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lil-creatorwritings · 4 years

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Summer of Smut Writing Challenge July 7: Three’s Company [Leonardo da Vinci, Comte de Saint-Germain]

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Pairing: Leonardo da Vinci x Reader x Comte de Saint-Germain Word Count: 2,670 words Prompt: Strip poker Warning: Pure, unadulterated smut. There is zero plot. Also poly and DP. A/N: Part of @voltage-vixen ’s Summer of Smut Writing Challenge. You can check the original post for the rules and prompts if you’d like to join in as well! I know that the deadline for all works have been move to the 20th, but I've moved my personal goalpost to finishing the 15 prompts before the month ends. That's just my choice, simply because I want to engage myself back to writing and I've found that I really enjoyed this challenge. Anyway, don't let the pairing or word count fool you--this is my first time writing a threesome. Now that I've given you that disclaimer, proceed at your own risk! Also, thank you so much to @umbralaperture for beta reading for me! Now I'm going to run away and hide myself in a hole! *runs*

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The downfall of being inherently competitive is that there are times when you bite off more than you can chew. Granted that confidence is a key to seem proficient in something you are not, it's proven ineffective if your audience knows that you are, in fact, not good at the challenge. Even though you can be stubbornly fierce, you do at least know when to admit defeat.

It started off innocently, for the most part. When you came up to the room carrying a tray of freshly brewed tea, the two of them were already in the middle of a game. Placing a full cup in front of everyone, you sat down on one of the chairs and nursed your drink. You reached to grab the table on the book, flipping through the pages to find where you left off. It was a quiet time in the evening and even though you weren't doing anything to each other, you treasured these sorts of moments with them.

As the current round ended with Comte's win, he took a sip of tea before asking. "Would you like to join us in playing?"

Tilting your book down to meet his gaze, you shook your head. "Me? Oh, no thank you."

The other man laughed, reshuffling the cards in his hands. "Is it because you give everything away from your expression? I bet we'll be able to tell what you're thinking."

Pouting, you playfully kicked Leonardo from underneath the table. "I can be good at it! I just don't want to interrupt your game. Besides, I'm having a lot of fun with my book."

"Well then, how can we get you to play with us for a bit?"

"I know," Leonardo smirked as his hands tapped the deck on the table. "We should make a bet."

Comte gave him a look. "We are not using money, Leonardo."

"Who said it had to be? There are other things we can use as a bet."

Intrigued, you closed your book. "Okay then, what do you suppose we should use?"

"Clothes."

"So you want to play strip poker." You crossed your legs, resting your arm on your knee. It wasn't that big of a surprise for you--even in modern Japan, you've gone to several mixers that used this game as a means of socialization. Not that you had ever participated in them, but you weren't in the company of strangers today. "What does the winner get?"

Comte poured himself another cup of tea. "Anything they want, as long as it's reasonable to the others. I think that would be appropriate."

That certainly did seem fair, but you realized a big discrepancy as you looked over the two men. First, both of them had way too many layers on compared to you, even if it was just their daily clothes. Second, it would be by pure luck if you managed to win once, let alone win the entire game with your skill or lack thereof. Third, you're sure that they knew this as well, so there's no need to create an enticing incentive for you to join. Not that you needed to hang a win over either of them to ask for anything you want because you knew that they can and would give it to you.

"Well? What do you say?"

Picking the book back up, you shake your head. "You two can play by yourselves."

"Why? Afraid that you're not as good as you think you are?"

You glared at the painter, who had a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I just don't feel like it."

"Now, now, Leonardo. Don't tease her." You thought that Comte was on your side until he continued. "We cannot fault her if she does have a terrible poker face."

It was a bad idea and you knew it from the start. You shouldn't have given in to the obvious bait.

But here you were, holding up 5 cards to your face as you waited for the two men to decide whether to draw again or finally make a bet. Your skirt and shoes had been the first to join the pile of clothes along with a beige overcoat. Leonardo threw his belt in on the second round, which technically was one article of clothing. Still, it was vexing to see them barely undressed while you sat there half-naked.

To your surprise, you had won the round, prompting both men to dispose of another layer of clothing. Despite the burst of satisfaction, something told you that it didn't mean anything in the long run.

The next round ended fairly quickly. Leonardo had already removed his coat, noticing the curious expressions on their face. You chuckled, remembering how their eyes followed your hands while you were unhooking your skirt earlier. In a smooth movement, you slipped your hands up your blouse, fiddling with the ties of your corset as you looked back at them. Their heated gaze sent a dull throb between your legs, finally loosening the piece before pulling it from underneath and letting it fall to the floor.

You had already accepted the fact that you would lose. With that, you decided to put on a show instead, stretching your arms out wide and arching your back just a bit. Neither of them gave away anything save for their eyes, which were drinking up the sight of your exposed torso and breasts pressing up into your blouse.

"Hm. That's certainly one way to undress." You heard Comte say before you reached for the cards, leaning forward on the table and shuffling them well.

A few minutes later, his vest had soon joined the pile. The painter looked at you expectantly, wondering which one you were going to contribute next. You hooked your fingers in the band of your panties, dragging them down your thighs at a slow pace. As the thin fabric slid further down, you flicked it away with your foot before coyly crossing your legs.

The two men shared a look as you started to shuffle again. And as expected, the round ended with the count's win. As Leonardo pulled his gloves off, you moved to stand up, which caught both of their attention. You had turned your back to the table and sashayed to the bed, knowing full well that they'd be watching you. Lifting the covers, you slid underneath it and took off your blouse before throwing it in the mountain of clothes.

"Cara mia, that's unfair." He teased, leaning back into his chair. "Who's going to be our dealer now?"

"Your dealer has lost, so I don't see any further reason to sit by the table."

Comte gathered the cards, shuffling them mindlessly. "Leonardo. Shall we raise the stakes a bit?"

"What did you have in mind?"

He paused to distribute their hand before looking up at him. "The winner gets to monopolize her tonight."

You sighed softly as your hands started to wander on your body, idly caressing your thighs while watching them. "Won't either of you just call it a draw?"

"There must be a winner, ma chérie. That is the rule."

"Hm. Don't think I'm going to lose to you."

"You'd be mistaken to think that I'd let you win."

As entertaining as it is to watch them fight over you, the growing heat between your legs made you impatient. Settling down on the bed, you closed your eyes and started to touch yourself, fingers gently running along your wet slit. A hand reached up to cup a breast, teasing your nipple until it hardened and gave it a light squeeze. Slipping a finger inside, you pumped it slowly before adding another one. You spread your legs wider, grinding your palm against your throbbing clit for some friction. You were no longer paying attention to them as you sought after your orgasm, bucking your hips up as you continued to pleasure yourself.

A pressure on your hand made you stop, opening your eyes to meet Leonardo's intense gaze. You whimpered when he moved your hand away, keeping a firm but gentle grip as he licked your fingers. "Such a naughty girl. You couldn't wait for us, could you?"

"I think she deserves a little lesson, doesn't she, Leonardo?" Comte sat by the head of the bed, tossing the blanket away before he helped you up into a sitting position.

"That's certainly something we can agree on."

With his arm around your waist, Comte hoisted you up on his lap as he sat on the edge of the mattress. His lips trailed a line of hot kisses on your neck, making you arch your back while his hand reached down between your legs and teased at your clit. Your wanton moans were swallowed up in a demanding kiss as another pair of hands roamed over your chest and caressed your sides.

As you were reaching to undo Leonardo's pants, he stopped you and pulled away. He chuckled at the baffled look on your face. "I don't think so, cara mia. This is a punishment for you, after all."

