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beneviento-trash · 2 years

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Here is some info about Claudia Beneviento and the OCs in my fic (it got kinda long and I tried to keep it vague but whatevs):

Claudia Bernadette Beneviento:

Born April 1st, 1994 at the Beneviento Manor in Romania. 18 at the start. (yeah, I messed with her age to make it work with my story idea)

Only daughter of Donna Beneviento and Lucas La Fontaine.

Father was a powerful magician.

Goes by the name Ripley Towers when pretending to be a maid/grounds keeper for Donna, so Miranda does not figure out who she is.

Miranda’s perfect vessel.

Was experimented on by Miranda shortly after her birth, after she found the perfect cadou ratio. Yet, believes she failed when Claudia “died” an hour after being returned to Donna, due to Sophie getting her drink the draft she made.

Alcina, Karl, Sal, and Sophie staged her death, tricking both Donna and Miranda. Was taken to America by The Duke.

Was adopted by Margaret “Maggie” Towers in Missoula, Montana.

Stands at 5′0

Blue eyes

black hair

pale skin

Left-handed

AroAce

Speaks English and soon Romanian and Italian.

Prefers jeans, band shirt, hoodie, and red converse

Fears small spaces and drinks not made by herself or her moms. Same with her meals

Soft-spoken, silly, and kind-hearted.

Struggles with depression that resulted from being homeschooled due to her abilities, which worsened when she learned the truth about who she was. Mother Miranda’s looming presence over the village and the danger she presents, only added to this.

Enjoys metal music, gardening, chocolate donuts, and strawberry milk.

Hates cold weather, meatloaf, sour foods, and shitty people.

OP as fuck. (cuz why the fuck not) Abilities are:

Memory sharing and mental connections.

Life-giving (such as flowers, Donna’s dolls, and those who pass (stipulation is they only could have been dead for 1 hr at most or she has to have a living sacrifice to transfer their life force)

Life drain (can kill someone or something if she wishes it but has to be touching them).

Power Mimicry (has to maintain eye contact or create a mental bind with them.

Has a natural bond with the Metamcyte, able to see the network of those who are uploaded to the hivemind. This is how she learned Italian and Romanian so quickly, without realizing it.

And while immortal, if her vessel is badly damaged she can be reborn (comes in handy later). This is largely her weakness, taking too much damage can cause her to be forced to start her life over.

Eyes glow white when using abilities.

Her magic and cadou have an extremely symbiotic relationship.

Face Claim: Claire Foy as Lisbeth Salander

Song for this character: https://youtu.be/vOXZkm9p_zY

Sophie Victoria Ramirez:

Born January 25th, 1850 in Mexico City, Mexico. Age is 162(besties I’m still looking into maps of Mexico from this period, if this is incorrect, please let me know)

Parents are Luis and Isabel Ramirez. Were very skilled in potions and elemental magic.

One older brother, Angel (3 years older), and one younger sister, Elena (six years younger).

Was a very skilled witch since birth, having a recessive ability known as Semi-Immortality. She became locked at the age of 33. This is a form of longevity but not complete immortality. She can be killed with magical items or by someone strong enough and smart enough to know where her weak point is. Between her shoulder blades is a seal of longevity, specifically a crane, if this is removed or badly damaged, this can be deadly.

This ability was not given to her parents or siblings who died of viral influenza when she was just 17. She learned that her family’s medical drafts were tainted with poison making them useless.

At 18 she decided to leave Mexico. She spent her time harnessing and learning her abilities and eventually found her way to being an apprentice to a Potion’s Master by the name of Helga Arzt in Bavaria. Helga took her in and trained her very well until she passed away of old age. Sophie was 35 when she passed.

She stayed in Bavaria, overtaking Helga’s potion-making and helping others who asked.

She was contacted by Alcina Dimitrescu in 1957 in regard to helping her with her blood disease. Sophie then agreed to leave Bavaria to help the Countess.

Alcina and Sophie became close, eventually romantic. When Sophie had no success with managing Alcina’s blood disease, she voiced her concern about Mother Miranda’s “gift” but did not stop her from taking it.

Sophie stuck by Alcina’s transformation, finding a better alternative than drinking the village dry. She created an elixir mixed with her own blood that keeps Alcina full for a year at a time.

Welcomed Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela as her own and gave them the same elixir, which worked. She also uses her elemental ability to keep the girls warm during winter.

5′3

Shoulder length brown hair

Brown eyes.

Scar is from Alcina’s claws extended during her transformation, which had been an accident.

Lesbian

Right-handed

Speaks Spanish, German, Romanian, and English.

Wears pantsuits or blouses and dress pants. Dresses if there’s a party of some kind.

Due to the losses in her life, Sophie is a bit closed off but not cruel. She fears for her family’s safety.

Has a fear of failing others and constantly puts herself down, because of not being able to save her parents and siblings, believing she gave them the poisoned medical drafts. Fears that Donna will never forgive her but does not hold it against her. And that Claudia may hate her.

She is a vocal woman when she disagrees. This is revealed when Alcina explains that Sophie at first refused to give Claudia that draft as a newborn and was racked with guilt over the lie she kept up to Donna for almost 19 years.

Worst memory in her mind was not only her families death but Donna’s heartbreaking cries over Claudia and her hand in it.

Manages to brew a draft to obscure some of Claudia’s features from Miranda. (This makes Miranda believe that Claudia’s eyes are brown and that she blonde hair instead of black)

Enjoys classical music but eventually warms up to classic rock due to Claudia’s insistence. Loves chocolate cake, coffee with three creams, two sugars, and chamomile tea.

Dislikes Mother Miranda, being used to do horrid things, being powerless to change their situation and the thought of being alone.

Face claim: Lana Parrilla as Regina Mills

Song for this character: https://youtu.be/JKQwgpaLR6o

Margaret “Maggie” Elizabeth Towers:

Born December 25th, 1968 in Missoula, Montana.

Parents are David and Janet Towers.

One younger sister, Tiffany, was born in 1974.

Adoptive mother to Claudia Beneviento.

Aunt to Kevin and Michael Jameson.

Parents were medical and protection-oriented magicians. Able to heal with a touch, a word, a smile, or a kiss. Along with strong Warding abilities. This is why Duke only wanted Maggie to adopt Claudia.

Maggie followed in their footsteps, continuing the family legacy as a doctor.

Much like Sophie, she had an inherited ability known as Transparent Vision. She is able to find both Donna and Angie while Claudia is playing hide and seek. She is also able to see through Miranda’s disguises. She can also see through anything obscuring someone’s face, and through clothing in general if it’s a medical emergency. The eyes have to be damaged to nullify this ability, or she has to be knocked unconscious.

She graduated medical school rather quickly due to her natural talent and her gifts, she was 25.

At 26, she was approached by The Duke, who asked her to adopt Claudia. Upon holding Claudia, she felt a maternal bond, and once she felt her warding abilities cloaked her. She said yes and took her home.

Raised Claudia as her own but was shocked at the girl’s abilities. She believed her to be from a very powerful magical family. She was half right.

Maggie was shocked and very angry when she realized that Claudia was taken from her birth mother. This made it easy for her to say “Yes” about going to Romania, not wanting to keep her daughter away from Donna.

She was a bit hesitant after Donna’s letter but kept her word.

Was not put off by Donna’s mourning garb nor her mutation, not telling the poor dollmaker that she could see through the veil.

Was, however, put off by Angie due to a rude wake-up call/introduction but warmed up to her.

The first time she meets Alcina, she practically just gawks at her height and is immediately curious about her dragon form when Claudia mentions it. She and Alcina become besties after she tells Heisenberg to “Shut his fucking hole”.

