDE BAKER, 18, first year.

SECRET: he’s family are super broke, but he doesn’t let on TOO much. everybody in town knows that his family own the motel that’s on the border of violet springs and london, but that leads to people assuming he’s quite well off or at least average which is how he likes it. his dad is way too carried away with his dream of being a hotel owner which has lead to the baker family selling everything. he literally lives in the motel and really doesn’t have much else to report on.

WHERE HE IS ATM: he’s quiet, anxious and i feel like he’d have one friend who isn’t exactly popular either. all through attending springs park, he was bullied by assholes and st judes was meant to be his fresh start, but he’s realised everybodys worse and with a bigger ego. he keeps himself to himself and is just tries not to be a target.

UP COMING PROJECTS: stranger things >:)

EZRA HUGHES, 25, fourth year.

AGAIN I’LL DO IT WHEN I CBB

#save #I LOVE THEM SO MUCH NOBODY GETS IT #character saves

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96harmony96 · 3 years

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Chapter 15

Friday found Trey sharing breakfast with Cary and me after an overnighter. As I drank the day’s first cup of coffee, I watched him interact with Cary and I was genuinely thrilled to see the intimate smiles and covert touches they gave one another.

I’d had easy relationships like that and hadn’t appreciated them at the time. They had been comfortable and uncomplicated, but they’d been superficial in a fundamental way, too.

How deep could a love affair get if you didn’t know the darkest recesses of your lover’s soul? That was the dilemma I’d faced with Lauren.

Day 2 After Lauren had begun. I found myself wanting to go to her and apologize for leaving her yet again. I wanted to tell her I was there for her, ready to listen or simply offer silent comfort. But I was too emotionally invested. I got wounded too easily. I was too afraid of rejection. And knowing she wouldn’t let me get too close only intensified that fear. Even if we did figure things out, I’d only tear myself apart trying to live with just the bits and pieces she decided to share with me.

At least my job was going well. The celebratory lunch the executives gave in honor of the agency landing the Kingsman account made me genuinely happy. I felt blessed to work in such a positive environment. But when I heard that Lauren had been invited—although no one expected her to show up—I returned quietly to my desk and focused on work the rest of the afternoon.

I hit the gym on the way home; then picked up some items to make fettuccini alfredo for dinner with crème brulée for dessert—comfort food guaranteed to put me in a carbohydrate coma. I expected sleep to offer me a break from the endless what-ifs my brain was recycling, hopefully long into Saturday morning.

Cary and I ate in the living room with chopsticks, his idea to cheer me up. He said dinner was great, but I couldn’t tell. I snapped out of it when he fell silent, too, and I realized I was being a less than stellar friend.

“When are the Grey Isles’ campaign ads going up?” I asked.

“I’m not sure, but get this…” He grinned. “You know how it is with male models—we’re tossed around like condoms at an orgy. It’s tough to stand out from the crowd, unless you’re dating someone famous. Which I’m suddenly reported to be doing since those photos of you and me were plastered everywhere. I’m the side piece of action in your relationship with Lauren Jauregui. You’ve done wonders for making me a hot commodity.”

I laughed. “You didn’t need my help for that.”

“Well, it certainly didn’t hurt. Anyway, they called me back for a couple more shoots. I think they might just use me for more than five minutes.”

“We’ll have to celebrate,” I teased.

“Absolutely. When you’re up for it.”

We ended up hanging out and watching the original Tron. His smartphone rang twenty minutes into the movie and I heard him speaking to his agency. “Sure. I’ll be there in fifteen, tops. I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Got a job?” I asked after he’d hung up.

“Yeah. A model showed up for a night shoot so trashed he’s worthless.” He studied me. “You wanna come?”

I stretched my legs out on the couch. “Nope. I’m good right here.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“All I need is mindless entertainment. Just the thought of getting dressed again exhausts me.” I’d be happy wearing my flannel pajama bottoms and holey old tank top all weekend. As much as I hurt inside, total comfort outside seemed like a necessity. “Don’t worry about me. I know I’ve been a mess lately, but I’ll get it together. Go on and enjoy yourself.”

After Cary rushed out, I paused the movie and went to the kitchen for some wine. I stopped by the breakfast bar, my fingertips gliding over the roses Lauren had sent me the previous weekend. Petals fell to the countertop like tears. I thought about cutting the stems and using the flower food packet that came with the bouquet, but it was pointless hanging on to them. I’d throw the arrangement away tomorrow, the last reminder of my equally doomed relationship.

I’d gotten farther with Lauren in one week than I had with other relationships that lasted two years. I would always love her for that. Maybe I’d always love her, period.

And one day, that might not hurt so badly.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Cary singsonged as he yanked the comforter off of me.

“Ugh. Go away.”

“You’ve got five minutes to get your ass up and in the shower, or the shower’s coming to you.”

Opening one eye, I peeked at him. He was shirtless and wearing baggy pants that barely clung to his hips. As far as wake-up calls went, he was prime. “Why do I have to get up?”

“Because when you’re flat on your back you’re not on your feet.”

“Wow. That was deep, Cary Taylor.”

He crossed his arms and shot me an arch look. “We need to go shopping.”

I buried my face in the pillow. “No.”

“Yes. I seem to remember you saying this was a ‘Sunday garden party’ and ‘rock star gathering’ in the same sentence. What the hell do I wear to something like that?”

“Ah, well. Good point.”

“What are you wearing?”

“I…I don’t know. I was leaning toward the ‘English tea with hat’ look, but now I’m not so sure.”

He gave a brisk nod. “Right. Let’s hit the shops and find something sexy, classy, and cool.”

Growling a token protest, I rolled out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. It was impossible to shower without thinking of Lauren, without picturing her perfect body and remembering the desperate sounds she made when she came in my mouth. Everywhere I looked, Lauren was there. I’d even started hallucinating black Bentley SUVs all around town. I thought I spotted one damn near everywhere I went.

Cary and I had lunch; then we bounced all over the city, hitting the best of the Upper East Side thrift stores and Madison Avenue boutiques before taking a taxi downtown to SoHo. Along the way, Cary had two teenage girls ask for his autograph, which tickled me more than him, I think.

“Told you,” he crowed.

“Told me what?”

“They recognized me from an entertainment news blog. One of the posts about you and Jauregui.”

I snorted. “Glad my love life is working out for someone.”

He was due at another job around three and I went with him, spending a few hours in the studio of a loud and brash photographer. Remembering it was Saturday, I slipped into a far corner and made my weekly call to my dad.

“You still happy in New York?” he asked me above the background noise of dispatch talking over the radio in his cruiser.

“So far so good.” A lie, but the truth helped no one.

His partner said something I didn’t catch. My dad snorted and said, “Hey, Chris insists he saw you on television the other day. Some cable channel, celebrity gossip thing. The guys won’t leave me alone about it.”

I sighed. “Tell them watching those shows is bad for their brain cells.”

“So you’re not dating one of the richest people in America?”

“No. What about your love life?” I asked, quickly diverting. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nothing serious. Hang on.” He responded to a call on the radio, then said, “Sorry, sweetheart. I have to run. I love you. Miss you like crazy.”

“I miss you, too, Daddy. Be careful.”

“Always. Bye.”

I killed the call and went back to my former spot to wait for Cary to wrap things up. In the lull, my mind tormented me. Where was Lauren now? What was she doing?

Would Monday bring me an inbox full of photos of her with another woman?

____

Sunday afternoon I borrowed Clancy and one of Stanton’s town cars for the drive out to the Vidal estate in Dutchess County. Leaning back in the seat, I looked out the window, absently admiring the serene vista of rolling meadows and green woodlands that stretched to the distant horizon. I realized I was working on Day 4 After Lauren. The pain I’d felt the first few days had turned into a dull throbbing that felt almost like the flu. Every part of my body ached, as if I was going through some sort of physical withdrawal and my throat burned with unshed tears.

“Are you nervous?” Cary asked me.

I glanced at him. “Not really. Lauren won’t be there.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“I wouldn’t be going if I thought otherwise. I do have some pride you know.” I watched him drum his fingers on the armrest between our two seats. For all the shopping we’d done yesterday, he’d made only one purchase: a black leather tie. I’d teased him mercilessly about it, he of the perfect fashion sense going with something like that.

He caught me looking at it. “What? You still don’t like my tie? I think it works well with the emo jeans and my lounge lizard jacket.”

“Cary”—my lips quirked—“you can wear anything.”

It was true. Cary could pull any look off, a benefit of having a sculpted rangy body and a face that could make angels weep.

I set my hand over his restless fingers. “Are you nervous?”

“Trey didn’t call last night,” he muttered. “He said he would.”

I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s just one missed call, Cary. I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything serious.”

“He could’ve called this morning,” he argued. “Trey’s not flakey like the others I’ve dated. He wouldn’t have forgotten to call, which means he just doesn’t want to.”

“The rat bastard. I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures of you having a great time looking sexy, classy, and cool to torment him with on Monday.”

His mouth twitched. “Ah, the deviousness of the female mind. It’s a shame Jauregui won’t see you today. I think I got a semi when you came out of your room in that dress.”

“Eww!” I smacked his shoulder and mock-glared when he laughed.

The dress had seemed perfect to both of us when we’d found it. It was cut in a classic garden party style—fitted bodice with a knee-length skirt that flared out from the waist. It was even white with flowers. But that’s where the tea-and-crumpets style ended.

The edginess came from the strapless form, the alternating layers of black and crimson satin underskirts that gave it volume, and the black leather flowers that looked like wicked pinwheels. Cary had picked the red Jimmy Choo peep-toe pumps out of my closet and the ruby drop earrings to give it all the finishing touch. We’d decided to leave my hair loose around my shoulders, in case we arrived and learned that hats were required. All in all, I felt pretty and confident.

Clancy drove us through an imposing set of monogrammed gates and turned into a circular driveway, following the direction of a valet. Cary and I got out by the entrance, and he took my arm as my heels sank into blue-gray gravel on the walk to the house.

Upon entering the Vidal’s sprawling Tudor-style mansion, we were warmly greeted by lauren’s family in a receiving line—her mother, stepfather, Christopher, and their sister.

I took in the sight, thinking the Vidal family could only look more perfect if Lauren was lined up with them. Her mother and sister had her coloring, both women boasting the same glossy obsidian hair and thickly-lashed green eyes. They were both beautiful in a finely wrought way.

“Camila!” Lauren’s mother drew me toward her, then air-kissed both of my cheeks. “I’m so pleased to finally meet you. What a gorgeous girl you are! And your dress. I love it.”

“Thank you.”

Her hands brushed over my hair, cupped my face, and then slid down my arms. It was hard for me to bear it, because touching was sometimes an anxiety trigger for me when the person was a stranger. “Your hair, is it naturally brunette?”

“Yes,” I replied, startled and confused by the question. Who asked a question like that of a stranger?

“How fascinating. Well, welcome. I hope you have a wonderful time. We’re so glad you could make it.”

Feeling strangely unsettled, I was grateful when her attention moved to Cary and zeroed in.

“And you must be Cary,” she crooned. “Here I’d been certain my three children were the most attractive in the world. I see I was wrong about that. You are simply divine, young man.”

Cary flashed his megawatt smile. “Ah, I think I’m in love, Mrs. Vidal.”

she laughed with throaty delight. “Please. Call me Elizabeth. Or Lizzie, if you’re brave enough.”

Looking away, I found my hand clasped by Christopher Vidal Senior. In many ways, he reminded me of his son, with his slate green eyes and boyish smile. In others, he was a pleasant surprise. Dressed in khakis, loafers, and a cashmere cardigan, he looked more like a college professor than a music company executive.

“Camila. May I call you Camila?”

“Please do.”

“Call me Chris. It makes it a little easier to distinguish between me and Christopher.” His head tilted to the side as he contemplated me through quirky brass spectacles. “I can see why Lauren is so taken with you. Your eyes are a deep chocolate brown, yet they’re so clear and direct. Quite the most beautiful eyes I think I’ve ever seen, aside from my wife’s.”

I flushed. “Thank you.”

“Is Lauren coming?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Why didn’t her parents know the answer to that question?

“We always hope.” He gestured at a waiting servant. “Please head back to the gardens and make yourself at home.”

Christopher greeted me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, while lauren’s sister Ireland sized me up in a sulky way that only a teenager could pull off. “You’re a brunette,” she said.

Jeez. Was lauren’s preference for light-haired women a damn law or something? “And you’re a very lovely brunette.”

Cary offered me his arm and I accepted it gratefully.

As we walked away, he asked me quietly, “Were they what you expected?”

“Her mom, maybe. Her stepdad, no.” I looked back over my shoulder, taking in the elegant floor-length cream sheath dress that clung to Elizabeth Vidal’s svelte figure. I thought of what little I knew about Lauren’s family. “How does a girl grow up to be a businesswoman who takes over her stepfather’s family business?”

“Jauregui owns shares in Vidal Records?”

“Controlling interest.”

“Hmm. Maybe it was a bailout?” he offered. “A helping hand during a trying time for the music industry?”

“Why not just give him the money?” I wondered.

“Because she’s a shrewd businesswoman?”

With a sharp exhalation, I waved the question away and cleared my mind. I was attending the party for Cary, not Lauren, and I was going to keep that first and foremost in my thoughts.

Once we’d moved outside, we found a large, elaborately decorated marquee erected in the rear garden. Although the day was beautiful enough to stay out in the sun, I found a seat at a circular table covered in white damask instead.

Cary patted my shoulder. “You relax. I’ll network.”

“Go get ’em.”

He moved away, intent on his agenda.

I sipped champagne and chatted with everyone who stopped by to strike up a conversation. There were a lot of recording artists at the party whose work I listened to, and I watched them covertly, a bit starstruck. For all the elegance of the surroundings and the endless number of servants, the overall vibe was casual and relaxed.

I was starting to enjoy myself when someone I’d hoped never to see again stepped out of the house onto the terrace: Magdalene Perez, looking phenomenal in a rose-hued chiffon gown that floated around her knees.

A hand settled on my shoulder and squeezed, setting my heart racing because it reminded me of the night Cary and I had gone to lauren’s club. But the figure that rounded me this time was Christopher.

“Hey, Camila.” He took the chair next to mine and set his elbows on his knees, leaning toward me. “Are you having fun? You’re not mingling much.”

“I’m having a great time.” At least I had been. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming. My parents are stoked you’re here. Me, too, of course.” His grin made me smile, as did his tie, which had cartoon vinyl records all over it. “Are you hungry? The crab cakes are great. Grab one when the tray comes by.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Let me know if you need anything. And save a dance for me.” He winked, and then hopped up and away.

Ireland took his seat, arranging herself with the practiced grace of a finishing school graduate. Her hair fell in a single length to her waist and her beautiful eyes were direct in a way I could appreciate. she looked worldlier than her seventeen years. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“Where’s Lauren?”

I shrugged at the blunt question. “I’m not sure.”

she nodded sagely. “she’s good at being a loner.”

“Has she always been that way?”

“I guess. she moved out when I was little. Do you love her?”

My breath caught for a second. I released it in a rush and said simply, “Yes.”

“I thought so when I saw that video of you two in Bryant Park.” she bit her lush lower lip. “Is she fun? You know…to hang around with?”

“Oh. Well…” God. Did anyone know Lauren? “I wouldn’t say she’s fun, but she’s never boring.”

The live band began playing “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” and Cary appeared beside me as if by magic. “Time to make me look good, Ginger.”

“I’ll try my best, Fred.” I smiled at Ireland. “Excuse me a minute.”

“Three minutes, forty seconds,” she corrected, displaying some of her family’s expertise in music.

Cary led me onto the empty dance floor and pulled me into a swift foxtrot. It took me a minute to get into it, because I’d been stiff and tight with misery for days. Then the synergy of longtime partners kicked in and we glided across the floor with sweeping steps.

When the singer’s voice faded with the music, we stopped, breathless. We were pleasantly surprised by applause. Cary gave an elegant bow and I held on to his hand for stability as I dipped into a curtsy.

When I lifted my head and straightened, I found Lauren standing in front of me. Startled, I stumbled back a step. she was seriously underdressed in jeans and an untucked white dress shirt that was open at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves, but she was so damn fine she still put every other woman in attendance to shame.

The tremendous yearning I felt at the sight of her overwhelmed me. Distantly I was aware of the band’s singer pulling Cary away, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Lauren, whose wildly green eyes burned into mine.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped, scowling.

I recoiled from her harshness. “Excuse me?”

“You shouldn’t be here.” she grabbed me by the elbow and started hauling me toward the house. “I don’t want you here.”

If she’d spit in my face, it couldn’t have devastated me more. I yanked my arm free of her and walked briskly toward the house with my head held high, praying I could make it to the privacy of the town car and Clancy’s protective watch before the tears started falling.