He reached past you, hearing the rustle of smooth fabrics together before he undid the count's tie. Comte paused with his ministrations to bring your arms behind you, feeling the silk tie against your skin as it bound them together. Though there was enough slack for you to stay in it comfortably, you couldn't move them around freely anymore.

With a final tug, he asked in a soft voice. "It's not too tight, is it?"

Shaking your head, you felt your heart warming from the affection. "No, it's just right."

"You'll let us know immediately if you need it taken off, alright?"

"Mhn."

Leonardo tipped your chin up to place a kiss on your lips, smiling gently at you. "That's our good girl."

Once again, they busied themselves with your pleasure. The painter settled himself between your legs, coaxing more of your arousal as he eagerly sucked on your clit. You could feel slick fingers teasing at your other hole, gasping when one of them slipped inside and started to slowly thrust, getting used to the sensation as Comte added another one. The tongue thrusting inside your pussy made you clench, your thighs kept apart with a firm grip when you tried to close them. The orgasm had blindsided you, moaning loudly into the room as your body trembled from the sudden rush of your release.

When he moved away, you noticed the slight shine around his mouth and chin. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he licked his lips, the devious look on his face telling you that it was far from over.

Both men were quick to undress, the bed creaking underneath the added weight. Comte placed you back on his lap, only this time you were facing him as he claimed your lips in a hungry kiss. A hand gripped at your waist as you felt something cool being spread on your asshole. The anticipation of what was about to happen made your heart pound with both excitement and nervousness, though this wasn't your first time taking both of them.

"Leo..." You whimpered, leaning forward as he helped to keep you steady.

"Just breathe, cara mia. You're okay."

There wasn't much you could do anymore but follow, taking a deep breath as their combined scents gave you a sense of ease. Leonardo was gentle, pushing slowly while trying to distract you from the initial discomfort by stroking your sensitive nub. The other ran his hand down your back in circles, pressing kisses all over your shoulder. The pain had already subsided by the time he was inside you, replaced with a feverish heat spreading through your body.

"Ready?" He whispered in your ear, to which you could only nod.

Keeping you close, he laid down on the bed with you on top of him. The count leaned forward on his knees, hovering over the both of you as he rested your ankles on his shoulders. He teased his cock along your slit and paused, voice taut with his desire for you. "Bear with me, ma chérie." You tossed your head back as he entered you, moaning loudly and doing your best to relax. Leonardo had let out a groan as well, his hands reaching to cup one of your breasts.

Neither of them moved, giving you time to get accustomed to the fullness. Comte turned his head to press a kiss on your leg. "The two of you make such a beautiful sight together."

"We shouldn't keep her waiting for too long, you know." The painter chuckled in your ear.

"Yes. Shall we bring her to the brink of rapture, then?"

They started slow, eventually falling into a steady pace of pumping in and out of both your holes. One of them would always be inside you while the other pulls out just enough before pushing back in, creating a rhythm that sent you higher to your peak with each thrust. With your arms pinned between you and Leonardo, you were rendered immobile as he caressed your breasts and toyed with your hardened nipples. Comte was scattering kisses from your ankle down to your knee, his thumb grinding circles on your throbbing clit as each of their free hands held onto your waist to keep you from moving.

It was nothing but bliss and all you could do was helplessly indulge in them.

Leonardo nuzzled his face in your neck, leaving kisses below your ear as he murmured. "You like it when we fill you like this, don't you, cara mia?"

"Ahhh, yes, yes...!" you nearly yelled, their ministrations provoking your unabashed response.

"Such an honest answer, ma chérie."

"Please," you rasped, the words escaping you as your head started to blank when they moved faster. "Oh fuck...!"

You could feel something tugging on your arms, realizing that your restraints were now undone. Even if they were a bit sore, you reached out to Comte, wanting to feel him close as well. He was quick to realize your feelings, moving your legs down and hooking them around his waist. Resting his forehead on your unoccupied shoulder, you wrapped an arm around him as you searched for the painter's hand with the other, interlacing your fingers with his as soon as you found him.

The sensation of being stretched by your lovers made you dizzy with need. You heard both men groan when you clenched around their cocks, only to make them slam harder and deeper in you. The increased pressure and tighter circles on your clit made you cry out, arching your back as you surrendered yourself to the immense pleasure. Their thrusts were becoming erratic as your walls clamped tighter with each push until you felt their hot release spill inside you, your intense spasms coaxing out more of their cum and filling you up.

Your shared warmth was a comfort as you waited for your heavy breathing to return to normal. One of them guided you down on the mattress, shivering as they gently eased out of you. Feeling spent and sated, you let out a soft sigh as you closed your eyes for a bit.

As you opened your eyes, it occurred to you that you had fallen asleep. You were still in bed, waiting for your vision to clear as you thought about getting up to fetch yourself some fresh clothes. The argument you had with yourself vanished when you opened your eyes and realized what was going on: your lovers had surrounded you, with Comte lying down in front of you and Leonardo behind you. Each one of them had an arm around your waist as they continued their peaceful slumber, unfazed by everyone's state of undress.

Your chest ached with the love you held for both of them. Smiling to yourself, you closed your eyes and listened to the soft sound of their breathing, the safety of being in their arms lulling you back to sleep.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp comte #summer of smut #summer of smut writing challenge #idk how do we tag comte? xD #i can't tell you how anxious i was when i finished my first draft and i just had to yell for an adult #but here i am posting this so #i mean my heart will just explode for reasons hahahaha #i had to change the last part because i was about to cry with what i originally wrote there #anyway............. you get a cookie if you've read all my tags haha!#im leaving!!!! goodbye!!!! xD

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thestraggletag · 4 years

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Indulgence AU, Part 6

Anons prompted:

Belle has a nightmare, Nick comes to the rescue.

Belle moves in with Nick to recover.

Belle opens up to Gold about what she’s feeling.

It felt sometimes like she was never going to leave the hospital. The doctor, to his credit, never gave them a definitive date, always kept things vague and stressed the fact that it was truly impossible to predict with any amount of certainty when Belle would be well enough to be discharged. Too many factors needed to be taken into account, including the possibility of infection or ruptured stitches once she began to slowly be able to move from the hospital bed to the bathroom.

Finally a Wednesday afternoon it was confirmed that Belle would be discharged on Friday, after a thorough examination of her injuries and her most recent lab work. Nick made the necessary arrangements right away, having the housekeeper prepare a spare room for him-he’d decided that his room, with the ensuite bathroom, would be the best one for her- and calling the nurse he’d interviewed already to take care of Belle. She would come a few times a day, to see to dressing changes and the like. He could see to Belle’s other needs, neither one much fancied a stranger with them as they struggled to repair their relationship. Belle’s things, which Ruby had helpfully packed, were already in their appropriate place. Seeing her clothing back on his walk-in closet and her books all over the place felt ridiculously nice.

Belle’s high spirits were obvious when the day finally came. Ruby had brought over sensible clothing to change her into, a blue dress, loose and comfortable, with a cardigan for the chill and ballet flats that Belle looked at as if they’d somehow insulted her. He tucked the cashmere tartan throw he’d brought over for his own use around her legs once inside the car and enjoyed the way she tucked herself next to him and gazed out the window.

