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bellakitse · 4 years ago

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Carlos and Grace save the world

Carlos is surprised at first when Grace seeks him out, but when she explains that she’s worried about her neighbor possibly being abused by her husband, Carlos instantly agrees to help.

They become friends.

The story I wish they had in 2x05

(I started working on this about two weeks ago when we heard that Grace and Carlos would have a story together in the last episode. I then put it on hold to work on the tarlos valentine’s event. At the time, I was worried that the story would be pointless after the episode, and then the episode happened, and the story was given about a minute of airtime, so I figured I would finish this.)

Warnings for: Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Threats of Violence, and Knife injury.

Carlos will admit he’s a little surprised when Grace seeks him out. They don’t really know each other that well. The only interaction they really have is when he’s answering one of her dispatch calls. Or when the 126 is having some kind of gathering at the station like now.

Still, they don’t really talk.

“Officer Reyes?” she greets him with a tentative smile, coming up to him as he pours himself a glass of water. Around them, the 126 and extended friends and family mingle. They’d finally come together to honor Tim the way they couldn’t when the wildfires were roaring.

“Mrs. Ryder, hello,” he answers politely. He points at the pitcher of cold water in his hand, offering to pour her some.

“I’m good,” she answers with a shake of her head and another smile. “And please, call me Grace.”

“Only if you call me Carlos, ma’am,” he gives her a smile of his own; it grows as she lets out an amused chuckle and nods in agreement.

“Okay, that’s a deal.”

“Good,” he says jokingly. He puts the pitcher back in the fridge before turning to give her his full attention, frowning when he finds her fidgeting, shifting from foot to foot nervously. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m not sure,” Grace blurts out, looking as surprised as him. “I wanted to talk to you about something, but now I’m not sure if I should, or if it’s any of my business – or if I’m even just imagining things and overreacting.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow at the woman’s run-on sentence. “Well,” he starts off slowly and with caution. “I know we don’t know each other very well – ”

“We should change that,” Grace interrupts him with a kind smile on her pretty face.

“I completely agree,” Carlos concurs, liking Grace’s welcoming presence even before this conversation. “But what I do know about you is that you just don’t seem like the type of person who overreacts. So why don’t you tell me what’s going on, and we’ll see if I can help,” he finishes with what he hopes is an encouraging look.

“TK got himself a good one,” she says with a fondness that makes him blush slightly. “Okay, so I have this new neighbor, Rosie,” she starts to tell him.

Carlos listens as Grace explains about the newly married couple on her block, Rosie, a jumpy young thing, and her husband, Derek. He frowns as Grace tells him about her first encounter with them, the way the girl went from friendly and lively when they were alone in her front yard to subdued the moment her husband showed up.

“I can’t explain it,” Grace lets out a frustrated exhale. “He was friendly enough; he didn’t grab her in any way that would raise concerns, and yet alarm bells went off the moment he walked up to us. Even as she was smiling, there was something in her eyes that has stuck with me.” Grace sighs again. “Like I said, maybe I’m overreacting, looking for trouble where there isn’t any.”

“Grace,” Carlos starts with a shake of his head. “I have been on a number of your calls, and I hear you over the radio. You are an amazing operator because you have good instincts. If you’re worried about this girl, I don’t doubt you saw a reason for it. What does Judd say?”

Grace’s expression softens at the mention of her husband, her eyes shining with love and affection. “I haven’t told him yet. Judd, bless him, is so tenderhearted and protective. If I said to him that I think something is wrong with this slip of a girl, you better believe he would be pounding down their door before we even find out if something is really wrong.”

Carlos gives her an understanding smile. “Sounds like TK,” he tells her, earning a chuckle in return.

“Why do you think they clashed when they first started working together?” she questions with a twinkle in her eye that lets him know she’s heard as many complaints about TK from Judd as he’s heard from TK about her husband. “Those two are reckless softies who want to save the whole world, and if no one is there to check them, they dive in headfirst,” she says with a pointed look at him.

“Is that supposed to be us?” he questions jokingly. “We’re going to keep them in check?”

Grace shrugs easily. “Well, I married mine, so I pretty much signed up for the job. You’re still dating, so that’s up to you to decide.”

“Can you be my support group?” he questions. It’s not like he really needs to decide after all. He might not be married to TK yet, but he has known since the night of the solar flares and maybe even before that, that it’s his job to keep TK safe.

Grace grins at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners from her smile. “We can meet on Wednesdays for pie.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Carlos says easily, only half-joking. He likes Grace’s easy energy and can see himself becoming good friends with her. “Now, how do I help you with Rosie?”

֎֎֎

“You and Grace were talking for a while back at the station.”

Carlos looks up from the book in his hand over at TK as he comes out of the bathroom into his bedroom. He licks his lips as he takes his boyfriend in, dressed only in a pair of grey sweats that rest low on his hips.

“Carlos?” TK questions as he runs a towel over his hair, a smile taking over his face when Carlos jerks his gaze from all the tantalizing skin.

“Huh?” he questions, blinking a few times, hoping to focus. He blushes slightly at the knowing chuckle TK gives him in response.

TK throws the towel in the hamper before he crosses the distance to him. He presses a knee on the bed by his thigh, throwing the other over him.

Carlos quickly drops his book on the bedside table, freeing his hands to place them on TK’s hips as he comes to sit on his lap. He runs his thumbs over the soft skin right at the edge of TK’s sweats. This time it’s his turn to smile in satisfaction as the simple touch causes TK to shiver under it, his eyes going hazy and soft as he looks down at him.

“Don’t think you’re distracting me,” TK accuses him softly, even as he sits more firmly on Carlos’ lap, arching into his touch as he moves his hands from his hips to his back, fingers touching the constellation of freckles he now knows by memory. “You two looked deep in conversation. Is everything okay?”

“Grace has a neighbor she’s worried about,” he tells him, watching as TK goes from soft to tense and alert. “She has a bad feeling about the woman’s husband and asked for my opinion as a cop.”

TK frowns, concern replacing the previously touch-induced daze on his face. It’s not surprising to Carlos in the least. He’s pretty sure he’s never met anyone more empathetic than his boyfriend.

“Does she think he’s hurting her?” he asks, worrying his bottom lip in distress.

Carlos runs his hands up and down TK’s back once more, this time not to arouse but comfort. “Maybe,” he says with caution. From everything Grace told him, he understands her worry, but he also doesn’t want to make up an opinion before having all the facts. “She’s going to visit her tomorrow with some food as a late ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ thing, and asked me to tag along.”

TK bites down on his lip even harder, causing Carlos to reach up and press his thumb against it until he releases it. “Hey,” he starts softly. He tips TK’s chin to look at him in the eyes. “It’s fine. I’m just going for support and to offer a helping hand if there’s something to Grace’s concerns.”

“You’ll be careful?” TK questions, his voice low and worried. “Domestic situations have a way of spiraling out of control quickly.”

“Of course,” he answers, tugging TK forward. He lets out a content sound as TK settles on top of him. He turns his face into TK’s damp hair, giving it a kiss. “Everything will be fine, I promise,” he whispers, holding his boyfriend close.

Later, the promise will ring loudly in his ears.

֎֎֎

“Relax,” he says to Grace quietly as they stand on Rosie’s front steps. He arrived at the Ryder’s home thirty minutes earlier and waited as Grace finished her peach cobbler before they crossed the street, food in hand. “You’re just being friendly, and I’m tagging along for the ride.”

“Right,” Grace murmurs back as she presses the doorbell. She spares him a look with a raised brow. “That’s a nice shirt, by the way.”

“TK got it for me a few weeks ago,” he says, running a hand down the light-weight cream color polo. “The color makes me look less intimidating, don’t you think?”

Grace’s mouth quirks upward in amusement. “Carlos, sweetheart, you’re massive. I don’t think a soft-colored shirt will hide what you’re packing. Luckily you have a kind, gentle face to balance out all those muscles.”

Carlos grins at her, his smile growing when she rolls her eyes at him. “Yeah, you’re cute,” she mocks sarcastically, her dimples winking at him.

Carlos laughs at the begrudging compliment and Grace’s teasing ways. It reminds him a lot of his sisters and the way they gently like to mess with him. He’s still mid-laugh when a young woman with long light-brown hair and big green eyes opens the door. Her eyes remind him of TK, and he instantly feels protective of her. He remembers Grace calling her a slip of a girl, and he understands why. She’s small and sweet-looking in a heavy long sleeve shirt and print leggings.

“Grace?” she questions curiously, her eyes shifting quickly from Grace to him and back again.

“Hi Rosie,” Grace greets her with a bright smile that convincingly hides the tension she had moments ago. “This is my friend Carlos,” she points to him, not adding anything else. Better to keep her attention off him as he studies her. He takes in her clothes again, the shirt so big the sleeves come down to her fingertips, the thickness odd for the current warm weather. “He was visiting, and I mentioned I hadn’t had a chance to properly welcome you to the neighborhood, so we made you cobbler. Can we come in?”

Carlos smiles in what he hopes is friendly and reassuring as Rosie sneaks a look at him again. She looks over her shoulder towards the inside of the house before giving them a nod. “Sure, Derek is not home anyway,” she says, stepping aside to let them in.

He lets Grace cross the threshold first, but not before sharing a pointed look with his friend. The mention of her husband and her being comfortable with letting them in because he isn’t home already setting an alarm off for him.

“Sorry about the mess,” she says as she follows them into the living room, where there are still a few moving boxes on the floor. “I haven’t had a chance to put everything away,” she says with a self-conscious chuckle. “I can’t make up my mind where I want things to go. It drives Derek crazy.”

“It’s fine,” he tells her with an understanding smile, speaking for the first time. “When I first moved into my place, it took me a month to put up curtains because I couldn’t decide what color I wanted.”

Rosie gives him a small smile, her shoulders relaxing slightly at his comment. It only makes Carlos more tense and aware. He’s already starting to see what Grace was talking about. Even with the friendly smile on the girl’s face, there is an air of tension around her as she moves – the slightest shake of her hands as she takes the cobbler from Grace while she asks where Derek is.

“Oh, who knows,” she answers with a smile that looks more like a grimace. “He likes to wander about. This looks delicious Grace, thank you. I can’t bake to save my life,” she says with an awkward laugh. “I’ll serve some up, be right back.”

They watch Rosie walk into the kitchen silently before they turn to each other.

“Okay,” he starts once they’re alone. “You’re right something is up. She’s nervous, even scared. She only let us in because he’s not here, and I don’t like how she put herself down twice already, like someone who’s used to hearing negative things about themselves.”

“It’s pretty warm for a sweater today,” Grace comments quietly, her brow wrinkling in the middle as she frowns. “I don’t want to be right about this, Carlos,” she whispers, obviously pained by the idea.

Carlos has only known Rosie for a few minutes, and he knows exactly how she feels. He opens his mouth to reassure her that they will not leave without helping the young woman when the front door opens and the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

Derek – is almost as tall as him but slimmer, with limp, dirty blond hair and cold blue eyes. He has a mean look on his face that Carlos doesn’t like one bit.

“Who the fuck are you?” he sneers at them, making zero effort to hide the fact that he is not happy they’re in his home.

“Derek!” Rosie exclaims as she walks back into the living room with two small plates in her hands. Her eyes are wide as she looks at her husband. “Hi, baby,” she says, trying to smooth her expression out but failing as her eyes dart back and forth rapidly. “You remember Grace, right? She’s our neighbor from across the street.”

“Hello again, Derek,” Grace greets him, but there isn’t a hint of a smile on her face as she looks at him like a bug.

Derek notices if the way his eyes narrow is anything to go by. He turns to him with a raised eyebrow. “And you? Who are you?”

Carlos wonders for a second how he should play this, but as he catches Derek’s angry looks at his wife and how Rosie seems to be shrinking into herself the longer she stands by the archway of the room, he decides to rip the bandaid off and let the chips fall where they may. “I’m a friend of Grace’s, Officer Carlos Reyes with Austin Police.”

The reactions are, unfortunately, instant. Rosie drops one of the plates she’s holding in fright while Derek snaps his neck to look at her.

“What the fuck have you been saying?” he questions her, taking a menacing step forward.

Carlos moves too, getting in the space between them, holding up his hands defensively to Derek. “Back up, man,” he warns him, his voice hardening.

The ugly twist of Derek’s face grows nastier, meaner, and now that he’s closer, Carlos can smell the bourbon coming off him.

“Seriously, Derek, back the fuck up,” he grits out through clenched teeth when the guy takes another step forward, ignoring his warnings.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Derek all but shouts angrily. “This is my house, and I’ll do whatever the hell I want.”

“Like hurt Rosie?” Grace asks him with a stern look, and while Carlos understands the sentiment, he groans internally at the question and the way it takes Derek’s focus off him to Grace. Behind him, he can hear Rosie quietly crying.

“And what if I do,” Derek questions with another sneer. “What are you or anyone else going to do about it? She’s my wife. I can do what I want with her.”

Grace looks at Derek with the same look of disgust he feels. Quietly he pulls out his phone and sends a quick message to his partner, grateful he had the forethought of mentioning the situation to her before he came.

“Only cowards hurt their wives,” Grace answers with another nauseated look and shake of her head.

Carlos admires her bravery. It proves the wrong thing to say, though, as Derek sticks his hand in his pocket and Carlos catches a flash of silver.

“You have a smart mouth on you, don’t ya?” Derek snarls at Grace with a switchblade in his hand.

He moves, and Carlos does too without really thinking. Like with Rosie, he gets between Derek and Grace, only this time Derek is ready, and he swings his knife-carrying hand at him.

Grace and Rosie both shout, Grace quickly moving out of the way and towards the young woman when she tries to step forward to intervene.

“Derek, stop!”

“Put the knife down, Derek! He’s a cop!”

Derek doesn’t listen to either of them, and neither can Carlos, as he jumps back to avoid the knife being lunged at him. The fight happens for Carlos in a blur as he tries to avoid the blade, disarm Derek and keep him from turning his rage toward Rosie or Grace.

“Please stop!” Rosie screams again, loud, and so scared it breaks Carlos’ focus for a moment. Unfortunately, it’s a moment too long, and he lets out a shout of his own as the knife pierces his skin on the left side of his flank.

Grace shouts, alarmed. “Carlos!”

He holds her back with one hand as she rushes towards him. She shoves it away, placing hers on his wound to put pressure as his shirt quickly stains with his blood.

Derek stares wide at him, the realization of what he’s done coming over his face. He doesn’t have a chance to react further than that as Austin Police barges through the door, Carlos’ partner at the front.

Carlos leans on Grace heavily, and Rosie comes forward to help him stay up as the three of them watch Derek be dragged to his knees and handcuffed.

“You can’t stay out of trouble even on your day off, Reyes,” his partner shakes his head at him before signaling for EMS to come in.

He tries to roll his eyes at her, but he’s starting to feel lightheaded, and he’s just grateful when the gurney rumbles in.

Rosie and Grace hand him off, but not before Rosie apologizes, he tries to reassure her, but he finds it hard to speak as he gets sleepier. He thinks he hears Grace tell her it’s not her fault, and he nods tiredly in agreement.

Looking over at Grace, he smiles, hoping it will ease the worried look on her face. “TK is gonna be pissed about the shirt,” he jokes right before he passes out.

֎֎֎

Carlos wakes up to bright lights in his eyes. He groans, annoyed at them as he tries to cover his face and finds that he’s tugging on his IV.

The hospital, shit.

“Everything will be fine, I promise,” says a soft mocking voice to his right, and when he turns his head, he’s not at all surprised to find TK sitting there with a raised eyebrow, trying to hide his worry behind a sarcastic look. “Getting stabbed, needing surgery, and having your spleen removed doesn’t scream ‘everything is fine’ Carlos Reyes.”

“Hey, baby,” he rasps out, his throat dry like the Sahara. “Sorry about that.”

TK gets up with a deep sigh. He crosses the distance to him and leans down, pressing a kiss on his forehead before he lays his against Carlos’. “You were being a big damn hero, so I forgive you,” he whispers as he touches his nose to Carlos’. “But if you can please avoid getting hurt while you save the world next time, I would appreciate it.”