Behind me, I heard a come-hither female voice call out lauren’s name and I sent up a prayer that the woman would stall her long enough for me to get out without further confrontation.

I thought I just might make it when I passed into the cool interior of the house.

“Camila, wait.”

My shoulders hunched at the sound of Lauren’s voice and I refused to look at her. “Get lost. I can show myself out.”

“I’m not done—”

“I am!” I pivoted to face her. “You don’t get to talk to me that way. Who do you think you are? You think I came here for you? That I was hoping I’d see you and you’d throw me a goddamn scrap or bone…some pathetic acknowledgment of my existence? Maybe I’d be able to harass you into a quick, dirty fuck in a corner somewhere in a pitiful effort to win you back?”

“Shut up, Camila.” Her gaze was scorching hot, her jaw tight and hard. “Listen to me—”

“I’m only here because I was told you wouldn’t be. I’m here for Cary and his career. So you can go back to the party and forget about me all over again. I assure you, when I walk out the door, I’ll be doing the same to you.”

“Shut your damned mouth.” she caught me by the elbows and shook me so hard my teeth snapped together. “Just shut up and let me talk.”

I slapped her hard enough to turn her head. “Don’t touch me.”

With a growl, Lauren hauled me into her and kissed me hard, bruising my lips. Her hand was in my hair, fisting it roughly, holding me in place so I couldn’t turn away. I bit the tongue she thrust aggressively into my mouth, then her lower lip, tasting blood, but she didn’t stop. I shoved at her shoulders with everything I had, but I couldn’t budge her.

Goddamn Stanton! If not for him and my crazy-assed mother, I’d have had a few Krav Maga classes under my belt by now…

Lauren kissed me as if she was starved for the taste of me and my resistance began to melt. she smelled so good, so familiar. Her body felt so perfectly right against mine. My nipples betrayed me, hardening into tight points, and a slow, hot trickle of arousal gathered in my core. My heart thundered in my chest.

God, I wanted her. The craving hadn’t gone away, not even for a minute.

she picked me up. Imprisoned by her tight grip, it was hard to breathe and my head began to spin. When she carried me through a door and kicked it shut behind her, I couldn’t do more than make a feeble sound of protest.

I found myself pressed against a heavy glass door on the other side of a library, lauren’s hard and powerful body subduing my own. Her arm at my waist slid lower, her hand delving beneath my skirts and finding the curves of my butt exposed by my lacy boy shorts underwear. she wrenched my hips hard to her, making me feel how hard she was, how aroused. My sex trembled with want, achingly empty.

All the fight left me. My arms fell to my sides, my palms pressing flat to the glass. I felt the brittle tension drain from her body as I softened in surrender, the pressure of her mouth easing and her kiss turning into a passionate coaxing.

“Camila,” she breathed gruffly. “Don’t fight me. I can’t take it.”

My eyes closed. “Let me go, Lauren.”

she nuzzled her cheek against mine, her breath gusting hard and fast over my ear. “I can’t. I know you’re disgusted by what you saw the other night…what I was doing to myself—”

“Lauren, no!” God. Did she think I left hee because of that? “That’s not why—”

“I’m losing my mind without you.” Her lips were gliding down my neck, her tongue stroking over my racing pulse. she sucked on my skin and pleasure radiated through me. “I can’t think. I can’t work or sleep. My body aches for you. I can make you want me again. Let me try.”

Tears slipped free and ran down my face. They splashed on the upper swell of my breasts and she licked at them, lapping them away.

How would I ever recover if she made love to me again? How would I survive if she didn’t?

“I never stopped wanting you,” I whispered. “I can’t stop. But you hurt me, Lauren. You have the power to hurt me like no one else can.”

Her gaze was stark and confused on my face. “I hurt you? How?”

“You lied to me. You shut me out.” I cupped her face, needing hero to understand this one thing without question. “Your past doesn’t have the power to push me away. Only you can do that, and you did.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” she rasped. “I never wanted you to see me like that…”

“That’s the problem, Lauren. I want to know who you are, the good and the bad, and you want to keep parts of yourself hidden from me. If you don’t open up, we’re going to lose each other down the road and I won’t be able to take it. I’m barely surviving it now. I’ve crawled through the last four days of my life. Another week, a month…It’ll break me to give you up.”

“I can let you in, Camila. I’m trying. But your first response when I screw up is to run away. You do it every time and I can’t stand feeling like any moment I’m going to do or say something wrong and you’re going to bolt.”

Her mouth was tender again as she brushed her lips back and forth over mine. I didn’t argue with her. How could I, when she was right?

“I hoped you’d come back on your own,” she murmured, “but I can’t stay away anymore. I’ll carry you out of here if I have to. Whatever it takes to get you back in the same room with me, talking this out.”

My heart stuttered. “You were hoping I’d come back? I thought…You gave me back my keys. I thought we were over.”

she pulled back, her face set in fierce lines. “We’ll never be over, Camila.”

I looked at her, my heart aching like an open wound at how beautiful she was, how broken and in pain she was—pain I’d caused to some degree.

On tiptoes, I kissed the reddened handprint I’d left on her cheek, clutching her thick silky hair in my hands.

Lauren bent her knees to align our bodies, her breathing harsh and erratic. “I’ll do whatever you want, whatever you need. Anything. Just take me back.”

Maybe I should have been scared by the depth of her need, but I felt the same passionate insanity for her.

Running my hands down her chest in an effort to soothe her trembling, I gave her the hard truth. “We can’t seem to stop making each other miserable. I can’t keep doing this to you and I can’t keep going through these crazy highs and lows. We need help, Lauren. We’re seriously dysfunctional.”

“I saw Dr. Petersen on Friday. He’s going to take me on as a patient, and—if you agree—he’ll take us both on as a couple. I figured if you can trust him, I can try.”

“Dr. Petersen?” I remembered the brief jolt I’d felt at seeing a black Bentley SUV when Clancy pulled away from the doctor’s office. At the time, I’d told myself it was wishful thinking. After all, there were countless black SUVs in New York. “You had me followed.”

Her chest expanded on a deep breath. she didn’t deny it.

I bit back my anger. I could only imagine how terrible it must be for her to be so dependent on something—someone—she couldn’t control. What mattered most at that moment were her willingness to try and the fact that it wasn’t just talk. she’d actually taken steps. “It’s going to be a lot of work, Lauren,” I warned her.

“I’m not afraid of work.” she was touching me restlessly, her hands sliding over my thighs and buttocks as if caressing my bare skin was as necessary to her as breathing. “I’m only afraid of losing you.”

I pressed my cheek to her. We completed each other. Even now, as her hands roamed possessively over me, I felt a thawing in my soul, the desperate relief of being held—finally—by the woman who understood and satisfied my deepest, most intimate desires.

“I need you.” Her mouth was sliding over my cheek and down my throat. “I need to be inside you…”

“No. My God. Not here.” But my protest sounded weak even to my own ears. I wanted her anywhere, anytime, any way…

“It has to be here,” she muttered, dropping to her knees. “It has to be now.”

she chafed my skin ripping the lace of my panties away; then she shoved my skirts to my waist and licked my cleft, her tongue parting my folds to stroke over my throbbing clit.

I gasped and tried to recoil, but there was nowhere to go. Not with the door at my back and a grimly determined Lauren in front, one hand keeping me pinned while the other lifted my left leg over her shoulder, opening me to her ardent mouth.

My head thudded against the glass, heat pulsing through my blood from the point where her tongue was driving me mad. My leg flexed against her back, urging her closer, my hands cupping her head to hold her still as I rocked into her. Feeling the rough satin strands of her hair against my sensitive inner thighs was its own provocation, heightening my awareness of everything around me…

We were in Lauren’s parents’ house, in the midst of a party attended by dozens of famous people, and she was on her knees, growling her hunger as she licked and sucked my slick, aching cleft. she knew just how to get to me, knew what I liked and needed. she had an understanding of my nature that went above and beyond her incredible oral skills. The combination was devastating and addicting.

My body shook, my eyelids heavy from the illicit pleasure. “Lauren…You make me come so hard.”

Her tongue rubbed over and over the clenching entrance to my body, teasing me, making me grind shamelessly into her working mouth. Her hands cupped my bare butt, kneading, urging me onto her tongue as she thrust it inside me. There was reverence in the greedy way she enjoyed me, the unmistakable sense that she worshipped my body, that pleasuring it and taking pleasure from it was as vital to her as the blood in her veins.

“Yes,” I hissed, feeling the orgasm building. I was buzzed by champagne and the heated scent of Lauren’s skin mixed with my own arousal. My breasts strained within the increasingly too-tight confines of my strapless bra, my body trembling on the edge of a desperately needed orgasm. “I’m so close.”

A movement on the far side of the room caught my eye and I froze, my gaze locking with Magdalene’s. she stood just inside the door, halted midstride, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the back of Lauren’s moving head.

But she was either oblivious or too impassioned to care. Her lips circled my clit and her cheeks hallowed. Sucking rhythmically, she massaged the hypersensitive knot with the tip of her tongue.

Everything tightened viciously, then released in a fiery burst of pleasure.

The orgasm poured through me in a scorching wave. I cried out, pumping my hips mindlessly into her mouth, lost to the primal connection between us. Lauren held me up as my knees weakened, tonguing my quivering flesh until the last tremor faded.

When I opened my eyes again, our audience of one had fled.

Standing in a rush Lauren picked me up and carried me to the couch. she dropped me lengthwise on the cushion; then hauled my hips up to rest on the armrest, arching my spine.

I eyed her up the length of my torso. Why not just fold me over and fuck me from behind?

Then she ripped open her button-fly and pulled her big, beautiful penis out, and I didn’t care how she took me just so long as she did. I whimpered as she shoved into me, my body struggling to accommodate the wonderful fullness I craved. Yanking my hips to meet her powerful thrusts, Lauren battered my tender sex with that brutally thick column of rigid flesh, her gaze dark and possessive, her breath leaving her in primitive grunts every time she hit the end of me.

A trembling moan left me, the friction of her drives stirring my never-sated need to be fucked senseless by her. Only her.

A handful of strokes and her head fell back as she gasped my name, her hips rolling to stir me into a frenzy. “Squeeze me, Camila. Squeeze my dick.”

When I complied, the ragged sound she made was so erotic my sex trembled in appreciation. “Yeah, angel…just like that.”

I tightened around her and she cursed. Her gaze found mine, the stunning green hazed with sexual euphoria. A convulsive shudder wracked her powerful frame, followed by an agonized sound of ecstasy. Her cock jerked inside me, once, twice, and then she was coming long and hard, spurting hotly into the clutching depths of my body.

I didn’t have time to climax again, but it didn’t matter. I watched her with awe and pure female triumph. I could do this to her.

In the moments of orgasm, I owned her as completely as she owned me.

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lovelylogans · 5 years

Text

where you lead, i will follow

previous chapter / chapter six / next chapter

start from the beginning!

ao3 | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: food mentions, complicated parental relationships, mentions of transphobia and homophobia, verbal fighting, top surgery mention, classism,

pairings: moxiety, logince

words: 5,414

logan's second birthday is altogether a bit noisier, a lot less well-dressed, and with much better food.

patton sends logan out to harass rudy (well, he mentioned maybe going to hang out with roman or talking to rudy, and picking at the errors in the courant won out when rudy managed to misspell something on the front page again) and virgil comes over to help patton decorate, toting the materials he needs to cook/already prepped food from the diner.

"what was his face like, last night?" virgil asks, as he's onto patton's ploy.

"confused," patton says, pleased with himself. "i really think i got him this year, v."

"it is a pretty good plan you came up with."

"hey, you helped too. you have, like. split custody of the plan. we communally raised this plan."

like the person the plan's for, patton thinks, but virgil's cheeks have gone red so he probably gets what patton's hinting at here.

but anyway, they prep the food and douse the house in streamers and patton nearly forgets until—

"oh god."

"what?" virgil says. "we didn't forget anything, we checked twice. but maybe—"

"no, no, not that, it's just," patton says, and chews at the inside of his cheek. "i might have tipsily invited my parents over to the party tonight."

"oh," virgil says.

"i—they've never been to the house before. the inn, a few times, when logan was a baby. the town square, that once. but never the house."

"that's... big," virgil says cautiously.

patton blows out a long breath. "yeah."

"should i...?"

"no way," patton says immediately. "you're staying. you're a part of logan's life too and i need someone to help my frayed nerves."

if your parents and i fight it'll do a lot more than fray your nerves, virgil thinks, but doesn't say. instead, he says, "do we need, like. a plan? backup plan? multiple back up plans?"

patton shakes his head, flattens his hands on the kitchen table. "i just—this is big," he repeats.

"yeah," virgil says.

"it's probably a while coming," patton says, and chews the inside of his cheek some more. "and it's been going so well lately."

"it'll be fine," virgil says lamely, as if he isn't mentally calculating every way this can possibly go wrong, and a few ways it can't.

"right," patton says, and blows out a forceful breath. "right, right. okay," he says, and claps his hands. "crisis over, time to hang up space-themed banners."

they do, and by the time patton's finishing affixing glow-in-the-dark stars to the ceiling guests are starting to trickle in—roman, who is also in on the plan, first—and patton gets some (logan-approved) music on, and then he kind of loses himself in greeting the citizens of sideshire that he and logan spend the most time with and get along with best.

logan and rudy walk in, to cheers, and patton surreptitiously checks his watch. 7:01. his parents are almost never late. he gets a drink for rudy instead of thinking about it.

logan's staring, eagle-eyed, at the pile of presents that's accrued by the fireplace. roman, cheerfully, is running interference to keep him from going over to shake them, or discreetly peel back a corner of wrapping paper to examine it, or—

roman's running interference, anyway.

someone rings the bell. patton jolts for the door, because there is one person (two people) who would ring the bell for a party in sideshire.

"mom, dad!" he says, smiling, conscious of the fact that he's in a sweater and jeans, casual in a way he basically never lets himself be at their house. he refuses the urge to start adjusting everything to make sure it’s all neat and tidy. "glad you could make it, come on in."

"traffic really is dreadful between our houses," emily says, and they file in.

"grandma, grandpa," logan says, rising from the couch, and suffering through the hugs he receives.

"grandma, look," he adds, and holds out his wrist to display the watch patton had helped emily pick out for him, the one with the galaxy-studded background that reminds patton of the opening theme of doctor who.

"why, it looks lovely," she says, sounding a little surprised that something that cost $13 could possibly look lovely.

"um, everyone," patton says, "these are my parents, emily and richard sanders. mom, dad, this is... everyone."

"hi," the room choruses.

"hello," richard says back.

"i'm emile," says emile picani, local therapist who had helped patton through a number of dilemmas free of charge back in the day, offering the first hand to shake. "we love your son and grandson."

"thank you," emily says.

"they're like our own belle and maurice!"

"without the beast, i'd hope, i don't want my son taken prisoner," patton intercedes, smiling at emile. "mom, dad, can i get you a drink?"

"stoli on the rocks with a twist," emily says.

"right," patton says, and escapes back in the kitchen, mouthing an exaggerated THEY'RE HERE at virgil as he does.

"how's logan?"

"happy," patton says.

"well, that's something," virgil says with a sigh.

"you'll be nice, won't you?"

"i will if they will," virgil grumbles.

"okay, well, their version of nice is different from my version of nice, so—"

"patton, i just tried some of these hors d'ouevres, they're unbelievable," emily announces, bursting into the kitchen. "who is your caterer?"

patton jabs a thumb toward virgil. "you've met him, actually."

she looks abruptly put out that she's complimented him. "ah."

"hi, mrs. sanders," virgil says. he only sounds a little stiff.

"we eat at virgil's practically every day," patton continues.

"something healthy, i hope."

"not if patton was in charge of it," virgil mutters, and patton "accidentally" jabs him in the ribs with a playful little glower.

inexplicably, emily smiles. "he always had a terrible sweet tooth."

"mom," patton groans.

"i have to sneak him his vegetables in a smoothie every morning," virgil says, cautiously friendly.

"virgil!"

"ah. it was waffles, for us."

"it was—wait, what?" patton says, blindsided by this revelation.

"we used to instruct the chefs to sneak vegetables in your waffles for years," emily says. "you never noticed there were seeds in your syrup?"

"okay, first of all, i was nine, second of all, you said they were maple seeds!"

"patton," virgil says, trying not to laugh.

"that's what they were?" patton demands. "i thought it was just that you had really fancy maple syrup or something!"

"patton," richard says, walking into the kitchen, "your fireplace doesn't look structurally sound, i have someone you can call to inspect it—"

"i'll get right on that, dad," patton promises, and passes over the drinks he's poured for them. "come on, we shouldn't all be hiding back here, it's a party!"

