so sick.

name: cam timezone: est fyi: mun is a poc, as of now so are all muses.

[camindierps]

Brady + Sevyn - @vnsty

“I said table two. Yuh deaf?” The man’s accent is thick, and the clear level of irritation in his voice only adds to it. He takes the plates from the man before him, his roommate, who he’d offered the job as a server because he needed the help as much as dude needed the money. Brady decides to deliver the plates to the table himself, aware that it was the only way it’d be done properly. He was certainly used to the idea that things worked out better when he did them on his own. He moves swiftly through the restaurant, the hum of conversation filling his ears as he stops in front of table two. “My apologies, I must do everything around here.” He chuckles lightly, setting the plates down on the table and reaching into his apron pocket to offer them some extra napkins. “I’m Brady, please shout for me if you need anything else.”

[vnsty]

the former reality star sat at the table with her nuisance of parents. no matter where they went they always seemed to wreck havoc on the waiters or staff, in this case her father had received the wrong dish and began to act as if he didn’t understand how it felt to mess up. sinking into her seat, her mother cleared her throat causing sevyn to sit up straight. met with who she assumed was the owner since that’s who her father seemed to request, bowing her head, “i’m sorry,” she mouthed. pressing her lips into a thin line as they spoke to the man above her head, “brady, thank you seriously.” excusing herself from the bathroom, she followed the male towards the kitchen area. “i am sorry, they may be wealthy monetarily, but they are poor in manners.”

[camindierps]

It wasn’t easy for Brady to hold his tongue, but since moving to the states he’d realized that the people there were sensitive. One slip up and they’d be giving his place bad reviews, and telling people not to eat there. So he stood silent, allowing these people, who looked inherently rich, to bash his service. He noticed a younger woman at the table, whom he assumed to be their daughter, seemed to be the only one exhibiting an inkling of remorse for him. He nodded at her, flashing her a quick smile before heading back to the kitchen. When he noticed she was following, he turned to face her. She was gorgeous, and looked familiar in an unfamiliar way. “No worries. I get quite a few rude customers. It rolls off.” He eyed her features, trying to place where he knew her from. “I know you from somewhere.”

[camindierps]

Brady + Sevyn - @vnsty

“I said table two. Yuh deaf?” The man’s accent is thick, and the clear level of irritation in his voice only adds to it. He takes the plates from the man before him, his roommate, who he’d offered the job as a server because he needed the help as much as dude needed the money. Brady decides to deliver the plates to the table himself, aware that it was the only way it’d be done properly. He was certainly used to the idea that things worked out better when he did them on his own. He moves swiftly through the restaurant, the hum of conversation filling his ears as he stops in front of table two. “My apologies, I must do everything around here.” He chuckles lightly, setting the plates down on the table and reaching into his apron pocket to offer them some extra napkins. “I’m Brady, please shout for me if you need anything else.”

[sagamemes]

crucial muse development questions.   send a number in my inbox to find out more about my character as a person  ( because often, the most important things about character development have nothing to do with their shoe size or netflix queue ).

what would completely break your character?

what was the best thing in your character’s life?

what was the worst thing in your character’s life?

what seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character?

does your character work so they can support their hobbies or use their hobbies as a way of filling up the time they aren’t working?

what is your character reluctant to tell people?

how does your character feel about sex?

how many friends does your character have?

how many friends does your character want?

what would your character make a scene in public about?

for what would your character give their life?

what are your character’s major flaws?

what does your character pretend or try to care about?

how does the image your character tries to project differ from the image they actually project?

what is your character afraid of?

[hostilitics]

YASEEN.

He studied her movements, making mental notes of her demeanor. It was something he noticed about all of the women he had interviewed thus far, no nervous fidgeting, no slip ups or stuttering. He’d certainly have to note that most women in positions of power were extremely well-spoken. Yaseen jotted down her answer, placing his pen down firmly once something crossed his mind. He’d forgotten his recorder. He sighed, running his hand over his head before beginning to fish through his backpack. “Sorry. I’m sure it’s real clear now that I’m new to this.” Once he retrieved the small recorder from a pocket in his bag, he gently placed it on the table and zipped up the bag, hanging it on the back of his chair.

“Come on.” The man grumbled lowly as he hit the recorder on the back where the batteries were placed, trying to figure out why he couldn’t manage to turn the damn thing on. Honestly he was fine writing down her responses, but he highly doubted the magazine would be too fond of him not getting Katya’s answers on the record. After enough fumbling with the device, he was able to get it working. “Apologies.” He murmured, taking a deep breath before his eyes landed back on his journal. “Have you ever been in a predicament where a person made you feel like the words ‘women’ and ‘power’ couldn’t be used in relation to each other?”

          One would assume that she’s been practicing for something like this her entire life. Hands remain folded, one on top of the other, though nerves keep them active within the confines of her lap. Her back remained straight against the booth’s cushions, mannerisms displaying one thing — attentiveness. Sure, Katya’s mind had actually been racing a mile a minute at the idea of her voice being attached to a project as emotionally moving as this, but at the same time, she felt a responsibility to the businesses she represented by helping them get off the ground. If not her, who else?

