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your-divine-ribs · 28 days

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I’m With the Band Part 9

Words: 2k

Those smutty merch boards make an appearance… 🤭

I’m With the Band Masterlist Main Masterlist

I linger around the bar area whilst the band are setting up their kit. The drink choice in here is pretty dire and I end up reluctantly ordering a lager.

"Hold on... make that 6 pints actually," I tell the bartender, with the lads in mind.

"Now there's a welcoming sight!" Johnny smiles as he sees me making my way across the room, awkwardly carrying three pints which is as many as I can manage in one go. "Here... let me give you a hand..."

I thank him as he jumps down from the stage and rushes over to the bar to grab the remaining plastic pint glasses. "So... have I converted you to lager then?"

"It's not like I've got a lot of choice in here," I start to grumble, about to go off on a rant, but then I check myself. I really don't want Johnny to think that I'm fussy and difficult. "But it's not so bad," I add quickly. "Maybe I'll get even more used to it when we're on tour."

This comment raises a joyful smile on Johnny's face. "You know I'm so glad you're coming with us, I'm really looking forward to spending more time with you."

The feeling's mutual, I think, but I don't say it.

"I'm sure it's going to be loads of fun," I reply as I reach the stage and Johnny boosts himself up and reaches for his guitar. "Hey... maybe you could teach me how to play the guitar or something while we're on the road."

I don't actually mean it, but Johnny's eyes have lit up like I've suggested something truly amazing. "You know, that's a brilliant idea. I'd love to! I'm a really good teacher... I'm very patient."

Van's adjusting the height of his microphone stand and he looks up when he catches the tail end of my and Johnny's conversation. "What are you pair on about?"

I don't get chance to answer as at that precise moment Larry strides in, his voice loud and booming. "Here it is lads!"

I turn to see him carrying a large board with handwritten scrawl all over it. "This is the best one yet, I'm telling ya!"

"C'mon then, let's see!" Van shouts, excitement in his voice.

Johnny shakes his head but he's smiling nevertheless. "I swear you guys are gonna get in trouble for this one day. Someone's gonna take offence ya know."

"What is it?" I ask, intrigued.

Larry's grin gets wider if that's even possible as he turns the board towards me so that I can view it properly. "Made us our own special merch board to put behind the stand. We do one for every gig!"

My eyes dart over the board which is advertising all sorts of lewd services, each with a price. Notable mentions are 'signed titties £2', 'cum shots £3' and a 'catfish special' which would set the lucky purchaser back... yes you guessed it... £69.

I feel like I've been transported back to secondary school amongst a group of pre-pubescent boys the way they all start sniggering at my look of disgust.

"For fucks sake Larry!" I groan. "How old are you? 15? Please don't tell me you're actually going to display this!"

"Larry... I told you to leave me out of this!" Bob suddenly stops laughing as he notices that he's got a special mention on the board. "If Lucy sees it she's going to go mad!"

"Kate's not going to be happy either," Benji adds, but then he reads a line marketing Larry's services and his face creases as he can't hold back a laugh.

"Come on Bells, it's dead funny, and no one actually takes it seriously," Larry says, then he gives me a wink. "Hey I'm sure Van'll give you a discount if you ask nicely!"

The guys erupt into laughter again, and I try to keep a straight face but actually, I'm starting to see the funny side. I'm not sure whether it's because I've just spotted 'Exorcism by Van £25' on the board, or the fact that as I stand there with the lads and watch them laughing and joking with each other I'm suddenly struck by how daft and down to earth and just... plain normal they all are.

They're not like the boys from back home at all. They're not like Dominic who threw a hissy fit when I got lip gloss on his dad's Porsche's leather seats, or Oscar who would rather bore me about the size of his trust fund rather than actually listen to what I've got to say. In fact they couldn't be more different. And I'm growing to like it in spite of myself.

"I can't believe the small print!" I giggle as I read it out loud. "'Orgasm not guaranteed due to small penis disease!' I mean, you're not exactly selling it are you lads? You should be 'bigging' yourselves up, if you know what I mean!"

This comment earns me laughs all round and various other suggestions for the board are bandied around which have us all cracking up until we're clutching our bellies and have tears rolling down our cheeks. I can't remember the last time I just let go and laughed so much.

"That's nothing Arabella," Johnny grins. "You should hear what Van tells interviewers about his... errr... bedroom skills!"

"Yeah!" Benji chips in, looking at Van. "What was it you said at that interview last week? Oh yeah, that's it. 'I'm so, so, so bad in bed!'"

I look at Van too, raising my eyebrows with a smirk. He just looks right back at me, mirroring my smirk with one of his own, shrugging as he speaks. "Well? Never had any complaints, have I? Must be 'cause I'm incredible with my hands!"

I've practically drained my second pint of lager by the time the lads are ready to properly soundcheck, and I'm having a great time. I'm flitting between the boys, getting to know each of them better, and my London friends and all the parties that I'm sure to be missing out on couldn't be further from my mind.

"Are you ready then Bella?" Van says, giving me a look which makes my belly flip and I nod, jumping down from the stage and taking a spot right at the front with a perfect view of all the boys. If only the venue could remain like this for the whole evening with me as the only audience member.

Van turns to the other band members and they discuss what they're going to play, deciding on a couple of old songs.

The first thing I hear is Johnny's rousing guitar riffs, followed by Benji's bass and then Bob's drums kick in. The music pumps adrenaline straight into my bloodstream, and I can feel my body responding. I'd dance if I was in a crowd but I feel self-conscious on my own so I just nod my head and sway slightly to the beat.

Then Van starts strumming and he steps up to the mic, screwing his eyes shut as he begins to sing.

“She lights a cigarette in my face

And says let's get good and lost for a while

'Cause I can't stand the people round here”

Wow...

His voice is the perfect mixture of smooth and gravelly, and I find myself instantly hypnotised. I'm just glad he's got his eyes closed as I realise that I'm staring. Like properly staring. Fuck... seeing him up there on the stage is making my pulse start to race.

His eyes flick open and lock right on to mine as he sings the next line.

“The things that I do

Just to get you out of those clothes

Because they love my floor”

I never usually blush but this makes warmth instantly flood my cheeks. Van doesn't take his eyes off me for the rest of the song. He knows exactly what he's doing.

As soon as the song comes to an end, Van nods to Johnny and they immediately launch into another. Van's got that smouldering look in his eyes again as he starts to sing.

“When her mind's corrupt

She'll ring me up

And say baby I'm alone

And I've got ideas

Won't you please come and pick me up?”

He's got ideas? Well... I certainly have...

In fact if he doesn't stop looking at me like that I'm not going to be responsible for my own actions.

I eventually wrench my eyes away from Van to look at the other band members. Bob's totally immersed in the music, looking a million miles away from his shy self now, flinging his head around as he pounds out the beat. Benji's focussed, keeping his head down but as I watch he looks up to give me a sweet smile. My gaze travels to Johnny, and he's looking at me too. I watch his fingers fly effortlessly up and down the frets. He's absolutely mesmerising to look at... but still I find my eyes straying back to Van...

“I just want to know, how you feel, about us

And I, just want to know where you spent last night

'Cause I just want to know how you think about him when you're with me

Like you do with her, she said, please honey save it”

As the last bars of the song play out I begin to clap loudly. "You guys were pretty good, I'm impressed!" I grin at each of them in turn.

"Wait till ya see the real thing!" Van calls out, and I nod, then turn swiftly and make for the toilets.

What is it about musicians? I knew I had a weakness but these guys are going to get me into trouble, I just know it.

I finish up in the toilet and look at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are still a little flushed and my eyes are sparkling with excitement for what the rest of the evening will hold. I hate to admit it to myself but sending me to stay with Larry is turning out to be one of the best decisions my parents ever made. I pout at my reflection and push open the toilet door with force. I hear a loud "OOF" noise as the door connects hard with someone who's standing directly behind it.

"Oh my god I'm so so..." I begin, until I pull the door back to reveal Van standing there, grinning at me.

"Oh... it's just you..."

"I know you're pleased to see me really!" He smirks.

I don't say anything, just go to push past him but he steps in my path, barring my way. "So what did ya think then?"

He looks expectant, like he thinks I'll start simping on the spot, but I don't want to fuel his ego. "You were pretty good... like I said. I've only heard a few songs though."

"Maybe I wasn't on about the music..."

I can tell exactly what he's insinuating by his wolfish grin. He stands there, hands outstretched to the walls on either side of the thin corridor, like he's offering up some kind of irresistible treat to me just by being there. And the infuriating thing is... he actually is...

Don't give in Bella... play hard to get...

"God, you're so full of yourself!" I say, crossing my arms across my chest in a defensive pose.

Van just raises an eyebrow. "So you don't fancy me then?"

"Actually no I don't!" I retort. "Just because the fans are all falling over themselves to shag you, doesn't mean I am too! I have standards."

Van's grin grows even wider, clearly enjoying winding me up. "So if I went to kiss you right now, you'd stop me?"

I'm used to guys being upfront but Van's cocky brand of confidence is on a whole other level. And what's more, as maddening as I find it, it actually makes him even more tempting. I find my gaze dropping down to his lips which are slightly parted. They look soft and full, and very inviting...

I fix him with a seductive smile, looking up at him through my lashes. "Well, why don't you try it and find out...?"

#im with the band #van mccann fanfic #fanfic #vanfic

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rcmndedlisten · 2 years

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Interview: Kate Meizner of Jobber On The Band’s Debut EP ‘Hell In A Cell’

Photo courtesy of Sofie Vasquez

Fans of pro-wrestling know that behind every great persona or gimmick, there’s a human behind it all bringing those characters to life in front of them. Jobber is kind of like that, but for indie rock and wrestling nerds who enjoy their storylines being a mirror of their own lives, too. Helmed by Kate Meizner, who has spent her musical career playing in live bands for Snail Mail, Potty Mouth, and more recently, Maneka, she steps out to the front to lead a faction of grunge and ‘90s alternative riff rockers that go toe-to-toe with the daily grind inside the ring on the Brooklyn band’s great debut EP, Hell In A Cell.

+rcmndedlisten caught up with Kate via e-mail to talk about the crossover challenges between life as an independent musician and that of a grappler, entrance themes as inspo for their songwriting process, and putting all other bands on notice as to what their booking arc may look like leading up to shows moving forward.

youtube

+rl: The intersect between music culture and professional wrestling has been a long existing relationship. While there's no shortage of artists who've lent their talents to entrance songs, written music in concept about it or its stars, and even gotten into the ring, Hell In A Cell goes one step further in drawing a direct connection between the lifestyle of being a professional wrestler and that of the independent musician, the gig economy as well as anyone with a job to survive. How has your first-hand experience with the latter influenced your approach to writing about both wrestling and the creative grind in a way that mutually acknowledges each's shared battles?

Kate Meizner: I graduated college during the recession, and in my early 20s, I found myself bouncing around between temp gigs to make ends meet, typically office support roles or odd jobs. Convenience apps like TaskRabbit were somewhat new at the time, and I did all of that stuff. Most of the gigs paid minimum wage or less, didn't offer sick time or health insurance, and hours were inconsistent and subject to the whims of the ghouls in charge of my timesheet. Balancing these jobs with my multiple bands was a recipe for burnout. There was barely time for playing music because I was often picking up gig work to supplement income from other gig work. Gonna wager a guess that a lot of my peers in the arts can tell you the same story.

So..wrestling. Similar to musicians, wrestlers are artists and gig workers who have to navigate exploitative working environments with paltry labor protections. They’re constantly traveling and are expected to pay out of pocket for their travel expenses. Contracted wrestlers don’t get health insurance. Because wrestling falls at the intersection of sports and performing arts, it’s enough of a gray area that wrestlers don’t have the advantage of membership in athletic unions or performing arts unions like SAG-AFTRA. I recognized a lot of parallels between egregious labor practices in wrestling, gig-centered contract work (music, convenience economy apps), and even my own recent contractor jobs working in big tech, so songs like "Hell in a Cell" and "No Holds Barred" are meant to emphasize that link. I was searching for common ground across jobs that on the surface might seem incredibly different. The bullshit that comes along with gig work takes many shapes, but it's important to recognize bullshit for what it is.

+rl: Jobber itself is something of a Survivor Series team of a certain scene within Brooklyn's underground rock and experimental music circle. Entering the studio, it was initially you up front leading the group alongside Mike Falcone, former guitarist of Speedy Ortiz and current frontman in Hellrazor, whom you are also a part of (and recently released an excellent new album.) You've since added guitarist and keyboardist Michael Julius of Flash Trading and bassist Maggie Toth of Leafing to the fold. Mike's Hellrazor project uses his love of horror film as a jumping point in the songwriting much like Jobber does with wrestling. Does everyone in the band share in your passion for the squared circle?

KM: Wrestling fandom is not required to be in Jobber, as everyone in the band shares an affinity for big riffs and camp. But luckily it just so happens that Mike, Michael and I are huge wrestling fans. I actually met Michael Julius on Twitter and became IRL friends after inviting him to a Wrestlemania party I hosted at my apartment back in 2016. In a way, wrestling brought Jobber together. Wrestling brings the people together.

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+rl: One could easily argue that producer Justin Pizzoferrato is also like a ringside manager in recording form to the project, taking all your past experiences in playing live with bands as varied as Snail Mail, Potty Mouth, Maneka and the Glow, and applying them to a sound that honors grungy alternative, slacker indie, new wave and pop. It's not the hardcore or emo rap of Code Orange, Incendiary, God's Hate or Wicca Phase Springs Eternal that currently exists in the modern wrestling-music parallel. Did you have a certain idea as to what kind of sound you wanted to speak through to attract a different conversation about what Hell In A Cell takes on?

KM: When I got into wrestling as an adult (after a long hiatus), I was completely enamored by the spectacle of the ring entrance. A wrestler's entrance sequence is so important for establishing the gimmick and communicating what a wrestler is all about! As I got deeper and deeper into wrestling fandom, I began unearthing some incredible entrance themes from WCW circa 1995. I wanted Jobber to capture that moment in time when walking out to pyrotechnics and loud grunge-y alt rock was the norm. Starting a band that paid homage to the wrestling entrance music of years past also gave us some leverage to do more genre exploration than I have in other bands. Entrance themes have to be distinct and capture the essence of all sorts of uncanny characters, so we've got a lot of ground left to cover.

+rl: Wrestling legend Mick Foley -- also known as Mankind, Cactus Jack, and Dude Love -- provides a spoken word introduction to the EP on its intro track, aptly entitled "Mankind". How did that come about?

KM: Okay I'm not gonna give WWE another reason to serve me a cease and desist.

+rl: Independent wrestling photographer Sofie Vasquez, who is an active part in the local New York independent wrestling circuit, also created both your album art photo and press photos to further apply an authentic aesthetic to your work. You didn't leave any corners uncovered. Looking forward, what's on your bucket list as to where Jobber goes next in its art of indie rock 'n wrestling ambitions?

KM: Our goal is to keep exploring the wrestling theme and incorporate as many professional wrestling tropes as we possibly can into the band’s cinematic universe. I have a running list of ideas ranging from completely doable music video concepts to absolutely deranged pie in the sky ideas like booking a festival that recreates the 1999 MTV WCW Beach Brawl, but with current bands. In the near future, we want to collaborate on booking shows with local wrestling promotions, inject wrestling storylines into the band’s cinematic universe, and stir up drama with other bands to give people something to look forward to at the next gig. I’d eventually love to write entrance themes for real wrestlers, and maybe even play the song live while a wrestler is making their ring debut. Right now we’re finishing up our first album, which is entirely wrestling themed and dives into more specific moments in wrestling history. We’re so excited for everything to see the light of day.

Hell In A Cell by Jobber

EP Release Shows:

Jobber’s Hell In A Cell is available now on Exploding In Sound Records.

#interviews #jobber #exploding in sound records

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theglowyscorpio · 3 years

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all set | eren x reader

a/n: this is a story in the making, currently available at AO3 and Wattpad. If you like it, please don't hesitate to give me some kudos, leave a comment or maybe follow me on my social media! <3 Any feedback is highly appreciated since I'm just getting started!

pairing: eren yeager x female reader

tags: mature content, alternate universe (modern setting), college/university, recreational drug use, implied sexual content, M/F, F/F, the author is not religious lmao

word count: 4.3k

current chapters: 2/?

playlist: this one was made with a particular playlist in mind. they are really great songs that help to convey this chapter, so I hope you have a time to check them out! :)

a. slomosa - kevin b. upsahl - drugs c. rosenfeld - like u d. kaiba - overdose e. lil kapow - tinman f. bodega - how did this happen!?

***

all set

I lost count of how many parties I went to this week. There was one at Shina, another at... Sasha's. Wait, was it? Or Ymir's? Honestly, both their houses look fairly similar and we always see the same faces over and over again, regardless of where we are getting wasted. Definitely two at my house. The timeline is blurry at this point. If my liver could talk, it would spit out "Screw you, Eren." and I wouldn't be able to disagree.

Classes will start next week so everyone is acting like we're going to stop doing all this for the rest of the semester. That never happens.

I barely enter Reiner's house and the music is already piercing my head. My ears will soon tell me to go screw myself too. The bass was loud. But it was good.

— Hey, finally — Reiner says, giving a hard slap in my back. I can't even get mad at him because he probably didn't mean for it to hurt. Fucking strong bastard.

— Sorry. Lost track of time.

— You know where the things are — he leaves me behind and disappears through the noisy music.

It's hot inside. August has been particularly cruel this year. I'm using a black t-shirt, which is luckily pretty thin, and my black Adidas pants that are somewhat breathable. My hair is in a bun. I will probably be sweating soon, though. Reiner's AC won't do miracles with this amount of people since it is specially packed today. I guess I might see some new faces tonight, huh.

This fact already makes things more interesting.

I walk through the room and then arrive in the kitchen. Connie and Sasha are there.

— Eren!! — I barely open my mouth to talk and Sasha is already giving me whatever weird drink they made. Their drinks sometimes are... unusual, for the lack of a better word. Most of the time they are simply pure shit. They call it scout's fuel, always the same name regardless of what's inside. Maybe that's why my liver hates me so much.

— Thanks — I'm already used to the goddamn gasoline taste — I guess you both want to get us wasted tonight.

— It's our personal mission, so enjoy the fuel — Connie says laughing, raising his plastic cup. I love this duo – who doesn't? – and I can't help but laugh with them, even though it tastes so bad — Everyone is already here, come on — I follow them and find all the familiar faces I've seen all week: Bertholdt, Historia, Ymir, Mikasa, Annie, Armin, Jean, everyone.

The girls look hot, even though I'm used to them. Either way, I avoid hooking up with my friends since the last time didn't work so well. It's better to avoid Mikasa today.

We all sit together while drinking. I light a joint I had already prepared at home and say — Am I crazy or is Reiner's party bigger than usual? —, releasing the smoke a few seconds after. This one is the best grass we could get around our area, I've saved it primarily for today and now I see that might have been a great decision on my part. I'm glancing through the room and looking for some girls, might share this shit with one - or a few - of them later.

— Thank god, I was tired of seeing your ugly faces every fucking time — Jean says. The girls look at him and he rushes to add — I mean, the boys, of course. It's always nice looking at all of you, ladies.

It's not enough to avoid Annie's kick anyway — We can say the same of you, horse face.

Reiner arrives at the perfect time and explains — Since the new semester starts Monday, news about today traveled fast and we got a lot more company than usual.

— Do you know all of them, Reiner? — Historia asks — I've talked to a bunch of them tonight and there are people from all over the campus and from all years as well — Historia always looks pretty, her blonde hair shining even in the low light of the party. Guys make a line to talk to her at all parties so there's no surprise that she's already familiarized with the whole scenario. I wonder what Ymir thinks of it. Probably followed her during this little field trip.

