#these would look baller if i colored them but i felt like taking it a little easy

[wiltkingart]

enemies to [gestures vaguely]

[hoe4sports]

In the enemy’s locker

Katie Mccabe ft Leah williamson x reader

A/N: Consensual mild waterboarding. Can be read as a sequel to “Baller”.

You were tiptoeing after Jonas, the coach of your new club. He invited you to come an hour early to practice so you could see the facility and get everything from keycard to athletic wear sorted. “This is where the physical therapist is, if you have issues or concerns, especially regarding your acl; see him immediately.” He knocked on the door, and a few seconds later the door swung open. “Welcome to Arsenal!” The therapist yelled as he dragged you into a hug. “I’ll take it from here Jonas, I’ll bring her in before orientation.” He cheered as he dragged you along into the room. You werent too sure about what you were doing, but you would bet on a lecture about your acl and how to keep it activated. He signaled for you to hop up on the bench, and being a professional athlete that was common curtesy.

“Right or left acl?”

He did tests on both your feet to check out the resistance. “It’s my- OW” you yelled as he flexed the right achillies . A sense of embarrassment quickly spread across Your body, and you looked at him with an apologetic look. You hadn’t really taken well care of the achillies since you tore it. It was always a bit sore, so you figured that the soreness was the new normal. “I got just the solution for you!” he sang as he disappeared around the corner. For a hot second, he reminded you of the Harry Potter scene where he gets his wand from the old guy. You fully expected him to come back with some sort of rehab device or a program for you to do before bedtime. However, he arrived with a box. He opened the box towards him and pieces of silk paper instantly got thrown to the floor. “I hope these are alright, we don’t have many color options! I can order in a specific color if you want. There is also options of adding your name or number on it. I already have all your sizes and measurements, so that wouldn’t be no issue.” he sang as he pulled up a pair of cleats.

“This is the new aeroluna 5, made for post tear women!” You werent really on board as you had tried endless things from before and landed on the Nike mercurials . He practically smacked the shoes on your feet, and lo and behold. They fit like a glove. They were comfortable and so supportive. You swore, you could’ve almost cried. The shoes however, were hot pink which you honestly didn’t mind. You looked up at your new born saviour with tears in your eyes. “Hot pink it is” you said as you adored my new cleats. You thanked the weird; but kind man and walked to the team warderobe.

“Ah, ladies, this is our new striker! Y/N! Now, please be kind to her and teach her the Arsenal way of caring for each others.” Jonas said as he patted me on the back. “Ex-girlfriend, finally! We meet at last.” Leah yelled out causing everyone to laugh including you and Jonas. She even did a clap and a little dance. “Your cubby will be next to Leah’s so go ahead and take a seat” the swede said as Leah patted next to her spot on the bench. You felt rather flabbergasted by seeing your face mid strike glued to the wall. It was blown up, and you were stuck with feeling some secondhand embarrassment. You popped down by Leah, and carefully listened as Jonas went on about his hopes for this new season. Leah lifted your right leg over her thigh just like the old days. When your acl would kill you every practice, it was the only sense of relief you got. You looked around the room, all the girls seemed so nice. You recognised quite a few of them, as you played them last season and they were good with their defence. A very well organised defence. Jonas was chatting away about his weekend, and you bent down to retie your shoes. Your need for the shoes to be tied equally tight was one of your peeves from your childhood. “And then, we need to work on our abil-“ he started as he was cut off by the door swinging open.

“I’m so so sorry for being late, my cat broke down and my car ran awa-“ the woman chaotically stated before cutting herself off. Her voice was awfully familiar, but you couldn’t seem to place it. You smiled as you curiously leaned forward before your face froze. You stared, she stared, Leah stared and everyone stared. Everyone went silent, including Jonas. “Oh this is season is about to be real good” Leah mumbled nudging you.Jonas was just as invested in this drama as everyone else remember your last meeting on the field.

“Katie McCabe” You said. “You” she said back. She walked towards you and for a second you were concerned that she was gonna knock you out. “Scared, McCabe?” you asked as she was nearing you. “No asshole, you are sitting next to my cubby.” she said with an annoyed tone in her voice. “Better sleep with one eye open because next time, it’s not my ankles that are getting cut off” You whispered as she sat down beside you, but as far as she could without causing attention.

As Jonas finished up talking, the girls started changing into their workout gear for the field. Everyone was wearing the same t-skirt except for Katie. She had pulled her sleeves up so she could show off her bronzed toned arms. “Trying compensate for your terrible tackles?” You said as you nudged her. You mean, it was hot. She was hot when she wasn’t trying to chop your ankles off, but you werent letting her in on that information. Katie turned around and looked at Leah. “How’d ya know her?” she asked with her Irish accent. “Ex-girlfriend and long term one night stand” she spat out as you felt slightly embarrassed. Leah was very fit, so it honestly didn’t bother you too much as she clearly was not ashamed of admitting that you for the last year had slept together at least once a week.

You went out on the field and did drills. Jonas was really testing the group, making sure that the girls hadn’t skipped their programs during the off season. After 2,5 hours, you were all fried and while you were drinking; Leah squirted her waterbottle at you making your white top and white sports bra see-through.”Leah!!” You yelled as you got up while removing the cap on your bottle as you attacked her and forced her to the ground while you sat on her. You held the bottle above her head and slowly poured everything out on her head. Katie looked at you annoyed, “For fucks sake, stop flirting” You looked at her with confidence while my nipples were showing through my top. “Jealous of you not getting these?” You teased as she just stared. “Or perhaps you are intimidated by my ability to uno reverse your tackles?” followed by a wink. “Fuck you, Y/N” she yelled as she walked away. It was safe to say, that she was not gonna get to pick on you for the next 5 years.

[applesontheground]

no returns 🎠

and last but not least for my protagonist triad, our beautiful angel...angel :') i felt seen by him as someone who also hates her retail job, talks aliens with acquaintances, and was having a really fucking weird summer in 2022. since it's been a sec (and if you're curious/had bisexual panic during this movie when not faced with the Horrors), you can find my OJ and Em blurbs here!

and listen. if i knew how to tackle cosmic romance with jean jacket along with these guys i would've done it. get back to me on that. or don't. i have a lot of wips already.

SFW | Word Count: 795 | Angel Torres x GN Reader 🎼: x

“Hey, not here to bust your balls or whatever, but I just wanted to ask about a good pair of wireless headphones.”

You couldn’t help the casual tone when seeing someone your age behind the counter, because he looked like the type that could take it without a hitch. Still, he almost looked startled, fumbling a suspiciously smartphone-shaped bundle under the counter before you got too close. He hadn’t even seemed to have heard you, finding his customer service voice before anything else.

“Sure-“ He waltzed out from behind a swinging door that kept him closed off to the public, which you imagined was pleasant during busy hours.  He put a hand on his hip and asked as the two of you started walking towards the correct section, you mostly following where he was leading, “Were you looking for wired or wireless?”

Silent, a smile grew on your face as his brain caught up with his mouth. He almost jumped at his own realization: “Right, wireless…”

You nodded along, and he slipped over to the even more precise section of the aisle you had been walking towards. He put a hand up to where the headphones would be, pursing his lips in a stiff expression. Everything about him screamed uncomfortable, so you returned the neutered movement with your own affirming wave, a signal that he didn’t have to linger.

Your eyes kept scanning over the colors, the prices… the packaging, even. You weren't too sure what would work. Earbuds were something you kept for a good three or four years then lost tragically to some freak accident.

Maybe you merely washed them with your jeans one too many times, but no one needed to know the details.

He was almost erratic, perfectly fine to leave but seeming as though his soles had been screwed into the floor. His eyes couldn’t help wandering, catching the outfit you had on. “…I saw those guys live a couple years ago.” At first, you weren’t sure if he was even talking to you, but then looked over in surprise. He abruptly gestured at your shirt, and when it clicked you tried not to laugh, “Oh yeah? How was that?”

“Nuts. Like, in a good way.” He was then whipping his phone out at light speed, but you didn’t mind, curiosity over asking for assistance giving way to the favor of seeing what sort of concert videos he took.

After all, you did like the band on your shirt.

Over the brief conversation, you had learned his name was Angel. The chat that followed had been interesting, laughing about wild concert stories, what kind of music you had to own physically, and you even got a few of his own favorites out of him.

He held a hand out, almost like he wasn’t about to jump back behind the counter and do his job while speaking. “Code Orange, ever heard of them?”

You scoffed, “Of course I have, I fucking rock with ‘em.” He sighed like a heavy weight had been taken from his body; maybe it was strictly from not knowing he could be someone more genuine until now. “They’re baller, right?”

Silence fell as you stuck your card in the chip reader, and you figured this wasn’t a terrible idea to find a way to get some more music speak out of the guy. “What’s the return policy at Fry’s, again?” You then asked. Angel cleared his throat, and answered without a hitch, “30 Days, standard policy.” You nodded, “Cool, thirty days to come back with a good date to ask the nice clerk with good music taste out on. I’ll consider it. Thank you, Angel.”

His exasperated expression suddenly grew horns, eyes wide as you took your headphones and walked away. You maybe made it three steps before you heard clambering behind the counter again, the man nearly breaking his own ankle trying to run out to catch up to you.

“Wait, wait. Hold on-!” He called, like you hadn’t already stopped in your tracks, beaming at him as he lost all his formality just to run up and say in a breathless hush. There was hesitation, almost a fresh pain at the mention of dating that made you reconsider – not for your sake, but possibly for his. You just met the guy, after all, but he had charmed you. Being in your twenties was all about taking those shots, trying it out.

He continued to fumble, almost dropping his phone as you kept your giggles stifled. "I a-actually lied, we don't fucking have a return policy-" You cocked your head at him, and taking a steadying breath he once again put his hands back on his hips.

“I mean... y-you don’t have to wait, do you?”

[deldeldel90]

hey what do you think of cpc characters as flowers,, maybe plaid family specifically. the sunflower post had me thinking

!!!!!!!!! CPC as flowers!!!!!!! YES. yes yes yes. oh my gosh. CPC as flowers >>>

gonna do the plaid family rn :D

FIRST;;; Lance!! the ultimate middle child, my boy

I feel like Chicory would really represent him well!

it's a wildflower (which I think fits him) and it belongs to the Sunflower family. it's name, according to a Trusty Google Search, means, "The German word for chicory means “The Blue Lookout at the Wayside.”

It's a cool season veggie and prefers a sunny location (Lance being a Sunshine boy my beloved). the nicknames for Chicory are, "Chicory is also called blue daisy, blue sailor, wild bachelor's button, blue or Italian dandelion, or even coffeeweed" (all of which I think kinda fit Lance)

"Chicory has also been used to symbolize the force of perseverance in martyrdom, as seen on the St Augustine's altar from 1487" - some study from 2009

NEXT:: Isolde!! :D

carnations!! specifically red carnations!! these symbolize deep love and affection, and the ruffles at the end of the petals really remind me of her.

There's also this little bit of info, "The color was thought to resemble human flesh and carnation flower meaning took on the idea of the incarnation, God being made flesh." WHICH. I think is pretty baller NGL.

Next: Blaine!!

I picked this because 1. It does resemble a carnation, which I felt was a nice detail :D (esp since he resembles his mother the most!!) and 2. red roses are known for a lot of things, like love and passion and stuff, AND red roses are often associated with throwing them at the end of plays and movies, which I find fits him!!!

"The red rose whispers of passion, And the white rose breathes of love; O, the red rose is a falcon, And the white rose is a dove." - some poem that makes me go a little Cray. and there's also this: "It's the rose of romance and deep feelings, but can also relay desire, beauty, victory, harmony, joy, luck, pride, martyrdom, [according to McCord Jones.]"

They thrive off direct sunlight and take a while to grow :D pretty high maintenance flowers yk :D PLUS!!!! they're super pretty and soft-looking, but they have thorns!!

FREDERICK....

A Green Jewel Coneflower :D okay I was mildly tempted to just put a sunflower BUTTT you know. So I picked this!!!

a Green Jewel Coneflower can pretty much grow anywhere (and it grows pretty tall too!!), and they actually like a little bit of shade!

Sources say this: "Today, the Orange Coneflower is a symbol of enthusiasm and vitality. Its bold hue radiates excitement, making it a perfect emblem for those eager to make a statement. It's not just a pretty face; it's a nod to resilience, attracting pollinators and feeding birds, while standing strong against deer and drought." Which I think really suits him!!

and,

Leland..... bro would be like poison or something. Actually, maybe he'd be like a Petunia- "A flower that is not very common, Petunias display feelings of deep resentment and anger." It's not a poisonous flower but I feel like the negative meaning of it fits him :D

[dejwritesarchived]

✧˖*°࿐ synopsis + warnings — nash dealing with the consequences to his own actions ( she/her pronouns, reader is black, angst, nash crying and throwing up, mentions of cheating, reader living their best life, kagami mentioned )

✧˖*°࿐ tags — @hon3ybee-3 @seyawrld @po3ticb3auty @ladyblack15 @simpingforle0valdez0414 @misss-chrisss

NASH LET OUT THE MOST DRAMATIC SIGH AS HE WAS IN THE DRIVER'S SEAT OF HIS SPORTS CAR. His eyes peered at the social media post that a gossip website posted of his now ex-girlfriend (Y/N) out enjoying herself. It's been two weeks since they broke up and the woman complete did a 180 on him. She was spotted courtside looking as beautiful as ever at some basketball games (that wasn't his), she was doing more club hostings than usual, and she damn sure was getting posted more on gossip websites now. Nash wasn't really phased with her behavior, he could have another woman on his arm in a blink of an eye. But it was one particular post that had the baller seeing red.

He wasn't really the type to lurk. He was a man of standards, he would never stoop that low. But here he was on (Y/N) Instagram page. Just moments after seeing a post of her out with Kagami, he was so quick to go on her page to see if she had been posting him. Nash knew that if Jason and his friends saw the desperation on Nash's face at the moment, they would make him the butt of the jokes. He let out a sigh as he pushed his car door open to walk towards the club.

