#terry hall rip

[kym-vampire47]

I’m not always much of a cryer but honestly, I’m close to tears here…may they rest peacefully

[subtlesolitude-tailoredtaste]

🤍🖤

Syd Shelton     Terry Hall and Neville Staples of “The Specials,” Rock Against Racism Gig, Leeds     1981     1979

[keyaho]

.summary: terry and blaire are in shambles while aaron and brennan make things more official. .word count: 6k+ .co-writter: @zillasvilla

Blaire stood in front of her vanity toying with the zipper on her dress. The white dress was covered in red and blue flowers. She accented it with red jewelry and heels. Even Noah’s outfit for Sunday service matched. A red button up polo shirt and tan slacks. She had blown her hair out, the kinky texture creating volume. One side was pinned back in a twist. 

As she was getting dressed, Noah’s father, Terry, was getting him ready. He had brought over his clippers and it was his first big boy haircut. For the past seven years she kept Noah’s hair braided and she’d miss the way he fell asleep in her lap while she did his hair. He was already asking to spend more and more time with his Dad. 

Another frustrated grunt fell from her glossed lips as she tried pulling up the zipper, but once again, it caught on the inner fabric. She rolled her eyes and held the dress as she walked down the hall towards Noah’s room. Blaire could hear them talking and she called out to them as she came into their line of sight. 

Terry wasn’t dressed. His slacks were on and so were his shoes, but he was shirtless, holding their son’s head still as he lined up the back. Blaire looked at the sink. Her son’s curls in a dark brown pile. She turned around, the tears forming in her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to cry over his first hair cut, but seeing his hair gone sent her over the edge. 

Noah looked at his Dad after seeing his Mom walk back to her room. He knew she was going to cry over his hair. 

“Mommy cries a lot,’ Noah says. 

Terry stopped cutting and straightened up. “What do you mean?” 

”She cries a lot?” Noah wasn’t sure what else to say. “Sometimes I can hear her in her room.” He shrugged.  

Terry finished up Noah’s haircut and sent him to the kitchen for breakfast. Terry walked down the hall towards the main bedroom, where he used to lay his head. The door was cracked and he looked in to see Blaire trying to tug the zipper on her dress. Every now and then she’d sniffle; a sign she had been crying. He pushed open the door and slowly walked in. It was still decorated the same, earth tones. There was more green though he noticed. The wall behind her bed was painted in a rich emerald. The four poster bed was draped in green and brown sheets. There was a thick white comforter on top and tucked in between the pillows was a Lambchop puppet she had since she was a kid. It never left their bedroom. Her. Her bedroom. 

“You’re going to rip it,’ Terry whispers, coming up behind her to still her hands. She avoided his gaze as he looked at her in the mirror. “Blaire,’

"Not, now, Terry.” 

He placed one hand on her hip while the other zipped the dress easily. She moved to step away but he stopped her. His hands pulling her hips backwards. 

“Just listen to me, please,’ he asked. When she didn’t move he came to stand in front of her, his hands still holding her. 

There were moments when she trusted him enough to touch her, because he was quick to drop those hands where they shouldn’t be. However, when he wanted to be serious they stayed on her hips. He needed physical contact.  

“I miss my wife.” 

This had been the longest they went without being under the same roof. Yeah he was kicked to the couch a few times, or the guest room, but when she asked him to leave the house he knew he had fucked up royally. It’s been almost a year of him renting an apartment because she didn’t want him in the house. Not while he was still entertaining Summer from Rebel Ridge. And it was never like that. Blaire knew about his issue down there and what happened to Summer. She was a recovering drug user and he felt like he had to keep an eye on her. So much that it came between him and Blaire. 

“You haven’t divorced me and I think that’s because you miss me too.” 

Terry read her face and could see the truth in her eyes. He hadn’t been the only one to notice how they started to gravitate towards each other again. It wasn’t awkward at family dinners or when they had to sit beside each other. In fact, he had been able to rest his hand on her thigh. He remembered her curling her hand around his while she ate. Those moments of tenderness he missed. 

She hadn’t worn her wedding ring in months. Her hand felt light and odd without it. He still wore his. It hurt him a little to know he had upset her to that point, but she never explained how she was feeling so he was in the dark on what he himself had done. He apologized over and over to her, but he didn’t know what was holding her away from him. 

“Noah,’ she begins, shifting the focus to their son as she always did. 

“I’m talking about you. Noah is good. You’re not.” 

Blaire scoffs. “What are you talking about?” 

Terry got closer and her hands fell on his thick biceps. She could still feel the heat from his body and the bare skin was smooth to the touch, like it always was. He smelled good. He always smelled good. Blaire found herself relaxing in his arms, his scent, and the feel of his thick body against hers. He smelled like oak and pine, the outdoors, and something smokey. It was like smelling the earth after it rained. Terry knew just what to do to get her guard down. She let him do it every time. His hands rubbed her sides, pulling her back from the brink of crying again. She was such a crybaby. 

“There’s my girl,’ he coos. “Tell me why you’ve been crying.” 

“You need….,’ she stuttered, ‘you need to put on a shirt.” 

He let her go with a smile, but grabbed her hand as he was walking away. She followed him to the guest room and he made her sit on the bed while he finished getting ready. They could hear the tv going and knew Noah was waiting for them. As he did every Sunday. 

Terry was up to one night a weekend and he always picked Sunday night to stay over. It allowed him to see Noah off to school at the start of the week and he felt Sunday’s gave him more time with Blaire. 

“Why are you sitting there like that,’ he asked, frowning as she picked at the hem of her dress. 

She looked up and shrugged. “Because whenever you sat me on the bed you were scolding me for something. Acting like my damn daddy,’ she mumbled. 

Terry had been over protective since the day they met. He walked on the side of street when they were out, he opened her doors, held her hand when she wore heels because he knew she got tired, his jacket was hers while he was drenched in the rain, the list went on and on. Terry was what social media called a ‘traditional man’ or ‘masculine’ by their gendered stereotypes. Full on Daddy kink with him and he took it seriously. Despite all that, and despite her own independence, she liked that he made her feel helpless, she just hated when that turned into hopelessness. 

Blaire could go get all the jars in the kitchen and he’d stand there and open them for her, but she couldn’t tell him how much he had actually hurt her seven years ago. 

“Don’t leave out how much of a brat you can be.” He tsks. 

Blaire watched him pull a blue shirt from the closet, the material was stretchy but if it was the shirt she bought him, then it wasn’t going to stretch much. That shirt was sized perfectly. He slipped his arms into it with his back to her. She watched him tuck the shirt in and add a belt. 

Terry was rough around the edges. Always had been. He played football in high school, went to the Marines right after, she knows he does a few classes at the YMCA for boxing and still keeps up with his jiu jitsu training. When he wasn’t at those places he was hauling concrete slabs and shit with her father. He was blue collar through and through and at one point him coming home was the highlight of her day. She didn’t mind working and coming home to cook for him. He made her feel safe enough to do it. He never took advantage of it and when he would come home to her having forgot or was behind he’d step in and do it. 

Terry was damn near perfect. Except he was so damn helping. His morality being his vice. He would stretch himself thin trying to help and it would push her away. 

“I can’t begin to fix what I broke if you won’t tell me, dushi.”

“We don’t have time before Church to talk about this.” Blaire stood up and headed for the door. 

Terry would normally let her go, to not stir up another fight, but he was tired of her running. In a few strides he was in front of her, closing the door. 

“You can’t keep running from this Blaire.” 

“I’m not running.” 

Terry rolled his eyes. “We’re going to have this talk tonight. Or,’ he sighed. 

Blaire leaned back from him, crossing her arms at this point. “Or what?” 

“I’m done. No matter how much I miss you, if we can’t clear this up, I’m done.”  

The light from beneath their door shined through the cracks and her soft humming filled his ears. Aaron groans while stretching out his legs and swinging them over the bed. The morning sun was starting to peek through the windows as he squinted. He could feel when she wasn’t in bed, her side having been cold for a while. He reached for his glasses, the thin frames sitting on his nose as he stood up and stretched.

He sifted through large brown moving boxes–some of them labeled as clothes or shoes. They had yet to finish unpacking, living out of boxes in the shared bedroom. He and Brennan had been together for three years before finally moving in together. He finds what he needs in one of the smaller boxes, while picking his phone up. He checked his messages while peeking through the small crack of the bathroom. Her rich complexion shines in the mirror. Brennan’s hands were working the small black flat iron over a small section of hair.

Aaron: Come do Bre’s hair in two hours Nique: It's 4 in the morning. You're not about to sweat out her hair. Aaron: I will pay you. Nique: Text me a time.

Aaron shakes his head while putting his glasses back on the dresser. Her soft humming gets louder as he walks in the bathroom. Her eyes found him through the mirror.

“Gud mɔnin, ɔni”. 