I imagine this gif as Maggie’s reaction to Alcina.

It takes time to warm up to Sophie, Moreau, and Heisenberg.

Maggie develops a crush on Donna rather slowly. Mostly because of her kindness and hardworking nature.

Stands at 6′4 (yeah, yeah, Kim Rhodes is not that tall, sue me.)

Short greying brown hair

Brown eyes

Ambidextrous

Gay as all hell

Wears jeans, tennis shoes, and a zip-up hoodie.

Enjoys black coffee with blueberry syrup, Frosted Flakes, and Italian food. Also enjoys using her magic to help Donna around the house.

Not big on the taste of pickles and yams, loathes cranberry sauce and super sweet drinks.

Can make a mean roast and chili.

Pretty damn handy around the home, much to Donna’s surprise

Fears for her daughter’s safety and losing her. Fears not being able to help others with her healing abilities. Fears that Donna may not like her the same way she does.

Would body slam Miranda into next year if she could.

Face claim: Kim Rhodes as Jody Mills.

Song for this character: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RzhAS_GnJIc

#claudia beneviento #donna beneviento #oc #fanfic #alcina dimitrescu #this took for-fucking-ever #have fun #i'm going to bed #will add claudia's dad to another post besties

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onestowatch · 4 years

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Turbo’s “Heart Stop” Is Proving Country/Hip-Hop Is More Than a Passing Fad [Q&A]

Photos: Joseph Morrison

In a space defined by viral, meme-worthy tracks like Lil Nas X’s “Old Town Road” and RMR’s “RASCAL,” enters Calgary-born artist and producer Turbo. The country/hip-hop crossover artist and his latest single “Heart Stop” combines traditional rap beats with acoustic guitar and catchy lines like “you wanna party with a rock star?” The song is confident and honest, honoring the defining features of each genre without the exaggeration typically seen in other crossover tracks.

The son of a prominent bluegrass guitarist, Turbo grew up with country music but also drew inspiration from unlikely sources. Drawn to rap and hardstyle at an early age, he cites Avicii’s “LE7ELS” as the reason why he began producing.

After quitting music for years, he ultimately came back to it after high school and became obsessed with production, perfecting his skills. Eventually, this persistence led him to the creation of “Heart Stop,” released via 10K Projects / Homemade Projects / Internet Money Records.

Ones to Watch got to ask the rising artist about his father’s influence, taking his friend to the hospital during the making of “Heart Stop,” and his thoughts on country/rap crossovers.

Ones To Watch: You grew up the son of a famous bluegrass musician. How has your father's career in music influenced your own? Has he given any good advice?

Turbo: My father’s talent has always been a huge inspiration. He’s also very wise and gives good advice for the decisions I’ve been making here. Bluegrass is a very unique form of country music. It’s almost an acquired taste, once you appreciate the skills of a bluegrass musician, you can’t get enough of it. I’ve always admired my Dad’s confidence and presence when he’s on stage shredding brass and singin’.

You started producing at a young age, but you stopped working on it for a few years until you turned 18. Why did you take such a long period off, and what was the turning point for you that made you want to commit yourself to music again?

I set aside my creativity around the age of 12 and became enveloped in trying to make friends at school and fit in with certain groups. I can’t remember a time where I felt secure/safe in school. My grades were awful. I was both bullied and the bully at times. I eventually got sick of trying to fit in and just went with the flow and by high school I made an amazing group of friends that actually supports me and trusts me, and I would die for them.

Like I said, my grades were bad, so I didn’t get into university after high school. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life, I just wanted to go to school with my friends, wherever that be. I enrolled in online courses at a learning centre to upgrade. That ended up being a disaster… At the end of the first semester, I was jumped in the school parking lot by group of idiots. I dropped out because I refused to go back to the school itself, and the school never transferred my grades online.... rubbish. My parents felt a lot of concern for me, so they let me hunker down and take time off school. I got a job at a liquor store.

It wasn’t long before I picked up old hobbies, including producing music. I remember I would lay on my bed after all of this happened, listening to the new music that was coming out, becoming obsessed again, sparking a vision. I pretty much spent 100% of my free time producing music after that. Every day it slowly pieced itself together, I had no idea I’d make it this far.

Your music has both hip-hop and country influences which, before the days of "Old Town Road," was practically unheard of. Did you ever expect this kind of crossover to become mainstream, and why do you think people are finding hip-hop and country crossovers so appealing?

In the 21st century, there’s heaps of music, let alone genres. People don’t tend to listen to one genre. As a matter of fact, people will just name the genre they don’t like instead. Musicians are like this too. Music inspires music, so I think country-hip-hop was inevitable. I tried to be the first big artist, but Lil Tracy x Lil Uzi beat me there. Then Lil Nas X came shortly after. I believe that meme culture is the gateway for this genre. It’s not being taken too seriously. That’s the fun in it. Just let go and get hillbilly and be open minded. My mission, though, is to show people that this is the start of something enormous, not a temporary trend.

How did your debut single, "Heart Stop," come together?

I made “Heart Stop” with Alec Wigdahl, Cody (CXDY), Henry (Pharaoh Vice), Edgard Herrera, Taz Taylor and myself. Right away I went in the studio with a large group of Internet Money producers and the mission was to create brand new music on the spot. Nothing came out of me. It wasn’t looking good for Turbo.

The session came to an abrupt stop when Taz suddenly got rushed to the hospital because he wasn’t feeling well. A few hours later we found out Taz was doing okay, so we got back to work. The vibes were now really strange, aside from my nervousness. We sat back down in the studio and started from scratch again. I wanted guitar, so the famous, Alec Wigdahl, laid it down, and then Cody, Henry, and Tanner laid down the beat.

I was freestyling a bit but couldn’t come up with much, so Alec stuck around and wrote the chorus with me. I started with, “You wanna party with a rockstar?” Alec rhymed it with “I’m not afraid to make your Heart Stop,” and we just looked at each other and smiled because it was such a fit for the night that just went down. I wrote the verse myself, Edgard engineered it, and the next day Taz woke up in the hospital bumping that shit. I’ll never forget that feeling.

You are quoted saying "the best songs come from me sitting in a room alone and just taking my time." What part of song creation do you love most?

My favorite part is writing hooks. I know how to make something stick in your head. There’s no formula, I usually just imagine a crowd at a concert or party singing the lyrics. I like to be alone because when people are in the room, it feels as though you have to perform for them, which may not be 100% genuine. Although collaboration does go a long way and Alec was the first person I made a song with, and it went great. Most of my songs on my new project were written when I was alone.

What is a typical day in quarantine for you?

Typical day of quarantine contains waking up around 2pm, making a cup of coffee while FaceTiming my manager Niall, playing guitar for at least an hour, then I hit the Xbox with the fellas. The past few weeks has been busy with my music video and song release. No time for toys, boy’s gotta work. I haven’t worked on too much new music since quarantine because I’m stuck at home... I’m ready to get back in the studio soon.

Who are your Ones to Watch?

My Ones to Watch are currently Alec Wigdahl, lil spirit, Ty Fontaine, Moe Young. I know these are people beside me, but this roster is honestly unmatched. Taz Taylor has the next generation under his wing, and it’s a matter of time before we take over.

Listen to “Heart Stop” below:

#turbo #heart stop #interview #country #hip hop #rap

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thefortyeightlawsofpower-blog · 7 years

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LAW # 32 : PLAY TO PEOPLE’S FANTASIES

JUDGEMENT

The truth is often avoided because it is ugly and unpleasant. Never appeal to truth and reality unless you are prepared for the anger that comes from disenchantment. Life is so harsh and distressing that people who can manufacture romance or conjure up fantasy are like oases in the desert: Everyone flocks to them. There is great power in tapping into the fantasies of the masses.

