#if i could afford it i could take up jockeying and be the fucking best at it because horse can run real fast because im tiny

[toonfinatic]

People calling men that are barely below average height "short kings" are WEAK and will not survive the winter much less any season... instead start calling men under 5 foot short kings or die by my blade!!!!!

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

DOWN BAD- P.B PARKER

Pairing- Jock! Peter x Nerd! Reader (enemies to… lovers?)

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Peter Parker constantly nags you, and you hate his guts (naturally). So what better way to mellow the hate by being paired together for a class project? And why, if you hate his guts, do you want to touch him so bad?

Warnings: Making out, suggestive sexual content, dry humping, teasing, swearing etc…

Notes: It’s been a while, I apologize if my writing is a bit rusty! I hope you enjoy nonetheless, I had a fun time writing, and I really did miss it (Taylor Swifts new album really inspired me too!) I am using my phone to post for the first time, I hope to go back and format/ edit if need be when I can use my laptop again. Thank you for all the support :)

“Don’t look at me like that.” You huffed, eyes sharp as daggers as your cool gaze slid over to your target and struck its mark.

Peter Parker. Bullseye.

You could feel his lingering attention solely focused on you, a coy smirk upon his lips as he tapped his pencil against the wooden desk, its dull echo like nails on a chalkboard. A taunting metronome in the back of your mark as he leaned over to tower over you in his seat.

It was too close to yours for your liking.

“Like what pipsqueak?” he murmured, drowning out the professor's droning voice as he dragged on. You wished you could hit him with the textbook in your bag. Both of them, honestly.

“Like you’re thrilled for this. Don’t act like you like me.”

“Well I do like you.” He smiled, beaming ear to ear.

For him, it was the best day of his life. Getting randomly paired with “whoever you’re sitting next to, I don’t care.” (the professor's words, not yours), was a thrill for him, he got to pick on the quiet, shy girl more than usual.

Which would be a shock, considering the sheer amount he did already, always finding his way next to you to tease you, especially with and to his stupid jockey friends. This project was worth thirty percent of your grade. You couldn’t afford this.

“Well I don’t like you. So fuck off.” You heard a low whistle from behind you, a chuck alongside it from his friends. “Kitty has claws?” Peter whistled, eyebrow raising in mock surprise as you shifted your legs to the other side of the chair, angling away from him.

“Oh you’re in for it now Parker” Bucky laughed as you covered your ears in an attempt to drown them out. You felt like you were in middle school again, the way they mocked you. And what made it worse was that it got to you. Not that the jokes and remarks meant anything much, but it was just the sheer annoyance of it all.

You had thrived to be a straight A student your entire life, and in this class… you could feel them slipping. Taking a deep breath, you clenched your pen harder in your hand, pressing so hard the page snagged as you wrote.

You could still feel his eyes on you, flickering over from under his glasses ,his muscles flexing subtly under his blue t-shirt. You pretended not to look, and to not focus on the fact he was extremely attractive. You spent the rest of the hour doing just that, scolding yourself for any indecent thought you had ever had about him, ever. By the time the professor had snapped his laptop shut, the projector turning dark as students started to talk amongst themselves as they packed up, you had half a page of notes, max.

“I’ll be in touch.” he leaned down and whispered, hand lingering by your chair as he slipped by. “Fuck you.”

He just threw his head back and laughed, his friend group joining him as he looked back. And winked. You groaned. This was going to be three weeks of hell.

—————————————————————————

It was a Thursday when you got a text from him. An unknown number flashed on your screen as you lay face down on your bed, contemplating life and if this class was seriously worth it or not.

The buzz of the phone had your head snapping up, confused until it suddenly dawned on you.

Unknown: Think we should start brainstorming for this thing pipsqueak?

Well fuck, you thought, wanting to throw your phone across the room. This class wasn’t that important, right? (It was).

Taking a deep breath, you sat up as your thumbs started to fly across the screen.

You: Who is this?

Unknown: I’m hurt, pips. Truly.

You: I think you have the wrong number.

You smirked. Okay, who were you kidding… this was kind of fun. Kind of.

Peter: It’s Peter, you jerk. Are you really going to make me spell it out for you?

You: Peter who? Doesn’t ring a bell.

Good. Knock him down a few pegs. You giggled to yourself, quickly stopping once you realised why exactly you were kicking your feet like a school girl, for who exactly. You layed back down, head muddled with meaningless thoughts that jumbled as you waited for his response. Grabbing a stuffie, you hugged it close to your chest, feeling it rise and fall as you caught your breath, grounding yourself. Why on earth did this mean so much to you? Why did his texts, something so easily ignorable- suddenly a waiting game?

Peter: Ha ha, very funny pips.

You: How did you even get my number anyways?

Peter: Long story, I had to go on a bit of a hunt. A friend, of a friend of a friend, you get the point. I can be very persuasive ;)

Nope. You thought. Don’t give into this.

You: I’m sure.

Peter: You wanna come over on the weekend or meet at Braxston’s to start… brainstorming?

You: I don’t want to do anything of the sort, but if that gets this over with as soon as possible- then sure. Only one of us has a brain to storm anyways.

Peter: You’ll regret that pips.

You clicked off your phone, a ghost of a smirk on your face. His threat surprisingly didn’t seem like a real threat, but actual light hearted teasing, not the kind he often did.

Fuck. You were supposed to be hating him. You did hate him. It was only three weeks with him. You weren’t sure if you meant that with relief or disappointment.

————————————————————————————

It was disappointment.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you rubbed your creased temple. It was nearly midnight , and your books were still scattered across the desk you occupied, the library a ghost town considering it was a Friday night. Braxston library tended to be on the empiter side, which is why you preferred it. It was the oldest library on campus, smelling of old pages and cedarwood.

Sometimes, when you needed a break you would get up and run your fingers across the leather spines, or climb the ladder for a change of view of the stained glass windows. But tonight, you lacked the motivation to even bother standing. It had been a long night, filled with cramming and stress. Pen and highlighter stained your hands as you shook them out, cramped and aching. For the last hour you had solely focused on the final you and Peter had to pull out your ass, coming up with backup plans with the worry he would abandon you completely.

Topics, ideas, theories- god you didn’t even know anymore. Your body lacked caffeine, your iced coffee long gone. You grew tired of this mindless work, sliding off your headphones to admire the near empty room around you.

Suddenly, you wished it was completely empty.

Peter looked just as shocked to see you, eyes widening in surprise, backpack slung over his shoulder, hair ruffled and eyebags prominent as if he had fallen asleep and been startled awake.

“Pips? I thought we weren’t supposed to meet until tomorrow?” He made his way over to you, inviting himself to lean over you, on your desk. You stared up at him with a look of amusement.

“We don’t have to meet at all. It’s very bold you assume I’m here to see you, of all people.” you snorted. His eyebrow raised. “So who are you here to meet?”

“Two papers and exam prep. You?”

“More or less the same” he smirked, and you felt butterflies start to churn in your stomach. “Sounds like great fun. I’m sure they’re lovely.” you said, snarky comment slipping out before you could stop it, turning in your seat as you often did around him so he wouldn’t see the fluster and nerves in your demeanour whenever you were near him.

He leaned down, breath warm against the column of your neck. You couldn't breathe. You could not fucking breathe with him this close to you. The rich scent of his cologne made you dizzy, it intoxicated you as you stared at your laptop screen, as if it possessed the knowledge of the entire universe.

“You know, you can’t avoid me forever. You’re gonna have to confront me at some point, pip.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about” you snarled softly, staring at the coy, cockly little smirk you wanted to wipe off his face as he stood. “Sure you don’t.” He nodded his head towards your screen, with a wink.

“Good song.” he smiled, before he was off. You continued to stare at him as he walked out the door, not looking back once. Not a care in the world as he slipped on his own headphones, and around the corner.

Eyes moved down to stare at the pause button of your song, lyrics burning into your ears at the thought of him listening to it- and enjoying it.

Down bad, waking up in blood, staring at the sky, come back over and pick me up- fuck it if I can’t have us, I might just not get up, I might stay down bad.

You were so incredibly fucked.

———————————————————

You took a deep breath. Then another.

You let the crisp, cool night air wash over your burning skin, the faint smell of weed tickling your senses, probably from a house down the street. It was a pretty busy neighbourhood, full of students you recognized from afar on campus. You didn’t associate with the more ‘popular’ kids, if that could even be considered a thing past high school.

You tried to shake off the uneasiness that stuck with you, cracking your knuckles as you tried to prepare yourself to not only see Peter, but to interact with him- in his house. Most likely for hours. You knew you probably looked like a complete idiot out on the sidewalk, just near his house but you had to muster some form of courage.

All you could see was a faint light from what looked like the living room, and a light upstairs- you presumed his room. No sign of life other than that.

You thought of his words, how twisted they sounded. You can’t avoid me forever. You’re gonna have to confront me at some point, pip.

Fuck it.

You slipped from your hiding spot (from Peter, you were placed behind a large tree in his front yard, but god knows what people driving by thought), and mentally prepared yourself for his roommates to answer the door, making fun of you before he put the cherry on top. Practically leaping up the porch stairs, you raced to the door, knocking quickly.

You wanted this over and done with. Your palms were clammy and your stomach churned viciously as you heard footsteps near the door. It took everything in you to stay rooted to the ground and to not flee, and when Peter appeared, you feared the opposite.

How the hell you were supposed to move with him in that slutty little fit, a pair of grey sweatpants slung low on his waist, his v-line and happy trail on full display… his toned abs and arms in a little white muscle shirt… gods you didn’t know. You were sure your tongue fully hung out of your mouth like some cartoon character as you took him in.

“Took you long enough” he said with a snort, adjusting his glasses, sliding them further up his nose. You didn’t even know he had glasses. Did he wear contacts? Had he worn them and you just didn’t notice? No, surely that wasn’t the case, you noticed everything he did. It was like he sucked all of the air out of the atmosphere whenever he walked in a room. It was suffocating, in a way. Of course you had to look at him, and you were sure you weren't the only one.

“I was admiring the greenery.”

“I saw that. I wasn’t sure the maple needed to be examined that long.” he smirked, and your felt your fists instinctively clench.

He had saw you- so you were fucked and now the only logical thing to do was to run into a brick wall. Perfect, got it.

“I enjoy living in the moment, and I don’t take nature for granted.’ you huffed, attempting to compose yourself as he stepped aside, motioning for you to enter. “I’m sure. Don’t worry it was cute.” he smiled, running a hand through his tosseled hair.

You slid off your shoes, setting them next to his worn in converse you always saw him wear. You noticed the other pairs were missing, not even a missing lace to be found.

“Where are your roommates?” you asked as entered, surveying the open space. It was surprisingly tidy for a boys place, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of Peter rushing around attempting to clean up before you came (though you doubted he would ever do that). Still, it was nice to think about.

Little traces of “boy” still lingered, silly little signs scattered across the walls, flags and such, empty, crushed beer and poking out from the recycling bins. “I kicked them out, because I figured you would want to contentrate.” he said.

Yeah like I’m going to be able to conetrate with you looking that fucking fine. Ha.

“That’s considerate. I’m surprised you even know what that is, Parker. I’m impressed.”

He snorted, throwing a little look back your way as he lead you up the stairs, presumably to his room. “I’m surprised you know how to walk up stairs. You have Bambi legs.” he teased, mocking your clumsiness. You cursed him internally. Maybe out loud too, judging by his laugh.

You tried to stifle down the butterflies. You were not about to flirt with him. You were not about to let your developing feelings expand. You hated him. He was mean and he was an asshole.

You were simply here to get this project done. That’s it.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I know.” was all he said, turning down a hall to an open door, light glowing faintly- beckoning to you. You appreciated his refusal to use the overhead light- not that you’d tell him that. He’d probably look at you like you were insane.

“I see you clean for girls you bring over.” you noted, observing his (surprisingly) decently clean room.

“Bold of you to assume I cleaned. Maybe I’m always this tidy.” he smirked, arms flexing over and behind his head as he sat down in his office chair, man-spreading as he stretched.

You tried so hard not to stare. And failed miserably.

“I would’ve thought you cleaned up for ladies you bring to bed.”

His eyebrows arched. “Should I have prepared then?”

Something like churning fire burned in your belly, slithering lower and lower.

“Don’t start with me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it pip.” he smiled coyly, knowing he had gotten you flustered. “May I?” you nodded to his bed, trying to ignore your feelings as you sat down. Fanning your skirt out, you tucked your legs in before opening your bag, attempting to cover your thighs with your bag as much as you could- his cool gaze staring lasers into your bare skin.

“So… if we have to base this on a creature in the wild…”

“Jumping straight to the point aren’t we?” he asked and you frowned in confusion.

“What did you want me to do foreplay or something beforehand?” you asked, your word choice more than intentional. You swore a little pink tinted his cheeks as he swiveled around.

“Right to it then. Okay, I was thinking spiders. Specifically their venom and social behaviours.”

You blinked. Jesus okay he had thought about this. This was not what you were expected.

“Elaborate Parker.”

He smiled. “ From what I’ve seen, not a lot is known about the venom entirely. From a predator-prey aspect.. I’ve mainly seen stuff on specific components evolving to target specific sites on cell membrains of prey tissue, we could work with that to start. Maybe expand on the social aspect and evolution.”

You were stunned. This was… more than you could’ve hoped for. Suddenly you felt bad for all the doubt aimed towards him over the few days leading up to this meeting.

“Hmm. I like it.”

“Did you have any ideas you had brewing in that genius brain of yours?” he asked, making you blush internally.

“I had some stuff just in case, but it was just random jots I’m not too proud of.”

He scoffed. “You came prepared with backup stuff?!”

You just shrugged. “Do you blame me?”

“Kinda.” he laughed. “Start thinking of me more highly pips. I even have access to a brown widow, we could do some experiments.”

You winced at the thought of actually studying a spider up close, but it was part of the job. Whatever could get this done the fastest, and you had to applaud him for providing some of your own evidence you could actually showcase.

He caught your wince, and you could feel the teasing start to start. It was like bait for him, he loved it. “The spider may bite, but I won’t. That is, unless you want me too.” he winked, and you fought the urge not to chuck your laptop at his handsome face.

“You’re gross Parker.”

“Oh I’m sure you think I am. Doesn’t make a difference to me.”

You were going to strangle him. “Let’s just focus and get this project done as soon as we can, yeah? Please.”

You riffled through your bag, grabbing different coloured pens and your notebook, skimming through your random thoughts and jots.

“Whatever you say pip.”

“Start researching Parker.” And that was that.

—————————————————————

A few hours had passed, and so far you were quite impressed with how much the two of you had gotten done. For the most part, the two of you had stayed on opposite sides of the room. If he wanted to make a move, he wasn’t physically doing it, and his roommates still hadn’t come home yet.

Though as the hours passed, he had made his way closer to you- ever so slightly. From his desk he nudged over closer and closer, his laptop landing in his lap as he worked.

“What source are you working from right now?” you asked, not bothering to cast your gaze up as you continued to type, fingers flying over the keyboard as you bit your lip in concentration. You failed to notice his eyes darting between your lips and your breasts that poked out slightly as you slouched over, licking his lips hungrily.

“Some research paper. Here.”