Carlos makes a humming noise in the back of his throat, closing his eyes for a moment as he basks in TK’s closeness.

“I would have to agree.”

Carlos opens his eyes to find two other people in the room he didn’t notice before. Grace and Judd sit on the other two chairs of the room, both standing when he looks over at them. They walk together to the foot of his bed, and Grace wraps her hand around his ankle, giving it a squeeze.

“If we are going to be friends and go on adventures together, you can’t end up stabbed, honey,” she says with a sweet smile on her face.

“Carlos and Grace save the world,” TK says with a proud but dry smile. He looks over at Judd, sharing a look with the older man. “God help us, brother,” he says, getting a severe nod in return from the cowboy, while Grace scoffs at both of them.

“We didn’t save the world,” Carlos protests at the repeat of those words.

“Tell that to that sweet, scared little thing you two helped get away from her abusive husband,” Judd answers, still somber.

“Yeah,” TK agrees with a nod. He combs a soothing hand through Carlos’ curls. “Pretty sure Rosie would tell you differently.”

“Is she okay?” He asks, seeking Grace’s eyes, letting a relieved exhale when she nods.

“Your partner had a social worker ready, and they are setting her up as we speak,” Grace assures him. “She said thank you.”

Carlos lets out another deep breath. “That’s good.”

Grace looks at him for a moment with a small frown on her face. “You had them ready, even when we weren’t sure if I was right – “

“I trust your judgment, Grace,” he interrupts, answering her silent question. “You knew – so I prepared.”

Grace gives his ankle another squeeze, and Carlos nods at her in understanding.

“We should go,” she says with a smile. “I’m sure TK wants to scold you some more and then smother you with kisses.”

TK lets out a sound of protest that has Judd snorting. It makes Carlos chuckle despite the pain it causes.

“Pie on Wednesday?” he asks Grace, grinning at the twinkle that enters her eyes as she smiles back widely at him.

“I’ll see you in my kitchen – 4ish?” she points at him. She starts to turn with Judd after he agrees, but the older man stands still, looking at him.

“Thanks for keeping my baby safe, brother,” Judd says to him quietly.

Carlos swallows hard, the weight of the words impacting him. He looks up at TK to find him staring at him with a soft loving look on his face. “You keep mine safe all the time, just returning the favor.”

The Ryders both smile at him as they leave; Grace makes a signal that she’ll call him, blowing him and TK a kiss before closing the door, leaving them alone.

“So you and Grace are friends now.”

“Yeah,” Carlos answers, smiling at the comment and how true it is. They’re friends now.

“That’s cool,” TK says, smiling as he sits at the edge of his bed. “But for mine and Judd’s sake, can you two keep the dangerous situations to a minimum?”

Carlos snorts at the comment, grinning when TK rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbles sarcastically. “Look who’s talking, right?”

“You said it, not me.”

TK shakes his head, but his expression goes soft as he looks at him. “I was so scared when Grace called me,” he tells him with a trembling smile. “But then she told us how you kept her and Rosie safe, and I was so proud of you, baby.”

Carlos reaches for him, tugging on his hand until TK gets the hint, and lies next to him on the small bed, resting his head on Carlos’ shoulder, his arm going around him, careful of his wound.

“I love you,” TK whispers into the slope of his neck.

Carlos closes his eyes as tiredness starts to take over again. He’s in some mild pain, and he’s sure there is gonna be a mountain of paperwork later waiting for him, but Grace and Rosie are safe, and he’s in TK’s arms, so everything is okay in his book.

He turns his face towards TK’s, finding it inches away as TK looks up at him.

Pressing a kiss against his lips, swallowing the soft, peaceful sigh TK lets out, he whispers back. “I love you too.”

#911 lone star #carlos reyes #grace ryder #tarlos #tarlos fic #grace & carlos fic #911 lone star fic #my writing

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bcbdrums · 3 years ago

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Melon Misfortunes

A/N: A little foray back into the world of watermelon... Thanks to @split-n-splice for some clever lines and the great title.

Happy birthday, @jennaanneg!

Read on: FFn AO3

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Drakken rubbed the back of his neck and straightened up in front of the watermelon crate at the grocer's. He had been bending over the sea of green, bulbous fruit for at least ten minutes, trying to find the very best ones. After the long day, he was finally feeling the exhaustion and pain in his spine.

Drakken glanced to his right to be sure the empty cart was still there, and then turned back to the melons.

"Hello, Drew."

"Gah!"

Drakken recoiled, banging his forearm on the metal cart at the sound of his former college friend's voice and nearly losing his balance as his recovery from that had him bumping into the crate.

"Just as light on your feet as you were in college, I see."

Drakken straightened up and adjusted his shirt, taking in the single quirked eyebrow of James Possible with loathing.

"Just as rude as you always were, I see," Drakken retorted as he gave the man a once-over with wariness and frustration.

Possible was exactly the same as he remembered him from college, except for some wrinkles, gray hair, and extra padding around the waist, all such as comes naturally with age. Drakken bit the inside of his cheek knowing he had aged at least the same, if not worse for his other problems and stresses on his life.

The man didn't seem one bit perturbed by his insult, and to Drakken's dismay he leaned up against the side of the watermelon crate and continued what he apparently thought was a welcome conversation.

"We haven't heard anything about you really since the invasion."

Drakken rolled his eyes and looked back to the watermelons, hoping the man would take the hint and leave. Unfortunately, Possible continued.

"Although my Kimmy-cub did mention running into you at this very store once, after stopping some crooks with Ronald."

Drakken's frown deepened as he considered that in all the stores in all the world, Kim Possible just had to have been busting some small-time criminal while he was buying watermelon. But his brow suddenly rose in the realization that there was no real reason for James Possible to be there.

"You know, she mentioned something about watermelon that time too... You branching out from flowers into mutant fruit, now?" Possible asked with an amused chuckle.

"None of your business," Drakken replied through a grunt, bending low over the melons to get Possible out of his line of sight.

A blessed silence fell for several seconds that made him hope the man had taken the hint and left, but then...

"Finally left the blue lab coat behind, I see."

"Don't you have someplace else to be?" Drakken snapped, feeling another twinge in his neck as he turned too quickly to give his former friend a venomous look.

Possible chuckled. "My wife and I are on a couple's cruise. St. Lucia is one of the stops," the man explained.

Drakken grumbled under his breath about the unfortunate reality of living so near various tourist locations. Perhaps it was time to consider online shopping for groceries...

"Getting a few grays there, Drew."

"Oh like you're one to talk," Drakken said, grabbing the closest watermelon and hefting it into the cart.

As Drakken's irritation rose he wondered if Shego would settle for watermelon-flavored gum. He could grab some off the rack near the check stand and run, and no one would be the wiser.

"All this time and you're getting that one?" Possible said with a concerned frown.

Drakken hesitated, narrowing his eyes on the man.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, those oblong ones aren't very sweet. They were over-watered."

Drakken blinked again, a myriad of new annoying thoughts running through his mind. He moved to set the melon in the cart, but Possible was giving him an all-too familiar, knowing and painfully smug grin.

Drakken frowned.

"Fine, which melons should I buy?" he asked through a scowl, shifting his weight as somehow holding the large melon was putting undue pressure on his spine.

"Well, what are you using them for?" Possible asked, raising that single annoying eyebrow higher as his smirk grew.

"For eating, you— Ngh!"

Drakken cut himself off as he nearly dropped the slippery melon. He grit his teeth as he carefully placed it back in the bin, not making eye contact with Possible who was surely grinning in his perceived pompous superiority that had only added to Drakken's disdain for the man.

"Fine! Which one should I get, then?" Drakken asked as he straightened again, crossing his arms.

His brow rose in curiosity as James Possible's face adopted a thoughtful, critical expression as he bent over the crate.

"For starters, you need something uniform in size and shape. That's how you know it developed properly," the man said. Drakken watched as Possible started sorting the watermelons before he continued. "And if it's dark and dull, you know it's ripe. Avoid the pale and shiny ones."

"Don't you have something better to do on your...so-called couple's cruise?"

"My wife is clothes shopping," Possible stated simply and with a slight cringe as he lifted a melon and examined it.

Despite himself, after nearly a minute of watching Possible sorting watermelons Drakken joined in, moving only the large oblong ones as he didn't know much else. He abhorred the idea of getting advice from the man who was partially responsible for his becoming a villain... But, if it meant getting the best melons for Shego...

"And there, those ones will be very flavorful," Possible said, pointing to a melon with a massive orange discoloration on it.

"It looks like it spent too much time in the sun," Drakken said skeptically.

"It spent a long time ripening on the vine," Possible explained, as if the topic were an everyday one. "But avoid the white spots. And here," he gestured to the ugliest of melons, covered in brown scars that spread over the rind in a webbed appearance that interrupted the green stripes, "is another sign that they're sweet and flavorful."

Drakken leaned away again and frowned. "Do you take me for a fool?"

Possible straightened as well, looking ever-confident. "The brown spots indicate numerous pollination attempts by bees, thus the melon is sweeter."

Drakken stared the man down for several seconds and detected no lie in his words. His brow furrowed.

"How do you know this?"

"I've done some research into various botanical fields."

"You're a rocket scientist. Unless something has changed in the past—" Drakken stopped as realization struck. His brow rose, and suddenly Possible looked uncomfortable. "Are you...trying to move in on my research?"

Possible cleared his throat. "Anyway, those are the tastiest melons...if eating is in fact what you need them for."

"You're trying to move in on my territory! You're...you're jealous!"

Possible turned on his heel and departed rapidly with a stiff wave.

"Pleasure catching up!"

Drakken stared in astonishment until the man vanished through the automatic doors of the store, and then a grin slowly broadened his face. James Possible was jealous...of him!

"About time," Drakken muttered as he turned back to the melons. His grin quickly faded into uncertainty.

What if Possible had been lying about the melons?

He tried to recall in the past which ones had tasted the best. Not that he ate much of them, but he had sampled more than his fair share.

It was true, the enormous long ones never held much flavor and seemed watery. Perhaps it was true that the ugliest were the best? He had never bought those before, so...he supposed it was worth a try.

Drakken shrugged to himself and started loading up the shopping cart. Possible had no idea after all what the melons were really for. There would be no reason for the man to lie...except malice. And yet...something told Drakken, that that hadn't been the man's motive...much to Drakken's confusion.

Shego was still in bed when Drakken returned to the lair with the watermelons, and he had checked on her while the henchmen unloaded them from the hover-car. She wasn't feeling as ill that day, but still didn't want to get up. Thankfully, the promise of watermelon seemed to calm her ire, so it was only with limited anxiety that Drakken portioned up one of the hideous looking melons and prepared her a simple bowl to start with.

The flesh of the watermelon itself did indeed look redder and was definitely juicier than what he was used to buying, but even if he thought it was good—which he wouldn't, having lost his taste for the fruit—it was Shego's opinion that mattered. And so he held his breath as he walked back to the bedroom to present the bowl to his wife.

Shego sat up slowly in bed and Drakken's brow twisted in sympathy at her grimace of pain. Once the bowl was in her hands he tossed off his polo shirt and pushed his feet out of his shoes, grateful to be home where he could shake off the displeasure of interacting with James Possible and focus on the important things. Namely, his wife and their unborn child.

Shego had one hand on the small swell of her belly as she adjusted pillows with the other so she could lean against the headboard while she ate. Drakken quickly moved to her side to assist her which earned him a look of annoyance, as if he should have already been helping her, but also a look of gratitude.

Drakken sat on the bed and un-tucked his tank top as Shego tossed the blankets down to her knees and then brought the dish of watermelon up to chest height with one palm supporting the bowl from beneath as she stabbed one of the succulent cubes with her fork. He held his breath again as she brought the bite to her lips, and after only a moment of chewing her eyes widened.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, the bite going into her cheek as she spoke. She put another cube in her mouth as she continued chewing the first.

"Sanchez's place, like always," he said with a slightly nervous shrug.

"Better than any he's ever had before," she commented through her full mouth.

Drakken watched as her eyes brightened through the enjoyment of her biggest pregnancy craving. He felt the irritation of the shopping trip melt away at the pleased look on her face, and he hoped the treat would also go some way toward easing the pain of the never-ending morning sickness.

He got his answer very suddenly when Shego set the bowl down, grinning at him as she pushed the bed-covers even farther away. He didn't even get to speak before he was knocked back slightly by her arms wrapping around him and her lips pressing against his. He responded with a startled hum as he caught himself from falling with one palm on the mattress, his other hand instantly finding her waist.

Shego pulled away just enough so she could smile into his eyes, and Drakken blinked at her dumbly in confusion as she shifted nearer, her pregnant belly pressing against his.

"Thanks, Dr. D.," she said simply, and kissed him again, the distinct flavor of watermelon on her lips.

For once, it was very, very sweet.

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flushthethrone · 3 years ago

Audio

(Southern Vangard)

BANG! @southernvangard #radio Ep310! Disc Jockey Jon Doe and Master of Ceremonies Eddie Meeks are back with another fun-filled adventure, fellow Vangardians! We have WORLD EXCLUSIVES from CASUAL & DEAD PERRY (big up JERRY GRAHAM for the connect) as well as EAST HAMPTON POLO BOYS & LORD JUCO (big up GRIFF & INSUBORDINATE RECORDS). LONG LIVE SCORCESE. There’s also a bunch of brand new hip-hop records that you probably haven’t heard but should, and you can bet your bottom dollar there’s lots of drummin’, scritchin’, scratchin’ and rappin! YOU’RE WAAAAALCOME! #SmithsonianGrade #WeAreTheGard // southernvangard.com // @southernvangard on #applepodcasts #stitcherradio #soundcloud #mixcloud #youtube // #hiphop #rap #undergroundhiphop #boombap #DJ #mixshow #interview #podcast #ATL #WORLDWIDE #RIPCOMBATJACK

Recorded live January 9, 2022 @ Dirty Blanket Studios, Marietta, GA

southernvangard.com

@southernvangard on #applepodcasts #soundcloud #youtube #spotifypodcast #googlepodcasts #stitcherradio #mixcloud #SmithsonianGrade #WeAreTheGard

twitter/IG: @southernvangard @jondoeatl @cappuccinomeeks

Talk Break Inst - "Bed-Stuy Heat" - Stan Da Man

"Wave Gods" - Nas ft. ASAP Rocky & DJ Premier (prod. Hit Boy)

"Return Of The Asiatic" - BambuDeAsiatic ft.. Supastition (prod. Supastition)

"Still Growing" - 1773 x E Brown

"Glory Us" - Defari

"Checks and Balances" - Mazzi & Jahlil Beats ft. Nino Bless & Fashawn

"Bounce" - Team Demo ft. Tha Liks & Kurious

"Big Top Clown Circus" - Jake Palumbo ft. Craig G & DJ Dainja

"Hot Sauce" - Krohme ft. Copywrite & Bobby J from Rockaway

Talk Break Inst - "Coney Island Heat" - Stan Da Man

"GulfClap" - The Custodian of Records & Light The Emcee

"Makin' Moves" - The Good People

"Oceans 11" - Chubs X Fastlife (prod. Eitan Noyze)

"Teflon Tactics" - Mickey Diamond

"Ain't No Love" - Cortez ft. Inspectah Deck & Doza The Drum Dealer

"FUPA" - Illa Ghee

"Streets Is Watching, So Iz God" - Estee Nack

Talk Break Inst - "Bushwick Heat" - Stan Da Man

"Never Say It To Us (Remix)" - Casual & Dead Perry ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"Dope Dealer Kingpin Wheels" - East Hampton Polo Boys ft. Lord Juco ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"Table For 3" - Che Noir ft. 38 Spesh & Ransom

"Callin' Me Wilt" - Terror Van Poo (prod. Vinny Idol)

"Third Eye" - Daniel Son & Futurewave ft. Flee Lord

"Purple Ants" Hubbs - (prod. M Germ)

"Let's Talk About It" - Nowaah The Flood x D-Styles ft. K.Burns

"Real1" - Al Divino

Talk Break Inst - "Fort Greene Heat" - Stan Da Man

SOUNDCLOUD

https://soundcloud.com/southernvangard/episode-310-southern-vangard-radio/

APPLE PODCASTS

https://itun.es/us/QyyX9.c/

SPOTIFY PODCASTS

http://bit.ly/svrspotifypodcasts

YOUTUBE

https://youtu.be/kAefo6_sTgM

GOOGLE PODCASTS

http://bit.ly/svrgooglepodcasts

MIXCLOUD

https://www.mixcloud.com/southernvangard/episode-310-southern-vangard-radio/

#SouthernVangard #DJJonDoe #EddieMeeks #StanDaMan #Nas #ASAPRocky #DJPremier #HitBoy #BambuDeAsiatic #Supastition #1773 #EBrown #Defari #Mazzi #JahlilBeats #NinoBless #Fashawn #TeamDemo #ThaLiks #Kurious #JakePalumbo #CraigG #DJDainja #Krohme #Copywrite #BobbyJfromRockaway #TheCustodianOfRecords #LightTheEmcee #TheGoodPeople #Chubs #Fastlife #EitanNoyze #MickeyDiamond #Cortez #InspectahDeck #DozaTheDrumDealer #IllaGhee #EsteeNack #Casual #DeadPerry #EastHamptonPoloBoys #LordJuco #CheNoir #38Spesh #Ransom #TerrorVanPoo #VinnyIdol #DanielSon #Futurewave #FleeLord #Hubbs #MGerm #NowaahTheFlood #DStyles #KBurns #AlDivino

#SoundCloud #music #Southern Vangard #HipHop #Rap #UndergroundHipHop #Podcast

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tentwentyninecompositions · 5 years ago

Text

East Chicago Love Letter

12 DAYS PRIOR

“What time did you say she was flying in?” Myles questions as he continued to clip the ends of the floral arrangement. Dutch Hydrangeas and the Peony flower are Kary’s favorite. So as a small token of his love Enzo put together multiple bouquets for his wife.