"once these are out of the oven," virgil says, and patton sighs but accepts it. not much of a party guy, his virgil. he'll let him have his introvert time but eventually he will come back in here and drag him out to sit in a corner by remy aserinsky, local café owner, supplier of coffee beans to the inn and the diner, and source of an slightly joking, intensely confusing feud with virgil that patton has no hope of tracking, even after almost exactly sixteen years of living in sideshire. (three more weeks, to the anniversary. he and logan and virgil have a little celebration about it.)

"let me know when they're done?" patton requests. "i'll plate them and bring them out."

"sure," virgil says absently, already moving on to prep the next thing. patton squeezes his shoulder, but drifts after his parents to head into the living room.

it's like a veritable merry-go-round of patton introducing people to his parents—or, well, a line actually kind of forms for people to shake their hands, his parents looking increasingly bemused with each. it ends up in a kind of pattern—people shake hands with his parents, wish his son happy birthday, split off into corners of the room to get food or drinks, and then find a place to settle.

"i'm larry, and this is my wife, dot, we live right across the street. such a good pair those are, nothing like my days back with pop-pop..."

"...taylor doose, grocer. very nice to meet you, it must have taken quite the pair to raise someone like your son, such a good man. i hope you're proud of him, we certainly all are...."

"...sookie st. james, i'm the chef at the inn, i really cannot tell you how much i love working for your son, best boss i've ever had, and logan's so smart when it comes to food combinations..."

"...jackson melville. no, taylor, i really think she's more of a meryl streep than a julie andrews, but of course—ow, you don't need to kick me!..."

"...babette dell, and this is morey, and this is our sweet little baby cinnamon." (patton cannot help but reach out to pet and coo at cinnamon, even if he sneezes immediately. stupid allergies.) "we're their neighbors, just on the left side. oh, morey, do you remember the time that logan decided our old tree stump was gonna to be a lightning rod? used to sit in the rain until patton would herd him back inside and even then he'd be glued to the window, waiting, he was such a cute little thing, always running experiments on the plants in our garden, and patton always tagged along as his lab assistant, kept helping us replant anything that got uprooted..."

eventually, patton ducks out of the receiving line. logan looks after him, and he's been splitting his gaze between people greeting him and his pile of presents. patton can't help but wiggle a little bit in glee as he enters the kitchen. logan has no idea.

"those done yet?"

"just about," virgil says. "how're things, out there?"

patton grins. "my parents are being thrown straight into the deep end of the people of sideshire."

"they met ms. prince yet?"

patton's grin widens. "nope."

virgil snorts. "well, good luck to them," he says, and turns back to the oven right as the timer starts beeping, tugging on a pair of oven mitts to pull out the latest batch of jam tarts, before plopping them all onto a wire rack to cool.

"this is the last thing, right?" patton asks, sidling up beside him.

"should be," virgil says. "we've got these, the hors d'ouevres are out, we've got chips and dip, we've got dinner, we've got dessert..."

"then i pronounce you done," patton declares. "thanks for being my caterer."

"i can't believe your mom actually liked my cooking," virgil says.

"well, it's probably genetic," patton decides. "sanders loving your cooking, i mean. logan does, my mom does, i do..."

virgil smiles at him, and it strikes patton very suddenly how close they're standing, without a counter or a table to separate them, the way it always does when they stand like this. so much of their lives are spent divided by a counter, or by patton sitting in a booth, and when they’re together like this, in a space away from everyone watching, in a space where it’s just them...

"plus you're a good cook," patton adds, forging valiantly ahead, trying to make his heart not react.

"am i?"

"the best," patton amends. "the best cook."

virgil's smile quirks at the corners, turns a little sweeter, a little shier, and patton's failed remarkably at making his heart not react.

"well," he says, a little gruff. "thanks. i guess."

"you're welcome, i guess," patton teases back. "we should head out into the living room, i bet logan's practically foaming at the mouth to open presents."

"i want to see the look on his face," virgil says, and double-checks that the oven's off (a habit) before following after.

logan does indeed look about five minutes away from foaming at the mouth. the receiving line's faded, and his parents are floating about the corners of the room—his dad looks like he's about five seconds from bolting, which patton gets, and goes to tug a little at his suit sleeve.

"here," he says, and presents him with a copy of the latest tabloid that taylor doose stocks at the grocery store. "i know it's not exactly national geographic, but there is a story in here about how people who are trying to help climate change are actually shape-shifting reptilian aliens who want to destroy all life on the planet."

richard blinks at it. "logan allows you to have this?"

"logan buys them," patton says with a laugh. "or at least, he makes a beeline for them when we're getting groceries and reads the headlines and gets increasingly gleeful with outrage, so i have to buy it for him, so he can rip it apart without holding up the line."

"ah," he says, and takes it. "well, thank you."

patton refills his drink, before he claps his hands to silence the party, and declares, "presents time!"

logan brightens, straightening up. roman's about to get up to grab his present, but patton wags a finger at him, mockingly stern.

"uh-uh, young man. you're last."

"but—"

"do you remember what happened last time you went first?" patton says, because he sure does. "you go last."

roman slumps back into the couch, mock-disappointed, and emile fetches his present for logan instead.

logan is delighted. logan gets to guess what his presents are (90% of the time, he's right, and 100% of the time, he's at least close enough that he isn't actually very wrong at all) and rip up a bunch of fancily-wrapped paper and monologue at length about it. patton's getting pretty delighted himself, because logan still doesn't suspect a thing.

the presents pile has dwindled down, and it's now the order of people that it's settled into for years.

rudy grunts from the corner, and hands over a tiny box to logan. logan frowns at it, and then at rudy.

"you never get me anything physical," he says, which is true. the usual gift from rudy is a story pitch of logan's choice that he can run on the front page. last year, he'd managed a profile of a chemist at the local state university who'd won some prize or other, and patton had been walking into recreations of experiments on his kitchen table for weeks.

"well, special circumstances," he says, and patton readies his camera, like he's been doing for all the presents.

logan rips off the paper, opens the box, and stares down at it, and then up at rudy, and then down at it again, before lifting up the professional blue lanyard.

"is this—?" logan breathes.

"press pass," rudy rumbles. "it's about time you stop heckling me to do more stories at the state level and do them yourself."

logan cradles the id in his hands, flipping it over to look at the photo—and then he looks to patton, because he surely recognizes where rudy would have gotten a photo from.

"now that you have a driver's license, i figured it would only be fair," patton says. "as long as you don't let it interfere with your schoolwork, which i know you won't, and as long as you don't become a total workaholic, i think you can ask me if you can take the car to run up to the capital if there's breaking news, don't you?"

a massive grin splits over logan's face, and—

"really?!"

"really really," patton promises.

"there's a press conference on monday afternoon, if you're free," rudy begins.

"yes!" logan exclaims. "yes, i'm free, what's the conference about—?"

"i'm forwarding the pr release now," rudy says.

logan's cradling the press id, and slings the lanyard around his neck, like he doesn't want to lose it.

"okay," virgil says, and nudges over a fairly sizeable box. logan gives him a curious look, but reaches over to take it, ripping the star-dotted paper.

he unearths a lamp that displays constellations around the room, and a leather bomber jacket covered with space patches: nasa and galaxies and one little “i want to believe” patch. it’s hand-stitched, but, well. of course it is.

"cool," roman declares, then seems to remember who it's from and coughs. "um, i mean—"

"no take-backs, it's cool," virgil says smugly, as logan's shrugging it on, and smooths over the collar, tugging his press id so it's still front and center. it does look cool. a perfect balance between nerdy and cool.

logan smiles at virgil, just a little—the fact that virgil’s the closest thing that logan has to another dad has been an unspoken truth between them for years, now—and virgil clears his throat, trying his hardest not to look emotional.

“yeah, happy birthday, kid,” virgil says gruffly, and logan’s smile widens.

"we should plug this in," logan declares, holding up the lamp.

"not yet," patton chides gently, "you've still got a couple to go."

logan frowns. "no, just roman's. rudy, virgil, you, then roman. but you've already given me my—"

but he falls silent to see emile and remy carting in two boxes, and—

logan's jaw has fallen open. patton snaps a picture.

"you," he begins, and then, "you—"

"i got you!" patton bursts out gleefully. "for the first time in sixteen years, i have managed to get you!"

logan's jaw is still hanging.

"you didn't really think i'd just get you a puzzle, did you?" patton teases him gently, taking the larger of the boxes and setting it in front of logan.

"you," he says, stunned, "tricked me."

"i did," patton says. "i got a decoy present and i hid the real presents at the prince's apartment—"

logan swivels to glower accusingly at roman, who snickers, holding up his hands.

"—and i got you," patton finishes.

"i," logan says, and then, "i'm—"

"are you mad?" patton checks, suddenly worried that he's pulled one over on his son, and logan doesn't like being made a fool of, but he wasn't trying to do that he was just trying to surprise him, nicely, and logan—

logan just grins at him.

"you've finally managed subtlety for once in your life," logan declares. "i never thought i'd see the day. at last i have taught you something."

"hey," patton chides, but he can't help but laugh. "it might be your birthday, but that doesn't mean you can't get grounded."

logan scoffs and the rest of the room laughs.

"i could!" patton says defensively.

"that boy's never been able to stay in trouble with you more than a day in his life," babette says in the corner.

patton turns to virgil for someone on his team, but he just shrugs, putting his hands up in a don't look at me kind of way.

"fine, i'm a softie," patton declares, "but one who managed to surprise our own logan sanders, modern-day sherlock!"

there's a cheer. logan rolls his eyes at everyone in the room. (one man has escaped to the porch, and one woman is watching this display in the room, feeling very... thrown off.)

"open this one first," patton says, excitedly patting the box. for once, he has managed to surprise his son. he's absolutely over the moon (ba-dum-tsh!) with his success.

logan tears off the paper, and then he gapes at patton.

"no."

"yes."

"no!" logan says, tearing off the rest of the paper to stare in absolute delight at the telescope that patton's bought him—the one he'd gone on and on and on about when it first came out, excited over all the features and its capabilities.

"you like it?!"

"i love it!" logan says, so excited, so openly happy in a way he never lets himself be. patton's heart soars. "but it's way too expensive—"

"i know, that's what i told them," patton teases. "so i hunted until i got a discount."

"it's perfect," logan says lovingly, tracing his hands over the box, looking ready to cart it outside and set up shop to examine the constellations and ignore the rest of the party.

"you've still got another one from me," patton says, holding the smaller one forward. it's still pretty sizeable, but not to an absurd degree.

"dad, the telescope's already too much—"

"hey, it's your sixteenth birthday, that only happens once," patton scolds. "plus this one wasn't very expensive. c'mon, open it."

logan gives him a little smile—soft, private—and looks down, ripping open the paper to see the back of a frame for a poster. he flips it, and he stares.

"it's," patton begins. "it's the way the stars were in the sky, on your birthday. that morning, i mean, when you were born."

"dad," he says, soft, tracing the shiny silver lettering reading november third, the year of his birth, the astrological details of the placement of the moon and the sun, the shiny little five-pointed stars connected into constellations.

"happy birthday, kiddo," patton says. "eight."

logan's lip twitches up. "sixteen," he breathes back, and patton ruffles his hair, just a little, before he backs up closer to the wall makes a gesture at the rest of the room.

"and now, what we've all been waiting for," patton says, and begins a drumroll on his thighs. the rest of the room echoes it. roman hands over his box with a flourish, and logan tears open the paper eagerly.

"what's all this?" a familiar voice asks, and patton nearly jumps. he'd almost forgotten his mother was here.

"roman's present," patton says, in an undertone, but can't explain anymore because logan's lifting the lid off the box eagerly, unearthing a massive, massive sheath of paper. the cover of the book is decorated with roman's lurid doodles of stars, and galaxies, and what look like the gears of a watch, and stickers plastered over any available space.

"doctor who?!" logan says eagerly, and looks up at roman. "you wrote me into doctor who?!!?"

"i did," roman says. "you're a companion."

"with which doctor?"

"please, i know your passionate opinions about the benefits and drawbacks of each doctor better than that. all of new who, obviously, with cameos from the old ones."

logan beams at him, and cradles the papers in his arms, hugging them close to his chest, like it's something precious, something to be savored. and he does: logan has a space on his shelf saved for the birthday stories of years past. roman has to go last for presents, because logan will start reading the story right then and just about ignores all his other presents to get to the end so he can babble happily about it with roman.

logan's staring down at the papers, and roman's staring at him, wide-eyed, like he's seeing an eclipse, or a blood moon, or a meteor shower, or something equally cosmic and amazing, something that you only get the chance to see only every so often and something so beautiful that it stuns you, makes you think about the whole wide universe and everything that is and was and ever will be and how lucky you are to see this, this precise moment.

"what," his mother says, and she narrows her eyes suspiciously at them. even a totally oblivious stranger could see it then, at that moment, and emily sanders is not a totally oblivious stranger. "are they—"

patton taps his finger to his lips, eyes twinkling. later, he mouths at her, and she shuts her mouth grudgingly.

"hang on," virgil says, because he knows that the best way to keep logan from getting completely engrossed in the birthday story is to interfere before he can read it. "hang on, cake!"

"cake," logan says, distracted, and tears his eyes up away from the cover page. roman, similarly, tears his eyes off logan. "right, cake."

virgil ducks into the kitchen, and emerges carrying the traditional cake, stuck with sixteen lit candles, and sets it carefully before logan. patton switches off the lights and takes in a deep breath, and logan only pulls a little face that somehow seems magnified by the light of the candles, the only thing in the room ignited.

"happy birthday to you," the room sings, "happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear, looo-gaaan... happy birthday to you!"

logan huffs a breath, then another one, and patton flips the lights back on as everyone cheers.

"okay, first cut," virgil says, handing over a knife.

"then toast," patton says, "then you can escape to a corner and read your story."

logan smiles at him and cuts himself a large slice, before passing the knife back to virgil so he can distribute the cake equally.

once everyone who wants a slice has got a slice, patton calls out, "okay, everyone, attention please!"

the room quiets.

"okay, i'll keep it short, because we all know how amazing virgil's cake is," patton says. "and technically someone stole the birthday toast on logan's actual birthday this year."

roman grins at him sheepishly.

"so i would like to propose a little toast to the one thing in my life that is always good, always smart, and always eager to take on the whole world. without him, i don't know what my reason would be to get up in the morning. my kiddo, logan. cheers."

"cheers!"

"and now in honor of this very special boy, i invite you all to dig in!" patton declares, and people split off into their own conversations, chattering away.

when the attention's surely off him, logan leans in to hug patton briefly before sliding off the couch to sit in a quiet corner with roman, eating cake and commenting aloud on the story, and patton rolls his eyes fondly at virgil.

he also notices that someone is not standing where she was before—and that that someone is climbing the stairs. patton follows after.

he turns a corner into his room to see his mother, holding up a quilt.

"i made that."

"really?"

"from logan's old baby clothes."

"how nice," she says, blankly, then, "that's quite an assortment of characters you've assembled down there."

"they're great people," patton says affectionately. "i really lucked out on living here, mom."

"that prince boy," emily says. "are they dating?"

"ah," patton says, and sits on the bed, shooting a discreet look out into the hall, before looking up at his mother with the distinct air of someone telling a secret. "no, but—and don't breathe a word to logan that i'm telling you about any of this."

she nods.

"no, they aren't dating, but logan's had the biggest crush on him. for ages."

"really?" she says, even more blankly.

"really," patton says. "i think logan's been in love with him since they were little, and roman's just as hopeless about it."

"really?"

"really," patton repeats, and sighs. "but roman went out and got himself a boyfriend, just last month. asked me about advice, actually, he said that he feels like he shouldn't wait around for logan to maybe like him back when someone he could grow to really like was right there, wanting him, and making moves to want him."

"what did you say?"

patton sighs even more. "i told him that he should have fun and to be careful, and to call me if he did anything that made him uncomfortable."

"did he?"

"he fell asleep without going home," patton says.

"he what?!"

"literally fell asleep, nothing else," patton says hastily, "but that's not like it particularly endeared anyone to that boy, i'm telling you."

"you don't like him?"

"he's part of the reason roman broke my son's heart for the first time, so no, i don't like him. and he..." patton hesitates, huffs out a breath. "you're going to be so smug about this."

"about what?"

"he reminds me," patton says, scowling just a little, "of those boys you always tried to warn me off of, and now that i'm a parent, i don't like them, either."

emily smiles, and patton waves a hand.

"i know, i know, you were right, et cetera, but. that's the situation with roman and logan."

"hm," emily says. then she says, “why were you and logan talking about numbers? when you gave him his present.”

“have we never done that in front of you before?” patton asks, distracted.

“obviously not.”

