#Terrell Owns

[magspy]

Three years of dnd character themed Halloween art

[vivelegalite]

dear dead boy detective (especially paynland) enjoyers: have you yet heard of the biggest gift bestowed upon the fandom so far, aka jayden's charles playlist? the one he mentioned in interviews? well, he dropped it on twitter at 19th of may. and man, do i have stuff to say about it.

there's a lot of 80's bangers, for sure, great to get into the mood and character, but some of the choices...

i'm gonna focus on a few of my favourites, songs that made me go insane when i saw them. honorable mentions: - category 1 (so devoted the lines blur): ain't no mountain high enough by marvin gaye and tammi terrell, there is a light that never goes out by the smiths, inkpot gods by the amazing devil - category 2 (family life): family line and summer child by conan gray, seventeen going under by sam fender, matilda by harry styles, father by the front bottoms - category 3 (being queer in the 80s): smalltown boy by bronski beat, boys don't cry by the cure - category 4 (there's no heterosexual explanation for this one): good luck, babe! by chappel roan, yellow by coldplay, fight or flight by conan gray (is this about monty? the cat king? i need answers!), the prophecy by taylor swift, arms tonite by mother mother, sweet by cigarettes after sex, head over heels by tears for fears

this list is by no means complete or comprehensive!

and now, the songs that made me go the craziest: (they're predominantly in charles' pov as it's his playlist)

found heaven by conan gray

the only reason this song made it into the list and not the honorable mentions instead of smalltown boy is that it makes almost the same point, just so much more explicitly. i don't think i have to say much about it, it's a story of a young person griping with their queerness, being forced to leave home, a common theme of the playlist. "you're in love, you found heaven" when he chose edwin over his own afterlife, heavily implied to be heaven, and built his heaven with him on the mortal plane? ouch! (and we see this same notion repeated in another bop from the playlist, heaven is a place on earth by belinda carlisle).

2. like real people do by hozier

"i miss kissing" charles rowland, 202X romantic meaning aside, the verses show a sort of a common understanding the boys have around the manner of their deaths and their lives before it. we already know from the show they don't really talk about it, with edwin not knowing about the severity of the abuse charles suffered. it feels like one of them saying "let the past be past, we're together now, yeah?". but also, jayden: can there ever be a platonic explanation for this? ghosts can't touch, can't feel, so they wish they could just kiss like "real" (alive?) people do?

3. flaws by bastille

not the most romantic song, but i absolutely love how well it fits their dynamic. despite his edwardian brand of repression, edwin truly is the one that's more open about his feelings (recognising of course that in this case, the bar is so low it's in hell. haha, get it). edwin has worn his flaws upon his sleeve, and charles has held them buried - eg. bottling up all of his anger and resentment towards his family and his own death. the song presents a very sweet outlook, in which their flaws are brought up to the surface (for example, charles' outburst against the night nurse in episode 4), but they learn to accept them as they are, an extension of themselves.

4. a pearl by mitski

you know it's gonna get intense if there's a mitski song in the mix.

the song is about a person who finds love in their partner, someone who treats them way better than they've ever been treated - and yet they cannot bring themselves to reciprocate the affection ("it's not that i don't want you, sorry i can't take your touch") despite reciprocating the feelings themselves because of the trauma. charles is known to bottle things up ("you're growing tired of me and all the things i don't talk about"). the person in the song recognises the love the other person holds for them ("you love me so hard and i still can't sleep"), which reminds me of charles' response to edwin's confession. not a "no", but a "maybe, as time passes".

5. fair by the amazing devil

this one made me genuinely gasp when i first delved into the lyrics. it's simply so sweet, such a genuine and domestic portrayal of love. at first i thought it was way too open about being a love song (normal text instead of the subtext i'd be used to) for jayden to choose it with edwin in mind, but... there's no one else it can really be about. it's far too domestic, too "established" to refer to crystal. refers to a relationship that's laster for a longer while.

the narrator in the first verse is a person deeply in love with the other person, someone who loves to make his lover laugh and simply drinks in their presence. the "he" in the song i believe is charles, while the "she" refers to edwin. edwin promises to fight off anyone - or any feelings pulling charles down (we can see this in the first episode: "you ever think... what if death did catch us? she'd force us to go to the afterlife and split up" "i will make sure this never happens."). charles feels left behind by the world (seeing as he clings to crystal at first, refering to her as "someone their age who's still alive") and believes edwin to be so much stronger than he's ever been. i'm not going to break down the song verse by verse, but if you read it yourself while subbing out "he" for charles and "she" for edwin you'll see just how sweet (and... strangely very in character?) the song is.

6. work song by hozier

if the previous song made me gasp when i saw the lyrics, this one made me go "NO WAY" out loud when i saw the title. the first one verse is just pure toothrotting sweetness, but the chorus is what i want to draw attention to:

when my time comes around lay me gently in the cold, dark earth no grave can hold my body down i'll crawl home to her

HELLO? charles, who keeps escaping death and afterlife to be able to stay with edwin? charles, as he literally takes his last breath with edwin right there, choosing to be by his side rather than move on? charles, who keeps choosing him despite night nurse's promises and threats? charles, who literally crawled through hell for him?

verse 2, to me, can be interpreted as referring to when charles died. edwin found him at his worst, and he "woke" up with his presence comforting him. he was shivering due to hypothermia and his injuries. edwin didn't ask him about what happened or pushed him, he simply listened. the lines "i didn't care much how long i lived, but I swear, i thought i dreamed her" are pretty self explanatory.

in verse 3 we still see the same attitude of "damn the afterlife, at least we have each other" as charles portrays througout the series. they're free, and heaven and hell are simply words to him.

7. orpheus by vincent lima

i literally have no words for this one. it fits too well. if you want commentary for this one, just... i don't know, rewatch the staircase scene.

8. francesca by hozier

(cracks knuckles) this is the big one. the album francesca is from, unreal unearth, is based on dante alighieri's divine comedy, a fourteenth century poem about a man venturing into hell, purgatory and eventually heaven. the eponymous francesca is one francesca di rimini, a woman who was politically married off to a man older than her, called giovanni malatesta. francesca didn't love him, and eventually fell deep in love with giovanni's younger brother, paolo. the two carried on with the affair for years, before being murdered by giovanni upon his finding out. francesca and paolo are mentioned in canto v of the first book, inferno, as two souls damned in the second circle of hell, lust. their punishment is to be permanently locked in a hurricane, swept away by the winds the moment they manage to get close enough to touch one another.

as opposed to their portrayal in the poem, the song is from the perspective of paolo, explaining that no matter the punishment, he wouldn't change anything about his life because he got to know, and love, francesca.

the first verse brings to mind the scenes in hell, especially on the staircase ("do you think I'd give up? that this might've shook the love from me? or that I was on the brink? how could you think, darlin', i'd scare so easily?" as an echo of charles' "sorry. no version of this where i didn't come get you"). "my life was a storm since i was born, how could i fear any hurricane?" could relate to charles' tumultuous family life, an assurance that nothing he has to deal with while by edwin's side will faze him given the things he's lived through. no, despite everything he's suffered through, charles wouldn't do anything differently - because his (admittedly shitty) life led him to edwin ("i'd tell them, put me back in"). we already know charles would choose him over heaven, willingly sacrificing his own afterlife to stay with a boy he's known for hours, someone kind enough to keep him company as he drew his final breath. all of it - his father's abuse, his schoolmates' bigotry, the pain of his own death, as well as everything he's gone through since - he'd do it all again, for edwin.

"for all that was said of where we'd end up at the end of it" could be taken as an allusion to the fate the boys would meet at "at the end of it", when they're finally caught by death and separated, or as more of a general "if you sin, you will go to hell when you die" (up to you to decide what the sin itself would be - an interpretation that would work with other songs on the playlist is that one such sin would be same sex attraction). then their hearts ceased, they never knew "peace", nor did they want to find it in death. their deaths were too soon, them being ripped away from life, but even though it would break his heart: charles would ask to do it all again.

the outro, i think, beautifully pulls it all together: heaven is not fit to house a love like theirs.

to wrap it all up:

jayden, what were you cooking in there? what do you know??

[bodyhopper-files]

Young, Hung and Ready to Fuck

“Oh yeah,” Terrell licked his lips hungrily and ran his fingers up and down the abs on his athletic young body. “Lookin’ good!”

The 44-year-old gay man had successfully used a mind-transferrence device to switch bodies with his 22-year-old nephew, Elijah. Standing in front of the mirror, Terrell flexed his muscles happily, admiring the solid sixpack he now called his own. His gaze then dropped to the impressive bulge in his underwear as he turned to the side.

"Damn," he muttered. He had forgotten how good it felt to be young, hung, and always ready to fuck!

Terrell, now Elijah, finally put his phone down and stopped taking pictures of himself, at least for the time being. He felt deeply satisfied knowing that Elijah's life was now his own, and from now on, he would be the one in control of Elijah's body and mind.

[the-poke-nebula]

"Listen, missy, my game fully released 4 years ago and I was 16 at the time, I'm 20 years old now and I know what you meant-"

Besides, he already went to school about biology, Leaf- don't be lewd.

"...Iiiii'm sure I don't even want to know what you're thinking."

[homunculus-argument]

Random worldbuilding from The Unfinished Book:

While there is no unified, clearly defined LGBT community, the people who would by our definition fall under that umbrella are heavily associated with religion. While the general cultural assumption is that everyone is at least a little bit bisexual - the idea that almost everyone hypothetically could encounter a woman so handsome or a man so beautiful that they'd go gay for them is aknowledged well enough to be a common theme in poetry and literature - being queer is more or less considered a way in which various gods "earmark" their own.

This is considered a matter beyond obvious - there are whole creation myths of how the gods who created the world grew annoyed about how all the humans they made were too busy having and raising their own children to properly focus on worshipping their gods or caring for society at large, so the gods saw fit to create people who would rather love their own sex, or not desire marriage or children at all, to ensure there are some whose hands and minds are free to focus more on the gods.

The Empire tolerates any and every religious practice that doesn't threaten the state, break other laws or cause public disturbance, so while there are some major gods whose temples are in almost every city, the pantheon of gods whose existence is aknowledged is essentially infinite. The churches, temple organisations and schools of various major gods, goddesses and ambiguous divine entities and their devoted priests and servants aren't simply there, but play a part in society and politics, as bankers, historians, librarians, curators, doctors and educators. Some run orphanages.