The neon lights shined down on the people in the club while Lil Baby blasted through the speakers. Bottle girls pushed their way towards sections to give out bottles and people danced recklessly on the dance floor. Nash spotted his friends in one of the biggest sections and he made his way towards them. When he entered the section, an eruption of cheers and welcomes rung in his ears as they would shove glasses of shots in his face. Exclaiming that he had a lot of drinking to do to get him through the evening.

"What the hell are you guys talking about?" Nash questioned as he looked at them, he took the shot of Hennesy letting the brown liquor burn at his throat.

Jason Silver only smirked at him, his fingertips toying with the woman on his lap hem of the short dress she wore. "Your girl is here also," His head motions to the section just a couple feet away from them.

Nash kissed his teeth. "I don't care."

"Yeah, you fuckin' do. We not going to pretend I didn't catch you lurking on her page two days ago," Jason snickered.

"Oh that's just pathetic," Nick added.

"You were just checking to see if that asshole Kagami got a taste huh?" Jason asked. His eyebrows raised at his friend.

"Oh shut the hell up," Nash uttered before he's taking a bottle and took a sip from it.

But the thing is the thought of (Y/N) giving herself to Kagami made his blood boil. He could have cared less if it was another guy, but it was Kagami. It felt like such a low blow to the gut. However, Nash had to remember that it was him that stepped out of their relationship. He was the one that was unfaithful. So was it really his right to be a pouty jealous baby at the moment?

"You should go say something to her," Nick commented as he was refilling his shot glass.

"Nah, I'm not wasting my time with that," Nash uttered over the overbearing music that was playing.

"What if we said Kagami is with her right now," Jason said and Nash's head never shot up so quickly as his light-colored eyes darted over to the section.

His ears turned a shade of red in embarrassment when he saw that Kagami was nowhere to be found. While his friends laughed at what he did, he took a large gulp of the intoxicating alcohol before pushing himself out of his seat.

"Oh shit! He's actually going to do it!"

Nash pushed his way through the crowd, declining dances from women, and fans wanting autographs. He had to talk to her. When he got to the section, her friends were practically glaring at him. It was as if a record stopped to silently judge that one character in a tv show whose always saying stupid punchlines. Her best friend is the first to speak, rolling her eyes, and bating her long mink eyelashes at the man. "If we weren't in public right now, I would have beat your ass. Please leave." Her friend spat at him.

"This doesn't involve you," Nash responded back just as harshly.

"Just chill, both of you. I'm going to go talk to him," (Y/N) says as she looked at her friends. "I told y'all it was bound to happen eventually, so I'll be back and after this. We can go to that afterparty."

"Just text me if you need me, I'm wearing heels I can use as a weapon." Her friend says as she gave Nash a glare.

He stepped aside so (Y/N) could lead the way for them to talk. For a quick second, Nash even placed his large hand on her lower back, which she was quick to push his hand away as they stood closer to the back of the club. The music vibrated off the walls, but she knew it was best for the music to overpower the possible heated words to tumble out the two of their mouths.

"Fuckin' Kagami really?" Nash sneered at (Y/N).

The woman is rolling her eyes at him instantly. Her back was against the wall as Nash practically cornered her. His hand placed near her head and the two were standing quite close just to hear each other out. "Don't start with this nonsense Nash. Do I need to remember you always told me to not worry about what these gossip pages have to say? What you would always say?" She argued back.

Just waiting for the infamous comment he would tell her when she argued about him being seen with another woman.

Nash grew quiet as she looked at him with such an intense glare. "Or will me bringing that up hurt your feelings? I've spent months of you telling me that it's just gossip when it came to you making me look like a damn idiot in this city. Here you have the fucking audacity to question Kagami and me."

"But through all the damn people, why him? You did that shit to get under my skin. You know the history we have and you out being seen with him, it's not a good look for me."

"Nash, we're not together anymore. At least I had the decency to wait until after the relationship was done and over with." She argued. She let out a sigh as she tugged down the black dress she wore, she knew this talk wasn't going anywhere. She moved out of his way to go join her friends.

But before she was leaving Nash to officially be out of her life, she turned to look at him. "After all it's just gossip babe." She reminded him of his own words before disappearing into the crowd.

(Y/N) left Nash all alone, fist clutched tightly, and it felt like somebody sat on his heart. She was officially done with him. The gossip pages were going to love that.

[kawaiijohn]

DP Angst Week Day One: Birth/Creation

Ao3: here!!

Wc: 1463

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The Abyss

Waking up without any idea where you are is a pretty prevalent fear for many, and for others it's nothing more than the aftermath of a baller pub crawl.

However, most don't find themselves surrounded by a vast swirling void of lime highlighter green when they wake.

The first thing they noticed was the barren hunk of rock they'd woken up on. Grey and deep violet, yet still surrounded by the swirling neon green skies.

'Either there's a storm comin' or I'm not 'in Kansas' anymore...'

They tried to think about how the hell they ended up here, wracking their brain for any small detail, but they realized they couldn't remember anything. Not their name, nor their age- nothing was coming to them. They knew 'they' was right and so was 'he'; the words felt right, even if there was no name to match.

The more he thought, however, the more his head began to swim. There was nothing before they'd opened their eyes this morning. Or was it night? Evening??

Time didn't seem to matter here.

The toxic sky made it impossible to tell what time it was, and the purple and grey soil they were standing on made them assume they were possibly on a different planet.

What kinds of things might even live here? If anything does live here, that is. Alien life had to exist, right? We hadn't contacted them yet due to both distance and technological incompatibilities... Something clicked, filling in a blank.

'I believe that's referred to as 'The Fermi Paradox'.

He blinked, not knowing where the phrase came from. How could he recall a niche scientific theory but couldn't even recall what he'd been doing the night before??

He was panicked- trying to remember anything; his age, birthday, zodiac sign... was he a Scorpio or a Gemini? Maybe he was a cusp or something interesting...

He had to know something else... Maybe he could try and recall his Myers's Briggs personality test- then he'd find more information from inference... But not everyone fit into neat little boxes even if they were wonderful starting points...

His chest buzzed pleasantly with the train of thought, but he was no closer to an answer.

He could be in space for all he knew.

Or maybe an alternate realm...

'What, did I get hit by a truck and transported to another world?!? Is this, an Isekai or something?? ...Why do I know that word, but have no clue what my name is????'

Irritated, they looked to the horizon, spotting a floating island. He was going to dismiss it but felt something calling to them from beyond.

The feeling brought them to their knees.

They shook their head, trying to ignore the call, knowing the jump was impossible to make. It would be suicidal to take that leap...

Right?

They exhaled harshly, a strange hiss passing their lips as something vast and empty in their chest demanded they take the leap. No matter how unsafe their mind knew it was, their chest was still singing for something the horizon; calling out to that something with such pulling force it felt like a black hole would devour their common sense.

Time marched on, but they did not move.

They knelt, refusing to listen to the call until their head stopped spinning. Their knees crunched hard into the sharp gravel, digging trenches to stay grounded.

Why didn't their knees hurt from this? They've always had bad joints, especially after the- after...

After what?

They clawed the dirt, shaking in fear at what could be beyond their small respite in the lime abyss. Their mind was blank, torn between urge and indecision. They could sit here alone and think more. Or. They could follow the call.

It could be a trap.

But.

Something deep within told them they'd always felt comfort in nothing, even before this. They'd always felt comforted by the void. They didn't know what all it meant, but it was better than sitting there any longer.

So they followed their heart.

It was better to die trying than to remain a sitting duck in exile.

'Geronimo.'

They expected to die, to perish as they fell into the endless (and somehow comforting) vast sea of lime; to spend eternity gazing into long nothingness until they passed the event horizon and became one with the universe.

Instead, they floated.

They managed to fall about three or so feet before righting themself, head whipping erratically- up, down, left, right. This shouldn't be possible but...

He tested the waters (so to speak) and found he could pretty much fly. They grinned, mouth splitting farther than they remembered it being able to, but that was a mystery for later.

They sighed, relenting, and followed the siren's song.

-----

Some things seemed to be very out of place. Wrong, even.

Firstly, his hands were completely black. Not just the black of cloth, but black as the void of space- small pricks of light shone when he smiled and constellations vibrated when he grew frustrated with his amnesia. Obsidian talons (he couldn't even begin to call them hands, not with how they seemed to grow in response to his emotions) replaced what he thought for sure would be bitten nails with torn cuticles. He didn't know why he expected chipped blue nail polish.

They'd just painted their nails a few days ago and with their job it always...

'Wait... what was my job?'

Why did that confuse them? They had a job. They knew they did... It was... They brought a hand to their head, thoughts turning into radio static

'My job was...'

Faces and colors they couldn't place assaulted their mind. Names came and went, leaving nothing but lingering feelings- like a song cut off by a garbled PA announcement, the clouded memories were interrupted by crackling interference.

Claws brushed his face as black droplets rushed from his eyes.

That wasn't right either...

Nothing was right but they kept flying.

-----

Green seas shifted into a black expanse, the lime color swirling faintly in the distance instead of consuming the skies. Purple doors hovered every which way they could.

Relieved that the skies became less eye-burning, they spoke for the first time. "Thank gods!! That neon hellscape was giving me a headache..."

A pause.

That wasn't right. It didn't sound right at all.

That wasn't their voice.

Their voice was nasally, high pitched and awful. Nothing like the deeper growl they just heard... Though they were slowly panicking, the deeper voice felt right. It was something they didn't know they wanted, but it clicked as if it were natural.

But it didn't matter how pleasant it sounded, they needed to keep moving.

-----

Was it days? Hours?? Were they flying for weeks?

They didn't know, had absolutely no fuckin clue. But what did know was that they'd reached their destination.

It didn't stand out much, but for reasons unknown he felt comfortable here- at peace. His heart led him to a small island. Strange, yet familiar flowers grew in patches around a worn, yet glowing path leading to a door- black wood door with silver embossment.

"Fancy..."

He looked around- well there wasn't anything else around...

They approached the strange structure and flinched when stylish street lights flickered on with a blue-green flame. The weird vibrating in their chest sang that they were here.

This was home.

He stepped back, looking high and low. He did not trust like that. The door wasn't even connected to anything! With more investigating he saw the path reacted to his footsteps but not much else.

"Great! I get led here by the power of friendship or somethin and can't even get a break??"

He grumbled, hissing under his breath as he felt his body elongate and warp in frustration. This was all the damn door's fault!

Stupid fuckin piece of driftwood!! He ran up and kicked the offending structure, noting that he felt no pain even with an all-out kick.

In his growling frustration, however, something metal and glimmering appeared on the door- a nameplate in somehow familiar handswriting.

The void in his chest sang, something finally clicked.

"Quizz, huh?" They laughed to themself. "Thought my name'd be somethin cooler! Like Maxwell... or Levi." They crossed their arms. Progress! "Well... guess beggars can't be choosers or whatever the hell that phrase was."

They found themself hesitating. That wasn't the way to go! They were certain they weren't a quitter, even with as little as they knew of themself. No, there was an apparently magical door with their name on it that called them from across the void.

No real reason to hesitate anymore. They reached for the handle with a wicked and determined grin.

"Alrighty then! Let's see what's behind door number one!!"

[theotherwesley]

tagged by @skyeventide! BRO THANK YOU <3

Rules: Choose your favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

1) Right at the beginning of 2020 (*can we even count the January-February Era as part of 2020? It feels like a separate timeline lol)  I designed a homebrew D&D campaign around an extended-universe Watership Down world, where all player characters are rabbits. :3 I designed it over the winter and DM’d my first test game with my family! It was so, so fun, and I had high hopes of continuing to playtest it and refine the rules this year.... ah, the best laid schemes o’ Buns and Men gang aft agley. U_U

Some samples: 

2) I got a truly awesome commission from a client on FR to do some stained glass window designs for their D&D campaign’s pantheon of gods. I got 4/6 done with them before my computer staged a revolution amongst our household electronics and went into a coma, taking BF’s laptop, a backup disk, and for some reason the toaster, with it. Then after that, the 2020 vibe got really uhhhhhh, shall we say, intense, and even after I found solution for my computer trouble I basically had zero creative fluid in the tank, so this was the last serious art I did for most of the year. :(

 But! I do really like these pieces, and I will eventually get to the remaining two...... sometime. I don’t want to jinx it. >>;

3) Got into a SUPER JUICY and EXTREMELY DENSE long-form RP with @salmaganto​ over on the Tolkien Blog. It involves so much research into historical and logistical minutiae about running a Big Evil Fortress, surviving sieges, uh... managing thrall labor, transitioning between war and peace... It is absolutely my favorite shit lol, just,,, 100% gratuitous worldbuilding nonsense, with my favorite micro-rarepair ship (or rather, its platonic counterpart). Again, this level of creative output, especially dealing with some controversial topics and in-depth analysis of like, authoritarian regimes, lost a looooooooooootttttttt of its um, escapist appeal. I desperately want to pick it back up, but man, this year was a lot, and I’m still recovering.  _( :’| 」∠)＿ We’re all still recovering.

4) Did some nerdy fanart for two of my favorite actual-play shows:

5) Attended a Zoom life-drawing session hosted in Perth, and it was a blast! 

6) Okay so this is a weird one, but, I edited a font??? I’m disproportionately pleased with this niche accomplishment. I had ZERO working knowledge of font design programs, and I went with a free, super nuts-and-bolts shareware application, taught myself how to use the basic functions, and then muddled my way through editing one of my favorite fonts, HamletOrNot:

“Well, this font isn't really Blackletter, but it has a certain historical touch, so it is welcome on these pages. The typeface Hamlet was designed by Edward Johnston for a Shakespeare edition, Cranach Press, 1929. The award winning book Hamlet was considered “the most beautiful book of the year 1930”. HamletOrNot – digitized by Manfred Klein & CybaPee.“ 

If you hunt down the mysterious user “CybaPee”, you find typographer Petra Heidorn and her many, many preserved, historical fonts, which have been painstakingly digitized and made available for free on... well, pretty much every free font website ever, which made it a real pain to source. 