“huh, i guess. but, um, you know logan’s not the most effusive kid, and i’m a pretty effusive parent. so we made a code so that we could have the best of both worlds in public—i could tell logan i love him without embarrassing him, he could tell me he loved me back without admitting to feeling an emotion.”

“why those numbers, though?”

“there’s eight letters in i love you. and i love you too seems to imply multiplying by two, so—sixteen. eight, sixteen. just some sanders shorthand.”

she blinks, before picking up one of the (many) picture frames that patton has dotting his room.

"what's this?"

patton squints at the photo. "me, mom."

"i know that's you," she snaps, "you're wearing a cast."

"oh, yeah," patton says, and laughs. "yeah, that's when i broke my arm."

"you broke your arm?!"

"yeah, three years ago," patton says. "you know what a klutz i am, i stepped wrong on some ice outside of virgil's diner and now logan and virgil won't let me walk anywhere alone in the middle of winter if i'm not holding onto a railing or someone else, or something."

"i never knew that you broke your arm," she says, and patton can see the way she's drooping.

he's never seen her like that.

"oh, hey, mom," he says, awkward. "it wasn't a big deal, if i got really sick you would have known."

"yes," she says, "well," and sets down the frame. "i should check on your father."

"it was really nice that you came tonight, mom," patton says quietly. "it meant a lot. to logan," he tacks on.

"well, he is my grandson, after all," she says. "i should be here."

patton smiles. "i definitely agree."

he follows her down the stairs, and gets briefly waylaid by refereeing the terms of a feud he doesn't understand, and then gets waved out for being biased, and by the time that's happened patton looks up to see his parents approaching his son, and he hastens over in time to hear richard say "absurd, but entertaining," holding the tabloid back out for logan.

"hey, are you guys heading out?" patton asks.

"we had a lovely time, patton," his mother tells him, with a straight face.

"get that chimney inspected, i've sent you a number to call," his father says.

"well, thank you," patton says. "and i'll get right on that."

logan and patton watch as they leave, and then they both throw themselves back into a night of fun, and friends, and happiness.

(out in the car, emily stares out of the window and is silent for so long that richard has to say her name three times to get her attention. she's too entrenched in thoughts of that cheerfully cluttered house, small and lived in and messy in a way her and richard's house has never been, with frames fighting for space the walls, photos of logan and patton in the midst of stories that emily would have no hope of identifying, of her grandson's first heartbreak she's told about like it's a piece of errant gossip and her son's broken arm that's a funny story and the way patton had looked, here, dressed in that absurd sweater and those terrible jeans and with his hair a frightful mess, talking to that motley crew of neighbors that had been full of nothing but glowing, delighted praise for her son and grandson, the way patton had looked so right here, so comfortable and happy with himself and free, and how securely he has made his own little world and didn’t even seem to notice that she’s been shut outside of it, and the way he squirms and hunches over and avoids her world until he can't anymore, and how she has seen her son smile more in this night than she has since he was very small, and how her grandson had smiled more this evening than she had ever seen from him, and—

"he was right," emily says, choked up, wilting in a way that richard has only ever seen her wilt once, and his stomach plummets. "patton. he's right. he's a mystery to me, and i don't know him at all.")

#wyliwf #my fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #moxiety #logince

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brajeshupadhyay · 4 years

Quote

A worker wears a mask at the Boeing Renton Factory, where 737 MAX airliners are manufactured, as commercial airplane production resumes following a suspension of operations last month in response to the coronavirus pandemic as efforts continue to help slow the spread of the coronavirus disease (COVID-19) in Renton, Washington, April 21, 2020. Jason Redmond | Reuters TJ Wilson is no stranger to hunting for jobs. A consultant based in Los Angeles, Wilson often has a few weeks or months in between contract roles with different cosmetics companies. It’s a cycle he has followed over the past five years, working with different employers for about six months at a time. But when his latest contract ran out in early March, the process no longer followed the same script. “Typically, when I’m working with recruiters, I get calls two or three times a week about a job,” Wilson said. “And now all those calls have just disappeared.” Wilson is one of more than 30 million Americans who have filed new jobless claims since the coronavirus pandemic ground the national economy to a standstill. April saw the most job losses in a single month on record, according to the Labor Department, led by a decline of more than 7.6 million jobs in the business and hospitality sector. Professional and business services, where Wilson would most likely be categorized, lost more than 2 million jobs. Nearly 80%, or roughly 18 million, of those who lost jobs in April told the Labor Department they thought their layoffs were temporary, but as cities and states slowly lift restrictions, it’s not clear how soon or if those jobs will return. “There will be millions of those 18 million that will be called back to work,” said Luke Tilley, chief economist at Wilmington Trust. “But we think that many more millions of them are likely to end up as an actual job loss.” Potential bright spots The official unemployment rate soared to 14.7% in April, and many, including Treasury Secretary Steve Mnuchin, have said they expect it to rise again next month. Goldman Sachs economists said in a note to clients that they expect unemployment in the United States to peak at 25%. But even if the top-line number gets worse, there could be sector-level information that shows the reopenings or government relief programs are working. Construction, which lost just under 1 million jobs in April, could see a boost in employment as restrictions are lifted for workplaces where physical distancing is easier, Tilley said. The sector could also see outsized results from the Paycheck Protection Program, Tilley said, because those companies will find it easier to meet the requirement to spend 75% of the loan on payroll costs to turn it into a grant. “Equipment that they rent, materials that they are bringing in for any specific job, are sort of a variable cost. So construction companies have an easier time going about taking PPP loans, paying their people,” Tilley said. Goldman Sachs was less bullish on construction’s recovery but did point to manufacturing as a potential bright spot. “One lesson we have taken from reopening experiences abroad is that it is easier to make production sites safe than to safely reopen many consumer activities, suggesting that the rebound will be quicker in the manufacturing sector,” the bank said. Even if those sectors are able to recoup some of their job losses in coming months, they may still be hampered by a weaker economy overall, said Lowell Taylor, an economics professor at Carnegie Mellon University. “This is the kind of nightmare scenario with things like construction and manufacturing — that the goals for activities decline,” Taylor said. “Projects that would have been done just get postponed or just put off indefinitely.” A slow recovery Wilson said he is prepared to look for different types of roles to find work again, and workers in other slow recovering sectors may face the same dilemma. “Leisure and Hospitality is going to remain incredibly challenged. Some of those other sectors, we think it’s going to be challenging for those to come back as well,” Tilley said. Some of the job losses were in areas that some considered to be close to recession-proof. Dental offices alone shed more than 500,000 jobs in April as elective medical procedures were banned in many areas to preserve personal protective equipment. Tilley said he is skeptical nonemergency medical jobs will recover quickly with people nervous about being in close contact with each other. The slower the return to normal in those sectors, the more economic activity will be permanently lost, Taylor said. “That truly can’t last forever. Those jobs would bounce back, you’d think. People still need dental services,” Taylor said. “But how quickly? … How many people are just going to skip their next checkup and clean? And that lost revenue will never come back.” Subscribe to CNBC PRO for exclusive insights and analysis, and live business day programming from around the world. The post Jobs recovery could be choppy—some coming back quickly, others gone appeared first on Sansaar Times.

http://sansaartimes.blogspot.com/2020/05/jobs-recovery-could-be-choppysome.html

#SEO #Local SEO training #daily news paper #daily news india #daily news newspaper #technology news a

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stedes-black-bonnet · 6 years

Text

My Baby Does Me: Chapter 11

POV: John Deacon x reader

Notes: ongoing fic—want on the tag list? Drop me a line. Have any requests? Drop me a line.

Warnings: more smut (sorry not sorry/promise it’s important for character development, for those of you here for that).

Abstract: Roger faces an unexpected, expected dilemma.

Roger Taylor knew where he was going. He always had a plan, even if the plan was to not have a plan. In his mind, it still counted. Holding Lydia’s hand, he navigated the interior of Garden Lodge like he had built it himself, brick by brick. The rooms had emptied quite a bit by this point, which made the journey all the easier.

“Where are you taking me?” Lydia purred.

“I’m taking my favorite person to my favorite place.” He smirked at Lydia, running his free hand through his blond hair.

“It's a surprise.”

“Everything about me is a surprise, love.”

“Ditto,” Lydia challenged, “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

Roger paused in a dark hallway, pushed Lydia up against the wall, and stared at her, a silent challenge, before slowly closing the distance; he was a man on the prowl. He put his hands on the wall, over her head, leaning in to her. Roger kissed her, not caring who passed them by and saw this scene; he didn’t care about such trivial concerns. Just as suddenly as he had kissed her, he stopped, taking her by the hand, and continued to pull her towards his chosen destination. His hands were exceptionally rough. She felt blisters in various stages of healing, and wondered if it was painful, and how she might help him.

Lydia followed with mounting curiosity and flowing desire. He tried very hard, she thought, to seem mysterious; there was little not on the surface regarding Roger Taylor. This wasn’t to say he wasn’t deep; he was quite profound when he wanted to be; he just didn’t see the need to hide his feelings, fears, and predilections. He wasn’t ashamed of going after what he wanted, even if he wasn’t clear on his own motivations, his intentions always were explicit, transparent, and knowable. Sooner than anticipated, Roger led Lydia through a backdoor on the first floor.

The garden was expansive, well-maintained, and like something out of a fairy-tale. Lydia half expected to see a white or black queen walking among the prevalent ferns and countless rose and lilac bushes. A giant weeping willow swayed in the soft night winds. A Japanese-inspired pond rested near the willow with room for lounging. The delphiniums were the prize of the garden, however; towering slightly above the garden walls in the brilliant shades of sunset: pale lapis, darker-than-sin violets, and passionate cobalts. The combined scent was astonishingly delicate.

“It’s glorious, Rog.” Lydia had stopped walking, taking in the hidden paradise; she tugged on Roger’s hand to halt his progress.

“Jim’s doing, all of it.” Roger explained, admiring a wall of ivy, “He has a gift.”

“I’ll say,” Lydia agreed.

“They’d all die without his care. Wither away. I remember when Freddie moved in, there was no garden to speak of, and there wouldn’t be without Jim.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever loved anything as much as Jim loves this garden.” Lydia mused aloud, imagining the years Jim had put into maintaining this luscious oasis.

Roger gazed at her, then. Not only because of her self-aware and bold statements he had come to treasure from her, but because in this setting she was especially exquisite.

In the moonlight, she glowed faintly. Actually glowed with the flickering street lights and over-large moon. He couldn’t imagine anyone more dazzling. He was captivated. Simply speechless in her presence. He had felt desire before. Overwhelming desire, in fact. Given himself over to lust on multiple occasions with joyous abandon. But love? He wasn’t so sure anymore. Looking at Lydia felt like looking at a renaissance painting; far too wise and far too cherished to touch; yet, like all children when told not to touch something so protected and so gorgeous, he felt all the more compelled.

The gentle, goldenrod waves of her hair shifted in the wind, just as on the night he first met her. He put a hand to his lips, the same hand she had licked that same night. The red dress was affecting him profoundly. Well, no, that wasn’t entirely correct; the woman in the red dress was affecting him, but he hadn’t worked out the difference yet. He took his glasses off, like on that night, to see her better; which didn’t help, because he couldn’t see without them. It was a secret desire to see her with no barriers, with his guard down. He wanted to witness her in all her prismatic beauty with as much vulnerable closeness as possible. He didn’t know how to do it, though. Every relationship prior to Lydia had always had some unspoken profound distance between him and his conquest. That’s the problem: they were conquests. Now, he was her conquest, he questioned? Or were they equals? He didn’t know. He couldn’t be certain. Though, maybe, he was imagining this sudden attachment. Maybe he was saying he was imagining it to escape having to explain it.

There was that battle again, between denial and acceptance. It was his common playground by now. A land he had been treading since childhood. There was something desperately dismal about it now, he thought. Some profound sadness about his predicament. Pleasure didn’t always equal happiness, perhaps. Well, not lasting happiness anyway. But how to begin?

He settled for the first thing that came to mind. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone.” Roger said aloud for the first time ever.

Lydia turned and looked at him, struck to the core. Were there tears in his eyes? Behind the umber glasses it was hard to tell. Perhaps it was a trick of the light. Perhaps he was a trick of the light, giving her some line he didn’t need to give her anyway. She was determined this was going to happen. It was happening on her terms with her full acceptance. What hope did she have to think it would last beyond tonight? Roger Taylor was a notorious scoundrel. There’s no way he was being vulnerable with her now. What was he playing at?

“Oh, I doubt the great Roger Taylor has never been in love…” she said playfully, trying desperately to lighten the suddenly stifling atmosphere.

Looking at her, he wasn’t so sure. Maybe he already was and didn’t know it yet. Denial, he thought, the only thing as wicked as he was. “The truth,” he said, “is rarely what we want it to be.”

There it was again, thought Lydia. That piercingly unexpected depth from The Blond God. He looked pensive; a weight of anguish pressed upon his usually sparkling eyes she hadn’t anticipated. It was a vacant sorrow that evaporated everything from view. In that moment, he was blind to everything. Lydia gripped his hand, trying to return him to her.

He smiled lightly, pulling her to his side once more. “Come on, love. I must have you before the sun rises. During, too, for that matter.” He waggled his pale eyebrows at her, thinking of her body glistening in the morning sun, thinking of her hair, her thighs; he happily retreated back into the cozy sanctuary of his denial once more.

They effortlessly exited the garden through a wrought-iron gate. Something about it’s design reminded Lydia of the cover to A Day at the Races, but Roger was on a mission; it was clear he wasn’t interested in pausing to admire any view that wasn’t Lydia. He took her down an alley. It was unmarked, though for a couple of blocks he took them down a true path of his own design. He stopped suddenly, breaking out onto a street lined with townhouses and cars. He headed for a red Alfa Romeo convertible.

It was his life. He took care of it like most people took care of a sickly animal or an aging parent. Every detail he had painstakingly picked and enhanced. If he had to choose between saving himself or his car, he’d choose his car every damn time. Sure, he had written that song about the love of his life, his “car,” and had taken so much shit for it ever since, but it was worth it. Fuck them, he thought, if they didn’t get it.

Roger savored every line of his Alfa Romeo as he savored every line of Lydia’s body. He’d just have to take her right now, and it could only happen in his car. He patted his breast pocket for his keys, and found nothing. He checked his pants next, and that too yielded nothing.

“Those absolute assholes,” Roger said with more affection than he’d like to admit. Thank god he had left the top down.

“Something wrong?” Lydia asked, twirling a strand of her straw-colored hair in her hand, leaning up against his baby like she belonged there. Maybe she did, Roger contemplated.

And there he was unable to remember exactly what the issue had been. She certainly had a way about her, a way with him.

“Absolutely nothing, love.” He said, lifting her up in his arms, and placing her on the passenger’s side seat of the car. He hopped over the door to the driver’s side, and turned to face her, his Goddess in Red.

Exposed or not, there would be action this night.

Roger wasted no time. He didn’t play coy; that wasn’t his style. He put his hand on Lydia’s thigh.

She decided to raise the stakes, however. Risk big to get big was her motto.

Lydia shifted over the gear shaft to straddle Roger. The car was small, so it took great skill on her behalf to accomplish this while still looking fantastically alluring. He smiled at her trying to push all thoughts from his mind. Thoughts relating to soulmates. Thoughts relating to love. He pulled her into a kiss. It could have been a kiss without end. Mouths open, tongues circling, it had a tinge of desperate passion both found intoxicating.

This wild meeting of skilled lips lasted until Lydia pulled him away from her lips. She pulled him away by clutching strands of his perfect blond hair. Clawing into his hair with both hands, she stared him down, waiting for his response. Waiting to see if they were birds of a feather in all respects.

Roger laughed. It was the laugh commonly used when something is casually called “too good to be true.” Roger, however, wasn’t a doubter; he knew Lydia was true, good, and only mad happenstance could have brought her into his life. He knew she was inclined to certain proclivities like he was; it was time to play.

He attempted to kiss her, trying to charm her with his eyes, and overpower her with his neck muscles. She kept him from it, by pulling him back by his hair again. Was he giving in to her that easily, she wondered?

Roger Meddows Taylor never gave in.

Lydia saw something dark and flinty flash through his light blue eyes; it was the look of a man who didn’t lose, she thought. It was the look of a man who never lost. He took his sunglasses off, tossing them to the floor of the car in one fluid motion. That gesture attempted to say he was in control, he was in charge, that she would listen, obey, and do as she was told. A lot could be communicated with merely the flick of a wrist, Lydia thought.

He reached up, glaring benignly, seductively at Lydia, and wrapped a plentiful length of her hair around his fist.

This was what the kids referred to as an impasse.

A stalemate.

There was nothing stale about this mating, however.

