#the way he stays in his lane making good music is not gonna appeal to kpoppies sadly

[sanstropfremir]

Why don’t Kpop fans ever talk about Kangta’s “Eyes On You” more? I rewatched the video recently and was floored by how simplistic the choreography was, how gorgeous the video was, and how sexy the song was? From the song down to the choreography, it just was really refreshing to see and have and I can’t believe it flopped, but thank god Kangta is long past the point of needing albums to sell millions in order to feed all his dogs 😭

LITERALLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY i've been trying to get people onto eyes on you for MONTHS kangta is an og for a REASON!!!!!!!!!!! the mv is fucking gorgeous, the costuming is SO cool, the lighting is spectacular, the choreo is well suited to his age + generation, the song is soooooooooo fucking good (it's a dem jointz track!), what more do you people want!!! i'm so glad he's like the most secure artist at sm so his 85 dogs are always gonna be fed even tho kpoppies will never appreciate him 😭😭😭

[carewyncromwell]

[Ficlet] Gonna Hit Rewind

Hi guys! So this is a little drabble inspired by a prompt by my friend @drinkyoursoupbitch​, where I show what my MC, Carewyn Cromwell, was up to during a certain scene in the Harry Potter series! 

Before we begin, just a couple of notes --

Post-Hogwarts, Carewyn becomes a lawyer for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement -- you can read more about her life as an adult here, if you’d like! When it comes to the Order of the Phoenix, Carey-Bear doesn’t formally join, instead providing covert assistance while staying autonomous from Dumbledore (who she doesn’t really like as a person) and looking “subservient” to Fudge’s wishes. Later on, this becomes very useful after the Death Eaters take over the Ministry in 1997: when the Battle of Hogwarts begins, Carewyn actually helps take back the Ministry by placing Umbridge under citizen’s arrest and temporarily taking charge until Kingsley Shacklebolt is officially appointed Minister. Carewyn’s outfit in the sketch enclosed below is inspired by this design. Musical accompaniment for this ficlet were “Leave Me Alone” by Michael Jackson (for Carewyn’s conversation with that...certain family member in the aforementioned sketch) and “Turn Back Time” by Derivakat (which inspired the title of this drabble!). And in regards to Carewyn’s negative attitude toward Time Turners...that is 110% my mother talking. When we read Harry Potter and the Cursed Child together, she absolutely hated that it involved time travel, as she found the whole idea ridiculously confusing and illogical. (The whole climax of Prisoner of Azkaban was even her least favorite aspect of the original Potter books. 😂)

Hope you enjoy -- and much love, Soup dear! xoxo

x~x~x~x

“Down here, down here,” panted Mr. Weasley, taking two steps at a time. “The lift doesn’t even come down this far…why they’re doing it there…”

They reached the bottom of the steps and ran along yet another corridor, which bore a great resemblance to that which led to Snape’s dungeon at Hogwarts, with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. The doors they passed here were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes.

“Courtroom…Ten…I think…we’re nearly �� yes.”

As Arthur Weasley rushed down the hall toward Courtroom Ten, he was unaware that in Courtroom Seven, the door of which was left slightly ajar, Carewyn Cromwell was speaking to her estranged uncle, the new head of the Cromwell Clan, at that very moment, nor that their conversation would ultimately determine Harry’s fate in that courtroom happening just three doors down. 

“You’re not supposed to be here, Blaise, and you know that full well.”

“I merely wished to speak with the Minister, little Winnie -- you are aware of how much our family still supports the Ministry and, by extension, your career, are you not?”

Carewyn fixed Blaise with a very cold blue eye. “And I suppose Lucius Malfoy speaking with the Minister down here mere moments ago had nothing to do with you making an unscheduled visit?”

Blaise cocked his eyebrows, his identically colored and shaped eyes narrowing under them.

“I can sense you trying to enter my mind, Winnie,” he said very softly, his eyes rippling like light blue flames despite the hardness of his face. “It won’t work. You couldn’t reach my thoughts when you were a girl, and you can’t reach them now.”

His voice became cooler, to the point of sounding condescending. 

“Whatever questions you have, you know your uncle would be more than willing to answer them, if you merely ask nicely.”

‘Answer’ -- ha! Carewyn thought to herself scornfully. Lie your face off, more like. But even so...if I’m going to get what I need, I need to keep him talking...

Carewyn went very quiet, considering Blaise carefully and her next words even more so. 

“...Are you or are you not associating with Lucius Malfoy?” she asked softly.

“You might recall that he and Father were business associates back in the day.”

“Of course I do. That’s why I’m asking. Or have you forgotten where Grandfather’s activities sentenced him -- where they sentenced you, until you were able to bribe the Minister to reduce the rest of your family’s sentences?”

“Our family, little Winnie,” Blaise corrected her, a notable, fiery edge to his voice.

You all may be related to me by blood, but you are not my family, Carewyn thought fiercely, but she once again bit her tongue. If she provoked his temper the way she was tempted to, he’d be less likely to talk to her. 

When she didn’t respond, Blaise continued. 

“Lucius Malfoy has always had a working relationship with the Cromwell Clan. It’s only natural that we speak from time to time, as two patriarchs of prominent magical families.”

“Magical families with certain reputations, you mean,” Carewyn said very coolly. 

“Cornelius Fudge thinks very highly of Lucius Malfoy.”

“And of you, thanks to your impressive acting. But that doesn’t extend to everyone else, and you know it.”

“Of course,” said Blaise with a very cool smirk. “That’s something we have in common, isn’t it, Winnie? Putting on a charming face to get what we want, and not caring who hates us for it?”

Carewyn didn’t care enough to argue this point -- she’d already had this sort of discussion with Rakepick several times back in the day, and she knew that it meant Blaise was not only trying to divert the conversation, but also was absolutely full of it. 

You’re acting like this fact makes us just as bad as each other, Blaise, but it doesn’t. Even if we have some similarities in our methods, that does not make us the same. I’ve never terrorized people to try to advance myself. I’ve never manipulated or forced anyone to join a criminal organization. I’ve never masqueraded as my nephew in order to try to manipulate my niece into selling her soul and her freedom just to save him. However much I’m not perfect, I’m head-and-shoulders above you, when it comes to the moral high ground.

But honestly, there was no point in arguing with people like Blaise. It wasn’t like she’d ever convince him that everything he thought was wrong -- that Muggles weren’t inferior, Charles Cromwell was an abusive monster, and everything he and the Cromwell Clan did to try to get Carewyn, Jacob, and Lane back under their control was reprehensible rather than justified -- and she didn’t feel enough passion to try. Especially not when there were more important things happening at that very moment...

Harry would be in the courtroom by now. She had to hurry.

Although Carewyn tried to keep her face stoic, her brain was working very fast. Her eyes drifted away, off toward the far wall of the courtroom where the Wizengamot benches were lined up.

“...Look,” she said slowly, her voice becoming a little softer, “my Legilimency has become very sensitive, in this line of work. It allows me to read people’s intentions and feelings very quickly, even when I’m not actively trying to. And Lucius Malfoy...he doesn’t see you as an equal, but as a pawn.”

Blaise’s eyebrows came down over his eyes, but he didn’t respond.

“You and the rest of the Cromwell Clan only got out of Azkaban because you were able to appeal to Fudge,” said Carewyn, “but if you’re associating with the wrong people, that could very quickly sour. Your position will become uncertain again, and you won’t be able to protect them -- especially if Fudge gets the kind of control over the Wizengamot that he wants...where charges and judgments are laid down based on favoritism more than legality. We’re already seeing it with how Fudge is now treating Dumbledore and Potter, after how much he always sucked up to them. End up outside of Fudge’s good graces, as they did, and the same might befall you. I realize that you and Malfoy...”

Are Muggle-hating bigots.

“...have similar politics,” she said at last very stiffly, “...but Lucius Malfoy’s politics are far more extreme than yours, and although the courts decided there wasn’t enough evidence to prove his methods were also...we both know that’s also true. If he falls, he will drag you down with him -- and if you take the fall for his actions, he won’t lift a finger to help you.”

Carewyn forced herself to look Blaise in the eye. 

“Grandfather’s dealings with R got you all in enough trouble. You bought yourself and the rest of...our family a second chance -- something many others did not get. Are you sure you want to endanger that?”

Blaise considered Carewyn very carefully as she spoke, his blue eyes boring into hers critically. By the end, they’d actually widened.

“...Are you actually expressing concern for us, Winnie?” he asked very lowly. 

Carewyn scoffed. “Don’t misunderstand me, Blaise -- I don’t really think you all deserved a second chance in the first place, after everything you’ve pulled.”

Her blue eyes became a bit more solemn. 

“But truthfully...I’m not that upset that you were released from Azkaban. Dementors...they’re wretched creatures. I’ve seen what they can do to people.”

Her expression darkened.  

“...I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, however terrible they are.”

Something confused and almost disgusted rippled over Blaise’s face, making his nose wrinkle.

“Ugh -- and here I’d thought you’d actually weeded out that weakness in your heart...”

Carewyn’s red lips came together tightly, but she didn’t reply. The two stared each other down for a moment, before Blaise finally exhaled.

“Very well, Winnie -- you want to know why I’m down here?”

He reached into his scarlet robes and pulled out a gold chain, on the end of which dangled a tiny gold hourglass. 

A Time Turner. 

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed upon it. 

“Lucius Malfoy has expressed quite a bit of interest in my old department, when we’ve spoken,” murmured Blaise. “One sub-section in particular -- one where records of magical predictions are kept.”

Carewyn’s eyebrows furrowed. “Prophecies?”

“They are truly a fascinating thing,” said Blaise, his voice sounding rather airy. “So much value is placed on them -- too much, one could argue...just as one puts too much value on all attempts at ‘future sight.’ Alas, the section of my old department that Malfoy was interested in was not my area of expertise -- my area was in the study of Time, specifically backwards-facing. We did occasionally dip into the study of forward-facing time magic, but more in the sphere of inevitabilities -- things that evolve naturally in nature, every season -- not human affairs. Unfortunately when I was there, there was an employee monitoring the perimeter of the section I meant to enter -- I couldn’t have explored further even if I’d wanted to.”

“So Malfoy wanted you to stop by your old desk and pick up something that might help him or someone else enter the Department of Mysteries?” Carewyn asked. “Why?”

Blaise shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

“And yet you have a suspicion as to why?”

Blaise’s eyes narrowed upon Carewyn’s face, not angrily, but almost darkly. 

“I may no longer work for the Department of Mysteries, Winnie, but I cannot discuss the more classified branches of their work too deeply. That is part of the Vow I made when I first joined the Department -- it forces me to speak in hypotheticals and vague descriptions more than specific details. But I fear no random stooge using this tool to try to enter my old department, whether Malfoy or otherwise. In fact,” he added with a smirk, “I would frankly love to see them try.”

He ignored Carewyn’s critical, confused expression and pressed on more seriously. 

“You’re not a stupid girl, Winnie. I know you know what’s really going on, under the surface. Me offering assistance to Lucius Malfoy early on is merely how I intend to earn enough favor to keep my family safe, should the worst happen.”

“And what is that?” asked Carewyn.

Blaise cocked his eyebrows again. “Ask your mother. She remembers the First Wizarding War just as well as I do -- how it all started before.”

He turned on his heel and headed for the door.

“Blaise.”

Carewyn speaking his name and sharply grabbing his arm holding the Time Turner made him stop. 

“If you wish to provide Lucius Malfoy useful information,” she said lowly, “you can tell him that that employee was not there by accident.”

Blaise looked back over his shoulder, startled. Carewyn closed her eyes tight, trying to block out the intense nausea rippling over her. 

“He’s there to make sure Malfoy’s superior can’t reach what he wants,” she murmured. “There are many more, just like him, all with the same goal. It doesn’t matter when you go there -- there will always be someone there who will keep him away from what he wants.”

Blaise stared at Carewyn, his eyes narrowing in bewilderment. 

“...Why are you telling me this?” he whispered. 

Carewyn swallowed back the lump in her throat. 

“I haven’t worked with time magic like you have...but people aren’t supposed to be in two places at once. That I do know. A lot of problems have been caused by people trying to mess with time. Mum told me that once in the 19th century, a whole bunch of people’s lives were erased out of existence, all because someone messed around with a Time Turner...”

“Ah, yes, Eloise Mintumble,” said Blaise, sounding as darkly amused as a bully might upon seeing one of their usual targets wearing a particularly obnoxious dress. “Tried to go back more than a few hours and ended up changing things so dramatically that she both erased 25 people out of existence and aged her body five centuries and died upon return trip. A rather fascinating case study.”