“Uh..should be around 8:30 maybe even nine o’clock. You think these look alright?” Enzo put the first bundle of flowers into an expensive, stained glass vase. He stepped back to get a better look at what he had put together.

Myles finished off his bundle doing the same as his friend. Together in silence they admired the beautiful flowers that smell like a hint of lavender. Another one of Kary’s favorite things in life.

“This is the nicest thing I’ve ever seen you do for anybody.” Myles spoke up. He went around to the other side of the kitchen to fish around the refrigerator for a drink.

“Yeah man I know. I just want this night to go well. I’ve been planning this since her last trip. I know Kary inside and out so I know she’ll love this.” Enzo prides himself in knowing the things his wife loves, hates, and anything in between. “How could she not? I picked every one of these flowers myself, cut ‘em, washed ‘em...the whole nine man.” He chuckled.

“I don’t doubt you on that at all. Kary is a very lucky woman to have you in her life. I’m always praying for y’all and you know my mama is too.” Myles began to clean up the mess he made in Enzo’s kitchen whilst sipping on his most beloved drink combination. Bourbon and apple juice.

“Thank you brother, I really appreciate that.” The men returned the kitchen to its original clean state and went about their individual business.

——— ———-

Later That Evening...

Glancing at the time of his watch Enzo blew out a sharp breath as he put the finishing touches on his anniversary dinner. After Myles left, Enzo spent the remainder of his alone time prepping his home for his wife’s arrival. Kary has been traveling non-stop for work for the past month, striking deals, meeting with designers, hosting events etc. Mrs. Warren has been a very busy woman. Being that today is the couples five year wedding anniversary Enzo thought he would prepare his wife’s favorite dish. That being chicken marsala in a Sherry cream sauce and brown butter risotto. He bought her three floral arrangements with each bundle having the stems wrapped in one hundred dollar bills.

In addition to the flowers, Enzo splurged on several designer fragrance bottles, the finest brands of mascara and lipstick tubes in all of Kary’s favorite shades. The receipts from his shopping spree didn’t put the slightest dent in his bank account. When it boils down to love and showing his appreciation for his woman, Enzo will go above and beyond.

ENZO

Fastening the second button from the top on my shirt I picked up my brush to run over my hair for the fifth time. I don’t know why I feel so nervous to see my wife. Maybe it’s because she’s been gone for over four weeks and my anticipation has reached its peak. Coming home after a long day's work to go to bed alone put me in a funk for the first two weeks of Kary’s absence.

Around the week three day two mark, I shook the chip off my shoulder and went back to my old routine. Five a.m., I go on my three mile run. Afterward, I go through my usual morning hit list before going to work. Step out for lunch around two-thirty and head over to the ring for seventy minutes exactly. By four o’clock I’m back to work and home by seven on the dot. And finally after weeks of forcing myself to get out of my own head I get the love of my life back.

I’m nervous to see her but it’s a good kind of nervous. The sound of the door opening scared the hell out of me. That’s when I heard the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Enzo, baby, I’m home.”

My heart began pounding in my chest as I rushed to finish getting dressed. Cleaning up behind myself I sifted through my mental checklist to ensure part two of my plan runs efficiently.

Taking a deep breath I cut the lights and left the room. I followed the sound of Kary’s ‘oohs’ and ‘oh my gods’ coming to find her in the kitchen. Her curiosity almost got her into trouble but she managed to keep her hands put.

“I didn’t expect you until later.” I said. Kary glanced over her shoulder, her eyes lighting up at the sight of me. I told Myles this suit was a great idea.

“I thought I would surprise you by catching an earlier flight. Clearly you had the same idea with surprises. You set all this up for me?” She shrugged off her coat and closed the distance between us.

I took a moment to check out all of my efforts, happy with the turn out. With flowers, candles, her gifts displayed nicely, and the scent of the meal I prepared I definitely earned some points for this. Eager to minimize our distance I met her halfway drinking in every inch of her that I could with these barriers in between us. By barriers I do mean our clothes. She must’ve gotten a temporary room to clean up and change in because this scent lingering on her body and clothes is new to me.

“You took..a shower...without me?” I spoke and exhaled in between kisses. Kary gets a good laugh out of me pretending to be upset with some things she does without me around. I’m never truly bothered but it’s fulfilling to make her laugh at silly shit.

“This was an exception E, I needed some serious TLC after that long flight.” Backing up to cup my face in the palm of her hands Kary searched both of my eyes in silence. The expanding grin on her face inspired my own.

“Why are you smiling so much?” I asked of her.

“I could ask you the same thing but I already know it’s because you’re happy to see me. How much did you miss me?” Kary’s hands busied themselves with my clothes as she examined me from head to toe.

“Oh I can show you better than I can tell you. Ready to eat? I cooked for you and it’s ready. As am I.” I joked. She and I laughed in richness and ventured to our kitchen together.

She went back to admiring the layout of our house with me not able to keep my hands off of her. It took me all of five minutes to realize that her skirt is brand new. It’s one of those skirts that come to the knees with buttons going down the center seam. The only difference from this particular style of skirts and others is that this one is fitting. Kary will throw on a dress any time of year but a skirt, she rarely will purchase.

“I like this new outfit. When did you get this?” Getting a feel for the fabric I expressed the pleasure it brought to me beneath my fingers.

“I was feeling adventurous and this little number happened to be marked down seventy percent off. I had a feeling you’d like it.” Kary stepped ahead and hustled around the kitchen not waiting for me. My all time favorite thing to watch is Kary fending for herself when she’s hungry. Whenever her craving for food is magnified she gets this look in her eye. In the beginning of our relationship I would place a story behind every little thing that attracted me to her.

Now I just identify the attraction as attraction. I find it appealing and arousing when she showcases her need for the basics in life. Her will to eat is at the top of that list.

“Mm..mama’s hungry.” Chucking at her maneuvering swiftly to fix two plates I caught her eye.

She flipped me the bird and motioned for me to come closer and help her out. “Mama is hungry for many many things. Was Myles here? I’m getting the sense that he was. That lingering trace of Polo is hitting me in the face.”

“He was for a little while, yeah. He told me to pass on a hello to you. That fool tried so hard to stick around for dinner but you already know how that conversation went.” I took over the ship again ushering her to sit at the table. “You go off to work for a month straight and here you are still putting in time? I don’t believe you. When did you ever sleep?”

“Fixing a plate is nothing compared to what I was doing over the past four weeks. You spent all this time preparing all of this for me. I think the least I can do is help out a little.” Here goes the bargaining. Typical, overachieving, non-stop working Kary Santos-Warren.

“Oh come on. Save me the good wife speech baby, I know what you are capable of. What are you drinking tonight? Red..white..water..” Carrying her plate over to her I matched her smirk.

“I think I’ll switch it up tonight. Do we still have that Brandy?” She questioned me about it.

Tipping my head to her I walked back into the kitchen to grab a plate for myself and the Brandy. She and I were given this forty five year aged liquor for Christmas. I put it away towards the back of our liquor cabinet saving it for a special occasion. Tonight is the best reason to open this bad boy up.

Kary volunteered to bless our evening and our meal. Her speech touched me in a few ways due to some things that she spoke on.

“You’re getting emotional? Wow, this isn’t the Enzo I know and love. What’s changed, lover boy?” Her bare foot tickled my pant leg before she continued on with raising the bottom half with her toes.

The coolness of her toe pads gave me chills but I embraced them all. I’ve missed this woman terribly so nothing she can do will get on my nerves.

“I’m not being emotional. Your blessing touched me deeper than usual that’s all. Talk to me about your trip. How was it? I wanna know everything.” Kary spilled every detail of what her work trip was like, not leaving any information out.

Setting my empty glass aside I folded my hands behind my plate, drinking in her existence. She helped herself to seconds of dinner signifying that I outdid myself. I do have a fourth course for her, which is her absolute favorite.

Kary licked her knife clean and gently set it down, giving me this intense eye. “I must say babe, that was amazing. I can tell you took your time with the sherry. Myles must have been busting your balls about not screwing up my sauce huh?”

“God, you are so fucking smart. Yes, Myles was giving me the hardest time about the dinner period to be honest with you. He was practically with me all day until I kicked him out.” Rising from my seat I picked up her plate and mine, taking them both to the kitchen.

“Is there more? Because quiero mas, por favor..” Kary sang out from the dining room table.

“Give me five minutes and I’ll be right back.” I guaranteed her. Removing my infamous banana bread from the oven I set up a small plate neatly for us to share. Removing the Brandy from the shelf I poured her and I another serving, rejoining her once again. “For you my queen. Open.” Seeing Kary’s mouth open visibly made my erection go from a three to an honest ten.

Her eyelids closed along with her mouth around the fork. “God, I have missed the satisfying taste of your baking. You are the only person I know that can bring me this type of joy from food alone. Happy anniversary my love. You’ve given me the best escape from reality, the best life, so much joy, peace and happiness. In all of the years we have been together, I have never once felt unhappy or unimportant. You are my everything babe.”

Although Kary and I have had difficulty in the past trying to get pregnant, maybe tonight is the night. Mashallah.

#tentwentyninecompositions #short series

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hethrewmyheartinthecut · 7 years ago

Note

Tatiana/esme for coffeeshop au? Only if you feel like it of course!

Oh, I feel like it. I most certainly feel like it.

with your hair down, a Tatiana x Esme fic

read more like this on ao3 • or my tumblr masterlist

One morning Esme came to work, unlocked the front door, and found a dark-haired woman just sitting there on the edge of the front counter, heel-clad feet swinging back and forth, doing something on her phone. Evidently bored, but holding herself with the feline grace of an aristocrat, clad head to toe in clothing a sleek white pantsuit whose professional effect was absolutely ruined by the black lace crop top she wore underneath.

“I want a croissant,” she said. What accent was that? Russian?

Esme rubbed her eyes and tried to make sense of it all. “We’re not open until six-thirty,” she said. “How did you get in?”

“Two almond croissants. And a quad macchiato.”

“I don’t want to call the police.”

“Then don’t.”

Esme let her massive purse fall to the floor with a thud. “It’s too early in the morning for this. Tell me who you are, or I’ll kick you out myself.”

Without changing the position of her head, the woman looked up. Esme froze. A lesser woman would’ve stepped back. Suit or no, there was nothing civilized about those green eyes. They were purely feral, and nakedly interested.

But then the woman blinked, and it was if a blade had been sheathed. “That’s the level of dedication I like to see in my workers,” she said, giving Esme a sardonic smile and then returning her attention to her phone.

“Your?”

“Check your email.”

Esme pulled out her own phone, and sure enough, buried under an assortment of unasked-for grocery store coupons, sales advertisements for kids’ clothing, requests to schedule parent-teacher conferences, and the occasional chain email from Linda, there was an email from corporate that congratulated Tatiana Petrovna on becoming the youngest person to ever own a Moody’s Coffee. In the email there was a photo, unquestionably of the same woman that now sat on the countertop, with her curly hair swept up into a bun and her flawless face set in a smug smile.

Esme picked up her purse and made her way behind the counter. “What happened to Bob?”

“Who’s that?”

“The previous owner.”

“Dead.”

Esme felt like she should say something about that, like: oh, that’s too bad, but it wasn’t really. He’d been an old, unpleasant, and incompetent. Besides, Tatiana clearly didn’t give a damn. In fact, from this angle, Esme could see her phone, and it was perfectly obvious that Tatiana was just continually swiping left on a wide array of people, mostly uni students, a few professors.

“Two percent, skim, almond, soy?” Esme said.

“Do I look like a vegan to you?”

“That only eliminates two.”

“I don’t care.”

For one sweet moment, Esme fantasized about making the macchiato with half and half instead of milk, or better, just putting a glob of sour cream in a cup with espresso, but then, employment. Employment was good. Or if not good, then at least necessary.

“Skim it is,” she said.

Twenty minutes later, the croissants came out of the oven piping hot. Esme slid them into a brown paper bag, and handed the bag, along with the macchiato, to Tatiana.

Tatiana hopped off the countertop and landing so smoothly that her suit remained immaculate, unstained by even the smallest fleck of macchiato. “Tell Hansen she gets a ten percent raise if she doesn’t fuck up.”

“Tell her yourself,” Esme said, but by then Tatiana was already half-out the door.

In the weeks that followed, Tatiana showed up randomly, never at the same time, never eating the same thing, and wearing a succession of increasingly exquisite clothes, verging on couture. On the very same day that Esme’s oldest stepchild, Katie, got her first period, stained the backseat of their car, and cried about it all the way home, Tatiana showed up at Moody’s Coffee wearing Louboutins. That had Esme feeling some type of way. Nothing positive.

There were other changes, too: the old uniforms of ugly green polo shirts and black pants were replaced by graphic tees and jeans; the menu shortened but the list of weekly specials grew; the corporate décor disappeared overnight, replaced by cozy, eclectic, bean-bag-and-lamp style pieces. It all seemed utterly suited to the aesthetic of a hip college town, but utterly antithetical to Tatiana’s aesthetic in all its red-lipped, stiletto glory. But she clearly didn’t disapprove; the Saturday after the renovations, she appeared before even the bakers, somehow having managed to discover a way to lie languorously, elegantly even, across two beanbags with a bottle of wine and a massive Russian tome.

About three weeks in, Esme showed up to work an afternoon shift and Tatiana was behind the counter, leaning against the back wall, phone in hand, but watching with keen interest everything that poor Carter and Fiona were doing.

“Move,” Esme said.

“Why?”

“The three o’clock classes get out in ten minutes, and I won’t have the time to be reaching around you to get at the rack of syrups.”

“Mm.” Tatiana moved back into the corner and stood so still that in the midst of the rush, Esme forgot she was there at all, until a girl in a Canada Goose coat leaned over and tapped Tatiana on the shoulder. Now this, Esme wanted to see. If only because she loathed every fool who bought an $800 jacket when a $150 would do.

“Hey. Are you the manager?” the girl said.

“The owner,” said Tatiana, slightly through her teeth.