Aaron’s morning voice was something Brennan had to get used to. It was deeper, raspier, and certain words just came out in that thick Krio accent that he husked in ear on the nights she used to stay in his town home.. Aaron’s lips leaned over to kiss her cheek. Brennan relaxes against him as his arms circled around her waist. This was their first Sunday morning together. They were used to parting ways the night before or she was already at her mom’s place. Aaron had become a nice change to her morning routine, usually sitting up with her, a book in hand while she did her morning routine–stealing quick kisses here and there. 

“What I say about talkin’ to me like that.”

Aaron only speaks in Krio when he wants to fluster her. She had learned what a few words meant.

“Oni.” Honey.

Brennan’s fingertips stroke lightly on his arms, the pads of them rubbing along the visible veins. The time on her phone reads four-thirty. Service started at 11, and she knew her momma was gonna have some words if they didn’t make it on time. She bites her lip. “Service starts at eleven, baby.”

Aaron turns his head into her neck, pressing soft gentle kisses along the length of it. “Mhm. then why are you up so early?” Her hair was already down, Nique had come over the day before and blown and pressed her hair–and here she was going over it when she didn't have to. He preferred it in its natural state, loving the way her curls bounced and framed around her face.

“You know how my hair is.” Her eyes closed at the feeling while he opened his eyes to watch her in the mirror. The curves of her body, and the swell of her breast covered in a thin silk material that stopped mid thigh. Her breast jiggled beneath the dress, he could see the outline everytime she moved. “Can’t be late for Church either.”

“We're making a baby.” Just as quick as he turned her around, he had her sitting on the sink, pushing his way between her thighs and making the nightdress bunch at the waist. His green eyes scanned over her features with a bit of his lip.

“Aaron.” She feels his fingers sneak up the material, his hands warm against her skin. She leans forward to wrap her arms around his neck.

7:30

Aaron sat up against the headboard with different hair products scattered around him as he adjusted Brennan's head in his lap. Their early morning session led to her hair getting wet in the shower. He had already texted a friend to come fix it, but decided to speed up the process by helping her blow dry and braid it. Brennan comfortably fell asleep during the process as his thick greased fingers parted and braided the last side of her head. 

He would've been done sooner but he found himself watching her sleep;  the rise and fall of her back, the way her nose and eyebrows scrunch together when she was dreaming about something. How she let out soft whines when he moved to grab some more grease into his fingers. 

Her hair soft between his fingers was braided down to the crown of her head He secured the last braid to the others with a clear rubber band.

“Didn’t I just do your hair?” Dominique asks. She had come over to fix her hair-having seen the braid down Aaron did, she sped through securing the wig for her. She spoke through the comb between her teeth. Her right hand held onto bonding spray–the left covered her eyes as she shook the can and sprayed wig glue across the wig cap. 

“A-a-ron thought it be a good idea to fuck in the shower.” Aaron in the guest room taking a shower. They had set up in the dining room–the only room set up with higher chairs. They only had an hour before they had to leave and now she was rushing to finish. 

“And you let him?” While she let Brennan’s hair air dry a little, she put up the stuff she brought, leaving out what she would need to style her hair. 

Brennan bites her lip, watching her face through the decorative mirror that she finally unpacked and made her Dad put up for her.. 

“Well this is our first morning in our first house.” Brennan was sentimental–everything always had a meaning for her and Aaron being the sappy man he was fed into that shit. The two were joined at the hip.. Dominique didn’t understand why they were hiding it. 

“Girl.” Dominique shakes her head–she has a blow dryer in hand on high heat to speed the drying process.

“What?” She bites back a smile. 

“You and him might as well be married.” She finishes, sectioning off the hair to curl the ends. “That man ain’t letting you go any time soon.” Dominique was the only one outside of her family that knew the two of them were really together–catching them both at the gas station down the street from Melanin Preparatory Academy.

Brennan stood between him and the car while he pumped gas in her car. His free hand rested on her hip as they talked–Brennan hid a smile behind the drink she was holding, whatever he was saying to her had her flustered. She had never seen Brennan so soft. 

“Kinda don’t want him to.” Brennan bites her lip.

Aaron had walked into the room fully dressed. He was simple when it came to fashion–especially when it came to church. The brown turtleneck shirt fitting loose around his frame-larger sizes gave his arms room to flex. A pair of black dark washed jeans that stacked a little at the ankles. She caught a whiff of the cologne he was wearing. Clive Christian. The wood spiced  scent made her wonder who else he was trying to smell good for. He glances at her frowning face with a chuckle.

He sets down their coffee to walk over to where she was sitting.

Dominique, having already finished the last curl, turned away to pack up her stuff. 

Aaron leans over Brennan to keep her seated in the chair. She had to tilt her head up to look at him. The smell of him was stronger than the moment before and she knew for sure it was about to linger on her. 

Their lips smack against each others in a quick, but lingering kiss.

“Fiks ya fes.” He whispers against her mouth before pulling back. 

Brennan’s mind was jumbled as he walked away. He grabbed the black mug and the caramel scent hit her nose as he sat  it on the table. Coffee–made exactly how she likes. He held his own while moving to sit in the den, the large tv playing several highlight reels and a few stack of papers and a stapler.

“Nigga-”

“You got until I'm done or we're gonna be late.” 

“I'm almost done.” Dominique curled the last few pieces of hair. Brennan was lucky she had bought a new wig. She didn’t like the length of it but knew Brennan would. “Are you dressed already?”

“Yeah, just gotta put my shoes on.”  

Brennan had already put on a black silk button up, and her own black jeans. The only thing she could get to with Aaron's clothes in the way. The closet was too small and she was really close to calling her dad to build her a new one. Brennan can feel the mist of hair spray being put on her hair, letting her know she was done. Aaron was half-way through with his task when she looked over at him. 

“You're stapling papers?”

“First day of school tomorrow and picture day.” He answers like she doesn't already know. He was the reason they were probably gonna be late. “Where's your shoes?” He looks back at her down to her pretty brown feet, toenails in a sharp white color- a small gold anklet peeking from the leg of her pants. The same one that dangled over his shoulder while he thrust–he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. If it was him they would stay home, but her mama would beat his ass if she knew he was the reason they were late. 

“I'm going to get them.” She pulls Dominique in a quick hug and thanking.

Aaron shook his head, turning around to pack up the last stack of stapled papers. He could hear hear race up the stairs and Dominique packing the last of her stuff and jiggling her keys. 

“Alright, I want my money Aaron!” Dominique rushes to the door, pointing in his direction.

She expected he would Zelle it to her until his voice echoes to her.  He had looked up just as Brennan comes around to stand in front of him. She wore a pair of black wedges that he was sure she was going to pull off in the truck.

“It’s by the front door Dominique."

She spots the bills peeking out from under the key bowl. It looked like a good four hundred.

 “Oooh! And you tipped! I see you big spender.” She grabs the money, pocketing it into her purse. “Bye girl, I’ll see you tonight.”

Once the door closed he pulled Brennan into his chest as he stood up. “You look real good.” He kisses her cheek and moves around her to grab his keys. “Let’s go before your mama beat my ass.” 

Sunday Service had been particularly short compared to the long services they were used to growing up– but they weren’t complaining. The sun beamed down on them as they exited the church. Aaron and Terry had gone to grab the car, Noah going along with them so the AC could be running before they got in. Brennan and Blaire waited for their mom to finish talking to a few friends back inside. They probably wanted her to cook for the next church potluck. 

“Thank you, again Angela.” 

“Alright, see you,” She waves at one of the other church members while coming down the steps to stand in front of her daughters with a shake of her head, she follows Brennan’s gaze to Aaron who was tossing Noah, their nephew in the air and catching him. She places a hand on her hip as Blaire completely ignores Terry looking at her.

“That was Ms. Gladys.” 

“Mhm.” Brennan hums, eyes never leaving him even as he gets in the truck.

“She said she dreamt about fishes last night. Brennan, are you pregnant?” 

“Why are we talking about this on the lord’s steps?” She looks confused trying to figure out what she’s talking about. Blaire laughs from behind her. “And why are you asking me? Blaire could be pregnant.”

“Don’t put that on me.” Blaire stops laughing and points her finger at her sister. “He’s already been bothering me to talk all week.”

”When are you going to tell him?” Brennan asks, not caught up on the latest Blaire & Terry episode. “It’s been seven years, Blaire, the man has practically groveled at your feet.” 

She knew her sister was right, but, if anything, she was scared. Not of Terry, but actually losing him. His ultimatum from this morning was heavy on her. The sudden fear of not having him at all? 

“He’s not going to wait long, Blaire,’ their mother added. 

“I know!” She hissed. Brennan and Angela looked at Blaire with wide eyes. “He told me that this morning. Either we figure it out or he’s done trying.” 

The last thing she wanted to do was tell her mother and sister what Terry had said, but pretty much everyone was on his side and they didn’t fully understand how she felt. 

“Wait,’ Angela softens her tone at Blaire’s somber expression. 

“He said what?” Brennan chimed in. “Oh he’s serious this time.” 

They quickly changed the subject when Aaron and Terry came back. Noah was already in his seat. 