THE FUNERAL OF THE LIONESS

The lion having suddenly lost his queen, every one hastened to show allegiance to the monarch, by offering consolation. These compliments, alas, served but to increase the widower’s affliction. Due notice was given throughout the kingdom that the funeral would be performed at a certain time and place; the lion’s officers were ordered to be in attendance, to regulate the ceremony, and place the company according to their respective rank. One may well judge no one absented himself. The monarch gave way to his grief, and the whole cave, lions having no other temples, resounded with his cries. After his example, all the courtiers roared in their different tones. A court is the sort of place where everyone is either sorrowful, gay, or indifferent to everything, just as the reigning prince may think fit; or if any one is not actually, he at least tries to appear so; each endeavors to mimic the master. It is truly said that one mind animates a thousand bodies, clearly showing that human beings are mere machines. But let us return to our subject. The stag alone shed no tears. How could he, forsooth? The death of the queen avenged him; she had formerly strangled his wife and son. A courtier thought fit to inform the bereaved monarch, and even affirmed that he had seen the stag laugh. The rage of a king, says Solomon, is terrible, and especially that of a lion-king. “Pitiful forester!” he exclaimed, “darest thou laugh when all around are dissolved in tears? We will not soil our royal claws with thy profane blood! Do thou, brave wolf, avenge our queen, by immolating this traitor to her august manes. ”

Hereupon the stag replied: “Sire, the time for weeping is passed; grief is here superfluous. Your revered spouse appeared to me but now, reposing on a bed of roses; I instantly recognized her. ‘Friend,’ said she to me, ‘have done with this funereal pomp, cease these useless tears. I have tasted a thousand delights in the Elysian fields, conversing with those who are saints like myself. Let the king’s despair remain for some time unchecked, it gratifies me.’” Scarcely had he spoken, when every one shouted: “A miracle! a miracle!” The stag, instead of being punished, received a handsome gift. Do but entertain a king with dreams, flatter him, and tell him a few pleasant fantastic lies: whatever his indignation against you may be, he will swallow the bait, and make you his dearest friend.

FABLES, JEAN DE LA FONTAINE, 1621-1695

OBSERVANCE OF THE LAW

The city-state of Venice was prosperous for so long that its citizens felt their small republic had destiny on its side. In the Middle Ages and High Renaissance, its virtual monopoly on trade to the east made it the wealthiest city in Europe. Under a beneficent republican government, Venetians enjoyed liberties that few other Italians had ever known. Yet in the sixteenth century their fortunes suddenly changed. The opening of the New World transferred power to the Atlantic side of Europe—to the Spanish and Portuguese, and later the Dutch and English. Venice could not compete economically and its empire gradually dwindled. The final blow was the devastating loss of a prized Mediterranean possession, the island of Cyprus, captured from Venice by the Turks in 1570.

Now noble families went broke in Venice, and banks began to fold. A kind of gloom and depression settled over the citizens. They had known a glittering past—had either lived through it or heard stories about it from their elders. The closeness of the glory years was humiliating. The Venetians half believed that the goddess Fortune was only playing a joke on them, and that the old days would soon return. For the time being, though, what could they do?

In 1589 rumors began to swirl around Venice of the arrival not far away of a mysterious man called “Il Bragadino,” a master of alchemy, a man who had won incredible wealth through his ability, it was said, to multiply gold through the use of a secret substance. The rumor spread quickly because a few years earlier, a Venetian nobleman passing through Poland had heard a learned man prophesy that Venice would recover her past glory and power if she could find a man who understood the alchemic art of manufacturing gold. And so, as word reached Venice of the gold this Bragadino possessed—he clinked gold coins continuously in his hands, and golden objects filled his palace—some began to dream: Through him, their city would prosper again.

Members of Venice’s most important noble families accordingly went together to Brescia, where Bragadino lived. They toured his palace and watched in awe as he demonstrated his gold-making abilities, taking a pinch of seemingly worthless minerals and transforming it into several ounces of gold dust. The Venetian senate prepared to debate the idea of extending an official invitation to Bragadino to stay in Venice at the city’s expense, when word suddenly reached them that they were competing with the Duke of Mantua for his services. They heard of a magnificent party in Bragadino’s palace for the duke, featuring garments with golden buttons, gold watches, gold plates, and on and on. Worried they might lose Bragadino to Mantua, the senate voted almost unanimously to invite him to Venice, promising him the mountain of money he would need to continue living in his luxurious style—but only if he came right away.

Late that year the mysterious Bragadino arrived in Venice. With his piercing dark eyes under thick brows, and the two enormous black mastiffs that accompanied him everywhere, he was forbidding and impressive. He took up residence in a sumptuous palace on the island of the Giudecca, with the republic funding his banquets, his expensive clothes, and all his other whims. A kind of alchemy fever spread through Venice. On street corners, hawkers would sell coal, distilling apparatus, bellows, how-to books on the subject. Everyone began to practice alchemy—everyone except Bragadino.

The alchemist seemed to be in no hurry to begin manufacturing the gold that would save Venice from ruin. Strangely enough this only increased his popularity and following; people thronged from all over Europe, even Asia, to meet this remarkable man. Months went by, with gifts pouring in to Bragadino from all sides. Still he gave no sign of the miracle that the Venetians confidently expected him to produce. Eventually the citizens began to grow impatient, wondering if he would wait forever. At first the senators warned them not to hurry him—he was a capricious devil, who needed to be cajoled. Finally, though, the nobility began to wonder too, and the senate came under pressure to show a return on the city’s ballooning investment.

Bragadino had only scorn for the doubters, but he responded to them. He had, he said, already deposited in the city’s mint the mysterious substance with which he multiplied gold. He could use this substance up all at once, and produce double the gold, but the more slowly the process took place, the more it would yield. If left alone for seven years, sealed in a casket, the substance would multiply the gold in the mint thirty times over. Most of the senators agreed to wait to reap the gold mine Bragadino promised. Others, however, were angry: seven more years of this man living royally at the public trough! And many of the common citizens of Venice echoed these sentiments. Finally the alchemist’s enemies demanded he produce a proof of his skills: a substantial amount of gold, and soon.

Lofty, apparently devoted to his art, Bragadino responded that Venice, in its impatience, had betrayed him, and would therefore lose his services. He left town, going first to nearby Padua, then, in 1590, to Munich, at the invitation of the Duke of Bavaria, who, like the entire city of Venice, had known great wealth but had fallen into bankruptcy through his own profligacy, and hoped to regain his fortune through the famous alchemist’s services. And so Bragadino resumed the comfortable arrangement he had known in Venice, and the same pattern repeated itself.

Interpretation

The young Cypriot Mamugna had lived in Venice for several years before reincarnating himself as the alchemist Bragadino. He saw how gloom had settled on the city, how everyone was hoping for a redemption from some indefinite source. While other charlatans mastered everyday cons based on sleight of hand, Mamugnà mastered human nature. With Venice as his target from the start, he traveled abroad, made some money through his alchemy scams, and then returned to Italy, setting up shop in Brescia. There he created a reputation that he knew would spread to Venice. From a distance, in fact, his aura of power would be all the more impressive.