“Look, I’m not trying to cause trouble, but she misspelled my name.” The girl pointed at Fiona, who, bless her, looked petrified. “Sorry,” she said.

“What’s your name?” Tatiana had a way of making every word sound desultory, but it didn’t stop the girl a bit. She barrelled on.

“It’s not Claire, C. L. A. I. R. E., it’s Clare, C. L. A. R. E.”

“Ah.” Tatiana stared at her, magnificently, transparently bored.

“So?” Clare said.

“Would you like me to do something?”

“Tell your employees to spell my name properly, maybe?”

“I really am sorry,” said Fiona.

“Alternatively?” said Tatiana.

Clare’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Alternatively…” With the flick of one finger, Tatiana knocked over the cup, and it tipped over sideways, spilling a hot brown stream onto the girl’s winter boots.

The girl took a step back, and Esme could see the precise moment when denial turned to rage. “You know what? I’m going two blocks down, and I’m getting it from Starbucks! I’m getting everything from Starbucks from now on!”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” said Tatiana. Her red lips lifted in that feline smile. “Starbucks will be closing soon. I hear the building’s been cursed.”

The girl looked over at Esme, as if seeking reassurance that this was all a practical joke. Esme smiled a placid and flat-eyed smile right back at her. Clare left.

The next day, there was a plaque up on the wall with Tatiana on it. The bio underneath might have been printed in a cutesy font, the swirl of midnight blue might have been well in keeping with the whimsy of the coffeeshop, but there was no amount of design that could render Tatiana’s sheer magnetic arrogance and beauty into something friendly. Even in a photo.

That plaque got plenty of use. Tatiana showed up during every rush, morning, noon, and night, for nine days straight, expertly weaving between the workers and taking orders just like the rest with a smile about a hundred watts too bright for comfort. Clack clack clack went her heels on the tile. Her misspellings became too aggressive to be mistaken for a mistake. At every complaint, she pointed at the plaque.

Pay improved. A few people vanished, without any clear confirmation about whether they’d been fired or just quit. Esme didn’t complain. She found she was enjoying the reign of this new tyrant, even though the tyrant’s benevolence was still an open question.

Even after that nine-day sprint, Tatiana occasionally showed up during the rush. Sometimes she jumped in, doing everything from cappuccinos to taking out the trash; other times, she demanded (and received) free pastries.

“She’s so rude,” said Carter, late one Friday night, at closing.

“That’s exactly why people love her,” said Fiona.

“I’m just scared of her,” he said.

“She’s like a neighborhood cat that only bites,” Fiona added. “It’s fun for them. It’s a bit of personality.”

“But how long before we start losing customers?” said Esme.

“I don’t know, but month over month sales have gone up by six percent,” said Hanson. “I think it’s working.”

“We’ll see,” said Esme.

Except the next week, the Starbucks two blocks down closed and Moody’s got even busier.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” Fiona gripped Esme’s arm hard. “Look. That’s the guy.”

Esme peered over the counter at the blonde man picking up a copy of the Wall Street Journal in the corner store opposite Moody’s Coffee. “You’re kidding.”

“Who?” Carter craned his neck.

“That’s the only man I’ve ever seen Tatiana swipe right on. There have been four women, and one man. That’s the man.”

All three stared breathlessly until he disappeared down the street.

“He was tall,” said Fiona admiringly.

“Not that tall,” said Carter.

“You’re five foot seven, what would you know about tall?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“He seems rich. Like sugar daddy rich. Do you think Tatiana has a sugar daddy?”

“Why would she need one?” Esme said.

“Why indeed,” said Tatiana, appearing as if by magic from the back room.

Fiona and Carter scattered.

“You might enjoy it,” Esme said.

“Mm, the long game’s much too much work, and men are not dependable. Take it from me, Esme, all meat tastes better when you’ve hunted it yourself.”

“Spoken like a true heiress, with no spouse, no parents, and no children.”

“Doesn’t make me wrong.”

Tatiana was right, of course, but Esme couldn’t bring herself to say it, so she just gave Tatiana one last look and turned back to the whipped cream.

Nobody ever saw the blonde man again.

This sexual harassment training video had to have been made in the eighties. At first, Esme thought she could tolerate the old graphics and the quasi-elevator music, but then the man in the example said honkers and she burst out laughing.

“Let’s just get through this,” said Hanson grimly.

“No, she’s right,” said Tatiana from the back, at her most sardonic. Hanson flipped on the lights.

“How long have you been here?” said Fiona.

“Too long.” Tatiana walked to the front of the room. “I’m taking over this education. The video’s far too complicated. It’s a simple calculation. Sexual harassment is just a flavor of bullshit with very specific consequences: if you do it, you lose an ear. If you don’t, you live your life.” She produced a folding knife and opened it up. “Bullshit.” She closed it again. “No bullshit.” Opened it “Bullshit.” Closed it. “No bullshit. Now let’s have a demonstration. Who wants to be sexually harassed today?”

The workers at Moody’s Coffee were almost acclimated to Tatiana to the point where the production of a knife and a few threats of bodily harm surprised no one. Still, only Esme raised her hand. She had really developed a taste for Tatiana’s nonsense.

“Are you sure?” said Tatiana, with a hint of amusement.

Esme leaned back in her chair. “Hit me with your best shot.”

“Esme Shelby,” Tatiana said, “The uniform replacements were worth every penny, if only because your tits were absolutely wasted behind those old baggy green shirts.” She turned to the workers and flipped the knife open. “Bullshit. You see?”

“Not sure I’d call that bullshit,” Esme said.

“For the purposes of your education. Now, let’s try a different kind of compliment. Esme, great job today. You really impressed me by getting every order out without a single spill.”

“Snore,” said Esme.

Tatiana flipped the knife closed. “But it wasn’t bullshit. Everyone’s ears stay attached.”

“Kind of mild, wasn’t it?” said Esme.

“What?”

“Your bullshit example.”

“You’d like another?”

“Sure.”

Tatiana stared at her directly. “Esme, every day that I come into this shop, I think to myself: I hope her husband has the stamina of an Arabian horse. Because if I were him, I would make it my personal mission to eat that pussy every single day, and twice on Sundays.”

“Oh, he’s been dead two years now.”

Tatiana, for once, had nothing immediately ready to say.

“But thanks,” Esme added lightly. “He did have a fantastic tongue.”

“I think you’ve got your point across, Petrovna,” said Hanson severely.

“Class dismissed,” said Tatiana.

It was soft and sunny despite the dreadful cold, and during an early afternoon lull, Esme was the only one behind the counter. Having already wiped down the counter, she fell into a reverie. It was broken all too soon by Tatiana saying, sounding for the first time a little anxious, “Did that woman just leave her baby behind in a fucking coffeeshop?”

Esme looked over the counter. Yes, there was a baby in a big black plastic carrier. Fussing. Oh, this was not good. Esme knew that sound. “They’re going to start crying any second now.”

“What do I do?”

“Just talk to them.”

Tatiana leaned over the carrier. Lit like that by the sunlight coming in rays through the windows, she could’ve been a Madonna. But then she spoke. “Ultimately,” she said, “I think you’ll find that life is far better without any parents.”

The baby began to cry.

“Jesus, not like that,” said Esme.

Tatiana shot her a scowl, then turned back to the baby and made her voice a shade softer and several notes lower. “Hello,” she said gravely. Then she blew gently into the baby’s face.

The baby started crying harder.

“Fucking hell. Switch,” ordered Esme, coming out from behind the counter as Tatiana, chagrined, did as she was told. “What was that?”

“It usually works on horses,” Tatiana said.

“On horses? What, have you never seen a baby before?” Esme picked the baby up and cuddled it close. It quieted down a little.

“I’ve seen them, of course, but they’re always other people’s babies.”

“Have you ever held one?”

“I couldn’t.”

“The mum’s not going to care whether it’s you or me. If she comes back at all. And they’ll be fine, as long as you don’t drop them. They’re old enough to hold up their head. Aren’t you?” Esme cooed. “You’ve got a good strong neck.”

The baby considered this, then sneezed into Esme’s shoulder.

“Tatiana, come here.”

Tatiana hesitated.

“It’s the best feeling in the world, come on. Come on.”

“Fine.”

Tatiana held the baby gingerly at first, like it might bite her. The baby looked quizzically at her with their enormous brown eyes.

“It doesn’t like it,” Tatiana said, trying to give the baby back.

Esme stepped away. “Just relax.” Rifling through the diaper bag, she found a soother neatly labeled Christie May and a cup of cereal labeled the same. But no kind of return address anywhere.

“Pardon me.” There was a customer at the counter. Esme’s old statistics professor, to be exact. Damn.

“I’ll be right with you,” she called. “Here.” She passed the soother to Tatiana. “Stick that in her mouth if she starts crying again. Pat her on the back a little too, babies like that.”

Esme had three customers to get through after the professor, but when another lull came, she looked over and saw Tatiana dutifully patting away. After a little while, the baby opened her tiny mouth in a big O of a yawn.

Peace reigned in the coffeeshop, or at least until the door swung open.

“Oh! Hello. Did you make a friend, Christie May?” the mother cooed, making a beeline for the baby and taking her back from Tatiana as if nothing had happened. Tatiana made a face of disgust.

“She was crying,” Esme said. She figured it was better to speak than to have Tatiana say anything.

“Say bye-bye to the nice lady! Bye bye!”

A muscle twitched in Tatiana’s jaw.

“There’s a daycare center just three blocks down Division Street,” said Esme.

“Oh, I know,” the mother said airily. “But I was only gone for twenty minutes. Wasn’t I, sweetheart? Wasn’t I?”

The baby gurgled.

“See?” said the mother, as if that proved something. She put the baby in the carrier, picked up the diaper bag, and headed for the door.

“I’m calling Child Protective Services,” Tatiana shouted after her.

“Well?” said Esme.

“It was alright,” Tatiana said grudgingly.

Esme rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome.”

Esme blinked blearily awake against the punishing morning light. Pounding head, dry mouth. What was this? A flashback to her undergraduate days?

“Here.” One syllable, but the voice was unmistakably Tatiana’s. A glass of water was shoved in Esme’s face, and Esme accepted it.

“Where are the kids?” she croaked.

“At your father’s house. It’s Saturday.”

“I thought it was Friday.”

“It was, but now it’s Saturday.”

“Oh Jesus.”

Tatiana was sitting on the nightstand, sipping apple juice from a kids’ juicebox and looking entirely unsympathetic. Esme went back in her memory to try and figure out if she deserved any of this.

“We got drunk last night,” Esme said.

“Yes. Kids were at your father’s, and it was your night off.”

That sounded about right. Tatiana had closed up shop with her, then offered to share a bottle of rum. That much made sense. “Okay.” Esme set the empty glass down, tried to dig deeper into her memory. “Did I drink vodka?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Why did I drink vodka? I hate vodka.”

“No, you like vodka. When it’s mixed with grapefruit juice and rum and curaçao.”

“What?”

“Get dressed.”

“Nnf.” It was all too much. Esme buried her head in her pillow, only to have it yanked out from under her head. “Why?”

“We have to go to the city. There’s that Christmas dinner with your in-laws.”

“Oh, fuck.” Esme sat up. “We?”

“You invited me to come along, last night. You said, and I quote: ‘I want to see the look on Tommy Shelby’s face when I roll up to his stupid mansion with a woman richer than he is on my arm.’”

“That does sound like something I would say.”

“And then you said you wanted to find his knighthood ribbon and flush it down a toilet.”

“I’m not gonna do that.”

“But you want to.”

“You’re not going to do it either.”

“But I want to!”

“You’re not coming.”

“What, you’re going to make the four-hour drive all by yourself?” Tatiana rolled her eyes. “Hurry up and meet me out front, or we’ll be unfashionably late.”

“Tatiana.”

“Mm?”

“Did we have sex?”

“While you were that drunk? Of course not, it would be cheating you of the full Petrovna experience.” With a wink, she shut the bedroom door behind her.

Thanks to the gift of single motherhood, Esme could sleep anywhere, anytime, for as long as she was allowed, so when Tatiana shook her awake, she found herself in Tommy’s neighborhood. God, the place was horrid, with its wrought-iron gates, manicured lawns, and unfiltered bullshit.

“We’re half an hour late!” Tatiana chirped. “This will be good.” She got out of the car. Esme stumbled out after her.

“Wait, shouldn’t we coordinate on–”

Tatiana had produced a garment bag from the trunk of her car. “It’s the holidays, Esme. Did you think I’d come underdressed?” She passed another bag to Esme. “Or that I’d let you?” She opened the car door. “Go on, the windows are tinted for a reason.”

Esme wanted to argue, but this was her only good dress, the same dress that she’d worn to the last Christmas dinner, which Polly would undoubtedly notice. And she was curious.

The bag turned out to contain a sleeveless dark blue sequined number and a matching set of diamond chandelier earrings and a necklace. Damn. Esme had been expecting something more like a shirt with a middle finger printed on it, but come to think of it, this was better. This was much better.

“How’d you pick the fit?” she asked, when she emerged.

“I’m observant.” Tatiana disappeared into the car and came out wearing a cream-colored dress embellished with seemingly dozens, maybe hundreds of tiny pearls. And a fur shrug.

“Good job Ada’s not coming, else you’d get an earful for that.” Saying it was really an excuse for Esme to poke the fur as they walked towards Tommy’s house. It was just as soft as it looked.

“I can take on all comers.”

“I don’t doubt it, but you’ll have your hands full with Polly and Tommy. And Arthur, if he gets offended.”

“And Linda.”

How much had Esme told her while drunk, exactly? Oh well, it was too late to find out. “Definitely Linda,” she agreed.

“We’ll have a good time. It’s always easier to ruin a party when you’re not the host.”

Tatiana rapped on the front door as Esme looked over the big white architectural monstrosity in front of them, with its stupid balcony and its myriad of windows.

“I hate this place,” Esme said.

“I’ve stayed in larger summer homes than this,” Tatiana said. And somehow, that did make Esme feel better about it all.

The door was opened by none other than Tommy himself, in his customary suit, looking every inch as infuriating as the last time she’d seen him, which by no coincidence was the last dinner.

“What, no butler?” said Esme.

He cleared his throat and gave Esme a meaningful look. “We’ve had trouble with servants before.”

She rolled her eyes and brushed past him. “You’re always having trouble.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” he said.

“Tatiana, this is Tommy. Tommy, this is Tatiana.”

“Her brother-in-law,” said Tommy, sticking his hands in his pockets. For a second, Esme forgot that bringing Tatiana along was only a prank, and got more than a little annoyed that he wouldn’t just shake her hand.

But Tatiana tilted her hand and gave a lovely smile. “Her sugar daddy.” With that, she handed over the fur to Tommy, as if he were a footman, and swept down the hallway, latching onto Esme’s arm.

“What was that?” Esme murmured under her breath.

“Thought you said you wanted a rich woman on your arm.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s perfect. What better way to annoy them than to go over their heads?”

To be fair, there was nothing Tommy liked less than a competing power. And even if it wasn’t true, it would be delicious to make him think for a moment that the only hold he had on her (the trust he’d put together for the children’s college education) was no longer relevant.

“Just eat your food and enjoy the show,” said Tatiana, and then it was the dining room, and introductions.

Tatiana was at her most charming through the fourth course, and then, sometime during the fifth, Polly put down her fork and said, in that deliberate, clear voice that Esme hated: “So, Tatiana, what is it you do for work?”

“I sell coffee.”

“Ah.”

“And jewels. Art, books, cheese. Used to sell vodka. But now I only drink it.” She smiled brightly. “And I’m getting my master’s in psychology.”

“What is that, the study of psychos?” Arthur guffawed.

“Yes.” Tatiana didn’t look over; she and Polly were engaged in some sort of a staredown that left Esme on the edge of her seat and also possibly a little horny.

“Jewels?” said Tommy, breaking it up. It was the first he’d spoken for quite some time.

“All kinds,” said Tatiana, and all right, Esme did not care for the way her voice seemed to have dropped half an octave down.

“And what did you say your last name was?”

“I didn’t.”