— Hell, no — he grabs the joint of my hand and sucks deeply — I know some of them and some are Bertholdt's friends but there are some random people.

— I bet Reiner knows a lot of the girls — I take my joint back from his fingers — I assume they aren't Bertholdt's friends, though — and grin.

— Hey, I don't see you with any new company either, dude — Bertholdt tries to grab my weed as well, but I avoid his advances. He instead grabs my cup and drinks all of it, leaving me empty. He makes a funny face at the taste. Suit yourself, man, I think to myself, laughing on the inside.

— Yeah, but I'll work on it in a sec — I tease him knowing that he can't handle much of Sasha and Connie's fuel. He always knocks out before everyone. I hope he realizes he needs to stay awake to try anything with Annie. Someday. He simply never gets there.

Hange arrives almost falling over Ymir and spilling her drink on the floor in the process — I think we should all make a toast and make this last party a wild ride!!! — her yelling stabbing us louder than the music.

— Bitch, you are this fucking drunk already? — Ymir says to her, holding Hange's weight on her back — What the hell did the gasoline duo do to you?

— Okay okay, enough with the questions, let me fill your cups because this is the night! — Sasha says, just pouring all that mystery liquid that soon will go straight to our heads — Also, Reiner, where's the food?

We raise our plastic cups and Connie yells — To the new semester! — and we drink, feeling the immediate burn on our throats. It's hard being a scout.

— I need to get laid today — Jean says as he lays his back on the couch — Gonna arrive for the classes pretty motivated next week — he then rests his left arm at the back pillow, behind Mikasa's head.

— You should start roaming, then — her cold delivery puts Jean's subtle attempt at flirting six feet under the ground, as usual. It was pretty damn quick, but I could notice Mikasa glancing at me and then looking the other way. Yeah, I think I need to start roaming soon, too.

— That sounds great, then let's do that!!! — Hange grabs Jean by the arm and they disappear amongst the crowd.

— When all this fun ends, I'll be the one who will probably have to take him home after he gets slapped by some girls — Armin and Jean live with me so we normally go back together. Armin is the responsible one between us, which is not exactly hard considering how Jean and I are — Gonna at least drink some beer before that happens.

— I'll go with you, this drink sucks — Annie says, finishing the drink anyway and following him. We always drink the last drop of it, we never learn.

The girls went dancing, the music was exceptionally good today. A lot of bands I already liked plus some I have never heard before. I need to remember to ask Reiner for this playlist later. Connie was already surrounded by a different group, everyone likes to talk to him. He is popular. The rest dispersed as well and I could hear Hange's screams far away. This is going to be a night for her, indeed.

I start walking around, meeting a lot of people from my classes and others from the campus in general. I talk to all of them and drink a lot in the process, which feeds my need for nicotine every time. I grab my pack of cigarettes and while smoking, I see Levi.

— I must be dreaming — I say, letting the smoke leave my lips with a smile. It reaches him and looks at me with a deadly expression. He is smoking as well, but he only admits one specific brand of cigarettes and hates all the others. Levi usually doesn't show up at these "brat" parties, as he likes to say, since he's a few years older than us. I normally see him at Shina's, which is a popular club slash bar near our university. He's the owner so we all met him there, after going so many times. Shina has the best parties and the best drinks of all the clubs near us. And it couldn't be any other way, since Levi is a perfectionist. There's also a small stage there, where indie bands perform from time to time. My band does some gigs there sometimes.

— Hey — he replies, as cold as ever. He's Mikasa's cousin, so they have the same expressions and hard-to-approach vibe — Already high, I see.

— Always. In fact, today I hope to be higher than usual. What miracle brings you here?

— Some people from the staff decided to come here today so there are fewer brats to piss me off — he drinks what's probably a high priced whiskey and continues — and there's a new girl at the club so we have been showing her the area for a few weeks now.

— There's a lot of new girls here today — although I know Levi doesn't give a crap.

— So? — yeah, he doesn't.

Levi is a pretty successful business owner and even I have to admit that he's hot – is not only common knowledge but a mutual agreement between everyone –, so girls are always trying to get him, but he doesn't screw most of them. He doesn't fuck brats, period. He says he doesn't have the patience. That makes the girls even more desperate. He has the highest standards of every guy I know. When he was still in university – the same we all go –, he screwed not only the hottest girls but also the professors - which went after him and not the other way around. At least that's what I've heard. I think Levi never had to actively look for any girl, to be honest.

I can only laugh at his reply. That's just so him.

— If you want more stuff than what's already in your system, Floch is over there.

— I want, actually. I was going to look for him — I see Floch's red hair among some folks. Floch is usually as busy as Connie but with less than half of the charisma.

He finishes his cigarette, blowing its last white smoke into the air, and we both hear a loud HELL YEAH!! coming from all the other way across the room — Tsk, is that Hange?

— Pfft, it was before, I think it's Sasha now — he doesn't laugh at my reply. He never does. I think hell would freeze while heaven catches on fire.

I think about the music again. It's so good today, what the hell — Hey Levi, don't you think this playlist is too high quality for a Reiner party? I don't get it, his music taste is always pure trash.

— That's from our new girl — he drinks the last drops of his whiskey and starts to leave — You might find her around here — he then suddenly stops and looks at me — Don't get your hopes up, though.

I am not able to ask what he meant by that because he leaves too quickly. Time to look for Floch.

— Hey, Flo-

— Here.

— You didn't even let me finish.

— I know what you want. You are not in the mood for cocaine so you want MD instead, blah-blah-blah-blah. Is that kind of night — he pauses for mere seconds — Am I wrong, Eren?

— Nope, right as usual — Floch is the main person you go to when you need drugs. I mean, good drugs. He looks like your standard rich boy – which he is, by the way – that can do no wrong, but you can get the best stuff from him. I've always found this funny. The weed I have today was his work. He knows my taste well.

Reiner's frat house is huge, so there's plenty of room to walk. I'm approached by a bunch of girls on the way but for some reason, none of them piques my interest. I am pretty set on going after something new today and I have no problem getting laid. It happened every single day this week and it truly happens anytime I want. Which, okay, boosts my ego a little bit. Maybe a lot. I might even have hurt some girls in the process. I was never slapped though, unlike Jean. So that's a win in my book.

I see a few of my friends again, mainly Historia and Reiner, and they are talking to a girl I've never seen before.

She has long black hair and short messy bangs, the kind that goes a little above the eyebrows. I didn't know black hair was my thing until now. Her face has the perfect features, at least for me. She's wearing a sleeveless white top that is so tight that hugs her figure perfectly and makes her breasts look amazing. That type of top that shows the girl's side boob, and I'm a total sucker for those. It is also short so you can see a bit of her waist. And I don't even have to see her ass because I already know it is probably too damn good. Her light blue ripped jeans are cool as well and she has black sneakers. I like her style. She has a bunch of tattoos - a lot on her right arm, one on her left hand, and probably some that I couldn't see because they were behind her clothes. I intended to, though.

Fuck, she's hot.

Historia looks mesmerized talking to her, which is a very privileged view from where I stand because, as I've already said before, she is also beautiful. But she isn't exactly hot. This girl is. Way too much. Oh, and Reiner is there too. Whatever.

I can see a lot of guys want to approach her but none of them do. I went for it. Wasn't this night supposed to be wild?

— Hey, Eren! Guess what, Y/N is the new DJ at Shina! I was telling her how we go there all the time.

— Hi, Eren, nice to meet you — she says, with that kind of smile that people who know they are hot make. I do that too.

— Hey, Y/N — I say. And as I told you seconds before, I'm good with that type of smile as well so that's what she gets — Levi told me he came with the staff and a new girl, so I suppose that's you.

— Yeah, I'll start there next week.

— I talked to him about the party's playlist because I knew it couldn't be Reiner's.

— Yeah, it's Y/N's. She prepared it for the party when I invited the guys from Shina yesterday. We were in the same high school. — Reiner says that looking at me with a face that shows "See that, dickhead? I've known her for some years now".

— It's pretty good! I can't wait for the next party at Shina's to see your set! — Historia was always an angel.

REINER, WHERE'S THE REST OF THE ICE, MAN??, someone screamed far away.

— Shit. Catch up with you later, Y/N.

Too bad, huh, Reiner? He gives me a look that I can't quite figure out what it is, but I know for sure it wasn't a look of support. In the fucking slightest.

— I think Ymir is calling me as well, sorry!! — It was painfully obvious that Ymir wanted to make out with Historia for some time now. They never did. I think only Historia hasn't realized yet that Ymir is thirsty for her for god knows how long.

After Historia left, there was only me and her — So, by any chance, do you go to the same university as us? You look our age but Levi said you are new here — I tried asking this without looking at her body, but looking at her face was even worse. Her eyes were piercing me in the best way possible.

— I'm not exactly new, I'm from the same uni as you guys, but I took a gap year — she takes a sip of her drink — You probably never met me but I'm in the same year as you all are now.

Since Reiner knew her from high school, he also knew she was at the same university all along and never told any of the guys. Smart fucker.

— So that makes you a year older than me — I smirk at her.

— I guess it does — she smirks back as she lights up a cigarette and blows the smoke at me.

Ok, looking good so far.

I'm pretty high at this point, the MD and the music are making me horny, so I don't even bother to pretend that I'm not looking at her body. I'm looking at everything.

— You took something, didn't you?

— Do you want some? I can show you later where to get the best stuff. Anything you are in the mood for.

— I'm all set — she shows me her tongue and I see the acid. The view makes my own tongue feel lonely, maybe I should use it to steal that from her mouth. I hope she's horny as well.

We talk a lot about music since it's something that we both enjoy. She's passionate about it, I can tell. She asks about my band with true interest. Doesn't sound like small talk. She touches her hair and it makes me want to stuff my face in it. She has the smile that makes you want more. Her voice has the same effect.

The loud music allows us to talk near each other's ears. I hope she moans as loud as her playlist. The girls usually love my hair for some reason, either if it's in a messy bun as it is right now or if it's loose. They all love my green eyes too. She can see all that with somewhat detail since we are so close, even though it is a little dark here. If I take you to a room you can see me better, I almost blurb it out. I can see her too and that kills me.

She looks receptive to me but normally at this point I would be already hooking up with the girl. This time it isn't happening. I never have to work so much. I think I understand why the other guys didn't approach her before. She's a little intimidating to talk to, and that comes naturally to her – it doesn't seem to be on purpose. I flirt with her the way I normally do but she is hard to get, she hits every ball I throw. I remember what Levi said before. Oh, right.

But I'm vibing way too much at this point, I think if I touch any part of her I'll get hard immediately.

— This gap year you've mentioned... Did you go anywhere specific?

— I know it will sound cliché, but I went to Europe.

— Where in Europe?

— Everywhere — she says — I went down — the corner of her lips forming a smile — And up. Everywhere. — and I can swear she sounds flirtatious as hell. I want to bite her lip.

— That sounds... Awesome. — I think she wants to bite me too, or at least I hope she does — Was there any particular reason to leave? If that's not too much to ask.

— Hm, I was kinda... — she stops to think for a few seconds as she holds her hair up and makes a ponytail, looking at the ground, the cigarette glued to her now closed lips. Her neck became exposed, it looks soft as hell and I can't wait to bruise it. She releases the smoke, that flows into the room, and looks deep into my eyes, as deep as I want to be inside her right now — ...stressed.

I reach my limit at this point.

— I can help you with the stress if you want.

— Really? — she's looking at me with the same teasing look and I'm doing the same, so we both know that's not a question I have to answer. Her tongue quickly passes through her top lip, her mouth forming a little wet smile — I don't think I need any help though.

I threw the ball and she hit a home run. My team was out.

I was not expecting that.

We hear some of the guys from Shina calling for her — Oh, they are calling me — Y/N looks at me again and says — See you around, Eren — giving me the same fucking grin I wanted to bite before.

She walks away and I see that her ass is, as I suspected from the very beginning, too damn good.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

After this, some time has passed. I look at the clock. Yeah, maybe a lot. I couldn't tell before because I'm drunk and drugged. I see most of my friends, all fucking wasted. Armin is holding up pretty well, Bertholdt's is knocked down for God knows how long, Mikasa probably smoked way too much weed (who am I to judge?) and looks dead on the couch. I don't see Ymir, Historia nor Reiner - there are too many people in this house to keep count. Sasha's eating something in the kitchen, I can't see what it is, but certainly, she got hungrier than normal after smoking some pot Connie gave her. Connie always holds his drinks well, he's still talking to a lot of people. I pass in front of one of the bathrooms and Hange is there, getting everything out of her system. Oh, and Ymir. There she is, holding Hange's hair, looking as pissed as ever. Levi probably went home hours ago. Jean is making out with some chick, he's going to score tonight. To be fair, he always does, but never with Mikasa.

I saw a lot of pretty girls today and I went for none of them. They tried and I shut them down, even the ones I normally fuck. There's someone I want to taste tonight and she's nowhere to be found. The guys from Shina are missing too, so I know I won't see her today anymore. Damn.

I'm not pissed at her but I'm pissed at the situation.

— Armin, I think I'm going to take off, are you coming?

— Yeah, I'm already pretty tired — he gets up — Jean's probably going to stay here.

— Yep. Probably. — Am I pissed that Jean's getting laid? Even though I could have as well? With someone else, at least? My mood feels off.

— I'm going with you too, I've lost count of how many assholes I had to shut down today. I think I even punched a few — I don't have to look to know that's Annie speaking — You were right, Eren, is it especially crowded today. In the shittiest way possible.

— Then let's go.

— Wait, I need to get my bag first, I left it in Reiner's room.

— I can get that for you, wait up.

— It's a black one. Small.

I sign a thumbs up for her and climb the stairs. I am hundred percent sure I'm going to see someone fucking there but that's the usual. I'm pretty sure I've already seen some people screwing in the corner of the living room minutes before. No one cares.

I open the door and see Y/N in her underwear, putting her white top back on. She does indeed have other tattoos.

— Hey there! — she says smiling, as she also puts her jeans back up, making little jumps so they pass through her ass. Her hair is not in a ponytail anymore.

I say hi in a confusing way.

— I came here to get my friend's bag — I look around for milliseconds like I don't know where the hell I am until I see Reiner lying - clearly naked - under his sheets. Can't be anyone else, with that bleached hair and huge biceps.

What? Ahn?

Hey... Wait a second.

Historia? Clearly naked as well? What. The. Hell. I guess she's not exactly the angel I thought she was?

They are sort of awake, sort of sleeping, kinda like on a different planet. You know, the type of thing that happens after a really strong fuck? That sort. They look exhausted. They look destroyed. And not in a bad way. AT ALL.

— Oh, I saw a bag before. Here you go — she gives me Annie's bag. She's all dressed now. She notices my confusion, I'm too high to act any other way — I've told you I don't need any help — her eyes piercing mine for the hundredth time tonight. Her smile hurts now. Ouch.

She grabs her sneakers and walks towards me and the door:

— I'm all set.

She leaves the room as I hold Annie's bag.

Yeah. I was not expecting that.

***

Thanks for reading (if there's even anyone here lmao). Chapter 2 will be uploaded later but it can be read now at AO3 or Wattpad.

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kangaroo-sniper-imagine · 3 years

Text

Scout, Demo, and Sniper with inexperienced reader

- i combined these two cuz they both had the Aussie on them. NS/FW stufff ahead so caution -

Scout

Jeremy may act like he’s God’s gift to women, but let’s be honest, aside from some trysts and a girlfriend he had for three weeks in the tenth grade, homeboy ain’t got no experience either

He wants so badly to be a good boyfriend! He tries so hard to be nice and to be a gentleman to you, often times putting on such a fake persona that you have to remind him that you like Jeremy because he’s a loud, fast-talking jack ass from south Boston. Not those words exactly, but you get the idea

Tries the classic dates like fancy restaurants and romantic movies, but chances are if you liked Jeremy enough to date him, you probably hate that stuff too. Good dates are outing to parks, watching action movies, going to bars, etc. fun, not stuffy dates.

NS/FW

Jeremy has SOME idea of what he’s doing, but its more so getting himself off than trying to get his partner off. It takes some re-learning on his part to figure out that sex is supposed to be mutually fun. If he suck at it, tell him! Boy needs to learn!

He gets that you have almost no experience, and that just adds to the pressure for him; he’s already so insecure and this is just another are he has the potential to disappoint you in. First time together is gonna be real awkward and slow, as neither of you wanna fuck up

After the two of you get more experienced with each other, oooooooooh boy, Jeremy is insatiable. Partially because he’s never had a steady s/o who lived in the same building as him. He is always dtf; like, come in while he’s regaining one of his (dramatized) wins, give him a “look” and he’ll stop talking mid-sentence and follows you to wherever for a quickie

Jeremy’s favorite position is probably doggy style. He gets to give all his love and also gets to hide his face of he starts to feel embarrassed; its easier to have the macho sex god persona if his partner can’t see his face all flushed and pinched in concentration

Demo

Tavish has had plenty of date mates, but when he starts his relationship with you and learns that he is your first ever boyfriend? Fuck, it might as well be his first relationship too (the Scotsman is soft lbr). He knows that each relationship is different from another, even minusculy, but since you have no reference point, he’s gonna start from square one and work your way up to normal relationship things

By that I mean this man has, like, an itinerary. Week one: holding hands, Week two: eating meals together, etc. Tav is THOROUGH! He wants you doing lame couple things and wants you to be comfortable with them asap. He’s like one of those high school girls who are like “we need to be dating for six months before we can kiss.” It’s not that he isn’t ready, he just wants to make sure you are

Dates with him are weird and varied. One night he takes you to a nice bar, the next date is helping him set off about to expire explosives. A very lovely evening of him playing piano with you, then it’s Loch Ness Monster hunting. Suffice to say that your dates are never boring.

NS/FW

Tavish sets the relationship at a slow pace so that you’ll feel comfortable; introducing sex into the relationship is no different. He’ll let you know when he’s comfortable with it and is fine waiting until you are ready for it and won’t do jack shit without your permission.