One big, major player in the field is the order of the Moon Goddess. They don't literally worship the moon, the moon is simply the symbol of the Goddess, whose realm is the perfect logic and structure of the universe, which cannot be touched or even properly comprehended by the fallible and imperfect human mind. Their philosophy is that there is no such thing as a question without an answer or a thing without purpose, and anything that appears so is simply beyond human grasp. While there are Moon Priestesses who aren't trans women, they are few and far between, and still less rare than trans women who aren't priestesses.

This is considered an example of how clear and logical the Moon Goddess is - the dysphoria of AMAB people is culturally regarded as them feeling a calling, a call that cannot be mistaken for anything else, a puzzle with one logical answer that they must personally find and embrace, which cannot be disputed by any mortal force, and can only be denied and repressed for so long by the Chosen Subject before they accept it. Becoming a Moon Priestess isn't an "I don't know what to do with my life so I might as well do this" choice in life, it was a choice that was made for you before you were born.

In the book, the protagonist encounters a trans man on his journey and they travel together for a while. After discovering the nature of how Terrel is, the protagonist isn't baffled by the idea that trans men exist at all - mainly he is unfathomably relieved that this small and boyish youth who drinks, gambles, fights, fucks and commits murder like a grown man is actually older than himself and not, like, thirteen - but astonished that Terrel isn't religious, and doesn't consider himself "chosen" by any god. He just is, and as far as he's concerned, the gods have nothing to do with it.

Also it suddenly makes a lot more sense that his name translates to "son of a hyena bitch", something that no woman would name her own child. He named himself, and his mother is a huge bitch.

[bluehome91]

B.T. Express (originally named Brooklyn Transit Express) was an American funk/disco group, that had a number of successful songs during the 1970s.

The group was part of the "Brooklyn sound" of the early 1970s, formed from three players of the group King Davis House Rockers. The House Rockers were a local dance band who had released a couple of obscure singles (1967's "We All Make Mistakes Sometimes" on Verve Records, 1972's "Rum Punch") The three players (guitarist Richard Thompson, tenor sax player Bill Risbrook, and alto sax player Carlos Ward) formed Madison Street Express along with bassist Louis Risbrook (later Muslim-monickered Jamal Rasool), percussionist Dennis Rowe, drummer Terrell Wood, and vocalist Barbara Wood. They along with producer Jeff Lane signed with production company Roadshow Records to record writer Billy Nichols "Do It ('Til You're Satisfied)." The record was shopped around to major labels until it was accepted at Scepter Records. Scepter suggested the group change its name from Madison Street Express, hence the Brooklyn Transit Express. The single was released in August 1974, and reached the top 10. Lane took the group back into the studios at that point to record a second single and pitch a full album to the label. Scepter agreed to the LP and to Roadshow Records having its own label within Scepter Records.

The first two singles were hits, both number 1 R&B releases and both Top 5 pop singles in the US. The album hit number 1 on the R&B album chart and number 5 on the Pop album chart of the US. These recordings were also hits in the spreading disco culture, "Do It" peaking on club playlists before Billboard started a separate disco chart, but the follow-up single sat for five weeks at number 1. They were certified gold releases.

BT Express released an album per year through 1978. With the third album, Leslie Ming was brought in as drummer and keyboardist Michael Jones was added as keyboardist. Jamal, who had converted to the Muslim faith, gave Jones the name Kashif Saleem, which he used after departing the group, in 1979, to pursue producing ("Mighty M Productions" with Morrie Brown and Paul Laurence Jones) and solo recording ventures. That year songwriter Billy Nichols and drummer Leslie Ming also departed the group. In 1976 Scepter records was experiencing business difficulties that soon ended the company, and BT Express was given a distribution deal with Columbia Records, which, though it gave them greater exposure, resulted in less attention being paid to their production, since they had so many acts to concentrate on. The group did not achieve the level of radio or sales success on Columbia that they had on the more nurturing but by-then defunct Scepter. They stayed with Columbia for five years, with Lane producing through 1978, then Nichols producing their fifth album before he departed for solo work, and Morrie Brown producing the sixth LP and several follow-up tracks. The group switched labels to Coast To Coast Records for the 1982 LP, to Earthtone Records for a later 1982 single, and to manager King Davis' own label in 1985.

[dizziedupthegirl]

. dizzie's xmen dr: rhemlyn; a playlist .

rhemlyn; a nickname, or ship name for eclipse and gambit.

rem = remy, rh & lyn = rhylyn

just like the first playlist post i made, but this time with songs that remind me of me and rem + lyrics! 🫶

ma belle evangeline. princess and the frog soundtrack; *insert trumpet solo here*

🎵

closer. better than ezra; "until he opens up his eyes and the angels all look down. even closer than this life, closer than your faith. closer than the things that you hold dearly and in vain. closer than this life, falling through again. giving more than anything that you could hope to win"

🎵

let love in. the goo goo dolls; "you smile hiding behind a God-given face. but I know you're so much more everything they ignore, is all that I need to see. you're the only one I ever believed in. the answer that could never be found. the moment you decided to let love in. now I'm banging on the door of an angel, the end of fear is where we begin the moment we decided to let love in."

🎵

cry to me. solomon burke; "when you're all alone in your lonely room and there's nothing but the smell of her perfume.a-don't you feel like a-cryin'? a-don't you feel like cryin'? a-don't you feel like a-cryin'? a-come on, come on, cry to me, whoa! nothing can be sadder than a glass of wine alone. loneliness, loneliness, such a waste of your time, oh yes you don't ever have to walk alone, you see a-come on, take my hand, and baby, won't you walk with me?"

🎵 here in my arms. leon bridges; "she says nobody wants her but left along. she said nobody needs her girl, you are. well, if you see her tell her there is room for her, in my arms, in my arms. you don't have to go, you should know, I'll be there for you, when you're alone to comfort you. oh, baby please, come where it's warm. in my arms, in my arms"

🎵

at last. etta james: "at last, my love has come along. my lonely days are over and life is like a song. oh, yeah, yeah. at last, the skies above are blue. my heart was wrapped up in clover, the night I looked at you."

🎵

my heart. paramore; "sing us a song and we'll sing it back to you. we could sing our own, but what would it be without you. this heart, it beats. beats for only you. this heart, it beats. beats for only you, oooh. this heart, it beats beats for only you, my heart is yours"

🎵

unchained melody. the righteous brothers; "woah, my love, my darling, I've hungered for your touch. a long, lonely time, and time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much. are you still mine? I need your love, I need your love. God speed your love to me. lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea. to the open arms of the sea, yeah. lonely rivers sigh "wait for me, wait for me" I'll be coming home, wait for me."

🎵

ain't no mountain high enough. marvin gaye & tammi terrell; "my love is alive (woo) way down in my heart, although we are miles apart. if you ever need a helping hand, i'll be there on the double just as fast as I can. don't you know that there, ain't no mountain high enough. ain't no valley low enough. ain't no river wide enough, to keep me from getting to you, babe"

hehe i love remy <3

~

asks are always open! pick from a prompt here, or here, or here! and all my drs can be found here 🥰

[bitchb0ybunny]

Lil Captain Price headcanons..

because this man is living in my head rent-free..

-Price definitely listens to old-ish music, not because he's old, the man is only like 38 (maybe like 42, but still), but because it's what he grew having his parents play. Elvis Presley? Yessir, he listens to Devil In Disguise at least once a day, typically in the morning when he needs a pick-me-up while waiting for his morning tea to steep. It reminds him of his mum. Another one of his favorites, more from his own time but still considered older, is Ain't No Mountain High Enough by Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell.. I Second That Emotion by Smokey Robinson & The Miracles is also something on his morning playlist, and his workout playlist.

-Price definitely is the type of person to, if given the chance, adore having kids around. Definitely a family man in secret, really wants to settle down with someone and have a couple kids, but gave up on that after becoming a Captain for the 141 for two reasons. One, he's too busy to be there for anyone and too confidential to form bonds (trust me, he's tried when he was younger), so relationships have never worked out and he'd never have time to keep up with his kids if he had any. And two, he's too scared for their safety. If someone found out that Johnathan Price, Captain of Task Force 141, had kids..? It wouldn't go well for anyone. His family could he used to blackmail him or something, and he wasn't about to let that happen. Not over his dead body.

-Price definitely likes to dance, but with his injuries and sore muscles from the military he doesn't get to dance that much anymore.. Doesn't have the time, either. His Mum and Dad probably taught him dances from their days, like swing dances, but also had him enrolled in either a waltzing class or a salsa class when he was in secondary school.. Dancing classes definitely made him popular with the ladies at School dances, which leads me into my next headcanon-

-Price was definitely a ladies man when he was younger, before he got all grumpy because of the military. Had women fawning over him when he was younger, had a few people call him a "Lady stealer" because of how polite and romantic he was with everyone, was a huge flirt in his youth.. He still has it, lots of women nowadays love a rugged man like him, but he doesn't use his flirtin skills anymore. Most he'll give it a smile that flashed his teeth, that were definitely just ever-so-slightly stained from his excessive consumption of black teas, or a bit of a mildly suggestive comment if he thought the person was really pretty.. Or if he really wanted a discount at the shops. In his later years, he discovered that he doesn't really care what gender someone is as long as he thinks they're attractive and nice, he'll flirt with just about anyone if they're cute enough (or if he wants a discount bad enough).

-Price has a nice singing voice, but doesn't sing often. It's soft, definitely like the type of music he listens to, and will often mumble-sing along to songs he particularly likes whenever he hears them. Doesn't matter if he's in a public space or not, it just keeps him occupied and helps him focus a little better.

Because of that,

-Price definitely listens to music while doing paperwork. He'll be sat at his desk, filing a report on a mission, listening to Wichita Lineman by Glen Campbell or Please, Mr. Postman by The Marvelettes, or something along those lines. Mumbling along to the lyrics softly, sometimes getting a little carried away and ending up singing along just loud enough for someone outside to hear his voice muffled by the music from his speakers.

"And I need you more than want you.. And I want you for all time, and the Wichita lineman.. is still on the line~"

[sapphicbookclub]

The Stars and the Blackness Between Them by Junauda Petrus

Trinidad. Sixteen-year-old Audre is despondent, having just found out she’s going to be sent to live in America with her father because her strictly religious mother caught her with her secret girlfriend, the pastor’s daughter. Audre’s grandmother Queenie (a former dancer who drives a white convertible Cadillac and who has a few secrets of her own) tries to reassure her granddaughter that she won’t lose her roots, not even in some place called Minneapolis. “America have dey spirits too, believe me,” she tells Audre.