“You’re disgusting,” Carewyn said coldly. But she got back to the task at hand, her voice hardening. “Even if Malfoy couldn’t get what his master wants from the Department of Mysteries with that Time Turner, he could still do irreparable damage with it. If all Malfoy needs is assistance, to believe that you’re helping him and for you to earn enough esteem that the Cromwell Clan stays safe...then give him the intelligence I’ve given you. Don’t give him that Time Turner.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, his lips spreading into a rather condescending smirk. “Why? Because it’s wrong, little Winnie? Because it’s illegal and immoral, and ‘not the right thing to do?’”

“I’m not foolish enough to appeal to you with morality, Blaise -- I know you don’t have any,” spat Carewyn. “I’m asking you not to do it for your own self-preservation. For the Clan’s. ...For your family’s.”

Blaise’s smirk actually slid off his face. Carewyn held his gaze as best as she could, even with how ill she felt. 

“I may not be one of those who takes turns standing watch in your old department,” Carewyn said very softly, “but Jacob is.”

Blaise’s face went rather white, and Carewyn knew she’d struck a cord. For as cruel, selfish, and immoral of a person as Blaise was, he still saw his family -- all of it -- like his personal belongings. And he “took care” of his belongings. He wanted complete control over them and, like Charles before him, he never respected them as people, nurtured them, or gave them any freedom...but Blaise didn’t want anyone touching “his things.���

The older man’s jaw clenched as a rather dark glint flashed through his eyes.

“...I see.”

His teeth still bared, he extended the hand holding the Time Turner’s gold chain and, very slowly, lowered it into Carewyn’s hand. 

Carewyn’s eyes softened in relief.

“Thank you.”

Blaise exhaled heatedly through his nose.

“Jacob always was a fool,” he growled, his voice full of resentment. “Risking his life for people like that Muggle filth who abandoned you and your mother -- ”

“Better than selling his soul and freedom to serve the person who locked my mother and all of you up like prisoners,” Carewyn shot back rather coolly.

Blaise’s eyes flashed angrily. “You will not speak ill of your grandfather, Winnie! Everything he ever did in his life was for us, including you, your brother, and your mother, and I will not have you forgetting that!”

“Crow that lie as much as you want -- it won’t ever make it true.”

Blaise seethed as Carewyn pocketed the Time Turner in her robes. Slowly, his temper cooled enough that his lips spread back out into a rather vindictive smirk.

“For the record, Winnie...Time moves in a loop. If Lucius Malfoy were to use the Time Turner after I give it to him a half-hour from now, the effects would’ve already been felt by us by now. We would have heard about someone having broken into the Department of Mysteries before our conversation even started. The fact that we are not hearing that means that he never receives the Time Turner from me. So, in fact, it was already clear that I would give you the Time Turner before I actually did -- ”

“Oh, shut your trap,” Carewyn said tiredly. Just listening to Blaise wax on was giving her a headache. “I don’t even want to try unpacking all that time travel rubbish. All I care about is that Malfoy and his ilk can’t try to mess with time, now or ever.”

She turned on her heel and strode for the slightly ajar door. Pushing it further open, she then looked back over her shoulder at Blaise. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to take care of. Stay out of trouble, or I will not hesitate to prosecute you.”

Blaise’s eyes were very cold even around his smirk. “If there’s anyone who should be warned to stay out of trouble, it’s you, Winnie. I’m not the only one who’s aligned themselves with people who could drag them down, if they fall.”

“Perhaps,” said Carewyn mildly. “But my friends will catch me if I fall, just as they have before. Just like I always catch them. That makes all the difference.”

She walked away, her heels clapping against the black tiled floor as she strode to the end of the hall, listening at the door of Courtroom Ten. She could hear several voices talking inside -- after a moment, she recognized two as Amelia Bones and Cornelius Fudge. 

“...certainly described the effects of a dementor attack very accurately. And I can’t imagine why she would say they were there if they weren’t -- ”

“But dementors wandering into a Muggle suburb and just happening to come across a wizard! The odds on that must be very, very long, even Bagman wouldn’t have bet -- ”

“Oh, I don’t think any of us believe the dementors were there by coincidence,” said a very misty, serene voice from inside the Courtroom.

Carewyn’s shoulders relaxed, even as her eyes rolled up toward the ceiling.

Dumbledore. He’d made it in time. 

Exhaling heavily, Carewyn quickly turned back around and walked briskly back down the hallway, back upstairs toward her office. On the way, she walked by Blaise, who was now deep in quiet conversation with Lucius Malfoy, and Carewyn and Malfoy coldly stared each other down as she passed.

x~x~x~x

Carewyn hated keeping the Time Turner in her desk. She wanted to be rid of the thing immediately, but she knew she had to be patient. 

Around 11:00, just before lunchtime, Carewyn asked to borrow a Dungbomb from Tonks and covertly dropped off it just outside the Auror Department on her way back to her tiny office. The resulting smell resulted in the entire floor clearing out, until someone could deal with the smell. Carewyn herself, however, stayed in her office and powered through, spraying some Muggle air freshener to try to mask the smell. 

I forgot how much I hate Dungbombs, Carewyn thought dully. Oh well...desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess.

Keeping the files on a case she was working on open on either side of her, Carewyn read through them every-so-often as she pecked away at a letter she had to write. This letter had to be concise and to the point, if its recipient was going to know it was safe and exactly what she had to do, to help keep Harry Potter from getting unjustly expelled. 

Right on time, three hours after Harry’s hearing, Carewyn’s Legilimency picked up the feeling that someone was approaching her office. A moment later, there was a knock on her door. 

The ginger-haired lawyer exhaled heavily, her eyebrows knitting together. 

“Come in,” she said. 

Although she kept her voice level, she already felt a headache coming on. She knew who was on the other side of that door -- and sure enough, when it opened, in came tall, silver-bearded Albus Dumbledore, dressed in long midnight-blue robes. 

Carewyn’s eyes hardened as the Hogwarts Headmaster closed the door behind him.

“Hello, Carewyn,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. 

“You got my message from Tonks, then?” Carewyn asked. 

“To come straight to your office as soon as I arrived, but to not let anyone see me entering? Yes. Though I daresay the evacuation of this floor thanks to the smell of Dungbombs helped with that considerably,” said Dumbledore, and his light blue eyes twinkled. “I presume it has something to do with why some members of the Wizengamot were asking what I was doing back here so soon, and why Cornelius looked even more sour at my presence than usual.”

Carewyn’s face was twisted in a deep frown as she finally took the Time Turner out of the drawer and put it on top of her desk. 

“The time and place of Harry’s hearing was changed three hours ago, with no notice,” she said stridently. “The hearing originally scheduled for 11 o’clock instead was moved to 8 o’clock at 7:58 this morning. The letter was sent by owl to Privet Drive at 7:59, right before a second letter informing Harry that because he didn’t show up for his hearing, he was presumed guilty and therefore expelled from Hogwarts. Both letters arrived at 8:52. The Order wasn’t informed of the change until a little after 9, but was also informed by Arthur Weasley that you’d had the matter well in hand and had arrived miraculously early.”

“And so they felt no need to send me any post regarding the matter,” presumed Dumbledore with a dewy smile. “But in order for all of that to have happened, I will have to go back and ensure it does happen -- isn’t that so?”

Carewyn nodded curtly as she handed the Time Turner and a sealed envelope to Dumbledore. 

“Three turns back should be enough -- you don’t want to risk changing too much, by arriving too early, and I have a closed-door meeting with Chester Davies prior to that. Give this letter to me as soon as you arrive in the past. As soon as she...escorts you out, head straight for Courtroom Ten. You should arrive just after Harry does -- it shouldn’t raise as much suspicion if you make it to the courtroom after Harry, since he was already in Arthur’s office when he first received word of the change...”

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with some mischief. “Clever as always, Carewyn, my dear. You do the Order very proud.”

Carewyn’s eyes flashed. “I’m not doing this for you or your ‘Order,’ Dumbledore, as you know full well. Jacob was completely at R’s mercy after he was expelled from Hogwarts, and I don’t want to even think about where Potter might end up, if the same thing happened to him. And if Jacob’s guarding something in the Department of Mysteries, I don’t want to make it any easier for You-Know-Who and his goons to get the drop on him.”

Dumbledore’s calm didn’t shift, though his eyes did turn a bit more solemn. “And as always, Carewyn, your cleverness is only rivaled by your caring for others.” 

Rising to his feet, the Headmaster tucked the envelope inside his robes and then picked up the Time Turner. 

“I’ll be seeing you,” he said cheerily, “or, should I say, ‘I will have seen you?’”

And with three turns, he’d disappeared.

Carewyn gave an exhausted, groan-like sigh.

“I hate Time Turners,” she muttered to herself.

x~x~x~x

When Dumbledore appeared in Carewyn’s office out of the blue at 8 o’clock that morning, the ginger-haired lawyer reacted with a lot of irritation and suspicion. Those feelings weren’t helped when Dumbledore handed her the letter addressed to her, and yet written in a hand identical to hers.

Carewyn,

First of all, yes, I know you recognize this handwriting. This isn’t a trick -- it’s just the work of a Time Turner: specifically the one Dumbledore’s holding. On that note, ask him to hand it over and then smash it. We have more than enough problems in the here and now: no sense in adding more time travel rubbish to the pile. 

Now that that’s been taken care of, let’s get to business --

The time and place of Harry’s hearing was moved just a minute ago. It now starts at 8 o’clock in the morning in Courtroom Ten. Don’t worry, Arthur’s already been notified and is ferrying Harry as we speak, but Dumbledore needs to get down there right now. Kick him out of your office, nice and loudly -- there are people outside who could overhear, and you don’t want anyone to think you and Dumbledore are on good terms. Which, fortunately, you’re not. 

Now that Dumbledore’s out of your hair, let’s go over what you need to do -- 

Blaise has sneaked into the Ministry, specifically the bottommost floor near the Department of Mysteries, on Lucius Malfoy’s direction. No, Blaise isn’t a Death Eater -- just short-sighted and self-serving as ever. The point is that he has a Time Turner on his person, which he cannot be allowed to walk away with, under any circumstances. You’ll be able to catch him leaving the Department of Mysteries if you go downstairs in the next fifteen minutes. He’ll be meeting Lucius Malfoy around 8:30, in the middle of Harry’s hearing, so don’t let him walk away without getting that Time Turner away from him. Don’t come at the issue straight-on, though -- you can appeal to Blaise to give it to you willingly. Just keep him talking. Once you have the Time Turner, you can hold onto it until Dumbledore arrives in your office at the time that was originally scheduled for Harry’s hearing, so he can use it to go back far enough to arrive at Harry’s hearing on time. 

I know, this Time Travel stuff is absolutely bloody ridiculous. But at least this way Malfoy won’t be able to use the Time Turner Blaise stole to cause even more havoc. 

Burn this letter as soon as you’re done reading it. We don’t want anyone coming across it. 

Good luck. 

As for Dumbledore himself, he arrived at Harry’s hearing right on time, all according to plan. 

“Ah,” said Fudge, who looked thoroughly disconcerted. “Dumbledore. Yes. You --er -- got our -- er -- message that the time and -- er -- place of the hearing had been changed, then?”

“I must have missed it,” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done.”

[thelastpilot]

Oh, Good Morning. -Adrino One-Shot 3k

Different way, different place, different time. Same story. 

While not inherently connected, the first version (of a different tone) was here

Oh, were you gonna finish that?

‘Hey’

That’s all it would take, but it seemed completely insurmountable for some reason. It was the act of taking a distant stranger and maybe putting a name to his face and his commute and his odd jackets and his seemingly unflappable belief that cold weather was for other people. It would be crossing the street and taking some random guy firmly from the safety of anonymity and making him someone when Adrien had already gone to great lengths to make him someone else, someone too far away to embarrass himself in front of.  

Just some guy at the bus stop, behind a pane of glass, a café patio and two lanes of a street, waiting to go to work. Just like every single day for the past five months.

Yeah see that was another hurdle, how long its been, because now certainly it had been way too long for Adrien to do anything now when he hadn’t done anything before. Wouldn’t it break the routine now? For ‘that guy in the café’ to actually cross the street and say something to him like a person?

Adrien set his cup down a little rougher than he needed to, sighing in an entirely self-produced frustration.

He sat up, stretching his back against the wooden back of his usual chair, made bulky by his thick coat left hanging from it till he felt brave enough to go back out into the cold again (after the bus passed, obviously. He never left beforehand, which frustrated him, again.) His table and chair and coffee weren’t all really his but there was that silent agreement that came from a usual routine that the world kind of respected. Sometimes someone else might be in his seat but for the most part Adrien got to spend a few minutes every morning warming his hands on an okay cup of coffee before he went to work, sitting in the same chair in the corner next to the window facing the street.

He used this place because it had been the closest to his apartment, and because it was warm on the inside and on his way to the metro. And because the prices were fine… and because of a bus stop. Well that last part hadn’t really been a thing at first, not that it was anything really but it was a factor against Adrien trying the new coffee shop that had opened just below his apartment.