“You? I look fine now, but I’m sweatin’ underneath my jacket.” Katya remedied with a light laugh, thinking nothing of the slight mishap taking place in front of her. The recorder felt a little old school to her — then again, she’d been used to operating through Facetime and phone interviews. “Not that I’m any better at this, but voice memos work just the same…would that be any better?” She suggested, nodding in the direction of the recorder as Yaseen finally got the dysfunctional device working. Regaining her focus, Katya allowed her teeth to sink into the flesh of her bottom lip as she thought over the next interview question, one that truthfully could’ve answered itself before she chose her next set of words carefully. “All the time. When I started this whole thing, collaborating with these businesses and puttin’ them on a radar, nobody took me seriously. I mean, I’m a double minority in a world like this — a woman, and I’m black? Wasn’t nobody trying to hear me. Even now, people question me puttin’ my faith in small businesses trying to branch out of the hood. But fuck them, honestly.” A moment passes, and Katya leans in towards the recorder, a sheepish smile on her face.

“I can use big girl words and say fuck in this interview, right?”

[camindierps]

A smile spread over Yaseen’s face, followed by a deep chuckle. “Yes ma’am, you can say whatever you want. Fuck ain’t all that bad. I prefer you let your true emotions show through, let the people know it’s forreal.” He scribbled another note across the page in his journal before looking up at her. He admired her realness. If he was being honest, he came to the coffee shop thinking he would be meeting with an uptight business woman who wanted to spew information at him and be done. It was clear that Katya was different in the regard, and it was refreshing. He’d much rather spend time talking to somebody who actually felt something, no matter what it was.

“Two more questions Ms. Delevani, then we can gon’ and get up out of here.” He took a long sip of his coffee, which had now cooled off significantly. “What are you most proud of doin’ in your career up to this point? I know you done a lot, but does sum’ stick out to you? Anything special?” He was honestly intrigued. He’d read up about the woman prior to their interview, and he’d found in his research that she had her hands in a little of everything. It was a respectable thing to do, being an advocate for small businesses, and it seemed that once her name was on it they were almost guaranteed success.

[camindierps]

drafting replies nowww.

[camindierps]

life is super hectic. be on sometime soon.

[hostilitics]

YASEEN.

Yaseen was not at all familiar with interviewing and journalism tactics. In fact, this was his very first. He was a self-employed author working on his novel — or at least he was until he got more than a few months behind on his rent. He needed this interview to go well to secure his position at a big-time magazine. “I really ‘preciate you doing this Miss Delevani. This piece is definitely gon’ be special.” Yaseen’s southern drawl poured from his lips as he pulled out his leather bound journal, it was worn and tattered with only a few blank pages left in it. He took a sip of his coffee, black with two sugars, it was strong with the slightest amount of sweetness just the way he liked. “So, my first question. What does the word power mean to you?”

          The cup now being pulled to her lips is what masks the rest of her smile, only slightly, and it had been one of professional politeness. The espresso in her drink hadn’t been as strong as she usually liked it, but with this piece in particular, she wanted all of her answers to come from a raw place of clarity and honesty — and, she hadn’t eaten, so she’d be damned if she drank a strong coffee on a relatively empty stomach. “I just hope everyone who reads it will think so.” She observes after a generous sip, and at his direction, Katya allows her hands to rest in her lap momentarily as she ponders on the question he’s presented her with. 

“Power is…subjective, honestly.” The words come out hesitantly, like she’s thinking on the correct way to execute them, before continuing. “I feel like our whole lives, Black people struggle with that word ‘cause it’s been used against us so many times — but lately, it’s all about what you feel within, and what you choose to do with it. As far as money goes, yeah I got power. But I got empathy too. That makes the difference in how you project that power.”

[camindierps]

He studied her movements, making mental notes of her demeanor. It was something he noticed about all of the women he had interviewed thus far, no nervous fidgeting, no slip ups or stuttering. He’d certainly have to note that most women in positions of power were extremely well-spoken. Yaseen jotted down her answer, placing his pen down firmly once something crossed his mind. He’d forgotten his recorder. He sighed, running his hand over his head before beginning to fish through his backpack. “Sorry. I’m sure it’s real clear now that I’m new to this.” Once he retrieved the small recorder from a pocket in his bag, he gently placed it on the table and zipped up the bag, hanging it on the back of his chair.

“Come on.” The man grumbled lowly as he hit the recorder on the back where the batteries were placed, trying to figure out why he couldn’t manage to turn the damn thing on. Honestly he was fine writing down her responses, but he highly doubted the magazine would be too fond of him not getting Katya’s answers on the record. After enough fumbling with the device, he was able to get it working. “Apologies.” He murmured, taking a deep breath before his eyes landed back on his journal. “Have you ever been in a predicament where a person made you feel like the words ‘women’ and ‘power’ couldn’t be used in relation to each other?”

[camindierps]

i’ll be on later tonight!