“Y'all ready,’ Terry asked, his eyes on Blaire and she rubbed her arm. 

“Hell yes,’ Brennan shouts, then covers her mouth when Angela smacked her arm. “Ow, my bad!” 

Terry held out his hand as Blaire reached for the rail. She took his hand and let him guide her towards his truck. Confused, she looked over her shoulder. 

“Where are we going?” 

Terry stopped at the truck and leaned her against it. “I need to know now.” He says. 

“What? You said we would talk tonight,’ Blaire replied. 

“I don’t want to wait. I don’t want you to have time to give me some politically correct answer. I want to know now.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Do you want to stay married?” 

“Yes!” 

Blaire looked up at him. The word falling from her mouth with little hesitation made Terry feel slightly better about where this was going. 

“Do you want me back in the house?” 

She nodded. “All the time.” 

Terry was confused then. She wanted everything he wanted but she was pushing him away. 

“Then why are you so upset with me?” 

“Can we talk about this with a bit more privacy?”  

Everyone was waiting by the other car, staring in their direction. When she looked over his shoulder and waved, they all jumped- pretending they weren’t watching. 

“I don’t want to be church gossip.” 

“Come on so we can eat!” Brennan groans from the backseat of her mom’s car. “Noah, tell your parents to hurry up.” She glances at her nephew.

Noah looked to his aunt with a ‘do you think I’m dumb’ expression. 

“We’ll just see them at the house.” Angela waves them off. “And why ain’t you with Aaron, Bre?” She looks at her youngest daughter in the backseat. "Why are ya'll always I my car?"

“He said he had to talk to Daddy about something.” she shrugs, pulling off her heels. “Men things.”

“What he got to talk to him for.” Angela shakes her head. “Markus better not be at my house, Brennan.”

Marcus parked the truck in front of Angela’s house. He cuts the engine while looking over at the passenger side. Aaron had been quiet the whole ride. His leg bounced nonstop and he could see the nervous posture he had.

“You gon speak or what?”

Aaron didn’t get nervous often. He usually keeping his composure in any setting, however talking to Brennan’s dad about something so important. He just couldn’t shake the anxiety he was feeling right now. His hands were clammy as he wiped them on his jeans.

“It’s about Brennan.”

“Yeah? Something wrong?”

“No. No.” He sighs finally making eye contact with Marcus whose face was etched with concern. “She perfect… I just wanted to ask you something.”

“You want my blessing.” Marcus asks him, seeing where he was going with the conversation.

Marcus had half expected for them two to elope or have a Vegas-style wedding. His youngest daughter was his wild child. He’s learned over the years that she was mini-Angela. He thought she would be the one to end up with Terry, the both of them were hot heads-however Brennan wanted Aaron. “Thought you two would elope.”

Aaron lets out a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. He doesn’t look him right in the eye. Marcus takes that silence for an answer to a question he didn’t even have to ask. “When.”

“June 17th.”

Marcus thinks of the date, turning in his seat to look at Aaron, an oh wow expression on his face. “And on her Birthday too.” He has to open the car door and get out, confusing Aaron and making him get out to. He stuffed in his hands in his pockets. Marcus walk around the front, stopping in front of Aaron in disbelief.

“So why are you asking me for my blessing. You did it behind my back already.”

“I wanna do it right this time.” Aaron could see another car pull into the driveway.

The doors open, Angela, Brennan and Noah. The three of them heading into the house.

“Right my ass.” Marcus grumbles. “What are you gonna tell me next, that she is pregnant?” Aaron makes a face and turns around, he jogs up the brick steps just as Marcus yells out. “Yo, Aaron! She better not be!”

Angela and Brennan had set the table, Noah in the other room, watching cartoons. The food was catered from Cajun Station, the scent of fish that lingered from being warmed in the oven masked by a lit candle. Brennan had snuck pieces of of shrimp to snack on, sneaking a few pieces to Noah.

“You’ve been gaining weight Bre.” Angela says from the kitchen. “You sure you ain't pregnant.” She brings the conversation from earlier backup. She noticed a certain glow to her and it wasn’t because her and Aaron finally moved in together.

“No mama.” She groans wondering where her sister is. She moves to look out the window. Aaron and her dad were still talking. She watched as Terry’s truck pull in.

Blaire slid out the front seat having stopped by the house to change. She switched to a white sundress and sandals. She had a bag in her hand and Terry’s half smile could be seen from the front porch.

”Stop looking at me like that,’ Blaire says.

“It feels good,’ he replies, while shutting her door.

“What feels good?”

“To know my wife missed me.”

He leaned in as if he was going to kiss her but instead pulled the bag from her hands to carry. The front door opened and the screen smacked against the wall as Noah ran towards his parents. Their private moment was interrupted, but Blaire knew it was going to be a long night.

“Let’s get inside, Terry,’ she pushed at his arm, guiding the son back towards the door. He followed behind them. She sent Noah back to the table and grabbed Terry’s hand before pulling him to the kitchen.

Terry had sent Blaire upstairs once they got home. It was the night before picture day and with it being the first day of school Noah had been anxious. So much that he had been telling Blaire he didn’t want to go. Knowing Blaire, she’d keep him home until he was ready, opting to homeschool instead of helping him to grow up. 

Helping Noah, Terry sits on the floor by his son's bed, mostly to get his backpack and clothes ready for the next day. He did his full nighttime routine while they waited for dinner to be delivered. Neither parent wanted to cook and with their talk looming over their heads, their minds were occupied. 

Giving Noah a snack he had him sit in the den. TV time was rare in the house, but Terry managed to get Blaire to compromise on a few shows on the weekends. Finding Blaire in the same place he did this morning, Terry closed the bedroom door behind him as he walked in. 

“Alright,’ he says, ‘let’s talk.” 

She sat up on the bed, tucking her legs under. 

“I miss you being in the house and the routine we had, just all of what we had.” 

“So why am I in an apartment?” He folded his arms across his chest. “If you want me here.” 

Her bottom lip started to poke out and her eyes welled up. Shit. Terry thought. He forgot she was a bit of a crybaby. 

“What did I do, Blaire?” 

Seven years of pent up frustration had finally blown over. The resentment she held onto had no base to hold onto once she spoke. 

“It felt like you put Summer before me and Noah.” 

Terry’s shoulders rolled back as her words blew him. “You weren’t answering your phone.” She went on, telling him the same story, this time he had perspective. Hers. “Brennan called, my mom called, my dad, your brother!” The tears poured down her face as she hissed the words at him, trying to keep her voice low. “You just barely made it to see him be born.” 

“I apologized for that, over and over, Blaire. I’ve begged you to forgive me for that.” 

“I have!” 

“Then..” 

“You shouldn’t have been late.” Blaire threw up her hands. “You should have dropped whatever you were doing and came to me. Your wife.” 

“She-’

"Oh fuck her!” She snaps. “Labor was hell for me. I had to lie there knowing where you were! And you to have the audacity to give me an ultimatum.” 

There was no arguing her on this. She was right. He cut it close to Noah’s birth and he knew she had been upset with him over it, but to cling to it for seven years? He understood the bitterness now. He never apologized for putting her second, because that's exactly what he had done. 

“You missed that. It wasn’t your hand I was holding. It wasn’t you telling me to push. You just barely made it! Then you came in smiling like you had been there! I wanted to sock that fucking grin off your face.” She punches her hand for emphasis and Terry looks down. 

“Now,’ she says, plopping down on the bed, ‘how can you fix that? How can you fix my trust in you?” 

Speechless, Terry rubbed a hand down the back of his head. 

“I’ve never felt so vulnerable,’ she explains, ‘and alone, my husband somewhere-’

Terry slipped into the bed with her, carefully reaching out to pull her into his arms. She fought him at first and he held his hands up. She didn’t get off the bed so he tried again and successfully pulled her into his chest. She looked up at him, eyes drenched in her tears. She couldn’t even keep up with wiping them away as they fell. 

He’d known Blaire all his life. Having grown up a few houses away from her she was one of the few neighborhood families that welcomed the Richmond family when they moved in. Blaire had always been a cryer. Her emotions so big she couldn’t help but cry. Instead, this time she was crying because of him. That he didn’t like. Holding her, he rubbed his hands up and down her back. He brought his hand around, using his thumb to wipe at the tears on her face. Blaire sucked in a deep breath, trying not to cry again. 

“Are you mad at me?” She asked. 

“What,’ he whispered, ‘no!” His head shook. “I just didn’t know how much I hurt you. Now I do.” 

She noticed he didn’t have on a shirt and she pushed at his chest. “Why don’t you ever have on a shirt?” 

“I’m hot natured, you know that.” Terry cupped her face, his fingers stroking the hair on the back of her neck. “Are you going to let me earn your trust back?” 

“Yeah I can t-’

"Don't try anything." His thumbs pressed to her lips. “Just be my wife again. Let me fix it.” 