He had argued to himself that he liked his usual place, with the warm seats and the familiar smell of over-roasted coffee and the quiet hum of a radio left on in the back. It was a standard place that sometimes kept him fed or at least kept him awake, and the owner already knew his order so it was easier to just stay, probably.

Adrien looked down, pulling at his sweater a little as he moodily glared at his coffee. It was no better or worse than it usually was, but in the moment he kind of resented it for not being outstanding. If it had been a fantastic cup of coffee, the best cup of coffee in the city then he’d have a little bit more of a justification for always sitting right there, right near the window, with his great morning cup of coffee. It would be a reasonable way to start the day, instead of glancing out at the street, waiting for another habitual commuter to make his bus on time.

Adrien looked to his right, peering through the window and watching the foot traffic, annoyed with himself again. He was annoyed because he actually needed to be at work early today, but he wasn’t going as early as he could because he was actively waiting for him, which is what made this stupid. Just some guy he saw every morning. Smiling at and waving to him is one thing, but actually being late because of a guy he’s never even talked to? Pathetic.

…

Still hadn’t left though, he noticed.

 Adrien glanced over the street, watching people in thick dark colored coats and scarves hurry to where they needed to be or cling to warm little shops like his. His café was more populated then usual this morning, some people just standing in the doorway for a minute to check their phones.

It wasn’t bitterly cold, it wasn’t snowing or anything, but the chill was still enough to make his okay cup of coffee a little more appealing. The streets were light and anyone around had a destination in mind, it was not the kind of morning for milling around.

It was a morning for commuters.

Adrien stopped, his eyes catching on someone as they turned the corner. He was looking down, but Adrien recognized the familiar backpack and leisurely walk right away, and he nearly smiled before he noticed the hoodie.

It was cold, but here he was again in a thin, dark grey hoodie like he always wore. It was one of his more usual items regardless of the weather, but he never adjusted. He didn’t even have a scarf, the only mark that maybe the cold was getting to him was that he had swapped his hat for a beanie, but Adrien was frowning anyways as the man made his way to the bus stop.

 Adrien’s morning, nameless companion found his seat at around the same time he always did, every morning. He would show up at the stop about 10-15 minutes early, lounging on the bench by himself most of the time since the street itself was pretty small and they were far off from the center of the city, and then wait patiently for his bus to arrive so he could go, presumably to work. This was an assumption, as was everything else about him, seeing as Adrien had never actually spoken to the man. The only connection they ever had, was at about this time every morning,

Where he glanced up and across the street.

 Adrien froze, a little caught out to have already been looking at him, like he had been waiting. But it was too late to glance away now, to play with his phone or drink his coffee to pretend he had otherwise been occupied. The man had already seen him.

The stranger smiled, his white teeth a stark contrast against his dark skin as he adjusted in his seat, moving his backpack to sit beside him as he usually did though he did not break eye contact. His dark rimmed glasses were low on his nose, and he pushed them up to maybe see him a little more clearly though there was a distance between them. Details were always lost, but Adrien could see that his hair was sort of a mess this morning, and he was entertained by the thought that maybe the switch to a deep red beanie was actually because his hair looked ridiculous, not because he was actually cold or anything.

He was a broad shouldered, tall man (fit too, as Adrien had learned when the weather was still warm), his outfits always changing but staying within the same range of simple t-shirts, jeans and ill-equipped jackets. He also always had his headphones on him, sometimes around his neck or sometimes already being listened to, playing some music genre that Adrien had to guess at, with no real clues or indications.

He always wondered anyways though, even if he could never know for sure if he was right or not.

Adrien lifted a hand to give him a small wave, smiling too as they greeted each other. The bus stop guy gave him a wave as well, settling in to wait now.

Adrien knew he only had a few more seconds to drag it out if he wanted to, knowing that once he glanced away they would return to their own spaces. So before he could, Adrien gestured down, raising an eyebrow (a small enough expression that he wasn’t sure if it would read across the street) and then he reached behind him, drawing the mans attention to Adrien’s own warm jacket.

It was small and quick as Adrien kept smiling, but it was easy to ask without words ‘What are you wearing? Aren’t you cold?’

The man paused, looking surprised before glancing down, one hand pulling at the pocket of his hoodie before he looked up, shrugging, both hands up as if to say, ‘I don’t know, its fine.’

Adrien just shook his head, taking a sip of his okay coffee and was happy to see the man laugh. He couldn’t help but smile into his cup as he watched him.

He was surprised to see that the man kept watching him too for a moment, still looking his way as he took an extended drink. A few cars passed between them, the street cold and distant and filled with other people they might have seen every day. Maybe all these dark jackets and blank faces were also daily commuters, ducking into cafes and businesses and making this street as much their space as anyone else’s, but neither of them knew for sure.

They’d never paid attention to the others before.

Adrien only realized he was stuck in the moment when the man finally glanced away, looking down at his phone. It occurred to him that he should probably look away as well, turning towards the interior of the café without really seeing it, frustration steeping again as he realized his daily ‘conversation’ was now over.

That’s what he waited for? A smile and a wave hello, a point of contact shallower than small talk. But he would rather he had it then gone early; he knew that.

He fought the urge to sink into his chair, knowing the man could still see him if he looked up (which he did sometimes), but he couldn’t help but lean over his cup a little, staring down at it. He tried to talk himself out of harassing himself, and he also tried to talk himself out of getting so attached to a familiar stranger, but neither ever got him to move.

He was frustrated by a handful of things about all this

He was annoyed by the fact that this was about the best he ever seemed to do when it came to meeting people these days. A non-negative association at a great distance with very little risk, how exciting. He used to be more social, so he thought, a little better at making friends and putting himself out there. But after a few scattered heartbreaks and a handful of missteps he found himself staring at a dark, slowly cooling cup of coffee wondering at how bad he was at this. He liked to think he was bold enough to cross the street, to finally put a name to a handsome face and maybe say something charming.

Maybe buy him a cup of coffee, maybe ask what he did for a living.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. But no, never. Least, not for about five months in a row now.

He grit his teeth, looking in at the café counter, looking in towards the tables and the decorations and the few dirty plates people had left behind. He looked in, and away, and then out the window, his expression still heavy as he hardly made it a minute without looking.

And he froze again, the man already watching him.

Adrien stiffened, noticing immediately that the man wasn’t smiling. A car passed between them, but neither of them took the opportunity to look elsewhere, and Adrien was stunned to see the man make a gesture of his own.

He pointed forward, right at Adrien across the street and across the patio and through the pane of glass, still looking at him with an expression too subtle to see from this far. And then he touched his index finger and his thumb together in a circle, the other fingers fanning out above it, the message clear and simple.

‘You okay?’

Adrien was frozen stock still as he took in the question, and the concern that came along with it. He must have been obvious, his spiraling thoughts displayed in his posture somehow… and the man noticed. He must have been staring the entire time, not having lost the silent conversation Adrien had been mourning, holding on to it still and waiting for him to look up again.

To make eye contact so he could ask.

Adrien felt his face heat up as he gripped his coffee cup tighter, embarrassed suddenly and unsure of himself but not looking away, the man tilting his head just slightly, waiting for an answer of some kind. But it wasn’t something he could or even would try and pantomime in these weird distant talks they had, to explain what even? It was nothing, but the familiar stranger still asked, and still stared, even as another car darted between them and blocked their eyeline.

He had to admit it was sort of exciting, which was exponentially more pathetic and insane. Being even remotely delighted that the man reached out again just made this dumb exercise even worse, but he accepted that he was just too invested to ignore him.

So after a long, silent moment, as all their moments were, he shrugged. Exaggerated enough for the man to see, but his annoyance with himself forced his eyes down, and the moment ended.

He didn’t look up again, sighing so heavily that it sent a ripple across the surface of his coffee.

Maybe he was being hard on himself, but the fact that a handsome stranger’s concern was the closest thing to an intimate moment he had had in two years was a little discouraging. And it was just the kind of cold, lonely morning for that sort of thing. Overanalyzing everything over an okay cup of coffee.

He closed his eyes and sighed again, running a hand through his hair as he let the chilly morning finally claim his mood. His early start at work slipped steadily away and he committed to loitering, though he wondered if the man was staring still. Over the next three or so minutes he resisted the urge to peek, feeling a little too much like a loser to allow his little morning routine, but his resolve wavered at about the fourth minute. By then he had reasoned with himself that oh well, you’re already lame, just look. The difference a minute could make.

When he glanced up his heart sank a little, confusion filling the empty space on the bench. Adrien sat up a little and scanned the street, the man’s seat unexpectedly vacant despite the fact that…

Surely the bus hadn’t come. He always heard it, the bus wasn’t exactly quiet, especially not on such a little street. Honestly it was a miracle it even came down this way, holding up everything whenever it did, but of course he was grateful that it was there. It was never a very crowded bus and obviously not a very popular line, but that’s where the stranger sat. So he liked that it was there.

His moping couldn’t have drowned that out, but still the man was gone.

He stared at the spot unabashedly now, looking around for him and wondering where he went. To work, maybe, as he should do. But didn’t.

The cafe door opening sent an uncomfortable rush of cold air into the space, all of its higher-than-average volume of patrons leaning away from it moodily, not that Adrien looked. He had settled the weight of his head on one hand, staring out vacantly towards an old, empty bus stop. He lifted his cup and took a long drink, resolving to leave once it was finished, when quite suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a tap on his shoulder.

Adrien jumped a little, not expecting someone from the outside world to come breaking into his, cup still half raised to his lips as he turned. The first thing he saw was a hoodie, having not nailed the eyeline on the first glance. He still wasn’t quite up to the persons face by the time they started apologizing, their voice deep and a little nervous sounding as they laughed through their “Sorry! Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Adrien was staring at his face as the tall stranger continued to ramble, as if the momentum of his sentence gave him no place to stop and the words would bunch up and fall apart if he hesitated. The stranger mussed with his hair as he did, displacing his deep red beanie. It was old, Adrien noticed. With a snag near the edge.

He wondered when that might have happened. Or had it always been there, and he had been too far away to notice.

“I know that maybe this is a little weird,” the man was saying, the unexpected bass tone to his voice rattling pieces of Adrien’s mental image and sorting others into place. “Maybe I’m breaking some like cardinal rule like, you’re never really supposed to engage you’re just supposed to exist like, parallel to each other forever and you never say much. Or anything. But I don’t know maybe I’m not maybe there is no rule and I just made that up cause I overthink a lot. And I know it’s sort of simple and I know I’m gonna like, miss my bus, but you seemed kind of down and um…,” the stranger paused,

and Adrien noticed for the first time that his eyes… were nearly gold.

He laughed, just a little, and like nearly an afterthought, like introducing himself seemed unnecessarily to someone he really didn’t know but had just become so familiar, he gave an awkward little smile.

“Well uh, hey.”

   And just a little out of breath, just a little.

He said, “Hey.”

 It’s you.

[wackygoofball]

Gwenspiration: The Wacky Version Vol. 3 - The Moodboards

So, here I go again parading myself and tooting like there is no tomorrow.

As people still brave enough to follow me on Tumblr will know, I do a lot of moodboards, or at least I call them such. Others call them collages or storyboards or pictures with random text. Either way, for me, moodboards became a neat tool to somehow capture story ideas not yet anywhere near a level that I could write fic about them - or serve as inspirations for fics I am actually writing.

And it gives me opportunity to hoard unhealthy amounts of Gwen and Nik pics, in the name of moodboards. And science. And stuff. Whoozah!

So yeah, in this post, I want to share some of my personal favorites. A lot of them actually, because I can’t decide, really.

I will start off with a group of moodboards which took inspiration from the Marvel universe, since the Marvel universe was my gateway into the more active parts of fandom.

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An all-time fave is the Iron Man AU... I mean, what not to love about a JB AU with Jaime as sassy Tony Stark and Brienne as the not-taking any shit from you army doctor, am I right? But yeah, seriously, Jaime *is* the Tony Stark of the GOT universe, and I can’t be convinced otherwise. And neither should be you.

Also, the Iron Man suits just totally fit the color scheme for both, which made creating the moodboards all the better for me. Jaime and Brienne were made for armor, now in medieval or modern times, let’s not kid ourselves.

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Another Marvel fave has got to be Captain Westeros. Because if there is a female GOT Version of Steve Rogers, it’s gotta be Brienne of fuckin’ Tarth. This one is really close to my heart because it gave me a lot of feels coming up with plot bunnies for it, and the tragedy of those two people missing each other in time over and over again, always trying to protect one another, only to end up on opposite sides because of the machinations of others... *sigh*

And I mean, one guy loses an arm. The other is blond and strong... I don’t make the rules but this delivers me enough material to re-imagine this as a JB AU... so yeah, I do kinda make the rules after all. Anyway.

Since I realized that this post’s gonna get even looooonger, I decided to make a cut here and put the rest below, so not to have you scrolling for five hours.