[rpmusings-galore]

good men don’t need rules

              … today is not the day to find out why i have so many

[plasticonthesofa]

[hip-hop-homoerotica]

[blackpeoplefashion]

Come on, girlie!

[guysneedlove-deactivated2020071]

open to: m/f/nb plot: kendall is a successful lawyer who signs up to be a bachelor at a speed dating charity event. your muse has paid to participate in the speed dating charity event. it could go anywhere from here. bonus if they know each other/have a history. 

The cool night air sends a chill down the spine of Kendall Nash, causing the man to slide his large hands into the pockets of his jacket. The stars above twinkle brightly, like silver glitter scattered across a black surface, and the moonlight is enough to illuminate Kendall’s chiseled facial features as he crosses the street and heads into the building. A coat checker greets him, taking his coat and passing him a number, and then he’s quickly ushered by a chipper young man into a ballroom, where numerous tables have been set up. A big banner hangs on one wall that reads: ‘Speed Dating Charity Event!’. Usually, Kendall isn’t one for dating, especially not in some cheap ploy like this one. However, he found himself cornered by one of the partners at his father’s law firm where he works, and someone his name ended up on the list as a bachelor.

Kendall has some notoriety around the city as a hotshot lawyer, he’s actually tried a high televised case already, and he’s only thirty-five years. The main topic of discussion during that event though was his good looks. Not only that – but he’s single. Kendall went from being pretty much a regular guy to becoming the city’s most eligible bachelor overnight. So, here he finds himself, taking a seat at his designated table, and taking a sip—no a swig—of the champagne in front of him.  There’s no way he’s going to get through this sober.

“Welcome to our second annual speed dating charity event!” The announcer’s voice booms through the speaker, just as five minutes is put on the large timer on the wall. “You will have five minutes to try to make your best impression on our handsome bachelors tonight. Remember, you paid for it, so make it worth it! Let the dating begin!”

Kendall takes one more swig for good measure, putting the glass down just as his first date sits down at the table across from him.

Here we go.

[camindierps]

Speed dating. Reneé couldn’t believe this was what her love life had come down to. She’d tried the dating apps, singles events, and even dished out money for those cheesy matchmaking services, but they were all the same. The men were either too pushy, too lazy, or just too damn weird for her taste. Reneé stepped into this place already armed with an excuse for why she’d have to leave early, that was until she saw him, Kendall Nash. She had followed his last trial religiously, it was the only thing she’d allow to play on the televisions in her salon for weeks. On tv he exuded professionalism, despite the women all over the city who were fawning over him. Admittedly, Reneé was one of them. He was well-educated, successful, and damn fine. Who wouldn’t want him?

When she realized she would be beginning this speed dating fiasco with Kendall, her nerves quickly set in. Her palms grew sweaty and she could feel her champagne glass slowly slipping out of her grip, taking this as a cue to get into her seat as fast as possible. She cleared her throat, tugging at the hem of her dress before taking her seat directly in front of Kendall. It was now or never. She gulped down her champagne, hoping liquid courage would do her some good before placing the now empty glass down on the table. “Hi. I’m Reneé.”

[maleahh]

Ryan Destiny at the Oscars Gold Party 2020

[raelynnnix]

[loveisliquor]

open to : fwb/ situationship  ?  find out more about amelie here! 

she feels him watching her wiggle her way into her jeans– there’s a lot of jumping–a lot writhing to ease the trousers over her hips– and she knows he likes the view. she buttons them easily–and she knows that they look painted on– that they hug every curve and dip perfectly. she slides on a crop top– and gives him a quick– brief smile. this is the last time he’ll get to have this view– her half dressed in his bedroom still flushed from the pleasure he’d pulled from her body– her– still half gone for him. 

“i’m done here.” 

she says it the way she’s practised, her delivery leaving no room for questioning– no room for getting her to change her mind. “i’m not fucking you on the down low– i don’t know if you’re daft enough to think i’m side chick material– if you’re too pussy to admit that you’re into fat girls– i don’t know why we’re still a secret– but– i’m not doing this any more. it feels too much like high school– so– it’s been fantastic. but i’d rather be with someone who treats me like– i’m good enough with the lights on too, you know?”  

[camindierps]

Brady watched Amelie jumping into her jeans, his eyes following every curve on her body. He thought she was absolutely stunning, and just watching her, it took everything in him not to pull her back into his bed. He lay there, his bedsheets covering his bare lower half as his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her voice. “Amelie —,” he started in but stopped to let her finish. He nodded his head as he listened to her, a light chuckle escaping his lips. “First of all, you’re beautiful. I don’t know how many times I have to say  that for you to understand.” He sat up against the headboard, his eyes still glued to her. “I don’t want a relationship with anyone. In the nicest way possible, you’re not special in that regard. I have nothing against you — or the way you look. Relationships aren’t my thing. Plain and simple.” Brady reached for his boxer briefs, which were all wrapped in the sheets that the two of them had manage to tangle up. He pulled them on, stumbling to his feet and walking over to his bedroom door, standing up against the frame. “You don’t have to leave.”

[thatbothersmeh]