Gripping each other’s hair in their determined hands, they stared at each other, waiting. Breathing as one, posed to strike, they savored the moments before the battle commenced.

Lydia couldn’t get enough of his eyes. That color, she thought. What was it? Cerulean? Cyan? As a painter, she should be able to identify the color of a person’s eyes. His hair was silky to the touch; it was clear he cared a great deal about his appearance. He was too pretty to be allowed. Pretty enough to pass as a women, if he so desired.

And he was so effortlessly desirable.

Lydia bared her teeth are him.

“Just try me,” he dared her. She decided to call his bluff; she went in for the bite, aiming at his neck, just above his clavicle. He stopped her, just before the moment of contact, by pulling her hair. Lydia moaned in frustration. She was not typically in a position like this; she was always the dominant one. What exactly happened when two doms tried to have sex, she questioned? Might as well as ask what was the sound of one hand clapping?

She’d have to up the ante. Lydia reached down with a claw-like hand, grabbed Roger’s cock over his pants, and slowly applied pressure, watching his pupils dilate. Just to show she meant business, Lydia kept her hand there, poised to give him a reminder of her strength as needed.

He smirked at her, knowing instantly he had simultaneously judged her correctly and terribly, if not hilariously, wrongly.

Lydia felt Roger getting hard beneath her hand. He had no intentions of hiding his growing joy at being in such a spot of danger. He couldn’t recall the last time he had been so turned on; every nerve in his body was on edge, drumming up the excitement. He wasn’t always this lucky. Finding someone who enjoyed the same games he did was a rarity.

“If you do that again,” he warned, “I’ll have no choice but to make you regret it, Lydia.”

“Try me, Roger.” Lydia responded chilling ice painted on her voice.

That’s when Roger Taylor bit Lydia’s neck.

She moaned in unexpected pleasure, and surprise. He was fast, viper-quick. Roger was as deadly as he was handsome. He continued biting down her decolletage, until he reached the base of the V-neck of her dress.

“May I rip your dress?” Roger asked.

It wasn’t a submissive ask; it was a genuine question to locate her line that wasn’t to be crossed; negotiation was a necessary part of the etiquette here. Roger was a cad, perhaps, but he was also a superior man of honor.

“This is one of my favorites…” Lydia whispered in mock-uncertainty.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” Roger challenged.

Lydia consented by throwing her neck back dramatically.

Letting go of Lydia’s hair, he took his strong hands, well toned from constant drumming, and carefully sunk his hands into the V of her neckline. He flicked his sky-colored eyes up to Lydia’s face, mostly to check her body language. She was, he could feel, substantially wet. Her breathing was even and she looked radiant, and without fear; she trusted him. He took it as the double confirmation he needed. In one swift movement, he ripped the dress down the center to her navel. The shriek that escaped her body was one of acute ecstasy.

Roger, however, had left himself vulnerable for attack. She leaned into him, as he admired her breasts, and bit his neck as she had originally desired to do.

He moaned, a mix of pain and pleasure. He quickly retook her hair in his hands, and pulled her back. She started unzipping his pants; he leaned up into her to help her pull them off more easily. He reached behind Lydia, and unclasped her bra in a skilled snapping of his fingers.

It seemed to matter very little--if indeed at all--that they were outdoors, visible, and about to have sex in a convertible car with the top down. These details were inconsequential to them; this act, being together in this moment, was all that mattered.

He slipped her useless dress sleeves from her arms, and removed her bra.

She removed the obstacle of his underwear.

Roger reached up under what was left of her dress to slide off her own underwear, and found, to is equal surprise and excitement, she wasn’t wearing any.

Meeting zero resistance, his cock exceptionally stiff, he reached his nimble fingers inside of her vagina, savoring the warmth as much as the small sigh that escaped her lips. He worked his fingers inside her slowly at first. Watching as each movement compelled her to breathe with mounting force. The sight of her joy brought him elation beyond all comparison. She was a sight to behold, rocking in the moonlight. He couldn’t wait any longer to have her completely. Roger slipped his fingers from her folds, and easily slid his cock inside her.

The feeling was thought-dashing. Nothing existed while simultaneously everything that ever would matter existed in this moment, in this touch, in this union. He couldn’t think, his vision was full of her, of her breathing, of her movements, of her glorious breasts. She inspired such rhythms in him, only music could express them adequately.

Lydia wrapped her arms around Roger’s neck, bringing him in for an engrossing kiss, before starting a slow cycle of hip movements in a rhythm he easily duplicated.

He dexterously joined her movements in merry syncopation. Roger wrapped one arm around her waist, and used the other to absentmindedly pinch her firm nipples. He thought mostly of her hair responding lightly to the wind, to their own movements; he’d bring a hand up to grasp sections of it from time to time, too sweet to neglect, too powerful to not eroticize.

She slowly sped up her rhythms, which he deftly matched, never rushing, always on pace.

Quite exposed, neither wanted to prolong the moment. If it was to be, Lydia thought, they’d have the opportunity to try all sorts of compromising positions with each other down the road.

“I am close,” Roger whispered, tugging on her hair.

She was too, and knew what she needed to push her over the edge. “Pull harder--now!” Lydia requested.

Roger happily obliged, pulling on her hair, watching her back arch as she slammed up against her own orgasm.

Never one to be showed up, Roger followed suit, meeting his own orgasm like an old friend.

They held each other, breathing in their mingled scents, proud of what they had achieved together. He tightly held her up against his body, and knew a true and lasting contentment he had never before experienced. Slowly, their breathing returned to normal.

He pulled away from her, momentarily. Gazing into Lydia’s eyes, Roger asked, “So, who won, do you reckon?”

Tag List: @phantom-fangirl-stuff @triggeredpossum @obsessedwithrogertaylor @groupiie-love @richiethotzierz @partydulce @sophierobisonartfoundationblr @psychostarkid @teathymewithben @smittyjaws @just-ladyme @botinstqueen @mydogisthebest @little-welsh-wonder @maxjesty

#john deacon x reader #John Deacon #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #queen #queen x reader #bohemian rhapsody #freddie mercury #jim hutton #brian may #ben hardy #Rami Malek #gwilym lee #joe mazzello

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apictureofspace · 5 years

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anon asked for: Crowley/Aziraphale { Good Omens } LISTEN ON SPOTIFY

put a character, ship, show, movie, or celebrity in my ask box and I’ll make you an aesthetic and an accompanying playlist.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #aziraphale x crowley #edits #playlists #good omens aus

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letterboxd · 5 years

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Wild.

“It’s made me feel really excited about what film, TV, and storytelling can be… It can be very deep, provocative, political, and very human.”

Irish singer and actress Jessie Buckley plays Rose-Lynn Harlan in Tom Harper’s new film Wild Rose, which also stars Julie Walters, Sophie Okenodo and a brief cameo from Kacey Musgraves. Rose-Lynn is a Scottish mother-of-two, recently released from a spell in prison, with dreams of becoming a country music star.

Letterboxd members report that Buckley is “a revelation”, "one of the most exciting people you could ever hope to see on a movie screen”, who injects “a heartbreaking pathos to a deeply flawed human” in a film “cleverly written with layers, great dialogue and unexpected twists by Nicole Taylor”.

Jack Moulton spoke with the Chernobyl star about Fellini, becoming a songwriter during the filming of Wild Rose, and wanting to be Julie Walters when she grows up.

Jessie Buckley as Lyudmilla Ignatenko in HBO’s ‘Chernobyl’ miniseries.

Right now [as of June 2019], Chernobyl is literally the highest-rated title on Letterboxd, as rated by our members. That’s above the Godfather films. Jessie Buckley: Wait, really?

Yeah, honestly. How do you feel about being a part of something so enthusiastically embraced like this? Well, I’m very shocked and proud. With Chernobyl, the scripts were so incredible, when you have quality like that you feel something happening on set. The story is unbelievable even though it’s all true. None of us expected such a tragic realistic drama would reach people like this and have the reaction it’s had. It’s made me feel really excited about what film, TV, and storytelling can be. It’s not just escapism like Marvel or fluff. It can be very deep, provocative, political, and very human. I’m really honored.

Does that [radiation sickness] makeup haunt your dreams too? I can’t imagine seeing that in person. Oh yeah, oh my god. Adam Nagaitis, my co-star who played my husband, was in make-up for nearly 10 hours just to get that right. The incredible art of the people who did that work is mind-blowing.

For Wild Rose, director Tom Harper has said that you were the only actress he could picture for the lead. That faith in you must be really gratifying. What was the first aspect of the script that hooked you in and made you realize how Tom was right to enlist you? I’m not even sure I would have said Tom was right. I was more “My God, are you sure?” What first excited me about the script was that it was like a prison break film; how Rose-Lynn was a catalyst for all these amazing women to break down the walls in their lives.

I was directed by Tom for War and Peace and played Princess Marya, who’s the complete opposite to Rose, so I don’t know how he saw me on that set and thought “oh yes, she’s good to be an outlaw”. But I loved working with Tom so much that I was so excited to work with him again. It’s very rare that you meet creative partners where you have an unspoken relationship.

Your character’s mantra is ‘three chords and the truth’. It’s tattooed on her arm. What part of your own truth did you want to bring to the role? You’ve got to be as truthful and honest to the character as you can and I always try and meet a character halfway. She comes away with a bit of me and I come away with a bit of her. But it’s nothing black-and-white like that, it happens after you’ve been nattering away to each other over a period of time and sharing each other’s passions and struggles.

So Rose-Lynn’s goal is to go to Nashville, and you’re currently bouncing between America and the UK for your projects [Buckley’s upcoming films Judy and Ironbark were shot in the UK while The Voyage of Doctor Doolittle and I’m Thinking of Ending Things filmed in the US]. You’re in New York right now. What do you think it is that keeps the American dream alive? Ha, I don’t know. I think people have achieved incredible things in this country. For Rose, Nashville is the epicenter for passion. Everybody who feels like her is there. It’s a promised land where her dreams can be accepted and she won’t be an outsider anymore.

As a novice to the genre, how did you prepare to play someone who lives and breathes country music? Did you discover any singers in particular who affected you? I think my entry point was Emmylou Harris. ‘To Daddy’ was one of the first country songs I learned. Bonnie Raitt was also a huge influence on me. I really loved her voice and the way she told stories in song. She’s an amazing musician and her womanhood and honesty inspired me. Those two artists especially, and then the lyricist John Prine I was just blown away with.

You co-wrote the songs for the film with screenwriter Nicole Taylor. It was your first time songwriting. Did that come naturally? What was the collaborative process? It wasn’t an idea pre-meditated before the film started. When we were filming, we would bottle around to Nicole’s house on a Friday night with coffee and croissants and since we had lived with this character for so long the lyrics just filled out between us all.

What did you find most difficult about playing a mother whose biggest obstacle is her maternal responsibilities? Balancing life and balancing wanting more for your life is a very tricky thing whether you’re a mother, or a father, or anybody. I don’t think there’s anybody in the world who hasn’t had moments where they’ve struggled with the dilemma of nurturing your individuality but also the relationships that you’re in.

Jessie Buckley and Julie Walters in ‘Wild Rose’.

How did you feed off playing against Julie Walters and Sophie Okonedo. What was the creative atmosphere like? They’re just the best of the best. Julie is an incredible woman and so down-to-earth. Getting to stand opposite her, I would just look at her and go “God, I wanna be like you when I grow up”. She’s in it for the right reasons. There’s no fuss. She just gets to set and is so available, generous, and as curious as you are to find the scene.

You’re starting in film almost ten years into your acting career [Buckley made it to the final of the UK talent show I’d Do Anything, where contestants competed to star as Nancy in the West End musical Oliver!]. That Beast shoot must have felt like a long time ago. How are you handling the wait for these films to get out into the world, especially with all these journalists—and BAFTA—telling you that you’re “a rising star”? I’m taking it all with a pinch of salt. At the end of the day, the thing I want to do is be good at what I do. So, yeah!

Finally, what was the film that made you want to be in the movies? The first film I ever saw was Meet Me in St. Louis. I couldn’t believe the color, or Judy Garland’s incredible performance. But I think a film that made me go “that is just amazing cinema” was Fellini’s La Strada. It’s my favorite film and Giulietta Masina is my favorite actress. That was the first film where I was like: “I wanna do that.”

‘Wild Rose’ is in US theaters now.

#wild rose #jessie buckley #nashville #grand ole opry #chernobyl #julie walters #letterboxd

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deathbyvalentine · 5 years

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Assorted Prompts

Loveletter

There are always secret places in schools. They’re unseen to adult eyes. Hollows of trees, particular broken drawers in classrooms, unused desks. They could become post offices, central hubs for things to come and go. Lip glosses, lists, small talismans for luck and witchcraft. Some were private, known only to best friends, not realising they were carrying on a grand tradition practised by hundreds of schoolgirls before them.

Chrissie and Angelique were two such girls. They had the type of friendship only fourteen year old girls could have. They were joined at the hip, endlessly fascinated and infuriated with each other. The came apart and came together in a cycle as predictable as the tides.

They went to the woods on the outskirts of the grounds, pricked their fingertips with needles and pressed the bloody prints to each other’s lips, swearing an oath to be each other’s forever. They walked to class with linked arms, heads leaning together, weaving whispers between them. They invented their own language, as much about twitches of the hand and eyebrow as the nonsense words they said. They passed notes, never caught. They lay together on Chrissie’s bed, legs tangled together, pressing hands to each other. Sometimes they didn’t even need to speak. They just gazed at each other, memorising the other’s body until it may as well have been their own.

Years later, when they had graduated and were girls no longer, a new pupil plunged their hand into a birdbox and found a faded piece of paper, blue ink bleeding a little from years of damp. It said;

Chrissie, Tomorrow we will wake up and we will be friends still. How can life get better than this? Your Angel

High Flyer

She had red hair. That was what I remembered best about her. When she took her helmet off it shone like fire in the evening sunlight. She was like a poster come to life, her lipsticked smile perfect, her leather jacket fitting like a dream. She was the perfect pilot, everyone’s idea of one. At least, she was certainly my idea of one. I loved her best in the morning, before she left, before she had to put the world before me. Even in her sleep she was a fighter, never still for too long, always stirring. I knew that she would never go out quietly, that however she went, it would be with an explosion. It turned out I was right, her plane tumbling down into the English channel like Icarus, her hubris being the assumption she could out fly death. She’s buried there somewhere, out with the salt and the seaweed, conquering the waves as she conquered the sky. I don’t miss her. In life she was never around enough to form a life around and now without her, her absence feels as a natural as the wind. I still love her, and I love the spaces where she once was.

Blue

Constance woke up, as she so often did, in the early hours of the morning. For once, the school was peaceful, the entire place breathing slowly. Everything was bathed in pale blue light, the colour of a summer just before dawn. The place was as lonely as she felt, corridors and teaching rooms abandoned. Well. Abandoned if you didn’t know the right way to look.

She realised what had woken her on this occasion. Not nightmares, not rain pattering against the window, not hearing giggling in the next room. Distantly, echoing down the corridor, was a soft wailing. She tilted her head, wondering why the nurse hadn’t taken care of it. Then, after a moment, she realised exactly why. She slipped out of bed, bare feet hitting the cold polished wood, pulling open her bedroom door. She peeped out, listening before distinguishing where it was coming from.

She followed it down the corridor, a small shiver travelling down her spine from cold or fear. Her fingers brushed the banister as she tip toed down the stairs, slipping past the teacher’s quarters like a forgotten shadow. It was deep within the kitchen where she finally found what she was looking for, rubbing her eyes to free them from the clinging fingers of sleep.

The figure was small, as she expected it to be, sitting on the edge of the wooden table and howling fit to burst. Constance forced herself to keep a neutral face, to not recoil or flinch when the figure looked up to reveal a face with deep claw marks across it. She hadn’t met this one before, but then ghosts appeared whenever they liked. Sometimes it could be centuries before they manifested. Yet another part of her power she didn’t quite understand. Timidly she stood, squirming as she worked up the courage to ask if it was alright.

The answer would be no of course. She had yet to meet a happy ghost. But sometimes someone seeing them, talking to them, acknowledging them would ease their soul enough that they would let her sleep. It didn’t always work. Hence why Constance had quite the reputation for falling asleep at her desk. She took a step closer, fingers brushing the shoulder of the incorporeal form. With a shock like electricity, she felt the claws rip into her flesh, the teeth and terror. She blinked, and her body was her own again, vital, living. The ghost had not yet stopped crying, only for a moment to be surprised that Constance could see him before continuing, undeterred.

With a sigh, she moved over to fill a heavy iron kettle and place it on the hob. She needed tea. It was going to be a long night.