When you are ready, be prepared for the cheesiest seduction ever. You’ll walk into Tavish’s room one day and there’s a trail of rose petals leading to the bed where the Scotsman lays, naked, with a rose between his teeth and a heart shaped pillow covering his junk; candles EVERYWHERE. It takes every ounce of willpower not to laugh (plz laugh, Tavish is trying so hard to make you relax before doing the do)

Despite the fact that the man likes his drink, Tavish refuses to fuck drunk. Sleeping with you is an honor, and he 1. Doesn’t wanna not remember it, 2. Doesn’t want to do something dumb while he’s drunk and hurt you, 3. Doesn’t wanna do something embarrassing in front of the gang while trying to seduce you. He’s a good boy who knows better

Sniper

Mick has had plenty of short term date mates, considering his job keeps him moving around. Before Teufort, he never bothered trying to keep a serious relationship because he would be gone by the end of the month. Then our favorite Aussie meets YOU and the whole game plan changed. He couldn’t be a “love ‘em and leave ‘em” man anymore, and he didn’t want to be with you. You’re special

Mick’s not 100% sure exactly what dating him would entail. You two go out to the local bar to drink, you spend your meals and down time together, you haven’t moved into the truck camper yet but you sure do spend a ton of nights there. Mick doesn’t have domestic experience so he tries to do what his parents do and what they told him to do, so it’s a lot of laundry together, movie nights at the local drive-in, reading the same book and talking about it, etc. Mick skipped right into the “old married life” kind of relationship

The Aussie is happy to take things slow with you, considering THIS kind of relationship is new to him too. You’re a special person the Mick wants to keep in his life

NS/FW

BAAAAAAAAAAAAAABES, I KNOW everyone’s like “oh, Sniper is an awkward loner with social issues” but listen darlings; Mick is a businessman, he used to have to talk to tins of people to get jobs; had to have connections, had to be charismatic, he to be willing to hang out in seedy bars and joints to eat gigs. What I’m saying is, aside from Spy, Sniper is probably the one who can manipulate the room to his advantage best, cuz he’s been doing it since he started. The point of this rant is to say SNIPER CAN GET IT! Homeboy’s got tail game! You cannot change my mind! He’s probably had more quickies than a rabbit hutch; he’s attractive as hell and knows how to talk to people to get what he wants and how to clock people at the bar who wants to get laid too! He came, he saw, he didn’t call he next morning. Okay end of rant and back to the original purpose of this point

So! Mick has plenty of sexual experience, and rather than see you as some sort of delicate flower, he sees it more as an opportunity to let you experiment ON him. Whatever you wanna try, he’s done it like 9 times. You wanna do some nasty shit? Okie dokie than, he’ll get the “Camper’s a-rocking, don’t come a-knocking” sign up and clear his schedule. Aussie knows what he’s doing

Plz bring up riding to this man, he’ll fucking propose to you. He thinks riding is the best position because he has all the access to your fun areas, he’s able to bury his face into your chest or neck, and its minimal movement for him

#tf scout x reader #tf2 demoman x reader #tf2 sniper x reader #team fortress 2 x reader #tf2 x reader #tf2 scout #tf2 demoman #tf2 sniper #tea fortress 2 #tf2

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badbadbucky · 3 years

Text

WIP Wednesday 5/5/2021

Very happy to have a WIP Weds this week. It’s been a few weeks because I have really been struggling to make any sort of progress on my story that I could feel good about, but I am finally pointing in the right direction again and even though I am not writing as much as I have in the past, I am still making progress!

In this section, the Restless are formulating a plan to avenge their dead brother Chuy, who died trying to figure out who killed their beloved preident, Dev, and so three of them have gone up into the hills to scout out where the rival werewolf motorcycle club the Lupes go during the change on the full moon.

Eddie, Arno, and Greg laid their bikes down in a shallow ditch and put some branches over the top to hide them from view. Eddie had chosen a spot just beyond a sign that said the area was open range, so they’d be able to find the bikes again if they had to come out quick. They were deep in Lupe territory, they had to be very careful.

Eddie had decided it would be best for a small group to scout out the place where the Lupes would undergo the change, make sure Dev’s info was still good. So, the three of them had left their cuts behind at a bar right on the border between Restless and Lupe territory, along with the rest of the Restless, and rode up into the hills.

Moving silently, the three men picked their way through the woods. The terrain was rough, a lot of hills and valleys, thick with sagebrush, wiregrass, and juniper trees. If Dev’s information held true, then they were still a little over a mile out from the Lupe campsite.

Arno sneezed, then sneezed again, and again, then a fourth fifth and sixth time. Greg and Eddie both stared at Arno. Arno smiled at them abashedly. “Fucking junipers man,” his voice barely a croak.

As they walked, the smell was what hit Eddie first, faint at first but still unmistakeable, the smell of death, not the coppery richness of recent death, but the high sour rankness of rotting death. Eddie and Greg pulled out bandanas and tied them over their faces, Arno was apparently too stuffed with snot to smell anything.

Eddie jerked his head and Arno and Greg split off, searching for the source of the smell, this operation was delicate and they couldn’t leave anything to chance. As Eddie moved forward, he saw Greg and Arno slipping between the trees, pulling ahead of him.

The three of them came back together to stand over the rotting carcass of a cow. The cow had been ripped apart by a werewolf. The clearest sign was that the meat was intact, left to rot. If it had been an actual wolf, a coyote, or a cougar then most of the carcass would have been eaten. Werewolves sometimes ate raw, but once you shifted back to human you could get sick from it, another downside to an uncontrolled change. If an animal had been killed by a werewolf, all the other animals left it alone. They were in the right place, or at least close to it.

“Wow, mighty hunter, bringing down fuckin’ Ol’ Bess the cow,” Arno said.

Eddie and Greg snickered. The Restless took hunting very seriously. In the 90’s a charter having a banner year riding the last of the cocaine wave and were even able to fund a hunting trip to Africa. The heads still hung up in the clubhouse.

Their laughter was cut short by the sound of a rifle being cocked. Eddie’s head shot up and he saw two ranchers on horseback. One who looked to be around 70, though still very hale, a strong 70; the other looked like he was in his 40’s. Eddie grabbed his gun.

Eddie could blame not smelling the ranchers coming on the tremendous stink of the rotting carcass, but not hearing the rattle of the saddles and clop of the hooves couldn’t be blamed on anything except stupidity.

Before Eddie could get his gun up, the older man said, “that’ll be the last mistake you ever make, boy.”

Eddie kept his gun lowered, but he didn’t re-holster it, yet.

Arno and Greg drew their guns up and leveled them at both men.

The younger man gigged his horse forward a few steps, pointing the gun at Arno. “Hey!” he yelled.

“Put ‘em down,” the older man said. “Or I’ll put him down.” He gestured at Eddie with his gun. “And I know what it takes to make sure he stays down.”

Silver?

The older man must have seen the comprehension dawn in Eddie’s eyes, because he grinned at Eddie and said, “Goddamn werewolves. All the same. Got that werewolf mentality. Think you can take whatever you want from hardworking folks. Every month you pieces a’ shit come up here and kill my cattle, this time I got ya. Dead to rights, I got ya.”

“Put ‘em down,” Eddie said. He dropped his 9mm on the ground.

Greg lowered his gun, though he didn’t seem too happy about it, but he didn’t drop it.

Arno shook his head. “Uh-uh, no way.”

“Arno. Put it down,” Eddie said.

“I’d listen to the Ese,” the older man said. “It’s not so easy to find silver bullets these days, but you still can, if you’re properly motivated.”

“Put it down, man,” Eddie said. “It’s a misunderstanding. I’m gonna explain it to them. It’ll be fine.”

The younger man looked doubtful. Arno did too, but he lowered the gun. Then, Greg and Arno threw both of their guns on the ground.

“Good choice,” the older man said. “Now, tell me where the rest of your pack are.”

“We ain’t who you think we are,” Eddie said.

“That right?” the older man said.

Eddie nodded. “We aren’t members of the Lupine Devil Pack.”

“Well, ain’t that convenient, we find you wandering around on our land, but you ain’t the fuckers we’re looking for,” the younger one said.

“I think we’re looking for the same people,” Eddie said. “We had intel that they were up here. We came to find ‘em.” The younger man spat tobacco juice on the ground inches from Eddie’s boot. Arno looked prepared to rip the pinche guey’s head off over the slight, but Eddie shot him a look and continued talking. “They killed one of our brothers. We came to take care of those bitches while they were in heat.”

The younger man snorted in amusement.

“If you ain’t wolves, then what are ya?” the older man asked.

Eddie pressed his hand to his chest. “Chupacabra,” he said, really playing up his Mexican accent.

The younger man narrowed his eyes. “Ain’t ever seen no white chupacabras.”

“Just me,” Eddie said. “They’re Squatches from Portland.”

“Squatches don’t shift,” the younger man said.

“Oh, you know a lot ‘a sasquatches do ya?” Arno demanded, playing up the righteous indignation perfectly. He’d said he’d done a play once in junior high, said he fucking loved it. “Guess you know all about sasquatches. Everybody thinks they’re a goddamn sasquatch expert.”

“Alright, alright! I’m sorry,” the younger one said. “Just a little weird is all. What are two bigfoots and a beaner doing hanging out together?”

Eddie ignored the insult. He could already tell that if he was going to get his guys through this he was going to have to eat a lot of shit. “Lupes killed someone we care about,” he said. “Mutual friend. We’re here to kill the one that killed him.” Dev had taught him that the best lies were basically the truth.

“Don’t see why you think that information will improve your situation,” the older man said. “Don’t want chupacabras or sasquatches or unicorns on my goddamn property.”

“Enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Eddie said. “And we got the same enemy. We could help each other. I got numbers. You know these hills. We could--”

“Hold on. We ain’t amigos just yet,” the older man said. He very deliberately tilted his eyes down to his rifle, which was still pointed at Eddie’s head, as if Eddie could have forgotten.

“Yeah, I’ve had better starts,” Eddie said. He allowed his most charming smile to creep across his face. “But I’ve had worse too. I’m Eddie,” Eddie said, pointing toward himself. “This is Arno.”

Arno laughed abashedly. “Sorry about putin’ a gun in your face. And for calling you an old rat dick fuck.”

“You didn’t,” the older man said.

Goddamnit Arno.

“I mean sorry for thinking it. You’re not. An old rat dick fuck. I mean you’re old, but not a rat dick fuck,” Arno said. “Sorry.”

“Shut up,” Eddie hissed. He looked up to gauge the old man’s reaction, and--to his relief--found a sort of wry amusement, he doubted there would have been any amusement on the old punta’s face if it had been Eddie or Diego making that crack, nah he didn’t think so. Eddie pointed at Greg. “That’s Greg.”

Greg lifted his hand in a half-hearted wave.

The old man lowered his gun, though the younger man kept his trained on Arno. “I’m Joseph.” He reached over and pushed down the barrel of the younger man’s rifle. “This is my boy, Randy.”

Randy lowered the gun to his side.

“Nice to meet you,” Eddie said. “Now, how about we help each other out?”

#wip wednesday #writing #writblr #writeblr #horror #werewolves #one of the res #tw racism

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meepmoopfanfics · 4 years

Text

you don’t get a win unless you’re playing the game: Daveed Diggs x Reader. Chapter 2.

Reminder: this is gonna be a long fic! please be patient :)

You are finally ending an excruciating first week of dance rehearsals.

You’re gearing up finishing Act I finally, your brain feeling completely fried from all of the material given, especially the vocal parts. You were so used to singing the melody line of all the songs and being given the alto part was a challenge in itself, let alone applying singing while doing the choreography. The dancing was second nature but you didn’t realize how much stamina you’d actually need to getting the notes out without sounding breathy, pitchy or exhausted. You did NOT want to embarrass yourself in front of the OBC when it came time to integrate.

You had only worked with the ensemble closely so far and were getting close with Stephanie, the universal dance captain of the show. She had mentioned to you that the principals and ensemble members would be having a little hang out session at her brother’s penthouse apartment downtown after rehearsals ended tonight.

“Brilliant work today everyone. I know it’s been tough. But take the weekend to really review the material and let everything sink in.” Stephanie’s eyes were lit up. The way she was so attentive to detail and every backstory of every movement was so inspiring and eye opening.

You wiped the sweat off of your face as you partner, aka M3, aka George Eaker, aka Cedric, gave you a wink and a thumbs up. You were way too lucky to be matched with Cedric. If you jumped across the stage, somehow you’d trust him to catch you with seconds to spare before landing.

The ensemble cheered together and began to pan out to the house to grab their things and head up to their dressing rooms to get ready for the party.

“Is everyone coming tonight?” Stephanie yelled excitedly.

You heard a cannon of yeses and hell yeahs around the group.

“The wolfpack’s coming too!” That was her nickname for the OBC crew. “It’s gonna be a raaaaaager!” She started gyrating her hips. Everyone erupted with laughter.

“A safe one at that, of course. Be on your best behavior around Lin… just kidding he’s an absolute child.

Alright now go, get out. Go get hot.”

You followed the ensemble up the stairs backstage to end up at your dressing room which you shared with W4, Michelle.

“Girl... what’re ya wearing tonight? I can’t decide.” Michelle asked while anxiously rummaging through her back full of scribbled on legal pads, muscle rollers, and random items of clothing.

You had packed your favorite black jeans that made your legs look flawless, your signature suede boots, and a Kith hoodie. You wanted to look put together but also casual and cool. Most importantly, you wanted to impress all of your idols. This was your only chance to give them the best first impression of you.

You thought about grabbing your Oakland sweatshirt that your parents got you as a gag gift for Christmas, in honor of your celebrity crush’s hometown. You immediately regretted even thinking of wearing it, as Daveed would definitely find it way too weird. You were from Massachusetts... not California. The Bay Area would be embarrassed for you.

“I just brought these little guys. All black, of course. Feel like it does the job. Also, the sweatshirt will let me eat alllllll of the pizza guilt free.”

Michelle stared longingly at your suede boots. “These are fuckin fancy!”

“They’re only Steve Madden!!” You were proud of your ability to find luxury looking goods for a cheap price. You don’t think that will ever change, even when you saw your first broadway check hit your checking account.

You were happy you could share a safe and fun dressing room space with Michelle and knew the two of you would become close friends.

You both ran into the shower room across the hallway, and quickly washed off. You decided you were going to straighten your long light brown hair. You loved your hair, but it got so curly and tangled when you sweat. Thankfully they were going to put you in a wig for the show instead of using your natural locks. Being a head sweat-er was the worst. Your makeup was minimal, as you looked best with a nice dewy makeup glow, with highlighted cheekbones. You wore a nude matte lipstick, which matched the natural color of your lips, and lightly liquid lined a cat eye over your big (insert eye color) eyes.

You saw your reflection. You didn’t know if it was the confidence of finally reaching your goal or if you just were having a good hair/makeup day... but you were stunning.

“Damn mama!” Michelle gasped as she saw your finished look. “Whose mans are you about to steal at this gig? Better not be Cedric, he’s mine.”

You laughed. You couldn’t help to think about who you already had your heart set on.

“Definitely not Cedric.”

Michelle opened her iPhone 11 plus and immediately opted for a mirror selfie. She quickly opened Instagram and posted it to her story.

You opened the app yourself to go check if it looked good.

Posted 32 secs ago

#MamaHam and #TheBullet hit the town 🎉

“Ready?” Michelle asked, putting the final touches of her gold Fenty highlight on her cheeks. “We should grab a quick bite before hitting the place. I plan on drinking my weight in Truly seltzers tonight.”

“Let’s get it.” You smiled. “I’ll call the uber.”

——

You called the uber, hopped in, and began driving downtown. You felt your anxiety creeping up on you.

“Trulys? Really? I’m gonna need to be doing shots of Jager in order to be able to speak a single word to any of these principals.”

“What are you... nervous? You already got the role. You’re equals with these guys.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“Guess I’ll just have to act as chill as possible. That’s the plan anyways... also Michelle, wanna know something ridiculous?”

“What?”

“I’ve had a middle school full fledged crush on Daveed since I can remember.”

She blurted out with laughter.

“Well girl he is on the market now. Shoot ya shot.”

You already knew this. Daveed was recently single and focusing on rebuilding himself up. His breakup with his last girlfriend wasn’t bad. It was mature and mutual. You knew he was taking time to himself, so you didn’t want to be overbearingly flirtatious when you first met him.

You also couldn’t stop thinking about your ex, whom you left last year around this time. His goals just weren’t lining up with your future. He hated musicals, he hated almost everything you liked... but you couldn’t stand the fact you shattered his heart.

“I’ll see what happens... after 5 shots.” You responded, winking at Michelle.

You arrived at the cutest little Italian place downtown in TriBeCa. You knew carbs and wine were the perfect pregame for this shindig.

After loads of pasta and splitting a bottle of wine, you began to feel the confidence needed to shake the nerves from you. You hit the bathroom to give yourself a double check before walking to your final destination.

—

As you walked up to the massive high rise residence, you couldn’t believe this was your lifestyle now. As you approached, you noticed an extremely familiar face exit the revolving door.

Holy shit, that’s Rafa.

Rafael Casal. Daveed Diggs’ best friend.

You stopped in your tracks stunned.

He turned his head immediately in your and Michelle’s direction.

“Y/N?! What’s going on?!”

“Shut up shut up shut up...” you whispered through your teeth. “Just keep walking.”

As he passed you both, he smiled, and turned into the Duane Reade on the corner. Probably picking up something he forgot.

You realized you would be on edge all night not being able to keep your cool. Rafa wasn’t even in the damn OBC and here you were, freaking out entirely on the freaking sidewalk.

Through the doors you went, passing the crystal clear marble floors, giant chandeliers, and up to the doorman.

“Can I help you beautiful ladies?”

Michelle blushed. The doorman was actually attractive.

“We’re here for Klemons? Penthouse 2?”

“Oh yeah! Hamilton!!! Love that show. Have fun!”

You hit the elevator as you looked down at your phone.

9:18pm

Perfect timing. Almost 20 mins late. Fashionably late, of course.

“Oh shit shit shit.”

You realized you haven’t changed your wallpaper from Daveed grabbing his crotch.

Michelle laughed as you fumbled to change your wallpaper to a pic of you and your family from when you were younger. Perfect. A conversation starter. Your overthinking was killing you softly.

Your teeth were legit chattering. You felt anxiety waves rush through your nervous system. The pit in your stomach grew. Your heart was beating a mile a minute. This was it. Your chance at something greater than you ever thought was possible to achieve.

The elevator doors opened to the open concept apartment. Voices were clashing over the blaring hip hop music in the dimly lit room. A full bar in the corner, Joe’s pizza scattered over the island in the kitchen. Beer pong set up on the dining room table.

There they were. Every single one of em. Scattered across the flat. Starstruck wasn’t even the beginning of what you felt.

Your eyes scanned quickly around.

There he was. Curly headed locks and all. Leaning up against the floor to ceiling windows that circled the place, holding a cocktail in his strong, large right hand accessorized with a few rings. Simply staring at the sights of the city. He looked like a million bucks and he was in a simple casual outfit. Light washed jeans, black boots, with his left hand in his black hoodie pocket.

Wait. You guys were wearing the same hoodie.

The same fucking hoodie.

Of course this would happen.

tag list:

@alexander-hamilhoe

#daveed diggs x reader #daveed diggs #daveed x reader #fanfic #Alexander-hamilhoe

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sunflowersunshinevol6 · 4 years

Text

Harry Styles x OC

Warnings: drinking

Summary: Mixtapes. We all love them. We have a different one for a different mood. A different moment in time. For Harry and Summer, they become the soundtrack of one beautiful summer in California and the definition of their relationship. Because the people you love never really leave, they're only a mixtape away.

Part One

Let me start at the beginning. I never would have met him if it wasn't for my roommate Halley.

We lived in Monte Nido, about three miles from Malibu. I had just graduated from Berkley and was looking to become a freelance photographer. Halley did the temp thing, it paid the bills and we could still have fun.

I woke up to 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' blasting from the boombox in the living room. Halley had just broken up with her boyfriend and I knew she was hurting, but I despised the song. It was overplayed in my opinion.

"Hey," she whined when I walked out of my room and over to the boombox, shutting the music off. She was in the kitchen, baggy misfits shirt hanging off her slim frame, black hair tousled and looking like she hadn't brushed it in weeks. I rolled my eyes, walking over to her and catching the plate she slid across to me. A bagel with cream cheese and a cup of coffee. The perfect morning.

"I'm tired of you moping babe. We gotta get you out of the house." She grumbled, playing with the ends of her hair.

"Maybe I should call him," she started towards the phone hung on the wall. I ran, beating her to it and slamming my hand over it. "Summer!" She said slightly annoyed.

"No. Not doing that." I grabbed her hands, tugging her back towards the kitchen. "Know what we need?"

"What?"

"A night out." I said, bumping foreheads with her. "When's the last time we went to a show together?" She shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. "Exactly. There's a new band supposed to be playing downtown at The Dome tonight. We should check it out." Halley chewed on her bottom lip for a second before nodding, giving in.

"I could use a girls night." I grinned, high fiving her.