Once in front of his building Dove helped carry Belle to their elevator, with a gentleness no one would have suspected from seeing him. Though he wished to have her settled on the bed as soon as possible she insisted she be placed in the chaise lounge instead, having apparently grown tired of closed rooms or beds in general. And though he fretted at first, fearing they’d forget when she was due her medication or that she would grow uncomfortable or pop a stitch if she did anything even remotely ardorous, it all soon faded away, and things began to feel like a typical lazy Friday evening together, working on their laptops, reading a book or watching movies. They had talked, back at the hospital, about a lot of their unresolved issues. She’d been surprised that her determination to keep her problems from him had hurt him, had left him feeling like she didn’t trust him enough.

It had been uncomfortable and painful, but it had been a start. And though he’d worried they would carry over to their new living arrangement it felt more like they’d slipped back into their very comfortable dynamic. It wasn’t until it grew late that they noticed a discrepancy from their usual routine, with Belle retiring alone after he helped her into a pair of her favourite pyjamas, which meant pyjama bottoms stolen from him and an oversized Columbia t-shirt. She had protested the fact that he had given up his bedroom till he pointed out all the benefits of her sleeping in familiar surroundings.

She fell asleep almost immediately, exhausted from the sudden rush of activity after weeks in bed. He retired to the guest room, talking himself out of checking in on her over and over till he fell into something that resembled sleep. It was a testament to how tired he was that he didn’t hear her at first, with the thick wall between them to serve as a buffer. But he did, eventually, fumbling out of the bed and blindly reaching for his cane a second after his eyes first opened.

She was half propped up on the pillows when he slipped into the room, sheets tangled around her. When she spotted him she smiled in relief, reaching out to him with both arms, wincing slightly when the movement pulled at the stitches near her shoulder. He went to her at once, all doubts about whether she might not want him there gone.

“You alright?”

She nodded, but cuddled close to him as soon as he sat on the bed, hiding her face behind a curtain of hair. When he made a noise of disbelief she sighed and told him she’d had a nightmare. It wasn’t surprising, taking into account this was the first night Belle spent with only a very mild sedative.

“You want to talk about it?”

He didn’t fight it when she pulled him down little by little till he was lying flat on the mattress next to her. His own bed felt blissful, and the shared heat from Belle even more so. This is what he’d been missing for weeks, this familiar feeling of comfort and contentment. He carded his fingers through her hair, something he had gotten used to doing very quickly once they’d started sharing a bed. The silence in the room was comfortable, almost lulling him to sleep.

“Can you stay?” Belle’s voice was small, not quite herself. “Does that make me a bad person, that I want you to stay? Is it selfish?”

For a second he regretted telling her how she had hurt him. She hadn’t done it on purpose, and Belle had an awful tendency to put other people’s feelings first, all the time. And he didn’t want her to begin second-guessing how she behaved around him, overthinking things with them. They had always been effortless in the everyday of things, their periods of conflict notwithstanding.

“Of course not. I want to be here too. Just… let me know if I’m hurting you.”

She was still so fragile, one bad movement away from having her injuries re-open. He was afraid that he’d move in the night and hurt her somehow.

“You worry too much.”

She snuggled closer, moving around a bit until she found a position that was comfortable for her. The minutes ticked by slowly after that, and Nick took the opportunity to savour the moment. He didn’t realise Belle was still awake until she spoke.

“I… I dreamt Jones went after you. That he-” She curled up close, unable to finish the sentence. “But when I woke up it was worse, because I understood that what I felt was what you did. All I had was one brief moment of panic that you were gone, you felt that for days. And I did that to you, because I didn’t trust you, because I was stupid and insecure. I’m sorry.”

He blinked back the sudden tears, embarrassed by the violence of his response. He gathered his composure and opened his mouth to tell her that it was alright, that it didn’t matter. It was all in the past. But the words died on his lips, tasting bitter. He kissed her hair instead and breathed in her scent, trying to digest what he was feeling. Relief at having his pain acknowledged, certainly, and a strange sort of happiness at seeing a more vulnerable side to Belle, one she felt secure enough to show.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

It was the first time since the failed third proposal that he felt without a shadow of a doubt that they would be alright.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #Indulgence AU

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etraytin · 4 years

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Quarantine, Day 103

June 22

Tonight's journal is coming to you from my balcony, where it is dark at nearly ten pm and very humid, but still pleasant with all my plants growing and the hum of air conditioners all around me.

And fucking yikes, those are some large bugs. The inside is also very appealing at this hour. I think I will write from my armchair this evening.

Anyway, I need to go to bed earlier than usual tonight because I have a very early morning tomorrow. Poll workers need to report to the precinct by 5am, and although I'm lucky to live nearly on top of our polling place, I still need to shower and dress and pack my breakfast, lunch and dinner before I go. We typically don't finish till 8:30pm, sometimes later, so it's a damn long day when you're not allowed to leave the precinct for any reason. Typically we make it nicer by throwing a big potluck of foods people can eat on all day long, but COVID ruins everything once again. At least there's a fridge and a microwave so I won't be stuck with PBJs and tepid water bottles.

The procedure is going to be different this time, too. I work pollbook most of the time at our precinct, which is the computer we use to check people in. It's not difficult work, but it is exacting, and it must be done right every time. Almost every counting discrepancy in a precinct starts at the pollbook, with somebody who didn't get entered properly for one reason or another. I have not made any major mistakes yet, knock on wood! There is a special precinct captain just for the pollbook, who does not work the pollbook but watches us working the pollbook to make sure we do it right. She's very demanding, for obvious reasons, and insists that we follow a particular procedure that is the same every time, so no steps ever get missed. This time we can't touch anybody's ID, which is going to make things different since we usually hold the ID till we've pushed the key to enter the voter, and we have to hand out the ballot ourselves instead of sending them to a ballot table. I'm hoping we get off to kind of a slow start so we can get the hang of things. I really, really do not want to be the person who causes a counting discrepancy. The biggest thing we've got going in our favor is that it's a simple Republican primary, so only one ballot type to hand out, and attendance is likely to be fairly light.

Going to bed early will be easy, at least, because the new mattress topper is here! Yay! It's very soft and cushy and I love it deeply already. I've only laid on it a little because it needs to recover from being vacuum sealed, but I can tell we're going to be the very best of friends.Our super-old mattress for the past two nights has made my back and neck very sad. We can't afford a new mattress, but this is like a new mattress, or close enough for now. I'm finally looking forward to going to bed!

Today was grocery pickup day, so we finally have milk and eggs and yogurt and such. The morning routine was disrupted when we realized that the truck's battery was flat after sitting for so many weeks, but I was able to take the battery pack we got for Christmas from my folks and use it to jump the battery, with some Facetime assistance from my dad. I know the principles of jumping a battery, but never had to do it on my own before. It's not too hard. I then had to go over to the post office, a chore that always ruins my day a little.

I don't understand what is wrong with my post office because I have dealt with many many post offices in all the places I've lived and none of them have been terrible like this one! I went in and told them that I wasn't getting my mail and asked if they might be holding it. Officious Asshole Guy, as he shall henceforth be known, assured me that they did not hold any mail without an order to hold it. I told him that I had a hold mail for the first two weeks of May, but that my mailbox was bursting when I got home May 16, so I assumed that, per usual, the mail carrier ignored my hold. I asked if he could go check, and he did, and came back with a big bundle of mail. He informed me that it was my fault that I wasn't getting my mail because I'd said I'd pick up my mail on May 16 but I hadn't done so. I reiterated that I'd gotten all my mail up until May 16, and that this must be mail from later, after the hold mail expired. He insisted that was not the case, that they never held mail without a hold mail order and never did not hold mail that had been ordered held, and that if I hadn't gotten any mail in a month, it was because people weren't sending me anything. It was useless to argue with him, so I took my mail and left. Everything in the pile was, of course, from after May 16. I went home and reminded all my family and friends on Facebook to please not send us anything via postal mail because the probability of it not reaching us is fairly high. I am sticking with my resolution to not leave any negative comments or complaints for anybody who has to work during the pandemic, no matter how terrible they are, but this guy really, really tempted me.