____________________________________________-

Calpurnia and Matthias’ first meeting

He stood behind his mothers and fathers, attempting valiantly to look disinterested. But he had never met a Urizeni before and his curiosity betrayed him. He peeked around his father’s shoulder to inspect her. He noted her stance, straight backed and rigid, the expression giving nothing away as to what she thought of his land, his family, his lodgings. His instinct was to assume arrogance, but he had been told about the Urizeni occupation with poise. She could just be controlling herself, a concept fairly foreign to the young changeling.

He also noted the soft feathers sprouting along her brow. If it wasn’t clear from her confidence, the feathers made her lineage intently clear. He himself had no chance of hiding his own - swirls painted his face, the beginnings of antlers protruding through the mess of curls, his eyes a sparkling blue. In hindsight, he probably should have spent less time examining every inch of her and more time listening to exactly what his family was saying.

“- Matthias will show you - “ “- What?” He blinked, rapidly being jolted back down to earth. “You know the way. Calpurnia here needs to be shown and we’re too busy with the clients we currently have. It’ll get you out from under our feet for a few days.” Their tone was traditionally blunt and invited no argument. Matthias frowned and looked over at the other teenager that had caused him to be jolted from his days of relaxation and socialising.

She smiled. What a dick.

_____________________________________________

That Bloody Alleyway

The alley provided a much needed moment of respite. They stood for a moment, backs pressed to the brick walls, their chests heaving. Their assilants sprinted past, not a single one of them glancing into the gap. Even if they had, they might not have seen anything. They were bathed in shadow, the light of the street not quite touching them.

They could hear nothing but faded footsteps and the sound of their own breath catching in their throats. Alyssa tilted her head, double-checking. Then grinned. She wrapped her hand in Taylor’s t-shirt, closing the gap between them and kissing her, hard. Taylor returned the love, moving up the hand that wasn’t holding a bag of stolen jewellery to Alyssa’s hair, tangling her fingers within it.

It took them both a moment to notice the body. It was only when they had broken apart and glanced either way to begin to plan their exit when they saw it. Alyssa clapped a hand over her mouth to prevent a scream, but Taylor did nothing more than inhale sharply. They stood as still as statues, making certain that his chest was not rising and falling, that it wasn’t just some drunk sleeping off his evening. Taylor stepped closer, using her phone to cast a little more light on the situation.

A dark pool surrounded his head like a twisted version of a halo. One pale hand lay flat against the concrete, the other tucked inside his jacket pocket. He was smartly dressed, looking for all the world like he had just stepped out of an office. But that seemed unlikely in this part of town. Legitimate people didn’t work around here. This was a place for getting by and getting into trouble.

Hence the dilemma that now faced the partners. Did they call someone, anonymously and risk sticking their noses somewhere they did not belong? Or did they do the right thing? It was Taylor who stirred first, grabbing Alyssa’s hand and tugging her out of the alleyway and into the street. Not their problem. Not their business.

_________________________________________________

“Any two etc. au bandfic.”

Amy stormed into the green room, tossing her bass onto the couch without caring if it landed on the cushions. She stood in the middle of the room, motionless, her hands clenched into fists, cheeks flushed pink. After a moment she broke the pose, moving over to carefully adjust her bass, murmuring an apology under her breath as she did so. She ran her fingers down it’s neck.

It was a thing of beauty, the only constant in her life since she was thirteen. Parents left, friends, boys, girls but her green bass stayed, as much a part of her as her hands. She stays in the silence, listening only to her breath. I am close to crying I think. I’m not sure. It’s been so long that I’m not sure all the pipes are connected right. She hated how she looked when she cried. Red puffy eyes, blotchy cheeks. She was not a girl who suffered prettily and she hated that she was even conscious of that fact. She wondered if boys watched themselves through another’s eyes, even at their worst.

She wasn’t sure if James worried about anything, let alone if his sadness was beautiful enough. But then, she also wasn’t sure if sadness was an emotion he felt. Anger, yes, frequently. Bitterness, of course. Sadness? She couldn’t see it on him. Which was probably the problem.

Amy was sad a lot. It was her default state. That and anxious. She frequently found her moments of happiness only came on stage, the music surrounding her, watching James sing her words, the words she had written. Out of his mouth, her words weren’t teenage and embarrassing. They weren’t personal. A crowd sang them back and they became poetry. They became something profound, universal. It felt like releasing them into the world, the weight from her chest finally easing, just a little.

She thought she had found another place. In James’s arms, in his bed. It had started almost as an ego boost. James was stunning, with those big brown eyes and thick eyelashes, strong arms and perfect smile. The fact that he wanted her, with all her flaws was enough to give her head rush. Then it had became more. It was him, just him that made her mood jump, her heart race. Stupid of her really. Falling in love in general was idiocy. Falling in love with a lead singer was lunacy. She didn’t know how to tell him to be careful. Not with her, she was already broken, but with her words. Her music. Her band. That was all that mattered really, when you cut down to the bone of it.

But James was not a careful man. He didn’t know how to be. He knew only how to be reckless and brave and maddening. It’s what made him so electric to watch and so dangerous to know. Amy only knew how to be careful. She lived in a fragile world. Everything was made of glass, everything could come crashing down, leaving cuts.

She wasn’t surprised that she had seen him kissing somebody else. It was in his nature. The old story of the scorpion and the frog, played out a hundred times over and over. She was however, surprised it hurt.

_______________________________________

“Any character: sex work AU”

It had taken a while to get used to. Her civvie clothes were flowing layers, in deep yellows and oranges, a way of carrying summer with her all year long. Her work clothes were not just tight - they may as well have been painted on. They clung to every dip and curve, highlighting the imagination rather than leaving something to it. What wasn’t covered by latex or leather was not covered at all, the black of the material and the tan of her skin working together to create a symphony of seduction.

Amberly liked it now. The feeling of it, especially when it warmed, becoming like a second skin. She ran her hands over her hips, feeling the slopes of her own body. She was not often aware she had a body. She generally considered it irrelevant. Simply a vessel for actioning her thoughts. A machine, just one made of flesh and blood.

Here it was different. Here it became a way for her to present her personality, to cause and stir excitement in others. It could be desired and admired. She became fascinated with herself, the swing in her hips, the noise her skin made against sheets, the way her hair streaked down her back. She memorised her freckles and scars, inspecting herself in her mirror with nothing but kindness. She knew logically she was supposed to find fault. Prod at her thighs, despair over a spot, circle what she would change. But none of that entered her mind. She loved herself, her body. And this job gave others the opportunity to do the same.

Experimentally, she smacked the crop against her palm, smiling at the noise that echoed through the room.

__________________________________________

Petitioner Change

Canyon sat on top of the decaying rock, feet just resting in the water. Dark shapes moved below, but she wasn’t afraid. Shadows were as much a part of this world as the sea itself. The sea spray and the mist left tiny droplets on her skin, shimmering like crystals. Sometimes they fizzled where they hit her skin, the infernal burning inside her not abated. She was a creature of fire surrounded by water. Not that she minded. Not anymore.

It wasn’t just the landscape that was changing. She had known from the moment it had happened that Abyss had gone, shifting into something of his essence but definitely not the same. Your shaper was a part of you. When they changed, the world changed, and as a part of the world surrounding you, so did you.

Her rage hadn’t subsided. Her passion. Her adoration and hate. That was still there, fuelling the fire of her soul. But something else was there too. A deep, dark shadow behind the fire. One whispering about acceptance, peace, about the refuge that came with accepting shadow as the natural counterpart of fire. One that saw no experience as valuable as experience. One that thought one sounded like a dreadfully lonely number.

She leaned down, trailing her fingers in the sea, watching some shadows dart up and nip at her fingers. Part of her wanted to slip into the water and let them consume her, a thousand pieces of her in a thousand others. She wasn’t scared. She was happy.

#prose #prompts #larp #short stories

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 14 Review: Yokel Hero

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This The Simpsons review contains spoilers.

The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 14

The Simpsons season 32, episode 14, “Yokel Hero,” is an alternate take on the “small-town talent goes nowhere” trope. Cletus Delroy Montfort Bigglesworth Spuckler, voiced by Hank Azaria, picks and grins his way to the edge of country music stardom, prodded by true believer, Homer Simpson. Yes, this isn’t the first time Homer’s discovered a country singer, which is addressed in the episode. But he was drunk then, and had to drive miles off the beaten path. In “Yokel Hero,” he is also drunk, but this time he is walking.

The episode opens auspiciously. The gang is assembled at Moe’s Bar celebrating Carl’s birthday, which leads to an inspired melodic addition of “and Lenny more” to the greetings. It’s a special day, like Canadian Thanksgiving or Jewish Arbor Day, and Moe does things right. He even oils the barstools. Marge doesn’t appreciate it when she calls asking for Homer, which sets up the groundwork for the subplot. What price is freedom? Homer has someone at home angry that he might crash his car and die before dinner. But single guys, like Carl, Lenny and especially Moe, can drive off a cliff free as a bird. In a way, this is a foreshadowing to Cletus’s impending dilemma, which makes it something to sing about.

The episode is filled with songs, as this season has been generous with. It opens with Homer’s homage to “Singing in the Rain.” He dances like a tipsy Gene Kelly, while singing lines like “peeing in the drain … what a glorious feeling I’m blotto again,” and even finds a rhyme to bond him in friendship with Kirk Van Houten. The scene is ample evidence never to try and dance your way out of a public intoxication stop.

Homer first realizes the depth of Cletus’ music while in the drunk tank. The off-the-grid Hillbilly from Rural Route 9 is locked up for moonshining, and has deep blues. Of course, every small-town jail has a guitar, so Cletus gets not only a chance to countrify his emotional turmoil, but turn down a chance to electrify it. His simple melodies and lyrics which both rhyme and apple blossoms with tasty possums resonate with Homer, who vows to turn his life around, or at least take a detour.

This all happens very quickly, even the opening theme and couch gag are skipped, and the episode begins closing credits before the opening ones. We get a lot of information about Cletus’ family. Some it is contradictory to what we’ve thought we knew. He says still loves the gal he got pregnant when “they was 16.” In “Yokel Hero,” Cletus says Brandine Spuckler is his cousin, but in earlier episodes he’s said “of all the cousins I could’ve married, you was my sister.”

You might think Cletus is from a family of Goobers, but that’s his wife’s side. Cletus comes from a long line of no-accounts. He may not be able to resist a good pyramid scheme, but he knows BTS’s Jungkook. Cletus is the character who points out there are still two more acts to follow, and specially whittled credits to boot. Cletus is much more astute than the surface shows. There is a deep knowledge underneath his wisdom that has nothing to do with information.

He is, of course, a graduate of the Mississippi Institute of Trailer Trash. He also got a cultural education while squatting inside a closed Blockbuster, where he conceived his kids Be Kind and Rewind. Cletus knows the Andy Griffith-starring vehicle A Face in the Crowd is far closer than Homer’s insistence he is living A Star is Born, whichever version. Cletus is, however, of the opinion the 1932 film, What Price Hollywood?, which all four A Star Is Borns were based on, is the better movie.

The country singer in A Face in the Crowd was also found in a drunk tank, and had an inordinate amount of clout when it came to what his fans would do for him. The scene where Wiggum’s car is overturned by Cletus fans mirrors a scene where Griffith’s character tells a whole bunch of people who are listening to him on the radio to go down for a swim at a wealthy local household.

It is amusing how, in his management notebook, one of Homer’s first revelations is “people like good songs.” For an audience which has jars for both tips and teeth, songs about kids and a bellyful of ribs are as golden as Cletus’s first true love. This guy is the real Yokel Ono. Of course, his songs reach the audience. They are simple, painful and forged on generations of moonshine swilling. Cletus is immediately the cover boy on “Washboard,” “Backwoods” and “Entremanure” magazines. The show makes commentary on the country music industry only obliquely. Cletus now considers his family to be the Taylor Swifts, Carrie Underwood, all of them Mumfords.

Cletus is right about being afraid of success. He’s heard the celebrity stories. Even though Lurleen Lumpkin (Beverly D’Angelo), the country singer Homer managed before nationwide fame, sold 12 gold records, she spent the end of her career headlining a series of famous rehab centers. The Simpsons has never been above a little name dropping, but they really score big on Mr. Ed. Repurposing Saturday Night Live’s “the horse is a corpse” wordplay, we learn the beloved TV legend was a heroin addict. “This horse was on horse? Of course, of course” is a classically twisted line.

Even though Cletus notices, in person, “Elin” looks nothing like she did in the Nemo movie, we learn the actor/standup/talk show host is exactly as she seems. When she’s not dancing alone in her dressing room, she’s making the audience dance in punishment for not applauding loud enough. God forbid you look her billboard in the eye.

The story rises and falls so quickly, it might appear rushed, but it does play out fully, and was probably arranged this way so Albert Brooks could take over the final act. There really is no one who talks like A. Brooks. When he says he loves you, you feel loved. When he tells you you’re going to be bigger than Campbell’s Soup, you can believe Tomato Soup is an unreachable pinnacle. His spiel about how there are so many Netflix specials they should call them “Netflix normals,” and riffing on the Obamas is standup sitting down. He pitches a dinosaur animated musical to his basketball client because he could jump out of a tree and sing a song like a small dinosaur. Part of this tells us what a bullet Cletus dodged, but most of it was just to let a veteran guest mouth off. The Simpsons love Brooks, and usually reserve this kind of off-course riffery for Dan Castellaneta. This is the reason there is no couch gag or opening, this may have been tagged on but it had to be.

Moe continues his sad sack journeys. He makes two sets of keys for Homer’s car, which he is holding until Homer isn’t drunk. The unspoken punch line to this is that it could be years before Homer is sober. Two more seasons have been added to The Simpsons, and that’s enough to drive anyone to drink. Moe turns that around by taking Homer’s car to be washed because it makes him “feel like a man who owns a car.” A very sad comment on an already sad life.

Both Cletus and Homer grow in this episode. Brandine shows Cletus how he was seduced by “promises of short underwear and professional haircuts.” Homer learns not to pause too long when Marge asks if he wants to disregard his wishes. Even Chief Wiggum learns you just might have the next national superstar locked up in a holding cell. As long as the evidence room is filled with cellos and hacksaws, he is a captive audience.

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The Simpsons delivers an extremely nuanced take on several well-worn themes. We know “Yokel Hero” will come to a predetermined end, because Cletus is a series regular and forever stuck in his local role. He will never see his dream of an all-American family moonshine distillery with not a single American employed come to fruition. But the concluding factors are unique. Homer makes a great point when he says he wasn’t playing god. This is an original character. Even though it is a role he played before, he learned nothing from it. This makes the episode fresh. Homer continues to hold on to the emotional purity which bonded him with the message and messenger of the music. Cletus’ final advice, “What happens in jail stays in jail, unless you’re breaking out of jail,” is classic down-home, common sense comedy.

The post The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 14 Review: Yokel Hero appeared first on Den of Geek.

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b-reads-books · 7 years

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I read 230 books in 2017.

Down fifteen from last year...I am a math genius and initially miscounted by ten somehow, so I though I had hit 240...this was not so. The fluctuations tell you when I was studying for exams. (I’m done with all my fall exams now so I only have one scheduled for next year!) I did not make a new year’s book-of-the-month resolution and did not really expand into audiobooks more either. Oh well. This was a tough year for me all around and I’m hoping for a better one to follow.

Standouts:

Sorrow’s Knot, Erin Bow

Strange the Dreamer, Laini Taylor

A Conjuring of Light, Victoria Schwab

The Hating Game, Sally Thorne

Always and Forever, Lara Jean, Jenny Han

Thick as Thieves, Megan Whalen Turner

The Hate U Give, Angie Thomas

Now I Rise, Kiersten White

History is All You Left Me, Adam Silvera

Genuine Fraud, E Lockhart

Less, Andrew Sean Greer

In the Wreckage, Hailey Turner

Far From the Tree, Robin Benway

Complete list with more favorites in bold below the cut.