The tv was on pause as Aaron kept her in a heated kiss. The two of them had returned home after a day with their family, Publix, and a quick run to Men’s Warehouse for Aaron. School started back tomorrow and it was picture day–he wanted to get a shirt that matched her outfit for their pictures. 

“We’re supposed to be watching the movie.” She reaches over him to sneak some popcorn and move her legs across his lap.

His arms come down from the back of the couch. His hands warm against her thigh while rubbing her smooth skin. After getting takeout, and coming home to finish unpacking, she found some of his old high-school shirts. Her name was etched into one of the sleeves in black sharpie and it became the shirt she decided she wanted to sleep in. His lips press against hers, using the hand on her thigh to pull her closer. She’s almost in his lap when she giggles.

“You’ve seen this one a thousand times.” He mumbles, rubbing his hand up to grab her ass, massaging the flesh between his fingers. 

“So, it’s my favorite movie.” she pushes him back to get up. She slides her feet into the stitch slippers he randomly got her.

Aaron’s face drops in a ‘where you going look', the dark lighting making his hazel-coloured eyes look sharper.  “I’m going to the bathroom.” She points to the tv. “Restart it.”

“We ain’t gon’ watch it.” He lets her go to grab the remote.

“You probably won’t but I am.”

Aaron shakes his head and restarts the movie but pauses it on the opening scene of SharkTale. Once he hears the bathroom door close, he rushes to a small room just off the den. 

Brennan took her time in the bathroom, relieving herself while reaching into the sink cabinet to pull out a small black gift bag. She set it on the sink vanity, finishing up to stand and wash her hands. Aaron was still sitting in his spot, arms resting in the back of the couch, phone tucked in his left hand to scroll through messages. Her eyes trail up his fingers–they look naked.

“You gon’ come sit down or keep starin'.” 

“I got something for you.” She moves around the couch, forgetting that she was staring. How could she not when he looked the way he does? He gives her his attention–phone dropping somewhere on the couch. 

“What is it.” 

Aaron sits up with a cheesy grin, eyes flickering from the small bag in her hands to her face. She sits next to him and puts the bag on the coffee table. “Gotta open it and see.”

“I got you somethin’ to.” He reaches on the side of the couch to pull out a small blue bag and place it in front of her. “Open yours first.”

Brennan grabs the blue gift bag–reaching inside she pulls out a small black velvet box. “Aaron.” She pulls her lip between her teeth to hide back a knowing smile. The material was soft beneath her fingers. The pads of them over the name ingrained in it. He reaches over to open it for her. The round cut diamond shines in her face that was accented with smaller ones. “This is beautiful.” 

Brennan had her eye on the woodland wedding set since the moment they decided to elope. Aaron had seen her looking at the rings on a jewelry website a few months ago. In the midst of them deciding to elope they hadn't thought about rings. She had been dropping hints the past few weeks, not realizing he already had the ring sized and delivered to his brother's apartment. 

She holds her left hand out palm down, making him chuckle at the excitement in her voice. “Put it on for me?”

He gently grabs the ring and silver band between his fingers. It slid on her fourth finger like butter. The silver-leafed band fitting snug below her left knuckle. Brennan would have to get used to the new weight on her finger, but her heart swelled knowing Aaron paid attention to details. 

Brennan almost forgets about her gift. “Open yours.” 

Aaron kind of had a clue on what it was when he pulled out the small wood grained box. The material smoothed against his fingers as he opened the box. “Damn.”

Brennan grins at the appreciative look on his face-eyes squinting as he pulls out the black and gold band. “Do you need your glasses?”

“Nah, baby. This.” He blows out with a small laugh and a smile that reaches his eyes. “It's perfect.”

Tungsten Carbide wasn’t a cheap material. The gold interior and then cut around it accented the black texture. She pulls it from his fingers and grabs his left hand. She had to sneak a couple of his other rings just to get it sized right. He watches her grin as it fits snugly around his ring finger.

“Now them bitches can know you're married.” 

@liquourlaughslove @heytaewrites @wrestlingprincess80 @simplyzeeka @prettyfilmz @venusesworld @nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @harmshake @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @eilujion @heytaewrites @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@browngirldominion @insidefeelingofanadult @blackerthings @gwenda-fav @brandithecrystalgem @captainwithoutmakingitlove @dremmmm @kindofaintrovert @thegreatlibraryofalex @jimmybutlrr @beenathembo @kuromiish @virgomess @bbyxgall @theereina @randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz @dundienominated @mymindisneverhere

[bullet-prooflove]

New Characters Added:

Logan Howlett

New Fics This Week:

Chicago Med:

3am - Sean spends some bonding time with his son.

Cobra Kai:

One Last Time - Terry's been waiting for the fall.

FBI:

Runaway - OA catches up with you before you can do something stupid much to Stuart's relief.

Justified:

Stars Align - Things start to go wrong just as Tim and yours stars align.

Law & Order:

Unbuttoned Shirt - Nolan makes a realisation about your career.

Law & Order SVU:

Surprise Gift - You surprise Joe with a Christmas gift

Marvel:

Summer - No one knows what Logan gets up to during the summer break.

Mayor of Kingstown:

Day Eight - Robert drowns his sorrows when he recieves some bad news about your condition.

NCIS:

Office Party (NSFW) - Nick gets jealous when he sees you with Sawyer.

NCIS - New Orleans:

Mistletoe - Douglas runs into you at City Hall underneath the mistletoe.

NCIS - Sydney:

Bliss - Your first date with JD is still going on 24 hours later.

Rescue Hi-Surf:

Traffic Lights - Will makes a mistake regarding his plans for the weekend.

Seal Team:

2017 - Eric recounts the moment things changed between the two of you.

Top Gun Maverick:

Surreal - You locate Jake after he disappears.

Tracker:

The Restless One - Colter never sticks around in one place until now.

Tulsa King:

Say It With Flowers (NSFW) - Bodhi wakes up to the sensation of flower petals on his skin.

Out of Hand - Bill loses his temper when a man from your past makes a reappearance.

Gold (NSFW) - You make Cal jealous after an indiscretion.

Macmallan 81 (NSFW) - You and Bill celebrate the New Year in style.

Yellowstone:

Country Dress - Rip's plans gets interrupted when you get into a fight at the bar.

Truth Hurts - Rip makes sure Travis keeps his promise.

Never Enough - John discovers there's another man interested in you.

Headstrong - Kayce's curse is that he always falls in love with headstrong women.

[shesgotthebeststories]

IT’S NICE TO HAVE A FRIEND

a rosa diaz x oc fic

“something gave you the nerve to touch my hand.”

a fic where maddy passed out at the precinct but will not let rosa take her home

TW: possible emetophobia warning. no actual mentions of it, however character is described to having symptoms that come along with it. stay safe lovelies <3

Maddy’s head was spinning. The cramps had started innocuously enough that morning, a dull ache in her lower abdomen. But as the hours wore on, the pain worsened, spreading like wildfire through her body. She winced, gripping the edge of her desk as she tried to focus on the case files in front of her.

“Get it together, Mads,” she muttered to herself. “You’ve got this.”

She glanced at the clock. It was just past noon, and the rest of the squad was out on a case. But with Captain Holt and Sergeant Terry away at a conference, Maddy had been entrusted with running the precinct. She couldn’t let her team down now, no matter how much pain she was in, even if it felt like her insides were being ripped apart. Her breathing hitched as a particularly sharp wave of pain passed through her, and she grimaced. It’s fine, she thought. It’s fine. Just get through the day. Rosa, who had been reviewing some case notes across the room, glanced up and immediately noticed the way Maddy’s hand was pressed to her stomach.

“You okay?” Rosa asked, her voice soft but with a note of concern. Maddy forced a smile, standing up straight despite the nausea bubbling up in her stomach.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired. The case files are piling up, you know?” Rosa didn’t look convinced, but she nodded.

“You sure? You’re not looking too good. I can drive you home if you need.” Maddy shook her head, giving Rosa a tight smile.

“I’m in charge today, Rosa. Captain’s out, and Sarge is at that conference. I’ve got this. Don’t worry about me.”

Rosa narrowed her eyes but didn’t push the matter further. She knew better than to force Maddy to accept help when she didn’t want it. But the look on Maddy’s face told her everything—this wasn’t just exhaustion, it was something deeper.

“I’ll check in on you later, okay?” Rosa said, her voice softer now, almost like she was speaking to someone who might break at any moment. Maddy nodded, waving her off as Rosa left the briefing room. She could feel the nausea creeping in again, a cold sweat forming on her brow. Focus, she told herself. Get through this. It’s just a few more hours. But an hour passed, and the pain only got worse.

-

Later that afternoon, Rosa came back to check on Maddy. The precinct was quieter now, the team still out. But Maddy was nowhere to be found. Her desk was empty, the chair pushed back, papers scattered on the floor. A flicker of worry crossed Rosa’s mind.

“Mads?” she called softly, walking down the hall. She checked the bathroom, the storage room, but didn’t find her. It wasn’t until she stepped into the downstairs bathroom that she froze. There, on the floor, was Maddy, curled up in a ball and clutching her stomach. Her face was pale, and she looked like she was on the verge of passing out.