Just typing all that out has angried up my blood again, so I'll finish out with nicer stuff. The kiddo is back to using the knitting loom, which is a nice hobby and something good to do while listening to podcasts. He's been a little high strung since we got home, settling back into the routine, but it's getting gradually better. I wish it weren't so hot, so the kids could go out and play distantly with each other. Virginia is on a downswing right now, so it's not too unsafe except for the heat exhaustion part. My husband's summer class didn't make, not enough students signed up, so while that's a little less money for us this summer, it also means more time for him to work on his book.

And my mail today included two interesting COVID artifacts I will probably save: my son's report card with all V's (not evaluated) for his fourth quarter grades and merely a notation at the bottom that he is being promoted to fifth grade, and my sister's wedding invitation with an "everything could change at any time" caveat right under the RSVP instructions. These are strange days we are living in, but the weirdest thing I saw today was a Crayola Maskpack commercial that looked exactly like a commercial for any other Crayola school products, kids running, jumping, coloring in the classroom, interacting with their teachers, except every single person except one mom at home was wearing a bright colorful facemask. It looked so bizarre I watched it through twice, couldn't look away. It really is a new world.

#quarantine #crayola #election 2020

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prorevenge · 6 years

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Shady business owners don't like it when you call regulators.

Used to work in private security (rent-a-cop/bacon bits jokes go here). When I was first hired on, thought the company was fairly upstanding yadda yadda because the owner and I would bullshit a little about our respective military careers. "A guy who used to be in pararescue can't be that bad, right?"

First year was relatively normal security work, mostly fixed post (think Walmart door greeter but with a badge and handcuffs) and general "I'll tackle you if you steal things, but otherwise I'm just a breathing security camera" stuff. About a year in, I finish all of my qualifications for armed work and get assigned to patrol. Patrol is basically private police: companies would hire us to make rounds and respond to things at their locations (mostly apartment complexes, and mostly noise complaints or occasionally towing off cars and such, but occasionally managing residents during a fire or breaking up disturbances).

The company handled pay in a kinda wonky manner. Twice a month (on the 1st and 15th) we got paid for two weeks worth of work, and every now and again (it seemed like whenever they felt like it was getting too far behind) we'd get an extra paycheck slipped in with our normal one. I got my first paycheck five weeks after starting, and there was a point where we were receiving December checks in February. Pay rates were determined by the type of work: entry level stuff made $7/hour, more advanced made $8, and armed paid $10. Raises were available on top of that (for the record, I worked there for 3 years and never got a raise, and the two people I know who got raises each got 25¢ an hour after 4 years, also all of this was during a $5.15 minimum wage). Patrol required armed officers but paid as advanced, but was also a guaranteed 42 hours a week on a set schedule (three 12 hour days, a 6 hour day, and three days off) so most of us didn't really complain.

Moving up into patrol taught me a lot about the company that I didn't know. I figured the owner was a little sexist (ex-military types tend to be) but the depths of his sexism caught me a little off-guard. And then there's the racism. I'm Latino but I look white (because I avoid sun like the plague and got my bone structure from my [white] mother's side), though my surname is a dead giveaway: there's a state in Mexico to which I'm apparently related (must be a distant relative on Abuelita's side). I was apparently good enough to be on patrol, but not promotable (even though I worked my fucking ass off, even though supervisors routinely recommended me for promotion) for some reason. Or the fact that we had one black guy on staff, and he was fired for something that other people got away with. The female officer who was assigned the easiest shift because "it's all she can handle" and "this way, it's obvious I'm trying to work with the women." Those are as close to verbatim quotes as I can recall. Or the time he held a contest between patrols for excellence and canceled it after 2 months...two months in which it happened that the female officer won once and took second once, and the Mexican dude won once and took second once. Between those two months, I made an extra $30 in gas cards. WOOO! /s

For frame of reference, here are a couple of things white dudes did that they didn't get fired for: hitting 120mph in a company car in a 40mph zone (after over a year of doing 20+ over), carrying a gun without the proper permit, blatant sexual harassment, admitting to skipping stops on a route and just sending the business a false statement, writing racist slogans on the front of company-provided TASER cartridges (Homie Down is the one I remember), tasing people without proper justification, sleeping on the job, working drunk, etc.

I also learned about how they screwed over clients: this company pays for 12 hours of continuous patrol between their three properties, but the owners want more money so that route also covers 5 apartment complexes and handles cash drops for a couple of stores. Another business pays us $1M a year for 5.5 hours per weeknight and 7.5 hours per weekend night (approximately $450 per hour) and that route jumps off property like clockwork every night to take care of 3-5 other properties at specified times, leaving that client without their only security at key times. This group of apartment complexes pays for 1 hour on property per night, might get half of that if the night is slow because of the workload.

And then he decided to fuck over his staff (more). Patrol was offered a salary (that was 10% less than the minimum legal salary), with the strong implication that if we wanted any hours at all we'd take it. Once we were all salaried (or gone), things shifted over to 48 hour weeks. I did the math at one point and realized that if I watched a movie at the theater and ate twice at fast food on every day off, it was still cheaper for me to not work than to work (because of gas and food while working, considering I walked about 12-15 miles every night as part of the patrols, which requires a fairly brisk pace, which requires calories galore). But if you were scheduled off and they called you in, you either accepted the extra hours or you got chewed out, and if you made a habit of saying no you'd get written up for anything they could think of.

Then one of my colleagues got into an accident at work. He was hospitalized for like 9 days, ended up making a full recovery. But he was in the company car, so according to the company he was responsible for paying the $2500 insurance deductible. I'd had it at that point. I borrowed some money from my mother to talk to a labor attorney. Best $200 I ever spent.

Attorney gave me three pieces of advice:

If there's a problem with the way we're being paid, talk to the labor board.

My colleague was not on the hook for the car. That's why the company had insurance. It wasn't our fault that he was too cheap to spring for a lower deductible.

Document everything, but keep my name out of anything.

I passed word to the injured colleague about the insurance thing, and he lawyered up pretty much immediately (his family had enough money that he didn't have to work). I also made a not-so-anonymous phone call to the state labor board (asking that they not reveal it was me). 3 weeks later, I'm in the office handling post-shift paperwork when the rep comes in. I GTFOed as fast as I possibly could. I didn't want to be there for that whole thing.

Fast forward about 6 months, and the labor board has finished their investigation. Turns out that the salary was in fact too low to be legally allowable, but also that our positions were not legally eligible for salary anyway. So all of those 48/60/72+ hour weeks were full of overtime. Unpaid overtime. Unpaid overtime on which we were owed interest. Also, requiring patrol to be armed but not paying them armed rates wasn't legal (based on the employment contract, any work for which we required that license required we be paid the rate associated with that license). Also, the "twice a month you're paid for 2 weeks of work" thing isn't legal either. So we got several oversized paychecks covering back pay, plus others covering interest (which had to be noted in the check stub as interest on back pay).