I love this font with my whole heart, and I very much wanted to use it for parts of my comic (you know, the one) but HamletOrNot has a couple of readability failings that made it a bad match for small dialogue, and worse for ME, SPECIFICALLY: it does not include most diacritic marks.  *cries in Tôlkíën* 

So I embarked on this fool’s quest to do some touchups and add the diacritics and special characters I’d need to spell all the crazy bullshit for the comic, because HOW HARD COULD IT BE, HAHA, TO ADD A FEW MARKS AND CLEAN UP A FEW TANGENTS?  HAHAHA. HAHA. .....Anyway, I think I actually started this process sometime in like, 2019, but I FINISHED IT IN 2020, and I’m proud of myself. 

I’m calling the modified font ArdaOrNot, and it looks something like this: 

7)  Oh yeah, about that comic (you know, the one): 

‘Ey, would you look at that! Progress! :D  Slow, agonizing, unoptimized progress! I was hoping I’d have the first six full color pages ready with lettering and everything by the end of 2020, but.... well, here we are. Wow, I am SO TIRED OF BEING SICK, I HAVE THINGS I WANT TO DO SO BAD HAHAHAA FUCK 

8) Another minor accomplishment that I’m disproportionately proud of, I made some new baller playlists and polished up a few old ones to a fine gleam.

Anyway-- I don’t know who has and hasn’t been tagged, but consider this an invitation to anyone who has the energy to post your highlights from the last year. It was actually pretty therapeutic to see some things I DID manage to accomplish, because so much of this damn year felt empty and lonely and barren. But there they stand: the weird little triumphs that were sprinkled throughout the months, somehow improbably blooming in the wasteland. :’)

[sincerlypadfoot]

If Only You Knew (Chapter Two)

Harry walked around Grimmauld Place one night, looking at all the pictures that are hung up on the wall, finding one inpartical one of a golden haired girl with a bright smile, he asked Sirius and Remus about the girl in the picture, learning her whole story.

Word Count-2K

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Lexi let out a blood curdling scream as she was tossed against wall, her body curled as she fell, tears falling down her face.

“Please, please stop,” Lexi whispered as she flinched in pain, Bellatrix standing over her, letting out a cackling laugh.

“Bellatrix, that is enough!” Narcissa screamed, swifting walking over to the corner where Lexi laid. “Come on dear, you should eat something,” Narcissa placed her arm on Lexi but she flinched.

“You filthy half blood!” Bellatrix screamed, flicking her wand hard infront of her, causing Lexi to cry out in pain, her whole body extended as her body felt like she’d been electrocuted.

“Has our guest spoken yet?” Voldemort asked standing behind the two girls. Bellatrix shook her head, moving out of the way to Voldemort could see Lexi. “Narcissa, help our guest upstairs,”

Narcissa nodded her head, placing her hand gently on Lexis arm, she slowly helped the girl to her feet.

“Please,” Lexi weakly said, placing her head down as she walked. “Kill me,” She whispered as tears fell on her bare feet.

Bellatrix and Voldemort followed Narcissa and Lexi up the stairs, placing Lexi at the end of the dinning hall table, her head falling backwards.

“I would like everyone to meet Lexi Baller, our guest of the evening,” Voldemort smirked, sitting at the end of the table, looking at Lexi.

Walburga Blacked looking at the girl, standing up and shooting her wand forward, hitting Lexi causing her to scream and fall, but Wormtail held her straight.

“Enough, sit down Black!” Voldemort hit his fists on the table, causing Walbruga to sit down in anger, muttering something under her breath.

Severus Snape looked at Lexi, keeping a straight face but his mind was running in circles, unbeloved that he was looking at Lexi, he hadn’t known where she was, until this moment.

“My lord,” Severus said turning his head to look at Voldemort. Severus was about to say something but stopped himself.

“Our dearest guest here will be joining us for dinner, everyone welcome her,” Voldemort smirked looking around the table. “Something wrong Severus?” 

Severus took his eyes away from Lexi, who had her head swung back, too weak to even keep her head straight.

“No my lord,” His voice was miserable, something in his stomach felt horrible, Lexi was the nice girl when he went to Hogwarts, but he’d also felt a bit of joy seeing her horrid and half alive, she’d also been a complete bitch to him.

“My lord, we’ve had her here for nearly nineteen years, surly she’s not good for us anymore, wouldn’t it be easier to kill her?” Bellatrix asked gripping her wand tighty in her hand, grinning at the girl.

“No!” Voldemort snapped banging his fist on the table. “She is valuable to us, a bargain at the most, people care about her, and that is what will get them,” His voice calmed.

“Please,” Lexi whimpered, using all the force she had left to stick her head up, unable to see almost nothing, her face nearly unrecognizable, even to her bestest friends.

“Wormtail, get our guest some food!” Voldemort shouted raising her wand in the air, Wormtail quickly ran out of the room.

Narcissa turned her head to Draco, who had been looking at Lexi, he heard stories from his aunt Anadaroma, who talked about Lexi, so he’d known about her disappearance as well, Adaorma taking it harshly.

“Nausicaa take our guest back to the dungeons, Wormtail will bring her food, and you’ll take care of her, the morning she’ll give us information,”

Narissa stood up from her seat quickly walking over towards Lexi, she looked for a second then placed her hand on her shoulder.

“Please,” Lexi whimpered again closer her eyes, she shook her head letting tears fall down her face, knowing she wouldn’t last the morning torture, knowing it’ll be the worst of it.

Narcissa helped Lexi up, tossing her right arm over her and bringing her to lean against her.

“I trust Lexi dearest, that you’ll give us what we need,” Voldemort crackled as Narcissa kicked the door infront of her open, she used her free hand to hold her wand tight, just incase Lexi had tried anything.

“I’m sorry they’re doing this to you dear,” Narcissa whispered as she helped the girl down the hallway.

“Your food,” Wormtail quivered as he walked behind Lexi and Narcissa. Lexi knew she had to do something, and this was her change.

Lexi pushed all her body weight on Narcissa, collapsing the both of the ground. Wormtail dropped the food in fear as Lexi laid on the ground, Narcissa helping herself quickly.

“Wormtail help me get her up!” Narcissa command looking at Wormtail, he quickly walked over to Lexi who was laying on her side. Her eyes open just a bit, looking over at Narcissa wand that blended in almost completely with the ground.

Wormtail put his hands on Lexis back, pushing her just enough so she’d only have to stick her hand inches from her face. Grabbing Narcissa's wand she turned falling on her back and causing Wormtail to go flying with a squill, hitting the wall.

Narcissa stood looking defenseless at Lexi who pointed the wand up at Narcissa.

“Now now Lexi, you don’t wanna do this, he’ll kill you, he’ll kill both of us if you do that,” Narcissa put her hands up in the air.

Lexi used her left hair, pinning herself up and helping herself up to the ground, shaking her head.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Lexi shook her head harder, pointing the wand straight ahead, it was the first time she’d stood up by herself, her legs felt like spaghetti as she slowly backed away. “I’m sorry,” Her voice cracked as she looked at the door, her freedom.

“Go,” Narcissa whispered putting her hands down. “Go and run, the bus will find you, I wish you the best of luck,” 

Lexi dropped the wand, pivoting on her feet quickly. Narcissa took off running towards Lexi, grabbing her wand, pointing it quickly infront of her, the door swung open and Lexi was hit with fresh hair.

Lexi hadn’t look back, she took off running, using all the adrenaline that rushed through her body, she was scared as it was completely dark outside, unknowing of where her wand was, if she even had a wand anymore.

“Get back here!” Narcissa called out, smiling inside, knowing what she had done was good, knowing eventually that if Lexi hadn’t given them what they wanted, and no one seemed to care for her, they would have killed her.

“What have you done,” Wormtail mumbled standing in the middle of the room, Narcissa shot her head around, she felt guilty for what she was about to do, but she had a family to protect.

“What have you done!” She spit out pointing her wand towards Wormtail. “You let her go, LUCIUS!”

Soon footsteps grew lounder, Draco and Lucius entered the room, followed my Voldemort, Bellatrix and the death eater gang.

“Where is she!” Voldemort yelled walking passed everyone, he approached Narcissa, then turned his head to wormtail.

“He let her go, ran right into me, and didn’t catch her, she’s gone my lord,” Narcissa shot her head down, Wormtail quivered in fear, unable to comprehend any words.

Lexi on the other hand, she couldn’t see as well, especially in the dark, but she was running down a long hill, coming to a small village, and what she could see, a purple bus.

“Bus for the stranded witches and wizards,” Stanley Shunpike said standing outside the bus handing on. “What are you doing here?” 

Lexi looked up at the boy, taking a look around, she could see a bit clearer with the lights from the busses.

“Please help me,” Lexi whimpered walking towards Stanley who nodded his head confused.

“Where are you going my dear?” He asked grabbing her hand lightly and helping her on the bus, now seeing how dirty she was, her hair was a dark brown color, nothing like her golden locks before, dirt covered her whole body, clothes ripped to shreds, and filled with bruises.

“Sirius, Sirius Black,” Lexi whispered, Stanly looked at her, cocking his head.

“You don’t look so good miss,” That was the last thing he had said to Lexi before she fell forward, Stanley catching her in his arms. “Contact the Aurors, we’ve got a problem, He placed Lexi on the bed and the bus began driving.

“Lexi wait please!” Regulus Black cried out running after Lexi who was about to get off the train, he grabbed her arm pulling her back.

“Reggie what the hell?!” Lexi yelled looking at him, he pushed her alone in a cart, locking the door. “What are you doing?” She crossed her arms.

“I need you to bring me home with you, secretly, you’ve got a protection charm on your house don’t you?” Regulus asked looking around, he looked nervous as it is.

“You think that’ll stop your mom from finding you, Reg I can’t and you know it, Dumbledore would have my head if I had you with me, I already have Sirius,”

Regulus said shaking his head and leaning against the door. “I can’t go home, I can’t, you don’t know what they’re plotting, its horrible and i’m sixteen, I don’t wanna do it anymore,” 

Lexi looked out the window, she saw Sirius talking to her parents, he had a big grin on his face, then a smile, Walburga stood tapping her foot on the ground, shaking her head and looking around.

“How are you going to get passed your mom?” Lexi asked turning back to Regulus.

“James and Remus, they owe me a favour,” 

Lexi sighed, shaking her head, she walked towards Regulus then took him into a hug, wrapping her arms around him.

“You know i’d do anything for you Regulus, anything,” She whispered in his ear, stoking the back of his head.

“Thank you, so much Lexi,” The two had bonded more over the past week, more than they had in almost seven years, had only he known he wouldn’t be seeing Lexi in a week.

James and Remus jumped off the train when Regulus nodded to him. They both smirked as they strutted over to Walpurga who shook her head.

“Hey Mrs Black,” James smiled crossing his arms. “I hear Regulus is already on the other side of Kings cross, something about chasing a half blood away, wanted us to tell you,”

Remus nodded his head. “You should be proud of your son, those half bloods well tell you,”

Regulus had Lexis hood on, drapped over his head, all they had to do was get t her parents, who was already looking at the two confused.

“We’re kidnapping him, go,” Lexi chuckled, looking over at James and Remus. “Just toss your stuff in my room, Sirius you’re welcome,” Lexi planted a kiss on Sirius cheek then turned to walk towards James and Remus

Crack

“What do you mean my son is chasing a half blood away?” Walpurga asked then looked at Lexi. “Hello Baller, since your reasonable, do you know where my son is?”

Lexi smiled looking over and James and Remus, then back at Walpurga. “Heard he went to America, fancied a girl there” She shrugged her shoulder with a smile.

“No no I heard he went to Paris, chasing a muggle girl,” Remus bursted into laughter ter elbowing James.

“You both are so wrong, he went to China, chasing a muggle boy,” The three turned into laughter, making Walburga turn red with anger.

“If I find out you three have something to do with my son's disappearance, i’ll have your heads!” 

Lexi took James and Remus hand, giggling as she walked back to her mom who shook her head.

“You guys are going to get in trouble one day you know, real trouble,”

[joshslater]

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“Yo, anyone here?”

Brock closed the door to South London Styling behind him and surveyed the room. He had no idea what to expect, but was pleasantly surprised by the interior. It looked like a good barber, perhaps even towards the higher end. A man in his thirties, dressed in black polo shirt and pants emerged from a back room, and greeted him. “Good Morning. How can I help?” he said in a British accent, which Brock had always thought sounded smart.

Brock pulled out a card from his khakis and handed over. “Well, that’s the thing. I don’t know what you do. It was just my birthday and the frat house gave me this card. Wrapped in like 30 envelopes.” He was reassured by the surroundings. Jake got a gift card for a lap dance from a male escort service. Luke the second got a blow-up sex doll. Luke the first had gotten a hot air balloon ride, but he was afraid of heights. So far this looked like the pretty normal gift, but he was sure there was some twist somewhere. With frat birthdays you should always watch a gift horse in the mouth.

The man looked carefully at the card in his hands. “Ah, the all-inclusive personal styling and outfitting. You really should have called ahead of time to schedule a session.” Brock was intrigued by the contradictions of this barber’s, or whatever he was, hands, holding his gift card. Both arms were heavily tattooed, but on the left wrist was a fancy designer timepiece. “I’m normally over at the campus but had another thing downtown. How long does it take? Do I need to come back?”