“Maddy?” Rosa rushed to her side, kneeling down. “Mads, hey, talk to me.” Maddy groaned softly, her face contorted with pain.

“I… I’m fine,” she whispered, but it was clear she wasn’t.

“No, you’re not fine.” Rosa’s voice was firm now. “You need to go home. Let me take care of you.” Maddy shook her head weakly.

“I’m supposed to—I’m supposed to stay here. The team needs me—”

“The team can take care of itself, Mads,” Rosa interrupted gently, her fingers brushing back Maddy’s hair.

“You’re not going to be any good to anyone like this. I’m taking you home.” With a few more reassurances, Rosa helped Maddy to her feet, guiding her gently out of the precinct and into the car. Maddy was so drained that she didn’t protest, her head resting against the cool window as Rosa drove.

-

Once they arrived at Maddy’s apartment, Rosa quietly ushered her inside. Maddy, still shaken, headed straight for the bathroom to take a quick shower and decompress. While she was in there, Rosa set to work, moving efficiently around the living room. She gathered blankets, heat packs, Maddy’s favorite snacks, and a steaming mug of tea. By the time Maddy reemerged, the room was softly lit by candles, and Bride Wars—a movie Rosa always teased Maddy about—was paused on the TV, ready to play.

Maddy stepped out of the bathroom, sweatpants and tank top on, looking visibly more relaxed. She froze in the doorway when she saw the cozy setup Rosa had created. The sight made her chest tighten, emotion welling up inside her.

“Rosa…” Maddy said softly, her voice tinged with disbelief. “You did all this?” Rosa shrugged, leaning casually against the arm of the couch, though her expression softened.

“Of course. You needed it.” Maddy blinked, her throat thick with gratitude.

“You even put on Bride Wars. You hate that movie.” Rosa rolled her eyes, crossing her arms but smiling faintly.

“Yeah, well. You like it, so...” Maddy couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head.

“You’re full of surprises.” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Rosa in a tight hug. “Thank you. I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Rosa stiffened for a split second, as she often did with hugs, before her arms came up and gently encircled Maddy. She could feel the warmth of Maddy’s damp hair against her cheek and the steady rhythm of her breathing. Her heart skipped, and she hoped Maddy didn’t notice.

“You won’t have to find out,” Rosa murmured, her voice quieter than usual. When Maddy pulled back, her eyes shone with tears, but her smile was genuine.

“You’re kind of perfect, you know that?” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice. Rosa smirked, brushing it off with a small laugh.

“Don’t push it, Mads.” But as she helped Maddy to the couch and tucked a blanket around her, Rosa couldn’t shake the fluttering in her chest. They settled in together, Rosa placing heat packs on either side of Maddy and handing her the tea. Maddy leaned into Rosa’s side, resting her head on her shoulder with a content sigh. Rosa froze for a moment, her breath hitching at the unexpected closeness. She glanced down at Maddy, whose eyes were already closing, lulled by the warmth and comfort. Rosa swallowed hard, her thoughts swirling. Was this what friendship was supposed to feel like? The protectiveness, the quiet joy at seeing Maddy relaxed, the way her heart stuttered when Maddy smiled at her? She didn’t know. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to question it just yet.

“Let’s just stay like this for a while,” Maddy mumbled, her voice soft and drowsy. Rosa let out a quiet breath, wrapping her arm loosely around Maddy’s shoulders.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “As long as you need.” But as they sat there in the flickering candlelight, Rosa couldn’t help but wonder if she needed it just as much as Maddy did.

(a fic for all my fellow uterus holders who’s cramps make them feel like they are going to explode. i think i’m starting to get the hang of things when it comes to layout but we shall see )

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒏

🍓the strawberry shack masterlist🍓

summary - terry is frustrated, having to deal with the news of his friend and mother, he decides to go to his favourite place.

warning - smut, gloryhole, swearing.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Terry was depressed and pissed. He couldn’t believe what he had come home to, couldn’t believe his friend was fucking his mother, having to hear it whilst trying to sleep wasn’t something he really wanted to hear either. But it just added to the fire building inside him, and he had to get out of there before he snapped and did something he would regret. Terry walked inside a well-known building, too busy with his thoughts to admire the pretty sign. 

He storms in, placing cash on the front desk before he walks down the hall and into the room he’s looking for. Walking past many of the bare women and toward you, his favourite woman. He licks his lips as he stalks closer, softly touching your thighs and pressing his clothed bulge against your bare cunt. “I ain’t going soft today, sugar. So, I hope you're prepared.” You hum in response, feeling your walls slicken at the sound of him unzipping his pants and pulling out his long, thick member. Terry grips his throbbing base in his hands, rubbing his leaking tip through your folds before he slowly begins to push through your tight walls. His head falls back, eyes closing as a grunt falls from his lips. “Always so tight for me, sugar.” He buries himself deep inside you, relishing in the feel of your walls pulsating around him for a second before he slowly pulls back, only to slam harder into you. 

Your hands curl into the bed you are lying on, clinging hard as Terry slams into you. Soft whines and moans fall from your lips as he continues to pound into you. Fucking out his frustrations, his pace picks up, large hands gripping your thighs and pulling you closer. Terry stares down where the two of you connect, groaning as he watches his cock stretch your tight cunt, your white cream around his base every time he pulls out. “Feel so good, sugar. Doing so good for me!” He growls, gripping your hips as he slams deeper into you. He brings his hand down and locates your swollen clit, rubbing it. Your walls tighten, squeezing around him as he brings you pleasure. 

He lifts your hips slightly, allowing him to pound deeper into you, fucking into your sweet spot. He bites his lip, burying himself deep inside you as he feels your orgasm rip through you, causing his cock to twitch wildly as ropes of cum shoot out of him. “Fuck…” He stays inside you momentarily, catching his breath before slowly pulling out and tucking himself back into his pants. “Thanks, sugar.” Terry gives you a soft pinch before he leaves. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[superherokiller]

Suggs. Terry Hall (RIP)

[squidyyy23]

galladrabbles: tease pt. 1 💍

sat down with zero ideas for @gallawitchxx's prompt and come out with two drabbles. oops. so here's a serious one and a stupid one. 😂

--------------

Mickey shifts under the sweat-damp red satin sheets. Faces his husband. Fuck, husband.

He’s still having trouble accepting it. Accepting they finally made it. For once, it worked out. That Terry or mental illness or Sammi or prison or dead POs or Terry again didn’t burn it all down.

For once, stability—happiness—wasn’t a tease. For once, it wasn’t ripped out from under them. He held his breath, waiting for a freak asteroid to crash into the hall, up until he heard “I do” ringing in his ears.

“We did it,” he breathes into Ian’s swollen lips.

“Always knew we would.”

--------------

[puella-peanut]

Summer, And What Came Of It

Written for the @allvalley100 Word Drabble Challenge. This time it was “Gamble” for Amnesty week.

(100 words for each individual part as counted by A03 Drafts)

...

The Summer I Turned Hot

Summer before sophomore year, he worked hard to shed his godawful childhood nickname, as well as the scrawny figure which birthed said nickname. 

John wondered at Twi—uh, Terry's—sudden motivation, but shrugged it off as another of his best friend's...eccentricities. 

After all, motivation took many forms—Terry's just happened to be shaped like the fun-sized, doe-eyed, outrageously adorable Japanese History teacher at his college. 

So, as he did his pushups and focused on the pretty newspaper clipping of Professor LaRusso taped to his wall, Terry couldn’t help but grin. 

(There were some things John didn't have to know.)

The Long (Hot) Summer 

Nearly four weeks into summer break, Professor LaRusso was hearing...rumors. About Twig. Of all people. 

Rumors which said that 'Twig' was going by Terry. That he was getting ripped. That he was sporting a sleek ponytail. That he wanted to...

...impress someone. 

Professor LaRusso scrunched his nose as he was prone to do in moments of confusion. But why? Surely, the person Twi—uh, Terry—liked appreciated him the way he was! The anime-convention attending, Magic-the-Gathering playing, President-of-the-Advanced-Math-League...lovable nerd. 

(Appreciated him like how Professor LaRusso, did.)

He sighed, looking at his calendar.  Next semester couldn’t come soon enough.

Summer Is Over (But It's Still Hot)

When Terry entered the lecture hall, he decided to play it cool and put his gamble into action.

"...Mr. Silver?!" Professor LaRusso squeaked with round eyes as Terry oh-so-casually passed him. Like he couldn't believe this dark and handsome charmer was former dork-supreme Twig.

"Oh...Professor," Terry said, with the lower pitch and devastating smirk he’d practiced for hours, “Hope you enjoyed your long, hot,” he gave him a sultry once-over, “...summer."

Then he smoothly sauntered off to his seat, inwardly grinning like a maniac while poor Professor LaRusso blushed. Furiously. 

This was going to be a semester to remember.

...