You let out a little oomph in surprise as he plopped down beside you, sprawled across his bed as he enveloped you in his makeshift fortress. He stared at you with such longing you felt faint, having to stop your work to pull yourself together.

Fuck.

He nodded towards it, and you realized you had been staring at him longer than you intended, forgetting about the paper completely. “Oh, yeah okay let me look.” you murmured, taking the laptop from his hand to slide it across your lap, the fan whirling softly, the warmth of it adding more coals to the fire you felt already.

He was still staring.

Please look away before I want to kiss you. Or do more then kiss you. I’m supposed to be hating you, stop please.

You tried your best to read and concentrate, but it was next to no use. All you could focus on was him, his fingers drumming on the comforter near your thigh (what man has a comforter anyways?!), and his gaze on you, that was heavy with something. Want, perhaps? Lust? Or you were delusional. Very possible.

“It’s um, it’s good. I like it, I think there’s lots of good… stuff here.”

“Good stuff huh?” he asked sarcastically, a smirk plastered across his face.

He knew. The fucker knew you were down bad.

“Yeah. You know what I mean.” you grumbled, staring back down at your screen.

“I do know what you mean. Do you know what I mean?” he asked, hand inching closer and closer to your thigh- teasing you. You took a deep breath, grounding yourself.

You could push your hatred aside for just a few minutes. It was okay, just this once. Right?

You bit your lip, and fuck if that didn’t turn him on even more. Nodding to him, as if he could speak to you telepathically.

Yes, this is okay. Please touch me. Just a little, even is fine.

“Maybe you should explain a little more, Parker.”

His fingers skimmed the edge of your skirt, warm to the touch as they stroked your skin softly, just a whisper of him lingering. Goosebumps lingered in their wake, and you pushed your laptop off to the side, not caring where it landed on the bed. Just not next to him.

“How much more?”

His voice was low. Deep. Needing. You wanted more.

Another stroke of his fingers on your thigh, closer to where you wanted him the most made you shiver, toes curling. His gaze never left yours, never faultered. Instead of its usual lightness, his teasing and bullying- his eyes were dark with lust. Nothing but his full attention was on you, and you couldn’t help but shudder as he leaned in closer.

Another hand landed on your thigh. “Yeah?” he asked, voice rough as you nodded quickly. “Mhmmm..- oh!” you let out a little gasp as he swiftly grabbed you, swinging you over to straddle his lap, tossing you as if you weighed nothing.

You hated that you found it hot.

He smirked, leaning forward- so close you could feel his thudding heart with a small hand gesture sliding across his chest, could feel his breath catching. Just a small little gap between his lips and yours.

“You’re going to regret this.” you murdered, fingers curling into his shirt, twisting the soft fabric.

“I won’t. Will you?”

“I might.”

His smile grew.

“ I still hate you, you know.”

“I know. And you look so damn hot when you do.” He pulled you closer, fingers digging into your skin, needing you closer and closer despite the two of you practically forming one being.

A clash of teeth and tongue happened, rough and harsh- full of hate and need. A hatred for your need for him. Why did you need him? Of all people?

Because he was so fucking fine.

A hand slipped under your skirt to cup your ass, squeezing it slightly. You ran a hand through his hair, tugging on it as your hips moved on their own account- causing a groan to slip from his lips.

You’d do anything to hear it again.

“This is so wrong.” was all you could moan as his lips worked their way down your neck, tracing your jaw before nipping at your earlobe.

“I don’t do right, pips. You know this.”

“Mhm. But you hate me.”

He laughed against your skin, and you rocked your hips again, a little slap to your asscheek making you jolt.

“Whatever makes you sleep better at night, pips. Whatever you want to think.” he sighed, massaging the skin as you toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

You needed his lips on yours. You didn’t want to even try to decipher what his words meant, your head was foggy with want. You were slipping into a puddle of bliss, finally letting the restraint you held on a tight leash go- freeing the want and pure desire.

Yes, you wanted him. Yes, you hated him. And yes, he teased you. It hurt- but this didn’t. This was a soothe to his constant jabs, a salve to the wounds he caused.

“You feel so good. I want you so bad.” you confessed, causing him to moan again.

Yes. Yes, please.

“You’re killing me.”

“Good. It’s payback for the way you treat me.” you smirked, kissing him again. Hard, fast, rough. Mean.

Until he just… stopped.

Pulled away slightly, making you raise an eyebrow with confusion. His cheeks tinted slightly pink, hair messy and eyes wide with excitement, eager to keep going. To go further. So why did he just- stop?

“Parker?”

He smiled coyly.

“Don’t we have work we need to be doing?” he asked sarcastically- and you felt your stomach drop. He was teasing you. He was doing this just to get under your skin, to leave you high and dry and needing. Knowing damn well nothing could possibly get done now but him.

“You- you just want to get back to work? After that?”

“I want to do the dirtiest things imaginable to you, pips. I want to do so many things. But if we keep going and get nothing done, you’ll regret it and hate me. If we get work done, you’ll hate me too. I rather you hate me but feel secure with this, at least.” he murmured, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

It was tender, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “So you just, want to work? Did I do something wrong?” you asked.

“Gods no. But it’s too easy if I just give it to you like that. You know me, pips- I tease. Maybe if you’re good and get more work done we can have some harmless, regretless fun.” he winked, sliding his hands down to your hips, picking you up again to toss you gently on his pillows, kissing your hand with a wink as he stood to go back to his desk.

Oh you were fucked. So, so fucked.

“I heard that.” he laughed, and you buried your head in your hands. This was going to be a long three weeks indeed.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One Night🌙4

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (to be warned later in series)

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: One night changes your entire life.

for @kittykatlow​‘s 200 Follower Celebration

Note: Well, at long last you get another chapter of Andy Barber and I’m just as impatient all y’all!

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Masterlist

Andy's perfect suburban neighbourhood was enough to make you feel out of place. His house only added to that boiling insecurity as he pulled into the wide driveway. He kept his calm but taunting silence up as classic rock continued to blare from the radio, interrupted by jarring jingles and ridiculous radio jockey banter.

As he killed the engine, the sudden silence hit you like a wall. You opened the car door but found it hard to go much further. The door shut and you planted your hand against it. 

Andy startled you as he came up beside you, your suitcase rolling behind him as your large tote was slung over his shoulder. You made to grab the bag and he waved you away.

"Come on," He nodded to the house, "You said you were tired. I'll get you settled and you can rest."

You frowned but said nothing. You walked ahead of him around the front of his car and up the mosaic path that led to his front door. He fished around in his pocket and brushed against you as he reached to unlock the front door. He pushed it open and waited for you to enter.

The place looked straight out of a catalogue. White furniture!? Who in their right mind lived like this. It would be like living in a museum. You inched inside and stopped short in front of Andy as a photo of his wife and kid met you on the small side table just beside the couch. He barely kept from colliding with you.

He dropped your bag against the wall and let your suitcase go. He reached around you and took the picture. He cleared his throat and stepped away. You watched him through the wide archway that opened up on the other side of the staircase. You could barely see him as he went to the kitchen and shoved the frame in a drawer.

He returned, his eyes avoiding you and gathered up your bags. He edged past you, stopping at the bottom of the stairs to look back at you.

"Well, you coming?" He asked and started up the staircase.

You followed a few feet back as his footfalls echoed around you. He led you down the hallway and pulled closed a door as he passed. You glanced the posters on the wall and a seemingly interrupted scene still set up within. The snap of the clasp kept you going.

He turned back at the next doorway and sighed. He shrugged and nodded to it.

"I'm just across the hall," He said. "And you'll have... space."

His tone was sour and you didn't miss the tic in his jaw. He waited until you stepped ahead of him and opened the door yourself. He pushed your suitcase just inside and set your bag on the bed. A floral quilt was pulled across the top as similar flowers hung in oval frame along the wall.

"Never really had many guests," He said as he pushed back his jacket and gripped his hips. "Don't even know if anyone but me ever slept in here. You know, had a beer too many and... well, you take a nap and we'll talk when you get up."

"I can find somewhere else," You said.

"You won't," He insisted. "Not now. Talk later." He went to the door and grabbed the handle, pausing before he could pull it shut behind him. "I've got some work to finish up. I'll be in my office. Downstairs, just off the front room. Just by the Sox banner."

"Sure," You turned away in resignation. "I guess I'll find you."

A long exale came from him just before he slowly pulled the door closed. You listened for the click then hung your head. How did this man expect to start a new family when his old one still lived here? It didn't matter how many pictures he hid, he couldn't just push them out.

🌙

Once you laid down, it wasn't hard to fall asleep. The days had piled atop your eyelids and dragged you down into a heavy doze. You awoke on your side, your arm trapped beneath you and tingling. You groaned and sat up, your head ached with each move.

You yawned and looked out the window. It was dark. You rubbed your eyes and did your best to rouse yourself. The house was silent. You inched the door open and listened. You crept out and headed down the hall to the stairs. Again, you listened and heard nothing.

You descended and went to the kitchen. You found a tall glass from the cupboard and filled it from the tap. As you turned around, the rim just before your lips, you jumped at the shadow that appeared in the archway. 

Andy flicked the light on. He leaned on the wooden frame and crossed his arms. His button up was rolled up past his elbows and his hair was mussed as if he'd been running his fingers through it over and over. You choked on the water and steadied yourself.

"Hey," You coughed. "What's, uh, I was just... thirsty."

"It's fine. By all means," He uncrossed his arms and stood straight. 

He neared the end of the island that stood parallel to the sink. You set your glass down on it nervously. 

"I... just woke up. I thought maybe you were already... sleeping." You said. You were hoping, actually.

"No, not yet. You hungry?" He asked.

"Not really," You replied. "Thanks."

"You should eat. What did you have today?"

"I... um," You tried to think. You'd had half a club sandwich at the diner. "I had a sandwich and um, a cookie on the way home."

"That's hardly enough for two," He neared the corner of the island. "I'm not a bad cook. I could make you something. Or order something?"

"Really, it's fine--"

"It's not--" He raised his hand to calm himself. "It's not fine. You're carrying my child. You starve myself, you starve them. So... eat." He turned and opened the fridge. "I've got some hummus and veggies you can munch on and uh, thin crust pizza I can toss in."

He turned and set down a tupperware of celery, carrots, and cauliflower along with a container of hummus. He closed the fridge and opened the freezer with a puff of cool air. He took out a thin crust cheese and spinach pizza.

He went to the stove and held down the temperature button. He turned back and opened the box as he waited for the over to preheat. He took out the pizza and peeled away the plastic. He left it on the counter and came closer again. He pulled the lid off the tupperware and the smaller container.

"Eat," He said. "Is everything gonna be this difficult?"

You scowled and grabbed a carrot stick. You scooped up a glob of hummus and bit into with zeal, all the while staring him down. You smiled at him with mouth full and chewed.

"So, can we talk or are you going to continue to act like a child?" He asked.

"I don't know, are you going to keep acting like my dad," You huffed.

He blinked and shook his head.

"I'm open to compromise but if you're gonna be like this, I won't be so understanding," He hissed. "So sit," He pushed a tall stool towards you. "And eat."

"Yes, father," You climbed up on the stool and grabbed some celery.

"I always thought it was 'daddy'," He raised his brow. You scoffed at his bad joke.

The oven dinged and he shoved the pizza inside. He set the time and stood across the island from you. He put one hand on his hip as his other gripped the edge of the marble.

"Tomorrow, you make an appointment." He said.

"Sure," You picked out a piece of cauliflower. 

"And you can't keep working two jobs. You gotta drop one." He stated. "It's not good for you or the baby."

"You can't just make me give up my livelihood." You argued.

"Livelihood? How much do you think you make in a year? Probably no where close to twenty grand. I make at least five times. We can afford for you not to kill yourself--"

"'We'?!" You exclaimed. "Andy, there is no we."

He slapped the countertop suddenly and swore.

"Fuck's sake. You know for someone so damn helpless you sure do hate help!" He snarled. "It's like you want... you want this to go wrong. Everything has to go wrong so you can keep being the innocent little victim of your own life."

You recoiled and swallowed your mouthful. You threw the carrot stick in your hand at him. He batted it away easily.

"You don't fucking know me," You spat. "So don't you judge me."

"I know you fucked me in the toilet after about twenty minutes," He snickered.

You took the hummus and wipped it at him too. It splattered across his front and the container bounced across the counter.

"After three drinks, on top of several before," You snapped. "I don't have to explain myself to you." You got off the stool. "I don't want your fucking pity or whatever you're doing. I'm not going to be your little project."

You swept around the island but he caught your arm and pulled you back. The garlic from the hummus filled your nostrils and woke your hormonal hunger.

"Where are you going to go? You think I want you sleeping with my baby on the street?" He squeezed, hard. "And whatever you want to call it, my pity is better than the alternative."

"Let go," You wriggled in his grasp.

"You really wanna be a little bitch over a cafe gig?" He lowered his voice. "You walk out, I'll find you. I will not stop," He sneered. "You got it?"

"You're hurting me," You gritted through your teeth.

"Tomorrow you tender your resignation," He growled as his other hand came up to frame your chin. "Right?"

"Stop--"

"To-mor-row," He said decisively.

"Tomorrow," You uttered softly. "Okay?"

He smiled and nodded, slowly releasing you. He pulled loose his tie and slipped it over his head and unbuttoned his short. He slid it back down his shoulders and bared his chest. He approached the broad archway as he shed the shirt entirely. He stopped and turned to glance over his shoulder.

"I gotta clean myself up," He said. "I expect you to clean up the rest."

He left you and you squinted at the doorway. What an asshole. You took several deep breaths then took several sheets of papertowel from above the sink. You wiped the hummus from the counter and the floor and tossed the towel. You picked up the errant carrot stick as well and the oven beeped.

Everything about this kitchen was idyllic. It was the perfect suburban haven. The oven mitts, printed with an image of cheese and grapes, hung from the cupboard just beside the stacked ovens. You took them and pulled out the rack. You eased the pizza onto a plate and set it on the counter. You snapped the oven shut and turned it off after a brief struggle with the buttons.

Andy reappeared as you turned back, he wore a grey tee a some plaid pajama pants. Even in the bar, having done what you'd done, you'd never seen him without his suit. He was always the staunch lawyer man, even with a belly full of whiskey. Now he just looked like some guy.

"Two bulletpoints down," He said as he went to the drawer and searched for the pizza cutter. "I'd like to sort this out tonight. I have a long day tomorrow."

"Fine," You took the cutter from him and sliced the pizza into triangles. "What else can I do to appease you, your majesty?"

"For one, you will not be working beyond six months," He stated. "Can't risk it. Especially with those heavy trays."

"Six months? You know, they would accomodate me--"

"I'm a lawyer. You know how many workplaces are dragged into court for not accomodating employees?" He interjected.

"I'm a lawyer," You mimicked. "I get it. Six months."

"House rules," He raised his index, "Home before nine when you're not closing, but I'd prefer it if you stuck to day shifts," He instructed, "I'm pretty good about housework." He went tot he fridge and took down a notepad that had been pre-printed with a roster of chores. "We can switch off with dishes. I do laundry on Sundays but I take my dry-cleaning in on Friday. Sweeping and mopping, about once a week. I can take care of that if you can do a bit of dusting and tidying in the living room."