January – 23

The Lovely Reckless, Kami Garcia

The Quiet Gentleman, Georgette Heyer

Bad Blood, Jennifer Lynn Barnes

Soundless, Richelle Mead

Trouble is a Friend of Mine, Stephanie Tromly

A Great and Terrible Beauty, Libba Bray

Rebel Angels, Libba Bray

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, JK Rowling *

The Sweet Far Thing, Libba Bray

Beautiful, Christina Lauren

My Sister Rosa, Justine Larbalestier

Take the Key and Lock Her Up, Ally Carter

Timekeeper, Tara Sim

The Operator, Kim Harrison

Sacrifice, Cindy Pon

Declare, Tim Powers

Zinnia, Jayne Castle

Orchid, Jayne Castle

Trouble Makes a Comeback, Stephanie Tromley

The Hogwarts Collection, JK Rowling

After Dark, Jayne Castle

After Glow, Jayne Castle

Armed and Magical, Lisa Shearin

February – 21

Of Fire and Stars, Audrey Coulthurst

Infini, Krista and Becca Ritchie

Ghost Hunter, Jayne Castle

The Ghoul Vendetta, Lisa Shearin

Blood Red, Snow White, Marcus Sedgwick

Sorrow’s Knot, Erin Bow

The Infinite, Lori M Lee

A Darkly Beating Heart, Lindsay Smith

Dragon’s Bait, Vivian Vande Velde

By These Ten Bones, Clare B Dunkle

Girls on Fire, Robin Wasserman

The Trouble with Demons, Lisa Shearin

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime, Mark Haddon

Magonia, Maria Dahvana Headley

Blood Vow, JR Ward

Cherry, Lindsey Rosin

The Female of the Species, Mindy McGinnis

Ella Minnow Pea, Mark Dunn

Cousin Kate, Georgette Heyer

King’s Cage, Victoria Aveyard

The Bear and the Nightingale, Katherine Arden

March – 15

The Black Dagger Brotherhood: An Insider’s Guide, JR Ward

Before the Fall, Noah Hawley

The Killer in Me, Margot Harrison

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, JK Rowling*

Bewitched and Betrayed, Lisa Shearin

Difficult Women, Roxanne Gay

Our Own Private Universe, Robin Talley

One Blood Ruby, Melissa Marr

The Swan Riders, Erin Bow

Passenger, Alexandra Bracken

Silver Master, Jayne Castle

Dark Light, Jayne Castle

Etched in Bone, Anne Bishop

Cowboys Are My Weakness, Pam Houston

Strange the Dreamer, Laini Taylor

April – 13

Aerie, Maria Dahvana Headley

Into the Fire, Jeaniene Frost

Obsidian Prey, Jayne Castle

Midnight Crystal, Jayne Castle

Canyons of Night, Jayne Castle

A Conjuring of Light, Victoria Schwab

Listen to the Moon, Rose Lerner

Beheld, Alex Flynn

Wayfarer, Alexnadra Bracken

The Song Rising, Samantha Shannon

Silence Fallen, Patricia Briggs

Because of the Sun, Jenny Torres Sanchez

The Hating Game, Sally Thorne

May – 19

Big Little Lies, Lianne Mortiarty

Crown Duel, Sherwood Smith

Spindle, EK Johnston

Always and Forever, Lara Jean, Jenny Han

The Bone Witch, Rin Chupeco

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, JK Rowling*

Empress of a Thousand Skies, Rhoda Belleza

The Thief, Megan Whalen Turner*

The Queen of Attolia, Megan Whalen Turner

The King of Attolia, Megan Whalen Turner

A Conspiracy of Kings, Megan Whalen Turner

Thick as Thieves, Megan Whalen Turner

Tales of the Peculiar, Ransom Riggs

It Ends with Us, Colleen Hoover

Hunted, Meagan Spooner

The Chosen, JR Ward

The Girl from Everywhere, Heidi Heilig

Lord of Shadows, Cassandra Clare

A Crown of Wishes, Roshani Chokshi

June – 23

Girl Out of Water, Laura

Radio Silence, Alice Oseman

The Lost Night, Jayne Castle

Caraval, Stephanie Garber

Cold-Hearted Rake, Lisa Kleypas

Starfall, Melissa Landers

Marrying Winterbourne, Lisa Kleypas

How to Be a Person in the World, Heather Havrilesky

Devil in Spring, Lisa Kleypas

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, JK Rowling*

Stranger in My Arms, Lisa Kleypas

Grunt, Mary Roach

Again the Magic, Lisa Kleypas

The Hate U Give, Angie Thomas

A Court of Wings and Ruin, Sarah J Maas

The Cold Eye, Laura Anne Gilman

Secrets of a Summer’s Night, Lisa Kleypas

It Happened One Autumn, Lisa Kleypas

The Devil in Winter, Lisa Kleypas

A Scandal in Spring, Lisa Kleypas

Stiff, Mary Roach*

Damaged Like Us, Krista and Becca Ritchie

Deception Cove, Jayne Ann Krentz

July – 19

White Hot, Ilona Andrews

Now I Rise, Kiersten White

The Distance Between Us, Kasie West

As You Wish, Cary Elwes*

Wintersong, S Jae Jones

Our Dark Duet, Victoria Schwab

A Wallflower Christmas, Lisa Kleypas

The Hot Zone, Jayne Castle

Not Your Sidekick, CB Lee

All-American Girl, Meg Cabot

Indigo, Beverly Jenkins

Mine Till Midnight, Lisa Kleypas

Unnatural Deeds, Cyn Balog

Avenged, Amy Tintera

The Upside of Unrequited, Becky Albertalli

Seduce Me at Sunrise, Lisa Kleypas

Tempt Me at Twilight, Lisa Kleypas

The People We Hate at the Wedding, Grant Ginder

The Ship Beyond Time, Heidi Heilig

August – 15

History is All You Left Me, Adam Silvera

Love in the Afternoon, Lisa Kleypas

Frogkisser! Garth Nix

Dating You, Hating You, Christina Lauren

Wildfire, Ilona Andrews

Swarm, Scott Westerfeld et al

Split the Sun, Tessa Elwood

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue, Mackenzi Lee

Night Hawk, Beverley Jenkins

Unleashed, Sophie Jordan

Masquerade, Laura Lam

The Wish Granter, CJ Redwine

In Other Lands, Sarah Rees Brennan

Married by Morning, Lisa Kleypas

Gem and Dixie, Sara Zarr

September – 14

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, JK Rowling et al

The Angel of Losses, Stephanie Feldman

David, Johnny Worthen

Down Among the Sticks and Bones, Seanan McGuire

Carve the Mark, Veronica Roth

Slammed, Colleen Hoover

Silver Silence, Nalini Singh

Genuine Fraud, E Lockhart

Girl Mans Up, ME Girard

Dreaming of You, Lisa Kleypas

Crazy Rich Asians, Kevin Kwan

Then Came You, Lisa Kleypas

When Dimple Met Rishi, Sandhya Menon

Topaz, Beverley Jenkins

October – 15

Vanguard, Ann Aguirre

The Pearl Thief, Elizabeth Wein

The Ruby in the Smoke, Philip Pullman

The Debt, Karina Halle

Point of Retreat, Colleen Hoover

Crystal Storm, Morgan Rhodes

The Courtesan Duchess, Joanna Shupe

The Harlot Countess, Joanna Shupe

The Lady Hellion, Joanna Shupe

Turtles All the Way Down, John Green

Good Behavior, Blake Crouch

Sunshine, Robin McKinley

Warcross, Marie Lu

Someone to Watch Over Me, Lisa Kleypas

Lovers Like Us, Krista and Becca Ritchie

November – 26

The Scorpio Races, Maggie Stiefvater

Tower of Dawn, Sarah J Maas

Iron Cast, Destiny Soria

Lady Sophia’s Lover, Lisa Kleypas

Worth Any Price, Lisa Kleypas

Where’s My Hero? Kisa Kleypas et al

Roar, Cora Carmack

Somewhere I’ll Find You, Lisa Kleypas

China Rich Girlfriend, Kevin Kwan

Less, Andrew Sean Greer

Because You’re Mine, Lisa Kleypas

All the Dirty Parts, Daniel Handler

Jane, Unlimited, Kristin Cashore

Where Dreams Begin, Lisa Kleypas

The Shadow in the North, Philip Pullman

In the Wreckage, Hailey Turner

10% Happier, Dan Harris

Archangel’s Viper, Nalini Singh

Suddenly You, Lisa Kleypas

The Possible, Tara Altebrando

In the Ruins, Hailey Turner

Before the Devil Breaks You, Libba Bray

Ringer, Lauren Oliver

When Strangers Marry, Lisa Kleypas

Terminal Alliance, Jim Hines

Only with Your Love, Lisa Kleypas

December – 27

The Way I Used to Be, Amber Smith

Want, Cindy Pon

Midnight Angel, Lisa Kleypas

Rich People Problems, Kevin Kwan

Dress Codes for Small Towns, Courtney Stevens

Prince of Dreams, Lisa Kleypas

In the Shadows, Hailey Turner

The Knowing, Sharon Cameron

Release, Patrick Ness

A Line in the Dark, Malinda Lo

Love, Come to Me, Lisa Kleypas

Con and Conjure, Lisa Shearin

Always Hungry? David Ludwig

One Dark Throne, Kendare Blake

In the Blood, Hailey Turner

Rosemary and Rue, Seanan McGuire

The Language of Thorns, Leigh Bardugo

Heat Wave, Karina Halle

Far From the Tree, Robin Benway

All Spell Breaks Loose, Lisa Shearin

The Girl in the Tower, Katherine Arden

A Local Habitation, Seanan McGuire

An Artificial Night, Seanan McGuire

Late Eclipses, Seanan McGuire

One Salt Sea, Seanan McGuire

Wedding Bells, Magic Spells, Lisa Shearin

The Omnivore’s Dilemma, Michael Pollan

#b reads #b reads 2017 #my favorite

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tomorrowedblog · 5 years

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Friday Releases for May 31

Friday is the busiest day of the week for new releases, so we’ve decided to collect them all in one place. Friday Releases for May 31 include Godzilla: King of the Monsters, Swamp Thing, When They See Us, and more.

Godzilla: King of the Monsters

Godzilla: King of the Monsters, the new movie from Michael Dougherty, is out today.

Following the global success of “Godzilla” and “Kong: Skull Island” comes the next chapter in Warner Bros. Pictures’ and Legendary Pictures’ cinematic MonsterVerse, an epic action adventure that pits Godzilla against some of the most popular monsters in pop culture history. The new story follows the heroic efforts of the crypto-zoological agency Monarch as its members face off against a battery of god-sized monsters, including the mighty Godzilla, who collides with Mothra, Rodan, and his ultimate nemesis, the three-headed King Ghidorah. When these ancient super-species—thought to be mere myths—rise again, they all vie for supremacy, leaving humanity’s very existence hanging in the balance.

Ma, the new movie from Tate Taylor, is out today.

Oscar winner Octavia Spencer stars as Sue Ann, a loner who keeps to herself in her quiet Ohio town. One day, she is asked by Maggie, a new teenager in town (Diana Silvers, Glass), to buy some booze for her and her friends, and Sue Ann sees the chance to make some unsuspecting, if younger, friends of her own.

She offers the kids the chance to avoid drinking and driving by hanging out in the basement of her home. But there are some house rules: One of the kids has to stay sober. Don’t curse. Never go upstairs. And call her “Ma.”

But as Ma’s hospitality starts to curdle into obsession, what began as a teenage dream turns into a terrorizing nightmare, and Ma’s place goes from the best place in town to the worst place on earth.

Rocketman

Rocketman, the new movie from Dexter Fletcher, is out today.

ROCKETMAN is an epic musical fantasy about the uncensored human story of Elton John’s breakthrough years, starring Taron Egerton, Jamie Bell, Richard Madden and Bryce Dallas Howard.

The Fall of the American Empire

The Fall of the American Empire, the new movie from Denys Arcand, is out today.

Pierre-Paul Daoust, 36, an intellectual with a PhD in philosophy is forced to work as a deliveryman to afford a decent living. One day, while delivering a parcel, he gets caught in a hold up gone terribly wrong: two dead and millions in money bags laying on the ground. Pierre-Paul is confronted with a dilemma leave empty handed, or take the money and run?

Domino

Domino, the new movie from Brian De Palma, is out today.

A Copenhagen police officer seeks justice for his partner’s murder by a mysterious man.

Cargo

Cargo, the new movie from Kareem Mortimer, is out today.

Kevin Pinder is a fisherman whose life is unraveling. Fish stocks are low, his boat is broken, he owes tuition for his son at an expensive private school and his home life is in shambles with his agoraphobic wife and mother who suffers from dementia. The only way Kevin is able to achieve any sort of release is through gambling. After wasting all of his remaining funds at a gambling house he is approached by a security guard, Mark, who suggests that Kevin supplement his income by using his fishing vessel as a means to transport people illegally into the United States. At first, Kevin dismisses this as a viable option but when pressures mount for him to perform financially he returns to Mark and accepts the offer.

Always Be My Maybe

Always Be My Maybe, the new movie from Nahnatchka Khan, is out today.

Everyone assumed Sasha and Marcus would wind up together except for Sasha and Marcus. Reconnecting after 15 years, the two start to wonder… maybe?

Deadwood: The Movie

Deadwood: The Movie, the new movie from Daniel Minahan and David Milch, is out today.

Former rivalries are reignited, alliances are tested and old wounds are reopened, as all are left to navigate the inevitable changes that modernity and time have wrought.

When They See Us

When They See Us, the new TV series from Ava DuVernay, is out today.

Based on a true story that gripped the country, When They See Us will chronicle the notorious case of five teenagers of color, labeled the Central Park Five, who were convicted of a rape they did not commit. The four part limited series will focus on the five teenagers from Harlem – Antron McCray, Kevin Richardson, Yusef Salaam, Raymond Santana and Korey Wise. Beginning in the spring of 1989, when the teenagers were first questioned about the incident, the series will span 25 years, highlighting their exoneration in 2002 and the settlement reached with the city of New York in 2014.

Good Omens

Good Omens, the new TV series from Douglas Mackinnon, Neil Gaiman, and Terry Pratchett, is out today.

The End of the World is coming, which means a fussy Angel and a loose-living Demon who’ve become overly fond of life on Earth are forced to form an unlikely alliance to stop Armageddon. But they have lost the Antichrist, an 11-year-old boy unaware he’s meant to bring upon the end of days, forcing them to embark on an adventure to find him and save the world before it’s too late.

How to Sell Drugs Online (Fast)

How to Sell Drugs Online (Fast), the new TV series from Philipp Käßbohrer, is out today.

Moritz’s nerdy days are soon to be over when he decides to launch an online drug business with his best friend, Lenny.

Swamp Thing

Swamp Thing, the new TV series from Gary Dauberman and Mark Verheiden, is out today.

SWAMP THING follows Abby Arcane as she investigates what seems to be a deadly swamp-born virus in a small town in Louisiana but soon discovers that the swamp holds mystical and terrifying secrets. When unexplainable and chilling horrors emerge from the murky marsh, no one is safe.

#Movies #TV #GodzillaKingOfTheMonsters #Ma #Rocketman #TheFallOfTheAmericanEmpire #Domino #Cargo #AlwaysBeMyMaybe #DeadwoodTheMovie #WhenTheySeeUs #GoodOmens #HowToSellDrugsOnlineFast #SwampThing #News

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girlsbtrs · 3 years

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Fearlessly Taylor: Owning Her Work One Re-recorded Album At A Time

Written by Aja Landolfi. Graphic by James Nida Grey.

Releasing her first single, Tim McGraw, back in 2006, Taylor Swift quickly rose to fame as an American pop and country singer/songwriter. Like most endeavors, though, her rise to stardom has not come without its fair share of challenges.

From Kanye West interrupting her win for the best female video at the 2009 MTV Video Music Awards, to her feud with Spotify to pay artists the royalties they deserve in 2014, to constantly having to defend and prove herself as a woman who does more than “date men to write hits,” Taylor has never been afraid to push back against the critics.

Her latest undertaking against the music industry - wanting to own what belongs to her and make sure other artists do not face the same dilemma.

From 2006 to 2018, Taylor was under contract with Big Machine Label Group. Under this contract, she wrote her first six albums; Taylor Swift, Fearless, Speak Now, Red, 1989, and Reputation. In 2018, the contract came to an end and with it, so did her rights to her recording masters.

For any 15-year-old, signing a music contract is complex, and most don’t understand exactly what terms they agree to 100%. Taylor was no different. When signing the contract at the start of her career, she didn’t realize that Big Machine Label Group owned the rights to her recording masters. When having to decide to resign or not, she realized that if she continued to work with Big Machine Label Group, she would be stuck in an endless loop trying to earn back the rights to her masters. For every new album she released with the group, she would get the rights to one of her old masters in return. Not wanting to get stuck in this continuous loop, Taylor decided to sign with a new label, Republic Records, instead, where she made sure her new contract stated that she owned her recording masters to all her work to come.

For an artist, owning your recording masters is extremely important.

A masters is the official recording of a song, sound, or performance.

It is the source from which all later copies are made and whoever owns the rights to them has the right to license out the recordings and collect royalties off of them. Deciding to leave Big Machine led to Taylor having to leave the rights to the recording masters for her first six albums behind and losing her power to say where and how her music is used, and she could not perform her old songs live.