The man looked up from the card. “It sort of depends on the wishes of the client, but we usually set aside two hours. I do have an opening right now, with the caveat that the next appointment might arrive at the end of the session, cutting it slightly short.” “Sure, I have time. What is it you do, though? Haircuts?” “We do that too, but we try to be your one-stop for all styling and grooming. As the name suggests we have a more European focus on the style. In particular a look known as Chav.” “Never heard of. Sounds French.” “It is British. Perhaps you have heard the related term Scally?” “Sounds Italian. Nope there too. I love European fashion though. In theory at least. I have a student budget.” “Well, perhaps we can get started and you’ll get a feel for what direction to go. In the all-inclusive package, besides all the grooming, one full outfit is included for you to take home. I’m Alexander by the way.” “Brock”

Brock had no idea what to expect. He didn’t know anything about British fashion trends. Kilts and tweeds would obviously be off the table. Otherwise his only reference was Rob, the exchange student from UK, who always wore too tight pants, sorry trousers. Was that British fashion? He followed the man into the back room.

The room was a surprise. Large and bright, with neutral furniture and muted, light colors. Lots of wardrobe doors along the walls, some furniture to sit on, and a room divider in one corner, presumably acting as a fitting room. “If you like European fashion, let’s start with the European brands”, said Alexander as he went to a wardrobe and pulled out one adidas top after the other, placing them on a rack.

There was a second of confusion for Brock when the contrast between his expectations and the class of the room clashed with the almost jarring display of streetwear. Of course his frat house hadn’t bought him a bespoke suit and tie. He’d expected a twist, then just when he thought this was a real birthday present: twist. But a new set of athletic clothes isn’t cheap, so he decided to engage fully. Let’s go all in with this style and let the house get the laughter they’ve paid for. Perhaps it would even look good on him.

Once past the disappointment, Brock found the whole experience interesting. He hadn’t really thought about the difference in relaxed clothes between different areas. Instead of his normal outfit of jerseys, baller shorts or cargo pants Alexander showed him a range of track tops and “joggers”. Together they placed a black T-shirt, adidas track top, unbranded grey sweats, and a pair of Nike shoes on a couch. As Brock grabbed it all to try it on, Alexander placed two plastic-wrapped bundles on top of the pile. One was a two-pack McKenzie briefs and the other was a 3-pack unbranded white socks.

“You want me to strip naked?” “It’s up to you, but we do offer a complete style.”

It wasn’t until behind the divider, with his khakis and shirt folded into a pile, that he made the decision. It felt weird stripping naked in the same room as another dude, although on the other side of the screen, but he reminded himself that he would use the gift card to the max. Off went his underwear, and he started putting all the new clothes on.

Looking at himself in the mirror it kind of felt different. Sure, it was just clothes, but how often do you replace everything. How often is everything you wear chosen by someone else? He had input on what items to take, but from a selection already decided for him.

“Well mint.” “Mint?” “It looks good on you. Let’s style the rest of you to match.”

They walked back out into the barber part and Brock sat down in one of the chairs. Alexander put a barber’s gown over Brock and started to prepare him for a haircut with a sanex strip around his neck. Brock had a quick thought about his clothes in the other room when Brock spoke again.

“There are a few different styles I would recommend for your look and face shape.” “Just pick whatever you think is best.” “Oh, OK. In that case we have an additional service we can provide while you relax, if you wish. It’s a kind of motivational attitude tape you can listen to. Completely complimentary, and optional, of course.” “Yeah, sure. I’m all in.” “Do you smoke?” “What?” “We have different tapes depending on your preference.” “Yeah, now that it’s legal I light up occasionally.” “Very well. Put these in.”

Alexander opened a small box with some wireless in-ear headphones, put on some disposable rubber covers and handed them to Brock. While Brock fiddled with getting them into place, Alexander brought a cup of tea and a small plate with what looked like a piece of single chewing gum.

“Just drink the tea and then start chewing on the chewing gum, and I’ll get started.” Alexander said, and started tapping on a cellphone. The earpieces started to stream a constant, but not very loud hiss. Brock wasn’t used to tea, but this one was alright. Bitter, sweet, and a hint of lemon. Alexander started to draw a line around his skull with a clipper machine. Was he getting a bowl cut? If that is the price for a new set of clothes, so be it. He was getting really relaxed.

Brock jerked violently as he woke up, looking around confused to establish where he was. His eyes landed on an unfamiliar guy. “Good Morning again. Did you have a nice nap?” said someone standing next to him, and slowly he got his brain in gear. “Oi Alex!”.  Brock looked back at the unfamiliar guy in the mirror. If it wasn’t for the face, he saw nothing that would clue him in that it was him in the mirror. A fresh set of clothes and a fresh new haircut that somehow managed to look clean, athletic, trashy and aggressive, all at the same time. He was loving it. “Looking mint, mate!” he said, causing Alex to smile.

“I didn’t want to make any decisions for you while you were relaxing. Would you care for a nick or two in the brow?” “Hot looking, innit. Go for it, mate.” Alex took a small clipper and quickly made two slits in Brock’s left eyebrow with his steady hand. There was a piece of stale chewing gum in Brock’s mouth that bothered him. He felt he needed something, but this gum had given all it could. Discretely he took it out when Alex looked away, and stuck it under one of the chair’s armrests.

“Finally, we do have some time for ear piercings if you want.” “Sounds epic, mate.” While Alex went to pick up the piercing gun, Brock grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the desk in front of him, pulled out a fag, and put it in his mouth. Even though it wasn’t lit, it felt so much better to have something in the mouth. “I have these healing studs that look pretty good.” Alex held out a pair of cut glass studs. “You can switch them out for something fancier once healed in 6 weeks, if you want.” “Those are well nice. Fucking mint, innit.”

As Alex cleaned, pierced and finished with his ears, Brock considered what he saw in the mirror. If any of the wankers at the frat gave attitude he would kick them in the teeth. This was mint as fuck. If only he was allowed to light his fucking fag.

[airis-paris14]

Starlight (T. Udaku)

Summary: Amani is an orphaned heiress who's spent most of her life raising her younger sister. T'Challa is a widowed King and Father. Neither of them is expecting much from their night at the Lotus. But the coming months have many milestones in store for these young adults. Will becoming a family be one of them?

Warnings: None

A/N: Hey y’all. I know I’ve been absent for a little bit again. This story was on the top of my update list and Dress Up is next now that I’ve finished the update. Now I’ve only posted this story on Wattpad, and since the update really only helps them, I thought I get in my weekly update by posting this story from the beginning. I hope you all enjoy as much as my other stories. As always let me know if you wanna be on the tag list. I’ll be posting an account update soon with some news about stories and the Master list. Have a beautiful day guys.

2 || 

Amani watched from the doorway as her baby sister packed up her suitcase. "You know you don't have to watch me pack. I'm a big girl." Amare Okeke looked up smiling. Amani walked over to help her zip the suitcase. "You're barely old enough to fly alone baby girl."

"Amani I'm 17."

"I know. I know. My baby girl is all grown up." Amani pulled Amare into a tight hug. "Maybe I should just keep you here this semester."

"Amani....."

I know, I know. Massachusetts Institute of Technology is paying your tuition, so I guess I gotta put you on that plane."

Amare chuckled. "I think they'd miss me too much if you didn't."

Amani scooped the younger girl into a hug. "Just be safe kid. Don't talk to strangers and no joining the mile high club."

Amare groaned and shuddered. "Okay, it's definitely time for you to go, don't wanna be late for work."

Amani laughed, "Be safe okay. Come back to me in one piece."

"I promise, scouts honor," Amare raised three fingers as she pushed her older sister out of the door. "Just one more hug," Amani begged. Amare shook her head, and shoved the car keys in her sister's hand. "Out," she pointed to the 23-year-old. Amani ran in for one last hug before hopping in her car. She waved three times more before pulling out of the drive and into the city traffic. Her Lexus weaved in and out of traffic as she headed to her day job. The Lotus was more of a pass time than an actual job. It paid a decent amount, and she got to work with her friends.

Twenty minutes later Amani pulled into The Lotus's back parking lot. She gathered all of her things and headed in to help work the closing shift. She scanned her key card and pushed open the heavy security door. The kitchen staff seemed to be winding down from the dinner rush. It was only seven and most of the tables had been served and were waiting to pay. Amani dropped her things in the break room before heading out to help the other waitresses.

" Well look what the cat dragged in." A petite woman teased from behind the bar. "Hello to you too Sakura."

"Hey, Mani! Can you cover this last table for me while I set up for tomorrow?" Madiyson asked as she nodded at a man and a little girl who walked into the restaurant.

"I just got here! What about 'Kura? She's here too."

Sakura glared at Amani from behind her magazine. "It would really mean the world to me if you could do it, Amani..." Madiyson puppy dog eyed her.

"Fine," Amani sighed, fixing her thick curls. They both stared at her arranging her twist out.

"What he is cute!" The black woman blushed grabbing a kid's menu and a menu."He has a daughter." Kura pointed out. Amani walked over to the sink to wash her hands, grabbed the nearest dish towel, and leaned again the counter to check her teeth in the mirror.

"But I don't see a ring," Madiyson pointed out as she grabbed a fresh washcloth. She winked before she hurried away to wipe down tables. Sakura laughed and turned back to her magazine.

Amani hastily checked her reflection once more before walking out onto the main floor. The little girl waved as the woman approached the podium."Hi! Welcome to The Lotus. Just you two tonight?" The man nodded. "If you'll follow me then." The small group walked to a booth. Amani fished into her small apron and took out a notepad. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"I'll have water," he smiled at the young woman. His voice and that smile practically melted Amani right then and there. The young woman pulled herself together to write down his order.

"Ada did you want anything?" he asked the little girl across the table from him.

"Do you have strawberry lemonade?" She asked in a sweet voice.

"No, but I may have something just as good. If you don't like it I'll bring you something else. How does that sound?"

The little girl grinned and nodded her head.

"I'll let you look over the menu while I get your drinks."

As the waitress walked off she heard the little girl whisper to her father. "Baba she's pretty!" Amani blushed and rushed over to the bar, desperate to hide the growing flush of her face. As she mixed the little girl's drink at the bar Madiyson and Sakura began drying cups beside her.

"So who's the beautiful stranger?" Sakura was the first one to speak nudging Amani on the side. "That's what we're calling him?" Madiyson rolled her eyes. Amani laughed as she felt Madiyson nudge her other shoulder. "He's watching you," she whispered. The sister looked up quickly at the man and his daughter before grabbing napkins and straws.

"His voice, god it's sexy. He has an accent though. It sounds dark and a little  controlling, but warm at the same time." Amani hastily revealed as she worked to keep her hands busy. Madiyson grinned "Oooh! You like him!"

Sakura face-palmed as guests looked up at the commotion."Keep your voice down," Amani hissed as she grabbed the drinks. "I just think he's cute. Besides he may not even be single. There's no way I'm that lucky," She blushed as she walked towards the bar exit. "You won't be getting lucky either if Madiyson keeps yelling stuff like that out loud," Sakura grinned as Madiyson slapped her on her shoulder.

Amani shook her head and walked out to the table. She set the drinks down in front of the little girl and her father. The young waitress gestured toward the drink as the little girl took a sip. Her face lit up and she smiled before drinking some more. "I'm guessing you like it," she smiled at the little girl before noticing the father smile at her. Amani's face churned up the color of a bouquet of roses. "Anybody ready to order?" Amani asked taking out her notepad.

"Yes, I'll have the filet mignon with green beans and mashed potatoes." He closed his menu and smiled at her."Rare, Medium Rare, or well done?" The young woman looked up expectantly, instantly regretting meeting his eyes. Her knees went weak."Well done please." He folded his arms on the table.

Amani smiled before looking at the little girl, "what is a Mac and cheese?" Ada asked politely."You've never had Mac and cheese?" The young woman exclaimed feigning shock. "Oh my goodness, it's this really creamy bowl of amazingness. You wanna know what I eat mine with?" The little girl giggled nodding. Amani leaned down and whispered in her ear. "I eat mine with Chicken tenders."

The little girl nodded."Good choice, I'll have mine with chicken tenders too then." The brown woman smiled at the girl before writing it down."Fabulous choice princess," Amani smiled as the little girl giggled before her mouth dropped open. "How'd you know I was a Princess?" The man shook his head at the little girl. She went quiet.

"Oh, I'm sorry if I got her in trouble." Amani apologized.

"No, no she's not in trouble. I am T'Challa and this is my princess Ada." At the mention of her name the little girl grinned. "It's nice to meet you both, Amani." She smiled at them both. "I'll have your food out shortly."

The young waitress walked back to the kitchen, handed her ticket in for her table and wrote for herself for a to-go meal."Find anything else out?" Sakura asked as she walked in handing over a ticket. "His name is T'Challa. And he's got money." The woman looked up. "How'd you find out he had money?"

"He ordered Filet Mignon. How many people in this area order filet mignon?" Amani said as she grabbed the plates from the window. "Besides us, and that's only when Mrs. Ella needs to get rid of it."

"Businessmen mostly, we just never give you the big ballers," Madiyson smirks as she drops off her ticket."Are you serious?" Sakura nodded. Amani rolled her eyes, "I'm feeling the love," she sassed as she headed back into the dining room.

"Aww don't be mad Mani!" Madiyson called as Sakura cackled. The young woman huffed as she carried the food out to her table.

"Baba, I want to go somewhere fun tomorrow!" The little girl insisted as her father laughed. "You did not enjoy the Museum?" His eyes twinkled as she huffed. Amani chuckled silently as she set the plate down in front of Ada. "Maybe your Mac and cheese will make you feel better," Amani suggested as she handed T'Challa his steak. "If you don't mind me asking, what Museum did you go to?" He smiled, clearly glad someone was interested.

"We went to the High Museum of Art," Amani had to stifle her laughter at his reply.

"Princess Ada, how old are you?" Amani asked as the laughter threatened to pour out of her. "Four," The little girl proudly displayed four fingers.

She could hold back no longer. A full-bellied laugh rolled out of her.

"What?" T'Challa protested as Ada began to giggle too. He sighed as he waited for the two females to stop laughing. "I'm sorry, but you took a four-year-old to the High?" She smiled as she tucked the serving tray under her right arm."There was an exhibit of children's illustrators." He defended himself."But baba," The little girl interjected, "we don't live here I've never read any of those books."