You stared at him. Was everything about his life so ordained? Well, surely not fucking a stranger ins a bar.

"I think I can clean up after myself," You sniffed. "Curfew, cleaning, good, got it."

"Right," He said gruffly, "And in regards to your care, you will inform me of all your appointments and medical concerns."

"Okay."

"And, I don't mind if you have friends over but let me know ahead of time," He continued. "No guys."

"What?" You chuckled dryly. "What are they gonna do? Knock me up again?"

"No guys," He snarled. "I mean it." You stared at him. You shook your head and he shoved the plate at you. "Eat."

You took a piece, the cheese stringy as it clung to the next. You bit into it and swallowed before you found your voice.

"Andy, this isn't-- we fucked in a bathroom," You muttered. "You can't think--"

"My house, my rules," He warned. "Now, you have your own room and freedom to anything inside this house. That's it. Fair trade. This isn't a negotiation."

"Fucking lawyer," You rolled your eyes. "You know, we get you in the diner all the time. You complain about the fucking food yet you're barely paying pocket change for a damn omelet then you don't even leave a tip. Write something on the receipt like 'resilience is more valuable than any bill'."

He laughed and ran his tongue along his bottom lip.

"Well, with an attitude like that, I can't imagine you ever getting stiffed..." He said. "...on a tip."

"Alright, I play by your stupid rules until this damn thing is out of me," You sneered. "That's it."

"Good girl," He smiled. "Now have a few more slices and you're free for the night."

[the-pale-goddess]

Blind - Ethan Ramsey x MC (Tiffany Addams)

The annual Edenbrook gala is all about extraordinary food, free booze, serving looks...and jealousy in every possible form. Who will crash and who will burn this night?

Warnings: NSFW (+18) Nothing too explicit this time! But obviously, suggestive adult themes are all over the story. Plus there’s alcohol, a lot of swearing and all that jealous angst we like.

Rating/Category: Mature / AU

Author’s note: This fic takes place not long after the AU Miami conference in the Miami Heat series where E&T went all the way.  I hope you’ll like the twist! It’s also kinda long - sorry about that.

Taglist (let me know if you want in or out)

@caseyvalentineramsey  @interobanginyourmom  @newcolonies @ernest-harrington @openheart12 @perriewinklenerdie @mvalentine @ethandaddyramsey @kaavyaethanramsey @lion-ess24 @choices-love-affair @justanotherrookie @rookieoh @rookie-ramsey @queencarb​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​ @doilooklikeiknow​

_____

„Ramsey, would it hurt you to crack a little smile? We're at a freaking gala.” Dr. Tanaka's teasing voice was just as annoying as his remark, but it failed to provoke any kind of emotion in Ethan. He shot the other attending a condescending glare from above his glass of scotch.

„I see no correlation.” Tanaka laughed at the blunt response, shaking his head in disbelief.  

„Is open bar not reason enough to get a little festive?” He leaned against the bar, his hand pointing at the impressive wall of liquor in front of them.

„I can afford my own alcohol, Tanaka, and I'd rather drink it, quite literally, anywhere else.”

„If you hate it so much why are you even here?” That was in fact an excellent question. Why was he still there? Ethan rubbed his brow and took a look around before responding. The spacious ballroom was already packed. All these familiar faces passing through in their best gowns, getting advantage of the night off at a luxurious hotel.

„As tedious and pointless as this schmoozing is, it's still a work duty. Everyone has to do their part.” He downed his drink and called the bartender to do a refill. In that very moment three young nurses approached the bar, standing right behind Dr. Ramsey, all of them oblivious to each other's presence. „I've been actually meaning to ask you about my lung cancer patient. Have you managed to read the file I left you today?”

„Yes. Dr. Mirani consulted with me before the recent development occured. I've allowed myself to...” Tanaka's voice dropped to a background noise when someone said her name. Ethan's attention immediately shifted to the lively chatter behind his back.

„...Have you seen Addams? Who does she think she is? A Grammy winner? This isn't the red carpet, sweetie.” All of them giggled. Ethan felt a tingle of irritation while trying to focus on his own conversation. But he just couldn't stop listening...

„Totally! That dress is scandalous.” The other nurse added. „Three mojitos, please!”

„Come on, girls. She's smoking hot with or without makep, in scrubs or in a way too revealing dress. I'd kill to have a body like Addams. You're just jealous because Scalpel Jockey is all over her, not you.” Ethan almost choked on his drink. Did he hear that right?

„I suppose she cleans up real well, yeah. But Brycey could've done so much better, is all I'm saying.” It was the first nurse talking again, her voice full of envy. Ethan's face turned red, eyes wandered to the glass he gripped with white knuckles, not paying any attention to Tanaka and his surgical rant.

„How long have they been a thing?” The question made Ethan's blood boil. Are they really a thing?

„I didn't even know they were a thing.” The first nurse theorized. „That chick's always running after Ramsey.”

„Susan, shhhhhhhh...” The second nurse whispered and the conversation suddenly died. None of the nurses realized it was already too late for shushing. As soon as they received their drinks they were gone, leaving the messy gossip buzzing around Ethan's head.

„What do you think, Ramsey?” He finally looked up at Tanaka. Fuck. Fucking fuck. Fucking fuckety fuck. What were they even bouncing around? He scratched his chin trying not to look too distracted.

„I...I just remembered. There is a matter that needs to be taken care of.” He gulped the scotch down and left the glass at the bar. „I'll stop by your office the first thing in the morning to discuss the case. Enjoy the rest of your night, Dr. Tanaka.”

Ethan whisked through the crowd looking for air. Meanwhile, his mind had a race of its own. Tiffany's seeing Lahela. So what? It's none of his business. He made that clear after the Miami incident. They both agreed it was irresponsible, unethical and can never happen again. She's his intern. The best one there was. He won't jeopardize her career development over a stupid crush. It was a crush, right? Just a simple chemical reaction, pure physical attraction....She's a brilliant and ravishing young woman – everyone would fall for her. No wonder that real-life Ken doll took his chance. Whatever. She's only his intern, he shouldn't care about her personal life. So why was she still on his mind? And why hadn't he seen her yet?

Luckily, the balcony wasn't as crowded as the ballroom. Ethan walked up the railing and sighed deeply, knowing no one in the close proximity was beside him. The chilly breeze of the night proved to be a great companion as he didn't need another dull small talk with any of his coworkers or the company leeches. He just needed a moment of peace to clear his mind, that's all. But then he heard a familiar laughter, the sound that owned his soul. Hesitantly, he turned around and his jaw dropped.

The dress was scandalous, indeed. Its milky white satin material accentuated all her curves in an obscene way. But that wasn't even the most outrageous part – the slit was the worst. The thigh-high, treacherous side slit that put her long leg on display. When Tiffany turned her back another surprise awaited – the exposed skin of her back was glowing at him. Her every move was torture and he was being punished, but he wouldn't look away. Her black hair was styled in perfect Hollywood waves that cascaded down her bare shoulders. And finally – the cherry on the cake, her full lips painted red, seeking undivided attention. She was absolutely breathtaking.

And she caught him staring. Their gaze met for the first time this evening. She didn't smile, but he could swear there was a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. She looked him up and down, trailing over his expensive tailor-made tux, fresh haircut and a flushed face, and then she had the audacity to bite her bottom lip, the movement slow and subtle, followed by a tantalizing flick of the tongue. Suddenly, he felt an uncomfortable motion in his pants. For fuck's sake, Tiffany.

The horror took a different form when a wave of his inappropriate thoughts was interrupted by a large hand that slipped on Tiffany's lower back. Ethan took a deep breath, trying to control the anger building up inside of him.

Lahela looked much like the dreamy prom king from a teen movie, with his golden bronze skin and perfect white teeth. His blonde hair, usually side swept and tousled, today made a rare slicked back appearance. He was whispering something to Tiffany's ear, but her gaze was still fixed on Ethan. What was she thinking about? And then she turned to Bryce, giggling like his very own prom queen, waving at the rest of their friends standing nearby. Except she was not some clueless chick, she was his intern. His Rookie.

Another minute of observing this bizzare spectacle would make Ethan think he's a masochist. He desperately needed a drink, but the gang was standing in the way of the outside bar. Without thinking, he took one of the champagne glasses distributed by a waitress, chugged it quickly, then took another and rushed inside.

~ A malicious rumour ~

„Please, welcome my dear friend – Don Julio!” Jackie got back to the gang's table with a tray full of tequila shots, receiving a perplexed look from Sienna. „What, you didn't believe in me? I can be very persuasive.” She moved her chest to the sides, making her tits jiggle, while distributing the shots.

„I genuinely hoped the bartender would tell you off and qualify as too drunk for another round.” Sienna rolled her eyes and glanced at Landry as if she was waiting for him to back her up, but he was lost deep in his thought. „We'll be doomed tomorrow.”

„Si, please, turning free booze down is like throwing real money into trash.” Elijah gently smacked her elbow.

„Who said anything about turning it down?” She laughed, holding her shot close.

„That's my girl!” Jackie whistled and clinked her glass with Sienna's. „Let's drink like we've won the lottery tonight!”

„Earth to Landry!” Sienna pointed at him with her shot. „Are you drinking with us?”

„Yeah, yeah, sorry...” He smiled briefly and took his glass up. „To Edenbrook!”

„Hell yeah to Edenbrook! Thanks for making us fucking plastered.” Elijah marked the toast and they all downed their shots.

„This is...” Sienna blinked and a single tear fell down her cheek.

„Nasty?” Elijah winced with disgust while Jackie grinned. „Delicious fucking meal?” The group burst out laughing and then proceeded with drinking.

„Where's Tiffany? I haven't seen her around for a while.” Sienna wondered.

„She's probably getting busy with Meathead in one of these lavish bathrooms.” Jackie's response resulted in Sienna's squeak. „Kidding, he got stuck in the friendzone. Who cares.”

„But he's also missing, isn't he?” Elijah looked at Jackie quizzically, challenging her for another take at the theory.

„Turn around, Walmart Sherlock.” They all turned their heads just to see Bryce walking in their direction with other surgical interns. Elijah folded his arms in defeat, while Jackie continued, trying to hold back a chuckle. „She said something about an important phonecall before disappearing.”

„What if something...happened to her?” Sienna's face was etched with worry.

„Well. I'm too drunk to get up...So.” Jackie pointed at the stairs on the other side of the room. „The last time I saw her she was walking down there.”

„I'll go check it out. Call me if you find her before I do.”

~

The hotel was huge. After running down what felt like a hundred stairs, Landry reached a long corridor. He wandered slowly, trying not to make any noise just in case. At the end of the hall he found another stairs. He walked down, and down, and down...Until he heard some grumbling and stopped in his tracks. He wasn't sure where was it coming from and what the sound was. Cautiously, he continued his journey, his steps as silent as possible. When he finally saw the floor his eyes went wide and he almost screamed at the sight. With the last bit of his sane mind, he took a step back, still having a good look but not in a way his presence would be compromised, and watched the scene unfold.

It was unmistakably Tiffany. Even though her red lipstick was smeared, perfect hair ruined, disheveled along with her satin dress, it was definitely his friend. Her body pulled against a man he was about to recognize...

Ethan Freaking Ramsey.

The blood drained from Landry's face. He was appalled to the core, clenching his fists until the knuckles got white. But he couldn't move. He just kept on lurking.

Ethan was kissing her neck with such force, the marks of this shameless encounter will surely bruise her skin. But she didn't seem to mind. Her mouth let out muffled moans as her hands greedily explored his body. Her leg was hiking up Ethan's waist and his possessive hand gripped her exposed thigh, sliding his fingers up and down, grabbing her skin, smacking her ass and squeezing it.

„You're mine, Rookie.” He whispered into her ear. Tiffany moaned loudly, clearly forgetting they were in a public space.

„I'm all yours.” She purred. Ethan smirked and moved his lips to meet hers. Their kiss was passionate and urgent, as their tongues fought for dominance. Their bodies were grinding against each other in an unsteady rhythm...

He's seen enough. He tried to back away. There was no reason to continue watching two people in a loving act...But it was not loving, was it? She corrupted him. She seduced him. That tricky little bitch! She wanted to win the competition but she couldn't outshine the others, so she had to come up with a plan of her own. Was Ramsey really that stupid and blind after all?

Landry's whole world crushed down and a wash of despair fell on him while trying to think of a solution. He was determined to make Tiffany pay for her deviousness. For a single minute a defiant thought crossed his mind – maybe it's a little unfair to interpret the nature of their relationship without knowing the slightest hint of their story? But it was too late, he was already blinded by his jealousy. He found himself in a position to judge, and that advantage was vindictive enough. He shook his last decent thought off and doubled back to the party.

~ A blinding revelation ~

Inside wasn't safe either. Everyone watched The Ethan Ramsey follow his nose straight to the bar. Some of the big fish already made their steps towards him, dying to talk to him. Just one more reason to get out of this horrifying event...Before he managed to place an order, a strong vanilla scent filled the air around him. The savor deeply evocative to him, despite his effort to deny its importance. The muscles in his jaw clenched. He didn't even have to look. He didn't want to look.

„Dr. Ramsey, what a surprise. I didn't think I'd find you here.” Tiffany leaned her back against the bar, a glass of champagne in her hand, her eyes scanned the ballroom carefully before they landed on Ethan. He ran the risk of looking back at her. She was even more stunning up close. His eyes quickly avoided hers, finding a neutral spot at the height of her ear.

„Where else would I be, Addams?” His brow arched.

„Literally anywhere else. This isn't a typical Ramsey environment.” Tiffany laughed softly. Ethan's gaze fell back at her face, studying it as if looking for an answer to a question he wouldn't even dare to ask himself. She noticed the cryptic staring and her cheeks flushed with a tint of red. „What did I do now?”

Ethan was silent for a moment, considering his options. The image of Bryce's hand claiming his intern repeatedly slapped him in the face, leaving him no choice but to surrender to this blind rage.

„So you're Lahela's pain in the ass tonight.” He alleged, his speech stilted and mocking.

„Didn't hear him complaining.” She shrugged, dodging a bullet and pointing her own gun at him, scratching him in defence.

„There is no conclusive evidence to prove that, Rookie. You're standing here annoying me, not him.” The intensity of their stare was hardly appropriate for the place they were in. But they were too absorbed in their interaction to register that.

„What if that was my plan all along?” Tiffany's finger brushed his hand as if by accident when she began to walk away. His eyes followed her every move, focusing on how her hips swayed, lingering on her curves. And then, in the middle of the ballroom, she stopped and looked at Ethan over her shoulder. He swallowed loud, knowing damn well what was about to happen next. She bit her bottom lip, smiled teasingly and continued her walk. For fuck’s sake.

Ethan cursed himself for being such a fool and followed her at a safe distance. She was heading downstairs, like she knew exactly where she was going. Except she didn't. It was an exciting, alcohol-driven improvisation.

A trail of vanilla scent she left behind intoxicated him to the point he failed to notice how far from the party they wandered. Judging by the long corridor they passed through, they possibly entered the hotel wing. They were finally alone. Just the two of them and a meaningful silence punctuated by the violent sound of her heels. They reached a luxorious lounge when Tiffany decided to end the journey. She leaned against a white table, sipping her drink with eyes glued to Ethan.

„Why did you follow me?”