The real issue lies in the fact that, according to Taylor, she never got the chance to buy the rights to her recording masters back herself. Instead, the CEO of Big Machine Label Group, Scott Borchetta, sold them to the CEO of Ithaca Holdings, Scooter Braun, who then turned around and sold them to Shamrock Capital. Everyone else who wanted her masters seemed to get them, except Taylor herself.

Taylor’s solution to this? Re-record her first six albums.

She will start with her first five albums while she waits for her re-recording contract for Reputation to come to an end in November of 2022. Doing so will diminish the values of the originals, so the companies who have purchased them will not capitalize on them nearly as much as they expected, but it will also give Taylor the rights to her recording masters for these new versions of songs.

Taylor released her first of the six re-recorded albums, Fearless (Taylor’s Version), on April 9. Taylor kept pretty close to the original during this release, only changing a few noticeable instrumentals here and there and having a more mature voice. For many longtime fans, this means they get to relive the nostalgia of the Fearless era all over again, with a new perspective of having lived life and being more grown-up now. But that’s not all Taylor also included six extra songs on her version that never made the original Fearless cut back in 2008.

Proving everyone wrong, Fearless (Taylor’s Version) hit #1 on the U.S. Apple Music charts and on the Billboard 200 as well.

While Taylor is fearlessly pushing the industry norms, let this be a lesson to new artists to make sure you own the rights to your work, recording masters included.

Listen to Fearless (Taylor’s Version) out now!

Spotify | Apple Music

#Aja Landolfi

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brajeshupadhyay · 4 years

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Jobs recovery could be choppy—some coming back quickly, others gone

Jason Redmond | Reuters

TJ Wilson is no stranger to hunting for jobs.

A consultant based in Los Angeles, Wilson often has a few weeks or months in between contract roles with different cosmetics companies. It’s a cycle he has followed over the past five years, working with different employers for about six months at a time. But when his latest contract ran out in early March, the process no longer followed the same script.

“Typically, when I’m working with recruiters, I get calls two or three times a week about a job,” Wilson said. “And now all those calls have just disappeared.”

Wilson is one of more than 30 million Americans who have filed new jobless claims since the coronavirus pandemic ground the national economy to a standstill. April saw the most job losses in a single month on record, according to the Labor Department, led by a decline of more than 7.6 million jobs in the business and hospitality sector.

Professional and business services, where Wilson would most likely be categorized, lost more than 2 million jobs.

Nearly 80%, or roughly 18 million, of those who lost jobs in April told the Labor Department they thought their layoffs were temporary, but as cities and states slowly lift restrictions, it’s not clear how soon or if those jobs will return.

“There will be millions of those 18 million that will be called back to work,” said Luke Tilley, chief economist at Wilmington Trust. “But we think that many more millions of them are likely to end up as an actual job loss.”

Potential bright spots

The official unemployment rate soared to 14.7% in April, and many, including Treasury Secretary Steve Mnuchin, have said they expect it to rise again next month. Goldman Sachs economists said in a note to clients that they expect unemployment in the United States to peak at 25%.

But even if the top-line number gets worse, there could be sector-level information that shows the reopenings or government relief programs are working. Construction, which lost just under 1 million jobs in April, could see a boost in employment as restrictions are lifted for workplaces where physical distancing is easier, Tilley said.

The sector could also see outsized results from the Paycheck Protection Program, Tilley said, because those companies will find it easier to meet the requirement to spend 75% of the loan on payroll costs to turn it into a grant.

“Equipment that they rent, materials that they are bringing in for any specific job, are sort of a variable cost. So construction companies have an easier time going about taking PPP loans, paying their people,” Tilley said.

Goldman Sachs was less bullish on construction’s recovery but did point to manufacturing as a potential bright spot.

“One lesson we have taken from reopening experiences abroad is that it is easier to make production sites safe than to safely reopen many consumer activities, suggesting that the rebound will be quicker in the manufacturing sector,” the bank said.

Even if those sectors are able to recoup some of their job losses in coming months, they may still be hampered by a weaker economy overall, said Lowell Taylor, an economics professor at Carnegie Mellon University.

“This is the kind of nightmare scenario with things like construction and manufacturing — that the goals for activities decline,” Taylor said. “Projects that would have been done just get postponed or just put off indefinitely.”

A slow recovery

Wilson said he is prepared to look for different types of roles to find work again, and workers in other slow recovering sectors may face the same dilemma.

“Leisure and Hospitality is going to remain incredibly challenged. Some of those other sectors, we think it’s going to be challenging for those to come back as well,” Tilley said.

Some of the job losses were in areas that some considered to be close to recession-proof. Dental offices alone shed more than 500,000 jobs in April as elective medical procedures were banned in many areas to preserve personal protective equipment.

Tilley said he is skeptical nonemergency medical jobs will recover quickly with people nervous about being in close contact with each other.

The slower the return to normal in those sectors, the more economic activity will be permanently lost, Taylor said.

“That truly can’t last forever. Those jobs would bounce back, you’d think. People still need dental services,” Taylor said. “But how quickly? … How many people are just going to skip their next checkup and clean? And that lost revenue will never come back.”

Subscribe to CNBC PRO for exclusive insights and analysis, and live business day programming from around the world.

The post Jobs recovery could be choppy—some coming back quickly, others gone appeared first on Sansaar Times.

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glenngaylord · 4 years

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TRILOGY OF TERRORISM - My Review Of WHERE WE GO FROM HERE (3 1/2 Stars)

Most dramatic stories follow a three-act structure, starting with an inciting incident, then a period of rising action, and ending in a climax/resolution. Of course, we’ve seen many filmmakers break that mold, with Pulp Fiction and Last Year At Marienbad coming instantly to mind. Writer/Director Anthony Meindl, best known as the founder of his international acting studios, makes his feature debut with such a film, Where We Go From Here, and it’s a powerful, unique, swing for the fences experience.

Told as three separate yet thematically connected storylines, Meindl has crafted a film where the so-called inciting incidents don’t occur until the very end. As such, we enter the lives of a gay couple in Orlando, Florida, a quartet of Parisians whose intermingling triggers deep emotional feelings, and a woman in southern New York, who’s trapped in a violent relationship. Each storyline features acts of gun violence, but the bulk of the film invites us to experience the specific humanity of its characters.

Ricky (Meindl), a middle-aged, successful man, lives with his much younger boyfriend Raul (a touching, natural Matt Pascua), and their age difference brings up all the the expected issues. Raul wants to go out and have fun while Ricky prefers to chill out at home. In a strong sequence, Raul lays out his dilemma to Brenda (fine, subtle work by Ada Luz Pla), their housekeeper. Speaking in Spanish, Brenda speaks of escaping her war torn country, coming to America, and wondering if things truly got better for her. Her rapport with Raul makes it easier for him to open up and tell her, “When you tell me something, I totally get it…but when Ricky tries to help, I hate him for it.” Brenda’s hilarious and perfect response is, “That’s because you and I are not fucking!” In this microcosm lies what Meindl is astutely after with his film. Relationships complicate things, bringing out the best and worst in us. They say regrettable things to each other, and in looking at the film overall, it acts as a subtle instructive to approach our differences in a more loving fashion.

The second story, set in Paris, focuses on Adele (Camille De Pazzis) and Mathilde (Justine Wachsberger), who we meet after having sex. Both women, however, have male partners, and when the four get together later to have dinner and attend a concert, they raise issues of sexual fluidity and how that impacts men with their patriarchal, sexist points of view. Again, we see relationships at a crossroads where an agreement seems so far out of reach.

Finally, we meet Elena (Olivia Taylor Dudley), an ESL teacher in Binghampton, New York, who struggles to escape with her young son from an abusive marriage. As she encounters one obstacle after another, we fear for her and root for a better destiny. Dudley is a sensational actor, beautifully showing us every beat, every painful decision, every moment of humiliation as she strives for a better life. All of the actors, many of whom are students of Meindl’s, bring vibrancy and warmth to their roles as an almost palpable sense of tragedy hovers over each of them.

These stories build up an unnerving sense of dread, not so much for what happens at the climax, but by how we can feel something slowly slipping through the fingers of our main characters. On first viewing, I made the assumption that the climaxes were those inciting incidents, but in looking again, Meindl very slyly makes a first disagreement or a barrier to success the moment where everything changes. It’s there when Ricky and Raul can’t agree on how to spend their evening, or how our French quartet mingles on a dance floor. When Elena goes to a bank to clear out her savings, the “no” she gets from the teller affects everything that follows.

I’m reminded of a fantastic film from 1975, The Day Of The Locust, directed by the great John Schlesinger, in which we follow a host of characters in 1930s Hollywood, come to care about them, only to end up with a deadly melee at the end. One could also cite Robert Altman’s Nashville as a similar experience. Where We Go From Here may not be at the level of those two classics, but as an ultra low-budget feature debut, Meindl has certainly not gone down an expected path. He plays with structure and expectations, bringing great empathy to his main characters and punching you in the gut at times when you least expect it. His cinematographer Ray Wongchinda brings a fluidity and gorgeous shallow focus to his shots and makes this film look more expensive than you’d think. They shot a third of this film in Paris on very little money. That’s impressive. I also love when filmmakers with limited funds find perfect solutions to bringing complex scenes to life. My limiting the points of view to our central characters, the violence, when it comes, feels appropriately contained, giving us, the viewers, an insight into what it’s like when something horrific erupts around you can you don’t understand what’s really occurring. The issues this film raises about terrorism and especially domestic violence, couldn’t be more timely. So many people have found themselves sheltered-at-home with an abuser, making a challenging time in our history even more dire. This is a timely, heartfelt film experience. I can’t wait to see what Meindl and company do next.

Where We Go From Here is currently streaming for free on Hulu and is available on VOD at the usual online outlets.

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biofunmy · 5 years

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Boris Johnson, Giuseppe Conte, Dorian: Your Friday Briefing

(Want to get this briefing by email? Here’s the sign-up.)

Good morning.

We’re covering Boris Johnson’s promises to speed up Brexit talks, how Giuseppe Conte went from irrelevant to irreplaceable and a chicken-sandwich battle for the ages.

Mr. Johnson promised that Britain’s Brexit negotiators would sit down with their European counterparts twice a week through September, with the possibility of additional technical meetings, to try to reach a deal that would avert the risk of a cliff-edge departure.

“While I have been encouraged with my discussions with E.U. leaders over recent weeks that there is a willingness to talk about alternatives to the anti-democratic backstop,” he said in comments released by his office, “it is now time for both sides to step up the tempo.”

Details: The Conservative Party leader in Scotland, Ruth Davidson, resigned, and Lord Young of Cookham, a former cabinet minister, resigned as a Conservative whip in the House of Lords on Thursday.

Meaning: The move seemed to acknowledge the mounting concern about the suspension of Parliament, a decision that provoked spontaneous protests in London and other cities.

How Giuseppe Conte became irreplaceable

The departing prime minister of Italy, after 14 months of being ignored and mocked, has been using his resignation last week to catapult himself into a leading role in the country’s government.

In accepting the mandate to form a government on Thursday, Mr. Conte said that he wanted to win back lost time “to allow Italy, a founding member of the European Union, to rise again as a protagonist” and “transform this moment of crisis into an opportunity.”

What’s next: Mr. Conte will now begin meetings with all party leaders and is expected next week to submit to President Sergio Mattarella a cabinet that, if approved, will be brought to Parliament for a confidence vote.

Reminder: Mr. Conte will preside over a populist/anti-populist coalition between the Five Star Movement and the center-left Democratic Party.

What genes say (and don’t say) about sexuality

An ambitious new study found that many genes play a role in sexual behavior, and that there is no one “gay gene.”

The study in the journal Science found that genes account for perhaps a third of the influence on whether someone has same-sex sex, along with social and environmental factors.

“I hope that the science can be used to educate people a little bit more about how natural and normal same-sex behavior is,” said one of the lead researchers. “It’s written into our genes and it’s part of our environment. This is part of our species and it’s part of who we are.”

Perspective: One of the study’s researchers and a colleague, both gay men, parse the implications and limitations of the work in an Op-Ed.

Accused of recruiting for Jeffrey Epstein

The Times is reporting on disturbing new accusations that Jeffrey Epstein relied on a ring of women close to him to feed his insatiable appetite for girls.

Mr. Epstein’s accusers contend in court papers that his onetime partner Ghislaine Maxwell, along with a small cadre of other women — including several assistants and one referred to as Ms. Maxwell’s “lieutenant” — helped Mr. Epstein lure girls into his orbit and managed the logistics of his encounters with them.

Legal dilemma: Experts also told The Times that prosecutors may struggle in deciding whether to charge the women, because some may have initially been victims themselves.

If you have 8 minutes, this is worth it

Those excluded from France’s sacred August holidays

France is famous for its long summer vacations. In Paris, handwritten notes pop up on the doors of the local bakery, brasserie or locksmith indicating that the owners are away and that you should be, too.

But for many, vacations are becoming increasingly out of reach financially, especially as traditional summer hot spots cater to high-income clients. The gap reflects an increasingly unequal French society — another sign of the things that gave rise to the Yellow Vest movement.

Here’s what else is happening

Measles: There is a “dramatic resurgence” in the disease on the Continent, the World Health Organization said — fueled in part by a rising wave of people who are refusing to be vaccinated. Albania, Britain, the Czech Republic and Greece joined 12 other nations where the disease is endemic.

Hurricane Dorian: The powerful storm is on course to hit Florida as a Category 4 hurricane. It could start as early as Saturday night, with winds of up to 130 miles per hour. Forecasters predict that the hurricane will drop 4 to 8 inches of rain, with up to a foot in some areas.

Climate change: The Trump administration laid out a far-reaching plan to cut back on the regulation of methane emissions, a major contributor to climate change.

Colombia: A former rebel commander called for a return to arms, saying the government has failed to honor the peace deal that ended a 52-year war.

Snapshot: Above, a Popeyes location that sold out of chicken sandwiches in New York, after Twitter insults led to the most successful product launch in the fast-food chain’s history. A viral social media debate between Popeyes and Chick-fil-A had customers flocking to restaurants across the country to see for themselves — and it turned into a logistical headache.

U.S. Open: Taylor Townsend upset the Wimbledon champion Simona Halep for the biggest win of her career. Coco Gauff, the 15-year-old who has captivated the tennis world, beat Timea Babos to reach the third round. Next she will face the defending champion, Naomi Osaka.

What we’re reading: This piece in the Atlantic. Remy Tumin on the briefings team, says: “My friend and former colleague Peter Brannen puts the fires in the Amazon into the context of humanity’s burning of fossil fuels, which summons ‘creatures long dead to return to Earth’s surface and give up the ancient energy they took to the grave,’ he writes.”

Now, a break from the news

Listen: Lana Del Rey’s fifth major-label album, “Norman ____ Rockwell!,” is a collaboration with Jack Antonoff packed with fiery lyrics.

Smarter Living: One thing you can do for the environment is drive less. Our Climate Fwd: newsletter did the math for the U.S. Since Americans drive trillions of miles every year, a 10 percent reduction would equal taking about 28 coal-fired power plants offline for a year. Short trips are the lowest-hanging fruit — you can ditch the car and walk, bike or take public transit.

And if you use Slack to escape from email hell, we can help you keep it from taking over your life.

And now for the Back Story on …

Namor, the Sub-Mariner

The Marvel Comics character turns 80 on Saturday. Created by the writer-artist Bill Everett, he has been a villain, a hero, a corporate tycoon and more.

In his origin story, published on Aug. 31, 1939, he is a force of nature personified. Two divers who spot him in the ocean depths are in awe of “the long strokes of his powerful arms.”

Under water, his hair and skin color vary. On land, he has brown hair and is Caucasian — closer to his modern look.

The cartoonist Art Spiegelman, writing about how fascism shaped the golden age of comics in the 1940s, noted that the volatile Sub-Mariner was “a marked contrast to the square and square-jawed vigilante do-gooders who lived in the less scruffy DC Comics neighbourhood.”

The reason for Namor’s rage resonates today: undersea explosions set off by a scientific expedition. With the kingdom of Atlantis threatened, his mother tells him, “It is your duty to lead us into battle!” And so he has, for eight decades and counting.

That’s it for this briefing. We’re off on Monday for the U.S. Labor Day holiday. See you next time.

— Melina

Thank you Mark Josephson, Eleanor Stanford and Chris Harcum provided the break from the news. George Gustines, a senior editor for graphics and video, wrote today’s Back Story. You can reach the team at [email protected].

P.S. • We’re listening to “The Daily.” Our latest episode is about Uber’s struggle to make a profit. • Here’s today’s Mini Crossword puzzle, and a clue: Philosopher John who lent his name to a “Lost” character (five letters). You can find all our puzzles here. • On Thursday, we distributed 2,000 copies of the Times Magazine special issue “The 1619 Project,” along with a related newspaper section, for free to readers outside our headquarters in New York.

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