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Although it’s not the most popular moodboard amongst my followers (you brave people, I can’t parade you enough for staying through the madness lol), I really, really love that Fantastic Four moodboard and the concept behind it. And I just know a lot of effort went into making Valyrian Steel Brienne, which took all of my three computer editing skillz brain cells. But yeah, here again, I liked to play with the idea of them not admitting to their love until shit hits the fan and then they hide behind that because... drama, angst, feels, pining, yadda.

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And we go from Marvel to DC little quick. Because Brienne is, most certainly, a Wonder Woman. Nuf said.

Now, let’s move on to other big movie franchises that give me all the JB feels:

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Jurassic Park (aka Valyrian Park) evidently holds a special place in my heart because JB fighting dinosaur-dragon hybrids and kicking ass while being disbelieving about what was bred out in Valyria thanks to some certain someones to rescue Brienne’s adoptive daughter Arya is just... a thing? For me anyway.

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More down memory lane, I don’t know how often I watched the LOTR movies, suffice to say it was a lot a lot. We had the extended versions DVDs of the first two and basically it was the one thing to watch when nothing was on (which was the case a lot). Either way. JB in MIddle Earth long after the days of Frodo et al. - why? Because I just loved the idea (and aesthetic) of Jaime as a ranger and Brienne as a knight of Gondor working in disguise. And Hobbipod. I mean, Pod as a Hobbit. Come the fuck on. And Tyrion as an asshole wizard. What could possibly go wrong? This moodboard was very time-consuming as I had to do a lot of edits (pointy ears, tiny up people, smudge Brienne’s face on a lot of Boromir and Faramir images, smudge Jaime’s face on a lot of Aragorn images, you name it). So yeah. No matter its popularity... I dig it. Despite not having read the books yet (I know, shocking), I continue to ogle at the idea and go like: Must. Write. But. Must. Resist. Either way. Mood.

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So yeah, I grew up watching these movies a lot, too (I grew up watching a lot of TV, period). And when Gwen was cast as Captain Phasma, I got a lot of JB juices flowing as a result. Mehe. I found it was a fun idea to play with, to basically *kill* Phasma so *Brienne* can come into play and assume her identity. And a rundown Jedi!Jaime who’s lost faith in himself and everything else safe for his partner in crime/resistance is just... I needz. So you gotta cope with it. I still adore this concept a lot even if others may not. :)

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This one’s just... gah. Feels. And I really liked the color scheme lol. And I watched Horse Whisperer A LOT. Because of feels. And horses. And Honor is a horse and he deserved better than be barbecued at Highgarden, dammit.

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The No Reservations AU definitely has to be in this post because I live for this dynamic. Brienne taking care of the girls, not knowing how, though, constantly doubting herself while always trying to be perfect and composed, not just in life but on the job as well. And Jaime being the laid-back guy who’s just a darn good chef but may carry his own baggage of problems that keep him from his happy ending story is just... mah jam.

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This one was a lot of fun to do because you don’t really think about Erin Brockovich when you say Brienne of Tarth in terms of character. But when you scratch away the boob jokes and the differences in where they come from, what you find are two hard-working women who fight for justice, so I found that close enough. And it was excuse enough for me to go down the lane of biker!Jaime because... dayum.

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Music and Lyrics is an all-time guilty pleasure romcom of mine. It’s so light and easy and I kind of love how everyone is basically a bunch of awkward losers. All the more perfect for Jaime as a singer (we need that in our lives after the infamous video Nik was in to sing to us about global warming...) and Brienne as the unexpectedly gifted songwriter. What I like about the moodboard per se is how the color scheme turned out because it’s all warm and bright and... makes me happy.

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Very much in contrast to the former stands this one. I still love the overall mood of it and I dig the story idea because I dug both The Prestige and The Illustionist because they presented something dark yet very different, which made it all the more appealing to put into a moodboard for me. While not the most well-known moodboard of mine, I keep going back to it time and time again to basically lust at all the illusions and magic and drama. And blue butterflies.

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What is there not to love about a Pacific Rim AU for JB, am I right? Right?! JB ain’t just compatible when it comes to the Drift, yo, that’s all I’m gonna say. Reasons why I like the moodboard a lot is that it’s very different, flashy colors, gigantic robots, and I was mostly alright with how the edits turned out. It is tough to get images that fit the angles, yo.

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Jumping back in time once more, I really adore this one even though it’s not one of my popular moodboards. I dug the fusion of elements from Cinderella Man while granting Brienne as the female lead more space to develop as a character and make her a badass sniper nurse who is about to get her doctor’s degree. And Jaime doing anything to make it work because he owes her a debt (and his love) by boxing his way to their shared life is just... nice.

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Another supposedly lesser known moodboard is this one, though I really adore it for its premise and the amount of work I put into it (all the giffing and moodboarding). I also found use for that image of Gwen with what looks like the veil of a nun, which was probably what had me inspired in the first place lol. The plot bunnies revolve less around Se7en and more the novel El ùltimo Catón (2001) because it has a nun solving a mystery revolving around Dante’s works. But Se7en gives us the Seven, which is a delicious parallel too hard to ignore. For me at least. If only I knew how to write crime, dammit.

Now, to  move more into the serial (smooth transition from serial killer to serial TV shows, I know, I know) way of life, here is some moodboards inspired by TV shows (although some have since gotten movies which I also took inspiration from... yadda):

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Childhood memory galore. I spent many weekends watching The A-Team with the whole family. When the movie came out, I was happy about the feels it gave me (and the “you spin my head right round” scene still cracks me up more often than it should). Either way. I found it absolutely necessary for Jaime to be Face, for Tyrion to be Hannibal, for Bronn to be B.A. and cuss at everyone and everything and Brienne giving us the strangest genderbend of a Howling Mad Murdock. It added some angst, which I always need because I am a thirsty hoe for it. In case no one noticed yet. Ha.

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This one is very remotely inspired by The Bletchley Circle and the Imitation Game (because both feature encryption and one features Charles Dance already, yo.) I just really dug the idea of Brienne being so good at this because she is such a straight thinker but being underestimated because “she a woman.” And of course her not being done just encoding messages but getting into action, very much to the dismay of the stupid soldier wanting to defend the bae from harm. What could possibly go wrong? Right. A lot.

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Then. Elementary. Let me count the ways in which I love that show... ALL THE WAYS. And I really dig it as a JB AU. I have so many thoughts and feelings, I can’t even begin to tell you. I especially had my fun basically making Jaime Sherlock without making him really Sherlock because that guy was the one who taught him how to be an investigator before disappearing and fucking up his life for bad. And Brienne as the army doctor turned sober companion turned private investigator turned love interest is just too delicious to ignore.

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Pants down I mean hands down, this may be the actual favorite (currently) amongst them all for the plain reason that I also grew up watching that series and still watch it and keep obsessing about it. Ever since Discovery launched and has since given me both joy and grief, I found myself intrigued by the premise of a JB Star Trek AU where Brienne would be standing *with* the Klingons during the war around the time Discovery takes place, and Captain Jaime Lannister having lost far too much to this war already to truly trust anyone, even less so a woman who ran to the Klingons, for what it seems.

You would not believe how many ideas I have for a fic based on it. You wouldn’t believe that I basically have a sequel to that fic already in mind. And you would definitely believe, knowing me, that I am nowhere near writing that fic. But a fangirl can dream and moodboard, right? The moodboard was such a fun way of going about it, not only for the edits but because I could sneak some secret Klingon messages in there. :)

Now, on to the last part, which are the moodboards not inspired by movies or TV shows primarily but really just spewed out of my wacky, wacky brain:

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This has a special place in my heart because it combines military and the traumas it comes with for JB and.... the aesthetic of farming. And both finding a kind of peace they didn’t know they were looking for as they struggle to adjust and find their way back “to normal” after the horrors they have both seen in war. And did I mention the aesthetic? And Jaime in plaid? All dirty and sweaty? Do I have to say more?

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Why this one? Because it combines angst and romance and falling in love twice because DESTINY. And paintings. I love me my artist AUs. So that was my go at it, combining it with the “mystery” to be uncovered about what history Jaime and Brienne actually share as he tries to put his memories back together.  Also. This moodboard gave me opportunity to try out new filters and create JB paintings. :)

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This one’s gotta be on the list since I also added the Horse Whisperer. Now it’s Dog Whisperer Jaime and Brienne who won’t give up on her dog who’s seen some shit in the warzone (as did she, but Brienne will put it all aside for her doggish best buddy, of course). While it’s not a very popular moodboard of mine, I really enjoy the premise of it and how the dynamics can so easily change between the two of them if you see it in comparison to the Horse Whisperer AU. Also. I just really think Jaime is a total pet person.

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Another lesser known moodboard, I’d assume, but I really dug the premise of it (still do), and it was intriguing to do some edits to make Jaime’s hand *truly* golden lol. With people having developed strange mutations which aren’t nearly as much fun as they are in Fantastic Four AUs. What I liked about it was the idea that Brienne would have a kind of mutation/ability that links to the mind, since she is such a physically strong fighter that she may rather rely on that than on her own mind, fearing that she cannot control that with discipline the same way she can train her body with it. What unites the two is their strong wish to protect the people in their care, in a world on the verge of collapse forcing two unexpected allies together (okay, I totally expected it, but they didn’t). Either way. Much love for this one. :)

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Aaaand the last one (not of all the ones I made but the ones I picked for Gwenspiration). I really, really, really adore this one because I was so happy with how the aesthetic turned out and how the colors all match. And I dig the premise. Like holy moly do I dig it deep. Jaime and Brienne both serving in military, but on different fronts, and almost accidentally ending up writing each other letters? I mean... the PINING. And Brienne having to decipher Jaime’s chickenscratch. Yeah no, but for real. I just love the idea so much. That they are both committed to the cause while also yearning for a home, for peaceful times, for sweet, sweet love. And them meeting up and acting like stupid teenagers, only for drama to keep hitting because. It’s eh me angsty Wacky.

Either way. I dig the premises of a lot of my moodboards (in fact... basically all of them or else I wouldn’t be making them, I guess). I spared you listing all of them, though I listed a whole damn lot already. Moodboards are an awesome means for me personally to visualize and (re-)imagine. And since quite a few people seem to continue to be onboard with them, I am all the happier to keep making them.

That’s all for today.

Much love! ♥♥♥

*flies away*

[artisticestheticreads]

Wishing

IThis is an one shot inspired by my last post. It is about Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens who goes back to Oakland after being in the Navy Seals and celebrates his 27th birthday at the local club, seeing something, more like someone, he likes. This contains angst and some light SMUT smut.

Friday, Feb. 9, 2016

    It was a chill night on the birthday boy’s birthday. He planned on staying and play 2K like he had been since he got back. He sat on his couch in a pair of black and red basketball shorts and and a white long sleeve shirt that covered his marks with gold rim glasses on. He grabbed his cup of ice cold Sparkletts water playing the game in one hand. He finally made a three pointer right when his phone rung; he paused the game and answered. “Yo, this E”. 

   “WASSSSSSSSSSSSSUP”, his friend, Jae, yelled making Erik laugh. “What up, my brutha”, he asked. “Aye, man. What we getting into tonight?” Erik chuckled and said “I ain’t gonna do shit. You already know how I am when it comes to my birthday. Nah, I’m good”. He all of a sudden heard a knock on the door; it was Jae when he opened it. “What the fuck you mean you ain’t gonna do shit? Its yo 27th birthday and they poppin at the club right now.” Erik folded his arms and said “first off, watch who you think you talking to and second I don’t feel like doing shit”. He flopped on the couch and looked through his phone. “Man, E. Yo ass tripping. Look at you. Sitting up here with yo PS and phone on hand tryna find some bitch to fuck when you can easily go out and get yo dick wet.” Erik rolled his eyes and kissed his teeth. He sat there thinking and finally stood. “Ight, man. Where we going?” 

“The Boom Boom Room”.

“Nigga, it sounds like it seems like cans of bounce that ass and unpaid child support. I’m good, ma g”, Erik said with a straight face walking to his bedroom. “No, there is some fine ass females and I KNOW yo ass love some black women, man.” Erik stopped and rolled his neck thinking ‘damn, they are my weakness’. He kept walking before he closed the bedroom door, he said “give me thirty minutes.” Jae clapped his hands in excitement and made his way downstairs. Erik had his dreads braided back with a fresh long sleeve black tee, dark blue jeans and leather combat boots on. He grabbed his phone, keys and wallet before locking up; they were on their way.

  Once they got in, it was actually a nice setting. Red lightening, huge bar and matching dance floor with Future’s Low Life playing. Erik looked around at all the women around; brown, light, caramel galore. He looked to the bar, at Jae then motioned for them to make their way. He strolled through the crowd passing through all the beautiful women and smiled to himself. I can get used to this, he thought. “Let me get a Jack and Coke on the Rocks” he asked the male bartender; he nodded and started to make the drink. Jae ordered the same and placed his debit card down opening a tab. 