I've always communicated best through music. There's something about a song that can just get what I'm feeling across in a way that words can't. My mom used to say I was born with music in my soul. We used to dance around the kitchen, Fleetwood Mac's Rumors on vinyl, blasting as we croaned, singing of heartbreak and hope. It was deep. It always has been.

Halley went to work, another gig at a vet's office and I grabbed my roller blades and headed outside, Walkman in my pocket, Dinosaur Jr's 'You're living all over me' blasting in my ears. I took off towards town, heading to the record store.

Big and Easy Cassettes and Vinyls had been around since the late seventies. It was my place, and my mom's. Even when she got sick I would drive her over and we would pick an album, just one new one to listen to on the way home. We'd come across a song that was too good plenty of times and would go around the block to finish it. The place was my home away from home.

The Psychadelic Furs 'Pretty in Pink' played over the speakers when I walked in. A couple people lounged around.

"Hey! Summer! What's happenin'?" Willy, the owner, waved at me from behind the register. He'd been a hippie back in the day, even lived at the Haight. He wore small circle rimmed glasses that were tinted and his afro was always a mess. He grinned at me as I made my way over to him.

"Hey man! Got anything new?" He nodded, pulling a box out from under the counter, the label on ot reading 'New Shit'. I opened it eagerly, looking through the tapes.

"How's Halley doing?" He asked.

"She could be better. We're going to a show tonight at The Dome." Willy nodded.

"Yeah? My buddy Mitch plays in the band. His girlfriend Sarah is drums."

"Really?"

"Yup. Could make a call. Get you guys backstage." I couldn't contain my grin.

"Thanks man." I grabbed a couple tapes, holding them out for him to charge me. He shook his head.

"On the house. This time."

"Thanks Willy."

"No problem. Tell Halley I said to have a good time. I'll call my buddy, let him know you're coming through."

Halley and I have always had a preshow ritual, but since she was working when I got home I started without her.

I put on my new cassette, The Cure 'Disentigration' and hummed along as I started making drinks. I was halfway through my third margarita when she came in the door.

"Hey!" She shouted. I laughed when she began dancing towards me and I handed her her drink.

"Willy knows someone in the band. He's gonna get us backstage."

"Are you kidding? That's fucking great!" Halley screeched jumping up and down. We danced around the living room drinking and singing the wrong lyrics. It's always good to hype up before you go out. Remember that.

We started getting ready around eight thirty, both of us slightly buzzed. I grabbed my favorite t shirt. An oversized Clockwork Orange shirt that was black and had the logo on the front in orange, a red plaid long sleeve and torn up Jean's with my mom's old converse. I'm not one for makeup much but I put brown eyeshadow on to make eyes look a bit sunk in, mascara and dark red lipstick. I let my black hair fall down over my shoulders and put on my favorite sunnies.

Halley was a bit more punk than I was. She wore a black mini skirt, ripped see through black mesh shirt with a black tank top over it. Her favorite dog collar around her neck and heavy eyeliner and lipstick, her favorite Doc Martens laced up her ankles, ripped stocking covering her legs.

"You look hot." I acknowledged, winking at her teasingly.

"Tell me something I don't know." She laughed.

"Show starts at ten. You wanna walk?"

"I'm up for that."

The Dome was the local bar. It was only about a mile away and we hoped the walk would sober us up as we went. We talked and laughed, excited at the prospect of hearing new music. Music had been the thing that brought us together in the first place. Our mutual love for Depeche Mode and Peter Murphy. It always seemed to me that music was the only thing that brought people into my life and kept them there.

We got there early enough to see people coming into the bar. We weren't sure if they were there for the band or for drinks. We didn't really care. We were young and looking for fun.

"I hope they're hot." Halley said as we took our seats at the bar. I laughed, rolling my eyes at her.

"The one named Mitch is taken. He's dating the drummer so you better hope you don't fall for him." She snickered at me.

"Hi ladies, what can I get you?"

"Two Jack in Coke on ice?" She looked at me and I nodded my approval. The bartender nodded, heading back to make our drinks. That's when I saw Willy's unmistakable afro making his way through the crowd and towards us.

"Hey ladies! Lovely to see ya." He kissed Halley on the cheek and then me before leaning against the bar beside us.

"Heard you can get us backstage tonight." Halley said, wiggling her eyebrows. Willy nodded.

"Sure can. Already told Mitch I was coming. Just gonna bring you girls back with me." I opened my mouth to say something else but the feedback from the stage caught my attention just as the bartender came up with my drink. I took a sip, watching as the lights dimmed and everyone's attention turned to the stage.

The band filed out. Three girls and three boys heading towards the stage. The guitarist had shaggy black hair and a full beard, dressed in bell bottoms and a baggy white tee. But it was the singer who caught my eye.

He wore beige slacks and a black button down tucked in, the first few buttons unbuttoned, a couple of tattoos poking out on his chest. His brown hair curled slightly but was slicked back and the rings on his hands glinted as he grabbed the mic stand. He was outrageously handsome.

"Oh my." Halley whispered. Oh my was right.

"Ello." My heart dropped into my stomach when he spoke, a thick english accent greeting my ears. "My mama's Harry. This is Mitch, Sarah, Ny Oh, Adam and Charlotte. We don't have a band name yet, maybe one day. But we hope you enjoy." Everyone laughed at his comment. "This song is called 'Ever Since New York.'"

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply as the song began. It was beautiful. My mom would have liked it.

"Tell me somethin'" his voice was sweet, carried along the melody that the band played. I opened my eyes, watching as he swayed to the beat of the music. Everyone was quiet, enraptured by this young man's voice.

"Wow." I heard Halley say behind me, I couldn't have agreed more. It wasn't dancey, not in the way that you could get up and shake your ass. No, it was the kind of song you listened to at home in the evening, with your lover perched on the counter while you stand between their legs, dinner cooking on the stove. It was comforting. It was....home.

When the song came to a close I was breathless, a weight placed on my chest, I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

A few songs in and he began a heavier song, one that we could dance to. He called it 'Kiwi'. Halley and I got up, dancing with Willy and laughing as he screamed into the microphone. I felt free, laughing with my friends and feeling like we were the only ones in the world.

I looked up at the stage after I flipped my hair to see him, Harry, eyes locked in on me. I held his gaze for a moment, blushing when he smiled at me before breaking eye contact. I smiled, turning back to my friends and feeling the music once more.

"Thank you all for a lovely evening." He said when the show was over. Willy gently took me and Halley by the arm.

"We can head back now guys."

The backstage area was small. Not a whole lot of room, but enough for the small indie bands that usually played. Halley and I stood to the side as Willy walked up to Mitch, shaking hands with him.

"These are my friends. This is Summer and Halley." We smiled, shaking Mitch's hand. He introduced us to the rest of the band but the singer, Harry, wasn't there.

"He's in the loo." Sarah said, a kind smile on her face. Halley started a conversation with Adam while I spoke with Sarah and Mitch. They were so sweet and kind.

"Hey, who's your friends?" I felt my stomach churn. Harry walked back in the room, a bottle of water in his hand as he eyed me and Halley.

"Friends of Willy. You've met him before." Harry shook Willy's hand before turning to me.

"I'm Harry." He held out his hand.

"Summer." I said. He smiled.

"I like that. 'S pretty." He held my hand for a moment too long, eyes locked on mine once more. Halley interrupted us.

"Hey, you guys got a place to stay?" Mitch shook his head.

"Nah. We were gonna crash in the car." I looked at Halley with wide eyes. I knew where she was going with this, she seemed so cozy with Adam already.

"No. No. You guys can stay with us. Crash on the couch or the floor. We're cool with it. Right Summer." I blinked, inside I was furious. I hated being put on the spot like that.

"Yeah." I said dryly. "Sure."

"Cool. We'll pack everything up then." Halley grinned.

"It's kinda small but there's room for everybody." Halley said as she opened the door to our apartment. I cringed inwardly. We hadn't even cleaned up, but the band didn't seem to mind. Everyone sat down in the living room while Halley and I went to grab extra blankets.

"You know I hate when you spring shit like this on me." I glared as she handed me a blanket and pillow.

"Oh shut up. Adam's cute and hey, I saw you and Harry having a moment."

"We were not...he was just greeting me." I said flustered. She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, they're our guests. Be hospitable."

We all sat around for a while, drinking and talking. Slowly everyone began to fall asleep, Harry and I being the only ones left awake.

We talked for what felt like hours. He told me about his parents, their divorce and his mom and step dad. His sister. How he knew he wanted to be a musician from a young age and when he met Mitch it felt like a sign from the universe. I listened intently, enthralled with the man before me.

"Tell me more about England. I've always wanted to go there." I was on my belly, propped up on my elbows while he sat on the couch. We'd been engrossed in our own conversation for so long that we hadn't realized everyone else fell asleep.

"Where I'm from is quite picturesque. It's a beautiful little town. Maybe one day, if you ever go to England you can come by."

"Maybe." I laughed. "If my photography ever takes me there."

"You have to have faith in yourself love. You'll do it." I was glad he couldn't see me blush in the dark. "I'm glad you came to the show." He said after a moment of silence between us.

"Me too." He shifted, laying back on the couch.

"This is probably weird. But I was wondering....would you like a cuddle? I hate sleeping alone." I was taken aback. But he seemed serious, green eyes looking at me curiously. I couldn't say no. How could I?

"Sure." I said, climbing up on the couch. I laid my head on his chest, slotting my body against his, he wrapped his arms around me, lifting his leg slightly to keep me up on the couch. I felt him nuzzle my head, he was smelling my hair.

"I like this...you smell nice." I didn't reply, only smiled, burying my face in his chest as we drifted off to sleep.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #solo harry #hs fandom #hs imagine #hs fanfic #hs2 #hs1

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memeuloser · 4 years

Text

Prompt: “You kissed me.” “You kissed me back.” “And I’m not here to apologize.”

Featuring: Alex x reader

Summary: You go out drinking with all your friends and remember some startling information when you wake up hungover.

Rating: PG

Author’s Note: I’m a sucker for fluff. Let me know what you think! I’m trying to get better at writing their personalities properly.

“Aye!” everyone shouted as glasses clinked together. You had invited your friends out for celebratory drinks after being offered your dream job and accepting, resulting in a $20k pay raise from your current job. Since the new gig didn’t start for another week, you planned on a long night leading to a very slow morning the next day.

You were already four shots and two tequila pineapples in and could feel the thrum of alcohol coursing through your veins. It made you feel lighter, happier, and more confident, made evident when you grabbed Alex by the hand and dragged him from your table to the packed dance floor.

“(Y/N), I don’t dance,” he laughed, still letting you drag him along.

“You do tonight!” you shouted over the music. The apprehension was clear on his face and even through your drunken haze, you could tell he wasn’t comfortable yet. “Do you need another drink? Let’s get you another drink first, come on.”

Alex didn’t even fight it as you walked up to the bar and ordered two more shots of fireball.

“Don’t listen to her, just one,” Alex told the bartender.

“Alex! Please do a shot with me,” you pouted. The bartender set the shot in front of Alex who handed him a five and downed the shot, only taking his eyes off yours for a second.

“If you drink any more, you’ll hate yourself in the morning,” he said.

“Oh, Alex,” you started, resting a hand on his chest, “I hate myself every morning.” You motioned for the bartender to bring two more shots, trading them for a ten this time. You clinked your glass against Alex’s before you both downed yet another shot for the night.

“Okay, now let’s dance!”

You danced with Alex for a while, switching from very bad ballroom dancing through the mass of people to even worse suburban dad dancing on the edge of the dance floor. The only problem was neither of you could decide if you were better or worse at dancing while drunk. Will and Mia joined you on the dance floor for a few songs, but most of your friends sat together chatting.

Then the DJ switched things up and played a classic: “Buttons” by the Pussycat Dolls. You immediately recognized the beat and your whole demeanor changed. Alex just laughed as you pulled him close and starting swaying your hips against his, only growing serious when you turned your back to him and started actually grinding on him.

He was surprised, to say the least. All of your friends knew there was a mutual attraction between you two, but you were both too stubborn to admit it was anything more than just friendship. This... this was starting to change Alex’s mind.

Your hands reached back to grab his and place them on your hips, hoping that would convince him to move with you. He seemed tense until you grabbed the back of his neck and tugged on the nape of his hair. That’s when he caught on and started grinding with you.

The song felt like a blur until you turned back to face Alex. When your eyes met, you took a chance and pulled him to your level, your lips molding against his as the bass reverberated through your bodies. Just as you pulled away, Alex grabbed your waist and pulled you close again. Your arms were slung over his shoulders and his hands were gripping your hips as you made out on the dance floor. No one cared. Except your friends, of course, who had a clear view of you two from the table. When everyone saw, Will passed George $10, causing all the girls to burst out laughing.

You both pulled apart eventually, hands intertwined as you ran over to your friends, all of whom were ready to go home for the night. You could tell you had hit your drink limit so you obliged, hopping into a Lyft with Will and Mia since you lived in the same area.

The next morning, you woke up to your phone dinging repeatedly. Fortunately, you had Do Not Disturb on, so the messages didn’t wake you up until 11 AM. Unfortunately, you were still hungover and felt like your stomach had been turned inside out. You really should’ve stopped when Alex told you to.

Oh. Alex.

Memories of the night before hit you like a brick wall and you shot up in bed, immediately regretting it as a headache rushed to your head. You reached for your phone, attempting to catch up in your group chat as well as replying to individual texts from the girls. Nothing from Alex.

You went about your typical hangover routine: hot shower, lazy day clothes, saltines for lunch, lots of Gatorade, and whatever Netflix show would let you lie on the couch like a zombie all day.

Your zombie impression was going pretty well until there was a knock on your door. You knew it wasn’t delivery - your stomach couldn’t handle much more than saltine crackers and buttered toast today - and none of your friends planned on coming over.

Your body froze when you looked through the peephole.

Alex.

You hesitantly opened the door and peered up at him. You could tell he was worse for wear as well, all thanks to those final shots he took to muster the courage to dance with you.

“Hey,” he said simply.

“Hey.”

“Can I come in?” You stepped back to let him into your flat. Nothing new. He had visited dozens of times before, usually with friends or for a movie marathon none of your other friends could stand. This visit was a little different.

“We need to talk,” he said once you were both standing in the living area.

“About what?” You hoped playing dumb would avoid the whole confrontation.

“You kissed me.”

You paused. What were you supposed to say to that?

“You kissed me back.”

“I did. And I’m not here to apologize.”

With those words, he cupped your face in his hands and brought his lips to yours again, capturing you in a much softer, more sensual kiss than the night before. This one meant something. This one wasn’t fueled by feigned, alcohol-driven confidence. This was shared by two friends who had really been lovers in disguise the whole time. His lips worked against yours, allowing your body to relax as he moved a hand to your lower back, both of your hands gripping his arms.

Alex was the first to pull away. The look on his face summed up the anxiety he felt waiting for a reaction.

“I like you, (Y/N). Like, really like you,” he said. “And I hope you really like me too.”

“Are you asking me to go steady?”

“No, but only because I’m not 105 years old,” he joked. “But I am asking if you’d be my girlfriend.”

You shrugged at him. “I guess.”

Alex rolled his eyes but shrugged back at you anyway.

“Good enough.”

#imallexx x reader #imallexx fanfic #imallexx fluff #alex x reader #alex fluff #imallexxsket #imallexx imagine

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deans-baby-momma · 4 years

Text

Rebel Without A Cause- Ch 17

A/N: NSFW chapter will be added to this DOCUMENT.

It was an extraordinary feeling being backstage during a Winchester Sex Bombs concert. It was only the manager, Crowley, a girl named Rayne who had been introduced as Sam’s girlfriend, and Maggie. There were no others in the room. A vast difference from the last time she had been there waiting for Dean to get finished performing. Back then, she had wondered if Dean would remember her and turn her away, choosing to hook up with one of the other women who had been in the room. Maggie never imagined that Dean had recognized her in the dimly lit bar and had wanted to find out if it was actually her; that he had often wondered what had happened to her after he and Lisa broke up. And she never, in her wildest dreams, would have thought she would end up in his bed that night. However, the childhood crush she'd had on her sister's lover had been mutual. Dean just had never acted on it because well, he was with Lisa and Maggie was extremely underage at that time. But now, seven years later, that childhood crush has turned into something more, something serious.

And to think, it all began after Maggie published an insulting and unfavorable article, causing Dean to seek her out.

FLASHBACK

“Let me be the first one to say though that you have no problems in that area. I was completely and utterly satisfied and fulfilled. You sure know what you’re doing in that department,” Maggie mutters as she feels a blush bloom on her cheeks.

Dean tries to hide the grin that is threatening to take over his face. Maggie had actually been fulfilled, pleased even, with him. It was literally the first time he had heard that from someone he cared about. Sure those random hookups always thanked him for sex, but this time the words meant something to him; they were gratifying.

"Baby," Dean says laying a hand over Maggie's on the table. "That means more to me than you know."

After they finished eating, Maggie had invited Dean back to her place for a nightcap, where once again he got a chance to find out just how good at pleasuring a female he was.

Dean wasn't going to question how he got here as he pulled the shirt over Maggie's head, exposing her bra-clad breasts. He wasn't going to wonder what deal he had made in another lifetime as he took those breasts into his hands but he sure was going to thank his lucky fucking stars when he once again got to sink into her hot, wet heat sans condom.

This time he had been prepared. Well, not that he had planned to be making love to Maggie; no, but he went in knowing how tight her body was and how much work it would take to get in. This time he wasn't going to explode only a few minutes later.

Dean had gladly agreed to accompany Maggie back to her place for an after-dinner drink with the intention of inviting her to another concert and to meet his friends and bandmates. He knew she might be aggrieved to be in the same room as Benny, but he was going to try.

They were sitting on her sofa when he decided to bring it up, Maggie sitting cross-legged. He turned and looked at her, causing her to sit her drink down and turn to him.

"Mags," he began. "I know the last time didn't really end well and it’s totally my fault for not locking the door. But I was wondering if you'd be willing to, uh..ahem...come to another one of my gigs as my special guest. Meet the other members of the band." He nervously broached the subject, already mentally anticipating her refusal. "You remember Sammy, my little brother, right? He ain't so little anymore. And my best friend Cas. He came by your home with me a couple of times I believe." Dean knew he was rambling but he was trying to delay the inevitable rejection.

Only instead of declining the invitation, Maggie had surprised him with her own query. "And in exactly what capacity would I be in? To be your "special guest"?" She has asked, using her fingers to make air quotes.

Dean ran a hand across the back of his neck. Why was he feeling so shy and bashful around her? He was so confident and certain of himself on stage but in the company of this girl he was meek and timid, demure even. "Um. Well, Rayne is Sammy's girlfriend and she comes to all the shows. Sits backstage and waits while we perform. You could do that, maybe? I think you and her would hit it off."

"So-" Maggie started, unfolding her legs and throwing one over his lap, her hands on his shoulders. "-how would you introduce me to your friends?"

Dean hesitantly placed his hands on her hips. "What do you want me to introduce you as?" He tightens his grip on her and pulls her down onto his growing erection. He can already feel the heat from her core through the clothes on both their bodies.

Maggie can't help but grind on his lap. His denim-covered dick pressed right against her clit and she could already feel herself getting wet. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into his ear, whispering. "Well, if we fucked again I guess you'd call me your girlfriend."

That was all it took. She pulled back to look at him and Dean crashed his lips onto hers. He tightened his grip and pulled her down onto his throbbing boner and began helping her writhe on him. Maggie’s arms clung firmly to him as she jerked back and forth, the friction in her panties boosting her arousal. “Dean, I want you,” she whispered against his lips.