At first Mamugna did not use vulgar demonstrations to convince people of his alchemic skill. His sumptuous palace, his opulent garments, the clink of gold in his hands, all these provided a superior argument to anything rational. And these established the cycle that kept him going: His obvious wealth confirmed his reputation as an alchemist, so that patrons like the Duke of Mantua gave him money, which allowed him to live in wealth, which reinforced his reputation as an alchemist, and so on. Only once this reputation was established, and dukes and senators were fighting over him, did he resort to the trifling necessity of a demonstration. By then, however, people were easy to deceive: They wanted to believe. The Venetian senators who watched him multiply gold wanted to believe so badly that they failed to notice the glass pipe up his sleeve, from which he slipped gold dust into his pinches of minerals. Brilliant and capricious, he was the alchemist of their fantasies—and once he had created an aura like this, no one noticed his simple deceptions.

Such is the power of the fantasies that take root in us, especially in times of scarcity and decline. People rarely believe that their problems arise from their own misdeeds and stupidity. Someone or something out there is to blame—the other, the world, the gods—and so salvation comes from the outside as well. Had Bragadino arrived in Venice armed with a detailed analysis of the reasons behind the city’s economic decline, and of the hard-nosed steps that it could take to turn things around, he would have been scorned. The reality was too ugly and the solution too painful—mostly the kind of hard work that the citizens’ ancestors had mustered to create an empire. Fantasy, on the other hand—in this case the romance of alchemy—was easy to understand and infinitely more palatable.

To gain power, you must be a source of pleasure for those around you—and pleasure comes from playing to people’s fantasies. Never promise a gradual improvement through hard work; rather, promise the moon, the great and sudden transformation, the pot of gold.

No man need despair of gaining converts to the most extravagant hypothesis who has art enough to represent it in favorable colors.

David Hume, 1711-1776

If you want to tell lies that will be believed, don’t tell the truth that won’t.

EMPEROR TOKUGAWA IEYASU OF JAPAN, SEVENTEENTH CENTURY

KEYS TO POWER

Fantasy can never operate alone. It requires the backdrop of the humdrum and the mundane. It is the oppressiveness of reality that allows fantasy to take root and bloom. In sixteenth-century Venice, the reality was one of decline and loss of prestige. The corresponding fantasy described a sudden recovery of past glories through the miracle of alchemy. While the reality only got worse, the Venetians inhabited a happy dream world in which their city restored its fabulous wealth and power overnight, turning dust into gold.

The person who can spin a fantasy out of an oppressive reality has access to untold power. As you search for the fantasy that will take hold of the masses, then, keep your eye on the banal truths that weigh heavily on us all. Never be distracted by people’s glamorous portraits of themselves and their lives; search and dig for what really imprisons them. Once you find that, you have the magical key that will put great power in your hands.

Although times and people change, let us examine a few of the oppressive realities that endure, and the opportunities for power they provide:

The Reality: Change is slow and gradual. It requires hard work, a bit of luck, a fair amount of self-sacrifice, and a lot of patience.

The Fantasy: A sudden transformation will bring a total change in one’s fortunes, bypassing work, luck, self-sacrifice, and time in one fantastic stroke.

This is of course the fantasy par excellence of the charlatans who prowl among us to this day, and was the key to Bragadino’s success. Promise a great and total change—from poor to rich, sickness to health, misery to ecstasy—and you will have followers.

How did the great sixteenth-century German quack Leonhard Thurneisser become the court physician for the Elector of Brandenburg without ever studying medicine? Instead of offering amputations, leeches, and foul-tasting purgatives (the medicaments of the time), Thurneisser offered sweet-tasting elixirs and promised instant recovery. Fashionable courtiers especially wanted his solution of “drinkable gold,” which cost a fortune. If some inexplicable illness assailed you, Thurneisser would consult a horoscope and prescribe a talisman. Who could resist such a fantasy—health and well-being without sacrifice and pain!

The Reality: The social realm has hard-set codes and boundaries. We understand these limits and know that we have to move within the same familiar circles, day in and day out.

The Fantasy: We can enter a totally new world with different codes and the promise of adventure.

In the early 1700s, all London was abuzz with talk of a mysterious stranger, a young man named George Psalmanazar. He had arrived from what was to most Englishmen a fantastical land: the island of Formosa (now Taiwan), off the coast of China. Oxford University engaged Psalmanazar to teach the island’s language; a few years later he translated the Bible into Formosan, then wrote a book—an immediate best-seller—on Formosa’s history and geography. English royalty wined and dined the young man, and everywhere he went he entertained his hosts with wondrous stories of his homeland, and its bizarre customs.

After Psalmanazar died, however, his will revealed that he was in fact merely a Frenchman with a rich imagination. Everything he had said about Formosa—its alphabet, its language, its literature, its entire culture—he had invented. He had built on the English public’s ignorance of the place to concoct an elaborate story that fulfilled their desire for the exotic and strange. British culture’s rigid control of people’s dangerous dreams gave him the perfect opportunity to exploit their fantasy.

The fantasy of the exotic, of course, can also skirt the sexual. It must not come too close, though, for the physical hinders the power of fantasy; it can be seen, grasped, and then tired of—the fate of most courtesans. The bodily charms of the mistress only whet the master’s appetite for more and different pleasures, a new beauty to adore. To bring power, fantasy must remain to some degree unrealized, literally unreal. The dancer Mata Hari, for instance, who rose to public prominence in Paris before World War I, had quite ordinary looks. Her power came from the fantasy she created of being strange and exotic, unknowable and indecipherable. The taboo she worked with was less sex itself than the breaking of social codes.

Another form of the fantasy of the exotic is simply the hope for relief from boredom. Con artists love to play on the oppressiveness of the working world, its lack of adventure. Their cons might involve, say, the recovery of lost Spanish treasure, with the possible participation of an alluring Mexican señorita and a connection to the president of a South American country—anything offering release from the humdrum.

The Reality: Society is fragmented and full of conflict.

The Fantasy: People can come together in a mystical union of souls.

In the 1920s the con man Oscar Hartzell made a quick fortune out of the age-old Sir Francis Drake swindle—basically promising any sucker who happened to be surnamed “Drake” a substantial share of the long-lost “Drake treasure,” to which Hartzell had access. Thousands across the Midwest fell for the scam, which Hartzell cleverly turned into a crusade against the government and everyone else who was trying to keep the Drake fortune out of the rightful hands of its heirs. There developed a mystical union of the oppressed Drakes, with emotional rallies and meetings. Promise such a union and you can gain much power, but it is a dangerous power that can easily turn against you. This is a fantasy for demagogues to play on.

The Reality: Death. The dead cannot be brought back, the past cannot be changed.

The Fantasy: A sudden reversal of this intolerable fact.

This con has many variations, but requires great skill and subtlety.

The beauty and importance of the art of Vermeer have long been recognized, but his paintings are small in number, and are extremely rare. In the 1930s, though, Vermeers began to appear on the art market. Experts were called on to verify them, and pronounced them real. Possession of these new Vermeers would crown a collector’s career. It was like the resurrection of Lazarus: In a strange way, Vermeer had been brought back to life. The past had been changed.

Only later did it come out that the new Vermeers were the work of a middle-aged Dutch forger named Han van Meegeren. And he had chosen Vermeer for his scam because he understood fantasy: The paintings would seem real precisely because the public, and the experts as well, so desperately wanted to believe they were.

Remember: The key to fantasy is distance. The distant has allure and promise, seems simple and problem free. What you are offering, then, should be ungraspable. Never let it become oppressively familiar; it is the mirage in the distance, withdrawing as the sucker approaches. Never be too direct in describing the fantasy—keep it vague. As a forger of fantasies, let your victim come close enough to see and be tempted, but keep him far away enough that he stays dreaming and desiring.