„Why would you want to come here? Wherever we are.” They smiled at each other in agreement – they truly deserved each other. The cheeky grin on Ethan's face quickly disappeared, as he moved next to Tiffany, playing with his glass of champagne.

„I'm simply trying to avoid a very public catastrophe.” The young doctor admitted. She hopped on the table and crossed her legs, letting the material of her dress slip to the side, completely exposing her leg.

„Are you seeing Scalpel Jockey?” The waspishness of his own voice sickened him as much as the fact, that the decision to spit the question out was motivated solely by self-interest.

„Why do you care?” She looked at him staggered.

„I don't.” He responded immediately. His words, as sharp as a knife, cut her deep and she turned away. The look of sadness on her face made him bite his tongue...Only just a second too late.

„Tiffany...�� His hand reached her shoulder, but she threw it off. She remained silent for a long moment, her chest moving furiously, face hidden behind her locks. The catastrophe was on its way. When she finally regained her composure, her head angled at Ethan revealing an indignant glare.

„I'm so done with your hot and cold bullshit. You have no right to treat me like this...You rejected me. You made it painfully clear that you're only interested in Doctor Addams.”

„I know, but...”

„You know?” She got up and scoffed at him, taking a step in his direction. „You know, yet you continue this immature act. You're all jealous and possessive, but when it comes to owning it you deny everything.”

„Tiffany, your whole career is at stake here. Why am I the only one thinking about it?” He said through gritted teeth.

„Man the fuck up instead of altering the subject.” She leaned closer, unaware of the consequences, until their faces were merely inches apart.

„What's that supposed to mean?” He knew exactly what she meant. In fact, he knew way too well. Playing dumb, are we?

„Tell me now, Ethan. Right in the eye.” Her voice was filled with pain and frustration as she pointed her finger at her teary eyes. „Tell me you don't care about me.”

„What...” He blinked, utterly disconcerted.

„Tell me I can date and fuck whoever I want.” She's seen him mad before. This was something different. An entire new level of rage crossed his face. He was breathing fire.

„That's enough, Addams.” He pursed his lips and shook his head with eyes closed, as if he was trying to teleport to another dimension just to calm himself down.

„Using my surname won't...”

„Do you really think it's easy for me?” He hissed, interrupting her. „It's not like I've walked into the waiting room the day we met and decided to fall in love with an intern. Nothing of this was my intention.”

Ethan's words made her stand straight. Her face softened, lips slightly parted. They waited in silence for a minute, trying to deal with the surprising turn of events. Ethan felt the need to even his breath, when a blinding revelation downed at him.

„I have feelings for you, Tiffany.” She moved closer, standing between his legs, her hand flicked through his thick hair.

„Yes, you said something about falling in love.”

„Stop it. I know what I said.” He leaned into her touch and put an arm around her waist, a playful smile playing on his lips. She pulled his head closer, letting his chin fall between her breasts.

„I'm not seeing Bryce. I just had to see you green with envy.” Tiffany confessed, caressing his cheek with the back of her hand.

„And that worked extremely well, didn't it?” Ethan arched his brow, his hand traced her curves up and down on the side.

„It did. I think I got what I wanted.” Their eyes were still locked, his baby blues finding safety in the green of her emeralds.

„You might want to revaluate that.”

„Wha...” He didn't let her finish. With a brisk movement he stood up, catching her in his strong arms, and kissed her hungrily.

Tiffany melted into him, staining his lips Russian Red with every kiss. Her arms immediately twined around him as he blindly moved her forward until her back was pinned against the wall. The kiss deepened, making them both dizzy with its intensity. They gasped into each other's mouth while their tongues danced together.

„I see your point now, Doctor.” She mumbled when they finally parted for air. The lipstick printed on Ethan's lips made her chuckle. „How come you look so good in red?”

„I can assure you, it's not as good as your smudged look.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, inhaling her delicious scent.

„Shut up and kiss me.”

She didn't have to tell him twice. He crashed into her again with renewed passion, his hands tugging at the satin of her dress. Never breaking the kiss, she slightly spread her legs and he instantly felt the movement, pressing his body even closer against hers. The rock hard bulge begged for her attention by rubbing on her inner thigh, and she willingly complied. Her hand slipped into his pants and stroked his length teasingly through the fabric of his underwear. He moaned into her lips and gripped her ass, as they continued kissing.

„You're making me crazy, Tiffany. And that dress...” He trailed off, trying to find a proper word that matched with his unholy thoughts.

„You'd like to tear it off, wouldn't you?” The lustful glance followed by a tightened grip was answer enough and it made her grin from ear to ear. „Not so fast.”

She quickly unzipped Ethan's pants, and before he realized, she was on her knees, her slim fingers tracing the waistband of his underwear.

„Tiffany...” He was slack-jawed, unable to move. His mind went off for a split of second. Luckily, he managed to come to his senses before she pulled his pants down. He reached for her shoulders and gently brought her back into his arms.

„Ethan, let me. I want to taste you.” She whispered, cleary disappointed he spoiled the fun. Ethan stared at her in awe, trying to shake off the image of his cock in her mouth.

„No...Not here.” His hand held her jaw and tilted it slightly up. „Someone might walk in on us any minute.”

Then he began kissing her neck with such force, the marks of this shameless encounter will surely bruise her skin. But she didn't mind, she was delirious. Her mouth let out muffled moans as her hands greedily explored his body. The high slit came in handy when her leg was hiking up Ethan's waist and his possessive hand gripped her exposed thigh, sliding his fingers up and down, grabbing her skin, smacking her ass and squeezing it.

„You're mine, Rookie.” He whispered into her ear and sucked the skin behind it. Tiffany moaned loudly, forgetting they were in a public space.

„I'm all yours.” She purred. Ethan smirked, pleased at the response, and moved his lips to meet hers. Their kiss was passionate and urgent, as their tongues fought for dominance. Their bodies were grinding against each other in an unsteady rhythm, desperate to feel skin on skin. „Let's move somewhere private.”

„We need to clean this mess up first.” Ethan took a tissue out of his pocket in order to get rid of the lipstick smudges all over his face.

„It's pointless. I sucked on your lip pretty hard, you’re staying red.”

„Give me the lipstick then.” She burst with laughter and Ethan soon followed.

They did their best attempt at tidying themselves up with the minimal equipment Tiffany carried in her tiny purse. They really did. Was it enough? Probably not. Did they care? Surprisingly, not in the slightest.

„Ethan?” Tiffany took his hand in hers right before they decided they looked decent enough to head back to the ballroom. He laced their fingers together when their gaze met.

„I have feelings for you too.” She coughed up nervously. A very rare beaming smile lit up Ethan's face. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

„I know.”

[dustcloak]

A Huntress, of Sorts

The cart-wheels creaked to a halt, the chocobos at its head coming to rest nervously. The road was little traveled, but since traffic on the main causeways was filling up with Ala Mhigans returning home, there were some adventurous merchants and ‘entrepreneurs’ who thought they might save some hassle and time by taking the old backwoods paths. The Hellsguard sitting above the birds narrowed his eyes, adjusted his dusty, cracked glasses, and tried to make out the time-faded lettering on his map. He jerks as his only passenger stirs behind him, knocking loudly against wood. He looks backwards as her voice cuts through the forest’s calm din.

“Lost, or just need some fresh eyes to read your cheap map?” Her voice is gravely, slow, and just slightly slurred.

“I’m not lost, Madame Du Fortemps.” His voice is like a mountain’s wind, deep and powerful, yet still quiet, breathy. He and the Elezen woman glare at one another through the canvas tarp, and share a brief chuckle. “Still can’t believe that one worked, craziest stunt we’ve pulled off yet.” He scratches at his squared, red beard, arcing his trimmed brows as his eyes focus on the memory he has set in his mind.

“Honest, had no idea you had the chops to pull of something that out there. You ever even met an Ishgardian? Let alone a noble, just one of them traveling commonfolk?” He adjusts his posture and moves to the side, grunting as the lithe, tall woman spills out from the back and orients herself at the front of the carriage.

With one hand, she snatches the glasses off the larger man’s head, and then with the other takes the old map. She has to sweep curtains of long, ice-blue hair from her face, and detangle it from the gnarled wood of the wagon. She bites her thumb as she thinks.

“I’ve improvised stranger roles,” She admits, mumbling unintelligibly as she turns the paper over in her hands, straining her eyes until her brow creases “Honestly, what I wasn’t expecting was the reaction. Mor Dhonan’s must be naive as the seven hells, going so far below the standard fair and selling price on the goods.”

They sit in silence a moment, leaning closer to one another and both glaring down at the faded paper. Her face the picture of angular, tense focus, and his the image of a man too tired to think that hard.

“Why in Nald’s good name did you insist we use this old rag? Are we here…?” She points at a faded splotch on the border between the Black Shroud and Ala Mhigo’s mountains. She peers away from the map, catching sight of the glint of dawn, but no mountains through the canopy.

“No, no, I’ve come this way before when I used to run with Tornstar’s bunch. Got some good paths through the mountains what avoid the customs at the fort.” He sighs, then runs his hand through his hair, and then again through his beard as he counts with his free hand. “First, ye go through the old poacher’s base, through the old cave they mined out and that dingy Gelmorran lowroad, third ye keep your eyes out for the spire of the Church of the Twelve and then head West a day or two on them old backroads.” He points at a clearly marked X, boldly inked in stark black against the muted browns of the ancient parchment. “We stayed at the poacher’s rest there, and then we started going north as we’re s’posed to. Should’ve been that we saw the river by now, it runs through-” Both he and his companion drop their hands to their waists as a voice interrupts. 

“The river out of the Virdjala or out of the Northern Striped Hills?” It’s smooth, like cool water slowly sloshing through your fingers.

They search for the voice, only to have to sit up, lean forward, and look just past their chocobos at a Lalafellin woman dressed in deep-blue travel wear. Along her coat, several bandoliers and belts lay full and dutifully strapped shut. Her sunlit, sandy hair cascades loosely across her shoulders and down to the back of her knees in tangled curls. Her eyes, peering out from between stray locks, are reflective pools of emerald. She’s covered, from metal sabatons to leather shoulders of her coat, in an uneven smattering of wine-red gore.

The two look between one another, before the huge man shrugs. He looks back at the sudden stranger, the long, sackcloth-wrapped pole she’s strapped to her back, the glint of armor beneath the cloth. His eyes though, they’re focused on how she’s standing. The quiet confidence there in her posture speaks louder than any of her road and battle worn gear.

“The one what comes down from the Northern Striped Hills.” He answers tentatively, remaining seated, one hand still on the gun in it’s holster on the back of his hip.

“You missed your turn. The stream which was fed by that river got blocked off during the liberation. That stream is dry now.” The Elezen’s eyes searched for weapons, but all she could easily spot was the covered rod on the little woman’s back. A staff? Maybe, but it’s nearly twice the Lala’s height, there would be no reason to wield a catalyst that large. A spear? Too long for her to take advantage of without mounting something. A sword, then. Maybe the sheath was lost in a scrap, but she still needed to be a little discreet. Still, if it was a sword, it wasn’t suited to her. Even Lominsan marauders her size just wielded weapons made for her folk. Wasn’t like the size of the weapon is what mattered.

“You from here?” The woman on the cart says. She gets her answer, a simple and curt shake of a head.

“I’m Muddy Pond.” The man says suddenly, stepping down from the wagon. He shoots a quick glance up at his partner, shares a conspiratorial wink, and then continues. “That up there is Elaine. We seem to be lost. You’re not from here, but do you know the area?” He gets a silent nod. 

“Wonderful, could we impose on you a bit? We need to get to the town of Ala Ghana, we have perishable goods aboard.” He slaps the side of the wagon, then moves closer to her with slow steps.

She doesn’t respond, just looks up at him with an odd, distant expression. He stops about five yalms away, just out of reach if she were to turn that curtain-covered rod against him.

“Time is of the essence,” He drops to one knee, trying to even the massive disparity in height. “We’re carrying medicine for the wounded being cared for there,” He lets his voice soften, years of practice and no small measure of skill taking over as he lets his instincts guide him. “Elaine is an apothecary who’s agreed to assist the Resistance for a time. With tensions rising on the border, we need every hand on deck.” His voice is nearly a whisper as he continues, since Elaine up above doesn’t need to hear this part to play along.

“Even yours could make a difference,” He holds his hand out towards her, palm upwards. He could swear that for just a moment, her expression shifted. But then, she just walks past his open hand and towards the cart. He tenses as she passes him.

“You may call me Vara. I’ll get you where you need to go.” As her back is turned, he pushes himself to his feet and turns to Elaine. Her face is a perfect mask, gratitude written all over it. In one glance from her though, he gets a shiver up his spine. Calling her an apothecary may be stretching what his partner can accomplish. He gives her an apologetic, cheeky grin while their new company can’t see. He’ll have to get her a drink once the two of them are through with this risky encounter.

“So, Miss Vara.” He says, bounding quickly to his old seat before offering her a hand up, “What do you do? I can’t help but notice you’ve gotten yourself a bit uh, messy.”

“I’m a huntress.” She ignores the offered hand, taking the nearly six feet up to the jockey box in a single, floaty jump. She lands with surprising grace, and then shifts the load on her back so she holds it in one hand off the side of the wagon.

From the cagey reply, lack of eye-contact, and then expectant silence, Muddy breathes deep and takes the hint. He turns the carriage around, and then spurs the chocobos on with a quick whistle.

Elaine lets out a huff of air, blowing a greasy strand of hair from her face. Muddy Pond was snoring louder than an earthquake in the back. It was overselling it a bit, if you’d ask her, but he wanted to make sure their ‘guide’ didn’t open the wrong boxes. Speaking of, the woman who’d introduced herself as Vara had spent the vast majority of the time on the road quietly using a rag and solvent to clear the worst of the gore off of her clothes and hair. She refused to answer questions in more than one or two words, even when giving navigational directions. Still, Elaine could now see the mountains which split the Shroud and Gyr Abania. Once they were in the mountains, they were in the clear.

Only thing was, there was now the question as to how they were going to ditch the huntress they’d tangled up in this. Best case scenario, she just agrees to leave once they reach the mountain pass Muddy knows. Worst case, she insists on sticking around and Elaine has to knock the gloomy bitch out. She doesn’t like the sound of that. Muddy and Elaine had gotten by as long as they had by knowing when to pick their fights. Given the condition in which they found her, whoever this ‘huntress’ was, it wasn’t someone Elaine wanted to dance with. So, for the moment, her plan is just to cast a simple sleep spell, spur the birds forward real hard, and hope she gives up when she wakes.

Did she seem the vengeful type? Elaine risked another curious glance, but same as the last few, all she can see is that blank, distant expression. It was unnerving. Lalafells were always such vibrant folk, even when they were cruel and fucked they were fucked in a loud and colorful way. But Vara? If it weren’t for the occasional deep breath or sudden shift in her seat, Elaine’d never have guessed she was even awake.

Then there were the scars. Hidden by the near-complete coverage afforded by her travel-wear, Elaine could only see the faded scars on her face, and a particularly nasty, pale gash across her neck. From the width and color of that scar, it was recent, and it should have been fatal.

Must have a friend who’s good with healing magic, Elaine reasons.