    “Thanks, man”, Erik said and patted his friend’s back. “Aight, aight. I gotta request to play this for Trisha from her secret admirer. This Bryson Tiller with..” The DJ played Don’t and before you know so many women were singing off key that made E and J laugh. E got his drink and began sipping when he looked over into the crowd and saw a brown skin woman with maroon shade box braids down to her behind in a nice white tube top matching skirt and white go go boots that made her short curvy frame, tall and appealing. She was swaying her hips to the beat while lip syncing the lyrics.

“Girl, said he keeps on playing games And his loving ain't the same I don’t know what to say-ay but What a shame If you were mine you would not get the same If you were mine you would top everything Suicide in the drop switching lanes And that thang so fire baby no propane Got good pussy girl can I be framed To keep it 100 girl I ain't no saint But he the only reason that I'm feeling this way Giving you the world baby when you get space Playin' game get me laid, baby let's penetrate oh baby.”

   Erik raised his brow slowly as he sipped from his cup and with half a smirk watching her carefully. The way she moved was like a magician which a watch dangling in front of him, hypnotizing him. When she turned, all he heard was “Y/N Y/L/N, get yo cute ass over her girl.!” She smiled, excused herself from her large group of friends and made her way to the men. She reached them and said “waddup, Jae. How you been, baby boy?” She gave him a big and he said “aw, y’know me. Trynna keep my ass outta trouble and what not. Who told you ass to look like a nice cup of chocolate milk, huh?”

“Bwoy, bye. I look good as hell. I got so many niggas in here approaching me and shit, it ain’t even funny.”

   Jae looked over at Erik and can tell he was in LaLa Land mentally drooling. “Aye, guess who back.” She looked at the man Jae was pointing at and asked “E? It can’t be.” Her smile warmed him up and he said “wassup.” She gave him a big hug with her arms around his torso and he placed his cup down on the counter. He placed his hand on her lower back and said “damn, a lot has changed, huh kid?” The last time they saw each other, it was their high school graduation. She went off to school in New Orleans where her father is from and he went to MIT, far away. She had a retainer in, with her natural hair slicked back in a ponytail and all. She was a little small thing but her woman curves came in. Back then, they were close friends, first kiss and also first sexual experience, ever. 

   Y/N rubbed her hands on his back and took in his cologne before adding distance between them. “How you been”, she asked with her hands behind her. “Been aight. What about you, love?”

“Been here and there. Just trying to save the world and all.”

   Jae added “yeah, Miss L/N been kicking ass at her firm sending all those cops to prison for life”. She dusted her shoulders off and said “I know they deserve it but its not gonna bring back all those people that lost their life for be ‘while black’. We lose our lives every day and some in other places end up getting away with because they ass wear a shiny badge. Nah. Not while my ass is around.” Erik smiled and nodded thinking how she was still the smart bad ass the he fell in lo-”

    “Y/N”, a male’s voice said coming towards them. He wore a turtleneck with black slacks and dress shoes with a light skin complexion. Jae said “aw shit. Here he come” in a whisper as he sipped more from his cup. “Who that”, Erik asked, she looked to him and said “my fiance”. He mentally was taken back but nodded in real life. “Hey, baby”, her man said and looked at the fellas. Y/N looked away and rolled her eyes. “Donald, this is Erik Stevens.” Donald looked to him with his right hand out and said “nice to meet you, brotha.” 

“You too, man” E shook his hand then looked at her. Donald looked at Jae with a stern look. “What up, Jae?” Jae looked away and said “Sup, nigga.” Donald chuckled and asked the bartender “lemme get a round for my lady’s bachelorette party”. Erik looked down at her confused and shook his head. Donald looked at her and said “I’ll be waiting for you at the table. Don’t take too long, baby girl.” Y/N looked up to him and nodded as he placed a kiss to her lips and made his way to the group. “What kinda nigga shoes to his girl’s bachelorette party”, Jae asked and Y/N folded her arms and looked around. “An insecure ass nigga”, Erik said with a straight face looking at her. She looked at him and half smirked. “Let us buy you a drink and let that nigga wait” E said. She smiled and ordered a Jack and Coke on the rocks. 

THIRTY MINUTES LATER

    The club was jumping and Erik, along with Y/N was feeling just right dancing a rapping along to some throwback music as the lightening got darker. “So what up with that nigga? He ain’t yo type at all, ma?” She shrugged, running her fingers through her braids. “We met my third year at school and I guess we hit  it off.” Erik spun her in a circle, holding her close. “Y/N L/N, you telling me you in love with this nigga”, he pulled her body into his and spoke in her ear; she nodded. “Nah, I need to hear it.” 

“I love him”, she said but Erik chuckled adding vibration to her back. “Aight, girl. Yo ass lying like a muthafucka and I can tell.” He wrapped his arm around her waist as the beat to Wishing by DJ Drama plays. Erik pelvis began to grind against her and he swore she can hear a light moan from her. He got in her ear and began saying the lyrics.

“Baby you know who I am and girl I know just who you are We ain't gotta rush into shit 'cause being in love is too hard I'm tired of all these flashing lights, girl we should just fuck in the dark Once you let me in it, I'mma get to switching, different positions Have that ass wishing that I was your nigga Wishing that I was your nigga, yeah yeah yeah Wishing that I was your nigga, yeah Once you let me in it, I'mma get to switching, different positions Have that ass wishing that I was your nigga.”

    She lied her head back on his shoulder blushing slightly. Erik smiled down at her then to the table where Donald sat at alone; that’s when he got the idea. He took her hand and made their way into the ladies bathroom. “E, what are we doing in here?” He looked down at her and said nothing. She waved her hand in front of his face and he grabbed it pulling her whole body close to him. “Y/N, tell me you’re in love with him” he said as he sat her on the counter with her legs apart and him standing between them. “E, I”. She looked in his eyes as she felt his hands on her thighs. “What? What was you gonna say, baby girl?” His hands went up her thighs, pulling her closer as they were chest to chest. “Erik, I am.” Erik shook his head, laughing and she asked “what so funny, huh? What? You don’t believe me? You left me here alone for so long. You was my best friend, Erik. And you know that shit.” He stood back and said “you think I had a fucking choice, Y/N? I got accepted to the best school for me and I became a fucking Navy Seal. The fuck was I supposed to? Stay here?”

    Y/N looked at him and folded her arms getting off the counter. She started to remember when he left, no kiss, not thing. She wanted to be with him but he pushed her aside. Ignoring her. She felt neglected and hurt. She had to get over him because if she didn’t...boy oh boy. “FUCK YOU, ERIK!!! YOU LEFT ME ALONE KNOWING I WANTED TO BE WITH YO DUMB ASS!!!!! I WANTED YOU SO FUCKING BAD BUT YOU PUSHED ME AWAY. I WAITED FOR YOU AND HERE I AM THINKING YOU WOULD AT LEAST GIVE A BITCH A CALL BUT NO!!! NOT A FUCKING THING. I WAS NOT AND I MEAN ABSOLUTELY WAS NOT GONNA WAIT FOR YOU.” She pushed him off and made her way to the door but he used his strong arm to push it closed looking at her. He stood there frozen. Only his eyes moved up and down at her frame then he slowly walked close to her but she stayed in place.

    He looked down at her and asked “fuck me? Nah, don’t say that shit because you don’t mean it, ma. You think I didn’t wanna stay. We both know for sure if I did, I would end up dead in the fuckin’ streets. Is that what you wanted for me? Dead?” She got quiet like he thought he would. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Look, Ima be 100. I love you, girl. But you know what I’ve been through. Everyone I loved left me. I didn’t want you to be the next one. But I guess it’s too late.” She looked to the ground and he got the message so he walked away. “E”, she said his name and he turned saying “what’s up”. He turned to see her looking at her with black lingerie panties in her hand. 

   “Show me how much you love then”, she said and he marched to her saying “yes, ma’am.” He lifted her body up and placed her back on the counter. He dug in his wallet, grabbed a condom placing it on and stroked himself looking at her. He slid inside her slowly and was amazed on how wet she was. “Damn, you tight as fuck. Either, you ain’t fucked since we did or that nigga ain’t hitting it right.” She smiled while she moaned and moved her hips to match his thrusts. “Fuck, Erik. I missed you so much”, she said holding onto his wrists. He kissed her ankle and said “I missed you too baby.” He picked her up and started to hold her thigh as she bounced down on him multiple times (^like in the gif above^). They looked into each others and started to think about their first time together. They remembered how it was to feel each other for the first time. They realized they needed each other more than anything. 

   The moment was so intense and passionate that they almost missed the door knob turning. Erik made his way into the stall and Y/N sat on his lap still; her back to him and still clenching his dick with her walls. “Y/N, you in here”, her friend asked. She looked back at Erik, cleared her throat and said “yeah, I’m fine. I’ll-I’ll be out in a minute.” She began bouncing again slowly making Erik’s head lie on her back and biting at her back with his grill. She smiled and her friend said “okay, well Donnie looking for you.” Y/N said “k” to dismiss her friend. Once they heard the door, she pulled her skirt up more and Erik pulled her top down to feel her breasts and hard nipples. “E, Ima come. Oh My God”.

“I know, baby. I can feel that shit. I’m almost there,” he groaned and whispered into her ear. She can feel her cream coat his member and held him closer. “I love you, Erik. Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby. Damn, girl.”

    They moved together as one and then h held her closer while she soaked both of them; afterwards he came into the condom. They sat for a few, catching their breath and laughing.  He got up with both of them and remove the condom discarding it in the trash. “E, I really did miss you.” 

    “I’m here now, baby girl. And I ain’t going no where, aight? I swear.” He washed his hands and stroked her chin before placing his lips on hers. He fixed her up as she giggled, situated himself and took her number into his phone. She looked around and when she bent down to grab her undies, E held them in his hand. “Nah, ima keep these. When did you stop wearing granny panties?” She smacked his chest and they both laughed when they approached the door but soon the smiles were gone when they saw Donald and her friends standing there with Jae smiling big at them. Jae said “daaaaaamn, y’all was going at it. All I heard was cheeks clapping and shit.” Erik kept his eyes on Donald as Y/N asked “what’s up?” Donald folded his arms and said “a little birdie told me that you ran off for a little session.” She looked back at her so called friend and played flicking her off looking like she was scratching her face. 

    “So you love him, right? So who is gonna be? A hood nigga that left you over his own selfishness or a real man that was there for you?” 

“The fuck you just called me”, Erik getting into his face. “I bet you won’t say that shit again.” Donald was about to push him when Y/N got in the middle. Erik looked him in the eye with an evil smirk and asked “so, who is it going to be baby girl?”

“Yeah, who”, Donald asked looking at Erik as well.

  She held their chests still and looked in between them. For some reason, she was stuck, frozen. She closed her eyes and said “I choose...” She looked at Donald then at Erik, took a deep breath and ....

@muse-of-mbaku @im5ftbutmythroat66 @chaneajoyyy @melanin-samii @theunsweetenedtruth @doux-ciel @unicornluvin8765 @vikkidc @wakandantings @thadelightfulone @mzamethystp @simbiann @tropicalsun10 @babydoll756 @notoriouslynay @vminax @quinsly @pinkdemolition @quietstorm-73 @chaoticcashfancroissant @bugngiz @chocolatedippedinhoney @yafavcocoa @lostgalaxies

[theparaminds]

A new face in music, Binki is exactly what many have been looking for but have been unable to find. His style contrasts a stark relaxation in sonics with an introspective understanding of lyrics and emotion.

An theatre student, Binki truly understands what it takes to connect with an audience, what it takes to express emotion honestly and how to be a truthful soul within sound itself. His first song, Marco, does so perfectly, reminding us of youthful innocence and the troubles that come with it.

In his first interview ever, Binki tells us of his baggings and what it took to make the jump into music, as well as has upcoming move to New York set to put a lot into focus. 

PM: First question as always, how’s your day going and how have you been?

It’s been pretty uneventful. I had to go to court earlier for this speeding ticket, but other than that I've just been cooling. Later I’m gonna go jam with my buddy though.

PM: For those who don’t know, who is Binki? What does he represent and what is his vision?

Yeah I'm pretty sure nobody knows me! Binki was actually my nickname growing up, not really sure how it came to be, but it stuck. I recently decided to release music as Binki to remind myself to not be too self-serious with my music. I definitely care about what I'm doing but if it's not fun then what's the point? Overall though, I want to make music that connects and makes people days easier.

PM: What was the spurring moment that really told you to start releasing music as opposed some odd demos here and there?

A few things, but my brother played a big part in it all. He would always gas me up when I showed him a song he thought was good. I always had desire to go full tilt with the music but I always held myself back. I was in school studying theatre and acting for the past 4 years; and I had it in my head that I couldn't do both for some reason. I thought people wouldn't take my acting seriously if I had this music career on the side. But life's really too short to not do the things you love. There's also plenty of people who have done both successfully. It was really just fear.