Image: The Moon. Unattainable, always changing shape, disappearing and reappearing. We look at it, imagine, wonder, and pine—never familiar, continuous provoker of dreams. Do not offer the obvious. Promise the moon.

Authority: A lie is an allurement, a fabrication, that can be embellished into a fantasy. It can be clothed in the raiments of a mystic conception. Truth is cold, sober fact, not so comfortable to absorb. A lie is more palatable. The most detested person in the world is the one who always tells the truth, who never romances.... I found it far more interesting and profitable to romance than to tell the truth. (Joseph Weil, a.k.a. “The Yellow Kid,” 1875-1976)

REVERSAL

If there is power in tapping into the fantasies of the masses, there is also danger. Fantasy usually contains an element of play—the public half realizes it is being duped, but it keeps the dream alive anyway, relishing the entertainment and the temporary diversion from the everyday that you are providing. So keep it light—never come too close to the place where you are actually expected to produce results. That place may prove extremely hazardous.

After Bragadino established himself in Munich, he found that the sober-minded Bavarians had far less faith in alchemy than the temperamental Venetians. Only the duke really believed in it, for he needed it desperately to rescue him from the hopeless mess he was in. As Bragadino played his familiar waiting game, accepting gifts and expecting patience, the public grew angry. Money was being spent and was yielding no results. In 1592 the Bavarians demanded justice, and eventually Bragadino found himself swinging from the gallows. As before, he had promised and had not delivered, but this time he had misjudged the forbearance of his hosts, and his inability to fulfill their fantasy proved fatal.

One last thing: Never make the mistake of imagining that fantasy is always fantastical. It certainly contrasts with reality, but reality itself is sometimes so theatrical and stylized that fantasy becomes a desire for simple things. The image Abraham Lincoln created of himself, for example, as a homespun country lawyer with a beard, made him the common man’s president.

P. T. Barnum created a successful act with Tom Thumb, a dwarf who dressed up as famous leaders of the past, such as Napoleon, and lampooned them wickedly. The show delighted everyone, right up to Queen Victoria, by appealing to the fantasy of the time: Enough of the vainglorious rulers of history, the common man knows best. Tom Thumb reversed the familiar pattern of fantasy in which the strange and unknown becomes the ideal. But the act still obeyed the Law, for underlying it was the fantasy that the simple man is without problems, and is happier than the powerful and the rich.

Both Lincoln and Tom Thumb played the commoner but carefully maintained their distance. Should you play with such a fantasy, you too must carefully cultivate distance and not allow your “common” persona to become too familiar or it will not project as fantasy.

#quotes #books #power #love #history

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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Justifying the American Dream *Title may change* (GROUP FIC/MULTISHIP) ~ Grinder

AN: I know I said I’d return after my University work is over but I wanted to post this little pilot thingie early to see how it does. I’ve got most of my Uni work done, right now I just gotta do an exam and I’m finished.

So basically this is something I wanna work heavily on after Courtney’s Infinite Search for Love. The premise is that paper and metallic money doesn’t exist anymore. The World now makes payments via digital transfers and purchases. There are reasons for this which I’ll explain in later chapters of the fic. But one day there’s a glitch in the system and so many families across the World are left penniless. When the Government refuse to give the families anything from the issue, riots break out all over.

Now you’re probably wondering how Drag Queens come into this but it will explain as the story goes along. For now all I’ll say is that the LGBT is a targeted and persecuted community in this fic therefore the Queens are trying to hide it out and survive against their enemies.

Sorry for the long explanation! I will reupload this chapter at a later date if I feel errors need to be corrected or if certain elements or Queens are missing.

For now! Enjoy :)

*Area 05*Exploris Bay Aquarium 12:43PM

‘Christ, I don’t know if I can stand one more day in this fish bowl. Smells like 200 lesbians just had an orgy on their periods in here.’

Bianca scoffed passing by the giant tank of which Adore was perched at the top on the ledge. The young Queen scraped up a large amount of fish chunks and tossed it into the tank for her babies to feed.

“Wow! You sharkie babies are pretty hungry today, huh?” Adore cooed at the two sharks that circled the tank and ate their meal.

“Better be careful, Delasshole,” Bianca called, “they may be your babies. But you’re also in their plate of foods.”

“Fuck all the way off. They love me.” Adore called back, flipping Bianca off before throwing more fish into the tank. “Where are you going anyway?”

Before leaving the ‘Shark Suite’, Bianca turned once again, looking up to her young friend. “Dela and Manila are back from scavenging. I’m just letting them in. Relax, Queen.”

“Party!” Adore replied, setting the tray to the side. She grabbed for an extra large chunk of fish from the bucket (thank god she was wearing gloves) and held it above the water. “Bette! You want an extra-large piece? I know you chunkier girls prefer a little extra.”

It was easy to tell which shark was which. Bette was the short but chubby Bull shark, formally known as ‘Snap’. How original. Then there was Joan. The long and skinny Mako shark. Her name was the worst. ‘Killer’. It made the Queen cringe hard.

“Beeeeeeette!” Adore whined as the shark completely blanked her. “Stop being a bitch.”

Bianca had returned to the room, Manila and Bendelacreme following in her trail.

“Feeding your ‘puppies’ again?” Manila teased.

“Yeah, but they’re not complying!” Adore continued to whine.

“I wouldn’t do that, honey,” Dela warned, “You could lose a hand.”

“Why would I lose a hand? They know I’m their Mom.” Adore protested before her face became goofy again and she turned her attention back to her pets. “Isn’t that right, babies?”

Adore screamed as one of her children sprang up from the water snatching the fish from her hand. The Queen pushed herself away from the edge of the tank, her back plastered against the wall and her breathing ragged.

‘Bette always was a feisty bitch.’ Bianca thought to herself as they laughed at Adore’s current state.

“Come on, Steve Irwin. Team meeting!” Bianca called up to the young Queen again. She turned to Dela and Manila and said in a quiet voice, “his career ended as well. Too soon?”

Manila and Dela shook their heads and chucked at the statement, not loud enough for Adore to hear.

“O-Oh…Okay…Gimme a second to collect myself.” Adore called to the other Queens, trying to calm herself from her near death experience.

-_-_-_-

Adore had informed Raja and Ginger of Manila and Dela’s return bringing the whole team to the staff room of the aquarium.

“There’s good news and bad news.” Manila began. “Which one first?”

“Bad.” Bianca replied.

“This is all the food we managed to get.” Manila responded setting a small package down on the table. “There is absolutely nothing left. All of the houses and stores have been completely raided.”

“Fuck.” Bianca cursed, leaning over and letting her face fall into her hands.

Adore only hoped that the good news was enough to help them forget about the thought of their oncoming starvation.

“We knew eventually there would be no food left anyway. Don’t forget, it’s not just us trying to survive. Think about those starving families all across the country.” Raja groaned, flipping her raven hair over her shoulder.

“I’m aware.” Bianca snapped. She rubbed her forehead in frustration before turning to Adore. “Sorry to tell you but you gotta cut back on the amount of fish you feed to your ‘children’. Fish themed meals from now on, ladies.”

Adore looked greatly disappointed but remained silent. She knew Bianca was right. The lives of her team were obviously a bigger priority than Bette and Joan’s. The poor sea babies would starve eventually. The thought of not being able to take care of them anymore only made a lump form in her throat. It was the only thing keeping her from going insane when confined in the abandoned aquarium.

“And the good news?” Bianca inquired, looking back to Dela and Manila.

“We saw Bob.” Manila stated, in a matter-of-fact tone but smiled at the other Queens.

“And her team? In the van?” Ginger exclaimed eagerly, leaning forward in her seat.