But even with all of that observation done and behind her, the Elezen still can’t fully put her finger on an odd sense of familiarity she has when looking at the huntress. All cleaned up now, and slowly braiding her messy hair, she looked like something out of a campfire tale. The armor was worn down, sure, but it was obviously hand-crafted. Even a common swindler could tell as much. The thick, heavy cloth covering whatever she’d been carrying was a quilt of patterns from all manner of styles and cultures. The pouches on her bandoliers and belts carried odd herbs, softly glittering and glowing tonics, all manner of small components both herbal and mineral. A huntress, she’d called herself. Idly, Elaine stopped wondering about the truth of that statement, and started thinking on what kind of huntress would need to prepare so many resources before setting after her prey.

“Smoke.” The cold voice of the Lala jerks Elaine from her thoughts, and stutters Muddy’s snores. Her emerald eyes glance to Elaine as she too begins to catch the distant scent.

“I will return.” She says quickly, leaping from the jockey box down to the ground. She shoulders her bundled rod, and then looks back. With a moment of hesitation, she pulls her jaw tight and narrows her eyes some.

“Do not wait for me. You are on the correct path. Go and clear your debts.” Without another second’s delay, she bolts off deeper into the woods away from the beaten path. The smell of smoke grows stronger, and the air vibrates as something roars. Deep and gargling, it rumbles through the branches. At first, Elaine can’t believe their luck. She whistles loud and clear, and the birds race forward. Then, she hears the roar again, and the rattle of metal and gears. Machina? Here?

Not her fucking problem. Let the little ‘huntress’ go get herself killed, all the better that no one knows they passed through here.

“What was all that ‘bout?” Muddy pokes his head through the tarp, squinting in the evening light.

“Ah, our guide just split, didn’t quite catch everything she said. Fuck if I know, or care. Better she’s out of our hair now, than before we have to ice her for knowing too much. Ain’t no one can know we’re running somnus or that’s our exit strategy fucked and done with, regardless of what we owe or don’t owe.” She snaps, the day’s tension ripping out of her throat as the cart’s wheels carreen down the dusty road.

“I mean SERIOUSLY! How the fuck did you think that was a good plan?!” She hisses through her teeth, head whipping back and forth between the road and her partner in crime. “Apothecary? Apothecary?!” She gestures at her dust and mud-stained leathers with one hand while the other holds the reins.

“Do I look like a fucking doctor right now?! Fuck! At least make something reasonable up, damnit!”

“The hell do you know?” He growls, setting his back against hers through the thin wood separating the cart interior and the jockey cab. “You see the way she was standing? She was sizin us up the moment her eyes dropped onto us. We’re lucky I pulled on her heartstrings to make sure she didn’t do to use what she did to whatever was painting her twelvesdamned coat.”

“Oh, were you scared of a 2’8 doll with a goddamned quilt and curtain rod?” She jeers, but when she doesn’t get an immediate response, she pauses. Her snarky smile fades, and she glances back for just a second. His face is all stone and shadow.

 “Wait, you had a fucking gun. If you were scared, why didn’t you just shoot her?”

“I don’t think it would have mattered.” He says, voice solemn. “You ever see a dragon, El? One of the big ones, with the wings n’ all. Not the little shit-drakes the Amaljaa have.”

“What? Fuck no. We went over this earlier, right? Ain’t neither of us been to Ishgard, let alone Dravania.” She looks out and around as they clear the treeline of the Shroud, the forest beginning to give way to underbrush and stone. Ahead, the mountains loomed dark in the evening sky.

“They don’t do much when they see you. They just wait, see-” He begins, voice low.

“Oh come off it, I don’t have the patience for your barside fairy-tales right now.” She says, eyes tracing the dimming horizon above her. They’d have to slow down near the mountains. Should be fine.

“Not a fairy-tale. But fine. She’s gone regardless. Let’s just get to the first town we can. Sooner we get to Ala Ghana, sooner we clear our debts.”

Clear your debts. The smooth, cold voice echoes in her ears a moment. Elaine’s gut drops, an uncertain and cold feeling settling deep in her ribs.

“Muds?” She asks, voice suddenly much smaller, if still hoarse from shouting. “We’re gonna be alright, yeah?”

“I think we are. Just get us to the Hills and we’ll make camp. Need me to take the reins for a bit?” She feels his hand rest on her shoulder, heavy and reassuring. Tension washes out of her jaw and shoulders.

“No, no. You get some actual fuckin rest. You’re gonna have to take a watch tonight, so you gotta be awake for that.” She pauses, “Also, we’re stopping at the Stones to get you a new fucking map.”

“What? Mine is perfectly fine.”

“Bull-fucking-shit.”

[africareddie]

I need some headcannons for Dally having a baby sister please

okay i can just imagine his sister being like 14 so that’s where we’re gonna make her

-would be the complete opposite of dallas

-she’s like johnny basically,, the girly version of him tbh

-he’s darry overprotective but at least 10x that 

-drives her to and from school every. single. day.

-i feel like he wouldn’t hook up with so many girls and get drunk so often since he had someone to watch over 

-when he absolutely ‘needed’ to, he’d get her to hang out with the curtis’ and sleep over at their place when he did get laid or drunk

-she’d probably have a small crush on ponyboy

-he’d be so confused on why

-”the kid’s an idiot, like sure he’s school smart and all but c’mon, you can do better” 

-she doesn’t like that very much so she ignores him for like a week

-they both can hold a grudge forever, and they’re both stubborn ash

-that’s the only thing they have in common tbh

-wouldn’t give up smoking though,, she doesn’t like it much but she’s honestly used to it at this point

-she d e s p i s e s sylvia okay and sylvia despises her

-but they would act so nice to each other in front of dallas

-it’s cliche,,, but whatever

-watches his swearing around her,, literally she’s the only one he doesn’t cuss around

-definitely will get (he steals it) her a matching leather jacket

-no guy ever, and i mean ever, even dares to look at her because they know dallas will fucking kill them if they do

-even if it’s a friendly look he just doesn’t trust any guy

-tbh the only guy he’ll let her date is johnny, but i mean he’s two years older and plus she just isn't really interested

-dally lowkey gets pissed about that

-”how could you not fuc- freaking, like johnny, he’s a great guy. but no, you just haveeeee to like horseman curits”

-sorry not sorry for calling ponyboy that

-didn’t have as big of a police record as he did in the book,, y’know,, since he has a sister and all 

-i mean his rep wasn’t as big and bad as it was in the book but it was still a ‘good’ rep because of everyone hearing about what he got caught up with in new york

-they go get a milkshake together and he takes her to a movie every friday night

-he makes sure she’s doing well in school

-he wants her to make something of herself, since he couldn’t himself

-tries helping her the best he can with homework but most of the time he just makes ponyboy help her but he warns him before pony does,,,

-”if you dare land one hand on my sister, i’ll fucking skin you, understand kid?”

-pony will just be sitting there on his bed, so stiff and she already knows dally told him off

-again,, she ignored him for a week

-good job dallas jfc

-i feel like one time he’d forget about the little friday night thing with the milkshake and movie and she’d get so sad over it

-like she’d be waiting at the diner by herself for him for hours and when he didn’t show up- her heart :”)

-and she yells at him and when she storms out he genuinely feels guilty and bad 

-oKay anYways

-he gets another job besides being a jockey,, like he’ll work some shifts at buck’s at the bar just so he can afford to pay college for her

-and also to get the both of them a decent place to live for now

-he felt bad for having her have to live in buck’s but he doesn’t have a choice

-if he’s not there she has to stay in his room, if she doesn’t have to go out anywhere

-ain’t nobody gonna touch his little sister

-the place gives her the creeps tbh so she’s fine with staying in there

-he’ll surprise her with little gifts that he bought (he stole them wow shocker)

-but she appreciates it so much

-like she’ll talk about this new book she’s wanted to him and he’ll pretend not to care but he’ll remember and a few days later it magicalllyyy appears on the nightstand the next day

-tbh they might share the bed for a while but she couldn’t stand to sleep with him

-after lots of bickering dally said it was final that she gets the bed and he’ll sleep on the couch

-but a lot of nights she’ll ask if he can sleep with her 

-he gladly does and he just holds her in his arms and waits until she falls asleep before doing so himself

-she gets easily homesick

-and dally hates it but he has to remind her about why they left and why this place is much better

-they have a lot of late night talks in the dark about their life in new york and stuff like that

-they get into some deep shit tbh

-overall a very overprotective and secretly loving brother who just wants the best for her (but doesn’t show it because he’s dallas winston)

wow i got carried away,,, but enjoy!!!

[thesportssoundoff]

Alex and Joey Do A Mock Draft Finalmente

It’s NFL Draft Week! With no sports to speak of, the NFL is rolling through with its own digital event in the 2020 NFL Draft. It’ll be done entirely in what I imagine will be an ultra laggy skype chat. Either way, the 32 NFL teams will pick 253 players across three days and we’ll all be watching because what else will we do? Alex and I got together to do a mock draft at like 10 PM at night and he’s got the odds while I’ve got the evens. 

#1 - Cincinnati Bengals - QB Joe Burrow - LSU

Who are we kidding here, he's been the pick for the past like 4 months and unless someone dies, or steals all of the bandwith in Cincy? Then it's Burrow's time in his proverbial hometown. The question is where does Andy Dalton end up now?

#2- Washington Redskins- DE Chase Young- Ohio State University

There's not much to be said here. Despite having some superb edge help already on the team, the Redskins make the easy selection of Chase Young and build the sort of pass rush long term that can bolster Ron Rivera's defense and also pressure the likes of Daniel Jones, Carson Wentz and Dak Prescott. It's a safe pick.

#3 - Detroit Lions (ugh) - Jeff Okudah - CB, Ohio State

I feel like Matt Patricia, although an imbecile of the highest regard, can't possibly fuck this one up. You lost Darius Slay, you signed Desmond Trufant of all people and he doesn't move the needle. You select Okudah and get a guy who shuts down one side of the field for the next 6-8 years. Easy pick.

#4- New York Giants- OT Tristen Wirfs- University of Iowa

This pick is so for sale. The Dolphins, Chargers and maybe even Raiders will all be jockeying for this pick if the Giants want out. Rather than force Alex to live with a wacky trade scenario, I'll just say ONE WAY OR ANOTHER the Giants end up selecting Tristen Wirfs. It just fits the Gettleman playbook of being ridiculously old school in philosophy. He takes a big bodied OL to protect his QB and help pave lines for his stud RB.

#5 - Miami Dolphins - Justin Herbert - QB - Oregon

Welp, I agree with Joey about Wirfs going to the Giants, but I thought Miami and the Giants would swap 4 & 5 to get it done, with the Giants moving down a pick. That said? Let's get weird. People had Tua going here and well, he's not folks. The Dolphins make the mistake of a lifetime and continue their QB futility and select a dude who only completed 67 percent of his passes, struggled and disappeared for multiple times during the season, but he had a good Senior Bowl and combine, so that must mean it's smart. Justin Herbert is the product of the media being enamored with certain guys come draft time; either for being smart, likable, or having "intangibles"...all of those don't get you wins, though. But, he'll be servicable and with multiple picks in the first round, they can afford to reach.

#6- Los Angeles Chargers- OT Jedrick Wills- University of Alabama

I could see Tua here. I could see Isaiah Simmons here. If the Chargers are serious about Tyrod Taylor (they're not) then taking Tua or Love here would allow them the chance to develop him while Taylor gets his shot. That said I think taking a QB is contingent on the right guy being there and I'm not sure Tua  and LA are a match right now. A desperate GM/head coach combination trying to keep their jobs will take somebody who can help right now. That's Wills who will protect whoever the QB is.

#7 - Carolina Panthers - Isiah Simmons - LB - Clemson

Luke is gone, you pretty much gave the team over to Teddy Bridgewater and Run CMC,/Dairy Sanders, so you go with the local product and you secure your second line of defense before anything else. Explosive, a leader, great in coverage, he's a cornerstone. Don't fuck it up.

#8- Arizona Cardinals - DT Derrick Brown- University of Auburn

You could totally sell me on the Cardinals going WR here, especially with Fitz on a one year deal and Arizona listening to offers on Christian Kirk. I feel like Carolina and Arizona will set each other up in theory as the Cards will take whoever Carolina doesn't select out of the duo of Simmons and Brown. Derrick Brown falling to #8 feels like a monumental misallocation of resources by teams 1-7 because he's got elite big nose tackle ability. Jacksonville would absolutely kick themselves to get THIS close to Brown and not get him.

#9 - Jacksonville Jaguars - Tua Tagovailoa - QB- Alabama

Honestly, he shouldn't have fallen this far. Hip injury be damned, he was the best QB / player in this draft before the injury. People will make a huge deal of the Wonderlic score, but that's overrated, to be honest. He's a freak specimen and for all intents and purposes, I'd be more concerned if there was blood flow loss to the hip, which there wasn't. Meaning the problems come at 35, not 25. So I'm optimistic here. Plus when your starter is a dude with a porn stache and getting benched by Nick Foles who you just got rid of? You take Tua. You're stupid not to.

#10- Cleveland Browns- OT Mekhi Beckton- University of Louisville

The Browns amassed stars at every spot on the OL and then watched their poor QB get beat to hell. Baker Mayfield simply couldn't be protected and there's nothing harder to rebuild for a young QB than a broken internal clock. The best way to protect Baker Mayfield is to ACTUALLY protect him and Mekhi Beckton is a mammoth left tackle prototype who can give Mayfield a shot to develop into the stud people expected him to be. You've basically got one more year to figure out if he's "the guy" or not before you have to consider the fifth year option.

#11 - NY Jets- CeeDee Lamb - WR - OU

I feel like at some point, you gotta get Sam Darnold weapons. Lamb is the best receiver in the draft, maybe not speed-wise, but in every other facet. Give Sam a shot to be good. Give him an opportunity to have a receiver who does more than slant routes. I'm looking at you, Jae Crowder.

#12- Oakland Raiders- WR Jerry Jeudy- University of Alabama

I wouldn't be stunned if Oakland legitimately opted to take a cornerback at 12 and then a wide receiver at 19. It wouldn't shock me if they traded out of the 12th pick either or traded up. I also wouldn't be shocked if they took Tua if he slipped here because Gruden and Mayock have endless job security. All things considered, give me Jerry Jeudy at 12 which is ironic because the Raiders HAD Jerry Jeudy in Amari Cooper. We're talking a route savvy big play WR with a low key demeanor who Gruden basically threw in the towel on in less than a year. If Carr can't win with Jacobs, Jeudy and Waller then he's just not the guy.

#13 - SF 49ers - Henry Ruggs III - WR - Alabama

Emmanuel Sanders' arrival midway through last season proved how much the Niners were missing another receiving threat beyond All-Pro George Kittle and rookie Deebo Samuel. They had NOBODY. While Samuel showed real playmaking ability in the short and intermediate range last year, Ruggs' ability to burn EVERYONE gives them a legitimate big play threat every time he lines up opposite a corner or an overmatched nickelback.

#14- Tampa Bay Buccaneers- OT Andrew Thomas - University of Georgia

You don't take Tom Brady without the plans to protect him and build around him. As much fun as it is to imagine the Bucs taking a developmental QB like Jordan Love, Andrew Thomas is the easiest pick. This is an old QB and an old head coach trying to make a run in a division with the likes of Drew Brees and Matt Ryan. Thomas gives them the best chance to win and honestly represents the last of the real good OT prospects.