Poor Professor LaRusso is like:

...Anyways, I wrote the last section first (hence why it has the word gamble), and the other parts wanted to tag along too. Might add a final part on my a03...

[caniaskyouabouttoday]

Fire Fly With Me

“I was the color red in a world full of black and white.”

RIP Windham Rotunda “Bray Wyatt” 1987-2023

This has been a tragic week for wrestling. Yesterday, Terry Funk, a 79 year old second generation legend died. Funk had a 52 year career spanning practically every promotion and continent. A first ballot Hall of Famer in every sense of the word, who even had a little sideline in Hollywood; Terry Funk was an old man who had done everything you can possibly do in wrestling and then much more. He accomplished his goals.

Today, a third generation wrestler, the son of Mike Rotunda, grandson of Blackjack Mulligan, and nephew of Barry Windham; Bray Wyatt passed away. After an electric return last fall it felt like there was either an unclear plan for his run or a creative difference between the performer and management. Following a match that was a neon splattered gimmicky promotion to sell Mountain Dew at the January Royal Rumble; Bray Wyatt once again took his leave. Rumors swirled that there were creative differences, Bray having personal issues, and even one of a prolonged illness. Today Bray Wyatt passed away of a heart attack caused by COVID-19 exacerbating existing heart problems.

Bray Wyatt, and another legacy talent - the son of Mr. Perfect, Joe Hennig made their WWE debut with the very unfortunate and puzzling ring names of “Husky Harris” and “Michael McGillicutty” respectively. The pair floundered after debuting in a big angle and returned to the developmental territories for repackaging.

Rotunda created the character Bray Wyatt, a sort of backwoods cultist who harkened to the character Max Cady in Cape Fear; portrayed by both Robert Mitchum and Robert DeNiro on screen. Wyatt also paid homage in his presentation to another Mitchum character, Reverend Harry Powell from Night of the Hunter. The character was awash in cinema; with his followers reminded attentive fans of The Last House on the Left and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Despite some fans initially heckling the repackaging with chants of “Husky Harris” when he debuted; Wyatt made a splash quickly and very soon erased the perception left by his failed first WWE tenure. Before he even had spent a year in the organization he was poised as the next generation’s supernatural, eerie badass - an elder millennial replacement to the aging, semi-retired Undertaker.

His first Wrestlemania match could not have been bigger for the character. One on one with John Cena at the 30th WrestleMania he was poised to go to the next level. Everything pointed to a Wyatt victory; after defeating The Rock at the most bought WrestleMania ever the previous year it was clear Cena was winding down and leaving his prime. He had one foot out the door for a film and television career and many fans who had grown up cheering his white meat kid friendly act had outgrown Cena.

WrestleMania 30 was held in New Orleans, clearly a town that has more in common with Wyatt than Cena. After an epic entrance with a band of plague doctors playing him to the ring as the crowd held their phone flashlights high the audience sang “He’s Got The Whole World In His Hands” cheering Wyatt to victory. Inexplicably, Cena defeated the rising star clean in the middle of the ring. This did nothing for Cena’s already sky high profile but did not seem to take all the wind out of Wyatt’s sails.

Wyatt’s popularity persisted and he marched towards a WrestleMania match with The Undertaker the next year. The Undertaker’s WrestleMania win streak had ended the year prior and if there ever was a moment for a changing of the guard it was their match at WrestleMania 31. Instead of holding that torch aloft, Bray looked up at the lights of Levi’s Stadium as The Undertaker pinned him with his signature Tombstone piledriver.

This was not the final resting place of the Wyatt character though, he captured the WWE title in 2017. This unfortunately led to a series of comically awful matches with Randy Orton and a baffling feud and then pairing with Matt Hardy.

It was clear that the character had been derailed by 2018. Wyatt was taken off TV for a prolonged absence; but soon vignettes featuring a corrupted children’s television show of evil puppets began to air. These led to Wyatt returning in a brilliant dual character; the sweater clad children’s entertainer Bray Wyatt; who hosted his Firefly Fun House; an homage to Mr Rogers’s Neighborhood, Blues Clues, and especially Pee Wee’s Playhouse (eerily hosted by the recently passed Paul Reubens.) The show would feature the puppets being sadistic to each other, Bray barely containing his rage and bitterness beneath the calm, sweater-clad veneer he put forth. Bray would work through his personal issues via bizarre skits with his cast of demented puppets. Huskus the Pig Boy was an effigy to his resentments about his debut; Mercy the Buzzard was a sly homage to Dan Spivey’s short lived Waylon Mercy character who was an antecedent of Wyatt. A devil horned muppet version of WWE chairman Vince McMahon would guest on the show.

The sweater barely strait jacked his other personality, The Fiend. A psychopath in a human flesh mask bent on torture and cruelty who could not be stopped inside the ring. The Fiend adopted Mankind’s Mandible Claw as a finisher, itself a reference to killer Samuel Sheppard.

Wyatt’s new character was unstoppable and took the WWE by storm capturing the title and minting money for the company on their merchandise site. Wyatt was back and living up to the promise of his debut. He was headed towards the Undertaker level.

Then in February 2020, in a widely derided decision, The Fiend was soundly beaten by ancient, creaky Goldberg to build to a later canceled match against Roman Reigns that was violently rejected by fans.

In March 2020 the world shut down due to the pandemic. Fans could not attend WrestleMania and we were in for a bizarre and surreal show in an empty soundstage. Wyatt was set for a rematch with John Cena for the show initially set for a football stadium in sunny Tampa Bay. If ever there was a moment for the kind of wrestler that has guitar playing plague doctors set the stage for his entrance, it was now.

The match with Cena was to be a “Firefly Fun House” match. Nobody knew what this entailed. What we were about to witness, is in my opinion, the greatest match of the 2020s. The Firefly Fun House is a beautiful expression of a “post wrestling” era we live in. By 2020 most fans who have been following wrestling for decades pay cursory attention to the modern performers and their storylines and matches in the ring. Backstage drama, old timers sniping at each other on podcasts, fan nostalgia and review shows, and twitter beefs had supplanted modern wrestling to most fans.

In a cinematic match, a new wrestling format that would become a trope of the pandemic era, Bray and the WWE created a surrealist nightmare that had more in common with a David Lynch film than a grappling bout.

Bray had an axe to grind with Cena for his disappointment when Cena poured water on his burning hot career six years earlier in New Orleans. Ever the psychological sadist, Bray crafted a dream logic nightmare for Cena to enter that makes him confront his failures, insecurities, and disappointments just like Wyatt had for Cena-related setbacks going back all the way to 2010.

It also takes us on a tour of wrestling history; using beloved totems of different generations like the “Big Blue” cage and the Smackdown fist to play mind games with us, the fans about why we love this stuff and why we care.

Cena’s iconic theme plays before the empty soundstage to an eerie and uncomfortable silence that does not belong with it. It feels so alien and wrong without explosive dueling boos and cheers. Cena walks out on the stage as a broken montage of WrestleMania 1 clips cut to Bray inside the Firefly Fun House, giving a Rod Serling introduction to the insecurities made manifest within.

“You’re about to face your most dangerous opponent yet, yourself,” Wyatt threatens with unseemly glee. Wyatt departs and Rambling Rabbit points Cena towards Wyatt’s whereabouts.

Cena enters a black room and looks around briefly until a puppet McMahon lays down a gauntlet similar to what he did for Cena way back in 2002. Cena begins on an A Christmas Carol like visit of the ghost of Cena’s past. Wyatt stages a reenactment of Cena’s debut loss to Kurt Angle; which a much older Cena responds to in his rookie ring gear. In keeping with the dream logic Cena is unable to hit Wyatt as he mocks him with a cartoon soundboard and a series of verbal potshots.

Cut to the iconic introduction of Saturday Night’s Main Event in its heyday complete with the classic “Obsession” by Animotion. Wyatt cuts a standard shouting 80s promo behind the big blue cage, introducing Cena as “Johnny Largemeat” - Cena cannot stop curling dumbells and starts maniacally thrashing them until he loses control of his arms.

We then flash to Cena reprising his early freestyle rapper character, who is cursed with a strange form of mutism where he can only speak in raps. Cena attempts to turn the tables on Wyatt verbally; but Wyatt quickly rebuttals him and changes the narrative to remind Cena of those he stepped on climbing the ranks and that it’s lonely at the top. Cena still cannot physically attack Wyatt, and his attempt gets him knocked out.

Cut to a sermonizing Wyatt, regressing to his 2014 form, revisiting the heartbreak of WrestleMania 30.

Wyatt taunts Cena to hit him with a chair, he’s unable to.

Cut to Cena and Wyatt in nWo t shirts and black jeans, a visual even more bizarre than Cena’s grand WrestleMania entrance on an empty soundstage. Cena can finally attack Wyatt and tackles him and brutalizes him with punches, until Wyatt is replaced with the Huskus puppet.