Amani smiled. "Maybe you should try the aquarium, it's one of the best in the country.  There's also this really big Ferris wheel Princess," the little girl's face lit up as she chewed up her chicken tender."Chew with your mouth closed Ada," her father gently reminded smiling at his daughter.

"I'll let you guys eat and be back soon."

The young woman couldn't keep the goofy smile off of her face as she helped refill salt and pepper shakers as Madiyson refilled condiments. "So is he feeling it? Is there a wedding I should start planning."

"No Madiyson you won't be planning ��anything." Amani grinned as she put the salt back in the closet. "And I don't know, you don't usually go up to a stranger and say 'Hi, I'm single. Are you single?"

"Well don't ask him like that," Madiyson scoffed as she replaced the top on a ketchup bottle. "I see why you're still single," she laughed. Amani whirled around and threw some salt from the counter at her. "Haha, very funny."  Amani looked out the window to see T'Challa raise his hand.

"I'll be right back," the waitress walked over to the table. "We need a check?" T'Challa nodded as Ada finished the last of her Mac and Cheese. "That Mac and cheese treat you right?" Amina smiled as Ada grinned. "Yes ma'am," she replied.

"Baba, can we get ice cream?" Ada begged as Amani gathered the dirty plates. "Not tonight Ada, maybe tomorrow, entle."

"Oh if you go to the aquarium there's a really good ice cream shop downtown." Amani smiled."Then it's settled we'll get ice cream tomorrow Baba," The young princess declared. T'Challa smiled at his daughter. "Your wish is my command princess."

"Cash or credit?" Amani asked as she stood with the dirty plates. "Cash," T'Challa called. His eyes caused the waitress's heart to flutter. She offered an award-winning smile and nodded. "I'll be right back." Amani walked back into the kitchen dumping the dishes into the sink."Girl don't break no dishes," an older woman yelled from the back. "Sorry Mrs. Ella!" Amani grimaced as she began printing a check.

"Find out anything else?" Sakura asked as she began loading the dishwasher. "He's a total pushover for his daughter." Amina smiled placing the check in a black holder.

When she walked out to the table it was completely empty. Save for a note and some bills underneath his glass.

Sorry I could not say goodbye. Here is some money for the check. Ada says goodbye as well and thank you for the Mac and cheese and being so pretty. I would be delighted if you would consider accompanying us tomorrow around the city.

T'Challa

His number scrawled at the bottom of the note sent fireworks straight to her eyes. Amani lifted the glass to find two hundred dollar bills. She smiled fondly before tucking the note in her back pocket. She quickly finished the tab and grabbed her order from the window.  She helped the rest of the staff to mop, sweep, stack chairs, clean dishes, put away dishes. As soon as the restaurant was locked up she waved goodbye to Mrs.Ella in the back and proceeded to hop and skip back to her car and speed home. Amani pulled up to her condo in the city her parents had given her before they passed. The young woman pulled off her shoes and walked up to the front steps. She placed her hand on the doorbell and let it scan her finger before opening the door. The off duty waitress placed her food in the microwave and blasted a Kendrick album before plopping onto the couch. She glanced at the clock before pulling out her phone. She quickly typed in T'Challa's number and typed a message.

Amani: Is this T'Challa? It's Amani, from The Lotus.

T'Challa: yes this is T'Challa. I'm so glad you texted me. I'm sorry to bother you but Ada would not stop talking about you. She would really like it if you could join us tomorrow.

Amani: just Ada?

T'Challa: We would both enjoy your company tomorrow.

Amani: Then I'd be delighted. What time?

T'Challa: 9:30 a.m. we do not wish to hold the masses back for long periods of time. We will pick you up.

The woman typed a quick goodnight. She made a point to text her little sister before grabbing her food and settling down with the music. The ping of her phone startled her. Licking her fingers she checked the clock and headed into the kitchen to grab her phone.

Amare: don't forget you promised to attend that after-party tonight. With mom and dad's work partners.

"Frick," Amani yelped hopping off of the couch. She was beyond late. She grabbed her phone and ran into her bedroom. A gown was hanging over her closet door. She grinned, knowing that Amare had left it there before she left. She took a quick shower, tried to refresh her hair, threw on some light makeup, and pulled on the dress. Texting a quick thank you to her sister, she searched for the invite email once again and decided her car would be faster than an Uber. Luckily the venue was downtown. Amani drove as fast as the floor-length gown and heels would let her. She skidded into the valet drive-in, tossed the young man her keys, took a deep breath, and glided her way into the lobby.

Once in the elevator she touched up her makeup, fluffed the braided twist out bun, and sighed. The doors dinged open and she glided into the ballroom. Immediately she was surrounded by her parent's former employees. She smiled, shook hands, took some press pictures, made a couple of statements to reporters, before taking refuge in the corner. The part-time waitress grabbed a flute of champagne to sip as she perused. One of her dad's partners smiled and moved in her direction. Mentally preparing for the longest conversation of her life, Amani took a long gulp of champagne. "Long time no see!" Harold Armon smiled. "Hello Mr. Armon," Amani rolled her shoulders back and plastered on a smile.

"How are you, dear girl? How is your little sister? Amira?" He reached out to touch her shoulder.

"Amare," the older sister corrected. "Right, right!" Harold beamed, squeezing the young woman's shoulder. Amani shrugged his hand off. "She's fine. She left this morning to finish off her second semester at MIT."

"That's brilliant, she always was bright like your father. Is she thinking about running the company when she comes of age?" he pried. Amani frowned, "No. Our parents always wanted us to choose our own route in life. She decided that she didn't want to run the business."

"That is too bad. I could have been a great help. You all could have relied on me to take over the business. Then you wouldn't have to worry your pretty little head about all the men's work-" Amani zoned out as the man tried to persuade her to appoint him to a top position. She already knew his game. These conversations were why she hated coming to the parties. 

When her parents had died unexpectedly, Amani and Amare had been thrown into the world of office politics. As soon as the plane crashed in that Pennsylvania field, her phone was flooded with calls. Her father's lawyers advised her not to talk to anyone until she and Amare were together. They brought, the then 15-year-old, Amare out of school and down to Atlanta. Within a matter of hours, Amani had to decide who would take over the company in her parent's absence. She promoted her father's CFO, and her mother's assistant. She made sure that she put money away for her and Amare to live on. Then she handed the company over, operationally at least. She and Amare were still obligated to show their faces, and be present at board meetings. They weren't required to vote, but when they did, their word was law. Hence the groveling, and somewhat misogynistic, man standing in front of her.

She nodded along, taking to chance to glance at her side, where she saw T'Challa. His suit immaculately pressed and tailored. A ring flashed on his left hand and Amani felt her heart drop slightly. She blushed when he looked up and noticed her staring, she waved before tuning back into Harold.

"Brookman's first-quarter report does not look like it will be that promising. I think that if I were in that position I would avoid this merger with Wakanda and their king-" The man faltered, and tripped over his words. His eyes going wide at something behind her. Turning to look Amani saw T'Challa walking towards them. She returned his smile when he moved to greet her. "Amani."

"T'Challa-"

"Your highness." Harold quickly dropped into a stiff bow. "There's no need for that. Mr.-" T'Challa laughed.

"Armon" Harold stuck out a hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Armon," T'Challa placed his hands behind his back, forcing his posture upright. Harold brought his own hand back into his side. "Do you mind if I borrow your conversation partner?"

"Oh well, we were-"

"I will make sure you get to see her before the night is over," T'Challa gripped Amani's hand and pulled her away. She gave Mr.Bowdman a quick goodbye before falling into step with T'Challa. "Thank you," Amani laughed while strolling with the man.

"I can always sense a damsel in distress."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. It's my superpower," the businessman whispered. Amani chuckled as she wrapped her arm through his. "Though I am surprised to see my waitress here. At the Okeke Tech Industries donor party."

"Are you suggesting that I cannot contribute based on my meager salary?"

T'Challa raised his hands in defeat, "I am merely suggesting that there is something you are not telling me, Amani." The undiscovered royal laughed.

"I believe that Ms.Okeke would be more formal T'Challa."

"Ah, you are the mysterious, and rumored to be beautiful, Okeke heiress.

"I wonder which of those intrigues you more. Beautiful or mysterious?" she teased.

"I quite prefer mysteries. Your beauty is just a bonus." The two smiled at each other. "It is nice to formally meet you, Ms. Okeke."

"What are you doing here?" Amani asked, grabbing a flute of champagne from the passing waiter. "I am here to check on my future assets. Make sure everything runs right."

"You're the one buying my parent's company?"

T'Challa winked, grabbing the flute of champagne from Amani and taking a sip. The woman blushed as he handed it back. "I was never told who the buyer was," Amani added, taking another sip from the same place on the glass. "His Majesty King T'Challa Udaku, at your service Ms. Okeke," the king bowed to kiss her hand. Amani choked a little, as the news slammed into her. "King?"

"Yes, please do try to keep up Ms.Okeke," The king chuckled while he grabbed a flute of champagne for himself. He extended his arm once more for the heiress and they continued to stroll about the room, eventually ending up on the balcony. They sat next to each other on a stone bench, each admiring the night sky. "You look beautiful tonight," T'Challa turned, staring at Amani's profile. "I've always been told starlight is my best light," Amani teased, blushing once her eyes met T'Challa's. She grabbed the king's cup and took a long drink.

The sounds of the party wrapping up brought both of them out of their isolated dream world. "May I walk you to your car?" T'Challa extended a hand to help Amani up and off of the bench. "If you would like," Amani smiled. The two walked side-by-side, bypassing anyone who wanted their attention. "Are we still on for tomorrow?" Amani broke the silence.

"Of course. I await our reunion with earnest."

"I guess I should text you my address then."

"I guess you should."

Amani pulled out her phone and quickly sent a text with her information. Placing her phone back in her purse, she looked up at the king. The valet pulled up with her car and she let her smile falter. "I guess I'll see you in the morning."

"I'll see you in the morning, Ms. Okeke." T'Challa smiled, placing a kiss on the back of her hand. She got into the car and sighed as it pulled away from the curb.

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[aboutcaseyaffleck]

BOSTON BY CASEY AFFLECK

October 25, 2020 For the record, what follows is nostalgia, false memories, and generalizations. But it’s all true. I grew up in Cambridge, Massachusetts, across the Charles River from Boston proper. Cambridge was one of the most diverse, multicultural cities in America. It was a beautiful, colorful, vibrant place. People from all over the world lived there, all mixed-up together. It is the place I was born and will return to, God willing. It is the city with the smells and sounds and tastes and people I love the most. Despite how much I loved it, when I look at old photos, I often look like this:

I’m in the front in the blue shirt. My best friend was Michael, the tall kid in the red shirt, whose family came from Barbados. Through the middle school years, anytime we weren’t in school we were roaming the streets like Dickensian urchins.

In the ‘90s, Cambridge got rid of rent control. Families who had lived there for four or five generations were squeezed out. Now the city is gentrified; but when I was growing up there, it was scrappy and beautiful. It was mostly working people, except for West Cambridge—where wealthy families lived, where professors lived. Where Cornel West, Yo-Yo Ma, and the Governor lived. East Cambridge was working-class Portuguese families, butcher shops, funeral parlors, and tow yards. Cambridgeport, where I lived, was mostly poor, Italian, Black, Greek, and Irish families. North Cambridge had some big housing projects and the school where my mom taught fifth grade—in a gigantic cement structure called The Tobin School that felt like it was far away because I would have to take a train AND a bus to get there. In reality, it’s like three miles from where we lived.

This is me hanging out in her classroom:

As people and places evolve, the past always reveals blemishes unseen at the time. However, Massachusetts manages, as time unfolds, to be a place that was so often on the right side. Not always, but often enough that I am proud to be from Cambridge, Massachusetts, no matter what.

From Massachusetts came the first national publication denouncing slavery, America’s “first feminist”, and The Cambridge Woman’s Suffrage League, which formed in 1886. My high school had the first girl to play tackle football in that division. Cambridge voted-in the first openly gay African-American mayor in our country. Right now our mayor is a very popular and forward-thinking Muslim woman who immigrated from Pakistan named Sumbul Siddiqui. We have marvels of architecture, science, and tech. It was in Cambridge that the very first email was ever sent (and received). And every year the Red Sox stand up to the wealthier bullies from the Bronx. These are all things we are immensely proud of, but nobody is resting on these laurels.

I am going to tell you about the places I remember fondly, whether they are still there or not.

Luckily, the city’s history isn’t going anywhere, and it hasn’t lost all of its charms. It is a place best seen by walking. So just walk. It’s also seasonal. Different activities for different seasons. But if you can hoof it for a few miles do this: start at the Old North Church and go by Paul Revere House, through Faneuil Hall, by The Old State House through Boston Common, through the Back Bay, go left and pass through Roxbury, another left, and go through South Boston till you hit the water and go left till you hit the Children’s Museum. Sit down and relax. If you just want a path, walk that. Map it or wander around. The city is full of little back streets with lots of character.

MY BOSTON FAVORITES

When looking for things to do and see in the area, you can ask ten people and get ten different answers. You will get a long list of historical buildings, or you will get names of some of the country’s prettiest parks, or you will get pointed toward the campuses of some of the very best schools in the world. But for every Bunker Hill, there are ten other places you haven’t heard of. So I am going to tell you about the places I remember fondly, whether they are still there or not. The thing about Boston is you can miss all the best stuff, and you will still leave thinking it is one of the best cities on Earth. Have fun. 

Pinocchio Pizza, Harvard Square. I asked my son to describe it. He says, “the food is good but the vibe is fire, old school; whatever, just get a slice and sit on the ground. That’s why I like it.”  I have no idea why he wants to sit on the ground, but I guess that’s part of the charm of the place. We’re both vegan so we both scrape the cheese off and eat bread and sauce. That should tell you something.

Oleana Restaurant on Hampshire Street in Cambridge. Chef Ana Sortun is a baller. The food is Turkish inspired, and it is delicious. Always. Friendly people, pretty inside, and it is in a nice residential neighborhood. My dad lived in an apartment a few blocks away behind a Store 24 until he was evicted back in 1989.