“Yeah, they drove right by us. At first we thought it was gonna be trouble but we saw Michelle Visage and Cynthia Lee Fontaine in the front. That’s how we got this package. They threw it out the window when they passed by.” Manila replied, clearly awestruck.

“Wow. You Queens saw someone famous. Great news.” Bianca fumed, sarcasm thick in her tone.

“Lighten up, Scrooge.” Dela snapped back. “They’ll have Area 05 searched by now. They’ll know where all the supplies and resources are at. All we gotta do is pick up their signal and get to the locations before anyone else does.”

Ginger stood up from her seat and went to retrieve the radio, leaving the rest of the team to continue discussing the situation.

“So…food?” Raja asked hopefully.

“And ammunition.” Manila replied, smiling hopefully.

Adore’s face lightened up again at the sound of her second favourite ‘F’ word. “So I can still feed Bette and Joan?”

“Slow down, honey. We gotta see if there are any resources around here first.” Dela held up her hand as if Adore were about to pounce on her with happiness.

“And we shall find out pretty soon.” Ginger continued, returning with the radio. Taking her seat again, she flicked the switch bringing the machine to life. Flicking through the channels they mostly picked up static. After a minute of searching, the familiar sound Bob the Drag Queen’s voice filled the room.

“…just about left Area 05, ladies and gentlemen. As always, we have no idea when we’ll be back but keep on tuning in and we’ll be sure to keep you updated. For all the Queens out there, we had our sisters in drag, Robbie and Laila, search the area and, guuurl, is it good news. We have unlocked the storage units at the back of the mall and they are flooded with surprises. But don’t forget to be mindful of your fellow sisters out there. Sharing is caring.”

“We’re heading straight there,” Bianca informed Adore and Raja before listening to the rest of the announcement.

“And also be sure to check out the Prison on the edge of town. Word is it’s crowded with Queens. Take weapons, take a good few of your team and check that place out. If the rumour is true, don’t hesitate to join forces. After all, an army is more effective than a group. Good luck and don’t fuck it up.”

As soon as Bob’s voice was gone, Adore smiled as Kill the DJ took over. It had been so long since she heard Green Day. But Bianca wasted no time in remembering the good old days when good music existed as she was already standing and looking to Adore. “Come on, bitch. Get ready. You too Raja. I wanna get there as soon as possible.”

“Relax, man! Don’t forget we gotta leave some for everyone else too!” Adore whined.

“’Relax, man’.” Bianca mocked. “I’m not planning on taking everything. There could be other selfish people out there you know. We could get there and nothing’s left. Besides we probably wouldn’t have enough arms to carry all of whatever’s there.”

“Ohhh! Party!” Adore beamed, standing up from her seat. They three Queens left the room to get ready for their scavenger hunt.

“So what’s in the goody bag?” Ginger asked, now that the air seemed much more relaxed.

Dela began to unwrap the package revealing inside some food and a letter. The Seattle Queen unfolded the letter and began reading in her usual quirky tone.

“Dear Friend(s),

It was nice to see you earlier! We’re glad to see a lot more Drag Queens continuing to survive through this nightmare of a life we live now. Anyway, as always, have a goody bag on behalf of our team. Inside you’ll find cookies, sandwiches, fresh water and a little something extra (thanks to Laganja Estranja of the House of Edwards) for you Queens who like the ‘Devils lettuce’.

Keep in mind. This pack won’t last long so use it wisely.

As we say always and forever…

Good luck and don’t fuck it up!

Michelle V. & the Bob’s Broadcasts team.

“Well that was lovely.” Dela commented, passing the note to the other Queens. “Do you think they do this for everyone?”

“Of course, honey.” Ginger replied, reading over the note.

“I’m referring to the LGBT community only.” Dela added.

“Well, I’ve briefly read one of these notes before. That’s a story for another day. They’re practically all the same. I remember the part when it says ‘We’re glad to see a lot more Drag Queens bla bla bla’. So it most likely is only for us. It’s not like the broken families are missing out though. I heard there’s this guy who does something similar and travels around the country handing out food and supplies. But it’s way more than this pack.” Ginger explained, gesturing to the goodie bag.

“Do you guys remember the day everything went to shit?” Dela asked, her tone lowering upon moving on to such a dark topic.

“For who? All those families or for us?” Ginger replied solemnly.

Dela was silent for a few seconds, observing Ginger as she passed the letter to Manila and shook her head, pulling a cigarette from its box.

“All of us.” The Seattle Queen replied lifting her gaze to Ginger.

“I don’t wanna be that Queen. But how about we talk about that later. Right now, let’s just enjoy our goodie bag.” Ginger replied, lighting her cigarette. She breathed in its fumes, sinking back into her chair as a smoke cloud escaped her lips.

“Should I let Bianca and the girls borrow my pineapple purse?” Manila suggested, moving away from the dark topic and thinking about her fellow teammates.

“Still think it brings good luck?” Dela teased including a giggle.

“Of course, girl. And besides;” Manila paused, leaning her head on Dela’s shoulder, sighing heavily, “You know what Adore’s like. Always causing trouble. Maybe she’ll need it.”

“True.” Dela replied, wrapping her arm around her worn out friend. “She’s one untameable Queen.”

*5 miles out of Area 18* 01:14PM

“So, what do you think?” Tatianna chirped, tossing her carrier bag on the double bed, to which it only fell off. Turning to face Alyssa, she beamed a bright smile as she tried to contain her excitement.

Alyssa threw her jacket to the side as she observed the bedroom. It was quite cute actually. “I won’t lie. It’s not bad. Kinda pretty.”

Tatianna approached Alyssa, squealing with excitement and wrapping her slender arms around her waist. She squeezed her slightly, planting a kiss on her cheek. “I told you so!”

“Yeah, but listen baby, I still don’t think this is safe.” Alyssa pointing her finger in her friend’s face whilst still admiring the room. “It may be in the middle of nowhere. But that doesn’t mean we’ll never get our gay asses caught. For all we know this farm house ain’t abandoned. The family could be on vacation or something.”

Tatianna rolled her eyes at Alyssa’s whining despite finding it adorable as always. “Well they haven’t been receiving mail. So…”

Alyssa pulled out of Tatianna’s embrace, remaining silent as she went to unpack her bag.

“Coooome on. Relax, Alyssa.” Tatianna rolled her eyes as she reached for her own bag.

“And not to mention that we’re most likely not the only people eyeing this place up. There could be all sorts of hooligans and Queens and creepers and - -”

Alyssa was caught off guard as Tatianna wrapped her arms around her again and pulling her abruptly down onto the bed. Seeing the older Queen’s shocked reaction, Tatianna giggled.

“No, Tati. We just got here. God, gurl, you’re so thirsty.” Alyssa spoke sternly, pointing a finger in Tatianna’s face yet remained lying on her side facing her friend.

“I know, you just need to lie down and relax. God. Get your mind out of the gutter.” Tatianna smirked.

“Nah, baby. We should unpack first,” Alyssa pointed out.

“But old men gotta have their rest!” Tatianna continued to tease. Before Alyssa could even protest about being read, the younger Queen silenced her as she pressed her lips against hers. Despite the sudden clash, her pink lips were soft.

Tatianna lifted her hand to Alyssa’s cheek, caressing her skin gently as their lips moved in sync against each other.

“ALYSSA! YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!”

Alyssa and Tatianna pulled apart quickly, sitting upright on the bed. Alyssa’s eyes widened at the sight of Laganja and Shangela in the doorway. The two looked completely speechless, naturally.

“Well? What is it??” Alyssa demanded, a hint of annoyance to her tone.