In a flurry of movement, Maggie was off his lap and discarding her clothing as fast as he was. He hadn’t even got his jeans and boxers past his knees before she was back in his lap, her soft but drenched petals brushing against his hardness. “Fuck, Mags. I’ve wanted to do this again ever since the last time,” he whispered as he watched her movements. “You’ve got the best pussy ever.”

“You’re definitely the biggest I’ve ever had,” she said as his tip nudged her clit and she shuddered. “I felt you for days afterward.”

Dean groaned at her admission and the sensation of her dampness coating his dick. After a few minutes of just grinding against one another, Maggie lifted herself to allow Dean to grab his cock and guide it to her entrance. “Are you sure you can take me without preparation, baby?” he asked as he notched his tip at her entrance. “It’s been a while since we…” he didn’t finish his sentence because the thought of her with someone else made its way into his head and it fucking pissed him the hell off. He didn’t want to think of his sweet Maggie with anyone but him.

“Dean, I want to feel it. I want to feel every inch of you inside me. I can handle it, I promise.” And with those words she slowly began sinking down onto him.

Dean couldn’t help but throw his head back, eyes closed as he was enveloped by her tight cavern. It felt even tighter than last time and he guessed that was understandable. The last time he had eaten her out and fingered her open, this time none of that happened. “Oh fuck, baby! You are so fucking tight. Ride my dick, Mags,” he said as he adapted to the pleasure.

Maggie began bouncing on his length with a random grinding motion thrown in. It was driving them both crazy. She could feel the coil in her abdomen constricting and knew she was going to soak his dick with her orgasm. “Dean, talk dirty to me. Tell me how it feels.”

At first, Dean didn’t hear her request; too enamored with the woman riding his cock with her tits bouncing in his face. Once her words registered, he licked his lips and cleared his throat. He could do this. He could tell her whatever she wanted to hear.

“You wanna hear about how good that pussy feels sliding up and down my dick? How I can feel how tight you are and that I can tell you’re about to explode? I want to feel it, Maggie. I want you to cum all over my dick, let me feel it dripping down to my balls. Fuck Maggie, you feel good. God, baby. This is the only pussy I ever want.”

The deep timbre of his voice and his words were all it took before she felt that coil snap and she was cumming, doing just as he asked. “Yes. Yes. Yes!” Maggie chanted as she bounced vigorously on him. “Oh fuck, Dean.”

Dean pulled her body to his and kissed her languidly before pulling away and looking into her eyes. “Wanna do you from behind.”

Maggie nodded and climbed off of Dean, positioning herself on the end of the couch with her elbows on the arm of the furniture and her knees on the cushion. Dean stood up, pulled the rest of his clothes off and climbed in behind her, looking at the beautiful vision before him. The skin on her thighs and ass were blemish-free and smooth. For just a second Dean remembered the girl he had shared with Leo and how she had enjoyed being spanked. For Maggie though, Dean couldn't even fathom the thought of marring her perfect complexion. He leisurely ran a palm down her asscheek, his pinkie breaching her crack. Maggie looked over her shoulder at him and said, “No backdoor!’

Dean smiled and responded, “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he chuckled slamming into her.

Maggie threw her head back in ecstasy. From this angle, it felt as if he went even deeper. She reveled in the pleasured pain of it. His thrusts were meticulous and exact, hitting her g-spot with every push and pull. She could already feel another orgasm brewing and bent down to bite the fabric on the sofa. Her legs began shaking and she was afraid she was going to fall but she was determined to power through it.

Another half-hour though and she couldn’t take anymore. She dropped to the sofa and he followed, never severing the connection. Grabbing her hips tightly he set an aggressive pace, ramming into her, chasing is own impending end. Dean felt his balls clench and before he knew it, he was filling Maggie up again with his seed.

When he was sure the last drop was done, he collapsed on top of her for a second, kissing her shoulder and neck. “Baby, that was beyond wonderful.”

Maggie smiled and hummed in affirmation before Dean rolled off of her and grabbed his boxers to clean himself off. He also used his tee to help her clean up then wadded the material in his hand.

“So does that mean you’re my girlfriend now?” he asked with a smirk.

END FLASHBACK

Now here she is, backstage at another concert, waiting for her newfound boyfriend to finish his performance and come back to her, not out there picking women from the crowds to screw around with, a tremendous turn of events.

Maggie tenses when Rayne speaks up, “So you’re Dean’s girlfriend? Wow, never thought he would settle down with just one girl.”

@pink1031 @spnbaby-67 @winecatsandpizza @joseyrw @kricketc28 @tftumblin @markofdean79 @sandlee44 @michellethetvaddict @lyarr24 @travelingriversideblues-x

#dean winchester #SUPERNATURAL AU #dean winchester au #rockstar!dean #reporter!reader #rockstar!dean x reporter!reader #Dean x OFC #lil bit of angst #lil bit of fluff #whole lotta smut #smutapalooza #e'erybody be fucking #my second foray into AUs #deans-baby-momma #rebel without a cause #maggie fitzgerald #dean x maggie

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painfullyshoreditch · 4 years

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I accidentally stalked an e-girl

Oh god, this may be clickbaity and makes no sense but I have no idea how on Earth I’m supposed to title it, so I should just explain.

I’m really just using this blog as a playground where I can just talk about things on a whim rather than get in my head about how its curated, so if a title makes me kinda look bad, so be it.

We’ll refer to this lady as G. She is a recognised (not prominent) singer/rapper in the UK, specifically London, and I was a fan of her music. At that point, she was fairly fresh in the game, with her 30 minute soundcloud mix/EP released that garnered traction from my spotify suggestion playlist.

Absolutely typical e-girl look. Conventionally attractive, with a alternative edge of coloured hair and piercings.

The first time I had seen her in person, she was getting off the overground at highbury and islington station. I recognised her by her hair, but didn’t have time to properly see if it was her, so I decided to tweet her when I was home asking if she was there wearing a lilac maxi-skirt.

Turns out, she replied, it was a pair of long and loose trousers.

Anyway. You’d think the story ended there, however not on my watch apparently.

I was in a cafe near my university and I saw her!

She was sat down, drinking a cup of tea or something, and I asked her if she was who I thought she was.

She was! I was excited! We had a long chat about her situation and found out she was local to the area. I thought it would be a great idea to keep in touch with her as one of my upcoming projects was to film a music video, and I figured that this would be the perfect opportunity to do so.

We exchanged socials and went about our day.

I was so joyfully inept after that interaction, that I left my Macbook in the cafe, as I was supposed to be working there.

Thankfully I managed to retrieve it, but the story of getting to that point will probably be a shorter, separate one. I’ll add the scope for a hyperlink here when I get to it.

Long story short, although G was lovely, her management refused to let us shoot with her for the music video, and that was fine.

We found another artist, and moved on with our lives. I was happy that we (to this day) are still mutuals and was comfortable admiring her from a distance.

Our paths crossed again during- wait for it- a Charli XCX/PC music halloween party I won tickets for.

When we (my friend and I) were in, it was quickly established who won their entry, and who was invited, made possible by balenciaga drip coating members of The Echelon™️ and different coloured wristbands.

That’s why some people on the invite list actively refused to talk to me, and it really affected my confidence in speaking to others at the time, making it a bit overwhelming to do more than wave at her when we caught each other dancing.

To summarise, a lot of shit went down (enabling another linkeroo here) but there was a succinct moment where I could’ve caught up with G, beyond just dancing with her during a DJ set, but due a massive kerfuffle to the say the least, I had to rush around and ignore her.

Looking back on it, it would’ve been a good idea to have shot her a quick DM apologising for the lack of catch up but I was really overwhelmed by the entire situation and figured she was “over me” because she got invited to a party that I could only enter by chance.

Fast forward to not much interaction until I meet her by absolute chance! One of my favourite pastimes has and always will be viewing live music- and as someone who had their fair share of viewing industry giants (a privilege I can attribute to my childhood bestie’s mum’s career), at that point in alternative-ville I was obsessed with those who were up and coming.

So we are at this gig, and I am aware that the musician performing has, in fact, interacted with G on social media in the past, but figured that was about it.

The person performing was a really little known musician from Scotland that spotify suggested for me (thanks again, spots) and it was really surprising to see that G was there!

I bit my tongue again the entire time, and kept to the rear sides/bar although I’m pretty sure she noticed me. Firstly, I was just way too awkward to initiate the reunion, and Secondly, was under the weird impression that to her, there could only be so many weird occurances to see my face and call it a coincidence.

Hence the title of this post!

Gosh, I hope that whoever is reading this is finding it entertaining.

As mentioned previously, we are still following each other on social media, but I’ve never and am still really uncomfortable communicating with her because I have been perpetually feeling like an awkward fan who’s toeing the line of accidental stalker, when I really just want nothing other to be a chill acquaintance or maybe friend if I got to know her better.

The reason why I made this my premier post is because it was recently brought up in (socially distant) conversation with my friend. They mentioned that they had a crush on this guitarist they knew in a band, and with a bit of research I discovered guitarist and G were mates, and that the band they were in were going on tour with her at the end of the year!

Who woulda thought. Now I have to wrestle with the idea of playing wingman to my friend and risk gig security being on my ass in the event that I am seen as some kind of threat.

I promise I’m not!! I’m just here for the vibes.

Tell me, team, should I go to the gig? Am I being too anxious about this whole palaver? Let me know by messaging me!

Also, what type of content would you like to see more of? As much as this is a personal contribution, I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts of Shoreditch and how painful it can actually be.

Signing off,

L xx

#painfullyshoreditch #first post #e-girl #accidental stalker #don't ask #just read

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magistralucis · 5 years

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Ed Banger House Party @ Electric Brixton, 25 Jan 2019 [Review]

😍 Fucking fantastic you funky little Frenchmen... 😍

This was a very wild night. I can’t quite believe I survived it, even as I finish off writing thousands of words about it. It’s probably the most detailed review of a concert or show I have done to this date. I finally saw Sebastian in the flesh, was treated to over eight hours of sweet sweet music, and feel that I have begun my Ed Banger-related pursuits for this year in the perfect way.

And the loot. The sweet, sweet loot.

Read on for more. Mobile users, be warned this is a very long post.

The Journey

If you’ve read my other gig reviews you know the drill: I don’t live in London, have to commute there from wherever I’m living at the moment, London is difficult to navigate. But I had no trouble with my journeys this time, there were no Underground closures, and this venue was exactly the same one as the TBB show two years ago. Nothing to report there, only that I give props to our driver. There was an accident on the motorway, about 25 mins into a 2hr 20min journey. He took us on a thirty-mile detour to avoid the scene of the crash and still got us to London in time. If you’ve ever been on a National Express coach, you know what a big deal that is.

That wasn’t the only accident we stumbled upon in our journey, somewhere in Croydon (part of Outer London for non-UK readers) there was an altercation between two drivers and something like thirty police officers were present. It is rare to see that many police officers on scene for a single collision, so I wonder whether something more sinister was going on. All of them were wearing fluorescent vests and they reflected the light of the traffic most gloriously for a ten-meter stretch of the pavement. It was very attention-catching. I like to think they shared the same general sentiment of (o_o ) when they looked over and saw an entire busful of people goggling at them, but that’s neither here nor there. It was around 8:30PM when I got to London, and I spent some time lingering in the train station before making my way to Brixton.

I like queuing up early. I had no idea what I was going to find there.

9:20~PM: If you follow Thibaut on insta you might have seen this.

This instastory. It’s not obvious, but these three were far from the only ones in this picture. I know this because I FUCKING WALKED IN ON THIS PHOTOSHOOT. THESE THREE WERE NOT THE ONLY PEOPLE THERE. THIS WAS A VIP GROUP SHOT SESSION WITH 25+ PEOPLE OUTSIDE ELECTRIC BRIXTON AND I NEARLY BARGED IN AMONGST THEM LIKE A MOTHERFUCKING IDIOT

I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! ;A ;

I’ve met my favourite bands spontaneously. Gone for signings. Received compliments from Rammstein. I’ve shaken hands with Xavier. But I’ve never just happened upon an entire group of my favourite people engaged in a situation not meant for ordinary fans. I was honestly more terrified than elated. I knew they were VIPs because they (all DJs included) had blue wristbands on which allowed continued re-entry into the club, instead of the usual red club stamp on the back of the hand. Later in the show I recognized two of those people as stage photographers. Pedro was closest to me, Irfane passed by (he had very vivid eyes, even under poor lighting), and around the right-hand side Thibaut was putting his arm around Sebastian. I may have seen Vladimir Cauchemar unmasked. Shit was surreal.

This could potentially have been a good place to greet Sebastian zdravo. Unfortunately there’s a time and place for such things, and a VIP photo session I wasn’t involved in was not one of them. (Electric Brixton isn’t known for facilitating after-show fan meets either, due to the club’s structure and how everyone has to be herded out at the end.) Even if it were just the Ed Banger folks milling around, I'm not sure if I’d have been able to approach them in this case. ‘Cause ultimately, I am just an Animal Experiencing Fear, and I was caught so off guard; I stepped back and pretended I had nothing to do with the area. At least that way I could gather my thoughts and continue to observe.

I can tell you this entire moment took five minutes from 9:23pm to 9:28pm, but only because I checked my phone later. I didn’t want to take it out in the moment because I got paranoid they’d think I was a creep. As the phones and cameras were put away and normal conversation resumed I looked up and saw Sebastian five steps in front of me.

You know that recent Seb + Vinco picture. Hang on I’ll find it. You know the look Seb has in that pic?

That. That is his actual gaze. That is what Seb actually looks like when he has nothing to pose for and nobody to speak to. Unless something mind-boggling was happening in the empty space several feet away from where I was standing, that’s his normal nothing-to-see-here expression. At one point we met eyes. I think he blinked like once. You can’t tell his eyes are blue even from a short distance. He looked down, exhaled vape smoke, and bit his lip. Then someone (Myd?) ushered him into the open doors. And that’s how I accidentally stumbled upon the Forbidden Ed Banger Content, and while I was excited at what I saw, I think I’d prefer a do-over in the future. When they’re not all engaged in other business, when I have a pen and an adequate surface, and when I am not a fool with poor timing.

Also Sebastian was not as tall as I thought he was, but also far from short; Irfane was taller than I thought, but visibly shorter than Thibaut; Thibaut was taller than I thought, but no match for Pedro, whose height continues to boggle my mind. I have seen all of those people before, save for Sebastian. Pedro I have seen multiple times, with multiple people, in multiple contexts. Yet I still have no grasp of how tall anybody is in this label.

I don’t know what that implies about my visualization skills. At this point, I’m too scared to find out.

9:33PM: I’m going with this timestamp because that’s when I noted down that security cleared out completely with the VIPs, closing the front doors behind them. A girl comes up near me and stares at the venue, the ‘Ed Banger Records’ written in lights, then at the queue barriers (not open) for some time before turning to me. There were maybe five people altogether waiting.

Girl: Excuse me, is this the queue for people with tickets?

Me: I don’t know. We might be queuing to find out where the queue is.

Girl: [To a freshly emerged security guard, holding a sandwich.] Excuse me, do you know if there’ll be tickets at the door?

Security guard: [Incomprehensible - he’s speaking at close distance and a bus is freshly pulling up behind me, so I can’t hear them. He goes inside and shuts the door as soon as he says his piece.]

Girl: He doesn’t know. What am I going to tell my friends.

Me: Oh my God did you not get tickets.

Girl: My friends did! I was meant to get in early and get the drinks and stuff oh my God I DIDN’T KNOW THEY WERE GOING TO BE SOLD OUT 😰

Me: DIDN’T THEY SAY THERE WOULD BE A LIMITED RELEASE THOUGH 😰

By this time we’re both mired in anxiety.txt and others were coming forwards with the same experience. A group of three girls who got there shortly after me were all waiting for door tickets, and a guy came along who had a ticket for himself but was trying to get his friend (Asian girl, very pretty) in. (I will see this friend repeatedly throughout the show, but not the dude.) Eventually we looked up what the Electric Brixton website had to say, and gathered that a very limited number of tickets were available and they were all here at the right time to purchase it. As far as I know, everyone there got in without trouble.

First release tickets were £15.00. Later I was told it was £25.00 at the door.

Yeesh.

9:50PM: They finally open up the queue barriers. I’m fourth. Several of us in the line take a poll on who we’re here to see:

Pedro: ///

Breakbot: //

Sebastian: ////

Riton: /

Vladimir:

Myd: /

‘Everyone’: //

‘I’m here because of my friends’: /

The girl in the above section answered with the last one. Ed Banger rookie. Writing this now, I’m sure she had the time of her life.

I say Sebastian. Two guys in front of me nod sagely. One of them wears a Woman Worldwide T-shirt and a Justice logo jacket. We mutually express wonder that Seb’s, like. Doing anything again. At this point, however, the queue is split into two: ticketed and buying at the door, on the opposite end of the entrance. The girl and I say farewells as she departs for the latter. Unfortunately, I do not get to see her again. It’s a shame. She was lovely.

9:55PM: Security emerges with QR code readers and club stamps and starts to call us in go go go go go go go go

9:58~PM: The bouncer initiating pat down pauses over my portable battery for a very long time, seemingly considering whether that’s legal. Fuck my life. Eventually, though, he lets me in and I s p r i n t for the bar.

It has begun.

A note before I start: like the XOYO gig review last year, this review has been composed via rough notes, photos, and videos I took through the show. It was a longer night than last year, and everyone played for a lengthy period of time; this review is thus split into six sections, one for each DJ, including timestamped observations and photos/gifs of the night.

The gifs are taken from my own videos. Unfortunately, Electric Brixton’s setup made photography difficult for three reasons: 1) an abundance of flashing lights, 2) the elevation difference between the dancefloor and the DJ booth, unlike in XOYO where there was no audience-DJ divide, and 3) smoke machines, as well as actual vapers in the form of Sebastian Akchoté. Those three things make a mess onscreen, so images are potato quality compared to where I was (front center). This was a constant problem during the night, so instead of complaining about it with every DJ, I’ll just refer to this as the I Cannot See For Shit (ICSFS) syndrome and call it a day.

Busy P (10PM to 11:50~PM)

10PM: Mother fucking sons of bitches raised the price of water!

As mentioned in the TBB review, a 500ml bottle of water at Electric Brixton was £3.00 in 2017. (Even in 2019, at a supermarket it can be as little as 55p/500ml.) Harsh, but it is what you’d expect from London. But when I came back they’d raised it to a whopping £3.60. You could buy yourself a meal with that kind of money, albeit a small one, even for London. Disgusting.

But what can you do with something as necessary as water. I did expect it. I’m sore about it, is all.

10:05PM: Restroom visited, water bought and tucked into bag, jacket tied around waist. I was wearing armwarmers. I take my place by the barriers, front row center, with a guy on my left and an empty space on my right. Left-hand arrangement will not change during the night, while on the right it will be chaos.

10:10PM: Very superstitious / nothin' more to say / very superstitious / the devil's on his way / thirteen month old baby / broke the lookin' glass / seven years of bad luck / good things in your past

This is my first video of the night. Might upload it later.

10:21PM: USE IMAGINATION 💫 AS A DESTINATION 💘 USE IMAGINATION 💫 AS A DESTINATIoOoON 💘 USE IMAGINATION AND COME CLooOoOSER 👄✨ 👄 FOREVER BEEEEE 😘 😘💋

‘Pleasure’ summons the two dudes I was talking to in the queue to my right, especially the Justice fan guy. They stuck with me through Pedro’s set.

10:30~PM: Pedro looks a lot happier than he did at XOYO last year. He’s interacting a lot with fans, smiling, bopping about the way we have all come to expect from him.

10:40PM: I see the first glimpse of another DJ hanging around at the back. It’s Myd, drinking in a corner.