Tommy pushed his chair back from the table, stood, and left. The east wing, Esme thought; his office. Maybe making a call. Maybe–

“Bathroom?” said Tatiana.

Polly pointed down the west wing. “Four downs the hall.”

“Thanks.” Tatiana got up and went in the opposite direction. Right after Tommy.

Polly was halfway out of her chair to follow when Esme said her name.

“What?” Polly snapped.

“There’ something I need to ask you.”

“Yes?”

“These mushrooms. They’re perfect. Could you share the recipe with me?”

“You know we have a cook,”

“Of course, I’m sorry,” Esme said.

Finn, in a desperate attempt to rescue the situation, sallied forth. “Aunt Linda, have you seen any good movies lately?”

And then it was nothing but the most stilted of small talk while Arthur got drunker and drunker and Esme and Polly sniped at each other, until Tommy and Tatiana returned, Tommy with the faintest traces of bruises beginning to form on his neck, and Tatiana wearing lipstick two shades darker than the one she’d been wearing when she left the table. Less like scarlet, more like blood.

Esme had to hand it to her; she knew how to crash a party. Even Arthur, seven drinks in, looked absolutely horrified. Esme found herself feeling nothing but proud. And maybe a little jealous.

“What did I miss?” said Tatiana.

Tommy didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, and was instead focusing all his attention on chewing a piece of beef.

“Oh, nothing much,” said Esme. “Finn wants to go see the latest Batman movie.”

When they got to the car, Esme collapsed into laughter. “So?” she said, when she had finally caught her breath. By then, they were on the highway. “Did you fuck, or did you fight?”

“Yes.” Tatiana glanced over. “Are you jealous?”

“Why?”

“He’s an eight.”

“He’s a five, and I bet he’s a rotten lay.” Childishly, Esme hoped this would yield some details.

“I can see where you’re coming from,” said Tatiana thoughtfully, fishing a cigarette from her purse with one hand. “Widowers, especially the sad ones, can be a drag. So weepy.” She lit the cigarette. “But if you get the right one, it can be delightful. They fuck with such desperation.”

“Ah.” And there it was, the core of the annual Shelby fight: there were too many empty spots at the table where the people they loved should be sitting, and hating each other was easier than thinking about it.

“Hey.” Tatiana caught her before she could slide too far down into that particular pit of horrors. “Cheer up. I got you something.”

“What?”

“Look in the zipper pocket of my purse.”

“Is this…?”

“I dub thee Lady Esme Shelby, Duchess of Cappuchino.”

“You know what?” Esme pinned Tommy’s knighthood ribbon to her dress. “I think I’ll keep it.”

“Merry Christmas, Esme.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Esme didn’t see Tatiana for two days, and then she showed up at closing, just after Carter had left and Esme was the only one in the shop.

“Hey,” said Esme.

Tatiana sauntered up to the counter. “I got you something.” She slid three envelopes across. In the first were two season passes to the orchestra. In the second, a key. In the third, cash. All in different denominations, twenties, tens, fives, ones. Nonsequential, too. Esme checked.

“You said Katie wants to be be a flautist,” Tatiana said. “So, orchestra.”

Esme looked up. “What is this?”

“Am I not your sugar daddy?”

“I thought that was a joke.”

“I could take them back and get a refund. But put it all together, and it’s still not enough to buy a bottle of 1811 Château d'Yquem.”

“No, I’ll take it.”

Tatiana smirked.

“What?”

“You’re proud about money with Tommy, but not with me.”

“Among his casualties, whether he admits it or not, is my husband. Among your casualties is nobody I care about.”

“You assume I’ve caused deaths.”

“I find it better to assume guilt than otherwise, at this point. Anyways, nobody who wears a five thousand dollar dress is innocent.”

Tatiana appeared to absorb this. Esme could see the wheels turning in her head. “What are you doing on Saturday?” Tatiana said.

“Why?”

“I could find you a babysitter.”

“And?”

“You could find out what’s underneath the five thousand dollar dress.”

Esme couldn’t read her. “Is this because widows fuck with such delightful desperation?”

“No.”

“Is this because you’re experimenting with becoming a sugar daddy?”

“No.”

“Is this some long-con sexual harassment example?”

“Esme. This is only because of you.”

Esme searched her green eyes for a hint of laughter, but for the first time, there was nothing but honesty. That was more terrifying than all of Tatiana’s bullshit smiles put together.

Esme leaned over the counter and kissed her.

Her hair was just as soft as Esme always imagined, and she licked and bit at Esme’s lips just the same. But it was good in ways Esme had never thought of, had not felt in a long, long time.

“You look different with your hair down,” Esme murmured, finally.

“I look different with my clothes off, too.”

“I’ve got kids at home, a babysitter that can’t do overnight. And in-laws that I can’t get rid of, and some other people that make me stick close to home, always get paid in cash, and keep my pictures off the internet. You know that?”

“I do. That’s what this is for.“ Tatiana tapped the second envelope. “I know when you’ve got a day off. I’ll be waiting.”

That was a good, dramatic moment for her to walk out, but she kept standing there, looking at Esme like a fallen angel, all lipstick and bad decisions, and Esme couldn’t help it. She kissed her again.

#Esme x Tatiana #Tatiana x Esme #Esme Shelby #Tatiana Petrovna #Peaky Blinders #Peaky Blinders imagine #Peaky Blinders fanfiction #fic #mine #ask games #prompts #prompt #correspondence

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thisdaynews · 3 years ago

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Full List Of Winners At The 2021 MTV Music Video Awards

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/full-list-of-winners-at-the-2021-mtv-music-video-awards/

Full List Of Winners At The 2021 MTV Music Video Awards

The 2021 MTV Music Video Awards was hung on Sunday with Lil Nas X, Olivia Rodrigo, Beyonce, Justin Bieber arising among the champs at the occasion.

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Nigeria’s own personal Wizkid returned home with the Best Cinematography class for the Song “Earthy colored Skin Girl” by Beyoncé, Blue Ivy, SAINt JHN, and him.

Lil Nas X scored the night’s top honor, Video of the Year, for “Montero (Call Me by Your Name)”.

As well as performing pop, sensation Olivia Rodrigo scored three honors, including Song of the Year for “Drivers License” and Best New Artist.

Justin Bieber in the interim won Artist of the Year alongside Best Pop for “Peaches.”

See full rundown of victors at the 2021 MTV Video Music Award:

Video of the Year

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“Montero (Call Me By Your Name)” – Lil Nas X, Columbia Records — Winner

“WAP” – Cardi B ft. Megan Thee Stallion, Atlantic Records

“Popstar” – DJ Khaled ft. Drake (featuring Justin Bieber) OVO/We The Best/Epic Records

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“Kiss Me More” – Doja Cat ft. SZA, Kemosabe Records/RCA Records

“Negative quirks” – Ed Sheeran, Atlantic Records

“Save Your Tears” – The Weeknd, XO/Republic Records

Craftsman of the Year

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Justin Bieber — Winner

Ariana Grande

Doja Cat

Megan Thee Stallion

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Olivia Rodrigo

Taylor Swift

Tune of the Year

“Drivers License” – Olivia Rodrigo, Geffen Records — Winner

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“Disposition” – 24kGoldn ft. Iann Dior, Records LLC/Columbia Records

“Leave the Door Open” – Bruno Mars, Anderson .Paak, Silk Sonic, Aftermath Entertainment/Atlantic Records

“Explosive” – BTS, Bighit Music

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“WAP” – Cardi B ft. Megan Thee Stallion, Atlantic Records

“Suspending” – Dua Lipa, Warner Records

Best New Artist

Olivia Rodrigo — Winner

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24kGoldn

Giveon

The Kid Laroi

Polo G

Saweetie

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Push Performance of the Year

“Drivers License” – Olivia Rodrigo, Geffen Records — Winner

“Are You Bored Yet?” – Wallows, Atlantic Records

“Daisy” – Ashnikko, Warner Records

“Beautiful” – Saint Jhn, Godd Complexx/HITCO

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“Coco” – 24kGoldn, Records LLC/Columbia Records

“Make Me extremely upset” – JC Stewart, Elektra Music Group

“Sex Lies” – Latto, RCA Records

“Egotistical” – Madison Beer, Epic Records/Sing It Loud

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“Without You” – The Kid Laroi, Columbia Records

“Serotonin” – Girl in Red, World dressed in Red/AWAL

“My Slime” – Fousheé, RCA Records

“Contemplate Me” – Jxdn, DTA Records/Elektra Music Group

Best Collaboration

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“Kiss Me More” – Doja Cat ft. SZA, Kemosabe Records/RCA Records — Winner

“Temperament” – 24kGoldn ft. Iann Dior, Records LLC/Columbia Records

“WAP” – Cardi B ft. Megan Thee Stallion, Atlantic Records

“Giggle Now Cry Later” – Drake ft. Lil Durk, OVO/Republic Records

“Peaches” – Justin Bieber ft. Daniel Caesar, Giveon, Def Jam

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“Detainee” – Miley Cyrus ft. Dua Lipa, RCA Records

Best Pop

“Peaches” – Justin Bieber ft. Daniel Caesar, Giveon, Def Jam — Winner

“Positions” – Ariana Grande, Republic Records

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“Subsequently I Am” – Billie Eilish, Darkroom/Interscope Records

“Spread” – BTS, Bighit Music

“Treat People With Kindness” – Harry Styles, Columbia Records

“Great 4 U” – Olivia Rodrigo, Geffen Records

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“Marvel” – Shawn Mendes, Island Records

“Willow” – Taylor Swift, Republic Records

Best Hip-Hop

“Establishment” – Travis Scott ft. Youthful Thug and M.I.A., Cactus Jack/Epic Records — Winner

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“WAP” – Cardi B ft. Megan Thee Stallion, Atlantic Records

“Giggle Now Cry Later” – Drake ft. Lil Durk, OVO/Republic Records

“On Me (remix)” – Lil Baby ft. Megan Thee Stallion, Quality Control/Motown

“Said Sum” – Moneybagg Yo, N-Less Entertainment/Interscope Records

“Rapstar” – Polo G, Columbia Records

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Best Alternative

“My Ex’s Best Friend” – Machine Gun Kelly ft. Blackbear, Bad Boy/Interscope Records — Winner

“Quit Making This Hurt” – Bleachers, RCA Records

“Warmth Waves” – Glass Animals, Republic Records

“Follow You” – Imagine Dragons, Kidinakorner/Interscope Records

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“Bashful Away” – Twenty One Pilots, Fueled By Ramen

“Straightforward Soul” – Willow ft. Travis Barker, MSFTSMusic/Roc Nation

Best R&B

“Leave the Door Open” – Bruno Mars, Anderson .Paak, Silk Sonic, Aftermath Entertainment/Atlantic Records — Winner

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“Earthy colored Skin Girl” – Beyoncé, Blue Ivy, Saint Jhn, WizKid, Parkwood Entertainment/Columbia Records

“Go Off the deep end” – Chris Brown and Young Thug, Chris Brown Entertainment/RCA Records

“Awfulness Anniversary” – Giveon, Epic Records/Not So Fast

“Come Through” – H.E.R. ft. Chris Brown, MBK Entertainment/RCA Records

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“Great Days” – SZA, Top Dawg Entertainment/RCA Records

Best K-pop

“Margarine” – BTS, Bighit Music — Winner

“Dumdi” – G)I-DLE, Republic Records

“Frozen yogurt” – Blackpink and Selena Gomez, YG Entertainment/Interscope Records

“Card shark” – Monsta X, Starship Entertainment

“Prepared to adore” – Seventeen, Pledis Entertainment

“Liquor Free” – Twice, JYP Entertainment Company

Video For Good

“Your Power” – Billie Eilish, Darkroom/Interscope Records — Winner

“Playing with fire” – Demi Lovato, Island

“Battle For You” – H.E.R., MBK Entertainment/RCA Records

“Overall Beautiful” – Kane Brown, Sony Music Nashville/RCA Records

“Montero (Call Me By Your Name)” – Lil Nas X, Columbia Records

“Business visionary” – Pharrell Williams ft. Jay-Z, Columbia Records

Best Direction

“Montero (Call Me By Your Name)” – Lil Nas X coordinated by: Lil Nas X and Tanu Muino, Columbia Records — Winner

“Your Power” – Billie Eilish, Directed by: Billie Eilish, Darkroom/Interscope Records

“Popstar (featuring Justin Bieber)” – DJ Khaled ft. Drake, Directed by: Julien Christian Lutz also known as Director X, OVO/We The Best/Epic Records

“Willow” – Taylor Swift, Directed by: Taylor Swift, Republic Records

“Establishment” – Travis Scott ft. Youthful Thug and M.I.A, Directed by: Travis Scott, Cactus Jack/Epic Records

“Logger” – Tyler, The Creator, Directed by: Wolf Haley, Columbia Records

Best Cinematography

“Earthy colored Skin Girl” – Beyoncé, Blue Ivy, SAINt JHN, WizKid, Cinematography by: Benoit Soler, Malik H. Sayeed, Mohammaed Atta Ahmed, Santiago Gonzalez, Ryan Helfant, Parkwood Entertainment/Columbia Records — Winner

“Subsequently I Am” – Billie Eilish, Cinematography by: Rob Witt, Darkroom/Interscope Records

“Disgrace Shame” – Foo Fighters, Cinematography by: Santiago Gonzalez, Roswell Records/RCA Records

“Blessed” – Justin Bieber ft. Chance The Rapper, Cinematography by: Elias Talbot, RBMG/Def Jam

“911” – Lady Gaga, Cinematography by: Jeff Cronenweth, Interscope Records

“Sun based Power” – Lorde, Cinematography by: Andrew Stroud, LAVA/Republic Records

Best Choreography

“Treat People With Kindness” – Harry Styles, Columbia Records — Winner

“34+35” – Ariana Grande, Choreography by: Brian Nicholson and Scott Nicholson, Republic Records

“Margarine” – BTS, Choreography by: Son Sung with BHM Performance Directing Team, Bighit Music

“Negative propensities” – Ed Sheeran, Choreography by: Natricia Bernard, Atlantic Records

“Disgrace Shame” – Foo Fighters, Choreography by: Nina McNeely, Roswell Records/RCA Records

“Be Kind” – Marshmello and Halsey, Choreography by: Dani Vitale, Astralwerks/Capitol Records

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deadcactuswalking · 4 years ago

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REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 01/05/2021

You know the drill by now, right? This week is a strange one, and we’ll get to exactly why in a bit but for now, Lil Nas X’s “MONTERO (Call Me by Your Name)” spends a fifth week at #1. Welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS.

Rundown

Just as we had a pretty relaxed week last week, we have another one this time, and possibly one of the least interesting weeks in British singles chart history, if anything just preparing us for whatever comes out of the DJ Khaled album next week. With that said, there is some movement in the UK Top 75, the group of songs which I cover, including some notable drop-outs, notable in this case meaning the song had spent more than five weeks on the chart or peaked in the top 40. That includes AJ Tracey’s “Anxious” off of the album-boosted return last week and “Best Friend” by Saweetie featuring Doja Cat making its exit after 15 weeks.

We do have some returning entries as well, as “Addicted” by Jorja Smith makes a comeback to #58, alongside some bottom-hangers like “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi at #72 and “Slumber Party” by Ashnikko featuring Princess Nokia right beside it at #73. Where it gets more interesting would be our gains and losses, and starting with the latter, we have “Don’t Play” by Anne-Marie, KSI and Digital Farm Animals getting ACR’d at #45, HVME’s remix of Travis Scott’s “Goosebumps” falling naturally to #48, “Solid” by Young Stoner Life, Young Thug and Gunna featuring Drake at #55 off of the debut, “Mr. Perfectly Fine” by Taylor Swift at #63 and “Mercury” by Dave and Kamal. plunging to #68, as well as some seriously harsh drops for Central Cee as “Commitment Issues” falls to #57 and “6 for 6” is at #64.