The Fiend appears in the ring, materializing behind Cena to deliver the mandible claw. The Fiend pins Cena as we show sweater Bray gleefully counting the pinfall, Did Bray right his wrong? Was Cena swayed to some sort of dark side - there are moments where it feels like Cena has become the alternate Dale Coopers from Twin Peaks The Return with character flourishes akin to the evil “Coop” and the strange, simple “Dougie.”

There is so much packed into the editing and storytelling of this match that I could not possibly do it justice. When everything has been done that you can do in a wrestling match - what’s next? Instead of a wrestling match where you wrestle, hold a “wrestling match” about wrestling.

Elvis Costello once quipped that writing about music was like dancing about architecture. I assume he doesn’t own any 33 1/3 books.

A wrestling match that replaces contesting wrestling with being about wrestling was perfect for the turn of this new decade and many years of fan ennui. At a time where fans are more curious about all the things that happen outside of the squared circle that lead to the action inside it, it fulfilled a need we didn’t know we had. I recommend giving this, alongside the excellent Wyatt Family vs The Shield bout from Elimination Chamber 2014 where you also see Wyatt’s partner Luke Harper, aka Brodie Lee in action. Wyatt is pre deceased by Harper.

Sadly, that was about the peak of The Fiend character. An ill fated partnership with Alexa Bliss that never quite struck the right tone was a miss during the empty arena era. At WrestleMania 37, the first show in a year before live fans, The Fiend lost to Randy Orton in a match that was widely panned. The two third generation stars had a toxic anti-chemistry with each other and WWE kept returning to the pairing for reasons that feel like sabotage in hindsight. Wyatt was off TV for several months and shockingly released outright in the summer of that year.

After a prolonged absence and various hints at a comeback; Wyatt returned last fall at Extreme Rules in a thrilling segment to an explosive response. Sadly, the creative direction for Wyatt never found its legs. Behind the scenes it’s unclear if there was a creative struggle before Wyatt fell ill.

Bray was supposed to be the next Undertaker, and he wasn’t. He was the first, the only, and the inimitable Bray Wyatt. A backwoods preacher of doom and mayhem, a sadistic Ed Gein type killer, and a smiling, laughing, but unhinged children’s TV host. Already having demonstrated a knack for reinvention, Bray could have been many more things. He will have to be those in the imagination of the fans now.

What he did leave was important and memorable. I believe he had a Hall of Fame career, and though that claim may be controversial and contentious; that is the nature of the Wyatt character. He may have been polarizing, but everyone had an opinion on him, and not indifference; and I know wrestling fans universally feel like wrestling is suffering a tremendous loss. Even if he didn’t do something that connected with your tastes, he had something in his bag of tricks that would some day.

So smash your flashlight button one last time for Bray Wyatt and hold it up high. As the Undertaker himself would say, Rest In Peace.

[ratislatis]

Hihi! i’ve seen your dndads art and your scary design is very very cool! :]

hello hello!!! augh im so popular tonight what is transpiring in these halls?????

thank you so much!! i have never fully considered the fact that people actually see my art 😭 rip to everybody who came across my existence through my post mourning terry jr and subsequently destroying the community for a day

I love that emoticon, its so full of joy :] what an esteemed gentleman. effervescent

[floridaboiler]

source -goldandblack.com

RIP Purdue legend Terry Dischinger

*1960 Olympic Gold Medalist

*NBA Rookie of the Year, Three-time All-American (1960-62)

*Averaged 28.7 pts, 13.7 rebounds at Purdue

*Record 24 30 pt,/10 reb. games as a Boilermaker

*2019 College Basketball Hall of Fame

[watching-pictures-move]

Put On Your Raincoats | Unwilling Lovers (Colt, 1977)

Now, this is coming from someone who’s watched a few too many movies that merit a colossal “Watch at Your Own Risk” label, so take this with a grain of salt, but what’s most surprising about this movie, which is a porno about a necrophile serial killer, is how not soul crushing the experience is. To be clear, this isn’t a pleasant movie to sit through, but I think the griminess is… maybe not alleviated, but at least complicated by the sheer weirdness. A lot of that comes down to the lead performance by Zebedy Colt, who also directed. Colt as an actor I know primarily for playing sickos and freaks, but what I think distinguishes him here from other porn actors who specialized in such roles is the seeming lack of agency. Jamie Gillis and George Payne played such roles to memorable effect as well, but you look at their characters and get the sense that they’re in control and might behave in ways you might be able to predict (not that such knowledge would offer much sense of safety). Colt plays this character as a clashing combination of tics, which creates a certain instability, as if his actions are at least in part out of his hands. (He takes a similar approach to his character in Sex Wish, but in that movie he is frighteningly forceful and takes control of the proceedings in ways that totally destabilize the movie.) Now I wouldn’t call this movie a work of psychological realism, but given that his character has the mind of a child and imitates what he sees and hears, and given that the only instances of sex he sees are marked by violence explicit or implicit, there’s a certain logic to him engaging in murder and necrophilia.

All of this sounds unsettling, and I suppose it is, but I think Colt both through his performance and through his direction injects an element of camp into the proceedings. Colt does a Jerry Lewis impression when in child mode and does a macho man parody when he’s imitating other characters. And Renee Sanz, as his domineering mother, plays her role cartoonishly, like a parody of a bad Southern Gothic novel. And while the movie doesn’t dance around its subject matter, it also doesn’t rub your face in it the way something like the similarly themed Forced Entry does. (“Not as bad as Forced Entry! Four stars!” says Variety.) I suppose some of that might be the ragged, not entirely competent filmmaking, but when you have a supposedly horrific murder scene where the actresses conveniently duck out of the frame to get stabbed and stumble back in clutching their stomachs unconvincingly, it’s hard not to chuckle at least a bit. I think Colt has demonstrated his knack for weirdness elsewhere, so I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt, even if the heavily degraded VHS rip I watched, which makes everyone look radioactive, did his craft no favours. (Colt’s striped sweater and red shoes will sear your retinas.) This was also shot on Colt’s country property (apparently the same weekend as Terri’s Revenge!), and I think the setting goes some way to diffuse the pungency of the proceedings.

If anything, the fact that the copy made everything unappealing probably works in the movie’s favour as horror, although given the great female cast, there are, how you say, limits to how unpleasant the proceedings can be no matter how much jagged editing Colt deploys. (Saying that I found the ladies in the necrophile porno hot would be a surefire way to end up on a watchlist, so I won’t say it. In those words. And certainly not out loud. “Necrophile porno has super hot cast! Four stars!” says Variety. There, they said it, not me.) This has a few Colt regulars like Jody Maxwell, Terri Hall and Nancy Dare, all of whom I like seeing in these things. Peter Andrews in a recent Rialto Report interview recalls the pleasant atmosphere on set, and I do think you get a slight vibe that this is a group of people who enjoyed coming together to make a messed up porno movie. The movie wisely also casts C.J. Laing and Annie Sprinkle, who are great to have in your movie if you want to make weird, off putting or extreme sexual content bearable to watch. Only Annie Sprinkle could make a question about “kinky shit” sound wholesome.

[manifestopaulo]

Post-Punk, Reggae, and the Evolution of East London's Music Scene

Introduction

The British music scene has a vibrant history of embracing and transforming genres from different cultures, particularly black music. From the Beatles' admiration for American rock 'n' roll in the 1960s to the rise of reggae music, the British have taken these influences and added their own innovative touch. However, it was with the emergence of reggae in Britain that an exciting and transformative journey began. This journey eventually paved the way for genres like rave, jungle, garage, and dubstep.

Moreover, East London played a central role in shaping this musical landscape. This essay aims to uncover the deep connection that East London has with dub and reggae music, as well as the influential East London artists who emerged and played a significant part in transforming British music.

Early days of Reggae in East London.

Reggae has been a part of East London's music scene since the 1960s, and we owe a great debt to the generations before us who not only created this music but also embraced it, making it cool to listen to. As a personal example, my father was part of the first-wave of skinheads and frequented reggae or 'Blues beat' clubs like the Four Ace's in Dalston during his formative years. The Four Ace's, established in 1966, the Wikipedia entry for the Four Ace’s states that ‘in the 1960s and 1970s, the club was one of the first venues to play black music in the United Kingdom and was credited with playing a significant "role in the evolution of reggae into dance music, from ska, to rocksteady, to dub, to lovers, to dancehall and the evolution of jungle.’

The experiences my father had during that time left a lasting impact on his musical taste, which included artists like John Holt and Bob Marley, as well as Tamela Motown Records and sophisticated 70s soul. These musical preferences were shared by many East Londoners during that era.

A Confluence of Influences: Post-Punk and Reggae

When punk arrived, my father's generation might have been considered too old for that scene. However, it was during the emergence of the second wave of British reggae enthusiasts that something truly groundbreaking occurred. This generation not only embraced punk music but also incorporated elements of reggae and punk into their own music. These individuals were visionaries who played integral roles in the music industry and the post-punk scene. Artists such as Jerry Dammers and Terry Hall with The Specials, John Lydon and Jah Wobble with Public Image Limited, Pauline Black and The Selector, Neenah Cherry with Rip Rig & Painic, Adrian Sherwood, The Pop Group, The Clash, The Slits, and even Madness, played a vital role in the cultural fusion of post-punk and reggae.