Minneapolis. Sixteen-year-old Mabel is lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out why she feels the way she feels–about her ex Terrell, about her girl Jada and that moment they had in the woods, and about the vague feeling of illness that’s plagued her all summer. Mabel’s reverie is cut short when her father announces that his best friend and his just-arrived-from-Trinidad daughter are coming for dinner.

Mabel quickly falls hard for Audre and is determined to take care of her as she tries to navigate an American high school. But their romance takes a turn when test results reveal exactly why Mabel has been feeling low-key sick all summer and suddenly it’s Audre who is caring for Mabel as she faces a deeply uncertain future.

Genres: contemporary, romance

Order from Blackwell's and get free worldwide shipping!

Listen to the book on audiobooks.com here!

[fifthgazelle]

songs i would write a fight scene to

think the umbrella academy soundtrack. as in songs from all over the timeline. MUST be danceable. parameters established. 1. happy idiot (tv on the radio)

2. new body rhumba (lcd soundsystem)

3. na na na (my chemical romance)

4. fell in love with a girl (the white stripes)

5. here's the thing (sports team)

6. atom bomb baby (the five stars)

7. uptown girl (billy joel)

8. ain't no mountain high enough (marvin gaye and tammi terrell)

9. texas (jeffrey lewis)

10. get inspired (genesis owusu)

11. bummer time (be your own pet)

12. pedestrian at best (courtney barnett)

13. bitch theme (bratmobile)

14. heads will roll (yeah yeah yeahs)

15. pissed punks (peter & the test tube babies)

[magspy]

Day 11 of OCtober: symbolism/themes

What better picture to share than this old piece of my aasimar lady together with her brother

The main themes of their story are family and prejudice.

Backstory:

Andraste Terrell was born in Luskan, as the first child of a human nurse and a half-elf paladin. She was born as an aasimar, which her father viewed as a gift from the God Torm, for his services. Three years later, her brother Dievas was born. Their father left soon after, convinced that Dievas’ tiefling heritage was their mother’s fault and that she must have already corrupted Andraste as well. Working herself to exhaustion to take care of the siblings, their mother soon became very ill and died when Andraste was only seventeen.

After this, Andraste began to take care of her brother, but, not knowing why he left them, Dievas wished to go looking for their father. Resenting their father for leaving, Andraste did not want to go, so the two siblings started to argue. During the argument, in a sudden outburst, Andraste told Dievas that he is the reason their father left, causing him to become upset and set out to find him on his own. Not expecting to see him ever again, Andraste started to train and eventually joined the city guard in Neverwinter, quickly rising in their ranks, but Dievas would come back into her life soon enough.

Investigating a break-in, Andraste had finally cornered one of the thieves, only to discover that it was actually her brother. Feeling like it’s her fault that Dievas went down the wrong path, she found herself unable to arrest him. The other guards arrived just in time to watch him escape. Lucky to only get fired from the guard for aiding in the escape of a criminal, Andraste made a decision. She would help him back on the right path, but Dievas had already left town and she didn’t know where he went.

During the campaign:

Andraste does find her brother and the organization he works for, and has to grapple with the fact that Dievas is the better adjusted one between the two of them, and has done more to help the community through his work, than she has by working with the city guard. In the end, it's Dievas who helps her.

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 VI

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Sorry if this one came out “quick.” I got excited.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets.

TW // Curse.

Going to the store was physically hard to go to without Hydra following me. His purrs, and coos trying to beg me to stay with him on the bed a little moment longer. His lips tickling my neck while I playfully swatted at him.

“I'll come back soon, and I’ll make your favorite!” I bargained with the touched staved Astartes, shimming out of his embrace.

A whine left him, but he didn’t pursue. Instead, he plopped back in the bed like a starfish with his legs hanging off the bed. A big sigh coming out of him.

“Oh you’ll live.” I laughed, getting my shoes on, using the archway for support. Oblivious to the moving Astartes.

I would have spent more time in bed with the cuddly Alpha Legion since he came back from one of his weekly trips, but basic living calls and now, I got a Hydra to feed.

Where did I put my jacket?

“Hydra!” I yelped, jumping in his hold as he lifted me up, his teeth nipping at my neck while he rumbled with laughter. “Put me down!”

-

A huff escaped me while I got out of my car. Wondering when the person that I’ve hired would come out and stock my home pantry. They should have been here a week ago.

It wasn’t like I couldn’t do my own shopping, but my secondary income came from my streaming. So sometimes, I just don’t have the time to do any heavy weighted shopping.

Walking through the sliding doors of the grocery store. I was greeted by the manager today. His head simply nodded at me in a greeting while he checked out another person’s groceries.

Giving a nod in return, I grabbed a basket, and made my way around the store. Grabbing things that could last me for about a week with Hydra included.

Grabbing a jar of spaghetti sauce, and heading over to the meat aisle. I remembered meeting Hydra here when he was trying to eat the raw meat here, looking like a mucky lost soul.

I hummed, the memory brought a smile to my lips as that event only happened only a year and a half ago. My dude almost ate a roll of raw meat.

Shaking my head, I put the roll of meat into my basket, and headed for the bakery. Picking up a baguette to make some garlic bread with the spaghetti before heading over to the cashier.

“How we doin’ today?” The manager asked, scanning the items I took out of my basket.

“Just getting stuff for week.” I responded, fiddling with my wallet to get my card out of it’s pocket.

“That so?” He questioned, stashing my items into a plastic bag.

“Uh yeah, I thought you only supervised?” I questioned him back.

“Eh, ‘rom time to time.” He said. “$52.67, please.”

Using my card on the reader. I typed in my PIN, and waited for it to beep before taking it out. Rushing over to get my bags.

“Be careful out there al’right?” He warned, already scanning another person’s grocery’s.

“Will do Mr. Terrel!” I shouted at him before I left the store, the doors sliding closed behind me.

Rain hit my face while I made my way over to my car, my hands struggling to find the car keys in my pocket.

Getting my grip on them, I pushed the button, and unlocked the car. Hurriedly stashing the groceries in the front passenger seat.

Shutting the door, I caught a glimpse of bright blue glowing in an alleyway. Doubling back, the blue glow was still there, staring.

The hairs and the back of my neck suddenly stood up as me, and this glowing visor had a stare down.

They didn’t seem to be threatening, but only one with a horrible sense of survival skills would even dare to approach such towering visor.

They took a step out. Silver, and gold drawing the elements of their armor. The rain washing away at them.

Oh, sh*t.

—

Oh she smelled so sweet, so savory, but she smelled like another.

Another who scent is all over her. Another that claimed her before I did. Another that I do not see. Another who is not providing truly.

Another whose death would not go unnoticed.

ℕ𝕖𝕩𝕥 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣: 𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 VII

ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣: 𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 V

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥: “𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗” 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕷𝖎𝖘𝖙

[wikiweird]

Bucket of Blood Street is located off U.S. Route 66 in the Old Downtown district of Holbrook, Arizona. Bucket of Blood Street is one block south of the historical Santa Fe Railroad station on Navajo Road that was built in 1882. Holbrook was founded in the 1880s as a railroad stop. At the time, the desert town was mainly populated by ranchers, outlaws, cowboys and cattle rustlers, and was known for its gun fights. Holbrook had a reputation as a "town too tough for women and churches".

Terrell's Cottage Saloon had existed on the street for years before coming to be known as Bucket of Blood Saloon, after a violent fight took place resulting in the death of two men. The saloon was popular with cowboys and ruffians; fistfights and gunfights often broke out there. The year 1886 was a particularly violent one and the town lost about ten percent of its population. A fight broke out at the saloon during a card game between rival cattle rustlers, including wranglers from the Hashknife Outfit of the Aztec Land and Cattle Company. The result of the fight was described as though a bucket of blood had been spilled on the floor.

A newspaper account describes another event on January 19, 1896, when the proprietor of the saloon shot and killed two men playing cards: "Suddenly a dispute arose and angry words passed between them." The manager of the saloon, Harry Donnelly, used a revolver to force another man, George C. Hiatt, a barber, into the street and shot him "through the heart" in front of the town drug store. Donnelly was arrested by Deputy Sheriff Hofford who was acting as the county sheriff, as Commodore Perry Owens was out of town at the time. The newspaper report claims that when the widow Hiatt heard the news she fell "lifeless to the floor". The saloon was owned at the time by F. J. Wattron, however Donnelly managed it.

Albert F. Potter's memoir, written around 1888, describes the events leading to the name Bucket of Blood somewhat differently. He wrote of participating in a "roundup on the Little Colorado River range … 12 miles east of Holbrook." At sunrise two horsemen were seen riding towards his party from the direction of Holbrook. One man shouted, "Here we come! All shot to pieces." The head of the other man was wrapped in bloody bandages covering a serious wound. Potter went on to write: "We recognized them as Joe Crawford, a cowboy who had worked for the Aztec Land and Cattle Company known as the Hashknife Outfit, and George Bell, a gambler. Crawford was so weak [from his wounds] that he had to be lifted from the horse he was riding. We laid him on the horse wrangler's bed and with a handful of flour from the cook's bread pan I plastered the wound on his head and stopped the bleeding. Examination showed that a bullet had also passed through the cuff of his shirt and coat sleeve, and just grazed the side of his body. Scars of other old wounds showed that this was not Crawford's first fight."

Potter then describes Bell's involvement in an incident during a card game with a man named Ramon Lopez, during which Lopez struck Crawford in the head with his six-shooter gun. Crawford retaliated by drawing his gun and killing Lopez. Shooting then broke out in the saloon, and Crawford killed another man, after which "Crawford and Bell then made their getaway". Potter went on to write that he believed Joe Crawford "was in fact Grat Dalton, a member of the notorious Dalton Gang of outlaws who was later killed during an attempted bank robbery at Coffeyville, Kansas". Potter concluded that this was the backstory to the naming of Bucket of Blood Saloon.

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[★] ᵈᵒʷⁿˡᵒᵃᵈ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰᵉᵈ!

FILE PATH ↬ THAP1NKBL0G ↬ MASTERLIST ↬ [＃] P1NKYSH0TS

ᵐᵉᵗᵃᵈᵃᵗᵃ: keith powers [male!oc] x saweetie [female!oc], 18+, third person ᵈᵃᵗᵉ ᵐᵒᵈⁱᶠⁱᵉᵈ: 8/18/22 ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ: 10,937 ᵖ¹ⁿᵏʸ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ: i had an idea of a spinoff/au for one of the books i was writing at the time. i wrote this in 2022, practicing writing in third person. originally posted on wattpad, lol.