PM: Were there others around you inspiring you to push into musical ventures?

Yeah, there's definitely a "house show" scene at the school I went to. I was definitely inspired because I wanted to be a part of it and perform. I also really enjoy live music. I didn't have a band though, and it's really hard to get people excited to hear some random dude perform over an instrumental.

PM: To move a little back to the past, what did your environment and location look like growing up and how did it manifest into your sound and style?

Suburbs as fuck. I spent my early years in Hershey, Pennsylvania. A lot of white people and not a ton of culture. I wasn't miserable though, I had a lot of friends and I was outside playing most of the time. My brother put me onto a lot of stuff growing up, but in highschool I kinda veered off into my own lane. I remember this girl I had a crush on showed me Pink Floyd, which spiraled into me listening to a lot of classic rock. Then in college, I watched this Jimi Hendrix documentary, which is no longer on Netflix unfortunately. But after that, I started learning how to play guitar. I don't know though, the internet kinda changed the way everyone consumes music and other people's culture. I feel like it's super valuable for artists who might feel like they're in a bubble geographically. I'm moving to NYC in like 2 weeks though so we'll see how that changes things.

PM: What’re some of your fears and aspirations with living in new york? What is it you hope to find in the city you wouldn’t find anywhere else?

It's actually just starting to hit me that I'm moving to NYC. It's something I've always wanted, feels a bit surreal. I guess a fear would be that the city will just expose me as a talentless hack and I'll have you move back to the burbs. Or that it'll take me 20+ years to make it. I'm really not afraid of much at the moment. I feel like a big part of being successful in any field, especially creative endeavors, is just being bold enough or naive enough to think you have something to add. So many people give up before they even try. My goals are pretty nebulous at the moment. I really just wanna connect and collaborate with talented artists. I'd love to perform my music in some capacity, that's been the mission for awhile. NYC represents opportunity in my mind. There's an energy. If you live there, you might inherently have it. If you move there you're looking for something, and you gotta be driven to survive there. I'm looking for that energy.

PM: On the topic of the music itself, how have you come to develop your sound over time? What changes are you working on and improvements as time goes?

Most definitely still developing my sound. I think the best thing has been working with different people. The same way you communicate with other artists if you're having a jam. I think my writing changes when I'm exposed to different sounds. I never understood when artists say they only listen to their own music when they are creating, I can respect it, but I feel like I'd lose my mind if I tried that. I take pieces from all of my favorite artists, but it's all filtered through me so it's always gonna sound like me. Going forward I just want to keep taking risks and remain ambitious. I'll always want my music to be enjoyable. Not commercial necessarily, but I don't want my music to live in a bubble where only a select few enjoy it. That said I really want to do a concept album at some point, something along the lines of My Beautiful Dark Fantasy.

PM: What is about the concept album that you love and why is the idea of making one appealing to you as an artist?

When it's done well, it adds another layer to the music. Also albums are just in a strange place right now. I really hate this trend of artists releasing 30+ songs and calling it an album. Something really cold about it. I think concept albums, and more ambitious video projects, show a different level of passion. Even when done poorly, I'm like: “okay there's intention behind this.”

PM: What’re some of your personal ambitions and goals going forward? Do any include live shows?

The biggest one is to just put out music that I'm proud of. There will be live shows in 2019. I'm kinda just speaking that into existence but it can't be that hard right? Even if it's just like 20 people, that'd be tight. I'd love to go on tour eventually. Also more videos! My brother and I made the video for "Marco" in like 48 hours with no plan. So we just want to keep getting better and stay consistent.

PM: Tell me more about that Marco shoot, how did come together and how did it conceptualize through the day?

So I called off work and drove down to Atlanta, we started just shooting random bits around my brother's apartment complex. Then we just bounced around the city starting at a museum, then a park, and we ended at dance party. It was a super fun day, it felt like we really had something. The next day I said we should get a shot of me falling in a pool. Totally inspired by the 'Untitled' video by Rex Orange County. I didn't think we'd get any shots of me underwater though because we were shooting on an iPhone. My brother was like "I'm pretty sure this is water proof." I was like, I don't know man but we ended up just going for it. We got the shots and then his phone died. He plugged it up to charge and then the screen started glitching and shit. I was so hurt man, I thought we lost all the footage, but like thirty minutes later it started working again and we transferred everything to his laptop. It was wild, I'd never seen a phone come back to life after something like that. After that shoot, everything kinda shifted for me. I was like "oh, I can really just do this shit." Been riding that wave ever since.

PM: That’s an amazing story. Do you have a best memory of the last year, if it’s possible for you to pinpoint?

When I went to NYC in March. That was pretty dope, but to be honest, I feel like releasing Marco might be the highlight. The response has been wild. This Russian YouTuber put it on his playlist and now there's a bunch of people in Russia playing my music. Crazy. It's one thing for your friends and family to support you but getting support from strangers, people with no stake in my well-being, is the best feeling. I don't know if I've ever felt that to this extent.

PM: And as a final question, if you could recommend one movie to everyone reading currently, what would it be and why?

Well my favorite movie is "Superbad," but I feel like everyone's seen that right? So I'll go with "Rushmore." The main character in that movie is full of contradictions and on the surface he's pretty shitty. But you root for him, and you understand why he is the way he is by the end of the film. I feel like the world is lacking empathy right now. It also has Bill Murray in it so that's a plus

PM: Do you have anyone to shoutout or anything to promote? The floor is yours!

Yeah! shouts out to Chasen, Justin, and Sam for helping me make this shit. Also big shoutout to Raymond & Jerry! And check out "Marco" if you haven't yet!

Follow Binki On instagram 

Listen on Soundcloud and Spotify

[deivll]

lucifer sentence starters ↳ episode 1 -- 3

i like to punish people too.

are you trying to bribe me?

it's only money

.you break the law sometimes, don't you?

it feels good to get away with something, doesn't it?

go on, take it. buy yourself something pretty.

you little devil.

shouldn't you be spending your valuable time doing something more significant?

don't know. don't care. not my problem.

he will not be merciful for much longer.

you're famous, aren't you?

did i sell my soul to the devil?

with all the good came a hell of a lot of bad.

so the devil made you do it, did he?

i suggested you work with him, not sleep with him.

oh god, i'm a mess.

what happens now -- that's up to you.

what did you do?!

why did you end her life?!

there's gonna be a lot of attention on this one.

do you know the shooter?

like to play cop, do you?

i just like to play in general.

now, don't you think that's interesting?

immortality. of course. you spell that with one or two M's? i always forget.

what will your corrupt little organisation do about this?

will you find the person responsible? will they be punished?

you've got some balls on you, pal.

i could swear i've seen you naked. have we had sex?

someone out there needs to be punished!

what is this, a wedding or a kidnapping?

it's hard to be rejected, isn't it?

i'd kill someone if they denied me. not that that's possible.

did you want her dead?

i am not playing that mind game with you.

i really don't want to have sex with him tonight.

i have narcotics for him.

can someone please turn down this god-awful music!

without the blues, there'd be no devil's music whatsoever.

you're being clear alright. if you're looking to get yourself killed.

i didn't kill her!

people sometimes kill people with whom they're in love. the heart's mysterious.

girl made me crazy!

welcome to the party!

i have far too many bullets in this thing for you to still be talking.

what do you desire more than anything else in this life?

you're not like -- a jedi or something, are you?

i know something you don't know.

well, they're threatened. you're clearly smart and have notable instincts.

i don't think you're allowed to smoke in here.

that's a hooker's name.

i don't know whether to laugh or to shoot you.

are you at all aware of how dickish you sound?

i wouldn't recommend it. i'm like walking heroin.

i tend to appeal to the dark, mischievous hearts in all of you.

you seem oddly immune to my charms.

truth be told, i find you repulsive.

did you roofie her?

my word is my bond.

what's your deepest, darkest desire?

you wouldn't want any nasty secrets screwing that up for you though, would you?

god, you are a terrible liar.

despite your proclaimed revulsion, you can't deny that there's a connection between us.

i made her, and she ruined me.

i'm gonna punish you.

back off, you freak!

he needs to pay! he needs to suffer! he needs to feel the pain, not escape it!

i don't want to die.

why aren't you more dead?

you're having a very hard time with the immortal thing, aren't you?

i'm pretty sure i'd be dead if you hadn't helped me, so thank you.

you know, you're far too interesting to let die.

i think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

i'd stay for the family reunion, but it's giving me terrible IBS.

you scared i'm turning my back on the dark side?

you wouldn't want to start a war.

i look forward to eating your heart one day.

have you seen the face of the devil?

i'm willing to work within your metaphor.

i'd kick a puppy if one waltzed by. i'm joking. puppies don't waltz.

i'm gonna figure out your secret.

i guess we both have our mysteries.

i'll show you mine if you show me yours.

if i don't affect you, i'm curious as to what does.

if you desire something, just take it.

you're not gonna get away with this. i'm gonna make sure of it.

what are you hiding?

are you really gonna try and prove his innocence?

sorry, do you want a hit?

it's 'puff, puff, pass', not 'puff, puff, stomp angrily.'

you brought pot to a crime scene?

i'm sure there's some stragglers we could get into trouble with, huh?

it's called a devil's threesome for a reason.

if you've come to lecture me, can you just save it for later? i'm annoyingly sober right now.

you must have done something salacious in your youth.

i'm not gonna tell you anything.

i don't want to know about the case, so you can keep your dirty little secrets.

i've seen the hatred in her eyes when she looks at you.

i just did everything i could to keep others from making the same mistakes i did.

who are you protecting?

i was hoping for sexy, salacious details, and i instead i got taken on a trip down depression lane.

don't you dare disrespect me.

you will not speak to me this way!

am i interrupting some creepy foreplay you two have?

we all know what the road to hell is paved with, don't we?

they don't give out pulitzers for nip-slips.

if it's any consolation, you look really good in it.

you don't decide who gets punished and how.

let's go deliver some punishment.

you're a necessary evil.

i'll kill you, you crazy bitch!

you both get a gun. let's see who shoots first.

what's to stop us from shooting you?

you're interrupting my punishment.

you're lucky i figured out your insane, ironic punishment before anyone got killed.

you tried to do some good. to help someone. don't throw it all away.

i thought i'd use you to remedy a situation that i've mishandled and annoy you in the process.

you know exactly what i'm asking you.

didn't mean to hurt you.

i hope the guy who hurt you got in lots of trouble.

i'm so very used to being in control of everything.

i doubt he'll be able to string two words together right now, much less have a conversation.

what happened to you?

i can't get away from him!

what's the worst that can happen?

you could learn a thing or two from this guy.

you are in desperate need of my help.

i mean -- you are like a four-leaf clover and a unicorn made a baby.

i've met your type before. so desperate to control their lives that they forget to enjoy it.

this is the fantasy life of a postmenopausal housewife.

i want to get laid so damn bad.

i very much beg your pardon?

i'm freaking out, okay?

i need that favour.

thanks for being super-cryptic in a really unhelpful way.

we've got a murder on our hands.

you forget that my expertise is finding the right people to punish.

so there's a bona fide killer on the loose that needs to be punished.

haven't i proven myself extremely useful at detectiving?

i don't want to be stuck out here with these miscreants.

you call watching porn on your phone useful?

i wish i'd never met you.

the person responsible is still out there.

i just want to make sure that you're punishing the right person.

this place is built on lies where nothing is authentic or genuine.

i'm gonna tear him limb from limb.

your anger toward this minor inconvenience feels a little disproportionate.

we need to ask you a few questions.

i don't think the plan was to kill you.

i think they wanted to scare you.

you're like two pathetic peas in a pod.

someone must've hired her for this.

if your problem's that stick up your ass, i'm afraid there's no one strong enough to pull that out.

am i up for encouraging someone to commit a nefarious act? put me in, coach.

your professional reputation has taken a bit of a dive. as has your sexual one, i'm afraid.

just sit tight and we'll all get what we want.

you know who you're messing with?

you've certainly been a busy bee, haven't you?

it seems you're a bit of a two-pump chump.

please don't hurt me -- please.

i'm not gonna hurt you. i'm going to destroy you.

see, that's why i don't lie. it's so hard to keep track of who knows what.

i still don't understand.

if he left me, i would be ruined.

she didn't want to go through with it.

i'm finally focusing my anger where it belongs.

but you know what? you, uh -- you stayed good to your word.

you are crazy. but you're my crazy, you hear me?

are you too egotistical to acknowledge my help?

i think that's why you're here. to reinvent yourself.

i told you, i'm good at punishing people -- nay, i'm the best at punishing people.