Our gains, however, are a lot more interesting. We have “Watermelon Sugar” by Harry Styles taking advantage of a weak chart at #70, “How Does it Feel” by London Grammar with an unexpected boost to #67, about as unexpected as “Sunshine (The Light)” by Fat Joe, DJ Khaled and Amorphous at #62, “Heat” by Paul Woolford and Amber Mark at #61, “You” by Regard, Troye Sivan and Tate McRae off of the debut to #56, “Cover Me in Sunshine” by P!nk and Willow Sage Heart at #54, “Martin & Gina” by Polo G rebounding at #51, “Marea (We’ve Lost Dancing)” by Fred again.. and The Blessed Madonna sadly at #47 and “Summer 91 (Looking Back)” by Noizu at #43. Entering the top 40 for the first time are “Last Time” by Becky Hill at #39 and “Starstruck” by Years & Years at #38, their first top 40 hit since 2018. They join other gains within the top 40 like “Anywhere Away from Here” by Rag’n’Bone Man and P!nk rebounding to #32, “Runaway” by AURORA at #29, “Didn’t Know” by Tom Zanetti at #24 and Majestic’s remix of “Rasputin” by Boney M. at #21. Whilst the Ariana Grande remix may have done nothing for “Save Your Tears” by The Weeknd just pushing up to #20, a remix did have an effect on “Body” by Russ Millions and Tion Wayne, surging up to the top 10 at #4 thanks to a new version with ArrDee, ZT and E1 of 3x3, Darkoo, Buni, Bugzy Malone and, for whatever reason, Fivio Foreign. None of those artists are credited by the Official Charts Company however so it just becomes both Russ and Tion Wayne’s highest ever charting song. So, now that all of that is out of the way, how about we get into our new arrivals... or shall I say, new arrival?

NEW ARRIVAL

#75 – “Come Through” – H.E.R. featuring Chris Brown

Produced by Cardiak

Yeah, I said this was an uninteresting week, but really, what are the odds that in the entire UK Singles Chart, the only song to enter the top 75 of songs listened to by the British public in this tracking week was at #75 and by Chris Brown? Yeah, it must be really dire here in ol’ England, huh? I was thinking about how to get around this – I mean, there are two more new arrivals in the top 100 in general that I found whilst fact-checking this anomaly of a week, but it’s just some house song and a Bugzy Malone throwaway single, both of which might debut in the top 75 proper next week. I could have talked about some foreign charts, like, say, the US Billboard Hot 100? Australia? The global charts? Hell, I could have even betrayed my nation and talked about the French charts for this episode. I decided against that, however, on a basis of principle. When I started this series up again after a break in Autumn of last year, I promised to myself that I would bring what this series used to lack: consistency. I would always, on every Saturday, deliver a review of the songs that first entered the UK Top 75 that week. That is the plan and how it will stay until I decide to overhaul the format again, which at this rate is probably going to be a temporary Christmas fix and not much else. With all that said, I’m a compulsive liar. I’m not going to review a Chris Brown song; I’ve always actively avoided reviewing his songs proper on this series and this is no different as you can tell by a stalling method I’d perfected for when this guy’s songs end up in the public consciousness. H.E.R.’s success in the US has always seemed really odd for me considering how little the public resonates with all of her award-winning, critically-acclaimed work – that has never done anything for me personally – and this is actually her highest-charting song in the UK as a lead artist as a result of the feature from one Mr. Breezy. Speaking of that guy, he has never released a good song that doesn’t feature Drake and even that is stretching it as really he just has that one good song with Drake from around 2019 and nothing else. Of course, that’s just my opinion, and if you like the man’s music, that’s fine, but I really can’t get over how the industry has normalised this guy so heavily considering his streak of continually abusive and violent behaviour. I’d wish the guy got help if it at least made the music any better. At least it’s not “Freaky Friday”, I suppose.

Conclusion

Surely, Cactus, you can’t give a song any of the titles in a week where there’s only one song to review, right, let alone Worst of the Week? My answer to that is, “Screw you, it’s my show”, and that Worst of the Week goes to “Come Through” by H.E.R. featuring Chris Brown. Best of the Week goes to – God, I don’t know, that song 3OH!3 did with Katy Perry in 2009. Now, that’s a pop classic. Here’s this week’s top 10:

Thank you for reading! I’ll see you next week.

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randywillcox · 4 years ago

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This man lives in my neighborhood and is missing. I'm sharing this in case any of my friends nearby see this. There is contact info in the body of the text. ❤️🙏🏻 #Repost @maxylvania ・・・ Update on my cousin Richard from his sister: >Please help spread the word by sharing this post. My sweet brother RIchard is a vulnerable, mentality challenged man who left my home in Ditmars Astoria area sometime between 11pm-2:20 am on the night of Monday July 13th. He may have changed into his blue jeans and blue/gray polo shirt, but when I last saw him at bedtime he had on grey shorts and a white tank. He left with a black knapsack and grey sneakers and all his personal items, including his wallet, ID, Medicaid card and very little money. He is 5’11”, 220 lbs, has dark hair, brown eyes. His goal would be to get to his home where he lived with my elderly mother in Howard Beach, Queens NY. He does not know how to navigate the transit system and is most likely on foot. He has difficulty crossing streets so I don’t know how far he got from my home. He is very friendly and would most likely seek help, but as the hours pass I’m certain he’s terribly frightened, hungry, exhausted, thirsty and in need of a rest room. I doubt he is wearing his face mask. Please help us by sharing this post. There has been a silver alert issued for him because he is a vulnerable person. If you have any information please contact the 114 precinct in Astoria or the 106 precinct in Howard Beach. He is a member of the AHRC program for people with disabilities, who are working with us as well as the authorities to help return him safely to us. If you would like to help organize a foot patrol or help with flyer distribution in Queens you can reach out to The Astoria Mutual Aid society at 646 397-8383. If you would like to organize something yourself or can think of any way possible to assist us in our desperate search you have my blessings. I will post information as it becomes available to me. We appreciate your prayers and positive vibes. Let’s get my brother home!< #silveralert #missingperson #mentallychallengedadults #queensnyc🌎 #106thprecinct #developmentallydisabled #vulnerablepeople (at Ditmars, Queens) https://www.instagram.com/p/CCqkRpuH4bS/?igshid=1odjkijriwnq7

#repost #silveralert #missingperson #mentallychallengedadults #queensnyc🌎#106thprecinct #developmentallydisabled #vulnerablepeople

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fmf-ff · 8 years ago

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Chapter 1

"Justice," I heard my sister call out to me, but I didn't say anything just to get on her nerves. "Jus!" Rolling my eyes, I shook my head at her yelling through the house like she was crazy. Our mama taught us better than the ratchet shit she sometimes portrayed but that didn't stop her from acting like she knew any better. I couldn't really say much though, cause there were things I knew she wouldn't be proud of me doing. Justice and Justynne Gonzalez born to Richard and Angela Gonzalez just one year apart with me being the oldest. I've always thought it was amazing for us to be carried by the same woman, born and raised by the same parents, live together all those years and yet we could be so different. She was more of the outgoing, love attention type while I could settle for just a few friends and being invisible to the rest of the world. She loved the idea of saving herself til marriage, while I..well, I have a three year old daughter so that should say enough. She preferred weed, while I preferred to drink. She's been in multiple relationships, while for the longest I was with my daughter's father. She has friend after friend, while I've had the same two, outside of her, since middle school. But through it all, she was my sister and we loved each other through our differences. "Okay bitch, I know you hear me. Fuck you at? Niecy pooh tell mama, fuck you a-" "I wish you would Josie," I scolded while stepping out of the kitchen. "Make me hurt you Justynne" I watched as she stuck her tongue out, stepping around me with my daughter in her arms. My daughter, Josie Marie Jones, or Bugz as I called her, is the single most important reason of my being. She's my blessing, my miracle child and my heart. It was because of her I was back home, and able to push aside my ill feelings towards her dad. She had no part in our choices, and deserved to know who helped create her. "You just gone pass me up Bugz? You don't love mama?" My heart fluttered, watching her big doe eyes dart to mines with a smile as bright as day lighten the room. "Juice!" "Yeah, auntie getting her baby some juice." She clapped, waiting patiently on the counter after she sat her down to retrieve the juice. "So, tonight-" "Nope," I wasted no time in cutting her off, already knowing she was only trying to invite me out. "Don't look at me like that, no Nene. I'm not going out" "Oh yes you are hussie! Ma and daddy already said they'd watch Bugz since ya'll are back in town soooo, get over it" Bugz was now humming as she sipped from the juice carton she'd gotten from her auntie, oblivious to the conversation being held before her. Innocence was something I wish I could have back. "Nene, I haven't been out in over a year. I-" "Chile please, that's why ya ass is coming with me. Now feed my niece, give her a nap and take her to the parentals so we can get ready." "I guess me saying I'm not going out means nothing?" "Nope, now chop chop booski" Sighing, I watched her retreating figure before turning to face Bugz. "What we gone eat Bugz?" "Shiken nuggets!" I nodded, returning her smile. "Chicken nuggets it is..." **** Bugz had only been gone an hour and half a bottle of the Crown Apple had been finished along with two blunts. Even though I didn't like to party, it didn't mean I didn't like to or know how to turn up. I could get lit just like the next person could, and could probably hold my liquor better than most. Now when you mix the two substances, I was sure to be live at this club she had dragged me to. Gio's Palace was her choice tonight, a spot for twenty-five and up to enjoy good music and hopefully good people. The parking lot was packed, so when we entered to see the crowded establishment I wasn't even surprised. "Ayyy, -smoke something one time. Drank something one time, tear the club up one time. Smoke something one time-" "Smooooke," I smiled, bobbing my head to the beat while joining in with the adlibs. "Drank something one time-" "Draaaank, ayyyy get it bihhh" I laughed, grabbing ahold of her hand as we made our way up to the VIP section to get to the table she reserved for us. "Let me see stamps" My eyes traveled up the long frame belonging to the security guard blocking the entrance into VIP before sticking out my arm for him to shine his light over my wrist to see the invisible ink that we received upon entry into the club. "Thank you ladies, enjoy your time" We both mumbled a quick thanks before making our way to our table. "Yooo, this shit is live!" I nodded, not speaking a word as I looked around taking in the many bodies around us. "We need more drinks, shots orrrrr-" I turned to face Nene, giving her a knowing look as we both stated. "Bottle" "Be right back," she spoke in my ear then stood and briskly made her way over to the bar with my eyes on her the entire time. I was only alone about five minutes before I felt an intense gaze diverting my attention to that of a beautiful pair of brown orbs. I gasped, truly taken away by the force that hit me once our eyes connected; My heart rate increased, my stomach seemed to turn flips, and my thighs clenched at the sight of the man across from me. He was gorgeous, to say the least. His medium brown skin appeared smooth and scar free, his lips nice and plump, and to top it all off his possibly 6 foot stature screamed of confidence and a self assured boldness that I'm sure had yet to be turned down by anyone he had approached in the past. Which, just by looking at him, who in their right mind would turn him down? The man was sex on legs, a true God given gift for anyone attracted to the male species to ogle over. I've never seen anyone so...damn...sexy before. "Excuse me beautiful," without a care in the world, I took my time allowing my eyes to travel from his feet that were covered by what appeared to be a fresh new pair of white and black retro 12s, to a pair of light gray 501s that hung just right off his waist that led to the white polo fitting his frame before gazing over the strong neck that held up his perfect face. "Yes?" His eyes beamed brightly as the corners of his mouth lifted north, showcasing an award winning smile I'm sure would win any contest. "I've been watching you since you came up these stairs here, and I had to come speak-" "Oh?" My brow now lifted in question. "To say what?" My eyes dropped down to his mouth, watching as his tongue slithered out to moisten his lips, before lifting back to meet his gaze. "Well I was gone get ya name, and usually I don't do this but seeing how you damn near fuckin' a nigga in ya head-" he sat down beside me, getting close enough to let me smell the intoxicating fragrance he wore before leaning over to speak in my ear. "Why don't we head to the back and skip the introductions" What he stated was just that, a statement, and far from a question that he would allow me to answer. Did I mind? No Clearly not since I had allowed him to grab ahold of my hand and assist me up from the couch I was sitting on. And I still didn't mind as he led me past the envious stares of men and women, or even my sister who now held a bottle of apple Crown in her hand as she watched with a curious glare as I walked away with this stranger I had yet to figure out why I was allowing him this control. Control I'm sure he was used to. Control that I wasn't used to allowing a man to have... but I can't say that I would mind submitting to him. The hallway he led me to was dark and empty, probably a sign that I should snatch away from him and head back the way we'd come from. For all I know, he could be a serial killer. Or a rapist even...but I didn't care. Just like I didn't care as he let my hand go so he could unlock the steel door we stood outside of. Or once he pushed the door in and stepped back to allow me to enter the darkened room, and I damn sure didn't care once I felt his hand at my waist, pushing me against the door. Within a second, the light was flipped on but I wasn't allowed a chance to look around because soon as the switch was flipped, the door was locked and his lips were attached to my neck permitting a low groan to escape my own. His body leaned against mines, trapping me between him and the door as he continued to lick and suck on my hot flesh bringing me to a point of no return. There was no turning back now, he had released the part of me I had hidden for months now but this fire he had started needed to be tamed. Quickly "Strip" It was indeed a command he spat out, one I abided by in a matter of seconds. "All of it," he demanded after watching me step out of my black liquid high waist shorts and black g-string. I stood frozen, unable to perform the task I was given. His eyes had me locked in and momentarily stuck. A knowing smirk soon graced his face, his tongue slipping out again to wet his lips as he took two steps to stand in front of me. "I see you need help" I opened my mouth, but nothing came out so I settled for not saying a word..allowing him to take that as his cue to continue on with whatever he chose to do to me. For whatever reason, I trusted him to do as he pleased. "Can't speak now?" No, I thought while watching his hands undo the buttons of my blouse before slipping it off and down onto the floor. "Guess not, s'all good though baby. Imma have that ass screaming in jussst a second," his warm breath caused goose bumps to spread across my skin, or it could've been the feel of his rough yet gentle touch against my heated, awaiting mound. His hand cupped my love, "mm shit," he paused, allowing a finger to slide down the slit of my bare lower lips. "That pussy faaaaaat" I shivered, feeling his lips upon my skin. Fuck me!!! I screamed in my head, I wanted this man now. Right now, but for whatever reason he was taking his time and I wouldn't dare act like the fiend in need of her fix, even though I truly was. I gasped at the feel of coolness beneath me, when did he carry me over to this desk? The question wasn't even of importance, especially not once he stepped back and removed his polo, giving me a glimpse of what I would be scratching up- Hopefully. I watched as he undid his belt, his eyes trained on the task at hand. His movement was slow, now tauntingly unbuckling and unzipping his jeans before letting them drop in a pool around his feet. My eyes darted back to what he held between his legs, the bulge he hid wasn't one I could've guessed he held. It was large. So large my tongue decided to make an appearance, wetting the flesh of my lips as he pulled down the cotton material of his boxer briefs. "Mm" I hissed at my betrayal moan, not wanting him to know just how much I liked what was before me but it was too late now. The smirk he held let that be known. "You moaning?" I know he didn't expect me to answer, he heard me just as well as I heard myself. His body, just as naked as mines, approached me with my eyes still trained on his member standing at full attention. "Grab it," he commanded, and of course I obliged. His bottom lip now prisoner between his teeth, my hand gripping as much as I could of the hardened piece of art. Because that's what it was, art. A flawless; long, thick, slightly curved, and not too dark, piece of art...with a fat head. "Mm," I moaned again at my thoughts, feeling my girl cream at what I thought he could do. "You want it?" I nodded. "Talk to me then, tell me what you want me to do." Fuck me! I screamed again, now only if he could hear inside my head. That's where I was bold and said what I wanted, but since I didn't know him, the shy side of me spoke up. "I-i don't know" "Oh?" I was curious of his tone, it was as if he was quest-ion-ing. "What are you doing?" His lip was still hidden behind his teeth, but his hands...his hands were on my thighs, carefully spreading my legs apart as if they were precious cargo. "You nuttin' for a nigga already, tells me exactly what those pretty lips up top won't say." "Which is?" His head lifted, those pretty brown eyes said enough but what came out next was nothing but the truth. "You ready to get this dick wet" I groaned at the sound of his lust filled voice, definitely ready to do just as he said. "You want this dick?" His questioned went unanswered as I watched him grab ahold of himself and slowly slide it down my slit. "Huh?" I nodded. He smirked, shaking his head. "Guess imma have to teach you how to use ya words, yea?" "N-oooooooo," my eyes closed, my back arched, and my mouth dropped at his sudden invasion between my legs. "Fuuuuuuck," I hissed at the feel of him knocking against what felt to be my cervix. He was just that deep. "There you go baby, words" His hips rocked against me, giving me a chance to adjust to his size. He knew what he was working with. "You ready?" "Mm- for- for what?" "You ready?" My eyes opened at him asking again, gasping once I saw he was already looking at me. "Are...you...ready?" "Ye-yes" There was that damned smirk again, it was a look that made me nervous. His body retreated, but slowly pushed his way back in, adding a roll just before burying himself deep inside. "Remember, words" I nodded feverishly, anticipating his next move. "They can't hear you out there, so let me hear you." I nodded again, watching him pull out a little before his eyes met mines. "Words" Now even though I'm a freak and loved it rough, I wasn't prepared for what he had to deliver. He had my legs spread wide, damn near in a split as he gave relentless strokes to my awaiting core. His pumps were messy, just like I liked it. No use in going slow, my secretions were evidence of my eagerness. "Fuck this pussy tight" My moans sounded loudly throughout the room, each stroke producing a slushing noise showcasing my wetness for him. I tried my hardest to do more than just lay here, meeting about every other stroke of his with one of my own. "Shit, you tryna fuck me back?" His back arched as he continued to fuck me on his desk. He had my right leg perched on his shoulder while he leaned slightly to his right, allowing him to fuck me at angle and hit a spot that had my eyes rolling to the back of my head just a few minutes in. "Ohhhhh fuu-u-u-u, oh shit," I sounded out loud and proud, hell, it felt too good not to. "Yea, keep nuttin' on this dick, baby" He placed my leg back down on his desk only to pick my left leg up and on his shoulder to provide the same attention as he did to the other side. By this point, I was out done with how good he was dicking me down. My hands went from scratching his back, to tryna grip his chest, abs, and even his arms. But even his strong biceps weren't enough for me, my head turned side to side, unsure on what to do with so much pleasure. One hand slid down my face while the other gripped ahold of my hair, grabbing and pulling a handful at the feeling whirling in my toes. His light chuckle could be heard faintly but the wave of heat that rushed my body, seemed to cloud all my senses as I felt myself nearing my peak. Just a few more strokes and I'd be there. "Yo ass bout to cum ain't chu?" I nodded feverishly, letting my body relax so my orgasm could take over. "Fuck you grippin' my shit" "Ahhhh-" My eyes closed, his left hand gripped my neck giving a light squeeze, taking away all sound as he showed no mercy against my pussy. Within seconds I was cumming.. Cumming hard on his shaft. His hand left my neck, now rubbing back and forth against my clit as I squirted my release with him continuing to fuck me through my orgasm. "Yeaaa there it go, baby. Give me some more" His hips kept going, "no-no I can't" He ignored my panting, ignored the pushing of my hands, and when I tried scooting away he only picked me up and did the honors of slamming my body up and down his pole. "Mmhm, you gone do it again?" "I can't" "Oh?" There it was again, that questioning tone from before. "Guess imma have to-" He laid my body back down on his desk, only this time a little further back giving him space to climb up on it with me. "-show you I run this shit" As soon as the words left his mouth, his hands gripped my legs and once again spread them wide before he pushed back inside and picked up the same hypnotic stroke as before. "Got dammit!" "You gone give it to me again?" "I-" my mouth closed, unsure of what to say. Clearly no wasn't what he wanted to hear. "Shit girl" I moaned, hearing him broadcast how good it felt to him. His hand went to my neck, applying the perfect amount of pressure sending me toppling over the edge again with my juices squirting out of me. "Look at that shit, got a nigga soaked-ahhhh" My muscles contracted around him, involuntarily, at the low groan that escaped his mouth. "Fuuuuuck, ahhhh-" my body jerked up and down the smooth surface of his desk as he pumped rapidly against my core. His panting mixed with the sound of our bodies connecting was the only sound heard, my jaw dropped being literally fucked into silence by the handsome figure before me. "A nigga bout to-mm" My eyes shot down between us witnessing his semen shoot out onto my stomach, leaving a trail down to my thighs just as my fluids landed against his desk and I'm sure onto the floor. He kept his head hung low, his hands planted on either side of my face as he hovered over me. Even with my body still jerking beneath his, I could feel the weight of his thick member resting against the lower part of my stomach, just as I could feel the soft kisses he placed across my collar bone. We laid that way for a few more minutes before he slowly moved away from me. I took a moment to sit up, taking my time to slide off the desk with his assistance. "I uhh, got a bathroom right over there-" his hand pointed to the right, "-got some towels in there if you want to freshen up." I nodded my appreciation before moving around him to gather my belongings then headed to the bathroom to take him up on his offer. This stranger had entered my life and made me break a rule I'd created for myself and now stand in front of a mirror, his mirror, and judge myself for what had just taken place a mere five steps away from where I stood. "Look at you," I sighed, giving myself another glance after redressing, turning side to side to fully examine my being. "Turn up wit' a fuckin' thottie, huh Jus" Three quick taps on the door had me whipping my head around. "Yeah?" "You aight in there?" Hearing his voice on the other side, I bit my lip while moving to open the door, giving myself a final few seconds of solitude to prepare. I watched his eyes travel my body, the right side of his face lifting slightly into a smirk as his orbs landed on mines causing me to shift my weight onto my left leg. "I'm good" His brow rose in what I assumed amusement since he now smiled as he took a step closer, putting him directly in front of me with no space between us. "I know you good baby, but say-" He paused, glancing behind him and towards the door before looking back at me. "I gotta get back out there, what's ya name baby?" "Justice" "Justice," he repeated, nodding his head as if he approved. "Sexy ass Justice, I'll make sure you're taken care of but if any problems just let me know, coo'?" Up and down my head went, letting him know I understood. My cheeks heated at the feel of his finger rubbing smoothly amongst my cheek, no chance to hide the blush he produced. "Wait-" I called out as he opened the door. "What's your name?" He smiled, taking his time to respond. "Giovaughni, but call me Gio. Welcome to my club baby" My eyes shot to his, not believing I'd just slept with the owner. But seeing him wink before he turned and opened the door wider, I could see just how serious he was. "Come on, let's go" Slowly, I nodded, making my way towards him and soon out of the door. The sound of the music coming from the end of the hall was much louder on this side of the door, hopefully it was enough to drown out my judgmental thoughts along with a few drinks. Before I could escape the dark hall, I felt someone grab ahold of my hand causing me to turn and face whoever it was. "Biiiiitch, the fuck you go?" My jaw dropped once my eyes connected with my sister's, how could I forget about her? "I need-" my eyes traveled behind her at the tall figure approaching. He was already looking at me, smiling as if he knew something, which I'm sure that something was him adjusting my insides like he didn't have a business to run. He winked at me again, causing me to release a breath I didn't realize I was holding. My eyes followed him until I couldn't see him anymore, only bringing brought back to what was around me by the feel of my sister grabbing my hand again. "Justice!" "Huh?" "You said you need something" I glanced behind me, wanting just one final look of the man who called himself Gio but he was long gone. "J-" "Drink, I need a drink. Now!" The look she gave me was a curious one, I'm sure there'd be questions later but for now, I just needed music and drinks. Anything to take my mind off of what had just happened, if not, there would be another meeting taking place behind that steel door of his...