❝𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐦𝐫. 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧.❞

❝𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐣𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞.❞

The energy tonight was potent, thick with the seductive, sensual energy that filled the club. Blue and silver confetti, and green dollar bills rained from the sky, covering the floor while lights flashed across the club, bathing everybody in hues of blue, while the crowd swayed unpredictably like a tsunami wave. It was fierce, tugging at you as you entered, beckoning to rope you into the cesspool of sexual tension and lust that was only fueled by constantly flowing drinks, given to patrons by scantily clad bottle girls who rushed from table to table with big bottles of various alcohols, while dancers dressed in next to nothing, and even nothing at all, spun about the poles on the main stage, luring men in just like a siren’s song. 

This kind of activity wasn’t unusual for Club Crystal - but tonight was different. To those tucked away in the comfort of their homes, eyes shut peacefully away from Atlanta’s fast-paced nightlife, it was any regular Friday.  It was the end of a long work week, and the start of a shorter weekend filled with relaxing and running errands. But depending on who you asked, tonight as a special occasion, one for the history books, a complete blowout. 

Tonight was 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐥. 

Not to be confused with any fairytale, it was the fifth anniversary of the day Club Crystal officially opened its doors to the public. The Crystal Ball wasn’t just any regular Atlanta event - each year, it got bigger and better, and each year, the theatrics doubled, tripled in size. Beyond the double doors of Atlanta’s newest strip club, right on the old soil where Follies once stood, cars were doing burnouts in the parking lot, and if you paid a pretty penny, you could get what they called “A Crystal Flush” - where you and your car could come out squeaky clean - if you held onto your morals and dignity once you made it out on the other side. If you made it out on the other side. 

And in the middle of it all, surrounded by the smoke, reverberated, bass boosted music and buzzing, energizing sensation that seemed to drip and ooze from the four walls of the club was 𝐓𝐲𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧. 

And the friends that had dragged him along tonight. 

“Ooh, I love this shit!”

Sipping - or in his brother’s words - babysitting the Don Julio reposado that filled his glass, he slouched back against the couch, the black leather supporting his back, giving way for his shoulders to sink in. Terrell was like a kid in a candy store, flinging money over the balcony, the crisp, thin sheets of blue faced, hundred dollar bills slipping through his fingers, raining money down on the people below them. With the force and speed that he kept throwing, Tyree would’ve figured his arm would’ve popped out of socket by now. 

Tyree sighed, checking his phone, looking for any signs of life from his fiancee. It was probably the tenth time he had checked his phone already, and he had nothing to show for the hour that had passed aside from the picture on his lock screen that stared back at him, and wasted time. His battery was dying - his phone and his social battery, but the party around him continued on, his friends blowing through stacks of money without a care in the world. 

From where he was sitting, he could see the hosts for tonight’s event - Future and 21 Savage -  throwing racks of their own, surrounded by an entourage of security guards, who enclosed them like a human cage - dressed in all black and ready to go if something unsavory was to happen. Bottle girls dressed in black glitter leotards slid in between the security guards, bringing over bottle after bottle for Atlanta’s own royalty. 

“Oh my god, nigga she’s not gonna text you back, she’s doing her own shit.” 

RC plopped down next to him, tucking a stack of ones into the front pocket of his olive green Chrome Hearts hoodie. He peeked over Tyree’s shoulder, kissing his teeth at the blank lock screen that illuminated their faces. He attempted to pull the phone from Tyree’s hands, but Tyree tilted his wrist just out of reach from RC’s hands. 

“I’m just checking on her.”

“You in a club full of bad bitches, sitting mere feet from Future, and you worried about Michelle? Damn, Terrell was right.” 

“The fuck you mean Terrell was right, Julius?” 

Tyre scrunched his face up, which only made RC grin, practically from ear to ear. RC leaned in close so Tyree could hear him, the sounds of Future’s Freak Hoe thumping from the speakers, making it hard to hear the person next to you - let alone hear yourself think.  

“That you one pussy whipped motherfucker. You changed, nigga.” 

“I’m not listening to a nigga who’s still out here chasing hoes.” 

“At least I’m having fun. You over here checking your phone like you waiting for some STD results or some shit.” 

“You the last nigga I’m finna let talk to me like that. Didn’t you have the clap? Twice?”

“It was once! And fuck you, I told you that shit because I trusted you, you Ronnie DeVoe looking bitch.”

RC’s not-so subtle British accent rolled off his tongue, his words like daggers, piercing the surface of Tyree’s emotions. Any other time, Tyree would’ve been able to ignore it. But this time was different. He felt different. 

Tonight was supposed to be a night of celebrations, yet Tyree was stuck. Trapped. He was supposed to be happy, yet all he could think about was how time was ticking down for him. He was venturing into unknown territory - the hours counting down, leading up to the inevitable moment where he was no longer a boyfriend, a fiance. He was going to be someone’s husband. Tonight was supposed to be his last hurrah before he had to buckle down and get his mind on straight. Yet, his mind was completely elsewhere. And RC’s playful teasing wasn’t making it any better. RC didn’t know, or maybe he did, but all it did was make Tyree think about what he was walking into. 

Like he wasn’t thinking about it enough, already. 

The hours were counting down, leading up until the moment where he was going to be walking down the aisle, but the more he thought about it, the more the nagging voice in the back of his head picked at him. The more the nerves set in, the more his stomach twisted in knots, and the knot in his chest only grew larger. He didn’t know exactly why he felt like that - I mean it was natural to feel nervous right? To feel like you’d fall to pieces? 

But for some reason, Tyree couldn’t shake that it was a symptom of something bigger. Way bigger than just nerves. Bigger than just “cold feet”. Shit, he was feeling frigid. Like a sheet of ice floating in the Antarctic Ocean. Ice fucking cold. 

And he didn’t want to think about that. 

“Nigga, you still got that damn glass in your hand?” 

Leaving his spot at the balcony, Terrell sat down next to Tyree, the expensive, yet popular scent of Dior’s Sauvage cologne following behind him. Dressed to impress in a white and navy blue designer polo shirt, his brother’s heavily tattooed arms were exposed, his brother’s flashy style only amplified by the gigantic, diamond, two-tone cuban link chain around his neck, and the diamond Rolex watch that reflected the lights that flashed above them. From the moment they walked in, Terrell had all eyes on him, gathering attention from everybody they walked past, his personality and demeanor attracting them like moths to a flame. As bottled girls flooded their section with what seemed like endless rounds of drinks, they made sure to be extra nice to Terrell, his charismatic personality and the money he flashed making them swoon. 

“No, this is my-”

“Oh cut the cap nigga, you been sitting there like one of them bronze ass statues for the past hour.” 

Reaching for a drink glass of his own, Terrell poured himself a drink from the slender, tall bottle of 1942, clinking it against Tyree’s glass. 

“For a nigga who’s getting married, you sure acting like you going to a funeral instead.”

“This just isn’t my kind of scene, and you know that.” 

“So? Michelle ain’t here - the fuck is she finna do? Besides, this is your last blowout, man. You already know Michelle’s gonna keep you locked down once you tie the knot.”

Tyree watched as Terrell brought the glass to his lips, tossing back the liquid in the glass without even a second thought. He didn’t even wince as he placed the cup back down on the round, glass table, amongst all the other bottles of liquor and empty cups and glasses that took up space on the small surface, surrounding an ice bucket that sat in the middle of the table. 

But even though Terrell was putting on a larger than life, excited persona for everybody else, Tyree could see straight through it. It was in the way he was looking at him - worried, confused. Apprehensive. 

But that wasn’t new, especially from Terrell. He had been against Tyree marrying Michelle from the moment he saw the forty-thousand dollar engagement ring on her finger. 

 “I can’t believe you’re getting fucking married.”

And in all honesty - Tyree couldn’t believe he was getting married, either. It wasn’t that he had anything against getting married, no, never. He wasn’t afraid of commitment, shit, he wanted to settle down. He already did all the late night hookups, spending thousands of dollars on women he knew it wouldn’t work out with. He had been the boyfriend, the ex boyfriend, the side nigga, friends with benefits - and he was tired of the drama and mess that had came with it. And in his line of work, you needed a partner to keep your secrets. Someone that you could trust. 

But even with all of that, he never saw himself getting married so soon. It sounded good on paper. Perfect, actually. Something that would be the final puzzle pieces to his life. 

But he was only getting older, and his hand was practically forced due to the revelation that Michelle thought she was pregnant. The two of them had been talking about having kids lately, but he didn’t think she was completely serious. And with the way things were going, a better time for things didn’t seem to be stretching over the horizon for him. This was as good as it was going to get. 

But if you asked Terrell - it was a bunch of bullshit to him. He had always been critical of Michelle, even more so now that she was going to become part of the family. The two of them never really got along in the first place, so it wasn’t surprising to Tyree that Terrell was overly critical of their relationship. Michelle thought Terrell was an asshole, and she wasn’t afraid to tell him what she thought about him - which never failed to start all their arguments. And since Terrell wasn’t one to back down, he’d come in quick with telling her how she was a “stuck up, judgemental, spoon fed -” which by then Tyree would usually step in and break them up. 

“Well believe it, cause it’s happening.” 

Terrell rolled his eyes, nudging Tyree’s arm. 

“Well if you’re gonna leave me by myself, the least you could do is drink. You know how expensive all this shit was?”

“Again, I ain’t ask you to do this.”

“Fuck you. It’s a celebration for you. The least your stone cold ass could do is try to enjoy yourself.”

“I’m sick and tired of hearing y’all niggas’ mouths. Fine, whatever.” 

And with a little extra peer pressure from his brother, Tyree finished the drink in his glass, and gulped down the next shot Terrell had poured for him. He downed the next round of shots they all had prepared when Dominic rejoined the group, covered in glitter and lipgloss. And while Tyree decided against asking what mess he had gotten himself into, RC made a toast. 

 “To Tyree, that nigga is all grown up!”

And as the the dark liquor coursed through his veins, Tyree couldn’t help but find himself sucked into the enticing, sexual ambiance that radiated throughout the club, slowly tugging, perminating on his mental. His friends were right - this was his last night before he had to buckle down and fly straight. They were celebrating him, and who was he to refuse? His brother didn’t do all of this for it to go to waste, and it was all in the name of “celebration”. 