The connection between post-punk and reggae in the British music scene is a testament to the remarkable diversity that emerged during this period. They took reggae as a starting point and created their own unique punk versions or experimented with unconventional, abstract variations of the genre. The intertwining of post-punk and reggae is an undeniable connection that can be viewed as a breeding ground for the unique British diversity that would resurface and continue in genres like jungle and dubstep These genres can be seen as natural progressions of the groundwork laid by the reggae-inspired post-punk musicians.

It is important to acknowledge the pioneers of reggae and those who stayed true to its traditional roots. Reggae itself deserves immense praise, but this piece focuses on the diverse sounds it has inspired. Reggae did not necessarily require diversification, but it played a pivotal role in encouraging white British individuals to embrace diversity and undergo transformative experiences. Reggae was everywhere while I was growing up in Hackney - resonating from tower blocks, playing at parties of friends with West Indian Caribbean backgrounds, and streaming from radios & stereos of guys I worked with. During my early teens, there was a Dancehall reggae boom, with half of my friends into ‘Dancehall Ragga’ and the other half into either rave or Heavy Metal music. It was just the way things were back then.

The East London Connection: Jah Wobble.

The biggest noteworthy figure from East London who played a pivotal role in this transformation is Jah Wobble. Born John Joseph Wardle of Stepney Green, the bass guitarist and singer known as the original bass player in Public Image Ltd (PiL) in the late 1970s. Jah Wobble perfectly embodies the open-minded and diverse music approach ingrained in certain types of East London residents. He went on to pioneer a plethora of diversity in his music.

The Influence of Post-Punkers on Rave

Among the post-punk artists, it was the industrial music musicians who wholeheartedly embraced change. Hackney resident Genesis P.Orridge of Throbbing Gristle made influential contributions to acid house with his project 'Jack the Tab,' just as Richard H Kirk of Cabaret Voltaire did in the Sheffield scene and early Warp Records. They were not interested in remaining loyal to a single genre but instead chose to move with the current and embrace whatever manifested at the time. Artists like Jah Wobble, along with many likeminded individuals, were already exploring the realms of reggae, hip hop, and electronic music. The combination of these factors sparked an optimistic and forward-thinking attitude towards music, and the post-punk era cultivated a remarkably imaginative and inventive environment during the vibrant decades of the 80s and 90s, which proved to be an optimal period for artistic exploration and groundbreaking innovation.

Mutation, diversity and open-mindedness towards music all idea’s that would find home and be carried forward in Rave. Other influences added to the cultural blend, including the energetic beats of hip hop, house, and techno. As a result, the British Reggae-Rave version of this music emerged. Some of it had an electrifying party energy that gleefully crank-up the insanity level, with an emphasis on multiculturalism much similar to the British Ska movement of the late 70s. Then some of it would be dissonant and otherworldly like a mix of techno and more abstracted post-punk like Public Image Ltd. This thrilling evolution proved to be revolutionary, setting the stage for Jungle, Drum & Bass & Dubstep. This emerging genre of dance music would serve as a platform for even more numerous young individuals, many of who had little music training or equipment, to engage with music. Enabling them to flourish, thrive and capture the spotlight, which, in my opinion, truly epitomises the essence of punk. This indomitable spirit, reminiscent of both British Punks and Jamaican rebels, continued to exert its influence within the rave generation, as a real rebel connection.

Furthermore, when artists from East London who had primarily focused on reggae music began experimenting with abstracted reggae elements and rave-inspired tempos, as exemplified by the likes of 'Shut Up & Dance' and their 'Hackney Hardcore' projects, the rapid development of Jungle music was greatly accelerated.

Since then, East London has consistently been at the forefront of underground dance movements, particularly during the ascent of rave music in the UK. This is not by chance, as at that time, East London's vibrant music scene provided the perfect nurturing ground for experimentation and creativity to flourish. This collective effort resulted in a vibrant underground dance movement that East London has continued to lead ever since.

Conclusion

The journey from post-punk to rave exemplifies music's ability to transcend boundaries and spark creativity. The experimentation and melting pot of ideas in the post-punk era have had a lasting influence on future generations. The contributions of reggae-inspired post-punk musicians will remain a source of pride and inspiration, serving as a constant reminder of the limitless possibilities in both music and life.

In conclusion, the most significant impact of rave was its ability to bring people together and overcome differences. Rave culture was about breaking down divisions and embracing unity. The transition from reggae to rave, jungle, garage, and dubstep is a testament to the coming together of people from different cultures within these shores creating genres that celebrate the cultural mix in music. The enduring legacy of East London's music history reminds us of the importance of unity and transcending differences. The influence of these artists and the love for dub and reggae music in East London continues to shape not only the UK music scene, but also that of the world.

[brooklynislandgirl]

From my beloved @mouthoftheocean Optional tag: Music-fiends, you know who you are. 1.   a song you can listen to on repeat Red Right Hand || Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds Whatever It Takes || Imagine Dragons 2.   a song from one of your favorite albums Alive || Pearl Jam - 10 Levon || Elton John - Madman Across the Water 3.   a song you loved when you were a teenager or kid Mr Brownstone || Guns N Roses Me and Bobby McGee || Janis Joplin The End || The Doors 4.   a song that makes you feel strong The Warrior Song - Leviathan || Sean Householder Wolf Totem || The Hu 5.   a song that makes you sad Indian Sunset || Elton John The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald || Gordon Lightfoot Pirate’s Plea || The Musical Blades 6.   a song that cheers you up Can’t Stop || Red Hot Chili Peppers Mwahahahah || Ookla the Mok Survivor Evolved || Neebs Gaming ft. JT Music {{RIP Thick44}} 7.   a song that reminds you of your friend(s) Lux Aeterna || Clint Mansell Throw Your Arms Around Me || Hunters and Collectors Sugar in the Hold || The Jolly Rogers Friends in Low Places || Garth Brooks 9.   a song that reminds you of yourself Texas Longhorn || Django Walker Closer to the Heart || Rush A Pirate Looks At Forty || Jimmy Buffet 10.  a song that brings back good memories Get the Funk Out || Extreme Amarillo By Morning || George Strait Sex Type Thing || Stone Temple Pilots {feel free to ask why} 11.  a song that grew on you Smooth Criminal || Alien Ant Farm {cover} On a Boat || The Lonely Island 12.  a song from a musical Music of the Night || Michael Crawford - Phantom of the Opera Right Hand Man || Jonathan Young and Caleb Hyles - Hamilton You’ll Be Back || Jonathan Young - Hamilton Falcon in the Dive || Terry Mann - The Scarlet Pimpernel Into the Fire || Douglas Sills and Original Broadway Cast - The Scarlet Pimpernel Madame Guillotine || Original Broadway Cast - The Scarlet Pimpernel Stars || Phillip Quast as Javert - Les Miserables 13.  a song with a great music video Sweep the Leg || No More Kings Jack Sparrow || The Lonely Island 14.  a song that’s better as a cover Temple of Love || Johnny Hollow The Plagues || Jonathan Young and Caleb Hyles -Prince of Egypt Old Town Road || Richaad EB and Jonathan Young 15.  a song that’s better acoustic Down in a Hole || Alice in Chains Radioactive || Daughtry {cover} 16.  a song with great lyrics Anybody Listening? || Queensryche Comfortably Numb || Pink Floyd 17.  a song for summer Santeria || Sublime When the Sun Goes Down || Kenny Chesney Toes || Zac Brown Band 18.  a song for heartache Snuff || Corey Taylor {Slipknot} Fuck You || Cee Lo Green and Daryl Hall

19.  a song for car rides Life is a High Way || Rascal Flatts Free Fallin’ || Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers Calypso || John Denver 20.  a song for the rain Featherstone || Paper Kites What Kind of Love || Childish Gambino Nocturne #20 in C Sharp Minor || Chopin 21.  a song for dancing Can’t Dance || Cooper Allen Rodeo || Garth Brooks What I Love About Sundays || Craig Morgan 22.  a song for making out Hole-Hearted || Extreme More than Whiskey in Mind || Christian Kane Bad Romance || Lady Gaga 23.  a song for a lover Hallelujah || Jeff Buckley A Thousand Years || Christina Perri I’ll Be || Edwin McCain 24.  a song from before you were born White Rabbit || Jefferson Airplane Killer Queen || Queen 25.  a song from a band that’s no longer together Blow Up The Outside World || Soundgarden Big Empty || Stone Temple Pilots 26.  a song you’ve seen live Operation LIVEcrime || Queensryche {{yes the whole album/show}} 27.  a song you want to see live Hollywood Pirate || The Musical Blades House Rules || Christian Kane 28.  a song by a band you don’t usually like   Bang Bang || Jessie J, Ariana Grande, Nicki Minaj 29.  a song you recommend Montero || Lil Nas X