The labor board rep couldn't do anything about the ways they were screwing over their customers, but she did have someone she could call. Someone she should call. Someone she did call. A couple weeks later, that investigation started. I don't know all the details (I left during that time to start some higher education) but a few months later they sold the company to someone else, and I heard through the grapevine that part of the reason was that they lost several contracts and all that back pay pretty much wiped out their savings (I got something like $8K in back pay, and there were another dozen patrol officers in that time frame, so I figure around $100K total went out just to patrol, and apparently there were some discrepancies in how they managed fixed post staff as well) and they had to move to a smaller house. The rumors also said that after the sale, the new owners renegotiated all the contracts (including getting a few that the previous owners had lost to being shady) and somehow they're still profitable (even after giving raises and whatnot). It's almost like the previous owners had just been trying to milk everyone for as much as they could get.

Oh, and an aside: I got to know the manager of that business that paid us $1M/year pretty well afterwards. She neither confirmed nor denied that $1M figure. So take it with a grain of salt, but if it's true (she manages the most affluent shopping center in town, which includes a restaurant where prices aren't on the menu because "if you have to ask, you can't afford it") that one contract would cover all the expenses of all of patrol. The owners always seemed really intent on keeping her happy (and made sure that we knew not to tell her we left the area for any reason except end of shift). And they always had money to spend on things like a large house in one of the more affluent areas, and the private school for their daughter, and buying a new gun or two (higher priced stuff, where the name stamp adds $1500 to the price) every couple of weeks...

(source) (story by m4dn3zz)

#prorevenge #by m4dn3zz #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #revenge story #revenge stories #last10

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mkyujji · 5 years

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I’m a security guard at a fairly busy tribal casino in the US. One of my most consistent tasks is checking IDs. Some tribal casinos - including ours - allow people 18-21 in to gamble or eat, but not to drink alcohol, so it’s not a surprise really. The 18-21 set have to wear a wristband that marks them as such for easy identification.

The rule of thumb is that if a person looks under the age of 35, you’re supposed to card them just in case. It’s not uncommon for police agencies to find the oldest looking minor they can, just to see if you’ll bother carding them or just sell them alcohol regardless.

My first day I was regaled by horror stories of such things happening very recently, my mother ran afoul of this at the small store she worked at back home in Texas, and I myself had a group of very obvious minors slip in past me while I was dealing with a group of abrasive military dudes who were offended I was carding them and was personally called to task over letting the kids through after the little shits (who did not, at least, try to get alcohol) stole energy drinks in the deli and got caught.

So I definitely take it more seriously and with more paranoia than a lot of my other co-workers... My supervisor even suggested that to avoid getting in trouble over potential minors again, I should card everyone who looks younger than my mother who is 65, but looks like she’s 100 and mostly dead.

The number of people who come in and get downright irate that they’re being asked to show ID before they enter a casino with five bars is so f*ing ridiculous.

Mind you, this is almost exclusively a white reaction. Like, how dare we question their right to be there! *eye roll*

I card based on what appears to be physical age and honestly, I prefer catching the shifty, shitty little white frat boys that make our jobs hell than the perfectly polite and reasonable folks. (srsly, it’s almost always the 18-21 white frat boys causing problems... or the military ones.)

If you look under 50, I’m probably going to card you if you come to our casino. And if you’re rude about me asking for your ID? No way you’re moving past me without showing it, no matter how embarrassing or aggravating you find it.

The exceptions to the 50 thing are 1 - employees, and 2 - regulars that I see often enough to know that they’re both def over 21 and more than likely carrying their ID. I have a friend that comes in that I card religiously because I know that she’s 19 and I know she has a habit of forgetting her ID.

One of my co-workers made comment recently that it seemed like I carded minorities more. I haven’t kept track of the statistics to see if it’s true, but if it is, it’s not on purpose.

I’m frequently shocked that some of the minorities I card are as old as they are. There was this truly love African American woman that came in with this older gentlemen and I stopped her because she looked to be in that indeterminate 20-25 range, though she carried herself with enough grace that I figured probably closer to 25. The man with her, snickered and elbowed her in the side with a comment of “wow, talk about flattering, eh honey?”. She was born in 1969. The woman was fifty years old. I was both kind of mortified and also totally blown away by this beautiful, elegant woman. While she was definitely the biggest discrepancy between age and appearance, it happens a lot with both men and women who are of African, Asian, Islander, Latinx, or Native descent.

I’ve had a similar incident with one caucasian woman. She was 47, but I was carding her because she appeared to be mid-late 20s, which falls into the “rule of thumb” category. But she’s been the only one.

One.

Look, it’s not my fault that white people age like milk instead of wine.

We curdle, okay.

We curdle like a gallon of whole milk left in the car on a summer week in Texas. It’s not pretty, but it’s damned obvious.

#random #carding people #work related

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jam2289 · 4 years

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Nice People - What does it mean?

My default perspective of people is that they're nice. That doesn't particularly hold true if you compare things to history, or other cultures, or even all of my own experience. I've had my life threatened many times, I've been shot at, had someone try to stab me, been successfully poisoned in Africa, have had money stolen, been lied to and betrayed, been lied about, and I've been conned a few times. I've largely ignored this contradiction because I didn't know how to reconcile it. But, the last 16 months have held it in my awareness so consistently that I need to confront my ideas about the niceness of people. Today is a good example.

I decided to go for a walk at Lake Harbor Park to clear my head. It's been a drizzly day, which I like. With an overcast sky blocking out the sun, the park wasn't too busy, which I also like. I took a trail that isn't the most popular. You walk up a small incline of sand, and then turn down a narrow ravine with trees all around you. Even when the sun is out it doesn't touch you there. I didn't encounter any people on that trail.

I could hear the heavy waves of Lake Michigan crashing on the sandy shore in front of me as I started to come out of the ravine. There's a steep climb up a sand dune. I cut across the top of the dunes along the shore, watching the waves crash. I saw one other woman with her dog and a backpack sitting on the sand staring out over the water. My boots left footprints in the sand, but made hardly a sound. With the noise from the wind and the waves the woman didn't even notice me walk by her, and I left her to her solitary contemplation. She seemed nice.

I saw that there were large orange markers floating out in the lake and wondered what they were for. I came off the dunes onto a set of wooden stairs. The first thing that I noticed was that the part of the channel that had collapsed earlier in the year had been repaired. As I walked down the stairs I noticed that there was a man with a jet ski in the channel. It seemed that him and his son were pulling in the orange buoys with the jet ski. I smiled and waved, and they smiled and waved back as they headed back out of the channel for another round. They seemed nice.

As I was getting in my car to leave there was a couple getting out of their car two parking spots over. The husband got the two dogs, and the mother was picking up the baby girl. I said hi to the guy and he said hi back, and I waited to make sure both of the dogs were where I could see them before backing out. They seemed nice.

I decided to stop at Meijer on Henry to get some Wallaby brand kefir, because it's a tasty treat. I walked to the back of the store, grabbed two bottles in each hand, and got in line. It was an oddly long line stretching from the self-checkout area, across the main aisle, and into the produce area. I was standing in line and a guy came up and stood next to me. He stared at the line and sighed. He put his two half-gallons of chocolate milk that he was carrying onto a stack of Coca-Cola in the aisle. I laughed and said, "It's a weirdly long line today. It's not a holiday or anything is it? The holiday was last weekend." He agreed that it was odd having such a long line.

We were talking and he kept adjusting his mask. I said, "The masks are annoying aren't they?" He agreed and said, "What's really annoying is the six foot thing. Whenever you start to get close to anyone they start to do this!" And he tucked into a little cower and shuffled away like he was afraid. We both laughed, me with my leprechaun bandana around my neck and him adjusting his mask. We talked about my students who grew up wearing masks in the Soviet Union and in China. He mentioned conditioning, and then told me that he uses whole Meijer brand chocolate milk that he mixes with plain two percent milk to create the best tasting concoction. We checked out at the same time at different registers and were walking out together. I told him that it was nice talking with him. He asked me my name and I told him, and he told me his name was Eric. We shook hands and he said how nice it was to meet me. And how unusual it was to have a nice conversation in a checkout line, especially now, and he liked that I was a teacher. He was surprised to have had such a nice talk.