That’s what he was supposed to be doing, right? 

All of his worries and the barrage of thoughts about his upcoming wedding, and the pressure he was feeling seemed to fade away with a few drinks, beautiful bottle girls flooding their section with overpriced bottles of liquor, topped off with sparklers while strippers dressed in hues of pastel blues and white danced against them, money beginning to litter the floor beneath their feet. He could feel the booming, fast paced beats in his chest, the melodic tune of Lil Baby and Gunna’s Never Recover echoing throughout the club as the DJ and patrons below them recited the lyrics on time and without missing a beat. 

“Throw that fucking money! We know y’all got it!”

Turning his attention from the conversation he was having with Dominic, the DJ’s loud voice in his ears announced the next set of dancers on the stage, only catching one of their names before the horns and explosion sounds gave way to the next song in the queue.

“Shit..these bitches ain’t no fucking joke!”

As Dominic threw fistfuls of money with no rhyme or reason, Tyree found his eyes glued to the girls that twirled around the pole, the duo dressed in matching, soft blue monokinis. The strappy, barely there outfits stretched over their curves, the rhinestones that adorned the straps twinkling as the light as they spun around, their bodies gliding around the pole. His eyes followed their movements, bouncing between the two of them as they put him in a trance. Mimi, a beautiful girl with long, blonde hair in layers that framed her face, garnered his attention initially, his eyes catching the vibrant colored floral tattoo on her thigh. 

Money burned a hole in his pocket, the intensity of the flames only getting hotter as the other girl on stage caught his attention, his eyes and head following her movements as she climbed up the top of the pole.  The other girl, with caramel skin and curly, black hair that flowed over her shoulder ascended the pole with ease, the platforms of her heels flickering with white light as she contorted her body around the sleek, silver metal pole. Her hair slightly obstructed her face as she spun around upside down, approaching the bottom of the stage quickly, but stopping short before she hit the floor, dangling upside down. Her precise, but graceful movements were hypnotizing, complemented by the money flying in her direction, and hands reaching out from her from around the stage. 

“Go on, throw it. You know you want to. I know you see something you like.” 

Like a devil on his shoulder, Terrell egged him on, squeezing his shoulders as the two of them watched the mystery girl captivate her audience below. Terrell tossed his own stacks of money towards her, and soon Tyree followed suit, the bills slipping from his fingers, raining down on the people below. First went one thousand, then another, and another, free falling throughout the sky, the four men’s bankrolls blanketing the club like a flurry of rain. It just kept coming, and the more Tyree drank, the more money left his pocket - and he didn’t give a fuck where it was going. 

As far as he was concerned, he had already spent a shitload of money on a wedding - funding six college tuitions wasn’t going to put a dent in his pocket. 

“Aye, Tyree!”

Getting Tyree’s attention was Terrell and RC, who dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder. The two of them were well past drunk - well at least RC was anyway, who swayed from side to side like a pendulum, slurring his words. Julius stumbled over his feet as he walked past them, bumping into Tyree on his way to the couch, where he dove face first into the cushions. One of the dancers, who he recognized as Mimi, sat down next to him, propping his face into her lap as she handed him a cup of water. 

“That nigga is done for.”

“You think? Anyways, I got someone I want you to meet.” 

He watched as Terrell waved over a beautiful dark skin girl, dressed in a similar outfit to all the other dancers Tyree had seen running around tonight. Terrell wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and the woman introduced herself as Fancy, whose voice was smooth, and sultry, with a pretty smile to match. Her burgundy red hair complimented her skin tone, and she looked him up and down, her eyes lingering on the Audemars Piguet watch that adorned Tyree’s wrist. It was almost like she was analyzing him, and even though he stood taller than her, she kept consistent eye contact with him. 

“You ready for your dance?”

“Uh, I didn’t order a dance.”

Tyree’s face twisted up in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together. Fancy kissed her teeth, rolling her eyes as she looked between the set of twins, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah you did, remember?”

“I-”

“Well someone paid five stacks for a dance - either of yall finna let that go to waste?” 

Tyree already knew that this was Terrell’s doing, judging by the stupid, slick grin across his face, and the laugh that came from him. It was just like Terrell to set him up like this - he was always getting the two of them in trouble, and this was just another one of the tricks Terrell kept up his sleeves at all times.

“Five?”

“Pocket change, really.”

Terrell shrugged, unbothered that he just spent someone’s down payment on a car in record breaking time. 

Before Tyree had time to object, Terrell was already pushing in the direction of the stairs, Fancy grabbing the front of his white Heron Preston shirt, the fabric pinched between her well manicured index finger and thumb. With Terrell following behind them, Fancy grabbed his hand, leading them through the stuffed crowd of people, packed in together like sardines, nearly taking up all the space and breathing room available. Tyree couldn’t even run if he wanted to - there was nowhere for him to go, and with the firm grip Fancy had on his hand, she definitely wasn’t going to let him get away. Not a chance.

They finally came out on the other side of the crowd at the private rooms, which was a long hallway with a set of doors fixed into the walls on either side. An LED sign hung overhead, reading “The Jewelry Store”, in bright blue, cursive letters, and underneath stood two security guards that blocked the entrance. Dressed in all black, they both stood tall, with their chests puffed out, and stoic, frigid expressions across their faces as their eyes scanned everybody that walked past them. 

One was dressed in a black shirt and vest, with a gun holstered to his hip, while the other had a well detailed scorpion tattooed on his neck, white light that briefly swept over their side of the club allowing Tyree to see the intricate shading and linework of the ink. They looked Tyree, Fancy, and Terrell up and down, giving their sole attention to Fancy who leaned up on her tip-toes to speak to them. 

While they talked, Tyree looked around, feeling a wave of uneasiness wash over him. Sure, he had been in strip clubs before, dragged along because of Terrell, but never had he done anything like this. This spelled out trouble, big trouble, and he knew that if Michelle knew what he was doing, he'd never hear the end of it. 

But deep down, way deep down inside, part of him was curious. Where this curiosity came from, he didn’t know, but it kept him from walking away, keeping his feet firmly planted in place. 

With one last, analyzing, throughout stare before unhooking the gate, the guards gave their approval to the group, one of them joining the walk as Fancy led the way down the hallway, which seemed to stretch on forever to Tyree. The music was much quieter, and subdued in this part of the club, and Tyree could hear their footsteps as Fancy brought them to their destination, her heels clacking against the concrete floor, the shimmery silver tassels on her heels shaking back and forth as she walked. 

“Here you go.”

“What?”

Pushing him towards the door, Tyree went bursting through the door, nearly sent flying into the room by Terrell. 

“Have fun. She won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Terrell-”

Tyree could feel the wind from the door closing against his face as he stood there in complete confusion, reaching for the door before it swung back into the door frame, leaving him alone in the room - or so he thought. 

“First time?” 

Caught off guard from the sudden voice as he stepped further into the room, he spun around, his eyes settling on the large mirror that was fixed to the wall. Standing in front of the mirror was the mystery woman he recognized from the stage, who fluffed out her hair, making eye contact with his reflection in the mirror. She smiled softly at Tyree, unfazed by the baffled expression that had washed over his face, trying to process what had just happened. 

“Yes? Wait - no, no!” 

Tyree shook his head, tossing his hands in front of him, unsure of why he was reassuring her, and what he was even reassuring her of in the first place. A soft laugh came from the woman, who gestured for Tyree to take a seat on the couch. Not wanting to be rude, he obliged, slinking into the soft, fabric couch beneath him, watching her step up onto the small stage in front of him. 

Michelle was going to absolutely kill him. 

The thought of Michelle finding out was sobering. How would she find out? He didn’t know, but the mere thought of that kind of confrontation sent his mind reeling. He might be able to get away with going to a strip club - you know, stretch the truth a bit about what he did for his bachelor party when she asked - but there was no way he was going to be able to spin getting a lap dance. She was going to be able to smell the club on him, he just knew it. It was practically undeniable. 

“What’s your name?”

Pulling him from his obsessive thoughts was the mystery woman, who stood leaning against the pole in front of him, her arm wrapped around the metal. He tried his hardest not to look at her, wanting to avoid the reality of his situation. He looked all over the room, grasping for anything, something but the woman standing in the middle of the room to grasp his attention. The plush, gray couch spread out across the wall, simple, black paint covering all four walls. The light above bathed the room in a soft shade of blue, while along the floor was lined with white light strips. 

And no matter where he looked, he could see her out of the corner of his eye, slowly twirling around the pole, her attention locked on him. 

“Tyree.”

Wiping his sweaty hands on the denim fabric of his khaki, Jacquemus jeans, he accepted his fate, looking at her. She smiled at him again, Tyree subconsciously taking note of her warm, inviting smile, and her sweet, calming voice. 

He didn’t know why he gave her his name, but then again, he didn’t know why he was in this room. He didn’t know why he was here, period. As the alcohol began to catch up to him, his brain was practically screaming at him to get up, to leave, to be anywhere but here, that this situation screamed trouble - yet his feet stayed firmly planted. 

He could feel his nerves peaking, rushing to the top as the room filled with an uncomfortable, awkward tension. The subtle scent of weed and perfume hung heavy in the air, while silence overtook them, neither one of them opting to say anything further. Or rather, Tyree didn’t say anything further. 

Yet, the mystery girl didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she acted like the tension didn’t even exist.  

“So Tyree, how old are you?”

Was this what all the dancers did? Ask for your personal information? What’s next, she would ask what for the last four of his social security number?

“Twenty-seven. You?”

Yet, he still surrendered an answer to her question - Tyree unable to not notice how pretty she was, or rather, a voice in the back of his head acknowledged her it. He tried to ignore the new series of thoughts springing to life in his brain, breaking eye contact with her to reel his focus back in. 

“Twenty-four, but my birthday is in two weeks. I’m a Cancer. What about you?” 

“You believe in that zodiac stuff?”

“Yeah. When’s your birthday?”

She waited patiently for his answer as she twirled about the pole, the flashing white lights in her shoes beckoning for his attention. Even with his back pressed firmly against the couch, he could see the details of her outfit as she moved, giving him a full 360 view of how her outfit clung to her curves, stretching out over his hips, the thong seemingly swallowed between her ass cheeks. He wasn’t supposed to be noticing these details, and he swallowed hard, feeling his throat go dry. 

Just keep talking, Tyree. It’ll be over in no time. 

“August twenty-second.”