[frankiefellinlove]

Return of the Native The Aquarian , September 23, 1978 By Mike Greenblatt

We’ve been sitting on a bench facing the ocean near the Casino Arena in Asbury Park. It’s 45 minutes past our appointed meeting time with Bruce Springsteen and we’re trying to light matches in the wind. It’s past 1:30 now and we’re wondering if he’s going to show up. Hell, it’s a beautiful sunny fall day, one of his very few days off from a grueling whirlwind tour of the country. And it’s his birthday to boot. Maybe he just ain’t gonna show.

But we’re determined. We’re prepared to wait for two more hours. Then, if he’s still not here, we’ll split. We’ve already tired of scrutinizing all the faces for something that will tell us it’s him in disguise. We forgot our quest and go back to the matches.

“Hi”, he says as he walks right up at us. “Sorry I’m late, I just got up.” He’s dressed in a blueish work-shirt and jeans. He has ever-present sunglasses on. We decide to break the ice over lunch.

Settling into a booth at the Convention Hall Coffee Shop, I order a BLT, photographer Sorce, a cheeseburger, and Bruce, a hamburger, french fries and coke.

“Yeah, we had a real rep”, Bruce starts to say. “We could draw two, maybe three thousand people on any given night. We played our own concerts here and also down south. It’s weird. Nobody would ever book us because we never did any Top-40. Never. We used to play all old soul stuff. Chuck Berry, just the thing we liked. That’s why we couldn’t get booked. We made enough to eat though.”

The waitresses are starting to mill about the table so Bruce puts his shades back on and hushes up his tone. “The other night was amazing”, he wispers. “I went to see Animal house, and when I came out of the theater there was a whole bunch of people that started following me to the parking lot. I wound up signing autographs for over an hour.”

“Anyway, after a while the kicks started to wear off and a lot of the time we didn’t make enough to eat. That’s why i signed with Mike (Appel). Anything was better than what was happening at the time.”

Little did the local rocker know that this early signing with Mike Appel would result in the latter claiming rights to the early material Springsteen had written. The rest of the courtroom drama is famous. Perhaps generously, Bruce had nothing bad to say about his former manager.

“He did a lot of good for me at that time”, he says, dipping one particularly long french fry into a mound of ketchup. “He introduced me to John Hammond (CBS bigwig responsible for signing Dylan, Aretha Franklin, Billie Holiday, Bessie Smith and others). He helped me on that first album”. He pauses as if he were ruminating on something. “I haven’t seen him since that day.”

“Actually, I was pretty shielded from the whole thing”, he continues. “Mike put the onus on Jon (Landau), claiming he was the culprit.”

I ask: You mean he charged Landau with stealing you away from him?

“Yeah, sort of. I was never good at the business end of things.”

Asked about the famous line Landau wrote for his Real Paper review (“I saw rock and roll future and its name is Bruce Springsteen”), Bruce says, “That line is misrepresentative of the whole review. It’s funny. The review was nothing like that one line. It got taken out of context” - another myth shattered.

“I remember playing in a club where an earlier review that Jon wrote was splashed all over the outside wall. I was leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, when Jon practically bumped right into me. I had never met him. We hit it off right away.”

“When asked if he ever gave up during the long months of inactivity, Bruce still remains bright, completely devoid of bitterness. ” I knew that it was just a matter of time. We were playing almost throughout that whole episode even though we weren’t supposed to. I mean, what kind of law is it that is written specifically to stop a man from doing what he does to make his money?“

“The only real frustrating thing which did cause me grief was the fact that my songs weren’t my own. I didn’t own my own songs. That hurt.”

But that makes it all the more satisfying now. At Nassau Coliseum, thousands of kids screaming their guts out for him before he even played a song. They didn’t let up until he finished, drained and exhausted. At the Capitol Theatre, two nights before, he was surprised onstage by a giant birthday cake out of which a scantily clad girl bounced. He swears he didn’t know a thing about it (“I even told John Scher no cakes”). At Madison square Garden, 18,000 fans leaned on every note as if it were the last they would ever hear. A gala party was held for him in the plush Penn Plaza Club located deep inside the bowels of the Garden. Security was the tightest I’d ever witnessed.

We paid for the food and split for the beach. The conversation continued amid the sea, the wind and the hovering presence of the Casino Arena.

“I’m into a little photography myself”, Bruce says as Sorce adjusts his light meter. “I took some pictures of Lynnie (Lynn goldsmith, photographer) that were published somewhere.”

When asked about his other interests, Bruce talks of softball. “Yeah, we used to play hard. we had to stop, though, when Clarence and myself used to get too battered up. We’d go on stage all wracked up and it would hurt. After a while, it got too important and too many people were into it. There’s no softball on this tour. What else do I like? Hmmm, I’ll tell ya…not too much besides music. Right now, music is it. I don’t care about anything else.”

We get back to talking of copy bands and the difference between making it with your own material and making good money playing copies. I tell Bruce I had to play “Shake Your Booty” to get booked anywhere.

“Shake Your Booty?” laughs Bruce, falling into the sand. “That’s a great song. KC, man, he’s great! He always comes out with those repetitive things. Over and over and over, that kind of stuff is great! It’s like the ‘Louie, Louie’ of today.” Later on, in talking about what is written about him, he says, “I have Glen (Glen Brunman, CBS publicist) mail me everything that’s written about me. Hundreds of things, man. I read them all at once. That way I can get a pretty good perspective on what my press is like, rather than reading one thing at a time.”

“Near the end of Darkness, I wasn’t doing any interviews”, Bruce continues. “Then I did them until I noticed myself saying the same things to different people. There’s only one answer to each question; you don’t want to lie to these people. I really had myself in a spin. And each interview was a multiple interview situation with two or three people at once. I guess the problem was that I did too many of ‘em.”

Walking off the beach, we talk of the Garden shows and his stretcher routine, whereby he sings himself silly until he has to be taken off the stage in a stretcher, only to break free and grab the microphone again until he’s forcibly restrained from the stage.

That’s a great routine. Where’d you get that from? I ask. I know that professional wrestling has a stretcher routine where the good guy gets beat so bad they have to carry him off in a stretcher and the bad guy always kicks him off of it as it passes by. It’s classic.

“No”, answers Bruce, “I didn’t even know about that. We got it from James Brown. He used to get himself so worked up that the bassist led him offstage wrapped in a cape. He’d throw the cape off his shoulders and come running back to the mike stand some two or three times. It drove 'em wild. So that’s where we got the idea for the stretcher routine.”

Sliding into the front seat of a borrowed '78 burnt yellow Camaro, Bruce at the wheel, we’re on our way to the neighborhood where he grew up in Freehold. Shoving a cassette into the receptacle, he says, “A fan gave this to me outside a concert once. it’s real good tape.”

He turns up the volume, guns the motor and shifts into second. We take off. He turns up the volume a little more and starts looking for “Hello Mary Lou” by Rick Nelson. “This song has one of the greatest guitar parts ever on it.”

He can’t find the tune and settles for oldies like “If You Wanna Be Happy For the Rest of Your Life (Never Make a Pretty Woman your Wife)” and “Blue Suede Shoes”. He shifts into third.

Now for the first time, we do not talk. The music is loud and damn appealing. The windows are down so the wind is whipping furiously into the car. He shifts into fourth and takes off.

We’re rolling now. We settle uncomfortably behind a slow driver. He checks his rear-view mirror and roars past the driver. Seeing another slow-mover right ahead, he stays in the opposite lane and passes two in one fell swoop before settling comfortably back on the right. From the back, Sorce lets out a soft “Whew!”

It’s great moment. Chuck Berry is wailing out with “Maybelline”. Bruce is going faster. It’s such a fuckin’ beautiful day. The wind is rushing in and Bruce is feeling good, snapping his fingers, clapping his hands and letting out with a hoarse vocal or two on the last line of each verse. “Hello Mary Lou” finally comes on and suddenly everything is crystallized in one magic moment - the speed, the music, the sun, the wind, the company. Jeezez Christ! We’re rolling down the highway with fuckin’ Bruce Springsteen at the wheel! And he’s driving the way you would think Bruce Springsteen would drive.

Later, when we reach a light, Bruce impatiently waits on it before saying, “This is what we used to call a 'quarterback sneak’”“, and with that he takes off surreptitiously past the red light.

We’re in the old neighborhood now. Bruce drives slowly down Institute Street until he reaches the right number. It’s been painted now. "I lived here all through grammar school. There’s a Nestle’s factory near here. Man, when it rained we smelled that stuff all day long.”

The elder Springsteen would go to work in the morning, come home, go to sleep and wake up and go back to work at the factory. “I guess there was other things he wanted,” Bruce reflects.

We get back into the car and drive over to the factory. “Both my grandfather and my father worked here. It used to be a rug mill in the old days, but for some reason it ran out of business fairly quick. I was pretty young at the time.”

When I ask about high school, Bruce clams up. “It wasn’t exactly the best time of my life because I didn’t graduate with any of the others. It was a rough period.” I could see he really doesn’t pursue this avenue too long so I drop it. But I wonder what mystery is veiled beneath this wall of secrecy.

We get back into the car and tear out of there. Ironically enough, the tape Bruce shoves into the machine this time is an old Animals cassette. The first song could be a forerunner to much of the music Bruce writes. As the opening line comes out of the speakers, the dusty factory is just fading from view…

“In this dirty old part of the city/Where the sun refuses to shine/People say that there ain’t no use in trying/My little girl you’re so young and pretty/And one thing I know is true/You’ll be dead before your time is due, yes you will/See my daddy in bed ad night/See his hair a’ turnin’ grey/He’s been working and slaving his life away, yes he has.”

The song is, of course, “We Gotta Get Out of This Place”, and it was a fitting omen as we drove off.

As we drove, Bruce starts reminiscing. “Yeah, I lived in practically every single town around here, from Atlantic Highlands to Bradley Beach. We used to move quite often.

"That’s where I had my very first gig,” he laughs as we pass a mobile setup. Looking out of the window, the 10 or 20 mobile homes facing us look worn and old. “The gig wasn’t bad…for our first job.”

Hey Bruce, are you gonna show up at the Capitol again like you did last year on New Year’s Eve? I ask him. It was announced earlier in the week that Southside Johnny & the Asbury Jukes would again party away the year in such grand fashion. Bruce turns around and answers, “I don’t know where I’m gonna be on New Year’s Eve.

"C'mon, I’ll show you where my surfin’ buddies used to live,” he says, changing the subject. We swerve sharply off the highway onto an exit. “This used to be a surfboard factory,” he says. We step out of the car near a small white building.

“Yeah, me and a fella named Tinker lived here for a year and a half, in one room. All the rest of this area used to be nothin’ but sand dunes.” He points to a huge expanse of stores, houses and construction. “None of this was here.”

“They used to make the surfboards downstairs. Tinker and I, we had a ball. Just one room! Two beds, a fridge and a TV - the rest of the room was filled with surfboards.”

“Since I was from Freehold, I was considered inland. All these guys used to surf every day. I was friends with 'em all but never went. Finally, they got to me. One afternoon they were merciless. They just kept taunting me and kidding me about not surfing that it just sorta got me riled. I grabbed a board and we all headed out to the beach.

"I must have been some sight surfing for the first time, but I’ll tell you something - I got the hang of it pretty quick. Hell, it ain’t harder than anything else. It’s like riding a bike. I haven’t surfed in awhile. Now that’s something I’d love to do. As a matter of fact, I think I will.”

He seems resolute.

He continues: “This guy Jesse taught me the finer points of surfing. We used to stay in North End Beach in Long Branch all the time. Some guy owned the beach so we had the use of it for almost two whole years. We’d be there every day. We’d stay on the beach, go in the water. It was great.

"This area is really amazing. There’s really poor neighborhoods and then there’s real nice neighborhoods all in a five-mile radius.

"I used to go to New York a lot back then. I played at the Cafe Wha? a lot in '68. I used to play there with Jerry Walker’s old group, Circus Maximus. Let’s see, I played the Night Owl (all these places were in the West Village). They had a lot of good bands there at the time - the Raves, Robin & the Hoods. Let’s see, the Mothers of Invention were playing all the time in that area and so were the Fugs.

"I didn’t go to too many concerts then. I much preferred playing and jamming with these people. There was a whole 'nother scene taking place over in the East Village that I wasn’t part of at all - the Fillmore, the Electric Circus. I think my first experience seeing a rock star was going to Steve Paul’s Scene and seeing Johnny Winter. That was really something. I remember between sets, he came out and sat at the very next table from me and my friends.”

Let’s go back to Asbury, I suggest.

Asking Bruce if he’d take me back to the old Upstage site where he held court almost every night, he gladly obliges and we get out of the car again in what could be termed downtown Asbury.

“I gotta be cool,” Bruce chuckles. “I ran out of here without paying the rent.”

We walk over to the site, which is upstairs from a shoe store.

“I lived here while Greetings From Asbury Park was being made. I slept in my sleeping bag on my friend’s floor for a good portion of that album.”