“Uhhh…I just wanted to let you know they have a weed grow room.” Laganja tried to explain but finding herself distracted by their messy lipstick. “I can supply more to Bob again.”

Alyssa nodded her head slowly as her eyes just pierced into Ganja’s with that familiar stare she did - god she was such an intense person. “OK, well you two go do…whatever you want, but no leaving the farm! Just get to know the place, set up safety guards or something. Play hide and seek or something.”

“Smoke?” Laganja inquired earning a nudge from Shangela.

“Whatever you want, girl.” Alyssa shook her head but couldn’t help but smirk slightly.

“And what are you two gonna be doing over the duration of the time we do all this?” Shangela teased, folding her arms.

“A lot of unpacking.” Tatianna cut in.

“Well, have fun unpacking our things for us too, girl. Really appreciate it.” Shangela beamed a toothy grin at her as she turned to leave, Laganja following her actions. Before they could leave, Shangela turned around once more looking at the two Queens. “Don’t forget to lock the door this time.”

Before they could see their drag mothers horrified face, the two Queens quickly shut the door, rushed downstairs and out the front door.

*Outskirts of Area 05* 01:17PM

Thorgy Thor took a seat on a bean bag as the engine fired up and the van began to move. She took a bite into her small sandwich when she looked around to Cynthia who was now sitting in the back with the rest of the group, not normal for Cynthia. She always insisted on helping Michelle in the front. Thorgy didn’t like the look on her face quite. She was always so cheerful and full of high energy. But it was the complete opposite in that moment.

“You’ve been kinda quiet since we left Area 05. Something wrong, Cynthia?” Thorgy asked, shuffling closer to her friend.

“I dunno. I don’t think I should bring it up ‘cause everyone’s quite happy right now, you know?” Cynthia uttered, looking around to her team seeing them so happy and entertained.

Thorgy briefly looked away from Cynthia and to her hands, quickly thinking of something else to say, before returning her gaze to the brunette. “Well, if there’s something really getting to you then just know I’m all ears.”

Cynthia smiled and nodded her head before gesturing the Queen to get closer. “It’s just…whenever we pass by Queens on the road I always wonder if I’ll ever see April and Kandy.”

Thorgy’s mouth formed an O as she listened. Taking the information, she looked away and nodded her head. “We probably will eventually. Maybe not any time soon. It could happen a month from now for all we know. A year? Any time to be honest. But we promise, if we do see them, they’re coming with us.”

“But to be honest, with their behaviour the way it is right now, they’re gonna get themselves killed.” Cynthia presumed, sighing heavily.

“You gotta stop listening to the news, honey.” Thorgy cautioned her, holding her hands now.

“I know.” Cynthia groaned looking back to Thorgy. “But I just always worry that they could be in some sort of trouble and I don’t know about it and I miss the chance to help them.”

“Trust me, Cynthia. If that day does come, you’ll know.”

*Boston* Peninsula Apartments 5:30PM

“I’m so bored Brian.”

“Me too, Brian.”

Brian McCook stared out the window of his apartment looking down to the people passing by, free to do whatever they wanted and free to live however they wanted.

His other half, Brian Firkus was seated on the couch, flicking through the gallery on his phone and stopping occasionally at images of his guitar.

“House arrest is the worst.” Brian Mc sighed with frustration, tapping lightly on the window.

“Well,” Brian F started, “that’s what you get for breaking the law.”

Brian F was fully aware of his friend’s house arrest punishment. Yet the crime was still unknown to him. When asked, Brian Mc would only say how he actually deserved what he got. He had once said it wasn’t an extravagant sort of crime like murder or whatever. ‘Cause what crime you commit…isn’t always a shoot up.

“How am I supposed to find a job now if I can’t leave this place?” Brian Mc whined. “I’m definitely not getting money before the rent is due. I guess I’m gonna be homeless soon.” He paused to sigh heavily. “Why is my life so full of problems?”

“You won’t be homeless because you’ll be living here with me while you search for a mother fucking job and new home.” Brian F informed his friend like he did every time this topic came up. “Or you can happily stay with me if you enjoy it AND if you bring in some cash.”

Brian Mc turned his attention away from the window, groaning loudly to exaggerate his frustration. “But don’t you think this city is so boring? I hate this fucking place. It’s full of brainwashed clowns and dead but fully functioning families.”

“I guess it is. I’m sorry, honey, but it’s unfortunately the world we live in today.” Brian F replied, sitting down on the white sofa.

“What happened to the good old days? You know? Gay night clubs. Pride. Just being publicly gay and proud?”

“It’s unfortunately the world we live in today.” Brian F repeated before sighing and kicking his feet up on the furniture. “I suppose you could still be openly and publicly gay but think about the press all those gays out there are getting right now. They might as well go out and straight up ask someone to pop a cap in their asses ‘cause that’s where they’re headed anyway.”

“Yeah but remember; there are some fierce bad ass mother fucking gays out there.” Brian Mc added before his eyes widened and he started waving his hand at his friend. “Ooh! Ooh! Remember that duo we read about in the paper? The two Puerto Rican Drag Queens!”

“I do.”

“I bet we could do something like that. Going out and taking back our rights and shooting up bars full of homophobes and just travelling all over the country spreading the word!”

“That’s a terrible idea.” Brian F replied lifting the needle from the record. “You’re under house arrest and the press will find that out and expose you. A gay criminal traveling across the country with intentions of killing people would make great headlines for the press.”

“I know! But fuck all that! If the Puerto Rican kids can do it, so can we.”

“Well, firstly, those Puerto Rican’s are also Drag Queens. Not just normal re-closeted gays like you and I. They’re both hot as fuck and know what they’re doing. And, secondly, I’m gonna be honest with you.” Brian F started, leaning up on the couch and turning to face his friend. “You and I are idiots. It’s no lie. We are the biggest goof balls going and think about it. Comic relief characters usually get killed off in the movies pretty fast. Like Dobbie from Harry Potter.”

“But that’s just a dumb fake ass movie. I’m pretty sure we could make a statement. Not necessarily by causing mayhem at some bar but through survival. Brian, we could be legends.” Brian Mc pleaded. “I know we’re two dumb guys just thirsty for attention but we have so much going for us.”

“Like what?”

“We’re funny as fuck, well not right now, but usually. You’re a really cute guy and well, I guess I’m not too bad either. We’re charismatic as fuck. We’re unique as fuck. And we’re talented as fuck!” Brian Mc exclaimed, counting his points with his fingers. “And I know deep down that you and I have enough nerve to actually challenge those persecuting our people!”

“Yeah, I guess that is accurately us. But they’re gonna track us down and then our asses are grass.” Brian F continued to explain. “Just bury your dream.”

Brian Mc frowned, slouching on the window sill and resuming his observation.

He couldn’t stand to be part of the system; Hiding his true self, seeking some boring job to help pay bills, putting in his contribution to help create a better society for the people. He longed to live the life he wanted for himself. All he hoped for was to travel the country and encourage those people just like him to not be afraid and stand up against those who wronged them.

But he couldn’t. He knew his friend was right. Even something as small as holding a man’s hand in a store would only earn him a picture in the front page of the cities paper. And knowing those shady bitches, they’d have the worst mug shot to go along with the giant print of his name under the picture. How lucky those Puerto Rican’s are with their pictures in the papers – makeup on point. Hair styled to perfection. How it must’ve been to lead the life of a bad ass, killer, revolutionary Drag Queen.

“Wait!” Brian Mc shot up. “Thats it! Who has to know it’s us! We can go in fucking disguise.”

“Thanks for the idea, Robbie Rotten.” Brian F replied sarcastically.