As if they weren’t already close enough, stifled by the stuffy, thick, tensioned air between them, she stepped down from the stage, standing in front of him. His heart thumped with each movement she made, his pace quickening as she leaned over, placing his hands on his knees, bringing her face close to his. He felt the smallest of shocks by her unexpected movements, glancing down at her hands. 

He didn’t know how, but her nails were the exact same shade of her outfit, adorned with gems and jewels, twinkling in the overhead light. Her long, manicured nails stretched over her fingers, gently grazing his knees. 

“Of course you’re a Virgo. I bet you’re a real critical person, huh? Always think you know better than everybody else?”

She spoke softly, almost whispering, ending her sentence with the same, nerve inducing smile she kept giving him. He rolled his eyes, knowing that she was right - but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that. 

“But isn’t that everyone?”

“I don’t know, is it?”

The two of them fell silent, but the tension before them had seemed to disappear, melting away in the matter of a few questions. In their silence, Tyree was finally able to get a good look at her, his eyes dropping to her lips, which were covered in a pink, glittery shade of lipgloss that made her plump lips stand out. Body glitter decorated her exposed, honey colored skin, and he noticed the beauty mark on her shoulder. Thoughts about how soft she looked slowly took over his mind, his eyes wandering down to her cleavage, before he realized what he was doing. 

A lurking, ruminating thought in the back of his head kept questioning if she was as soft as she looked, tempting, beckoning him to make the move. He couldn’t shake it loose, the thought holding on for dear life, taunting him as she invaded his personal space - not that he was complaining. That’s all he had to do, right? She wouldn’t mind, right? They were already this close - 

But what about Michelle? 

Michelle - his beautiful fiancee. The one he was about to get married to. The girl of his dreams. His best friend. 

He kept trying to jog his memory of her - visualize her face in his head, yet that all became a distant memory as the woman before him climbed into his lap. His common sense begged him to get up and go - take him as far as his legs could take go, but yet again, his feet stayed firmly planted, another side of Tyree taking over, one that was fully falling into the trance that seemed to be taking hold of him. 

Taking his larger hands in her delicate ones, she placed them on her waist, the voice in the back of his head finally getting its answer. 

She was soft. Real soft. 

And she smells good. Real good. 

But pushing to the forefront of his mind was his fiance, Tyree unable to control the word salad that spilled out of his mouth. 

“I’m getting married in two days.”

He licked his lips nervously, his eyes searching her face for a response. He was sure she had her fair share of men that came through that were in his position. “Celebrating” their marriages by spending their last few moments gawking over other women, as if a ring and some vows were supposed to prevent a wandering eye. Tyree couldn’t help but wonder if that made her think about him differently. He wasn’t sure why he was so concerned about her opinion in the first place, but maybe it wasn’t really about her opinion, as much as it was about his. He couldn’t shake the lingering, overwhelming feeling that he was a bad person. He knew that he didn’t belong here, that this wasn’t his scene, that situations like this only invited drama, like his relationship wasn’t already rocky enough. 

His engagement ring catches his eye, the black, titanium band wrapped around his left ring finger, inset with matching black diamonds. It felt like only yesterday when Michelle and him were picking out rings, yet here he was, with his hand resting against a stranger’s asscheek. One that he only exchanged names with moments ago. 

But if she did have any ill feelings to what Tyree had admitted, he couldn’t tell, judging by her blank, unbothered expression. He half expected her to scold him, to get up and tell him to get his ass out of here, to ask him what the hell he was doing here. But she did none of that.

She just..continued their conversation, not missing a beat, breezing past his announcement like he had just told her that the sky was blue. 

“Marriage is a big commitment,”

She told him as she guided his hands along her body, the pads of his fingers sliding along the curve of her waist as she moved her body to the beat of the music. She maintained eye contact with him, Tyree opting to focus on her almond shaped, dark brown eyes, instead of how smooth her skin felt against his hands. Fuck. 

“You ready for that?” 

“I don’t know, it seems like the right thing to do.”

That was a loaded question - yet it wasn’t one that he hadn’t asked himself a thousand times before. In fact, it was all he thought about recently. In between planning an elaborate wedding, picking out cakes and decorations and finalizing guests lists, the deep seated feeling of reluctance continued to set in. He thought that by now he’d be over it, able to push past it. But as the hours ticked on - the worse he felt. He wasn’t able to shake it off. 

“But is that what you wanna do?” 

But that’s because the feeling wasn’t going anywhere. No matter how bad he wanted it to. No matter how many times he forced himself to smile through fittings for his tuxedo, or the countless times he had looked through venues and talked to planners, and put down all these deposits. The feeling in his chest only continued to grow, threatening to consume him if he didn’t do anything about it. 

And her innocent, well meaning question only answered his worst fears. Planted the seeds of feelings he had buried deep down, had convinced himself that he didn’t mean it. That it was just a phase. 

Dropping his hands to his sides, he sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. He couldn’t hide from the truth anymore, and the fact that he was in this situation confirmed everything. He was drunk, unhappy, and lonely, feeling more connected to the pretty girl sitting in his lap than the girl he had known since they were teenagers. And he was beating himself up for feeling that way. 

Michelle and him were the perfect love story. They were supposed to work out. They were supposed to be together forever, and live happily ever after. 

But he couldn’t fake it any more. Even though he really wanted to. 

But he couldn’t break things off. Not now. It was too late. For fuck’s sake, they were about to get married in less than seventy-two hours! It wouldn’t be the right thing to do. 

But what about how he felt?

That was something he hadn’t given much thought to until she had asked. 

“You know, you’re the first guy I’ve seen who feels bad about it.”

He leaned his head back up, meeting the sad expression on her face. 

“About what?”

His words slurred together, the syllables falling against each other due to the alcohol that washed over him, along with his feelings. It was like a wave crashing against the shore, the feelings he had pushed away, compartmentalized in the depths of his brain were rushing in with full force, ready to wipe out everything in its wake. It oozed out of him, out of his thoughts, dripping from his words. 

“About not being in love with a girl who loves them. Most guys don’t care.” 

“Or does that mean I’m an even worse piece of shit?”

He tilted his head back, feeling tears sting the back of his eyes. Tyree wasn’t one for crying, and he wasn’t about to cry now. Not here. Not now. And damn sure not in front of a stranger - regardless of how sweet she seemed to be. He wasn’t going to be one of those cliche niggas who poured their heart out to a stripper, when they really needed a therapist. Not that he needed a therapist, either.

He felt a gentle hand reach at his face, her fingers caressing the side of his face, gingerly tilting his head back down to make him look at her. 

“You’re not a bad guy, but sometimes you gotta live for yourself. Not for what someone else wants you to do.”

She spoke as if she had been in a position like that before - but the pessimist in Tyree made him wonder if she was being genuine, telling him that her wisdom had only come from the amount of guys who had probably told her the same thing before. She had no real reason to be nice to him - aside for money, yet something was telling him that she meant that for real, and was only trying to empathize with him. But then again, she was getting paid five grand for this “dance”. 

She was getting paid to be nice. 

But he didn’t want to think about that. What was he thinking? He didn’t mean any of that. Of course he loved Michelle. He wouldn’t stick around if he didn’t. If the feelings between them weren’t genuine. If their relationship didn’t mean anything to him. Michelle was the only woman he felt close to, that he could trust with anything. It was just cold feet. Everybody felt that way before they got married, right? 

And to avoid answering that, he did what he knew best.

Deflect. 

“Why are you here? You don’t seem like the kind of girl who would be in a place with this.”

She grinned, like she knew he was only asking about her so that it would take the heat off of himself. She didn’t call him out on it, and he was grateful. He was desperate to talk about anything else. 

“And what kind of girl do you think I am?”

He wasn’t expecting her to flip it back on him, though. 

“I don’t know, I’m just talking-” 

He stammed over her his words, falling flat on his attempt to get out the hot seat.

“I don’t know, you’re just being nicer than you have to be to me.” 

“You must think I’m paying for school or something. That’s what all you guys think, right?”

Tyree shook his head, squirming underneath her, which clearly amused her. She took her teasing a step further, continuing to playfully pick at him.

“You got a fantasy about saving a girl from the club? That turns you on?”

“N-No, I was just-”

She burst into laughter, interrupting his messy explanation, tossing her head back. She swept her hair over her shoulder, almost doubling over with laughter, the sound of her laugh just barely echoing in the room. She was laughing so hard she almost fell out of his lap, Tyree’s hands instinctively pulling her against him before she fell to the floor. The quick motion caused her to grind against the seat of his pants, a jolt of electricity running from his fingertips throughout his body. 

Her laughter stopped almost instantly, a heavy blanket of tension falling over the both of them. It lingered in the air, almost stifling the breaths Tyree took. Did she feel it too?

There was no denying it - he was definitely attracted to her. 

If Tyree wasn’t already in the middle of it - he was definitely approaching the danger zone. And the alarm bells that were firing off in his head were telling him that. Unfortunately, the sound of them was only subdued by the alcohol in his system, the same alcohol that was filling his mind with inappropriate thoughts. Thoughts about the pretty girl in his lap, when he should’ve been thinking about his future wife. 

But the thought of Michelle is so far away with this girl in his face. 

“I’m just a regular stripper,”

She leaned in close, her breath tickling his neck. She spoke in a soft whisper, pressing her body against his, the scent of her vanilla and brown sugar perfume filling his nose, her hand caressing the back of his neck, her fingers dragging along the chain around his neck.  

“But I do think you’re kinda cute.”

Her soft voice against his skin made him twitch in his pants, something deep, deep down within him stirring awake. She guided his hands over her hips and ass, his hands lingering in that position as she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning in close to him. 

The inappropriate thoughts only continued in his mind, this time stepping to the very front, ruminating over the endless possibilities that seemed to race through his mind. She smelled so good, and her skin felt so good, he couldn’t help but hopelessly wonder what if she felt even better. His mind poked and prodded him with suggestive thoughts, fantasies forming in the back of his mind - wondering what she looked like without the outfit. What she sounded like. Even better - what she sounded like saying his name. 

It was just the two of them in this room - they could do anything. They had enough time to do whatever they wanted, and nobody would ever know. Not Terrell, not the security guard, and damn sure not Michelle. It could be their little secret. That wasn’t so bad, right?

Their faces inched closer to one another, Tyree’s breath catching in his chest, while the sexual tension between them bubbled over, approaching a crescendo. Could she feel it too? Or was he just crazy? 

But he’d never get the answer to that question. 