The next place I was headed for was Scott Meats. I drove down Broadway Avenue. The road feels like driving down a rough two-track, as you're bouncing along you look out the window and see empty business after empty business, boards over the windows and doors, a desolate sight. There were more people than usual walking along the sidewalk. I noticed that one was holding a cardboard sign that read "Black Lives Matter", and just after that I passed the rally they were holding in the park. Ignoring the crippling content of the underlying philosophy, people walking on the sidewalk and speaking and standing in a park seem nice.

As I was walking into the meat store there was a guy standing outside with a bag on his walker. I asked if he needed help. He seemed quite surprised that I talked to him. He said he was just waiting for a cab. He seemed nice.

I went inside and grabbed my ticket, waited, and got a bag of hanger steaks. I asked what the seasoning was on them and the clerk told me that it wasn't anything particularly special, but a mix that they made in the back. He seemed nice.

I got in line as the woman in front of me was just finishing checking out. The cashier motioned me forward as she called for someone to come help the woman carry out her two bags. She had asked the cashier if the hanger steaks were any good, she said yes, and I said, "They are very good." The cashier scanned my bag and I put in my card as she told the woman waiting that it would be a moment for someone to come and carry her bags for her. I said, "I can help you." Both of the women were very surprised and said "Really?!" I said, "Yeah, I'm headed that way anyway." and laughed. They both did the thing where you agree with something by making one muffled laugh and nodding your head. The cashier remarked several times that it was so nice of me to help. I carried my bag in one hand and one of the woman's bags in the other hand. She thanked me several times as we walked to her truck. I told her to have a nice day and she thanked me again. When I was one car away she yelled something. I turned around and asked, "What?" She said, "I can give you a dollar tip if you want." I said, "No, it's no problem. My car's right over there. Have a good one." She seemed nice.

On my drive home I was reflecting on these unusual interactions. Mostly on the fact that they seem normal to me, and they seem so surprising to the other people. I was thinking to myself, "Why have these people been so surprised by these normal interactions?" My mind answered back with the obvious, "Because they aren't normal." They never were, and are even less so now that covid has made everyone scared of everyone else. When's the last time that I saw someone carry groceries out for a stranger? Never. When's the last time I saw someone walk up to a stranger standing in a parking lot and ask them if they need help? Never. When's the last time I saw two strangers have a sincere conversation diving into serious topics in a checkout line? Never.

It's not that they never happen, they're just so rare that you aren't going to see them. Sometimes people plan to do nice things. A few years ago there was a fad about paying for the meal of the person behind you in the fast-food drive-through. I don't think it's the same thing psychologically. That's a planned anonymous charity, rather than a sincere person-to-person encounter in the moment. Helping people with money might be more common. A few years ago I was having breakfast at a restaurant. I was standing in the checkout line and the old guy in front of me was digging for money to pay. It seemed like he probably wasn't going to come up with the total amount. I told him and the cashier to just put it on mine and I'd cover it. He thanked me, but didn't seem surprised. The cashier didn't seem surprised either, and we had a little conversation about him having love and hate tattooed across his knuckles. No big deal.

On the other hand, a couple of years ago I was looking for a parking space at the grocery store in the middle of winter. There was an old guy that got his front tire stuck in a snowbank. He was putting it in forward, reverse, forward, reverse. I drove past him while finding a parking spot. There were a lot of people at the store. People walking in, people walking out. There were tons of people that walked past this guy. By the time that I had parked and walked down the parking lot lane, not a single person stopped to help him. All he needed was a little push. I helped him and he was on his way. I remember being surprised that no one else had offered to help this guy, even though a lot of people were walking right by him.

In my mind, in these various situations, I was just being nice. I get this emphasis on being nice from my mother. But you can see that there's some inconsistency in my use of the word and my application of the concept. Because of the way I use it almost everyone gets classified in my mind as nice. And that doesn't fully work, because when I encounter not nice people, as I often do, it conflicts with my perception of all of humanity as mostly nice, which is a depressing inner conflict. I need to change things to come into closer contact with reality.

Our performative actions contain more information than images, and images contain more information than words. What we're seeing here is a discrepancy between how I'm classifying performative actions of myself and others with the words that I'm using. When I'm helpful, I'm nice. When I offer to help, I'm nice. When I have a sincere personal encounter, I'm nice. When someone talks to me, they're nice. When someone smiles at me, they're nice. When someone doesn't do anything, they're nice. This extremely wide range makes the use of the word fuzzy.

There's a big gap between being helpful and not doing anything. The key difference is between being active and being passive. Now we're getting to the heart of the issue, I can feel it. My use of nice includes being not-bad, non-malevolent, and not-hurtful. These are completely passive things. We could say that the person isn't good or bad, they're neutral. Just because someone's not-bad doesn't mean they're good, being non-malevolent doesn't mean you're benevolent, being not-hurtful doesn't mean you're helpful. Being helpful is good, being hurtful is bad, being non-helpful and non-hurtful is neutral. It holds the potential for moral action, but isn't engaged in it.

This passivity is what's common. Mixing the ideas of being passive and being active is what's confused my working definition of niceness.

This pervasive passivity is also what allows for atrocities. Hannah Arendt and Karl Jaspers talk about this in Nazi Germany, and Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn and Vaclav Havel talk about it in the Soviet Union. Stanley Milgram demonstrated it in his famous experiments. Arendt called it the banality of evil. Milgram called it the agentic state. To classify this passivity under the same heading as helpfulness is obviously a mistake.

Now we know the distinction that I was failing to make in my thinking. There is an immense amount of change that comes from that. It will take some time for my mind, body, and soul to fully digest. But I can point out some of how it will begin. For instance, if I think that almost everyone is nice, and within niceness I have being non-malevolent, and being helpful. Then, when a bunch of people pass by someone who needs help, and it wouldn't even be inconvenient to help, they are both being nice in being non-malevolent, and not being nice for not being helpful. Most people are passive, not helpful. They can be helpful in certain circumstances. If the person was in their in-group and they knew them they might help them, if an authority figure told them to help they probably would, if others were helping they might conform, if there was a reward someone would help for the benefit. But being helpful outside of these parameters is extremely unusual. By making the clear distinction between passivity and helpfulness there is no longer an inner contradiction in my perception of the situation.

It does make a deeper problem stand out though. Since this passivity is the norm by far, and it allows for such great injustices to prevail, how do we move away from it as a society? The first part of that answer is simple, the society is made out of individuals, so it's a change that has to occur in individuals. Carl Jung emphasized that very clearly. Arendt talks about the importance of thinking as an individual, Jaspers talks about assessing your individual guilt, Viktor Frankl talks about discovering and fulfilling individual meaning. What they're all dealing with is the conscience. How do we activate the conscience? How do we make and keep it strong? When I wrote 'Moral Engagement' I was talking about the contents of conscience, but the practices that engage it are something different. It's what pulls Arendt, Jaspers, Solzhenitsyn, Havel, Jung, and Frankl all into the spiritual realm when they talk about doing good and constraining evil, first within the self. It's deeper than philosophy and psychology. What's needed is deeper than a better thought. The mind and body house an emergent property, the conscience, the soul. In the depths of the individual what's needed is spiritual healing. Heal the spirit, the conscience, the soul. That is the way forward.