#15 - Denver Broncos - Kenneth Murray - LB - OU

Jeudy would have been the pick here if he lasted this long, but you get the replacement for an aging Von Miller. Ruthless, with an elite motor and a high character guy who will captain your defense in two or three years. He's the prototype LB you're looking for nowadays.

#16- Atlanta Falcons- CB CJ Henderson- University of Florida

Wouldn't surprise me one bit if the Falcons made the move UP in the draft to get Henderson. CJ Henderson has a serious aversion to contact which is normally a deathknell for a cornerback but if the name of the game is coverage? Henderson is your guy. He's big, athletic and has been getting tested vs SEC level wideouts for the past three years. My guess is every team from 14 to 20 will have some level of interest in Henderson.

#17 - Dallas Cowboys - Javon Kinlaw - DT - The Real USC

Let's make Joey happy here. There are always one or two teams that use a first-round pick on a player they simply like a lot -- even if he doesn't address a glaring need. Kinlaw doesn't necessarily fill a need other than the hole in Cowboy fans hearts that Demarcus Ware doesn't line up on Sundays anymore. Kinlaw is the best guy on the board. Take him.

#18- Miami Dolphins- EDGE K'Lavon Chaisson- Louisiana State University

The Cowboys stop the slide of Kinlaw and the Dolphins step in and take the next sliding guy immediately thereafter. A really young impressive team leader, I can see Chaisson really appealing to Brian Flores and the Miami defense that's in the midst of a rebuild. Alex gives the Dolphins their QB of the future and I give them their new Robert Quinn with a super bendy bursty stand up edge rusher who can terrorize QBs off the blind side.

#19 - Las Vegas Raiders - Patrick Queen - LB - LSU

They need a defensive playmaker, and Queen embodies that. Quick, athletic and able to change a game on a dime, I like him better than Clemson's Terrell, but wouldn't be shocked to see either one go here.

#20- Jacksonville Jaguars- CB AJ Terrell- University of Clemson

Alex and I basically alternate picking each others players here. I had the Jaguars taking Queen if he fell here but with Queen gone, AJ Terrell sure SEEMS like a dude who is a lock to go before pick 25. Long athletic and heady, I could see the Jaguars loving Terrell for his upside. He's not a Jalen Ramsey replacement but for a defense bereft of talent and in the midst of a long rebuild, Terrell fits the mold of what they're aiming to build.

#21 - Philly Eagles - Justin Jefferson - WR - LSU

So... I don't love this pick, but admittedly the Eagles do not have receivers besides Zach Ertz at TE. I think they reach a tiny bit here and get themselves a tall, sure-handed receiver who may be as good as someone like Jeudy to be honest.

#22- Minnesota Vikings- CB Trevon Diggs- University of Alabama

Mike Zimmer likes long corners who can press and have athleticism to match up with their size. That's basically Diggs. He's going to need a lot of work and he's pretty raw but I think if you squint real hard, you can see some of the same traits that made Xavier Rhodes so good under Mike Zimmer and the Vikings scheme.

#23 - New England Patriots - Jordan Love - QB - Utah State

You think I'm kidding. I'm not. Love lead a Utah State team to an 11-2 record in his Junior Year when he had Matt Wells and a proper system in place, to the tune of 30 touchdowns and 5 interceptions. He carved up the conference and lead Utah State to their biggest bowl birth ever. Senior year saw problems when Wells left to Texas Tech to replace Kliff Kingsbury, but despite a new system, losing multiple targets to graduation, and massive injuries to his offensive line, Love put up numbers. Honestly? Jordan Love is an undeveloped Pat Mahomes. Belichick isn't going to ride with Stidham for long, and Hoyer is a stop-gap. You either take the chance on Love here, or you grab Jalen Hurts in Round 2.

#24- New Orleans Saints- WR Jalen Reagor- TCU

Reagor didn't quite rewrite the Combine record books with his performance but I think he's got some of the same traits that Brandin Cooks had back when the Saints moved heaven and earth to snag him. He's got speed, he's a big play every time the ball is in his hands, he's nifty and nimble as an open field runner and he's got just enough questions about his hands to fall to around the same spot Cooks did. Reagor is bigger and stronger though which gives Drew Brees arguably the best WR trio in the league with route savvy Emmanuel Sanders, top flight Michael Thomas and an insanely talented rookie in Reagor.

#25 - Minnesota Vikings - Yetur Gross-Matos - EDGE - PSU

It's possible the Vikings will trade this pick at some point, maybe for Jacksonville edge rusher Yannick Ngakoue or for Cleveland receiver Odell Beckham Jr. (I know the Browns have said they're not looking to move him, but crazier things have happened.) But for now, Gross-Matos is the pick here, as the Vikes address two of their top three needs in Round 1.

#26- Miami Dolphins- OT Joshua Jones- University of Houston

I have a firm "no first round running backs!" rule and I intend to stick by that. As such, give the Dolphins Josh Jones out of Houston. Jones would give the Dolphins a long term developmental tackle who could play at either spot and would be pretty important in protecting their QB Justin Herbert.

#27 - Seattle Seahawks - Ross Blacklock - DT- TCU

Versatile, high energy and beefy guy to shore up a defensive line that needs a bit of help. Ultimately forsee him playing off the edge, but in the mean time? Definitely a hogmolie you want on your line.

#28- Baltimore Ravens- LB Zack Baun- University of Wisconsin

Baun feels like the sort of versatile chess piece defender that Wink Martindale would absolutely have a plan for. He's a little undersized and sort of a jack of all trades but for a Ravens team that's not exactly heavy on needs, they could experiment a little bit. Baun could play any linebacker spot in a pinch, can cover enough to not be exposed and has the high level athleticism and instincts that when married together create for a Clay Matthews-y player.

#29 - Teneessee Titans - Kristian Fulton - CB - LSU

If they're moving on from Logan Ryan like is being floated around? Then he's your replacement. He's a "Do Your Job" / Lunchpail / Belichick disciple guy that Vrabel will love. Does all the dirty work, doesn't shy from contact, great cover corner and is potent on run defense as well. Fits perfect here.

#30- Green Bay Packers- WR Denzel Mims- Baylor University

A big bodied wide receiver who can help try to coax the last year or so out of the Aaron Rodgers Era? The Packers have amassed a nice collection of guys who profile as depth wide outs but Mims and Adams gives you a scary combination of size, strength and speed on the outside. Mims has so much Dez Bryant-y traits in his game that I'd imagine Rodgers will crash the zoom call to make this pick himself if he can.

#31- SF 49ers - Brando Aiyuk - ASU

You got your speed guy earlier in the day, now you get the slot guy who is for all intents and purposes, the Swiss Army Knife receiver who can do it all. Losing Sanders was a blow, but you can replace him now with Aiyuk while Ruggs and Samuel fly along the outside. That's a dangerous trio if they play their cards right.

#32- Kansas City Chiefs- CB Jeff Gladney- TCU

If ball skills are your thing then Gladney is your guy. He's can make plays on the ball, is physical enough to challenge wide receivers and fluid enough to stay with some of the shiftier guys over short distances. You'll often hear the word "dog" haphazardly thrown around as it pertains to cornerbacks but Gladney IS a dog and eerily reminiscent of former TCU CB Jason Verrett. He's just small-ish and slow-ish, a normally deadly combination when it comes to cornerbacks in the NFL.

[sogoodishouldchargeadmission]

Thanks for Listening Ch. 1

There’s nothing like the threat of dismemberment to get you moving, I’ll tell you that much. So even after witnessing the oh-so tragic passing of Sergeant Jacob Bower and his squad, I still put together the quickest escape plan of my life, followed it to a minimal extent, and got the hell out of dodge.

The following hours turned out to be problematic for a few people. Those problems include (but are not limited to) a high-speed collision, rampant dishonesty, anxiety for a friend, a preventable skull fracture, two injuries to the same arm and one very pissed off little girl.

While I will be the first to admit that poor choices were made, not all of them were mine. So how is it fair that five of those six problems fell on my shoulders?

You’re probably wondering what you’ve just gotten yourself into by reading this. Well tough shit. It’s not my idea to give written statements every time something goes wrong out on the battlefield. Hell, it’s no wonder you have so many of these things sitting on your desk; everything goes wrong nowadays, be it a little or a lot.

Also, there’s really no point in keeping paper records; the building across the street went up in flames two weeks ago. I’m pretty sure this one doesn’t have much longer. Not to mention our very real paper shortage; starting out, I thought I’d try to write as small as possible, but screw it--I’m doing this with my non-dominant arm, and coming down off morphine. You get what you get.

I digress.

For the (apparently precious) record, my name is Corporal Damon S. Baird. Delta Squad. The following statement chronicles the events of the 28th day of Frost.

Spoiler Alert: It sucked.

***

Was I supposed to say no to a superior officer who requested help? I didn’t think I had a choice. Shit, if it was as simple as making up an excuse every time I didn’t feel like doing something, trust me, I’d be on my own private island by now. But a long time ago, I was given an angry lecture by an angry man about ‘Gears following orders’, and I was trying to do just that when Sergeant Jacob Bower of Theta Squad came to me for help that morning.

A few things on Ol’ Jacob. He was a cobweb of a man in looks and old age temperament. You know the type; wispy white hair and fragile composure, all bark and plenty of bite.

Had I heard things about him that were questionable? Yes. Did his squad have a reputation for being morally flexible? Yes. Did that make me apprehensive about getting in a vehicle with them and traveling miles away on assignment? No, and for two reasons:

Said assignment did not, in any way, contradict my own internalized code of conduct. I’m a mechanic. They wanted me to fix a truck. How could they, right?

2. I was bored, and the prospect of getting away from the congested shithole this little city of ours has turned out to be seemed like a blessing. That I could get my hands dirty under the hood of a truck was an added bonus, not that anyone reading this cares what a forgettable soldier like me actually enjoys doing. You know, what he’s especially good at, what makes him feel fulfilled. Not to point fingers or anything, (I’m actually only pointing one; front and center) but if I’d been allowed to help more often in departments that actually applied to me, maybe this whole mess wouldn’t have happened. I’m aware of the fact that I’m in demand, but forgive me for not seeing “fixing a civilian washing machine and/or toaster oven” as my one true calling.

So yes, I was easy to the guy who offered me the possibility of grease under my fingernails. Funny how no one argues about you all sitting with your thumbs up your asses all day long. I guess we’re good at what we’re good at, and we like what we like. Let’s laugh collectively. Let’s move on.

Here was the plan: the five of us take a Packhorse to the city of Hale. I’d fix a downed Centaur that had, according to them, been grounded for a few weeks now. They’d scavenge for other supplies, and we’d be back in lovely Jacinto before dinner. Easy-peasy, if only it went that way.

Some of you will remember Hale as being the city everyone wanted to see before they died; lights, cameras, and movie star shit making the place a gimmicky tourist trap that brought in crazies from all over Tyrus. Today, you can visit for the affordable price of your sanity, and bring back such souvenirs as lice and tetanus.

In other words, it’s run by Stranded--above-mentioned crazies who never left.

I wasn’t thrilled to hear that that’s where we’d be heading, but like I said, I had a bad case of cabin fever that week. You might be rolling your eyes or shaking your head at the mechanic who wanted a change of scenery during the end of the world, but guess what? I stopped giving a fuck in grade school.  

I didn’t tell anyone where I was going because I assumed Bower had that covered. Grizzled officers like him usually like to feel in charge, and--believe it or not--I wasn’t in the mood for a pissing contest. He was the sergeant. I was the private; best behavior, stiff upper lip, all that jazz. Figures, the one day that I try on a sheep costume, the wolves of the world were wearing theirs too.

I got in a Packhorse with Bower and his crew; three male Gears named Miles, Lester, and Castle. We were at Jacinto’s limits by 0800, and entered Hale maybe two hours after that. The ride there, however uneventful, was punctuated by nervous energy. Bower’s people were loud and twitchy, and even with their helmets on I could guess their ages by conversation and body language alone: Rookies, all of them, which kind of made me wonder more about Bower.

Not to speak ill of the dead or anything, but he seemed like the type of potato-faced old guy that would have an established group of lackeys more his age. God knows Hoffman plays favorites.

(Kidding!)

So the fact that Theta Squad consisted of individuals mostly under the age of twenty-five had me questioning; was Jacob Bower a wanna-be desk jockey vying for promotion by looking after the little ones? Had he lost his own crew through tragic circumstance, and was trying to redeem himself by teaching the younger generation? Was this some sort of late-life crisis?

I was thinking of a way to ask him these completely appropriate questions right as we made it to Hale. At that point, my attention was pulled elsewhere.

To put it bluntly, “The City of a Thousand Possibilities” was looking more like “Hell Froze Over, Twice.” Not that war had been kind to it these past twelve years. And the Stranded certainly weren't employing sanitation workers regularly. Or ever. But when I say we drove up to a shit-show that day, I mean a complete and utter Shit Extravaganza. They rolled out the red carpet alright, but it wasn’t made of polyester.

What I saw was Stranded men and women fighting for their lives and losing quickly against a melting pot of Locust, Wretches and Tickers under a Nemycist-riddled sky. They were along the outskirts of the city, on the freeway. Their blood looked dark, reflecting the inkspot clouds.

Bower made a sharp turn, taking us on the ramp into downtown. Through the back of the truck, I watched a Stranded woman get blown to pieces by a Boomer and suddenly wondered what the fuck was going on. We were still driving? While humans were still dying? I’m hardly an advocate for people of the Stranded variety--I have lots of colorful nicknames for them, actually--but turning our backs on admittedly preventable death seemed...inhuman. Maybe I’ve been hanging around Marcus “Mother-Hen” Fenix too much for my own good, but at the end of the day, humanity is endangered, and it seemed ignorant to act like we didn’t notice.

 At that point, Bower wasn’t being very communicative, and his kids’ nervous chatter had died down to jagged breathing at the sight of the grubs. I opened my mouth but he cut me off, using the rearview mirror to look at me instead of the carnage behind us.

“They’ve been offered help, Private. We’re here for a cause that wants saving.”

I couldn’t argue with something I knew was right. The Stranded population see us as monsters no better than Locust. And twelve years ago, they might’ve had a point; the government hasn’t always made the best choices when it comes to things like basic human decency. I was there when the hammer strikes sent millions into an ashy grave. So they’re angry, I get it. But holding a grudge isn’t exactly solving anything. If it’s an apology they want, it might be a good idea to survive long enough to hear it.

Several blocks in, the sound of battle diminished. By the time we got to the inner city, the gunfire sounded like morse code in a padded cell. Only particularly loud screams were heard. The sky was still inked to shit, though, and maybe it was those dark clouds above our heads that made my next exchange with Bower so problematic.

It’s at this point I’d like to remind you about my list of problems, specifically ‘Rampant Dishonesty’.

We parked. I didn’t see a Centaur. The only things in that town center were a few dirty tents and sleeping bags, empty food crates, five emaciated Stranded, and string lights connected to generators, illuminating the whole ugly picture for us.

Do you know which of those things Bower made a beeline for?

With the rest of Theta suddenly pointing their guns and barking orders like they weren't scared shitless, he ushered me over to the generators.