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flushthethrone · 3 years ago

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@jondoeatl @cappuccinomeeks Talk Break Inst - "Bed-Stuy Heat" - Stan Da Man "Wave Gods" - Nas ft. ASAP Rocky & DJ Premier (prod. Hit Boy) "Return Of The Asiatic" - BambuDeAsiatic ft.. Supastition (prod. Supastition) "Still Growing" - 1773 x E Brown "Glory Us" - Defari "Checks and Balances" - Mazzi & Jahlil Beats ft. Nino Bless & Fashawn "Bounce" - Team Demo ft. Tha Liks & Kurious "Big Top Clown Circus" - Jake Palumbo ft. Craig G & DJ Dainja "Hot Sauce" - Krohme ft. Copywrite & Bobby J from Rockaway Talk Break Inst - "Coney Island Heat" - Stan Da Man "GulfClap" - The Custodian of Records & Light The Emcee "Makin' Moves" - The Good People "Oceans 11" - Chubs X Fastlife (prod. Eitan Noyze) "Teflon Tactics" - Mickey Diamond "Ain't No Love" - Cortez ft. Inspectah Deck & Doza The Drum Dealer "FUPA" - Illa Ghee "Streets Is Watching, So Iz God" - Estee Nack Talk Break Inst - "Bushwick Heat" - Stan Da Man "Never Say It To Us (Remix)" - Casual & Dead Perry ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE ** "Dope Dealer Kingpin Wheels" - East Hampton Polo Boys ft. Lord Juco ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE ** "Table For 3" - Che Noir ft. 38 Spesh & Ransom "Callin' Me Wilt" - Terror Van Poo (prod. Vinny Idol) "Third Eye" - Daniel Son & Futurewave ft. Flee Lord "Purple Ants" Hubbs - (prod. M Germ) "Let's Talk About It" - Nowaah The Flood x D-Styles ft. K.Burns "Real1" - Al Divino Talk Break Inst - "Fort Greene Heat" - Stan Da Man (at Marietta, Atlanta, GA) https://www.instagram.com/south_memphis_meeks/p/CYmhJoOLD-L/?utm_medium=tumblr

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terencehawkins · 4 years ago

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STONE COMMUTATION, PORTLAND: THINGS ARE GOING WEIMAR

The recent commutation of Roger Stones’ s sentence triggered the usual fruitless speculation about the “strategy” behind it. Generally, the current incumbent of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue is no more capable of thinking beyond today than an Adderall-crazed lab rat desperate for another food pellet. But there is something behind this, and it’s not what the commentariat generally thinks.

LOYALTY? HA!

The immediate, and most obvious, explanation for this politically risky move was that Trump was paying back his loyal consigliere for years of service and, more importantly, keeping his pie-hole shut. Nonsense. On the first point, Trump is famously incapable of loyalty, gratitude, or any other emotion that doesn’t result in cash or an erection. As to the second, Paul Manafort was similarly laconic, yet remains in Federal custody, albeit now on home release.

Hmm. Why the distiction?

THE DIRTY TRICKSTER

Roger Stone has built his latter-day career as a self-professed “dirty trickster.” One stops for a moment to ask why he says so out loud—do spies put “spy” on their business cards?

But leave that aside. Let’s turn for a moment to Stone’s arc. He started out in politics as a Nixon campaign intern—he famously has Tricky Dick tattooed on his back, which no doubt would have proven a point of interest, if not a spooge target, in the showers had he actually begun his sentence—where he carried out some amusing low-grade antics in Nixon’s service. He parlayed that into a career as a K Street lobbyist in the 80’s, where his partner was—what? Paul Manafort. Despite the appeal of these nesting Ukrainian dolls, let’s take a look at the irrelevant, albeit extremely entertaining, interruption in his political career.

in 1996, Stone was a consultant with GOP Senator Robert Dole’s Presidential campaign. That hit a tabloid wall when it was discovered that Stone and his second wife had taken out space in a swingers’ magazine looking for an “exceptional well hung in shape men” for threesomes.

To be clear, Stone was advertising for men to fuck his wife while he watched. While Trump’s GOP may be cool with that, Dole’s wasn’t. Despite frantic deployment of the Trumpian tactic of blame-shifting—Stone claimed that the usual “disgruntled employee” with a “drug problem” had somehow coopered all this up—-his conservative political career appeared to be done. (He finally admitted the truth in 2008.)

Despite his ouster from mainstream politics, Stone’s public malice continued unabated. For example, he organized the celebrated Brooks Brothers Riot that disprupted the 2000 Florida recounts; has been accused of forging the 2004 Killian Memos that called into question W’s military service but, when proved fake, ended Dan Rather’s career; and was involved in the prostitution scandal that ended the political life of New York Governor Elliot Spitzer. And all the while cultivating a public persona as Best Dressed Man of 1939.

GET ME ROGER STONE

Stone’s bizarre and squalid career was famously documented in a 2016 Netflix film, “Get Me Roger Stone.” The burden of the title was, in part, that Stone wanted to be the guy you called when things were totally sideways and the only way out was to stick some dead male escorts in your opponent’s bed. A man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for, right?

And that—in part, maybe—is what the commutation signifies. Or so argued GMRS producer Dylan Blank in a recent NYT op-ed.

See, even though he rages and kicks at his campaign staff like Henry VIII in a neurosyphilis seizure, whatever rational part is left of Trump’s brain recognizes that he is in very deep electoral shit. Which shit exposes him not only to the ultimate narcissistic injury of a landslide loss, but worse, the existential threat of post-Presidential prosecution for himself and his family. He just can’t afford to lose. Thus he reasons that in order to prevail in this battle of all against all, he needs the help of the dirtiest dirty trickster he can get—Roger Stone.

Hence the commutation. Trump needs Stone’s help.

But is that all?

BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE: THE PROUD BOYS

Trump’s reliance on this Homburged freak may be based on something else as well. Since 2016 Stone has cultivated an association with the Proud Boys, a ”Western Chauvinist”—i.e, white nationalist Islamophobe fascist—network of street fighters founded by Gavin McInnes, who in a move whose reasons defy inquiry, sought to refute claims of homophobia by sticking a dildo up his ass in a TV interview. (Click here for images you will not be able to unsee.) The Boys’ initiation includes getting the shit beaten out of them while reciting pop culture trivia and taking a pledge to limit masturbation to once a month—particularly burdensome in view of the rudimentary social lives of most alt.right bros. In addition to these entertainments, the Proud Boys have engaged in a lengthy campaign of public violence and intimidation, including an appearance with their fellow very fine people at Charlottesville in 2017.

Stone’s engagement with the Boys is not merely casual. He is, in fact, an affiliate member, having sworn the Boys’ oath not to apologize for creating modern civilization. (I am not making this up.) In return for the sheen of “respectability” Stone has lent them, the Boys have served as bodyguards, escorting him to and from his frequent judicial hearings and proclaiming his innocence from the courthouse steps. In chorus.

Is it a coincidence that Trump sprang a right wing thug with a following of street-fighting fascists? Incidentally, note the fellow on Stone’s left, in the buttoned-up polo? That black-and-gold shirt is the PB’s unofficial uniform.

CONNECTING THE DOTS

So let’s see. We’ve ruled out gratitude or loyalty as motives for the commutation. What does Trump need from Roger Stone that he can’t get someplace else? His expertise in the political black arts doesn’t pass muster—he’s not the only asshole in Washington, or these days, nor even the biggest. And let’s not forget that Trump is more than willing to recruit aid from shithole countries happy to remake America in their own image. So no, there’s nothing about Stone’s skill set that makes him indispensable. So what does he bring to the table that Trump wants?

Just this weekend, Trump tipped his hand. Deploying masked, anonymous federal troops in unmarked vans to Portland, with the blessing of his lovable roly-poly Interior Minister Barr—who’d previously okayed the use of tear gas against peaceful protesters so Trump could waddle across the street for a photo op— was the warmup for his election day ace in the hole: full on street violence. Weimar style.

Voter suppression has been the centerpiece of GOP election strategy for decades. It’s unavoidable—as "The Wire’s Baltimore mayoral candidate Tommy Carcetti noted, his hopes were slim because “I wake up white in a city that ain’t.” A party of old white men in an increasingly brown country faces an obvious, existential challenge. One it will ultimately lose, of course, but until then, it can eke out a few more good cycles, with their resultant Federalist Society judges, regulatory rollbacks, and hedge funder tax cuts. But only by making damn sure that minorities don’t vote. Especially in swing states.