“No! Shut up! Hear me out, OK. We could go as Drag Queens!” He exclaimed smiling madly at the idea. “How would they even know it’s us? Come on. With a little bit of makeup and some padding or whatever we could become America’s most bad ass Queens.”

“That,” Brian F paused to point a finger directly at his friend, “is yet another awful idea. We don’t even have experience in doing drag.”

“Actually I have experience in experimenting with makeup!” Earning a quizzical look from his friend, Brian Mc rolled his eyes and quickly added, “Jodie Foster Contact make inspired tutorial…Anyway I could pass my knowledge on to you.” Brian Mc’s eyes widened again. “I could be your drag mother.”

“OK. Just for the fun of it I will happily let you do my makeup right now. But I’m not following your Bonnie and Clyde dream thing.”

A few hours and struggles later, Brian F was standing in front of the full length mirror, his mouth hanging open to create a wide O. He couldn’t even recognize the man -or in this case woman- looking back at him through the glass.

“Look at huuuuuuh!” Brian Mc exclaimed creeping up behind his good friend. “She’s got the face of a Barbie doll, the body of Beyonce and the attitude of a mother fucking Drag Queen.”

“I look…nothing like me. It’s like looking at another person. In fact, what person looks like this? I look like a completely different brand of human. I look like my name should be ‘Trixie’ or something.”

“That could be your drag name! Trixie!”

Brian F turned and pointed a perfectly manicured finger in his friend’s face. “No. We’re not becoming Drag Queens, Brian.”

“I’m gonna do my face now.” Brian Mc informed him, ignoring the last comment.

And after another few hours, the moon was now cascading the sky and Brian Mc basked in its glow as he looked at his own reflection.

“I look like a Goddess. I look like the most desirable creature to have ever walked. I look like a legit woman right now.”

“But, girl, look how much you got on! You’re wearing chapstick and mascara compared to my makeup.”

“I know.” Brian Mc continued to admire himself.

“So you get to look like that and I have to look like this?”

“Yep!”

“Great!” Brian F replied, rolling his eyes.

Brian Mc looked away from himself and to his friend’s reflection. “Yeah but don’t you like yours? Like really really like it?”

“Well, yeah, I guess I do really really like it. My eyes look pretty cool. And my lips kinda look like marshmallows.”

“I like what I’ve done to me so far so I dont wanna ruin it by added to it, you know?”

“I get you. So, what’s your drag name.”

Brian Mc thought about it in silence before quickly spinning around and jumping up and down with excitement. “Ooh! Karen from finance.”

“There’s already a Karen from finance.”

“Fuck!”

“If it helps, I once watched an interview with a French Drag Queen who said the perfect Drag name is one that represents you and your interests.”

“Oh, what was her name?”

“Ben Dover. I guess she really liked reaching over tables for things.” Brian F briefly smirked, letting his humorous side come back, before getting back on topic. “But yeah, choose something to do with interests or something like that.”

“I have so many interests though.”

“Well on the count of three, just shout the first interest that comes to your head and we’ll go from there.” Brian F explained. “OK. 3…2…1 - -”

“I LIKE TO TALK IN RUSSIAN TO MEN BEFORE WE HAVE SEX ‘CAUSE IT RILES THEM UP FASTER.”

Silence…Absolute silence…

“Well?” Brian Mc urged.

“You can’t speak Russian.” His friend replied shaking his head giving his friend a quizzical look.

“Yes I can! It’s easy! And guys really do enjoy it. A little too much to be honest.” Brian Mc explained with excitement, beaming proudly of his hidden talent.

“I don’t believe it.”

“Which part? I speak Russian or it really does wonders for my sex life?”

“Both. I need proof.”

“колбаса.”

Brian Mc was confused hearing a loud moan emit from his friend’s mouth he collapsed to his knees. “The fuck happened to you?”

“OK. You’re right!” Brian F replied, standing up again and smoothing down his new outfit, blushing with embarrassment at what had just happened. “You do speak Russian. And it is quite…nice to listen to. How about something to do with that?”

“What about the most Russian name ever? Like something really hard to pronounce!” Brian Mc suggested. “How about ‘Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova’? Oh my God, I really wish I could hear those brainwashed jerks pronounce that on TV.”

“I like it, but let’s be honest. Who’s got time to say all of that? Pick something shorter, at least for me to use.”

“OK. I’m gonna go with...‘Katya’?”

“’Katya.’” Brian F repeated. “Yeah. ‘Katya’. I like that one.”

“Katya and Trixie it is! Oh my God, I’m so excited!”

“What for? We’re still not becoming out laws.”

Brian Mc practically threw himself at his friend’s feet. “Please, Trixie! I know we can do this. Yeah we may be two goof balls. But we can really do this. Think of all the young gay people out there right now suffering because not enough is being done to help us. Our people are shit on daily all because of one dumb Drag Queen’s actions. It’s not fair and it’s time for someone to take a stand.”

“But the Puerto Rican’s- -”

“OK, forget about the Puerto Rican’s. We can do a better job than them. I mean, all they do is go around the country killing people. We can make a more effective statement! Please, Trixie. Please understand.”

Brian F was silent for a moment. Throughout the duration of Brian Mc’s speech, he noted the hint cracking to his voice. He really did care about his community. “You know, sometimes I do wish times could go back to the way they were. All of this happened because of that one Drag Queen.” He paused. “But why? I just don’t get what would bring a Drag Queen to go out into the street and just shoot down a child. Actually, what would bring anyone to do that?”

“I don’t know. But, if I ever meet him, it’s not gonna be pretty.” Brian Mc threatened.

“To be honest, he’s probably long gone. No one ever found out what actually happened to him. And so many Queen’s and gay people have been persecuted since.” Brian F explained.

“Well, if that is the case he’s lucky. I could just…could just…” Brian Mc couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

“Let’s not talk about this. I’m gonna take all this stuff off and go home and sleep. I think it’s best you get some rest too.” Brian F hinted, taking one last look at his reflection and admiring the woman standing there.

“Don’t you wanna watch a movie before you leave?”

“Nah, we got an early rise tomorrow.” Brian F replied, collecting his things from the coffee table and putting them in his satchel.

Brian Mc’s painted eyebrows knit together now. “What? Why?”

“Well, we gotta hit the road tomorrow.” Brian F turned to his friend, the side of his mouth curling up to a smirk. Brian Mc let a grin spread on his face as excitement took him over. “Don’t forget to pack a suitcase. Bring your makeup, whatever girls clothes you got, shit for padding and duck tape. I got us covered for fire arms. They’re kinda shit but they’re for basic home safety. Hopefully we can pick up better weapons later in life. And also- -”

Brian F couldn’t continue as his friend was up on his feet and tackling him into a hug. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“You best hope I don’t randomly change my mind, bitch.”

“I’m so scared. But excited at the same time!” Brian Mc exclaimed, tears of joy threatening to spill from his eyes. “Fuck this house arrest gig anyway!”

“Tomorrow you’ll be free again!” Brian F smiled, pulling away from the other Brian.

“And we are going to be so revolutionary!”

The two pulled away and looked to their reflections before Brian F cocked his hip to the side, posing proudly. “Katya and Trixie.”

“Trixie and Katya. The sound of it sends shivers down my spine. We’re gonna be amazing.” Brian Mc declared as he wrapped his arms around Brian F once more before attempting to climb him like a koala climbing a tree.

#multiship #trixya #alyssa x tatianna #biadore #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #adore delano #bianca del rio #alyssa edwards #laganja estranja #angst #grinder #rpdr fanfiction #submission #queen au #justifying the american dream

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