Here's the link to 'Moral Engagement': http://www.jeffreyalexandermartin.com/2020/04/moral-engagement.html

________________________________________________

If you like this, check out JeffThinks.com or JeffreyAlexanderMartin.com

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beauty-andtheblonde-blog · 7 years

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Hello lovelies!

Do I have some things to share! For those of you who may not be familiar, RuPaul is an Iconic drag queen who started making the art of drag a more mainstream and widely accepted community through means of being the first drag queen to land a cosmetic campaign (with MAC nonetheless), raising money for aids research, and more popularly known- hosting shows like RuPaul’s Drag Race and Drag U; shows that bring “undiscovered” queens with unmatched talent into the spotlight. Ru’s empire has been growing consistently since the start of his career, so a convention seemed like the obvious next step and DragCon was born!

Overview

DragCon has something for every kind of drag fan, which made for a diverse crowd. Meet and Greet’s were going on all day for those of us who had specific queens we wanted to meet (stay tuned for my post about meeting Cynthia Lee Fontaine tomorrow!). There were also dozens of vendors with all kinds of padding, jewelry, and costumes for queens that were in attendance, and there were a few cosmetic companies and other miscellaneous vendors as well! OCC, Jefree Star, Sugarpill, Ardell, Alcone, and Ricky’s NYC were all there, so I got to pick up some staple products and play with new ones! Each queen also had their own booth to sell their merchandise in, and there were some companies selling patches, pins, artwork, clothing, and pretty much anything else you can think of!

I will say, it was so crowded. This was great for all the business owners and vendors, but as a guest, it was so hard to actually do anything at the show. Lines to get into booths were crazy, which is expected. The length of the lines didn’t bother me as much as the lack of organization did. The last event I was at that was as crowded as DragCon had very distinct lines and labels. A lot of our time was spent asking what line we were in, and maneuvering around a line we accidentally got stuck in. It was just so difficult to get into booths; even the ones that weren’t that crowded. I really just felt like I was getting herded like a cow. Because the queens who had booths were doing meet and greets in their own booths, instead of a designated area, the situation only got worse as more queens came out for photos. If there was a designated area for queens to hold their meetings and take photos, I feel like the show floor would have been a lot less congested and things would have moved more smoothly. This being said, please don’t take this as me not liking the event. I had so much fun.

First of all, you could tell that everyone in the ballroom was so genuinely accepting of everyone who attended, and everyone there had some degree of love and appreciation for the art of drag. Seeing this kind of love and coexistence in such time of political unrest and social discrepancies made me feel like there are still good people in the world. You could literally walk into this event and find every kind of gender, race, identity, and orientation. I would bet money on the fact that not a single person felt out of place or underrepresented there. It always amazes me how the communities that are so often subjected to hate and discrimination, are the same ones to embrace whoever might stumble upon them.

As far as shopping goes, the booths I did some damage in on Saturday were Sugarpill, OCC, Ricky’s NYC, Strange Ways, Madame Whiskers, the DragCon booth, and Farrah Moan’s booth. Keep reading to find out what new thing I got to play with!

Day One- Shopping!

Sugarpill

The line for Sugarpill was bearable and pretty easy to maneuver; definitely not the worst line of the day! There was a show discount of about $2 per item. So, eyeshadow pans were $8 instead of $10, pressed shadows were $10 instead of $12 and so on and so forth. I picked up three eyeshadow pans and one liquid lipstick. I desperately wanted the shade Dollipop- a bright pink that happens to be Farrah Moan’s signature pink eyeshadow. But, unsurprisingly the shade quickly sold out. I did end up with Kim Chi (left), Velocity (right), and Poison Plum (center), as well as the Strange Love liquid lipstick. I definitely plan on using these shadows for day 2 so stay tuned to see what I come up with!

OCC (Obsessive Compulsive Cosmetics)

OCC was having an awesome show deal and there was no line at all! The staff was super friendly and welcoming, and let you take as long as you needed to play around with samples and decide what you wanted to purchase (I was definitely having some trouble deciding what color glitters I wanted). I ended up with two glitters, a liquid lip, and a lip liner! Spoiler, I use this blue glitter for day 2 as well.

Ricky’s NYC

Ok, I told myself I WAS NOT going to spend money at Ricky’s since I go there more often than I’d like to admit. BUT, in my defense, everything in the booth was 25% off. It would be a sin not to take advantage of 25% off in a store that carries Lilly Lashes and House of Lashes. Sooo that being said, I am a proud new owner of a pair of Lilly Lashes in the style Mykonos, and a pair of House of Lashes in the style Iconic! I was going to pick up a few Violet Voss pairs as well, but I still have three pairs that are still in pretty good shape. So technically I do have self control when it comes to eyelashes. If I didn’t have any self control I would have bought the whole lash display.

Strange Ways

This was actually the first booth I stopped at, and I’m so glad I did! They had some awesome iron-on patches, some pins (including two Shea Couleè exclusives), buttons, and stickers! I wasn’t originally going to get any patches, but then I looked down at the denim jacket I had with me and instantly changed my mind. I definitely wanted something pink to throw on the jacket, and the fact that the “duh” patch was both pink and sassy, was enough of a selling point for me. I also went with the NYC patch because that’s where the event was, and it’s my home-city! The two buttons say, “I don’t care” and “I’m perfect”. Because who doesn’t love some extra sass and a confidence boost with their buttons? Then, because I spent $20, I got the brands pin and sticker for free! Check out all of their stuff riiiiiiiiiiiiight HERE!

Madame Whiskers

I am such a sucker for earrings, and especially ones that are not your typical gold or silver hoops. Madame Whiskers had so many original pieces of jewelry, varying from huge dangly ones covered in glitter, to unconventional studs. Shocker, I went with something pink again; and something that describes my mood about 85% of the time. I was so stuck between these hearts and rose gold glitter coffins, so I will definitely be ordering from them soon. You can find their Etsy shop HERE. The companies Socials are on the business card below!

DragCon Booth

I was so happy to find out that event merchandise wasn’t super overpriced. Yes, $25 for a t-shirt was a little up there, but $2 buttons and $10 keychains, among other reasonable priced items made up the majority of the booth. There was a $200 bomber jacket and oh my goodness I was so ready to sell a kidney in order to own it. And I will say, the DragCon T-shirt might have been $25, but it’s not your typical cheap scratchy cotton blend. It’s super soft and light!

Farrah Moan

So, as most of the queen’s booths operated, there were two separate lines. One to purchase merchandise, and one for the meet and greet. In order to meet a queen, you had to purchase a piece of their merchandise. From what I could gather, this was a pretty common practice among the show. It was a little frustrating having to wait in two separate lines, I feel like there definitely could have been an easier way to move the process along. Even though I bought a Farrah tank top, by the time I got there she was already done taking pictures, which was also frustrating. Don’t get me wrong, the girl’s gotta eat and take breaks, she’s a person not a machine. I’m not angry that she took a break, I just feel like there should have been a better way of communicating that information, rather than waiting until you got to the front of the line to tell you that you couldn’t actually meet Farrah until tomorrow. The ticket I got worked for the next day as well, so again, I was more agitated that I waited in a crazy long line when I could have been doing something else. BUT I actually ran into Farrah outside the show while I was walking to the Port Authority. She apologized but said she didn’t have time to take a photo, again- TOTALLY UNDERSTANDABLE. She was really sweet and looked gorgeous, as expected.

Wrapping it up and Headin’ Home!