(Gold star if you guessed correctly.)

“Get them safe for travel,” he’d said.

“Sorry, what?” I’d said.

“Those don’t belong to you!” a woman said, and the desperation in her voice outweighed the anger. I turned to look at her. She was probably younger than the fifty or so years her face painted. All of the people in that group looked particularly unwell, too pale or too old or too skinny, but they were the only one’s there to protest.

It was classic urban militia; take the fight to the threat, and leave home base defenseless. It’s definitely a strategy more stupid than noble, but I still felt like a dick to take advantage of a mistake like that. Yeah, ‘all’s fair’ etcetera, but let’s remember that this war isn’t against people.

A pang of unease settled in my chest. Bower, on the other hand, seemed pleased--like he couldn’t have planned this to happen any better. I say again, planned.

“So you want me to steal them?” I asked, incredulous. We haven't seen Kryl in months, but don’t tell me that you don’t still sleep with a light next to your bed. The idea of leaving those people in the dark made my skin crawl.

“They’re for a cause, Private. Something more important than you or me, or them.”

“So, what, you’re Robin Hood now? Stealing from the poor to give to the rich? Oh, wait…”

“I’d hardly call the COG rich.”

“Yeah, but we’re better off than this.” I gestured to the skeletal individuals in the corner, who flinched at the movement. Eyes wide, faces dirty and desperate. “You’re asking me to take everything they have.”

“No private. Not asking.”

I swallowed. “Are you serious?”

And Bower leveled his pistol at me. “Quite so, I’m afraid.”

I should have seen this coming.

Blah, blah, blah.

[blackstarlinebrewing-blog]

They told us we wouldn’t win...

They told us we wouldn’t win…

Last night and all morning, Ekua and I have been thinking about our experience at #bbsession, Brew Bound’s Startup Brewery Challenge. There’s so much to share and probably many pieces we’ll write about our experience. At the end of the day, we knew we weren’t quite ready to be on the stage. We’re not going to be in bottles or cans anytime soon, so we don’t have marketing that we could display on the stage. We can’t legally sell quite yet, because we don’t have the cash/financing, to get that stuff in place; so we’re in limbo. We can’t get a damn financing or know investors who will take a chance on us. The local CDFI is even like, “nah, we’re gonna have to pass homies.” Ok, that’s not a direct quote, clearly. Then, it’s like there will maybe, kinda be funding for less than what we need and we’re just gonna have to figure it out. No, these aren’t excuses, just the reality.

Going in to the competition, we didn’t have any more beer. Quite frankly, we stopped brewing because we couldn’t afford it. We had to use a store credit we had from past purchases to buy some ingredients. Our flagships, Stokely Stout and Dat Dere, couldn’t make it because we didn’t have the cash to produce. We, as always, transparently let folks know the realities and started to raise funds, but they didn’t come quite quickly enough. Those closest to us were hesitant to support because they felt strongly we would not win. So, we did what we know how to do when we’re up against a wall, undercapitalized, poor, and bootstrapping… we made it work. We turned three batches of beer in 9 days.

As far as we know, there’s never been Black women on the stage. There’s never been queer POC on the stage. We knew, no real start-up had ever won the startup brewery challenge at #bbsession. Most of the winners were fully capitalized, had tap rooms, were in distribution, and at a stage we’ve been trying to grow too. It was a risk.

The folks at the local CDFI talk about how we would make it being undercapitalized… well, as Black folks on this land, we always do. Manning Marable said it was Capitalism that underdeveloped Black America. Right… Undercapitalizing, not funding, holding the purse strings tightly, squashing the economic liberation of a people; is simply called genocide. It is by design that the institutions and systems have “certain rules and limitations” with regards to who has access to capital. Most simply, it is called racism. We know it is patriarchy, white supremacy, and the intersections of all the other interlocking supremacy systems.

Let me be clear: We are so grateful for the funds that were received! We would not have been able to be on the stage had it not been for the widespread community support, #grassrootsreparations, and love offerings. Thank you, thank you, thank you. We’re sorry we only got the silver but know, it was our full intention to come home with the Gold.

No, I know that had we received the full $2000 in advance of our trip, we would have won. Really, we needed $2450. But we would have been victorious - Hands down. Is it worth spending half of the prize to get the W?! Absolutely. Bringing that W home meant we could come back and not have to worry about getting evicted, which is now ever pressing in our minds. It legitimizes our work. It lends us credibility, and perhaps, it would have let the folks at the local CDFIs know that we’re actually worthy. If we had the cash, this is how we would have used it:

·         $150 would have been spent brewing our delicious flagship brews: Stokely Stout and Dat Dere Ginger Beer. These would have impressed both the judges and the crowd. There have been indisputably positive, overwhelming, and enthusiastic reviews for these two delicious brews.

·         $50 would have allowed us to make enough of the Ginger Brew botanicals for all of the conference attendees.

·         $350 would have allowed us to buy a jockey box so that we could have kept the brews fresh and served them fresh to participants, attendees, and judges. Admittedly, our head retention was super low because of the beer being in growlers for days. Since we’re on a budget (what an understatement), we had to pour the beer with us when we left NC on Tuesday morning. Not ideal for a competition where folks wouldn’t be tasting until 48 hours later.

·         $175 would have been enough for us to print our marketing materials, business cards, and make sure that we had them in time for the conference.

·         $250 would have been enough for our much needed logo re-design.

·         $750 would have given us the opportunity to have the mock ups of the bottle labels completed as well as much needed new swag so that we could appropriately represent the brand. Shit, it would have been nice to have some branded growlers instead of print-at-home Avery labels, that didn’t stick, on the growlers. There’s just some marketing stuff we need to tighten up.

·         $500 transportation – So, we needed an oil change, gas, and DAMN – NYC transportation is expensive!

·         $150 for food – We’ve been super frugal and have some “government assistance” that we can use as individuals to help offset our costs. So grateful for this social program right now!

·         $75 for spiritual supplies – Absolutely necessary. We would have loved to be able to build an altar at #bbsession. However, cash was tight and we were a rolling altar.

As is typically the case at things like this where either one or both of us present, they said we were the best. We had the best pitch. They were inspired. Some folks were in tears. They called us the “people’s beer.” Many folks were really apologetic and said that if they could have voted, they would have voted for us. Ekua and I (both collectively and individually) stood by the drinks being poured and listened to folks responses when they tasted our beers. They loved it. We loved the older white dudes saying “wow!” “This is good” “Haven’t had anything like this before.” “What is this? I like this a lot” “Where can I buy it.” Our security guard friend really loved hearing people’s responses and continued to give us encouragement throughout the day. After the pitch, he was very apologetic and encouraged us to keep going. He let us know we were the best and there wasn’t even anyone else who could come close.

 It was so odd to keep hearing these comments throughout the rest of the day and evening. Later, after folks got a bit more liquored up J, we found out we were second place. Some of the judges wish they would have known more information. We wish they would have asked.

 There was a moment on the stage where I was waiting for questions. I grew up in Bel Air, Maryland; in Harford County; in the suburbs. I went to all Blue Ribbon schools. I’m a woman. I’m a Black woman. I was waiting to be asked questions so I could respond. No one ever asked questions, so I sat silent. I feel like, ironically enough, Audre Lorde is kicking me in the ass… They were drinking The Lorde. “My silences never protected me…” FUCK! Then, I watched my male colleagues (mostly white) just start speaking and responding. What the actual fuck? Why didn’t I do that? Oh, right, I was raised to be silent, respect authority, and all that female subjugation bull shit. Wasn’t it the former Sales Manager Dan Dalton who told me not to ask for people’s time, just take it. Fuck, these dudes have grown up like that their whole lives and just created space to talk and interact with the judges. Why didn’t I? Fucking patriarchy. Shit.

 So we won silver. Cool. I’m really excited for all of the collaborations, partnerships, and opportunities that are on the horizon.

However, I can’t stop thinking of other Black women who’ve been in competitions like this. They ended up not winning the competition, were clearly the best, and made great careers. Look at Jennifer Hudson. The most successful American Idol contestant. She lost to a (closeted at the time) gay white man and  super sweet cuddly bear Black dude. Jennifer was clearly the best. J-Hud has gone on to establish herself in the industry and continue to push and inspire. Y’all know I love The Rap Game… Look at Nia Kay. She DEFINITELY should have won over Mediocre Mani (at best) and Keep it Together Key (I love you, Lil Key though). Nevertheless, she kept it pushing and is really becoming solid on the young rap scene. Of course, there’s my home girl: Deetranada. Dee had some challenges but needed the win. Nova, due to skill, arrogances, and his support crew, would have been able to make it in the industry. Deetranada inspires so many, grew so much, and really focused. But damn, she’s still on the So So Def tour.

Of course, there’s always the case of HRC – Hillary Rodham Clinton. After having to concede to the young Barack Obama in ’07, she came back kicking and did great things for our country. SHE WON the popular vote, after it has been confirmed that there has been Russian interference, and still she persists. Fucking badass. They told her she wouldn’t win, she won (but didn’t), and even in the wake of all these haters, including in her party, she continues to work tirelessly for a better place for all of us.

You know, this is not new. Black culture being told its second rate. Let’s look at “Living Single”. The white version of this became wildly popular and created stars. It was called, “Friends.” Or let’s look at “Waiting to Exhale.” I’ve never met a Black woman who hasn’t seen this movie. For us, it was a first. It pretty accurately captured our experiences. Of course, “Sex in the City” was the spin off. Our culture wasn’t enough, it was too different, too unique, and too authentic. But not so much so that white folks wouldn’t want to experiment with it and launch their own.

On the intentional sweetness of our beers: We know our folks. Our folks love sweet drinks: kool-aid, sweet tea, and so forth. How many types of juice or soda (Fuck high fructose corn syrup), do you have in your fridge right now, folks of color? The industry depends on us having this sweet tooth. Folks capitalize on us having it and have made our folks addicted through the harmful additives. We know this and want to queer this a bit. AND, we know folks love smoking and drinking. The bitterness of the cigarettes or other rolled sweets necessitates something sweet and refreshing. But again, it’s not their market or culture to understand UNLESS it can make them money. Here’s the secret: it can and it will. We’ll be the beer pioneers on this front.

This mindset of the liberal whites at this conference helps me to understand the mindset of those who voted for Trump against their best interest, right? They were and are so tied in to the system that they literally cannot conceive another way. The misappropriations of their power were astounding. The cowardice was something I could never truly comprehend. It’s like its easier for them to uphold the system that do something as so radical as voting with what’s in the heart. To contextualize: what’s the worst that could have happened if we won? Empowerment of Black, queer folks living on the margins? Affirming the dignity and value of something that’s unique and distinctive that the industry just spent an entire day saying it needs? Supporting the authenticity that was so vividly described in discussed in the opening? Or perhaps, just taking a chance. Folks take chances all the time, especially as related to our freedom and liberation. Think about the folks that voted for Trump just because they couldn’t vote for a woman. “It just didn’t feel right”, they said. I heard these people say just that as I stood with them for hours outside of Lenoir-Rhyne University waiting to see him.

Look y’all, folks talk the talk about being authentic. But when you’re Black, you can’t be too authentic or too real because you’ll scare whites. Right? The back lash to white folks realizing their privilege and their agency to be change-makers, is and has historically been to uphold the status quo. It’s frightening to be the ones to be change makers and quite frankly, most folks don’t have the courage. It was so fucking awkward to be at the after party and overhear folks talking (in their quiet white circles) about how they thought we should have won, how inspiring we were, what could they do, did they know *insert X fact that we shared*. This happens so frequently in situations like this. Where we could have won, did not, or where we could have received funding, or a place to call home, whatever!... and then folks find out more and are deeply saturated in their white guilt and shame. 5 people literally began to tear up and cry on that roof top. How was I supposed to hold space for their sorrow, guilt, and shame while still processing that we lost, juxtaposed with folks saying we were the best, the best they’ve ever seen, etc.? Uh, what? I think about what my father told me… it is these types of folks who allowed lynchings to happen in his home state of South Carolina. It is these folks who may have voted for Trump. And it is these folks that we’ll continue building with because this is our work and the work of #blackstarlinebrewing. This is the work we’re being called too. This is why its imperative for Black Star Line Brewing to exist now, to radicalize these spaces, and to help us (as our new friends at Good City say) “seek the good”.

And yes, it’s pretty awesome that we cranked out these brews, in 9 days, on our homebrew equipment, and got the silver. That’s fucking badass. So yes, they told us we wouldn’t win. But I’m certain they weren’t expecting us to get the silver!

 All of this to say, hell yes – we are so grateful to have been at the event, make connections, have a platform, and let the industry know we’re on the come up. We’re blessed beyond belief and never imagined even competing in something like this. We’re so grateful for the prayer warriors and those who held us in the light. Grateful for Gma’s prayers with Starla cooking in the background and Jo eating too many cookies. We’re grateful Bishop prayed over us and anointed us. We’re grateful my Pop (Larry) prayed fervently. My family held us in prayer and in the light. The community was on their knees, we felt it. Thank you. We’re so appreciative of all of the affirmations and commitments for collaboration, assistance, mentoring, and support. We’re following up with all of y’all! Black Star Line Brewing Co. is the new kid on the block and we’re changing the scene, y’all.

Well, folks kept asking “What’s next” for Black Star Line Brewing Co. Most immediately, we’re gonna figure out how to get this $ so we can pay rent and not be evicted. We’re gonna figure out how to get out here and start pitching more. We HAVE to figure out where this funding is going to come from so we can actually get out here and start brewing. Where are all these white, liberals, and progressives who voted for Barack Obama and Kamala Harris? Where are these kick ass beer folks who are so interested in transforming the industry and want to talk about diversity? Note: diversity is very different than inclusion or even intersectionality. Diversity is the polite white way to say we have a problem with all the homogeneity, and we don’t know how to fix it, but we’re afraid to do anything other than what we’re doing now, because there might be too much of y’all; what’s the minimal thing that we can do to not get ourselves screwed, sued, and look like white supremacists? And we certainly can’t have more of you than us! So help us diversify, good darkie.

What’s next is that we’re gonna continue to grind. After all, we’re a grassroots, family centered brewery launching a social movement rooted in self-determination, social entrepreneurship, collective economics, and our collective healing and liberation. We’re creating pathways out of poverty for folks, including us. We’re strong. We’re resilient. We are #blackstarline.