Loud, forceful knocking on the door cut straight through their moment, and she pulled away, Tyree exhaling sharply. 

“Time’s up.”

Tyree felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders when she stood up. His breathing returned to normal, the pressure that was building in his chest seeming to disappear as he snapped out of her trance. When he stood up, he swayed slightly from side to side, trying to gain his bearings. The room was spinning, his head was spinning, and so was his stomach. Why’d he drink so much?

As if she noticed, she took his hand, guiding him out of the room and back down the lengthy hallway. With each wobbly, drunken step he took, he tried to match her decisive, smaller steps. The music was pounding, reverberating through his body, almost like a breath of fresh air from whatever situation he had gotten - or almost got himself into in that room. 

He wandered over to the bar, not noticing that the mystery woman had left his side until his brother appeared in his face, sliding a cup of water in his direction. 

Any other time he might’ve been relieved to see Terrell, but after the shit he pulled, he didn’t even want to look at him. It was like looking into a mirror - a mirror that reflected his fuck ups and bad decisions right back at him, and reflected his own stupidity. Fortunately, it wasn’t like Tyree could see his face clearly, anyways - his head was swirling. Swirling with alcohol induced confusion, beating him up about his even more confused perceptions about Michelle, and his attraction to a scantily clad stranger - who represented temptation thinly veiled behind invasive questions and well intentioned advice. 

He couldn’t believe he actually considered cheating on Michelle. His future wife. The woman he had been with and pined over on and off since he was eighteen. His family. The future mother of his kids. 

Even if it was just a kiss - how far could it have really gone? He wanted to lie to himself, tell himself that he was stronger than that, better than that. He wasn’t a cheater. He didn’t want to throw away his relationship for just a moment of weakness. A moment of pleasure. If he was so strong, why couldn’t he stop replaying that blimp in time? Why couldn’t he ignore that feeling of her breath on his neck, the way her fingers lightly danced across the back of his neck? The way her voice sounded like a melody in his ears? 

What was he doing? What was wrong with him? He was going to marry Michelle and that was it. He was going to fix things. Fly straight and erase this night, and her, from his mind. He loved Michelle. He wanted to be with her - he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her - even though that seemed like a long, fucking time. Then what was the issue? Why was he so hung up on some girl he didn’t even know? He didn’t even know her name!

Because - he didn’t really want to get married. 

Hell, he didn’t want to have kids now. Not where he was at in his life. Not with what he did with his life. He didn’t want to bring a child into this world with the dirt he did. It would be putting too much at risk. 

More importantly, he wasn’t happy. 

“You alright man?”

Terrell shook his shoulders, his face flushing with worry, while the array of lights overhead bathed his face in hues of blue and purple. Tyree weaseled out of his grasp, putting some distance between them, nodding his head. 

“I’m good, I just need some fresh air.”

He doubted Terrell could hear him over the music, but he assumed Terrell got the hint when he didn’t follow him outside. 

Greeting him as he pushed through the set of black, double doors at the entrance was the muggy, humid air of Atlanta’s nightlife. Planes flew overhead in the sky, the stars obstructed from the bright, white and yellow toned lights that decorated nearly every building and street corner around the club. The line outside was still long - people still packing in, hoping to get a taste of the party inside, itching to cross the threshold into endless fantasy. The parking lot was full, folks posted up near their cars, some of them taking pictures while others played dice games or shared liquor from bottles they knew they couldn’t bring inside. 

Overhead was the sign for Club Crystal, the striking bright blue sticking out like an eyesore among the other buildings surrounding them. 

Tyree exhaled, leaning against the wall, pulling out his phone.

It was three fifteen exactly, and the club was scheduled to close in about forty minutes. He was surprised his phone was even still on - the battery on five percent, hanging on by a thread, much like how he was feeling himself at this moment. 

Even fresh air couldn’t shake the feeling Tyree harbored in his chest, his heart beating rhythmically to his breaths as he contemplated his next move.

There was only one move to do, honestly. 

And he was dreading taking the first step. 

In the back of his mind, way deep down - which was inching closer to the front little by little, taking giant leaps - he knew that the dancer was right. You can’t live your life for others. You can’t go along with someone else’s plans just because they love you. It would be selfish of him to continue a life with Michelle that he wasn’t happy with, just because it made her happy. Her happiness meant a lot to him, so why didn’t it make him happy?

But he didn’t want to hurt Michelle. 

And even though she would hate him, he knew she’d hate him even more if he followed through and couldn’t keep up the facade. It would absolutely crush her, and the thought of having to “fake it to make it” was going to crush him too. It was too late to get his deposits back and refunds for everything he had paid for already, but he had the money to not have to worry about that. And even though he’d never get that back, it was never too late to get peace of mind for his decisions and needs. 

Staring down at the text message thread between him and Michelle, his fingers hovered over the keyboard. The last time they had talked was hours ago, right before they went their separate ways for their parties. Cutesy, sugary-sweet exchanges of “I love yous” flooded in between their regular conversations, with Michelle’s last message telling him to have fun, but not too much fun. 

Tyree wasn’t one to be dumbfounded, or just draw blank - but for the first time in a while, he didn’t know what to say. For once, the overworking, clanking and crashing together gears that symbolized his brain were paralyzed, like someone threw a wrench dead center in the middle of it all. 

“You think that wing place will be open?” 

“It’s Friday, it might be.”

“I’d rather have Waffle House - they got them big ass chicken wings at that spot! It be making me feel like I’m really eating an animal.” 

“That’s cause it's..really a chicken, Mimi.” 

“I know, but baby chicks are so cute..I feel so bad for eating their parents.” 

Tyree looked up briefly from his phone as the three women exited through the doors next to him, engrossed in their conversation about what they were looking to eat. Dressed in sweatsuits and carrying stuffed, duffle bags on their shoulders, a security guard came out trailing behind them, escorting them through the parking lot. Tyree recognized two of them as Fancy and Mimi, watching them as the security guard pushed past drunk party-goers who stood outside, hoping to make a move on them, hollering a variety of obscenities. 

Although their faces were relatively familiar, the third woman was who he recognized the most. 

And here she was, approaching him from across the parking lot. 

Separating from her group, she dragged her feet beneath her, adjusting the pink bag on her shoulder. She walked slowly, walking through the line of cars that were trying to get out of the parking lot, and he noticed she kept constantly looking back and forth with almost each step. Almost like she was looking for someone, something. 

Tyree could feel his heart quicken in his chest, and by the time they were face to face, he felt like it was about to jump out of his chest and fall flat onto the ground between them. His hands were clammy, sweating, and he tightened his grip on his phone, finding himself anticipating her words, feeling himself slowly falling into that trance. The temptation. 

“You okay?”

Was all she said, keeping the distance between the two of them. Her demeanor had shifted, and he noticed she looked withdrawn, shrunken into herself, completely different from the woman who seemed to be in control of the situation between them not too long ago. Dressed casually, the black, cropped tank top and brown flared sweatpants were a stark contrast from her previous outfit, having exchanged her tall, platform heels for plain, black Crocs. Her hair framed the soft, beautiful features of her face, her arms and chest sparkling with shimmery, body glitter. 

“I don’t know,” 

He sighed, trying to shake loose the knot forming in his chest. 

He just had to take the first step.

Nothing major, right?

But the first step was always the hardest step. 

“But shit, I will be.”

Sending off a quick message to Michelle, telling her that they needed to talk, he locked his phone and pushed it back into the front pocket of his jeans. He gave his full attention to the woman before him, who tilted his head at him, her eyes analyzing him, seeing the slightest hint of a pitying, sympathetic look tugging at her features. They were quiet, taking each other in, an uneasy, weighted tension inching in between their lack of conversation. 

It was clear she didn’t know what to say, and neither did he, but it seemed like she understood what he meant without him having to explain it further.

She looked over her shoulder, at the black, Dodge Durango where her friends were waiting, hanging out of the window. They had been watching their exchange for the past few minutes, and the driver flashed their lights, signaling for her to hurry things up. She looked back at him, something lingering in her eyes, like she had something to say, but was unable to piece it together. 

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” 

She sighed, adjusting the bag on her shoulder again, looking him over, like she was savoring the moment between them.

“Well good night, Tyree.” 

“Yeah, good night-”

“Yaya.”

He nodded, finally able to put a face to the name. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he didn’t expect it to be so simple. So easy, slipping from her lips smoothly. He found himself repeating it in his mind, bouncing back and forth between the two syllables like a metronome. 

“Good night, Yaya.”

Smiling at him, she spun on her heel, and with a slight bounce in her step and a subtle switch of her hips, she headed back to her friends. 

But something in Tyree wasn’t just going to let her walk away so easily. 

And Yaya only made it halfway across the parking lot before Tyree’s own footsteps trailed behind her, the last bit of liquid courage flushing through his bloodstream. 

“Yaya!”

“Hm?”

She stopped in place, watching as he closed the distance between them. He towered over her smaller frame, and she looked up at him, a ready listener for whatever he decided to say next.

“Can I get your number?”

“Ain’t you finna get married?”

Yaya knitted her eyebrows together, her face scrunching up in disbelief. She crossed her arms over her chest, cocking her head sideways, the stern, stiff look she gave Tyree leaving him to pick up the pieces of the waning courage he once had. He could feel himself sobering up by the second - kicking himself for his forwardness. 

“I uh..”

Rolling her eyes at him, she turned back around, starting to walk away from him. Yet, Tyree followed, calling her name again. 

“It’s Amaiyah.”

“Huh?”

She shook her head, her arms still crossed over her chest. They stood a few feet away from each other, and Tyree could see the security guard that stood at the hood of the car, eyeing him. It was the same security guard from earlier, with the scorpion tattoo. Time was ticking, and if Tyree was going to make a move, he needed to do so sooner rather than later. And judging from the expression written across her face, Tyree’s time was about to run out at any moment. 

“My name. I’m not a stripper twenty-four seven. Call me Amaiyah.”

Uh-mai-yuh. His brain savored it, just like it did with her dancer name. Pretty name for a pretty girl. It suited her. 

“It suits you.”

Come on, Tyree. You got to have something way better than that. 

“Why should I give you my number?”

Amaiyah stepped towards him, Tyree trying to figure out what to say before he was staring down at her face again. 

And he couldn’t come up with shit.

She snickered, knowing she had caught him off guard, staring up into his eyes again. She stared long and hard too, like she was trying to get a clear read on him, debating if he was well worth the risk. And for the first time in a long time, Tyree felt like a high schooler, the look in her eyes reminding him of how a parent would over analyze someone coming over to take their daughter on a date. 