Previously, the GOP had played what now seems like softball—gerrymandering, closing polling stations in minority districts, sowing confusion as to the election date. But that won’t work this time. Trump’s response to plague and racial crisis and his plummeting polls has thus far been to flounder and howl like a manatee chopped up in the prop. But in the clutch, unconstrained by any respect for norms, terrified by the prospect of post-presidential prosecution, he’s going to toss the GOP playbook and move with the Nazi.

The Brownshirts, or SA, were Hitler’s paramilitary before his 1933 seizure of power. They were beerhall bullies whose job was “security,” ostensibly protected the Nazi leadership at their public events, in reality intimidating its leftist opponents. It played a critical role in the elections of 1928, 1930, and 1932, showing up at the polls to fight Communist supporters and blocking access to voters in left-leaning districts. And of course, after Hitler was securely Fuhrer, they were the principal executors of the Kristallnacht pogrom.

So here’s what’s going to happen. On Election Day, in urban polling places in swing states, Proud Boys are going to show up as “pollwatchers.” And as soon as black and brown people start showing up in numbers, they’re going to start kicking ass. It doesn’t have to happen a lot. It doesn’t have to happen everywhere. But it will do a lot of damage to turnout. And the thing about Election Day is that it’s just one day, and no do-overs, full stop. So whatever damage is done can’t be undone, ever. So a second term secured by street violence can be reversed only by impeachment. And we know how that went.

Think it can’t happen? See below. Especially the last line: “You still think you can control them?”

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celebritylive · 5 years ago

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If you think about the Olympics as a book — millennia long, depending on how you count, with just as many triumphs and tragedies and medals — then last week was the start of the next chapter.

Or, to torture the metaphor just a little bit more: 110 hopeful athletes gathered in Los Angeles to write the first pages of what will become the 2020 Tokyo Games.

Across five days and more than three times as many stages in a production facility in L.A., dozens of America’s best gymnasts and runners and swimmers and surfers and wrestlers (and more) gathered to help promote the Summer Olympics in an event organized by NBC and Team USA.

“I still find it fun,” says Nathan Adrian, a five-time gold medalist in swimming who survived a testicular cancer diagnosis last year. “I still feel very blessed to wake up, go to a place, do the sport that I love and then also be surrounded by like people that also enjoy the sport and people that I enjoy.

PEOPLE was behind the scenes with Adrian and all the others for the week, to see the photo shoots and the props and the puppies (yes, puppies) as the athletes came and went in a brief break from their preparation. They’re as tall or as small and mighty as one might imagine — no TV screen can do them justice — and unfailingly game to talk about the sports that unite them.

“When you grow up and you’re dreaming, you’re dreaming about the first time,” says swimmer Ryan Murphy, a three-time gold medalist at the Rio Games in 2016 who is pushing to return to Tokyo.

Fellow swimmer Lilly King, another gold medalist in Rio who went viral in a face-off with her Russian rival, tells PEOPLE: “Before the Olympics, I was a completely different person. I literally went from nobody knowing my name to overnight fame.”

Not many others know the feeling — except the other athletes in L.A. Among them were Simone Biles, Megan Rapinoe and Ryan Lochte, all returning Olympic champions who’ve had headline-making years since Rio.

“I feel like a veteran, I feel like the mom of the group,” says Biles, 22. After earning five medals in gymnastics at the 2016 Games (in a performance that landed her on the cover of PEOPLE), she’s set to compete in Tokyo with at least some new teammates.

“I’ve only known her for a couple of years, but it’s been amazing being with her because she does know so much already, because she’s had so much experience,” 17-year-old gymnast Grace McCallum says of Biles. “And so she really guides you and shows you the way.”

What does Biles teach best? The other gymnasts agree: how to do hair and makeup.

Rapinoe, like Biles, is eyeing more Olympic gold after a triumphant World Cup appearance last summer co-captaining the American women’s soccer team. She has been no less bold off the field, speaking up for equal pay for women and speaking out against President Donald Trump. (“There are children locked up at the border who are dying, and that’s not fazing him,” she said in July. “So why would I faze him?”)

Speaking with PEOPLE, Rapinoe, 34, shares this advice for boys and girls who want to become change-makers, too:

“There’s a lot of options for little boys, they probably don’t need any advice. They have all the options readily available to them in culture. But I think for girls, I would just say to not limit yourself to anything. Dream way past beyond what we’re doing right now.”

“I think if we’ve done our jobs, then we’ve given them a much bigger palette to choose from,” Rapinoe says, “and hopefully they can just dream beyond anything that we’re doing.”

One of the world’s most-watched events, the Olympics put billions’ of people’s attention on athletes whose success they may never have even thought was possible.

“My body has taught me that you’re capable of so much more than you think you can be,” says Melissa Stockwell, a Paralympic bronze medalist in triathlete who lost a leg in a roadside bombing while serving in the Army in Iraq.

“I think a lot of people are scared to do things because they’re like, ‘No, I can never do that,’ ” Stockwell says. “But in reality, if you just try something, you’re amazed at what you can do.”

Ashleigh Johnson, a 2016 Olympic gold medalist water polo goalie, is one of the rare black competitors in her sport. “It’s part of my mission now to be that representative and be like, ‘It’s possible. You deserve to be here. You belong here,’ ” she tells PEOPLE.

“We’re competitors,” says David Brown, the world’s fastest blind athlete and a Paralympic gold medalist, who competes with a guide. “We’re out there to represent our country. We’re athletes with disabilities and we’re just as competitive as Olympic athletes.”

Six-time gold medalist Allyson Felix intends to return to the Olympics, this time as a mother, having broken Usain Bolt’s record for the most World Championship gold medals less than a year after an emergency cesarean section.

“I feel super blessed in this sport and I just want to embrace every moment knowing that this is my last time around,” Felix, 34, says. “I want to savor it. I want to step out there and represent women and mothers.”

Others, like Lochte, are looking for “redemption.” Already a swimming legend after his wins in the 2004, 2008, 2012 and 2016 Games, Lochte’s career was derailed following a scandal spun out from a claim he made about being robbed at gunpoint while in Brazil. (He has repeatedly apologized.) He was also temporarily banned from competition for violating a rule about the amount of infusions athletes can receive, even though the substance was not illegal.

Still, he hasn’t stopped training. And he has a new reason to compete after welcoming son Caiden in 2017 and daughter Liv in June.

“I just have a different drive than I ever had before,” he says.

“If I make the Olympic team and everything, this will be one of the biggest comeback stories in sports, just because of everything that has happened with me the past couple of years,” he tells PEOPLE.

More than a decade older than some of his possible teammates, Lochte looks at Tokyo as one more shot as an athlete.

So does beach volleyball icon Kerri Walsh Jennings, who last didn’t earn an Olympic medal nearly two decades ago. Her story isn’t over either.

“It’s a chapter ending. A big one. It’s a book-end in my Olympic competitive career and it’ll be my last one regardless,” she says. “And I’m so excited. I committed to Tokyo because I want to finish on top.”

To learn more, visit teamusa.org. The Tokyo Olympics begin next summer on NBC.

• With reporting by KAREN MIZOGUCHI

from PEOPLE.com https://ift.tt/2KVp1e9

#Celebrity

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regretsdelusionstoughluck · 6 years ago

Text

PART 5

FRIDAY EVENING: 4:15 PM

An hour after Oliver left work, he briefly passed by his apartment, washed some dishes and folded some clothes before heading out. He finished off the remainder of a bottle of sangria in his refrigerator before following the alcohol up with a two glasses of water. He sat on the sofa for about an hour before he headed out the door. He printed the directions off of Google reviewing them for about 10 minutes and drove off. He stopped at a nearby Publix and purchased a bottle of Arbor Mist and some small plastic cups before completing the trip. The drive was approximately 50 minutes with traffic. Oliver’s state of being could be described as a nervous, beginning to experience stomach cramps upon arriving to the apartment complex. When he got to the door, he shot Evandro a text before knocking. Evandro, who was still in his uniform was in the process of fixing a snack when he walked to the door.

“Ollie?”

“Yep” Oliver responded nervously. Holding the bag of wine.

“Come on in”.

[”Ollie”? The last person to call me that was Damon. And before him, it was my high school sweet hart. Of course, she’s now a single mom with four kids and not a baby daddy in site. I see you]

After a long embrace, Evandro asked him what was in the bag.

“Well sit down!” Evandro said, “Let’s have a drink”

“Sure thing, and FYI, whatever we don’t finish today, it’s yours to keep”

“Thanks man”

As Evandro put the crushed the ice up on the counter, Oliver sat at the table. “So man, nice place so far”

“Thanks, considering the circumstances, I’d call it a blessing” After pouring some of the blackberry Arbor Mist, Evandro began the conversation.

Finishing half a bottle of wine, they switched the conversation to general things, such as the TV system in the living room.

“We’ve nearly finished a bottle of wine” Evandro said “You might wanna hang here for a bit, let the alcohol simmer”

“Not a bad idea” Oliver responded.

They caught up with “The Resident”, watching that last two episodes before Evandro walked him out.

“Get home safe”, Evandro said as he watched Oliver get in his truck and exit the complex. Oliver had a smooth trip home, w/o encountering any traffic jams. He stopped by Subway and picked up a sandwich, eating in his vehicle before arriving at his apartment. He threw his empty bag in the dumpster before unlocking his door. Noticing a very unpleasant odor in the apartment, he looked around to see what had spoiled. He saw nothing in his refrigerator that would have gone bad. He concluded that it must have been his neighbor.

“Nasty fucking people” he said under his breath. He turned on the fans in addition to spraying air freshener in his home.

[So yeah, I have a client to see tomorrow for an overnight stay. I rarely bring client’s to my place and in the even that I do, I give them a 50% discount as this is awful. I have an overnight hotel stay. Shit like this is why, they don’t come. That and the fact that this is a dangerous job. My neighbor is what we call one of those hippie types. Doesn’t believe in using soap to shower, he has animals that he really isn’t supposed to have, and he doesn’t clean up after them. It’s like those folks, who bring their animals to restaurants and let them shit where people are sitting, and then when people call them on it, we have a new “discrimination” case.]

He left his home and stayed out for another hour or so, hoping to give the fans some time to eliminate the scent out of his apartment.

Coming back to the apartment, he noticed the temperature in his home had gone down, however the stench was as strong as ever, as he was walking in, a neighbor informed him that there were rats caught in some of the vents.

“I’m getting out of this lease, I’m packing my shit and I’m moving out!, I’ll stay with mom for a bit until I can find another place. I can’t do it anymore!” He ranted.

[It’s almost worth just leaving the door open, not like I got shit worth taking]

He called Damon, in the heat of the moment to see if he could crash.

The plan was that Oliver would pack his clothes tonight as he’d be staying at a hotel Saturday anyway. From there, he’d move in with his mother. He packed his clothes for the night and locked the door behind him and headed to Damon’s place. Where he slept.

The following morning, the pair had breakfast at a local diner where Oliver disclosed more about the plan. He would stay the night as he did at Damon’s. From there, he’d pack his laptop. Going by his apartment he’d pack items such as his television and his other electronics. He’d meet his mother somewhere and have these items descreetly shifted. He would then put his furniture in storage.

“Well damn” Damon said. Oliver wasn’t going to be at his apartment much anyway this Saturday as he had an overnight appointment. Conversation was interrupted by the waitress

After Clara left to fetch their drinks, they resumed the conversation regarding his Oliver’s situation. “I’m going to pay to penalty man” Oliver said.

“I don’t blame you” Damon responded. “You’ve been having problems at that apartment for years. That son of a bitch needs to be burned down.”

Oliver laughed while looking at his phone. “You crazy”

“I know”

Clara returned with their drinks. “OJ here and water here. I bought you some extra lemons for your water”

“Thanks!” Oliver exclaimed

“No problem, your food should be out in a little bit. Let me know if you need anything else”

Oliver knew the place was a dump. “My neighbor is nasty AF”

[That’s the problem with apartments. One unit has roaches, everyone one else does.]

“That’s why I got a house. Apartments are the worst. Shit like that is why you can’t eat everybody’s cooking and you can’t invite everybody to the potluck.”

“And you can’t go to everybody else’s potluck either”

Oliver felt trapped. He would hold back rent payments but he’d have to pay that back. It was like a nightmare one couldn’t wake up from. The furniture was inexpensive so he didn’t mind leaving it a while longer. His complex was disgusting. Think “Infested!” On animal planet with the Ottawa, Canada apartment. After breakfast, he planned to obtain the remainder of his valuables.

“Yo, you mind if I stop at the gas station on the way back to the house?”

“Not at all, got a while before checking in to my hotel anyway”

“Hotel? Oh shit!”

They eventually finished breakfast. Cleaning their plates and getting the checks.

“The gentleman in the khaki shorts agreed to cover your bill.” Clara said much to Oliver’s surprise.

“Well let me get my friends bill”

“Thanks......” Damon said

“No big, Mom said when someone blessed you you bless others and that’s what happened to me today”

“Well, I got the alcohol this evening. There’s this joint in Miami Beach that has all the good shit at low prices if we’re talking alcoholic pricing. The clerk Raja, let’s just say, I got the hookup.”

“So you throwing the next party?”

At the store, he picked up a Pinot Grigio, a bottle of Blue Curaçao, and some Hypnotic.

“What else you want man?”

“Ummm I guess some pineapple juice for the curaçao. Make a good blue Hawaii”

At the register Raja noticed items “Somebody is about to get wasted.”

“You already know, but I’m a smart guy, home only”. They left and went Oliver’s apartment, to check on the status. He stood there momentarily and thought to himself He’d come back and pack up his items after his “date” with the client.

[My client is already paying an arm and a leg to have his way with me. At the least, I’ll put up the hotel fees. Some may do otherwise, but it’s a one night stay and I figure I’ll get it back.]

The pair went back home to drink, when Damon asked him if he ever tried weed?

“No way! If I were too, I wouldn’t smoke that shit in here in the states.”

[Unless it’s in Colorado.]

As the afternoon passed, Oliver left to check into his hotel and put his things in his hotel room. He decided that he’d take a swim and then took a short nap before getting ready. The date would include a dinner, have a cocktail, followed by making out. After showering and douching, he put on a pair of brown khaki pants and a cream colored polo that he sported with a navy sports coat. He brushed his hair and then headed down to the hotel bar where he had a beer.He got a text from his client saying that he was on his way.

[Oh joy. Another date with a self-entitled corporate goon.]

He responded by informing the client that he was at the hotel bar and that he could locate him by his outfit. Cody is a man in his mid 30s, he’s an accountant at a firm downtown. Height wise, he’s about 6′6′ with a slender build.

[He’s probably married and I’d be willing to bet that they don’t have an open relationship. If you get my drift.]

He escorted Oliver to his car,

“Nice ride” Oliver said.

“Thanks”

They arrived at a fine dining establishment with a dinner reservation for 7:00pm. Oliver ordered Lobster while his client ordered duck.

They talked about the job market, ethical issues, etc while waiting on their meals and as they ate their meals. Cody surprisingly made for good conversation and wasn’t full of himself much to Oliver’s surprise.

[White guy, far left type of kat. Works in corporate american but actually gives a damn. Yeah, he’s a keeper.]

Cody grew up in a rather liberal household southeast standards. He came out to his parents at 15, he had a long term relationship that last about three years. After that breakup, he has been happily single but likes to have fun. They returned to the hotel where they ended their night. Oliver suggested that they chill in the hot tub on the 5th floor initially. “Gotta get out of these clothes first” Cody said.

“Fair enough” Oliver said as they entered the elevator.

Upon entrance of the hotel room, he pointed Cody to the bathroom. “Alright I’ll see you in a bit”.

TO BE CONTINUED WITH PART 6

STORY SYNOPSIS

CHARACTERS

#drama #lgbt #fan-fiction #fiction #tumblr fiction #ethnic diversity #sex industry #adult entertainment

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