[maritime-peacock]

100 Questions: Goldie!

It’s so long~ _(:’3 」∠ )_

1. What is your full name? Do you have a nickname? “My name is Goldie May Miller. When I was little, my friends called me Dee Dee. I had a fling that called me 24 karat, it was a really stupid pet name but it was kinda cute..”  2. How old are you? When is your birthday? “I’m 26. My birthday is November 21, 1991. Funnily, my birthday is the same as Goldie Hawn’s~ so my mom wanted me to share a name with her, too~ which is cool cuz Goldie Hawn is an amazing actress!” 3. Where were you born? Where do you live now? Are you patriotic? “I was born in Carson City, Nevada. It’s a pretty nice place, got some good history. I live in Vegas now with my boyfriend, which is pretty rad cuz Vegas. As for patriotic? Oh, yeah...good ol’ USA and shit...woo woo.” 4. Who are/were your parents? (Names, occupations, personalities, etc.) “Eehh...I don’t really know who my dad is. I’ve come to terms with the fact that he didn’t want anything to do with me and my mom. It’s whatever. My mom? Her name is Suzette Nicole Miller. When I was still home, she was a desk jockey; sweetest woman this side of the Mojave. Made sure I had the best we could afford...I miss her sometimes...” 5. Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like? “Nah, it’s just me.” 6. What is your occupation? “I’m a cocktail waitress at my man’s casino. Not super glamorous but it puts money in the bank.” 7. How tall are you? How much do you weigh? “Ah, jeeze...last I checked I was 5′5″? 125? I think? I don’t remember..” 8. What color is your hair? What color are your eyes? “Oh, I’m a natural blonde, baby~ My eyes are a nice storm grey~” 9. What is your race? “Uh? Race? Like, ethnic origins? Caucasian...”  10. To which social class do you belong? “Social class? High Middle class, I guess? I don’t fucking know, James might know...” 11. Do you consider yourself to be attractive? Do others? “Honey, I have to beat everyone with a stick~ I take very good care of my body and I like showing it off~” 12. What is your style of dress? “Well, if I’m not down at the club, I’m in a pair of shorts and a tank top. Clubbing, though, get me a mini dress and heels and I’m set~” 13. Do you have any scars? Tattoos? Birthmarks? Other unique physical features? “No, nothing special about me, I’m super boring.” 14. Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses? “If you call men in suits a physical weakness, then fuck yeah I do~” 15. Are you right- or left-handed? “I’m a lefty...!” 16. What does your voice sound like? “Uh, I’d like to think it’s a little on the high side?” 17. What kind of vocabulary do you use? “A lot of swearing~” 18. List three quirks or other defining characteristics. “I play with my hair when I get worked up...when I’m drunk, I’m suuuuuuper giggly and as outgoing as I am, sometimes I don’t like talking to people!” 19. How often do you bathe? Do you wear perfumes? “I bathe every other day, maybe more often depending on how much time I spend on the casino floor. I wear a lot of perfume cuz I like smelling nice...and James likes it~” 20. What kind of facial expression do you commonly wear (dour glare, wry smile, etc)? “James says sometimes I have resting bitch face. Which is fine, I guess, cuz I’m not easily entertained! *laughs* If I’m bored, then yeah, I’d imagine I’d look a little bitchy. When I’m working or out and about, I’m usually smiling...!” 21. Do you use body language? How? “Body language is one of the best ways to communicate, in my opinion. And when you have a body like mine, it speaks volumes~ When I’m working, I usually try to show that I’m pretty relaxed and friendly. At the club, though, I have to show that I’m in charge and I know what I want.” 22. Do you have a commonly used saying? “’What the fuck?’ *laughs*” Childhood 23. What is your earliest memory? “Uuuhhh...my fourth birthday, I think? It was when my mom got me my first Barbie doll... *blushes* It was one of the older ones, back when my mom was little...I took such good care of that doll, you would not believe...” 24. How much schooling have you had? Did you enjoy it? “I have finished all schooling except college because I didn’t have the money for tuition.” 25. Where did you learn most of your knowledge and skill? “High school...it’s the threshold that turns a sweet little girl into a confident young woman..~” 26. How would you describe your childhood in general? “Nice? I had as good of a childhood as my mom could manage..” 27. As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? “Oh geeze, it varied really...I was hopping between singer to dancer to actress to model and then would do a 180 and change it back to singer.. *laughs*” 28. When and with whom was your first kiss? “My first kiss would have to be when I was in middle school. It was actually with this girl I thought was super cute in my Algebra class. Gingers~ gotta love ‘em~” 29. Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity? “*giggles* No concept of virginity here~! I lost it back in my Junior year of high school. Water polo captain~ Mmf~” 30. Do you have a notorious or celebrated ancestor? Does that affect you? “Mmmmmmm, no.” Influences 31. What do you consider the most important event of your life so far? “So far...? When James pulled me out of the dirt...I was so scared when he pulled me away from the Black Jack table. I thought he was gonna kick me out...but he took me to dinner, asked me what was going on and offered me a job...” 32. What do you consider your greatest achievement? “Not killing myself? I don’t know, I haven’t really achieved anything...” 33. What is your greatest regret? “Breaking my mom’s heart....” 34. What is the most embarrassing or shameful thing ever to happen to you? “I dated a girl that was into cutting while fucking...she’s probably the only thing I’m ashamed of..” 35. Do you have any secrets? If so, what are they? “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore~” 36. What is the most evil thing you have ever done? “Rocco, the poor baby - he’s head honcho security man at the casino - I bribed him into playing boyfriend at the club one night while James was away for business. And, yeah, that doesn’t sound super evil, I know, but the guy is addicted to peanut butter and banana anything and he will do whatever to get his hands on it. I felt a little bad when it was said and done so I took him out to get shakes on his days off. He’s a sweetheart for 290 pounds of pure fucking muscle.” 37. When was the time you were the most frightened? “Have you ever lived in your car before? Ever had just enough to afford food for the week? Ever wander into a food mart and wonder, ‘are they gonna catch me stealing this time?’ because you haven’t eaten in days? That was me for almost a year...” 38. Have you ever traveled outside of your country? If so, to where? “No, I haven’t left the States before..” Beliefs 39. What is your alignment? “Alignment? Hang on, lemme Google that...uuhh...oh! Like D&D stuff! I don’t really play D&D but lemme skim through the Wiki here...uuuhhh...Chaotic Good sounds about right!” 40. Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic? “Pessimism gets you literal shit karma and I do not need any more shit karma. I try to be as optimistic as possible.” 41. Do you believe in a god? If so, which one and why? “Uh...yeah...no, I don’t really believe in that anymore...well, I mean, kinda? Some of my mom’s beliefs stuck with me...there might be a God, but I’m not so sure he’s as strict as everyone says he is...or she...or they...” 42. Do you believe in an afterlife? “No, not really...” 43. What is your greatest fear? “Losing my job! *laughs nervously*” 44. What makes you angry? Sad? Happy? Why? “You wanna make me mad, come try and butt into my personal and sex life. I’ll show you mad. Sad, though? I mean...seeing an empty bank account makes me sad...not being able to spend a whole lot of time with James makes me sad...sometimes Rocco gets into fights and that makes me sad cuz Rocco is my bestie! I’m happy when I’m working, out enjoying the Vegas strip, being with James and Rocco and the friends I have who I work with...” 45. Do you think people are basically good or basically evil? “I believe we all have the potential to do and make good or bad choices which lead to certain lifestyles and ways of thinking, yeah...down to basics, good and evil is just a concept of thought...” 46. What are your views on politics? Religion? Sex? “I don’t much care for politics. Religion? Hey, as long as you aren’t telling me that I should live by a certain religion, you do you. Sex? *giggles* It is a very enjoyable experience that everyone should have at least once. But only if you both consent to it!” 47. What are your views on gambling, lying, theft, and killing? “Gambling is fun, really, but you shouldn’t stake literally everything on it. I watch a lot of men throw away their lives for gambling and it’s really upsetting to see. Lying? I don’t believe you should lie unless there’s a good warrant for it. I’ve never had a good enough excuse to lie so I’m not really ever dishonest. Theft. I’ve had to steal before. It’s not an agreeable thing to do, but I don’t believe you should steal just to steal. Killing is a no go, it’s a stupid and petty thing to resort to.” 48. How far will you go to defend your beliefs? “Some of these things I’ll fight tooth and nail to defend. But, I know when to back down when someone makes a better point..” 49. How much do you value money? “It makes the world go round. People tell you all the time that it doesn’t buy happiness but I think it’s just a matter of how you view it.” 50. In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do? “I’m not really entirely sure...damning any one person or people for X thing and then extreme punishment for it is pretty evil...” 51. Do you believe in self-sacrifice for the greater good? “Eh? It depends on what you’re sacrificing yourself for...the greater good is so fucking vague, give me a better excuse to go off and get myself killed.” 52. Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love? “For a long time, no...I thought it was a stupid idea. But, like...I’m happier now with James than I have been in years, so my view of the subject is changing...” 53. Are you superstitious? “A little! Kinda comes with growing up with a super religious mother..” 54. How much do you respect the beliefs and opinions of others? “Golden Rule, baby: Treat others the way you yourself wish to be treated. Even if I don’t agree with your beliefs or if I don’t like your opinion and I think it’s absolute shit, I’ll still respect what you have to say. Who am I to tell you that you’re wrong for thinking that way?” 55. How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings? “I’d say pretty honest. If I don’t like you, I’m not gonna lie to you and tell you I think you’re a great person. But I mean, I’m not gonna be blunt as fuck and be a cunt about it either.” 56. Do you have any biases or prejudices? “I think everyone is at least a little biased and prejudice. No one is a fucking angel. Everyone is a little nitpicky about how they view people and the world, it’s how you handle it and express it that matters.” Dealing With Others 57. Who is the most important person in your life, and why? “Oh my Goooood, I’ve been talking about him the whole time...! My savior, the sweetest boyfriend in the whole wide world! He saved my life, man! How could he not be super important?” 58. Who is the person you respect the most? Despise the most? Why? “I still respect my mom, even if we had a huge falling out. She’s always been there for me and she’s always done everything she could. Despise? *eyes narrow* There’s this, uh...working girl...at the casino. She’s a dancer, to put it politely. She has the most porn star name I have ever fucking heard in my life. Hunni Violet Byrd. I could not make this shit up even if I was drunk. That is her legitimate birth name, it is on her birth certificate, honest to God her mother named her that. She cozies up to James whenever he’s wandering the casino to check on things. *fumes*”    59. Do you have a significant other? Who? “My boss.” 60. Do you have a lot of friends? Who is your best friend? “I haven’t talked to a lot of my friends from high school in a while...I keep in touch with some of them and I have friends at the casino. My bestest friend ever is Rocco. Ooh, he’s such a cupcake!” 61. How do you relate to members of the same race? Class? Sex? “I relate pretty well, I guess...I’m not sure how to answer this question, honestly..” 62. How do you relate to members of a different race? Class? Sex? “Same as the last question...” 63. Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened. “James, I guess, - as cliche as it sounds - would be my first love...you can’t really describe a feeling like that adequately...” 64. What do you look for in a potential lover? “Well, when I just wanted sex - and depending on what I was ‘hungry’ for - if I wanted some good dick, he had to be buff. Not overly so, but he had to have some yummy muscles on him. And he had to have that ‘I know what I want and I’ll take it by force’ kinda mindset. Mmf~ Now, if I wanted some lady company, gingers gained bonus points. Not too thin, but there had to be some curve to her. Confidence drives me wild. *fans self*” 65. How close are you to your family? “I’m not.” 66. Do you want a marriage, family, and/or children? “Uuhh...maybe? I’m not sure, it sounds nice, but I don’t think I’m ready for any of that...” 67. Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict? “I am combative if you instigate a fight over something that doesn’t or shouldn’t concern you. But, I try to be the bigger person when I can..” 68. Are you a listener or a talker? “More of a listener...but I talk a lot, too...” 69. How long does it usually take for you to trust others? “Not very long if I get a good feel of them!” 70. Do you hold grudges? “Maybe a little..” 71. Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations? “If someone can do it better, let them lead..” 72. Do you like interacting with large groups of people? “Oh, yeah! I’m a social butterfly!” 73. How well do you express yourself? “I’d like to say very well~” 74. How quickly do you judge others? “God, it’s such a bad habit, I try not to, honestly...but it just happens sometimes..” 75. Do you care what others think of you? “Not particularly, no. So long as they keep it to themselves, or don’t come off as a dick about it.” 76. Do you have any enemies? How or why are they your enemy? “Enemies? No...I don’t think I do. A rival, maybe, if you could call her that.” Personal Taste and Opinions 77. What is your favorite pastime? Color? Food? Possession? “When I can, I go to the bar to kill time, if not, I’m usually in the penthouse doing yoga. My favorite color is blue. All blues, any kind of blue, I love it. Food? I am a slut for taquitos and guac. Possession? I have this ring my mom gave me when I was in high school...it belong to my granma...” 78. What are your preferences in arts and/or entertainment? “Arts? I like music...entertainment, I read a lot of shitty Cosmos and Vogue.” 79. Do you smoke, drink, go whoring, or use drugs? Why or why not?. “*laughs* Go whoring? What the fuck? Is that a rude way of asking if I do one nighters? I used to, yeah, not anymore. I don’t smoke, but I drink - no beers, beer is so nasty. I don’t use drugs outside of pain killers. Why? Cuz I can say I have. You can’t have fun if you don’t try it first. I don’t do drugs though because I like being focused and not in orbit.” 80. How do you spend a typical Saturday night? “I work Saturdays. *laughs*” 81. What is your most cherished fantasy? “Are we talking dirty fantasies? I can’t divulge that information, it’s sensitive~” 82. How long is your attention span? “Get me interested, and I am 100% focused. However, I’m starting to lose interest in these shitty questions..” 83. Do you laugh a lot? What do you find funny? “It’s not very hard to get a giggle out of me, I’m a giggly bitch by nature. *grins* I always get a kick out of really bad one liners.” 84. Is there anything that shocks or offends you? If so, what? “I’m offended by people who assume I’m a tart because I’m dating my boss and I’m confident in my appearance. Like, wow, really? That’s fucking rude.” 85. How do you deal with stress? “Yoga. Lots and lots of yoga.” 86. How much athletic ability do you have? Artistic? “Athletic? Um...I’m not really sure, I was never really sporty...I go for jogs but that’s only to keep myself looking good. Artistic, I’m really good at decorating. *giggle*” 87. Do you like animals? Do you like children? “I love animals. Love, love, love, love, LOVE. I would love to have a cat but James doesn’t want pets in the penthouse. *shrug* I love kids, oh my goodness. They are so cute and sweet.” 88. Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan? “I am spontaneous, plans are for stuffy businessmen (I love you, James!)” 89. What are your pet peeves? “I cannot stand nail biting. Or hovering.” Self-Image 90. What is your greatest strength as a person? Weakness? “My strength is probably my self-esteem. I’m very proud of who I am even if no one else is. Weakness? Sometimes I worry over little things, trivial and petty things..” 91. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? “I wouldn’t...I like who I am.” 92. Are you generally introverted or extroverted? “I’m an extrovert. *laughs* I love going out and meeting people.” 93. Do you like yourself? “I love myself.” 94. Do you have a daily routine? How do you feel if your day is interrupted? “My daily routine when I work is get up, shower, eat breakfast, do some cleaning if there are any messes, get ready for work and then let James know I’m heading down. My days off, I usually sleep haha!” 95. What goal do you most want to accomplish in the next six months? Your lifetime? “Stay in a stable situation, I am not living on the streets again.” 96. Where do you see yourself in 5 years? 10 years? 20 years? “I hope I’m still with James in that time span...if not, then, I’m not sure...” 97. If you could choose, how would you want to die? “Oh God, please take me in my sleep.” 98. What is the one thing you would like to be remembered for after your death? “I would hope people would remember me for the person I was..” 99. What three words would you use to best describe your personality? “Loud, Proud, and Uninhibited!” 100. What three words would others probably use to describe you? “Whore, Drunk, and Gold Digger! *laughs loudly*”