But then her eyes softened, and a wave of relief flushed over him. He passed her checklist. Good. 

She held her hand out, and he didn’t hesitate to slip his unlocked phone into her hand. He watched patiently as typed her number in, adding herself to his short list of contacts. The bright light from his phone reflected in her face, and she locked it back before she handed it to him, pushing it into his hand. 

“Figure your shit out and then come see me again.”

“How am I supposed to know the next time you work?”

The cynic in him told him that it was just a ploy to get him back in the club, back in that cesspool of sexual tension and lust, clouded with free flowing alcoholic drinks. She thought he was a sucker - that she’d get him to spend every last dollar he had on her-

“I work every Wednesday through Saturday,”

She broke his rapid train of thought, bursting the bubble of negative thoughts that tried to balloon up. 

“Don’t text me if you change your mind. I’m not a homewrecker.”

He nodded, listening intently as her subtle accent popped at the end of her words. She sounded like she was from out of town, her accent covered by a thin blanket of that familiar, southern, Atlanta twang. Her face was serious, and her words told him she meant business. 

And Tyree was all about his business. 

With an unspoken understanding between them, and a feminine wave, she turned on her heel, heading back towards her ride. Fancy and Mimi eyed him as Amaiyah climbed into the SUV, and he could hear them teasing her, their voices being drowned out by the low rumble of the engine, the car’s headlights shining against his legs.  

With her number in his phone, and a confident pep in his step, he headed back in the direction of the club. People spilled out from the doors as people filtered in, stumbling over their own feet as they walked. One woman nearly fell to her knees, but caught herself just as a fountain of throw up spilled out from her. Gross.

As people avoided the woman - who had to throw up again - Tyree scanned the crowd for his friends, meeting them halfway as he saw them split off from the people wandering out to their cars. Leading the group was Terrell, with RC and Dominic following close behind, Dominic practically being dragged out by RC, who was holding him up. 

“I was wondering where you went.”

Terrell wrapped his arms around Tyree’s shoulders, the two of them watching RC struggle to help Dominic stand on his own two feet. RC had since sobered up - but Tyree could tell he was still pretty drunk, judging by the way he staggered back and forth. If a relatively strong gust of wind came through, Dominic would’ve ended up right on the ground.

 It wasn’t a surprise to Tyree that Dominic was wasted - that was typically his thing whenever they all went out. Dominic was the only grown ass man he knew that would purposely go past his limit and end up blackout drunk. This was no exception, in fact, the fact that tonight was so special only gave Dominic even more of a reason to get that drunk. 

“Who’s that?”

RC pointed past Tyree, which made Terrell turn his head to look behind his brother. He knew RC was referring to Amaiyah and her friends in the car behind them, and he could still hear the rumble of the car, and see the headlights that shined straight in their direction. Tyree shook his head, waving his question off, keeping the events of tonight close to his chest. It was already tossed in the metaphorical lockbox in his head, wiped clean from the rest of his brain. He played into the facade, however, glancing over his shoulder briefly. 

“I don’t know. Nice car though.”

“Can we get food? I’m fucking starving.” 

Domonic spoke through his slurred speech, the words coming out all at once, sounding like his mouth was filled with water. He groaned as RC shifted his weight, Julius rolling his eyes as he dragged Domonic in the direction of the car. They joined the crowd of people, walking to Terrell’s forest green Lamborghini Urus at the far end of the parking lot. 

Behind them, the Durango eased around them, cutting into the flow of cars that were formed in a line to leave. It rolled to a stop in front of the twins, the Toyota and several other cars behind them beginning to honk as the line halted. Tyree and Terrell exchanged glances, the limousine style window tints reflecting their image right back at them. The driver side window rolled down slowly, revealing the driver to be a brown skin man with face tattoos, an ankh tattooed under his right eye. He looked them up and down before leaning back, Tyree realizing that Fancy was in the passenger seat. She leaned forward across her seat, her eyes locked on Terrell, a smirk stretched across her face. 

“Bye Terrell.” 

A goofy smile danced across Terrell’s face, a smile Tyree had seen one too many times. He didn’t even have to ask to understand the picture being painted in front of him, and he shook his head at his brother’s antics. 

“Bye Fancy..”

With their goodbyes exchanged, the driver rolled the window back up, giving the two of them an acknowledging nod. He sped forward, disregarding the people honking behind him, swerving around a group of people walking across the parking lot. The Durango cut to the front of the line, Tyree watching as it pulled out onto the street, heading in the opposite direction of the club, the crackle of the car’s engine fading out into the distance.

“So,”

Terrell turned to him, a sly grin replacing the smile on his face. He could already tell what he was thinking, and Tyree refused to give into the excited, expectant look in his brother’s eyes. Tyree wasn’t saying a word. What happened tonight was between him, Amaiayah, and what happened in the private room inside Club Crystal. And that’s exactly how he wanted to keep it - private. 

Too bad Terrell was already one step ahead of him. 

“You get her number? Don’t lie to me, nigga.”

Tyree couldn’t fight the smile he had, and Terrell grinned, shaking him back and forth, laughing. And knowing he was caught, Tyree unlocked his phone to show him proof. The screen opened right back up to Amaiyah’s contact information, where she left her name with a pink heart next to it.

“Yeah, I did-”

With newfound confidence and all the cockiness in the world, he handed the phone to Terrell, only for his face to fall flat when Terrell burst out in laughter, practically doubling over onto the ground. 

“What? The fuck are you-”

Snatching the phone back, Tyree looked over the screen, trying to figure out what was so damn funny all of a sudden. Terrell was still laughing, wrapping his arms around his stomach as deep laughs escaped from his chest, ones that left him gasping for air and unable to form a clear sentence. 

Then he saw it - right there - staring back at him, were the nine digits of Amaiyah’s phone number. Not the normal, required ten. 

“Looks like she got you-”

“You got makeup on your shirt.”

Stopping Terrell’s laughter in his tracks, Tyree pointed at the big makeup stain on the front of his shirt. Terrell’s face dropped, pulling at the hem of his shirt, getting a clear look at the well defined makeup stain. He kissed his teeth, sighing harshly, and threw his hands up into the air, Tyree half expecting him to start throwing a tantrum. 

“Fuck, this shirt was Prada!” 

“And now it’s nada.”

“Nigga, fuck you!”

[dresmoove]

LA Task - About Andre.

What is your full name?

— Andre Terrell Davis Jr.

Where and when were you born?

— Atlanta, Ga

Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.)

— Andre never knew his mom, and his father Andre Davis Sr. is a truck driver that had no intentions of being an active father. He was raised by his grandparents, Dion and Loretta Davis who own a soul food restaurant in Atlanta. Their nurturing personalities saved his life.

Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like?

— He has 2 siblings but he doesn't know them.

Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people.

— Andre lives in Boston, Ma part time and Los Angeles, Ca part time by himself.

What is your occupation?

— He is the starting small forward for the Boston Celtics.

Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye color, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks.

— Andre is African-American with no tattoos and stands at 6 foot 6 inches tall and weighing about 220 pounds. His hair is always clean cut and he keep his beard long but shaped. He dresses how he feels and can be found breaking fashion norms because he likes to experiment and wear what he thinks looks good.

To which social class do you belong?

— Upper class.

Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses?

— No.

Are you right- or left-handed?

— Right handed

What does your voice sound like?

— Andre's voice is deep, gruff, and smooth.

What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently?

— Random basketball words. Huh, shut up nigga, energy.

What do you have in your pockets?

— His phone and wallet.

Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?

— No.

PART 2: GROWING UP

How would you describe your childhood in general?

— Andre's childhood was rough for a long time with neither parents wanting him. He was bounced around family members, almost joined a gang in middle school but his grandparents stepped in and gave him a second chance. They were strict but it was what he needed.

What is your earliest memory?

— Getting a bike for his 6th birthday.

How much schooling have you had?

— Andre left college early to pursue his NBA career but he has since gone back an finished up and now holds a bachelor's degree in sociology with a concentration in family, gender and society.

Did you enjoy school?

— Yes he did.

Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities?

— He learned how to play basketball from playing older guys in the park and watching tv.

While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them.

— He didn't have anyone to look up to but he had a lot of people he knew he didn't want to be like. Andre wanted his own path and to be his own man.

While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family?

— He didn't talk a lot and stayed to himself but he felt safe with his grandparents and respected them.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

— He wanted to be an astronaut.

As a child, what were your favorite activities?

— He liked to play sports and video games.

As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like?

— Andre wasn't popular until high school because that was the longest he had stayed at once school. Everybody he was around he didn't consider friends because he wasn't used to having people support him and he never spoke to any of them once he went to college. The only person he was friends with was his high school sweetheart and she was his rock.

When and with whom was your first kiss?

— He had his first kiss in 5th grad with a girl who used to bully him.

Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity?

— He's not a virgin, he lost his virginity at 16 to his girlfriend at the time.

PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?

— The day he signed a contract to play in the NBA.

Who has had the most influence on you?

— His grandparents were his only good influence and by far the greatest.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?

— Andre considers making the NBA the greatest thing he's ever done.

What is your greatest regret?

— His biggest regret is getting caught up with gangs when he was young.

What is the most evil thing you have ever done?

— He beat up a kid for no reason just to prove he could hang.

Do you have a criminal record of any kind?

— He's been arrested for fighting and for possession.

When was the time you were the most frightened?

— He was scared the last time he got arrested because he thought that would be the one that stuck.

What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you?

— He was embarrassed when he got caught stealing as a kid.

If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why?

— He wouldn't change anything because it got him to where he is.

What is your best memory?

— His best memory was making his first basket in the NBA.

What is your worst memory?

— His worst memory was not having anyone to celebrate mother's and father's day with.

[expirisims]

Love Day Concert

It's Love Day so Jess headed down to the festival and would you look at who the performer is? It's our very own Terrell!

Way to go! That was quite the performance! And it looks like the audience were enjoying it too!

Or not! LOL! Oh Dear!

Jess had no qualms about letting him know either! OMG Girl! Of course, she is also best friends with Alyson so I'm sure she's heard plenty of dirt on Terrell.

In other news...Magic gnomes, the business of Baldwin and Gibbs collecting dividends, and MORE inappropriate flirtations from Clark! Does Edith not know? Or is she just cool with it? I dunno, I've given up on trying to figure all the romances in Redwood Harbor out!