10:50PM: Is that what I think it is. I think it’s what I think it is

10:51PM: POP THE GLOCK THE GLOCK YOU POP IF YOU OUTTA LINE IT’S YOU I’LL BANG POP POP THE GLOCK THE GLOCK YOU POP IF YOU OUTTA LINE IT’S YOU I’LL BANG POP

Fantastic to hear some Uffie in the mix. I missed her so damn much. I think I might upload that clip as well because I want to share the experience with y’alls.

10:54PM: Thibaut jitterbugs into the scene. The lighting’s too bad for a photo so I post about it on the hellsite instead.

11:19PM: The display in front of the DJ booth has remained constant until this point, displaying the Ed Banger logo with only the occasional change in lighting. But now the display suddenly starts changing. Check it out.

It got really trippy with Breakbot.

11:29PM: ‘Genie’ comes on. I can see Thibaut and Irfane at the back now, ready to take over. I take my first drink since I entered the club.

11:52PM: HE PUT ON ‘BURNIN’. HE ACTUALLY DID THAT.

Pedro picks up the mic at this point and greets us for the first time during the night. I have what he said on video but it’s hard for me to transcribe it over all the audience noise, it might have to be an upload later on; I have videos of most DJ-DJ segues of this night, so hopefully that should be an interesting exercise. According to the timestamp on this video, 11:52-53PM is when Thibaut put on the headphones and took over from Pedro, but he continues to linger

11:55PM:

just so he can cOMPLETELY LOSE HIS SHIT APPARENTLY.

Breakbot (Thibaut and Irfane) (11:50~PM to 1:30AM)

12:00AM: At midnight Thibaut and Irfane take over fully with ‘Break of Dawn’. There’s something wild about listening to people sing a song with no lyrics (da DA DA DA darararaRA).

12:05AM: Irfane was on serious mode all night. I’ve also realized that the light situation is not going to get better; if it was Pedro alone I could have forgotten about it, but Breakbot’s set was where the ICSFS got really, really bad. There are so many photos where I tried to capture beautiful moments between Thibaut and Irfane, as they were quite touchy with one another (not as much as they were at XOYO tho), and yet it all turned to shit. I’m so sad.

12:10~AM: The two dudes to the right of me leave. The music is most funky fresh and the smoke machines are on max, so much I cannot actually see either of the DJs on scene. A girl wearing light blue takes over to my right.

I think Electric Brixton has reached full capacity. It’s not a big venue, fitting only about 2000 people or so, but I can feel it in the air. I look behind me and all around me are unfamiliar faces, packed tightly in a crowd. It’s hot. I take off my armwarmers and cram them into my bag.

12:16AM: Irfane baby I love you but that was not a smooth segue.

(I don’t actually know what song he was on but the music like. Stopped 100% for a second. It didn’t sound intentional.)

12:25AM: I have a note on my phone that says ‘12:25 Pedro making heart’. I have no memory of this. Fangirl magistralucis what are your secrets.

12:30AM: you 😍💖 are all I think about 😍✨😍✨😍 keep me sulking and down 😘👇🏼 but you fill me with 🔥 so much 🔥 emotion 😳💖😳 and I’ll show my 🙏🏼🕊💐 devotion 💐🕊🙏🏼 to you ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

12:31AM: I cannot see for shit. Here have a light show I guess.

12:36AM: Dance, dance with me / Life's a fantasy / Stand next to me / Like ecstasy

12:48AM: Irfane puts on ‘Funkytown’. Thibaut dances beautifully. I’ll drink to that.

12:51AM:

What the hell is this?

1:07AM: Extra, extra, read all about it! The Mysterious Ninth Planet, located at last! Turns out it was in the hands of funky Frenchmen all along, who were hoarding not just the ninth planet, but ALL THE PLANETS

1:08AM: You may have seen what was happening during the above in Irfane’s instastory, actually. He put on ‘Le Freak’. I wonder whether I should upload this clip from where I was.

1:10AM:

?????

1:20AM: Pedro comes back into view. I try to film him but it doesn’t work out, and for once it had nothing to do with ICSFS. The girl to the right of me, who was rocking out for all of Breakbot’s set, is beginning to slump over on the railing. "Are you okay?” I call, but I don’t think she heard. From how rapidly it came on, how she could barely stand during the first five minutes of VC’s set, and how frantically her and her friends left afterwards (she could barely walk), it is quite possible she was going into diabetic shock. She did not return.

This is a known issue. You generally cannot bring food into London clubs, even if you’re diabetic. Electric Brixton had a complaint two years ago that a diabetic person was not permitted to bring in their food to prevent this exact thing happening. I hope whatever she had wasn’t that serious, but. I do wonder.

This leads to a note about security, I suppose. There were none up front by the barriers. There was no one to call for help to, except for maybe the stage photographers, and that’s not what they’re trained to do. People who were falling sick or too inebriated to stand would have benefited from having security help them beyond the barrier straight away, instead of having to wade their way back through a tight crowd.

This continued to be a problem.

1:20~AM: Vladimir Cauchemar is visible. He doesn’t have the skull mask on, but with something smooth concealing his face, kind of like the Taikobots of Danger’s Taiko-era set. When he takes over he has put the mask on.

Vladimir Cauchemar (1:30AM to 2:30AM)

1:30AM: I gotta say, VC was the easiest and the best to photograph in this show, and I both respect and resent that fact.

VC’s lighting stayed a consistent red and black through his set, similar to how it was at XOYO, and the clearest images I have of the night are of him. I’m still not over his collab with 6**9*** so my impression of him isn’t out of the woods yet, which is why my notes for him are brief.

I tell you what, though. He got the crowd going. VC was the first DJ to get the dude standing to the left of me dancing, and this is the dude who stayed the entire eight hours of the night by my side while on my right people faded in, faded out, barged into places. (Dude was holding out for Sebastian, but stuck around for all of Myd as well.) His set had serious limitations - the most gregarious sin of which I’ve noted down below - but he had a great stage personality. I have very mixed feelings.

Still didn’t prevent me from standing out certain songs to go on Russian duolingo, but that was my pride.

1:35AM: ‘Aulos’ comes on. I will upload that video because I might as well, I’ve little else videoed for VC. Someone taps my shoulder. It’s the friend of the dude whom I encountered outside, the Asian girl. “Can I put this here?” She calls, and places her coat down beyond the barrier; there are steps on the other side where you can place your drinks, bags, coats etc if you’re front row. She withdraws behind me afterwards, and when I next look back, she’s gone.

1:40AM: I’m honestly surprised how many people are digging VC’s set. He was not first choice for anyone I asked.

1:51AM: Vladimir, Aulos is great but not twice in the same set.

2:00AM: Third drink of the night. My legs are getting numb. The first 3-4 hours of a set are always the hardest. I don’t remember what VC was playing. At several points he played Michael Jackson but I have no record of when. I stood still to rest my legs and distracted myself with other pursuits.

2:18AM:

Hi I’m in this photo and I don’t like it.

2:26AM: VLADIMIR. AULOS IS GREAT, BUT NOT THRICE IN THE SAME SET.

This. This is the major problem with his set. I know it’s his biggest hit, but VC exploits ‘Aulos’ way too much, and from what I hear he essentially does this for every set he plays. Would it injure him to play a different song every now and then. Seriously. There are so many excellent songs in the world, and some of them might even be ones he’ll drop in the future. Why stick to ‘Aulos’ alone. I don’t get it.

2:26~AM: As I was noting down the third instance of ‘Aulos’, the girl who put her coat down returned. “Can I have my coat back?” She calls over the sound, and I peer over. I can’t see the coat. The red spotlight passes over the floor; the coat’s rolled off the steps and is now lying on the ground.

“I can’t reach it.” I shout. “It’s fallen off.”

“Oh no.” She shouts.

“Can you wait until the segue?”

She shakes her head. “I’ll go over the barrier, but thanks.”

I offer to help her over, but she doesn’t think she'll make it. She ducks out past the crowd and goes around the side instead (no security to stop her), runs over to grab her coat, and then leaves straight away. She’ll be back for Sebastian’s set, but now it’s Riton time.

Riton (2:30AM to 3:30AM)

I didn’t enjoy Riton’s set very much. This had 0% to do with his music and everything to do with the chaos on my right-hand side, which made it worse. If it was the artist that was bad you chalk it up to a mismatch in interests, but knowing other concertgoers unilaterally deprived you of a good experience is a unique level of terrible. There are no timestamps for this section because I was too busy keeping an eye on my surroundings to take notes; he was also afflicted with the ICSFS, which didn’t help, but it’s a darn shame how much I missed out.

Oh and that too. That was his light show. Riton was a special guest and his name/logo was the dominant display for the entirety of his set. But I’m not here to talk about that. I’m here to talk about the chip on my shoulder.

Here’s the thing. I attend most of the gigs I go to by myself. I prefer it that way because I get anxious when things go wrong. I have a very specific set of items I bring with me to concerts, and practice very meticulous timekeeping. One of the rules I observe during gigs is that I do not move from my position: I prefer front centre or front centre-right generally, but wherever it is, I stay put.

I am not a tall woman. If I lose my place, it is unlikely I’d get it back. I’m full of anxiety about being at my place, but I’m more anxious to avoid losing it, so I defend it with all my might. I have never lost my place in almost ten years and this show was no exception. But my goodness did the guys to my right push my buttons this time. The guy who was to the right of me for Riton was with a group, all of whom were banging on the barriers and creating a ruckus. Just my luck he was the only one who seemed actually inebriated. He kept putting his head down on the railing, slumped over for minutes at a time, before suddenly raving and flailing around whenever Riton dropped a beat. He had no consideration for whoever he was accidentally knocking about (i.e. me) during this. And as I said, there was no security up front, so I was on my own.

At first I had some sympathy, because I still wasn’t over the girl who left earlier. I’ve never seen people who were inebriated/high during shows last very long where they were, either. But the fifteenth time dude nearly poked my eye out, it was just too much. I do not like people prodding their way into my personal space. I do not like it, Sam-I-Am.

The last time I had to be vicious with a concertgoer was at TBB, where a ginger-haired girl kept on trying to tear people from their place up front, and eventually was ejected by security after she got into a catfight with another girl next to me. Apparently this time it was my turn to give into Righteously Indignant Bitch Hours and the next time he started flailing his arm into my neck, I grabbed him and slammed his hand onto the railing and shouted “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU.”

I wish I could say this made him stop. However, life is dumb. Dude was too out of it to comprehend his own actions, let alone my complaints. His friends pulled him out of the front row for about five minutes but then he came staggering back, muttering something about his lens cap (?) and if I’d seen it. It wasn’t long before he began to barge into the surrounding people again. Only elbows were the solution; I can barely move my right arm even now, it feels so bruised. I’m not proud of what I did, but I’m not sure what I could have done differently, and I would do the same even now.

But, you know. It could have been worse. If you’ve been front row, you know there’s a difference between those who’re trying to grab a good time and those who act out of malice. The former usually try to sneak a hand in next to yours on the railing, or crash into you from the back, or wedge their way in - but they almost always follow it up with an apology, and they tend to carve out their own little space, not actively steal yours. Yes I’m talking about that ginger-haired girl at the TBB show again. I’ve attended full on firebreathing industrial metal shows at much bigger, suffocating venues, and yet those audiences still managed to avoid being vicious and petty. She was the worst. Holy shit. It’s been two years and I’m still mad. Fucking bitch I hope you step in a puddle. What was I writing about again? Oh yeah the dude. He wasn’t acting out of malice, but out of irresponsibility. And to be honest, his friends weren’t that better, save for a girl who was about five feet eight tall and complimented that I was still standing later in the set: “I had to sit down after Thibaut and you’re still jumping like nothing happened!”

That made me think about my own stamina. I never thought I had much. I’m twenty-five years old. I’m in my prime, but I had more energy when I was eighteen, and I am old enough to keep that in mind. I’m not getting younger. After a show I’m bruised and my muscles ache and I pass out asleep for hours at a time. I’m usually awake for 30hrs~ during those times. I don’t eat or drink much before shows to prevent bathroom breaks. I ate on 3:30pm on the 25th and didn’t touch a single morsel of food again until 7am on the 26th, and even then it was a sandwich. After dancing for eight hours.

It’s been that way for years. But maybe most people? Don’t? Do that? And maybe I am? Actually quite strong? For regularly surviving what I do to myself?

I don’t know. Let’s move onto what I think 70% of you are here to read about.

Sebastian (3:30AM to 4:30AM)

3:30AM: Predictably, Sebastian gets the loudest cheers of the night when he comes on. Riton announces him and passes him the headphones. He still does the hand thing, by the way.

This thing.

3:30~AM: Not an observation of the moment, but of the entire set. Seb played some big name EDM songs and what I believe are versions of his YLS tracks. He was the only set I wanted to record in full, but I wasn’t tall enough and my equipment wasn’t good enough to do so. ICSFS is in play. I sort of hoped he'd stuck with his vicious red lighting from Primary Tour, and he did, but not to a degree where I could get good shots of him.

Is anyone excited for him to drop an album this year or what. Pedro said he would.

3:38AM: Seb also has the dubious honour of being the only DJ who contributed extra to the ICSFS problem. He vapes through the entire set. I have lots of feelings and I don’t know what to do with myself honestly.

3:39AM: Neither do the dudes to my right. They are the friends of the inebriated dude who has since staggered off into the crowd. They are completely losing their shit, screaming and taking their shirts off and kicking at the barriers. They contributed to some of the bruises on my right arm. But they still didn’t take my place so whatever.

3:40~AM: Seb is not a smiler. Photographer comes by and he gives him a single glance before turning back. I don’t know why I’m surprised.

3:43AM: The Asian girl with the coat from earlier comes back. She asks me to deposit a different layer of coat this time over the barrier, and stands behind me. I feel very protected.

3:50~AM: Balm to aid my pain: photographers start coming down from the stage to pass out Ed Banger pins and stickers. The first lot are thrown into the audience, but the second photographer takes the time to give all of us one. This is the first time I’ve scored thrown Ed Banger merch during a set. I usually can’t reach them because I am smol.

I am also bonding with the dude to my left during this time. We collaborate to catch the pins we want and share them out between the two of us. He gets the Ed Banger melody logo pin, and gives me the Ed Banger 15 Ans pin. “Are you sure?” I ask. He smiles and nods. I thank him and hand him a Breakbot sticker, one that’s of his name.

4:06AM: What the fuck the lights are changing

4:06AM: Is that

4:06AM: IT IS

4:07AM: IT’S JUSTICE. IT’S HEAVY METAL. SEB’S PLAYING HEAVY METAL AND HE’S DOING THE HAND THING AND THE LIGHT SHOW’S TRIPPY AS FUCK ALL OF A SUDDEN AND EVERYONE IS SCREAMING AND THE DUDE LEFT OF ME IS DECLARING HIS LOVE FOR SEB IN FRENCH AND I AM SCREAMING OH MY FUCKING GOD

4:09AM: HE SEGUES TO ROLLIN’ AND SCRATCHIN’. HE LITERALLY DID THAT. SEBASTIAN AKCHOTE IS PLAYING ROLLIN’ AND SCRATCHIN’ AND WE’RE ALL GOING BATSHIT INSANE. I’M SORRY FOR THE BAD CAMERA WORK. THIS IS HOW I DIE.

4:15~AM: Myd is finally going back and forth. He will close the night after Sebastian has finished his set. Looking back on the videos of the night, I can’t believe he only played for an hour; it felt a bit longer than that, Sebastian never let up for a single second as long as he was onstage. Not a single minute wasted. And now you’re going to have to excuse me babes because he’s puttING ON STRESS AND WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE AGAIN RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW

4:24AM: AAAAAAAAAAAA

(Seb’s still playing Stress. Looping the chainsaw noises. Steady camera work lmao what steady camera work)

4:30AM: Sebastian hands over the reins to Myd at this point. I do not have a video of this segue because he does not announce the takeover; with one of his inscrutable hand gestures and a proud look, Sebastian takes up a whole bottle of wine and silently walks offstage. Again, I don’t know why I am remotely surprised. That is probably the most Seb thing I have seen Seb do all night, and it was a night extremely full of Seb things.

At this point I stop jotting down notes on my phone. But I’m at about 58% battery and going strong, so I’m still taking photos and videos whenever I can. Myd’s section is reconstructed from these records.

Myd (Round 2) (4:30~AM to 6:00AM)

4:30~AM: Not a specific observation. As mentioned in the Breakbot review of May 2018, I have unfinished business with Myd. Or at least: had. Myd played the closer in XOYO last year, and back then I was weak and I could not stay through his entire set. I swore to myself the next time he returned, and I was able to see him, I would last as long as he was onstage.

And I did. That’s one promise to myself kept, and what I hope was a little justice done for a DJ of Myd’s caliber.

4:35AM: Coat girl taps my shoulder again. “I’m going home. Could you...?” She gestures to the barrier, and I reach down and pull up her coat. It didn’t roll onto the ground this time.

“There you are.” I say. She takes it and gives me a hug. “Have a good night.”

“Have a good night!” Then she’s gone, alongside the exodus of people who are leaving the club. More people stuck around for Myd here than in XOYO. Guy to my left nudges me to look; stickers are coming around again, specifically the ‘Hello My Name Is _______ [Myd]’ one. We each take one.

4:44AM: I’m out of water. Actually I was out of water immediately before Seb finished, because for some reason I thought downing the last of my only means of hydration with over 1h 30mins to go was a sensible thing to do. I regret this decision bitterly, but I’ll probably survive.

4:58AM:

@_@

5:03AM: It is very difficult for me to ID Myd’s tracks. I suspect a lot of them are original or are from his recent release that I haven’t yet listened to. Appropriate to a closer, he takes a very trance-inspired line to his entire set, with lots of repetition and few loud drops; this was the same in XOYO. I wonder what a Myd headliner set must be like.

5:10~AM: The guy to the left of me is struggling. So am I. But further to his left, there is a guy slumped on the rails. His girlfriend is beside him. They’ve been there all night, but they’ve clearly reached their limit. My right hand side keeps refilling and emptying as people step away or leave.

I talk about that other guy because he summons Thibaut to him.

5:28AM: I took several vids of this but this timestamp belongs to the longest. Thibaut comes back with his own phone to film the audience. He winks and shyly gestures all of us to gather our strengths and be more pumped up, and I recall we obliged him because he asked so nicely. He lingered for some time, gazing at us as fondly as we were gazing at him. He then looked at the guy slumped over on the railing and hopped down from the stage, gently patting his shoulder to talk to him.

I didn’t hear any of their conversation, save for Thibaut asking the dude ‘where he was from’. By the way he clasped his hand to his chest several times, though, I’m inclined to think he was really concerned about the guy. They eventually shook hands and Thibaut made as if to hop back onstage. (The photo was taken as he was leaving.)

Except he couldn’t jump that high. He gave us another shy look and braced his foot against the barriers, perching neatly on the stage before clambering up. He stuck around for about five more minutes to check up on the audience.

I love Thibaut so much. He’s so gentle.

5:34~AM: Holy fuck my bag is full of crap. I haven’t organized it in some time. Discarded cups, beer cans etc have accumulated by my feet, and as I kick them away I’m trying to check my loot is in place and I still have my items. I can’t feel my passport and my blood runs cold for a moment. I turn the camera flash on to look.

“Are you looking for something?” The guy to my left asks worriedly.

I feel my passport in my front pocket. False alarm. “Just organizing my bag.”

(I didn’t see any lost foreign ID or driver licenses on the floor this time.)

5:43AM:

Russian duolingo says fuck millennial lives

5:50~AM: The smoke machine is turned off. I still can’t see for shit, though, because the lights flash rapidly between deep blue and violet and Myd’s hidden behind it.