A few other miscellaneous adventures included the red carpet photo-sesh; totally necessary. We also stopped at the VH1 booth for a quick photoshoot and metallic bag!

Day one was a huge success! I got most of my shopping done, as well as anything that required a crazy long line. I was aiming to do primarily shopping and waiting around on day one, so I could relax a little more on day 2 and really enjoy the show, rather than wandering around getting stuck in lines,

Day Two will be up very shortly! Let me know who your favorite queen is, and who you hope to see on all stars this season!

Love and lashes,

Katy

RuPaul’s DragCon Day One- Definitely What Unicorns Dream Of Hello lovelies! Do I have some things to share! For those of you who may not be familiar, RuPaul is an

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wotringmevivianbf70insuranc-blog · 5 years

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car insurance verification

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question--marks · 7 years

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mirror, mirror | self para

Delphina had all but put the investigation out of her mind. It had been weeks since the interview, and she had heard nothing. The only reminder that it might still be going on were the occasional dreams about Jonathan, but she hadn’t agreed to Veritaserum, so it wasn’t as though the Aurors could find out anything she had said in those dreams. The new term was fast approaching, Delphina no longer had to borrow money from her parents with her new job, and she had made it through the homecoming ball without losing her temper at anyone looking at her or asking curious questions. Life was finally returning to normal.

And then there was the knock at her door. Mia was at class, and would be for another few hours, so the only person Delphina thought it could possibly be was Colin, or maybe Alice. Mia didn’t knock, after all. But weren’t they both occupied with their jobs during the day, too? Delphina checked the peephole, something she didn’t usually do.

Just as she looked through, a voice spoke. “Hogsmeade Auror Office, please open the door.” True to his word, it was Auror Lupin.

Delphina’s heart raced.

The first thought she had was that she was under arrest— somehow, they had discovered everything, all the lies, or worse, that Delphina actually had taken part in the attack on Mia’s wedding but had somehow forgotten the memory and now the Aurors had proof.

She wanted to run away and pretend she wasn’t home, but it occurred to her that she might be able to convince them to go away and it was all a mistake. Slowly, cautiously, Delphina began to open the door, but only enough to see through.

Teddy had brought another Auror, a woman with graying hair in a tight ponytail. They already had their badges out, and a piece of official-looking parchment. “Auror Lupin and Auror Williamson. We found some concerning discrepancies in several comments you made regarding this summer and we’re going to do a brief search on your personal belongings. We’ll only enter parts of the apartment that are private to you,” Auror Lupin explained.

“You can do that?” Delphina bit her lip. Her mind flew to the mirror in the nightstand. Even if she hadn’t used it, it seemed so obvious that Jonathan had given it to her. And surely the aurors knew how two-way mirrors worked.

“This is the warrant. You’re free to read through it, but we’re going to get started,” Williamson answered, handing her the parchment. “Now would you please open the door?”

Delphina stood there staring at them for a moment, mentally running through the consequences of shutting the door in their faces and locking it, never to leave the flat again. She looked at the parchment, then back up again. Lupin was exchanging a glance with Williamson and reaching for his wand.

“Okay, okay!” Delphina finally cried, opening the door and stepping aside as her heart raced. Her room was obvious, with the pink “D” on the door that now seemed childish to Delphina. She might as well have pinned a target on her door, she thought. The aurors didn’t go directly there, however, stopping to leaf through the pile of mail on the counter: a letter from her parents, several coupons for Delphina or Mia, a postcard from Cassie, a Christmas card from a distant cousin who always sent them in November. Nothing dangerous, Delphina thought, only slightly relieved.

And now they were going toward’s Delphina’s room. “Is this your bedroom?” Williamson asked. Delphina looked from her to the door back to her. It would be an obvious lie to say it wasn’t, and she knew how upset Mia would be if Delphina had them search her room instead.

“Yes,” she squeaked, and followed them inside. Delphina drifted toward the nightstand, trying to act casual, as though she wasn’t deliberately standing in front of it.

She played with her necklace nervously.

When it seemed like the two Aurors were occupied with searching her closet, Delphina silently cast a locking charm on the nightstand drawer.

There was nothing in the room that would contradict anything she had told anyone. Delphina didn’t have records of where they had gone or when they had been married. There were no letters to or from Jonathan. None of his birthday gifts indicated at all that they had come from him. Except for the mirror in the nightstand.

After some time, Lupin turned around and started walking around the room, looking at drawers and shelves from the exterior. Suddenly, he cast, “Specialis Revelio!” and the drawer shook.

Delphina’s heart pounded and she pretended she hadn’t heard it.

“Delphina, we’re going to have to ask you to step to the side,” said Lupin, looking at the drawer. Delphina froze, a deer in the headlights. She didn’t move. “If you would like to review the warrant...”

“No,” Delphina answered in a low, desperate voice, a lump forming in her throat.

“I’m going to ask one last time, Mrs. Marks.”

Delphina bowed her head and stepped away. She couldn’t bear to look.

There was the sound of Lupin trying to open the drawer, then a quick “Alohomora!” from Williamson and the sound of the nightstand sliding open. Delphina heard them rooting through it before an “Oh,” from Auror Lupin signaled that they had, indeed, found exactly what Delphina did not want them to find.

“Delphina?”

Delphina shook her head and didn’t open her eyes. No, no, this wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. She could picture it: the smooth silver of the handle and the back, the roses and the quote, the one that said, "Absence is to love as wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small and kindles the great." . The shimmery quality of the reflection revealing it was anything but a regular mirror. Delphina imagined they could tell right away. She even imagined Jonathan’s face swimming into view, even though that was impossible without Delphina saying his name.

She took a shaky breath, opened her eyes, and crossed her arms. “I’m not saying anything. I have the right to that.”

“Did Jonathan Marks give this mirror to you?” Lupin had an intense look in his eyes, like he was piecing together a puzzle.

Tears were welling up again. “I said, I’m not saying anything.”

Lupin looked at her for a moment and then back at the mirror. “Jonathan Marks,” he said, enunciating every syllable.

Nothing happened, and for a brief moment Delphina thought that maybe they would leave and this would be the end of everything. But Lupin was still deep in thought. He handed the mirror to Williamson, who tried the same thing to no avail. And then Williamson held the mirror out to Delphina, who shook her head. “I won’t do it.”

“Mrs. Marks, if this object can be used to communicate with your husband, you have been hiding an object from Aurors that would be crucial to the investigation of his whereabouts. Your cooperation right now would make all of this move much more quickly,” Lupin explained, evenly but sounding slightly annoyed.

Delphina shook her head again, hardly trying to hold her tears back anymore. “I don’t know anything about this. I don’t know what this is. Please, please, please just go!” she blurted out. This was hardly the kind of attitude she wanted to show while she was likely being investigated for possibly being an accomplice in the attack on the Selwyn-Marks wedding, but Delphina couldn’t take it anymore.

Auror Williamson took out a small bag and Auror Lupin carefully placed the mirror inside. “We’re going to have to investigate this further,” Auror Lupin said. He looked like he was about to leave before he had another thought. “Prior Incantato,” he said, aiming at the wand in Delphina’s hand.

Before she could stop it, a jet of light shot out of the wand aimed at the nightstand. It slammed shut.

Delphina paled. There was a silent conversation between the Aurors that made Delphina feel ill and ended with Lupin shaking his head.

“We’ll contact you soon, Mrs. Marks,” Lupin said as he and Williamson started to leave.

She didn’t feel relieved at all.

#self para #read more is only for the length #tldr: del's apartment gets searched and she looks sketchier #there will be a part 2 soon

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