Maharaja, Harvard Square. Incredible Indian food. And it has one of the only third-story views of Harvard Square.

Veggie Galaxy is great diner food. It is vegan. It has breakfast, lunch, dinner, milkshakes and other deserts. All day and all night food that is filling and really good.

Life Alive Organic will serve you the healthiest and heartiest meal you can find anywhere. It’s across the street from City Hall, the post office, and the oldest YMCA in the country.

Cantab Lounge, where my dad was a bartender, and then a janitor when he was too drunk to be a bartender. I drank six thousand ginger ales, sitting in the corner at a sticky table while he worked. Forever it was a bar for postal workers that opened at 10 am, where alcoholics ate hard-boiled eggs from jars that had been sitting on the bar top for two weeks. A couple of days after initially writing this, I got an email from the owner. It is being sold after tens of thousands of years. I don’t know why I care because I don’t exactly have any fond memories from the place, but seeing the brick-and-mortar of your childhood torn down is a kind of mid-life, coming-of-age moment. Life is change.

Darwins Ltd coffee shop and attached mini-grocer and sandwich spot. If you get a coffee and then walk west two blocks on Mt. Auburn St. you will discover on your right a nice little park with a fountain to hang out. It is called Longfellow Park. Or you can look to your left and you will see the Charles River, and you can stroll there.

Fomu for dessert.

Zhu Pan Asian Cuisine and True Bistro for good vegan food.

Newbury Comics is famous and cool. 

Million Year Picnic is for comic connoisseurs. They are both great. And they were both plagued by roving bands of middle school thieves in my day. The most notorious was named Mathew Maher. He is now a well-known theater actor on Broadway and appeared in the comic book movie Captain Marvel. But back then he stole shit.

Harvard Coop is the best place to browse for books. Especially the kids section. We spend hours there and nobody kicks us out.

After the game ended everyone would come out and buy sausages [from me] on their way home, then I would clean up and go into a bar outside the park, where my boss was drinking and I’d wait till he was done so I could get a ride home. I was 12 years old. A couple of years ago I threw out the first pitch. Life is change.

The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum is my favorite museum in town, maybe anywhere. It was once her home and it features an indoor garden that is perfect. It also has a great collection of art from around the world.  Back on March 18, 1990, two famous paintings were stolen from the museum. As I remember it, a couple of guys showed up in the morning in police uniforms and the guard let them in. They tied the guard up and took a dozen paintings—Vermeer, Rembrandt, Degas—and vanished. The FBI never found them and never found the art. There are two plaques below two empty spaces on the walls to this day. On some days, classical musicians perform in random rooms while you walk around. You won’t want to leave.

Fenway Park. Greatest professional sports arena of any kind. I used to sell sausages in front of the Cask ‘N Flagon, a bar behind The Green Monster.

 It is the best baseball bar in the country. When everyone was in the park watching the game, and there was nobody buying food, I would go in and find a seat and watch the game with whoever I was working with; I have seen hundreds of games from every part of the park. After the game ended everyone would come out and buy sausages on their way home, then I would clean up and go into a bar outside the park, where my boss was drinking and I’d wait till he was done so I could get a ride home. I was 12 years old. A couple of years ago I threw out the first pitch. Life is change.

Plimoth Plantation is a living museum in Plymouth, which is 40 minutes from Boston. It is amazing. The actors working there are some of the best I have seen anywhere. If you are even mildly interested in history you have to go there.

Fresh Pond is where you can go running or biking. Two and a half-mile loop. 

Or you could hit The Emerald Necklace which is a great run that hits many of the best green areas, Franklin Park included. When we were young we would hop the fence and swim in the water. That isn’t done anymore ever, and everyone has grown up and leading better, more responsible lives.  

John Weeks Footbridge is a very pretty, very old, brick walking bridge that spans the Charles River. Watching the Charles Regatta from here is awesome. That is in the Fall. But it’s also great any night.  

The King School is a grade school not too far from there. It has maybe the best playground in the city. If you are there in the summer you can just walk on. When I was a kid, the King School is where a girl went who I was head over heels in love with. I finally got a shot at winning her heart in my early twenties and blew it.

Mount Auburn Cemetery is beautiful if you like that kind of thing. Lots of cool people are buried there, and the trees and stones are really nice. It’s a maze but just walk uphill. You will reach a monument with a great view of the city.

The American Repertory Theater puts on good plays. I grew up going there cause a friend of my mother’s directed many of the shows and could sneak us in the back. I wasn’t the adult making that decision; had I known better I would have scraped together the ticket price and supported the arts.

Boston Common is beautiful but you have to avoid all the shopping around it. If you have to shop go to:

NOMAD on Mass Ave in Cambridge is a store that you shouldn’t miss. In a world lost to chain stores and general homogenization of everything, Nomad is the real deal. Deb Colburn has been curating this place since I was ten. It is her store, and she has been trying to wake people up to folk art from around the world since Reagan was in office.

Bodega is a hidden high-end sneaker and casual wear store that must be entered through an unmarked door inside a bodega on a nearby side street. It’s cool how they have done it. Great presentation. Kids will like it.

KIDS ACTIVITIES

There are lots of things you can force your kids to do—things they won’t like the sound of at first, but will ultimately enjoy.

IMAGE CAPTIONS, LEFT TO RIGHT

On a rainy day, hop on the T and ride around town all day reading comics. Then stand outside in the warm rain (kids from LA don’t get this much).

Looking at murals. Cambridge has great murals everywhere. They are old and, incredibly, not vandalized. This one has been on this wall near the river since I was a kid. The child is mine and he is sick of walking around Cambridge.

If you feel like a pilgrim hit the gift shop at Plimoth Plantation.

Playing chess at Leavitt & Pierce Tobacco. You can inhale the scent of pipe tobacco without smoking it, and rent a chess set, clock, and table for $2 an hour in a beautiful old, wood-paneled shop with great ambiance.

Going to the oldest YMCA in the country.

Kayaking on the Charles River. You can get your kayak on Soldiers Field Rd. Take it east under all the bridges until you get to the inlet at Kendell Sq. It will all be clear. It will take about an hour.

Climbing the stairs at Harvard Football Stadium.

Reading books at the Harvard Coop.

NEARBY BOSTON

If you wanna go a little farther, go out to Gloucester for the day. Swim, eat, walk around, go back.

Whale watching sounds like a lame tourist trap but seeing whales up close will change the way you think about life on Earth.

You can take the ferry from Downtown Boston to Provincetown. It is a great place to visit or stay a few days while in town. Ptown is the eastern-most point on the continent. I might be making that up, but it’s close. It’s an arm that sticks out into the Atlantic. It’s really lovely there with a great vibe all around. You can’t have a bad time and everyone is super happy to be there. The beaches are all beautiful.  Sharks mostly only eat the seals and won’t come any closer to shore than two feet—but if you want to see a great white up close, we can make that happen.

Cape Cod has some great flea markets.  If you plan on spending time on vacation with your family you can find some essentials, like a medieval battle helmet, at the flea market.

SALEM, MASSACHUSETTS

30 minutes on the local train line from downtown. Made famous by the Salem witch trials; a fun place to visit and walk around for about 128 minutes. Newburyport and Rockport lines, which depart from Boston’s North Station, stop at the Salem station. You can go into the homes of people who lived during the witch hunt.

The House of the Seven Gables, made famous by American author Nathaniel Hawthorne‘s novel The House of the Seven Gables, is a 1668 colonial mansion in Salem, Massachusetts named for its gables. The house is now a non-profit museum, with an admission fee charged for tours, as well as an active settlement house with programs for children. It was built for Captain John Turner and stayed with the family for three generations.

The Jonathan Corwin House in Salem, Massachusetts, known as The Witch House, was the home of Judge Jonathan Corwin. It is the only structure still standing in Salem with direct ties to the Salem witch trials of 1692, thought to be built between 1620 and 1642. Corwin bought it in 1675 when he was 35, and he lived there for more than 40 years. The house remained in the Corwin family until the mid-19th century and is located in the McIntire Historic District. 

A MECCA FOR ARTISTS

Lastly, for centuries, Cambridge has been a mecca for artists, especially writers. Here are some spots to see if you like that kind of thing:

The corner of JFK Street and 1390 Massachusetts Avenue. This is a good spot. Here is why: America’s FIRST PUBLISHED POET was a woman named Anne Bradstreet who died in 1672 and lived on this spot! It went through lots of changes, and 300 years later, by the time I was walking around, it became a great burger place called THE TASTY. In 1996 or whatever, The Tasty appears in the movie Good Will Hunting in the scene when Matt Damon kisses Minnie Driver. It might have also appeared in the film Love Story back in the 70s. I mix them up. Now it is a CVS.  God help us.  

The Longfellow House. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow lived at 105 Brattle Street. The great poet taught at Harvard and lived in the Georgian mansion from 1837 until his death in 1882. Before the author, George Washington used the house as his headquarters during the Siege of Boston. The house is open to the public, and it is where I had my eighth-grade graduation ceremony. The mayor attended and forgot the name of our school in his address to the kids. I heard people mutter that he was drunk. I can’t blame him. I had my first drinks hours before that ceremony.

71 Cherry Street, Cambridge. The woman considered to be American’s FIRST feminist, Margaret Fuller, was born and lived here.

Henry and Alice James lived at 20 Quincy Street. The house was knocked down in 1930 and the Harvard Faculty Club was erected there.

W.E.B. DuBois lived at 20 Flagg Street. The writer and pioneer of civil rights rented a room in this Cambridgeport home from 1890 to 1893. This is blocks from my childhood home. He was the first African American to receive a degree from Harvard.

Robert Frost lived at 35 Brewster Street. Frost, who attended high school in Lawrence, Massachusetts, lived in the West Cambridge home from 1943 to 1963.

T.S. Eliot lived at 16 Ash Street.

E.E. Cummings lived at 104 Irving Street. He was an innovator. He also wrote a poem about “Cambridge Women”. He lived at the Irving Street home from 1892 until about 1917.

Also you can find homes of the genius Nabokov and the great and beloved Julia Childs if you look around.

Source

[shaekingshitup]

My Type

A/N: I finally did it! There are probably hella typos because the app I was writing this in kept on autcorrecting everything. But I tried to clean em up. I can already think of things I wanna do differently. But i’m just happy that I’m being consistent and doing something. I ACCIDENTALLY PUT IN A “KEEP READING” JUST BEFORE I POSTED THIS. WOW. How did I do that?

Edit: I learned how I put the “Keep Reading” there and I am re-posting because my old blog was trash thanks to staff.

Songs I was listening to try and get me in the mood for this fic are here. But I trust your imagination to feel what a club setting is like. You ain’t gotta press play boo,

Warning: cursing, “the - n word”

Dani was out there givin it her all. She had to because she knew the DJ was gettin ready to spin this Petey Pablo single into her summer anthem. That shit would have her goin nuts in no time.

Hennessy on my lips

“Oh bitch, this is yo shit!” screamed Rachelle, digging in between her breasts to pull out her phone. She always had to take it to the Snap.

Hennessy on my lips

The DJ was messing with them at this point. This was about to be the third time he had teased Dani with the first line of the song. If he kept playin, she was gone have a lot of words for him in the parking lot when his set was over. She hated when they did that shit.

Hennessy on my lips, take a little sip

Privacy on the door, I'ma make the shit grip

Rachelle was hollering, “Ayyyyyy, that’s my best frannnd!” loud enough for damn near everyone in the club’s attention to be drawn to Dani.

As if someone had flipped a switch, Dani started twerkin like her life depended on it. You would have thought she was auditioning to be the lead for City Girls’ Twerk music video. All the ladies were on the floor shaking their asses. But no one was out there throwin it in circles the way Dani was- and she knew it.

Rich nigga, eight-figure, that’s my type

That’s my type, nigga that’s my type

Eight-inch big, ooh, that’s good pipe

Bad bitch, I'ma ride the dick all night

Dani was in a full squat pretending like she really had something or rather someone to ride on the floor with her. She was glad she’d chosen to rock her black romper with the white vertical stripes and the denim jacket to go over it instead of her bodycon dress. If she’d put that on tonight, the fabric would be around her waist at this very moment. Typically, she was so engrossed in her song that she didn’t even take into account the rest of the world. But this time was different. She felt…off. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone. Glancing up to the V.I.P. balcony she saw why. There was one fine ass man watching her get down. He was leaning on the guard rail devouring her with his eyes as if she was his personal seven-course meal. Dani couldn’t look away. His gaze was far too intense and he held a beguiling smolder she couldn’t begin to match. Not in public in front of all of these strangers at least.  

The moment the song was over, Dani straightened up and this nigga had the audacity to wink at her as she made her exit from the dance floor. She turned and grabbed Rachelle by the hand so they could re-fuel at the bar. Her Fairy Thot Mother really brought out the best in her. Yet every time the song was over, she needed a moment to recuperate. Sipping her Between the Sheets, Dani had to yell at Rachelle to get her attention again. Her gaze was fixated on the V.I.P level and who she could make out up there.

“Rachelle, are you listening to anything I am saying to your ass?” Dani fussed.

“Danica Albany Jones. Yo ass should know by now that I can multitask better than most can focus on one task for the rest of their lives. I hear you. You had a fine ass nigga scoping you out while you was getting it and now you’re tryna to make your dance floor fantasy a reality,” Rachelle stated still focused on the balcony.

“Fantasy? Nobody said all dat!” she kissed her teeth and rolled her eyes at Rachelle’s antics. She hated when Rachelle listened to her without looking at her. It was rude as hell and even more frustrating when the bitch was able to repeat everything she’d uttered just moments before.

“Got em!” Rachelle shouted turning back to Dani. Trying to play it cool, Dani forced herself to avert her eyes from the balcony and waited for her to clarify. “Damn, I can’t believe he really in her with that trick Trina.” Immediately, Dani slanted her eyes at her about-to-be replaced best friend.