My last video of the night is timestamped 5:55AM. Myd has a most benevolent smile on his face. He knows the night is drawing to a close.

6:00AM: I did it.

We made it.

I have made it through a Myd set fully and have survived the night.

Myd finished exactly at 6am and exited to a crowd of applause. There are calls for an encore, but given that it's... like, literally morning, it’s not realistic to expect him to stay any longer. Security comes by as soon as he exits, and we all leave Electric Brixton behind at last. The sun has not yet risen. I fall in step with the guy next to me.

Guy: Where are you heading to?

Me: Coach. I came up from Brighton.

Guy: From Brighton?! Was that last night or what?

Me: Yep, two hours before the show. I haven’t eaten or slept all night.

Guy: Wow. [Pause.] Though I think that’s the longest I’ve danced in my entire life, too.

Me: You’re not kidding. I really didn’t think I was going to last beyond Sebastian.

I think he was a Londoner. We say farewells in front of the Electric Brixton bus stop, and I leave for the Underground. My legs are numb and I can barely walk, but somehow I stumble past the barriers and sink into the seats of the train. Back at Victoria Train Station I drop in at Sainsburys for a sandwich and two cans of grape soda, and then realizing I need a resealable container to take on the bus, buy a bottle of Pepsi. The grape soda was just because I really love grape soda and I cannot find a place in Brighton that sells any. It was around 8AM when I finally got on the coach back home.

I had not slept for some twenty hours. I continued to not sleep on the bus. I tried very hard to, but I couldn’t, because I was still buzzing from the adrenaline. It wasn’t until I got home, just after 11AM, that I began to feel sleepy for real. Sig. other made me a cup of tea, and I took the interval to admire some cat slippersocks that had arrived for me in the meantime.

LOOK AT IT.

Overall I’d say this was a fantastic night. I have taken care of unfinished business and seen Sebastian in the flesh. I have, however, come away with another unfinished business to replace the deal with Myd - I should seek out Riton again, the next time he comes here, and deliver a full review of what that was like. To think of the Ed Banger crew making their way across Europe in 2019, with new material and a new Sebastian in tow...

😍😍😍

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heathergraves · 5 years

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Don’t remember the last time I made a super long, personal post on here

But here I am, cause I really don’t know where else to vent about this. Truthfully, I don’t really know where to start. Or really have a collection set aside of everything I need to say on the subject. So I am just going to type as it comes to me. And hope that I get it all out.

I would not consider myself “a jealous person”. What could be mistaken as jealousy in my heart, often times is simply self doubt. Something that I deal with in many areas of my life. I am not “a jealous person”. But I do hold a tremendous amount of harmful jealousy and envy in my heart over one person. I first met them almost 6 and a half years ago now. When I first met them... when I first met her, she didn’t really have a whole lot to her life. It was all rather average. Her energy made me feel sympathy and like I needed to show her what was out there. To this day, I still feel some regret for making that decision. All for, I can admit, very selfish reasons.

One of the first things I did for her was bring her out to this bar here in downtown Ottawa called Zaphods. They had these weekly events, I guess you could say, on Tuesday nights. Tuesdays were “goth industrial” nights there. There was no real reason for me to bring her there other than to bring her out somewhere. She has no tattoos and no piercings, and never really expressed any interest in dark anything. Other than having a whole room in her apartment specifically for all the snakes she owns. Its because she seemed like a very open-minded person that I brought her there. And she did seem to enjoy herself a lot. So the following weekend, I decided to bring her to this other bar here that had their goth nights, called “Death Disco”, on saturdays. That is where I was able to introduce her to a handful of my friends. One of which was a guy I had had a crush on. And it was from that point on that the jealousy inside me began to brew. Was only a matter of weeks before the two of them got into a relationship. And yes she knew how I felt about him. That relationship carried on for almost 5 years.

In those 5 years, her life became bigger and bigger. And I felt like I was being squeezed out of it. I would of course see her here and there as she was dating a friend of mine and had become acquainted with a great deal of my other friends. But a lot of what she said to me through those years felt like it was near entirely lacking in sincerity. I would get the occasional “I miss you” or “We should def hang out sometime soon!” txts. But rarely did any actions follow those txts.

Through the years, much quicker than I’d have guessed if you asked me when I met her, her life became...everything that I had ever wanted in my life. She was, and is, that girl that everyone loves. Everyone is blowing up her inbox, she’s always being invited out to lunches, dinners, parties, weekend trips to Montreal. She has modelling gig after modelling gig, countless companies tossing heaps of free products at her, she’s the girl that can make men whom seemed entirely dead-set on the bachelor life fall in love with her. Men who were notorious players prior to meeting her, and she just hooks them in without even trying. It seems that she can do no wrong in the eyes of just about everyone that knows her. And now has a new boyfriend she’s been with for a year. He’s in a famous death metal band and now she occasionally joins him on tour and is set side stage to watch him play. And I believe it goes without saying that she is STACKED. Perfect body, perfect long, straight black hair, plump lips, and eyes that are striking as can be.

I had to remove her from all my social medias a little over a year ago now. I just couldn’t stand seeing her life and how great it is. It was very quickly becoming a greatly toxic thing towards my mental health. And yet... I don’t hate her. I don’t dislike her. I miss her and I miss going to parties with her and spending time with her (However rare those nights became). But I cannot seem to shake this humongous green-eyed monster inside of me every time she pops up on my feeds because of mutual friends (Which, yes, we have a lot of). Though I am certainly not without reason to feel some level of jealousy/envy towards her. I know that I shouldn’t feel this way. I don’t want to anymore. I have never felt this level of jealousy, envy, insecurity towards one person before. But I don’t know how to overcome that feeling. To anyone who is somehow still reading - How do I overcome this? I want to so badly.

#personal #envy #jealousy #jealous #green eyed monster

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noahfence1d · 7 years

Link

On a muggy May morning in a penthouse in Battersea, southwest London, the delectable self-styled “chef and food consultant” Tess Ward is slumped on an enormous grey sofa, cradling a cup of peppermint tea and musing on the downsides of social media.

“Snapchat I’ve deleted, Twitter — don’t really do it,” she says wearily, her home counties accent as sharp as mandolined celeriac. “I’m even a little bit out of love with Instagram. At the moment I’m getting a lot of direct messages there, but I respectfully choose not to reply to them, because they’re all, like, er . . . interesting. I want a break,” she wails, her tones turning mock-northern. “I just want a break.”

Why is Ward so disillusioned? She’s a key member of today’s cohort of gorgeous, uber-connected food writers/chefs/wellbeing gurus (think “Deliciously” Ella Mills of the Sainsbury dynasty and former models Jasmine and Melissa Hemsley), following the favoured career path for upper-crust pretty things, whom the satirical website the Daily Mash unkindly categorised under the headline “Sexy posh girls unveil bullshit fad diet”.

As in all their cases, Instagram has been key to building Ward’s brand: she has nearly 130,000 followers, mesmerised by her soft-focus lifestyley/foodie shots of toasted almonds and beetroot salad, Ward doing yoga on a Yucatan beach, sweet potato and avocado brunches, Ward sunbathing on the shores of Lake Como and looking foxy at the polo in a bright-red floral Gucci shirt . . .

This last shot, posted early last week, nearly broke social media, not to mention a million teenage hearts — and brought her an additional 50,000 followers. It was apparent confirmation that Ward was — as had been rumoured for days — going out with Harry Styles of the boyband One Direction. Only four days earlier he had been seen about town in an identical £530 shirt.

That same day Ward was papped in the passenger seat of an Audi being driven by Styles, whose first solo album was about to be released. Instantly, she became a 21st-century Yoko Ono, loathed by loyal Directioners who are notorious for making voodoo dolls and sending death threats to any woman with whom their idols are spotted socialising.

They started trolling Ward’s social media. An innocuous Instagram snap of her mango and honey ice cream (dairy-free, obvs) attracted more than 3,000 comments along the lines of “Go awaaay”, “Ew”, “This looks disgusting” and “social climber”.

On Amazon her cookbook The Naked Diet, which had so far received about a dozen four and five-star reviews, overnight attracted a tranche of one-star write-ups, along the lines of “boring” and “unoriginal”.

“It’s been so weird, the hate messages . . . very bizarre,” Ward sighs, her fragile frame hunched. “I’m not the kind of person who’s interested in fame and if you’re put in an environment which you don’t understand and you can’t control and you don’t want, it’s horrible.”

She bites her lip; her doll-like, tanned face bleak. “Reporters have turned up at my mum’s house several times, at my old house. I just want to do what I love and that’s cook, it really is.”

So what’s going on? Is Ward, 27, going out with Styles, 23?

“I literally don’t have anything to say about that,” she sighs, as her PR snaps: “My clients don’t talk about their personal lives.”

Many distraught Directioners are convinced there’s nothing to talk about because this is all a publicity stunt to flog cookbooks (although what’s in it for Styles is less clear). Last weekend, Ward attended his “secret” London gig until, according to one fan who claimed on Twitter to have been standing near by, she was told by Styles’s people: “That’s enough, you can leave now.” In other words, her presence had been noted, job done.

If this is all a ploy to boost Ward’s profile, I doubt she would be so visibly shaken. Shortly after we meet, Ward disables her Instagram messaging facility, posting: “For everyone following and messaging me, I am thankful but please be kind to me. All I want is to share beautiful food with you all.”

Assuming there is a relationship, then Styles, who is refusing to comment, is a lucky chap. Because, even compared to his arm-long list of exes (Taylor Swift, Kendall Jenner, Caroline Flack, Pixie Geldof, Rod Stewart’s daughter and someone from Made in Chelsea), Ward is a catch, ridiculously pretty in frayed jeans and an embroidered denim jacket, bobbed fair hair, endearingly darker at the roots, framing an angelic face — a testament to the power of good genes and quinoa.

She’s also — when not brooding on her role as Britain’s most-hated woman — extremely likeable: voluble and friendly with a dry sense of humour.

“People can be so weird,” she continues on the social media theme. “You post a salad and they’re like, ‘That’s not nutritionally balanced.’ I like to be playful. There’s a slight puritanism about the way a lot of people post about food — they’ll be like, ‘I’m eating this salmon bowl and it’s got all these omegas, it’s perfect for getting your skin to glow.’ I’m like, ‘I don’t care! It’s a f***ing salmon salad!’ ” She frowns as she scrolls through comments on her Instagram feed. “Here’s this pasta recipe I’ve written. ‘Even if it’s not perfect it’s good when it’s made with love’ — that’s a bit too earnest. I was like, ‘Ew! God, far too nice for me.’ ”

Part of London’s It crowd (she is forever being snapped at parties with minor royals and the models Suki Waterhouse and Amber Le Bon and was, allegedly, introduced to Styles via “mutual friends”), Ward has walked here in Battersea from the house she shares in west London. “I used to live alone, but when you cook, you need people around to offload the food.” She’s looking to buy in hipper Stoke Newington, nearer the buzzing bars and restaurants.

Her parents — she has a brother, who’s a student — divorced when she was ten. Her father, who lives between west London and Oxfordshire, works for a multinational property company. “Dad’s a bit nuts; he wears tweed suits and bright purple shirts and odd socks always,” she says, smiling, scrolling through her phone to find a picture. “Look, here he is going to a fancy-dress party, dressed as bouillon, so in a chicken hat.”

Her mother, who lives in Oxford, is a yoga teacher. “She’s very spiritual, she sends me pictures of her in her crystal healing area. So cute. I have the best parents. They’re very progressive, bohemian, they’ve always been like, ‘Do whatever you like, it’s your body, it’s your life’, but everything has consequences and as a result I’ve always been very responsible.”

Ward was a tomboyish child, happiest helping her maternal grandfather, a farmer, to “pluck pheasants and gut fish’’. She attended a Quaker boarding school, then a small private day school for girls in Oxford. “I hated it. I was disruptive and got in so much trouble. I really didn’t feel the cookie-cutter school system was for me.”

However, she flourished at the local private sixth form college and ended up following a classic upper-middle-class path of reading history of art at the University of Leeds where, with a lot of free time, she held “a lot of dinner parties”.

On graduating, she did some modelling “but that didn’t sing for me”, so studied classical French cooking at Le Cordon Bleu, before working at various establishments including the Ritz and River Cottage.

“Cooking for people didn’t really do it for me. You’re always making the same stuff, and in a restaurant the hours are long and it’s hard physical labour. You’re on your feet for at least 14 hours a day and I’m not very big — my parents were like, ‘You’re quite pale and weathered.’ ”

She started reviewing restaurants for Grazia magazine, consulting brands such as Fortnum & Mason and Grey Goose. In the future she is hoping to open a restaurant and write a sequel to The Naked Diet, whose title reflects Ward’s “stripped back” approach to unprocessed food.

Like Ella Mills, Ward has been “mindful” of what she eats as a result of health issues — travelling alone around India on her gap year she picked up a parasite that was eventually cured by a clinical nutritionist (she has done an online course at the Institute of Integrative Nutrition). She’s allergic to soya and avoids wheat: “It gives me a stomach ache.” She doesn’t eat dessert much because “I don’t have a terribly sweet tooth” and dislikes melted cheese — “so pizza’s out”. She has just given up red meat “more for the planet than for dietary reasons. Other than that, I’m pretty relaxed.”

The #avotoast world is an increasingly crowded one and can be bitchy. Last year she had a skirmish with the Bake Off finalist Ruby Tandoh, after Ward tweeted: “Let’s all make baking books and wonder why the world has health and sugar addiction problems.” Tandoh lashed back calling her a “denizen of the weight loss industry” on Twitter, screenshotting a reference to a “Skinny Bitch” cooking class Ward had hosted.

“A lot of girls in food aren’t so nice,” Ward says. “Though the Hemsleys really are good girls. I went to their first book launch when I was submitting my first draft, looked around and thought, ‘This is the beginning of a thing, isn’t it?’

“Ella’s book was coming out, it became a wave and the media lumped us into one category. But I was very aware that these were girls telling people what they should eat. I’m not a qualified nutritionist, I’m a chef — my standpoint is food being delicious primarily and secondarily what’s good for you.

“Healthy living is a trend and that’s more my thing than clean eating, which is a fad and something I feel I was pulled into. The vegan and the clean can perpetuate a lot of other problems, which aren’t good.”

#tess ward #Harry Styles #some good PR person is managing this mess #I'm reserving judgment at this time

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5hfanfiction · 7 years

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Come Back, Be Here - Chapter 8

Lauren puts the finishing touches on her make up and slides on her black pantsuit. Today, she has a job interview for the Applied Arts Instructor position at Miami Arts & Design Education. The woman she co-owns the art studio with in Venice mentioned that she had a friend in the Miami area that worked at M.A.D.E and last night she called Lauren to tell her that she has a job interview at 5 pm.

After applying her red lipstick and fixing a few stray hairs, the artist grabs her car keys and heads to the door. She turns off her music and finds herself humming the last song that was playing while she was getting ready.

“Crawling back to you. Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few? Cause I always do.” The brunette sings as she exits her apartment and turns around to lock the door. “Maybe I’m too busy being yours…” She abruptly stops singing when she turns around and comes face to face with an amused Camila. A blush rises up to settle on the green-eyed girl’s cheeks.

“Never took you as an Arctic Monkeys kinda girl.” Camila smirks as she slings her guitar case on her back.

“They are a hell of a band.” Lauren comments, praying her face isn’t as red as it feels.

“Agreed.” Camila smiles. “So where you headed, business woman?” Brown eyes scan the beautiful girl in front of them.

“Job interview at Miami Arts & Design Education.” She smiles while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Guess you are headed to a gig?” Lauren points to the guitar case sitting on the former teacher’s back.

“Yep and I probably should go. Don’t want to keep the fans waiting.” The brunette chuckles as she sends Lauren a quick wink and starts to descend down the stairs. Lauren laughs and follows Camila down the stairs.

“See ya, Lauren.” Camila waves when they hit the bottom of the stairs and Lauren frowns when she notices that Camila is walking away from the parking lot.

“Are you walking there?” Lauren blurts out before Camila can take another step away from her.

The brunette turns around. “Yeah.” She sighs. “The medical bills after the attack were fairly expensive and I just got them all paid off a couple of months ago. I guess a car has been the last thing on my mind.” She shrugs. “Dinah usually drives me anywhere I want to go, but she’s at work and the bar is only a mile away so I just walk.”

The young teacher looks so small to Lauren at the moment and all the green-eyed girl wants to do is scoop her up in her arms and protect her from the world. She knows she can’t do that, so she brings her hand up to fiddle with the wedding band around her neck. Camila’s eyes fall as she watches Lauren toy with the ring around her neck.

“Is that um…” The young brunette points to the round piece of jewelry.

“Yeah.” Lauren breathes out. “It was… well is yours.”

“Oh.” Is all the former teacher mutters. Camila never knew something so little could be strong enough to send the muscle in her chest all the way to her stomach. But it was.

Lauren scratches the back of her neck, unsure of what to say as well. She has a lot to say, actually, but Camila wouldn’t be comfortable hearing it. Not yet anyway. Lauren despises awkwardness so she quickly tries to relieve some of it. She bows down and extends her hand to the girl in front of her. The former teacher quirks an eyebrow up at Lauren’s weird gesture, but doesn’t say anything. “May I be your chauffeur for the day, Ms. Camila?” Lauren tries out her best British accent and Camila doubles over laughing. When she finally composes herself, she sees that Lauren is still bowed down dramatically.

Rolling her eyes playfully, Camila slides her hand in Lauren’s and tries to mimic Lauren’s horrible British accent. “I would be delighted if you would.” Lauren just shakes her head in amusement as she escorts Camila to the car, relishing in the feeling of Camila’s hand in hers again. After the two get settled in the Charger, Lauren plugs in her phone and turns on another song she knows Camila likes. The Arctic Monkeys remind Lauren of Camila, considering the younger girl introduced Lauren to the band.

The mirror’s image

Tells me it’s home time

But I’m not finished

‘Cause you’re not by my side

Camila shrieks when the music fills her ears and reaches to turn it up louder. Camila ends up belting out the whole song and Lauren would have joined in, but she couldn’t stop laughing at Camila. The young brunette would use her right fist as a microphone each time she would sing the chorus and Lauren found it extremely endearing and quite amusing.

The green-eyed girl brings the car to a stop outside the bar and a frown washes over Camila’s features briefly when she sees that they are already at her place of work.

“You give me a ride and I repay you by practically busting your eardrums… and your speakers.” Camila chuckles. “Sorry about that.” She smiles sheepishly at the driver of the car.

“You never have to repay me for giving you a ride and you can bust my speakers and my eardrums anytime you want.” Lauren laughs as Camila slides out of the car and leans down in front of it, propping her elbows on the open window so she can make eye contact with the older brunette.

“Goodluck at the interview, Jauregui. I hope I didn’t make you late.” Camila pats the car once and starts walking backwards toward the entrance of the bar, her eyes still locked with Lauren’s. “Thanks again for the ride.”

Lauren waves and waits until Camila enters the bar. As she watches her walk in the door, Lauren realizes that the lyrics “I hate to see her go but I love to watch her leave” were written just for Camila.

That ass. Lauren thinks. She could write a million songs about it herself.

Lauren quickly glances at the clock and sees that it is only 4:30 pm. She mentally high fives herself for her smart decision to leave the apartment an hour early.

The interview goes fairly well, considering that she is hired on the spot. The woman who interviews her is very pleased with Lauren’s resume and mentions that their mutual friend put in a good for for the green-eyed girl.