Bruce poses for pics while people pass by right and left. Surprisingly enough, nobody recognizes him (or if they do, they keep on walking).

“I’m lucky in that respect. What happened in the movies the other night is a rarity. Usually, I don’t get recognized. I don’t have that instantly recognizable feature that a lot of other people have.”

Yeah, like Frampton’s hair, I reply.

“My folks had already moved to California,” Bruce remembers, “and I was out of high school by the time I got to Asbury.

"Upstage was a great place for us to play. We played here an awful lot.”

In answering questions about his immediate future, Bruce says, “I have one more day off before we finish the tour. Then I have a whole month off before we start up again. In February we go back into the studio for work on the next album. I’m hoping it will be out by next summer.”

Just for the record, the tour ended officially in Atlanta on Oct. 1. It started in Buffalo on May 23. The new tour starts (possibly in New Jersey) on Nov. 1 and finishes by Dec. 20. If the time it took to cut Darkness is any indicator, then number five will be lucky to hit the stands by the summer after next.

The just-finished tour took in 70 cities and 86 shows in four months and eight days. That’s why Bruce has to be listed as a “great guy” to do up an afternoon on one of his rare days off. Another highly impressive thing is that he spent the whole day without the protective cradle of a publicist’s presence. Rarely have I done an interview without the artist’s publicist in tow.

In talking about the current LP, Bruce says, “The guy who took the cover shot for that album is a friend of mine from south Jersey who works full-time in a meat market. The shots were taken at his house. He’s a great photographer.”

Bruce’s only comment about the self-destructive syndrome (dope-money-power) affecting so many rock stars is that “they let all the other things become more important than playing. Playing is the important thing. Once you forget that, you’ve had it.”

Bruce, obviously, hasn’t forgotten that. He’s been having fun with music since the start. Bruce Springsteen is the perfect assimilator of many styles - Chuck Berry/Stones/Elvis/Buddy Holly/ Dylan/Little Richard/Animals. His image on stage is also an amalgamation of many images - Elvis/young Brando/James Dean. Somehow he melds all of these influences into one cohesive framework for his own strikingly original material. The man is all that he has devoured musically from the time he started listening to music, and it all pours out of him every time he steps on stage. “That Elvis, man,” Bruce says, “he is all there is. There ain’t no more. Everything starts and ends with him. He wrote the book. He is everything to do and not to do in the business.”

If Elvis Presley is Bruce’s prototype then Bruce, himself, is the focus for a lot of envy and speculation. We all have fantasies - Bruce included - of making it big and living as stars. Well, Bruce is living the ultimate realization of that fantasy right now. He’s made it through all the bullshit inherent in such a proposition. He’s doing it. And doing it in style.

Yet if you talk to him, he’s quite humble. Ask him what part he played in the writing of “Because the Night” and he’ll tell you that he only wrothe the title line (although he admits he will probably put it on his next album.)

Seeing him so close up and listening to him speak makes one realize that, although not articulate, there is a certain aura about him. A certain intangible. His charisma is the well-worn persona of the working man. His handsome/beautiful face could even make the transition to the silver screen as a prophet of the proletariat. His facial features are tough, yet there’s a certain hardness to him. You’d swear he’s Italian before you’re told of his Dutch descent.

His enthusiasm is real. The moment when Gary U.S. Bonds came over the car speakers with “Quarter to Three” - that’s when Bruce really started to groove. The song is in his encores in most of his performances. He still loves the original and still sings along with it when it comes on.

The essence of rock and roll can be distilled into a performance that a fella by the name of Bobby Lewis did on American Bandstand many years ago. Lewis performed “Tossin’ and Turnin’” on the show, lip-synched it, and drove the small television studio crazy with his slips and slides. Host Dick Clark did a never-before-done-thing - he, in his madness of the moment, screamed for Lewis to perform the same song again. The sound man cued it up and Lewis went back out onto the stage and really tore into it this time, twisting, turning, giving it all he had. By now his lip motions were completely out-of-synch with the record being played, but it didn’t matter. It was a piece of rock and roll heaven. And one, I’m sure, Bruce Springsteen would have enjoyed.

[amaraspen-blog]

Fireworks

Part Two

I woke up feeling better than I had yesterday. I guess I needed the extra sleep.  It was time to get moving so I could have everything at Tammi’s by noon. I wasn’t ready to get up and moving. If it wasn’t for all the food I had to bring, and knowing Tammi would drag me out of my house; I would gladly stay in my house. Today would be a perfect day for getting cozy in my bed and watching movies, alone. The kids were coming with me, but if I didn’t go they would easily make other plans.

I dragged myself from my bed before the thought had a chance to settle and entered the walk in closet. We were supposed to hit ninety six degrees. I needed something comfortable that would keep me as cool as possible. Shorts and a tee were appealing but I finally settled on a yellow floral sundress. The material was thin without being too see through. There were knee high slits on both sides to give me some movement from the form fitting garment. I opted for a quick shower. After lotioning my body with cocoa butter it was time to tackle my nest of hair. There were more than a few gray hairs but not more than that. I twisted the front crown back and pulled the rest into a low ponytail. I looked in the mirror and was pleased with the result. The yellow complimented my chocolate complexion. At almost fifty years old I looked good. I loved my size sixteen frame. A few extra pounds in the right places and little cushion where abs should be, but I earned it. Jordan loved my wide hips and thunder thighs. He spent many a night with his head resting on my lap while we watched TV. My facial features were accentuated by my ponytail. Large almond eyes and naturally curly lashes. Eyes the color of wet cinnamon. In this heat there was no need to put on any makeup other than lip gloss. I applied a wine gloss to my full lips. Satisfied with my appearance, I threw on sandals and was ready to go.  

“Are y’all almost ready?” I called out to my children. “Remember I need to have the food there before other guests arrive.”

“I’m almost ready, but Dany was hogging the bathroom this morning.”

“Hey perfection takes time.”

“Maybe you need more time then.” Brandon teased.

Malik strolled up looking like he walked out of an Old Navy ad. Button up linen shirt, khaki shorts and boat shoes. “Looks like you both need more time. I’m ready Mom.” My oldest baby wasn’t a baby anymore. His slim six foot four inch frame still towered mine at five nine. I could always count on him to be responsible. Sometimes to the point that I had to remind him to enjoy his youth. At twenty five he should be having fun. He had completed his bachelor’s degree, was working in IT earning a decent amount of money. He needed to be dating. It probably didn’t help that he lived at home. Don’t get me wrong, he could afford to have his own place but thought it was better to stay after Jordan passed.

“Malik, can you start loading the car for me?”

“No problem Mom.”

“Thanks honey.”

“No problem Mom.” Danyel mocked.

“Dany, worry more about being ready.” I cautioned.

“I’m just putting earrings on. I’m ready.” This girl had on cut off shorts, tank top, an oversized cardigan and gladiator flats. She was six feet and all legs. Not to mention a head full of wild shoulder length curls and a full face of makeup. Visually there was a lot going on. Looking at her you wouldn’t guess we were headed to a backyard barbeque.

Danyel was my free spirit. She was an art major in college. She was living the college experience and dating a lot more than I wanted her to. I had to remind myself to guide where I could and let her develop into the person she was meant to be. At one point she was talking about studying abroad next semester, but who knew if she was serious about it.

“Good, help your brother.”

“Brandon, are you ready?”

“Yes ma’am.” He shuffled his way out of the jungle he called a bedroom, almost tripping over a shoe. He wore his high school basketball jersey, black basketball shorts and slides.

“Do you ever wear anything that isn’t sports related?” Danyel judged, shaking her head is disgust.

“Hey, I like what I like.” Brandon shrugged and walked off. I truly hoped his sense of style would change in the future.

Thirty minutes later the car was packed and we were on the road. Tammi stayed about twenty minutes from me.

Tammi didn’t give us a chance to stop the car before she was walking outside.

“Bout time. I been waiting on you.”

“Malcolm, she been sippin already?”

“You know how she is.” We joked. Malcolm was the opposite of his wife. Tammi was the life of the party, and Malcolm a lot more mild mannered. They had been married almost as long as Jordan and I. Tammi and I met freshman year and had been inseparable ever since.  

We unloaded the car and started setting up the backyard. Spending the 4th of July had become tradition for us. We normally alternated locations, but I hadn’t really felt up to participating the last few years. I gazed at all the pictures hanging on Tammi’s walls. So many memories and good times. My thoughts drifted as I went down memory lane.

“Don’t think about it, Renee. This is supposed to be a party and you were happy when you got here.”

Sigh. “I know. It’s just…”

“It’s just nothing. It’s been 3 years, you deserve to live. He wouldn’t want to see you living like a hermit.”

I know it came from a place of love, but she didn’t understand. “You’re wrong Tam. Remember he used to joke about haunting me if I tried to move on.”  Oddly enough that memory brought a smile to my face.

Tammi laughed at the memory. “He sure did. Lucky for you I’m just trying to get you to be present and enjoy friends. It’s not like I’m setting up a booty call. Although I’m sure you could use someone to come dust off the cobwebs.”

“Don’t worry about my situation. I’m not hurting for anyone.”

“Not now, but one day. I’ll make sure I help you find the right duster.”

“What y’all over here cackling about?” Malcolm walked over, beer in hand beer in hand.

“Just talking about cleaning services baby.” Tammi leaned in to Malcolm and rested her head on his side when he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“Oh, I know a good one. Their prices are decent and they’re Black owned.”

We looked at each other and laughed.

“What am I missing?”

“Nothing, you know what kind of equipment they use?” We laughed even harder.

“See now I know you playing.”

We couldn’t even deny it, and poked more fun at Malcolm’s expense.

“I’m gonna go back to my grill, since y’all minds in the gutter.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

“I wouldn’t say a gutter, but definitely in the street.” That was Tammi.

Other guests arrived. The smell of barbeque saturated the air. Music was bumping through portable speakers. They played a nice mixture of the music I loved: Keith Sweat, New Edition, and Anita along with some new school the kids could vibe to. The atmosphere was right. I sat in my lawn chair sipping one of Malcolm’s spiked lemonades and enjoying the scenery when I overheard Malcolm and Tammi arguing.

“Woman, you don’t wanna see me on this table.” Malcolm exclaimed.

“Come on Cleetus, let’s do it. You bout to get embarrassed today.” Tammi looked my way. “C’mon Nee, let’s give this man spanking he deserves and shut him up.”

I stood and stretched out. “Now I came to chill, but if folks asking for it, I’ll gladly come tap that ass one time.”

“That’s what I’m talking bout!” Tammi hi-fived me from across the table.

“Ain’t nobody scared of Nee!”

“You still talking Malcolm? You don’t even have a partner!”

“Now I don’t know you, but it sounds like we’re gonna have to skip formalities and go straight to spanking.” I turned my mouth up to reply and paused at the Ralph Angel looking King standing before me. I don’t even know where he came from. He was about six feet and dipped in chocolate.

“You look a lil young for this table but I will gladly whoop you and send you crying back to your mama.”

“Boy I still see milk behind your ears.” Tammi snickered.

“Time to put up or shut up.” Malcolm announced while shuffling.

We talked shit and played spades until the men finally had to accept they weren’t ready for me and Tammi. We had been playing together for decades. Malcom and the newbie didn’t stand a chance.

“Y’all cheated, over there using secret gestures. I saw you.”

“Awwww, don’t be a sore loser. Take this spanking like a man.” Tammi laughed and slapped Malcolm on his butt.

I made my exit from the table to get a refill on my drink. Mid-pour Ralph Angel entered the kitchen.

“I guess I’ll have to brush up on my skills.”

“That would probably be the best thing for you.” I teased.

“I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself. I’m Daryn Thomas.” He extended his hand to mine.

“Renee Johnson.”

“Nice to meet you.” He smiled and I could see dimples just above his beard. Lord, this man couldn’t get any finer.

“How long have you know Malcolm and Tammi?”

“Probably longer than you’ve been alive.” I couldn’t help myself. Don’t get me wrong, Daryn was fine as hell but I meant it when I said he looked a little young. Definitely not as young as my children just younger than me. I didn’t want him to get the wrong impression.

“I highly doubt that. Did you too grow up together?”

“No we met in college.”

Daryn couldn’t hide his disbelief. “I’m sorry but I have to ask. How old are you?”

I chuckled “You know you aren’t supposed to ask a lady her age.”

“I know, but you don’t look that much older than me.”

“How old are you?” I asked to satisfy my curiosity.

“I’m thirty eight. I’ll be thirty nine in September.”

I just laughed. “I’m fifty.” I shook my head and started to walk away.

He placed his hand on mine, halting my progress.

“You don’t look it at all.” Daryn replied looking me up and down. I felt naked under his gaze.

“Thank you.” I stated pulling my hand back. I walked to the door to make my exit and end this conversation before anything else was said.

“Let me get that door for you.” I left and didn’t turn back. I could feel Daryn’s eyes still staring me down.