“You really are out here checkin for Shad? I thought you were done messin with his ass?” Dani loved her best friend and she knew she was a woman on a mission. She wanted a man with a bag. She was strategic about it all and not subtle by any means. She could always tell you who was in the V.I.P section and had that shit mapped out like she drew up the damn blueprint herself. She had messed with a few ballers and other money makers. But she was perpetually stuck on stupid with Shad. He didn’t even meet the criteria for her future husband. But, the dude must have made up for what he lacked in height and net worth in the bedroom because Rachelle was rarely able to stay away for long.

“Don’t worry about what I’m doing tonight. Yo scary ass needs to go find yo stalker.” Rachelle shot back. As if she summoned the devil himself, Dani turned her head to his section and saw him eyeing her again. Once he realized he had her attention, he beckoned her up to his section with a slight head tilt towards the bouncer at the V.I.P entrance.

“Did you-“ before she could even get it out, Rachelle was downing the rest of her drink and pulling Dani towards the staircase.

“Just follow me, I know the area.” Rachelle threw over her shoulder as they wove through the crowd. Dani rarely went out- let alone found herself in the V.I.P section of any club so she held on a little tighter to Rachelle’s hand as they approached the bouncer.

“Hey Mike,” Rachelle offered peeping past him to the booth so she could see Shad occupying a smaller booth with Trina sitting on his knee.

“Rachel. How you doin tonight? I see you brought a new friend” Big Mike countered. He knew her name was Rachelle just like she knew his names was Big Mike. So long as she continued to call him out of his name, Big Mike was determined to do the same. Petty sees as petty does.

“Danica” Dani said a she extended her hand and smiled up at Big Mike. Already she’d won him over faster than Rachelle’s ass ever could. Big Mike turned around and verified that there was someone else on the other side of the velvet rope expecting the ladies. When E provided a nod of approval. He let the ladies inside.

Dani had no idea what had come over her. Granted she didn’t go out often, but it wasn’t like she’d never encountered the opposite sex before this evening. Walking up the stairs towards this man was proving to be a more difficult feat than she’d ever imagined as her legs seemed to be gelatinizing with each step she took. Or maybe it was the alcohol. She had consumed a few shots of Henny at this point. Within V.I.P, Dani could see that he had a few booths for him and his people to occupy. Dani couldn’t even begin to take in his mini kingdom he’d established because she was too preoccupied by how good he looked up close. His short dreads were neatly pulled back into a ponytail towards the back of his head and on his frame he adorned a long white tee, an Amiri distressed denim jacket and a black pair of drop crotch jeans that didn’t do well to help her keep her eyes from droppin below his waist line. What distracted Dani the most, was the gold rimmed wire frames he adorned which were quite similar to her own pair. Gold was her favorite color and she loved it even better against some melanin. As she took the final steps to be in his presence, he called out “Hey, lil mama” welcoming her with a partial smile and a glimpse of his golds in the bottom row of throne-er mouth. If it weren’t for Rachelle tugging her around in that very moment she would have surely collapsed into his arms. Instead, as Rachelle turned her around to tell her some final piece of advice she ended up crushing her ass into his hand. Which, may not have been too much of an issue if his white shirt hadn’t taken on the amber brown from his Hennessy as a result.

“Fuck! Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry” Dani began as she stood bug eyed in from of this adonis of a man. He lifted up his shirt to assess the damage and see if it was soaked through thoroughly.

You’ve got to be kidding me. This man can’t be this fine at first glance and have a body like that. How many packs is that? 6? 8? Do they even got a word for that? Damn Dani get it together. You’re staring. Stop staring.

He chuckled. He was bemused by the situation. Nah by her.

Reach for her waist her bent out and growled, “Imma be right back. You and yo girl make yourself comfortable in the back booth,”  as he disappeared down the steps.

“Biiiitttchhh, how drunk are you?” Rachelle asked.

“I only had 1 shot of Henny and that Between the Sheets in the 2 hours we’ve been here. Why?” Dani questioned looking confused as hell. Rachelle should have been saying sorry. It was her fault that Dani’s ass ended up in the stranger’s hand anyways. Rachelle cut her eyes at her friend.

“Because the way you were talking about his body was bold as fuck when you don’t even know his name,” Rachelle cackled. She was low-key proud of her girl.  

“Aww fuck. I said that shit out loud? What kind of friend are you for letting me ramble on like that?!” Dani whisper yelled.

“The kind that’s about to put you on game,” Rachelle quipped back, “Okay so to your left you have the Hip Hop Descendants. These are all of the people who got daddies and mamas in the game. The only reason anyone puts up with them is because they parents are the pioneer of Hip Hop, Rap and everything in between as we know it. Some of em had a single or their own tv show coming up. But, if it wasn’t for their DNA we would all say IDC”

“Wait what about Shad? He’s over there and last time I checked his parents were just regular degular people like you and me,” Dani posed.

“Shad is unique in that he was in the game at a young age and just grew up in the industry,” Rachelle supplied.

“Okay. So Shad is the Aladdin of the Descendants because his parents weren’t present in the Hip Hop industry”

“I won’t even acknowledge that. Moving on, in the middle you have Black By Popular Demand. These are the people who the media thinks are Black purely due to association. These hoes got here because they all know how to suck, ride or have a nigga by they side. In doing so, Hollywood calls them trendsetters rather than Culture Vultures and let’s them act out as they please. We don’t really fuck with them or their crews.”

“Is that a Kardashian?”

“They always got at least one of them in that group. To your right, are your Single Housewives”

“That don’t make sense. How are you a housewife and single?”

“If you would stop interrupting, I would be done with my explanations by know.”

“Okay okay. I’m sorry Janice. Continue please,” that made Rachelle laugh.

“You so stupid. Okay as I was saying on your right are the Single Housewives. Most can be found on a segment which is currently airing on VH1 or trying to secure someone to get them on the network. They may have been a housewife or a girlfriend and some point, but for now they just opportunistic.” Dani keeps her word and doesn’t say anything. But she knew exactly where Rachelle was going to make a beeline for later on in the evening.

“Last but not least, we have the section we are in right now: The Heavy Hitters. The niggas in this section got bank. I’m talking numerous sources of income. Collectively, they could probably wipe out Cali’s debt. And from what I’ve heard, the one who is chosey with you ain’t just got big bank he got a real fat-“

“Y’all ladies good over here?” he said as he returned to his private booth.

“Yes,” they sang in a chorus. Somehow he’d managed to find an even more expensive white tee in the few minutes he’d been gone.

“Cool. We ain’t get to introduce ourselves earlier, I’m Erik,” he said picking up the carafe of Henny and a glass gesturing to Dani and Rachelle.

“I’m Rachelle and I’ll take mine’s to go,” she said extending her hand. She took it, saying her goodbyes and heading straight to the Single Housewives section where she was directly in Shad’s line of sight. She really thought she was slick.

Dani turned to find those eyes roaming her frame for the third time this evening.

“I’m Dani…and I’ll take a lil bit,” she managed to get out as he maintained his contact with her. He never broke it even as he offered her the glass, poured his own and sat down right next to her on the sectional.

“Okay lil bit”

“What’s that mean?”

He smirked. “It means, “he said while placing his hand on her thigh, “you really bout it this evening. Ain’t nothin bout you little. Yo shit match my shit and you won’t take them sexy ass eyes off me. That’s My Type indeed”

[aleapoffaithfiction]

VII.

"You learned to run from what you feel, and that's why you have nightmares. To deny is to invite madness. To accept is to control." ― Megan Chance

“See, Jesus was crucified, just for me.”

While leaning over to the side, I slyly slid another piece of my usual Mentos Pure Fresh “Fresh Mint” flavored gum into my mouth and sighed in relief at the immediate jolt of energy I felt as my teeth broke its round shape apart and the flavoring hit my taste buds. I had to sneak it, because like the child she often thinks that I am, but mother would have held out her gloved hand and viciously eyed me until I defeatedly spit it. According to her, it’s not ladylike to chew gum and especially in church, but I’m going to chew it regardless and I doubt God is concerned with that minuscule vice in my life.

“Give me a piece.” Celeste leaned over and whispered in my ear as she held her hand out and I dropped the bottle into her lap. She didn’t have as much of a chance of being caught as I did because I was sitting in the middle of both she and mommy.

We’re members of Emmanuel Baptist Church over on Lafayette Avenue. It’s right on the corner of St. James Place in the Clinton Hill section of Brooklyn and is under the leadership of Reverend Anthony L. Trufant and his wife Muriel. We’ve been fellows of this church for as long as I can remember and my mother is a good friend of the family; as was my father when he was living. There was even a point in time when I had somewhat of a friendship with their daughters but it was short lived because in my younger years I had far less of a tolerance for people who I cannot relate to. Celeste and I were baptized in this church, daddy’s memorial was here, and Celeste wed her now husband Preston here two years ago. Though I dreaded it, we used to come here every Sunday bright and early so that I wouldn’t miss Sunday school. I was in the youth group for a while but eventually bailed out on having to attend it because I heavily got into sports.

Every holiday season, I was forced to participate in the Christmas Nativity play, where I would play Mary no matter how much I wanted to be one of the Three Wise Men. I met the first guy I would have a crush on here, though it lasted all of a week. I was even apart of the choir for a short run and I’m not even sure why, because I’m no vocal powerhouse. I’m not even a vocal power shed if you let me tell it. Despite my lessening attendance over these last couple of years, I still consider this place to be my church home and it is where I will come back to until further notice.

“Sing it.” I glanced over at my mother as she raised a hand in response to Lucinda Moore’s voice. After days of calling and convincing me to come to Saturday night’s service simply for this concert, I finally agreed for the sake of appeasing her and I can’t say that I’m mad at it. Lucinda can sing from the depths of her gut and never fails to take a praise moment to its highest peak. She’s been in between singing and preaching for about an hour now with a sermon that calls for us all to “meet God all the way” because half-way isn’t going to cut it for anything that we do in life.

“Look at Mr. Weston.” As Lucinda continued to belt her way through “The Old Rugged Cross”, my eyes followed the direction of Celeste’s head and I instantly snickered at the sight of the older man ogling over my mother and her glimmering chocolate skin. Mr. Weston’s been trying his hardest to take my mother’s hand in marriage and yet she won’t even give him enough attention for him to take her out on a Saturday night date. I don’t think it’s her internal yearning for daddy that causes it.

Mr. Weston doesn’t even have finesse within his aging bones to woo her into sitting next to him during Sunday service. Then again, it might be the trifling aspects of who he is. When he received the phone call that his wife had been rushed to the hospital after having a sudden heart attack, he’d been out with his mistress and had the audacity to drive over to the hospital with the mistress still in the car with him. Mrs. Weston passed away that day, but every damn body sat up in here side eying the hell out of him as he wailed over her during the funeral. If it’s up to me, he’ll never date my mother because of all of that nonsense.

Mrs. Williams is the one who wants him. Or is it Mrs. Davis? Maybe Mrs. Wright? I lost count after the third husband. And then there’s her sister Denise who is about the most judgmental person I know. The woman has something to say about everyone’s kids except her own, especially her daughter Tiffany, who has made it her business and life’s mission to snag a baller. She may have secured a couple of hotel stays for some middle of the night fun, but a ring? Not even a Ring Pop. Church is where you’ll find the most hypocrisy but I suppose it makes perfect sense why that is.

“We should grab a bite to eat at The Food Sermon after this.” I’m all for healthy eating but there are just certain dishes that I’m not having in a healthy manner and Caribbean food is that. I’ll be damned if I eat pan seared jerked tofu as a jerk chicken substitute. Celeste and Preston are suddenly super obsessive with their newly started vegan lifestyle and I’m not joining them. It’ll probably be temporary anyway. He’s only doing it because she wants him to.

“Or we can go to Glady’s. Mommy won’t agree with you about that one, because she prefers Glady’s too.”

“Fine, brat.”

“I’ll be that.” I could have chosen somewhere that wouldn’t be in consideration of her new diet if I really wanted to be a brat, but I didn’t. Glady’s has vegetable dishes that should work out for the both of them.

“Shhh.”

I knew it was coming. If her hands weren’t covered with gloves, she might have pinched my arm. I’m always sat in the middle just so she can keep an eye on me because I’m known to find ways to distract myself in church if my mind isn’t completely focused on the sermon or choir. The Lord knows me well. I doubt he have as much of an issue with it as my mother does.

While buttoning the front of my Alexander Wang loose fitting blazer, I couldn’t help but to regret opting out of putting on the wool trench coat that I had laying across the backseat of the car. The nearly end of October air is a lot chillier than I thought it would be. Despite not being someone who enjoys extremely warm or cold weather, I always look forward to the fall because it’s when fashion is at its peak. There’s nothing like a sickening jacket with nice pop of autumn coloring in it, all entirely black look that is sleek, or heavy denim. Oh, and a thigh high heeled boot? Don’t even get me started. Tonight’s dress is a long-sleeved calf length Lowe piece with deep tan, red-orange, and white stripes cascading down it’s form. What really sold me on it is the black lace accents. It’s church friendly and yet if I were going on a lunch outing with Taylor, I’d be just as fine in it.

“Sarai.” Quinton’s hand immediately grazed my shoulder as our eyes met and though I smiled, it was in no way as big as the one gracing his caramel face. Quinton and I went to school together and yet never had any interactions until his father died in the same war that mine did, nearly a year apart. I suppose us dealing with the same level of grief is what served as the foundation of the friendship that we formed. We simply didn’t harbor it as life went on. We barely speak nowadays but I’m sure he’ll say that it’s my doing.

“Quinton. How are you?” We shared an appropriate hug and the fume of his strong cologne instantly made me draw back. It’s not pleasant.

“I’m well. How are you? I see you doing big things.”

“I’m the same. And I’m doing big things? Is that so Mr. Councilman?” He was elected a year ago and is over the Fort Greene, Clinton Hill, Crown Heights, Prospect Heights, and Bedford Stuyvesant neighborhoods. I definitely consider him to be a man of the people, because he could have run for a position within areas like Williamsburg, Dumbo, and Fulton Ferry and won. He’s that well celebrated within these streets.