After the interview, she decides to make her way to the bar, in hopes that Camila’s set hasn’t ended. As soon as she enters the dimly lit place, her ears are immediately graced with the sweet voice that gave her a private concert only a few hours ago. Lauren’s heart flutters when she hears that Camila is singing the bridge of “Do I Wanna Know?” She wonders if the song was on her set list before their encounter this morning or if it was added after. Lauren hopes it’s the latter.

The brunette plops down on a bar stool and informs the bartender that she wants an Angry Orchard. She laughs when she remembers how Camila used to always tell her that her beer of choice was “too sweet” to be a real beer. As soon as he hands her a bottled one, Camila starts strumming a different tune.

“This is an original.” Camila informs the bar patrons.

Honey you are a rock

Upon which I stand

And I come here to talk

I hope you understand

That green eyes

Yeah the spotlight, shines upon you

And how could anybody deny you

Lauren almost chokes on her beer when she hears Camila reference green eyes in yet another one of her songs. She places her beer down and spins around on her stool to give Camila her undivided attention for the rest of the song.

I came here with a load

And it feels so much lighter

Now I met you

And honey you should know

That I could never go on without you

Green eyes

Honey you are the sea

Upon which I float

And I came here to talk

I think you should know

Camila looks up and allows her eyes to roam the crowded bar. Her breath hitches when she sees a pair of green eyes staring back at her. She allows her mind to drift for a second as she wonders if her writing about green eyes and her fascination with green eyes stemmed from Lauren, from her past with the girl. No, she couldn’t remember the brunette who is currently watching her from across the bar, but maybe those green-eyes had such a huge impact on her that no man could beat the memories of them out of her head, no matter how hard they tried.

That green eyes

You’re the one that I wanted to find

And anyone who tried to deny you

Must be out of their mind

Because I came here with a load

And it feels so much lighter

Since I met you

And honey you should know

That I could never go on without you

Green eyes

Honey you are the rock

Upon which I stand

As the song ends, Lauren wonders if Camila wrote that song before or after she came back into town. And once again, Lauren hopes the latter.

She breaks from her thoughts when she notices Camila walking her way. As soon as she makes it over to her, she immediately points to the beer in Lauren’s hand.

“Angry Orchard. I never really considered it a real beer. Too sweet.” She states casually, completely unaware of the butterflies that she just released into Lauren’s stomach. The green-eyed girl clears her throat and smiles fondly at the musician,

“We used to have endless arguments about that. Playful arguments of course.” She chuckles as she sets the 'fake beer’ back down. Before Camila can respond, a body collides with the table behind Lauren, effectively knocking it and all of it’s contents over. This startles both of the girls and Lauren turns to watch as another man crouches down next to the man laying on the floor and quickly grabs a fistful of his shirt to bring him to a sitting position. When he does, he collides his fist with the man’s jaw. After the third punch is thrown and one of the bartenders finally pries the man off of the bleeding man on the floor, Lauren turns back around to see Camila’s reaction.

She curses herself when the brunette is no longer beside her. Of course something like this would set off a panic attack within the fragile brunette. Lauren frantically turns back to the bar and locks eyes with the bartender from earlier. He points to the back door, understanding the silent question that Lauren’s asking him with her eyes. She immediately takes off to the back door and swings it open. Her heart breaks when she sees Camila curled up in a ball with her back against the brick wall of the bar.

Lauren slowly steps forward, Camila’s sobs becoming more apparent the closer she gets to her. The green-eyed girl slowly crouches down in front of the brunette, careful not to startle her.

“Camz.” She whispers. The younger girl slowly raises her head and locks eyes with Lauren’s sympathetic ones. Her breathing is still ragged and her eyes are wide. Lauren reaches her right hand up and places it on Camila’s tear stained cheek. “Slow breaths, babe.” Lauren slows down her own breathing in attempt to get Camila to follow her lead.

Lauren watches as she struggles to slow it down, but after about a minute of the green-eyed girl coaching her, Camila’s breathing finally returns to normal and her tears subside. The older brunette slowly brings her left hand up and when it comes to rest on Camila’s other cheek, she uses both of her thumbs to wipe tears away.

“You’re safe. You’re okay.” Lauren cooes. Camila nods and offers Lauren a small, grateful smile. The older girl stands up and for the second time today, she offers Camila her hand to take. The brunette accepts and allows Lauren to pull her to her feet. The green-eyed girl’s hand reflexively lands on Camila’s lower back as she is leading them both back into the bar.

Once they return to their previous spot, Lauren notices a familiar brunette boy sitting on the bar stool. Camila stops in her tracks and Lauren feels the girl tense up. The older brunette drops her hand to her side and protectively takes a small step in front of Camila just as Austin turns to face them.

“What’s wrong with you?” Austin asks as he takes in Camila’s disheveled appearance.

Camila looks down at her feet. “I had another uh panic attack.” She mumbles.

“Seriously? It’s been a year, Camilla. I can’t believe you are still having those.” Austin rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his beer. Lauren has to restrain herself from beating this Oompa Loompa to a pulp. The only thing stopping her is her wife’s well-being. Camila comes first. She always has.

“Yeah I know. I’m sorry, Austin.” She whispers as she takes another step to stand closer to him. Lauren wants nothing more than to just pull Camila away from him and tell her a million times over that she has nothing to be sorry for. She wants to drive her away from here, from him. Unfortunately, she has to just stand there because that’s all she can do. Right now, anyway.

“It’s okay. I just wanted you to be in a semi good mood tonight when we bang, but I guess that’s out of the question, huh?” He chuckles bitterly as he downs the rest of his beer and stands to his feet. Camila just stands there, her eyes trained on the floor beneath her. The shame and embarrassment she feels rendering her completely speechless.

Lauren’s stomach comes up in her throat as she clenches her fists tightly. She feels blood trickling from her palms, but the pain she feels in her chest far outweighs the pain she is unconsciously inflicting upon herself.

Austin slaps a five dollar bill on the counter and grabs Camila’s forearm. Lauren’s eyes narrow in on the grip and she realizes that he is gripping her on the exact part of her arm that Lauren inspected yesterday. The same part that is discolored from the previous times that he has forcefully grabbed her.

Camila shrugs him off. “I uh had plans with Lauren tonight. We were going to grab food after my set.” She trains her eyes on Lauren, pleading for her to follow along.

“Yeah that’s not happening. C'mon.” He jerks her again.

“She said she has other plans.” Lauren speaks up and steps forward, her shoulder lightly brushing Camila’s.

“Do you have a problem.” Austin steps forward and gets in Lauren’s face. “You need to butt out of my relationship.”

Camila’s heart races when she thinks about Austin hurting Lauren. He has a temper and she doesn’t want the whole bar to see it. Especially Lauren. She doesn’t want her to see it or feel the repercussions of it. So she does what she has to do. Even though its not necessarily what she wants to do.

“Austin.” She places her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go with you. Just calm down.”

Lauren’s eyes flicker from Austin to Camila, silently pleading for her not to go with him. Camila looks away from the green eyes because she knows if she looks in them a second longer that they will convince her to stay.

“Maybe we can go get lunch another time.” Camila offers Lauren a small smile. The younger brunette just hopes it looks more reassuring than it feels. Lauren just nods and runs her fingers through her hair. “I’ll be seeing ya, Lauren.” The younger girl finally surrenders to Austin and lets him take her away from the green eyes that are still pleading for her to stay. The green eyes that she could write a million songs about.

_________________________________________________________________________

Song: “Green Eyes” By. Coldplay

#UPDATE #series #non AU #slash #camren #angst drama #romance fluff #submission #come back be here

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shirlleycoyle · 4 years

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‘You Couldn’t Swipe Fast Enough’: How the Pandemic Devastated Instacart Workers

This article appears in VICE Magazine's Algorithms issue, which investigates the rules that govern our society, and what happens when they're broken.

In 2019, Lisa, a single mother, lost her job as the media relations director at a firm in Nashville, Tennessee, moved south to her hometown Jacksonville, Florida, and signed up to deliver groceries for Instacart.

With the $1,000 she earned each week shuttling groceries from supermarkets to her clients, she could make payments on her $2,300 a month mortgage, and car and utility bills, with enough left over to order novels from Amazon and household gadgets from QVC.

The arrival of COVID-19 pandemic in Florida changed all of that. In May, Lisa’s weekly earnings hurtled downward from $1000 to $500 to $90 (recovering partially in June and July). She spent her days glued to her phone, refreshing the Instacart app for hours. Each time a new batch, or set of delivery orders, would flash on her phone screen, someone else in her area would snatch them up in a matter of seconds, often before she had time to react.

The pandemic had prompted more households than ever before to sign up for Instacart’s grocery delivery service, making it profitable for the first time since its founding in 2012, but Lisa—a pseudonym, so she could speak candidly about her working conditions—was barely scraping by, and had picked up a second part time job at a local Publix grocery store to make ends meet.

“I had to be refreshing my phone all the time, sometimes waiting for three hours that I wasn’t getting paid [for], before I got a good order,” she told Motherboard. “You have to be attached to your phone. I couldn’t do anything else.”

In late April, the San Francisco-based start-up announced it had hired 300,000 new gig workers to meet rising demand for grocery delivery during the first two months of the pandemic, and had plans to bring on an additional 200,000 workers. The hiring boom in on-demand grocery delivery across the country wasn't limited to Instacart. The Target-owned delivery platform, Shipt, hired tens of thousands of shoppers during the pandemic. As of early August, the delivery service Amazon Flex was actively recruiting in 17 cities. Almost overnight, hundreds of thousands of laid off or underemployed Americans had transformed into grocery delivery gig workers.

But the demand for groceries didn’t keep pace with the number of Americans flocking to grocery and food delivery apps for available work, and workers found themselves competing against each other while refreshing their phones into oblivion. If heartwarming stories of mutual aid, where communities have banded together to care for, shelter, and feed one another during the pandemic have shown the power of solidarity in the absence of a strong social safety net, then the hundreds of thousands of desperate Americans gravitating towards gig work, and competing under and against a regularly shifting algorithm for an elusive supply of grocery delivery orders, paint a less inspiring picture.

A spokesperson for Instacart told Motherboard that shopper earnings have actually increased from their pre-pandemic levels, based on customer and shopper marketplace data. "In the wake of COVID-19, shopper earnings have increased by as much as 60% and shopper NPS – a measure of shopper happiness and overall sentiment – is at the highest level in company history," the spokesperson said.

"To further support this community, our team has introduced new recognition programs, product features, shopper perks, and resources to enhance the shopper experience," they continued. "We’ll continue to invest in this important community as we focus on delivering the best possible experience for all shoppers across North America.”

In early 2020, Lisa ranked near the top of 390 Instacart shoppers in the Jacksonville Beaches metro area, a sprawling island community to the north of Florida’s largest city. But during the pandemic, she says the app had hired an additional 900 shoppers in her area.

Adding to her difficulties, in March, Instacart had suspended its algorithmic ranking system, which rewards gig workers with the highest customer ratings by offering them the most lucrative orders first. The company explained in an announcement that, due to the “national state of emergency, all ratings below 5 stars” would be “forgiven.” (As of July, Instacart had reinstated the ranking system.) For veteran Instacart workers like Lisa, who had worked hard to achieve near-perfect ratings over hundreds of orders, this meant drastically lower earnings. As another Instacart shopper explained to me, the difference between a perfect 5 star average rating and a 4.97 star average rating can mean everything for access to the most lucrative orders under normal circumstances.

At the same time, in Instacart forums on Facebook, rumors circulated widely that the decline of work was primarily linked to the rise of third-party bots which snatched up orders quicker than a human could, and sold them to shoppers willing to pay a high price to game the system.

“When coronavirus got bad here in May, third-party bots popped up. We ran into them at stores. You could tell who they were because they didn’t know the layout of the stores. One guy bragged about it to me in an Aldi grocery store. He was a bot,” Lisa said. (Shoppers often refer to other shoppers who pay for automated tools as “bots.”)

Some of the rumors were blatantly racist, accusing undocumented shoppers of using the bots to game the system. Motherboard viewed posts on Instacart Facebook groups that linked the bots to rings of non-English-speaking, Latinx immigrants who shopped in large groups.

Multiple opportunists had developed bots that gave gig workers who paid, in some cases, thousands of dollars, the advantage of being able to scoop up orders faster than those who didn’t. But skeptical Instacart shoppers say the bots were mostly scams, the rumors were racist, and bots were not responsible for a significant portion of competition for orders—Instacart’s massive hiring spree was.

“Bot services have existed for Instacart for nearly two years, but bots have never been nearly as popular or common as many shoppers believe they are,” Heidi Carrico, an Instacart shopper and organizer with Gig Workers Collective, said. “The true problem is that Instacart hired 500,000 new Shoppers, while demand and order volume has declined from its peak at the beginning of the pandemic, creating a dynamic of fierce competition for orders.”

Instacart has claimed that the bots violate the companies’ trademarks and terms of service, and sent cease-and-desist letters to third-parties. In late July, Instacart sent out an email informing shoppers that it has partnered with a security platform “to develop a bot bounty program, specifically built to combat bots on the Instacart platform,” and promised to deactivate any shoppers who used third-party apps.

Veteran Instacart shoppers have noted that the pandemic is not the first time they’ve dealt with saturated markets and times when it’s difficult to get orders. Most years, usually in the fall, for reasons not entirely clear, orders slow down, competition rises, and Instacart slashes pay, prompting some contingent of shoppers to quit working on the app.

“Things have started to get better,” Lisa told Motherboard in July. “It’s a combo effect. The bots are being handled and slowly but surely the oversaturation is starting to come down. All of these people who signed up to delivery groceries thought it was easy. Now we’re back to our rating system and that’s how we get batches.”

Though gig workers that Motherboard spoke to said their earnings recovered partially in June and July, suggesting that some of the new hires quit working on Instacart once restaurants and retail stores reopened, longtime workers say the number of shoppers are still above pre-pandemic levels and wages remain down.

Bill, an Instacart shopper in Houston, originally started working on the app nearly two years ago to supplement his income (he previously owned a food truck), and was finding it hard to quit gig work, until the pandemic hit and helped him with the decision.

“I was making $700 to $800 a week, then things just went bonkers. The orders were coming in so fast, you couldn’t swipe fast enough. I don’t know how a human can react that fast. Suddenly I was making $60 a week,” Bill said. “I was a mess. It used to be like anything else: ‘Doing this sucks but I know I can get batches, and I know I can make at least $500.’ All of the sudden it just disappears. Your income just goes. It’s very stressful.”

While many gig workers who provide services that involve close human interaction (such as Uber and Lyft drivers, TaskRabbit workers who enter client’s homes, and Wag and Rover dog walkers) have seen their income plunge, as the New York Times recently reported, on-demand grocery delivery and food-delivery apps have boomed, making record profits. Experts say that though the influx of grocery delivery workers will likely fall as businesses reopen, many workers who sign up for gig economy apps as a temporary job end up staying much longer than they had planned, either because they can’t find more lucrative job opportunities or because making income on the app consumes so much time and leaves few hours of the day for job hunting.

“You notice people of all walks of life are out of work doing Instacart,” said Bill. “People who work in hospitality, restaurants, bars, and I don’t begrudge them. Everybody’s just trying to do the best for themselves. What sucks most is that it’s taken any hope of making money.”

During past economic crises laid off and unemployed workers have always gravitated to less secure forms of work—hustling to string jobs together. In fact, the emergence of platform gig economy companies grew out of the 2008 recession, a period of high unemployment and slow job growth. Gig economy start-ups Uber, Instacart, TaskRabbit, Lyft, Postmates, DoorDash, and Caviar were all founded in the span of four years, between 2008 and 2012.

“Gig work is often marketed as a solution to unemployment, or economic downturn. A lot of these gig economy jobs have low barriers to entry,” said Alexandrea Ravanelle, a professor of Sociology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill who is leading a National Sciences Foundation-funded study on the impact of COVID-19 on gig workers. “During COVID-19, we’ve seen an influx of people turning to gig work as a social safety occupation of last resort.”

The companies marketed themselves as technological innovations that created millions of new jobs and allowed workers the opportunity and flexibility to pick their own hours and schedules free from the scrutiny of a boss. But the catch was that gig workers, as independent contractors, did not receive any of the typical benefits such as minimum wage guarantees, health insurance, overtime pay, and paid sick leave offered to employees.

Thus, critics of Uber and Instacart charge that their main contribution has been the creation of precarious, low-wage, dead-end jobs that offer no guarantee of job security or income—an unfortunate reality Instacart workers who’ve seen their earnings diminish overnight learned during the pandemic.

Marvin, a shopper who lives outside Huntsville, Alabama, took up Instacart in April 2019, for supplemental income. When he lost his job as a flight attendant last fall, it became a full time gig.

Marvin also saw his wages steadily decline during the pandemic. He was forced to dip into his savings, often spending 10 hours-day waiting in parking lots “listening to every song in the world” and refreshing his phone until orders came in. “No, I don’t enjoy sitting in my car for that long,” he told Motherboard. “I survived on a lot of Spam.”

At the same time, the number of Instacart shoppers in his metro area tripled from 40 to 120. (We know this because Instacart posts the number of active shoppers in each metro area on its app by rank.) “A lot of waitresses, waiters, teachers, housewives, and exotic dancers came out of the woodwork,” said Marvin, who has befriended many shoppers in the area.

Marvin, who is 28, says he cuts out the unpaid time he spends waiting by juggling Instacart work with less lucrative orders on DoorDash in his area, usually at fast food restaurants, which often pay less than $10. The goal is never to earn less than he spends on gas and the costs of maintaining his car.

On a day in late July, Marvin logged his order for Motherboard; he visited Kroger three times with trips interspersed to McDonald’s, Arby’s, and Chick-Fil-A, earning $99.33 in six hours, and sometimes traveling up to 17 miles to make a delivery.

“I try to fit in one or two DoorDash orders for every Instacart order. It doesn’t always work out that way but that’s what I try to do not to have any idle time,” Marvin said. “I’ll often pick up $5 orders from Taco Bell or McDonalds.”

For Instacart and other gig workers, learning to identify lucrative orders takes time and practice. Workers told Motherboard they tend to gravitate to the stores with layouts they know best, customers who’ve tipped and rated well in the past.

“Our ranking [and ability to get good orders] depends on what the customer rates. It’s solely up to them,” Lisa, the Instacart shopper in Florida, said. “We’re at their mercy. If they don’t like how something was bagged, they could give us a four. I had one lady say, 'I never give out a five star rating.' I don’t want to be dinged for that.”

Workers prefer orders with shorter distances, tending to avoid apartment buildings with long flights of stairs. Similarly, accepting orders with multiple repeat items from different customers like frozen pizzas, cat food, or bananas is easier than traversing back and forth in search of obscure products.

“At first it was taking me four minutes per item at my local Sprouts supermarket. Now it takes 30 seconds,” said Bill, the Instacart shopper in Houston. “You learn quickly that you make more money the faster you can complete an order.”

Now that Instacart has reinstated its ranking system, veteran shoppers say they hope to see their earnings increase, as they’re awarded more lucrative orders, while shoppers hired during the pandemic have to undergo the learning curve that they once did. Experts say that it’s difficult to know at this point how the surge of workers competing for gigs on food and grocery delivery apps will last; due to poor reporting systems, there aren’t reliable statistics on gig workers.

“The Great Recession brought about an economic contraction and lots of people took up gig work. It was hard for people to get back into jobs they once were in,” Ravanelle, the sociologist at UNC Chapel Hill said. “We’ll probably see something similar in terms of COVID. We’ll feel this for a very long time.”

Follow Lauren Gurley on Twitter.

‘You Couldn’t Swipe Fast Enough’: How the Pandemic Devastated Instacart Workers syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

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