“I’m not on ESPN though.”

“That’s nothing in comparison to the news coverage about you, the mentoring that I’m hearing you’re receiving from President Obama so that you can run for the Senate, and maybe even the Presidency later on down the line? I think you just want me to brag on you a bit.”

“I won’t stand here and pretend like I’m not flattered.” We shared a laugh that attracted the attention of a few others. I could see my mother eyes lighting up from the corners of my eyes. She’s barely paying attention to what Denise is saying to her.

“You know we’re all proud of you.”

“But you’ve yet to be proud of enough of me to allow me to take you out to dinner. You know we have history.”

That history he speaks of is not our friendship. The summer before we went off to college, we pity fucked one another after having had a conversation about our daddies that left the both of us emotionally drained. Though he wasn’t a virgin, he might as well had been because it was far more of an awkward encounter than it was anything else.

I won’t hold anything about that hot summer evening against him though. No seventeen-year-old boy has the stamina of a stallion and the skills of a veteran porn star within the bedroom. Quinton barely knew who he was personally, so how could he have known who he was as a pleaser? The same could be said for myself.

It was me who decided that we should go on as if it never happened. Hell, it still feels like it never happened. While Quinton is a nice-looking man, I’ve yet to have even the slightest interest in him beyond our occasional run ins.

“Here you go. It’s a timing issue more than anything.” See? I’m a hypocrite too. First, premarital sex. Second? I’m lying right here in the house of God. No matter what the circumstances are, a person will make time for who or whatever it is that they want.

“It can’t always be timing right? We should plan it out so that we won’t run into scheduling issues. I know you’re up there in Bristol a lot and your schedule can be just as crazy when you’re not and you know I’m quite busy myself but I’m willing to make the time for you Sarai.”

Whenever he asks me out, I find myself pondering if we share anything in common beyond what we already know or what we’ll speak about while sitting across from one another at some upscale restaurant of his choosing and I always draw a blank. From there, I snicker at the thought of whispered words about Brooklyn’s fiscal year preliminary budget or development with the deeper urban areas being his dirty talk or pillow talk within the bedroom. That aside, I’m not interested in being his First Lady. I don’t want to play that role, because that’s exactly what it is. Politics is full of actors with empty promises. I’m not saying that Quinton cannot be genuine, but even those type of politicians are just as good of liars as the crooked ones.

“You have my number. Call me. We’ll figure it out.”

“I will. Just make sure you pick up.” That was a cheap jab, but I’ll take it. Out of all of the women within this church who are vying for a chance to be Mrs. Quinton Jeremy Marshall, he constantly comes my way. Maybe that’s something? I don’t know. Only time will tell, but right now, it’s not saying much because I don’t feel anything.

“I will.”

“Hopefully I’ll be able to convince you that we’re a good match before some NBA guy does.” And there it is; the assumptions about what goes on in my life pertaining to athletes beyond work obligations.

“I don’t date athletes.”

“I’m not saying that you do, but there’s no denying that they’re interested in dating you. Unfortunately, I don’t catch the show often, but sometimes I do catch a couple of those one on one interviews you conduct on YouTube and they usually feel like one big lust fest. Doesn’t that make you uncomfortable?”

“I don’t notice it. Also, I feel like people overexaggerate things. These days, you can’t sit a male or female of no relation in the same room without people creating sexual scenarios. That just shows you how screwed up people’s mentalities are.” And that includes you Quinton. I’m not sure if it’s jealousy or indifferent written all over his face, but it’s something. And this is yet another reason why we cannot date. He’s the worst version of an alpha male because there are plenty of sexist undertones within the way he thinks and what he says. He’d expect me to diminish enough of myself in order for him to feel like the man when he’s parading me around some fundraiser or while I’m standing in his shadow as if he gives some speech.

“Or maybe you’re downplaying things. I watched Odell Beckham Jr. stare at you like you’re some type of rare species. I know what those type of looks are about. I am a man after all.” Are you?

“Maybe I am a rare species. We’re not all cut from the same cloth, right Quinton?”

“Maybe so.”

“I’ll see you around though. My stomach is growling and my folks are waiting for me.”

“Don’t forget what I said”

“About timing? I won’t. As I said, give me a call. We’ll figure something out.” And with that, I left him to stare at me as I walked towards the back of the church.

I didn’t feel compelled to hug him again because it would have been lingering on his end and easily would have attracted more attention than I would’ve liked. Despite there being a number of women around here who would love to be claimed by him, oddly, there are people who advocate for us. Even Reverend Trufant snuck in a joke about being willing to officiate our nuptials when the time is right. I’d rather not give Quinton or anyone else any false hope tonight or any other.

Rather than taking three cars, I drove everyone from mommy’s house over to the church. While it may have sounded pointless to them, I insisted that we go back and get Preston’s car so that I’ll be able to drive back to Edgewater right after dinner. I’m tired, cold, and I’m not staying out here tonight. She may have convinced me to come to service but spending the night at either one of their houses can quickly turn into a night of aggravation. I’m so used to living on my own that personality clashes happen as soon as my element is interrupted.

“That Quinton sure is fine.” I knew it was coming. It’d been on the tip of her tongue the entire time she sat in the passenger seat of my car, but I purposefully drowned her out with a couple of classics from Richard Smallwood. I knew she’d quickly began to sing along and forget about hounding me about him, but I should have known she’d only briefly put the thought aside. I can’t even enjoy this peppered shrimp and side of plantains now. Within a couple of minutes, the know it all will add in her warped opinion.

“Isn’t he?” How can she agree with her husband sitting right there alongside her?

“Is he still running for the Senate?” Preston directed that question to me as if I should know. I’ve only heard the rumors and it makes sense. I’m sure councilmen is only a stepping stone for a long running career in politics.

“I’m sure he will at some point.”

“And he’s looking for this one here to be his Michelle Obama and yet she’s running from it.”

“I’m not running from anything. I’m simply not interested. Michelle Obama is amazing and I admire the hell out of her, but not to the point of wanting to mirror her life. I doubt she’d want that for me either. This is a woman who has advocated for women to work hard to be exactly who it is that they want to be.” Michelle was never caught up into the dated traditionalisms of a woman needing a husband in order to look proper in society. She was already a lawyer when she met her now husband.

“And yet here she is, pushing away the one man who actually wants her enough to continue pursuing her.” If I were some tacky reality show chick, I would have made a scene in this restaurant but I won’t for the sake of my reputation.

“The one man who wants me?” I had to made sure I heard her correctly.

“That’s not how I meant it and you know it. You barely put yourself into situations to find someone.”

“I’m not looking.”

“And that’s the problem right there.” As soon as my mother interjected, I dropped my fork into the plate and rested against the back of the seat.

“For who? You?”

“She lives in a house about three times the size of mine and yet she’s in it alone.”

“I live in a house three times the size of yours because it’s what I worked for. I didn’t have to find a man to give it to me. I wanted it and went and got it. It’s not my fault that you can’t relate.”

Initially, I didn’t want to take any shots at her because I respect her lifestyle. She has a career, but it’s no secret that Preston is the breadwinner in their marriage and it works for them. They’re settled, happy, and are beginning to work on trying to have a baby. I rarely if ever label myself with the feminist title, but if I did, I wouldn’t be the type to frown down on women who want to be in the boardroom closing deals or at home raising their children and keeping the house put together. For as long as it is a choice, there is no judgement from me. But Celeste? She takes me there.

“Well lucky for me, I have a man who loves me enough to want to give me amazing things and the best part of it is we enjoy it together. I don’t live in a house three times smaller than yours alone. I don’t go to bed alone. I don’t travel alone. I don’t celebrate my birthdays alone. I don’t have to do everything for myself, whether I’m tired or not, because I live my life without anyone else in it. I have a life partner here with me. Where’s yours? Or did you have hopes that dad would always be the man in your life?”

And this is why whenever people ask me if we’re close, I laugh it off and shrug. I don’t know what we are. After the tragedy within our lives, we continued to grow further apart from the once closeness that we used to have. Even with her gravitating towards mom, we didn’t clash as much then as we do now. Our clashes are typically started by her. It’s the manner in which she seems to pick apart who I am that instantly rubs me the wrong way. It’s not even constructive criticism. It’s simply her being a bitch.

“Your dependency on men has always been at the forefront of your life. If it wasn’t Preston, it would have been someone else. And if it wasn’t that someone else, it would have been another person. I don’t ever remember any point in my life when you were single. So, I’m not impressed. Ya’ll can have this shit, honestly.” I dropped my napkin into the barely halfway eaten plate and immediately stood to my feet. I’d already paid for everyone’s meal as a treat, so I didn’t have to wait for some server to come over with the checkbook.

“Sarai, sit down.”

“I’d rather go and I am. Enjoy yourselves.”

“And this is why I call you a brat. Whenever someone says something that you don’t like or calls you out on your shit, you run.”

“Goodnight.”

“Sarai!” Not even my mother’s stern summoning could influence me to turn around as I walked out in the night. My car served as my solace and the sounds of a Musiq Soulchild Essentials playlist from Apple Music was my soundtrack for my drive home. A blessing of no traffic at any point allowed my arrival time to be just a couple of minutes under an hour.

Let me ask you something. You really think I can come back from this injury? It’s not even a matter of getting back on my feet again because I’m sure that’s possible, but will I be the same player I once was? I’ve been thinking about it and the more I do, the more I really don’t know.

I hadn’t even gotten out of the car when his message came through and as I sat in my seat reading it, I immediately scoffed because I know that is nothing more than his own sulking with a couple of droplets of Scott’s ridiculously biased and purposefully controversial take about some players never being who they once were within their respective sports after surgeries that don’t exactly fix what may be permanent damage.

You’re going to be even better than you were before. We all know that everyone gets a thrill out of a good comeback story but this is more than that for you. You have something to prove to yourself more than anyone or anything else. Your determined spirit will carry you through this and next year, we’re all going to celebrate what you worked so hard for more than we’ve ever celebrated you before. You got this and you know you do. It’s what we’re all a fan of when we speak of Odell Beckham Jr; your keen awareness of who you are and what you’re capable of.

And just like that, I was starting the car. I hadn’t even gone inside to get out of the pumps that are now starting to cause my toes to ache.

Have someone open the door for me. I should be there in about twenty.

It took five minutes over the twenty I estimated because I stopped at Dunkin Donuts for a hot chocolate. I wasn’t cold anymore because the heat in the car had already warmed me up, but I had a taste for it. I even grabbed Beckham a cup.

“Why are you the one answering the door?” I rang the doorbell about two minutes ago. No wonder it took so long for anyone to come and get it. As he leaned against the crutches, Khan and Blackjack were standing alongside him in a protective stance as Mowgli lingered around in the background.

“Nobody’s here but me.”

“I find that hard to believe. You’re never home alone.”

“You’ll be surprised how much I actually am home alone.” As he crutched himself backwards, the dogs moved alongside him in unison to allow me entry into the home. I think they’re starting to get used to me and I’m not sure if it’s a bad or a good thing. I’ve found myself bonding with Eris, who is technically the lady of the house.

“I got you a hot chocolate from Dunkin.”

“Thank you.”

“Uhm.” I noticed we weren’t going downstairs as I trailed behind him. Instead, he made his way into the living room and flopped down on the couch. He’d been playing video games before I arrived.

“Why are you so dressed up?”

“I’m coming from Saturday service.”

“Church?” His eyes widened and he couldn’t mask the few chuckles that followed. What’s so hard to believe about that?

“Why is that so shocking to you?”

“It’s not shocking, but I just can’t picture you going to church on a Saturday night. Maybe Sunday service, but Saturday night? No one under forty is going to a Saturday night service.” Alright. He got me there.

“I went with my mother, sister, and brother-in-law.”

“What’s your sister’s name?”

“Celeste.” I tossed my jacket on the arm of the couch right after placing the Styrofoam cup filled with hot chocolate on the glass coffee table.

“Lace? You sure you just went to church? Lace is more date night.” The lace is in places that most wouldn’t consider sexy. There is no cleavage on display; not even a bit of thigh. I would have been scolded endlessly had I done that.

“Why does lace have to be for a date night? Lace is universal. I used to wear white lace gloves to church when I was about five.”

“You’re certainly not five now.” Our eyes met and I took yet another sip of the warm sweetened drink. Suddenly, I wish it was a frozen hot chocolate.

“Someone did try to take me on a date though.” I’m not sure why I’m sharing this, but we’ve developed enough of a connection to the point where we share a lot of random and sometimes private information with one another.

“Who?” He hadn’t taken the game off of pause yet; didn’t reach for the hot chocolate either.

“Remember the friend who I mentioned to you? The one whose father died in the same war that mine did? Him. His name is Quinton.”

“I figured he was more than a friend when you mentioned him.”

“Why?” We were kids at the time. I didn’t emphasize much more than that.

“I don’t know. I just felt it.”

“Well, believe me when I tell you that we’re just friends. I’m not interested. There was a point in time when we crossed a boundary but nothing more came out of it.”

“Okay.” I was surprised that he didn’t question me about the boundary but then again, he’s just as intuitive as I am most times. He knows what boundary that was.

“He’s a councilman in Brooklyn now. He’s going to run for a seat in the Senate soon enough. Politics are his thing. He’s been trying to take me out for a while. For whatever reason, he thinks we’re a good fit for one another.”

“And you don’t?” As he stretched out his lengthy fingers, I could hear the sounds of a few of them cracking.

“No. I don’t think we relate much. We gel well as distant friends more than anything else. He’s looking for a wife. I don’t want to be that.”

“His wife or anyone’s wife?”

“I don’t know. Marriage isn’t something that I’ve made a part of my plans when I mapped them out. It’s not something that I’ve ruled out, but I’m not necessarily yearning for it either. It’s more of an it is what it is situation for me. You?”

“Initially, it was a big ass no. I wasn’t pressed for it. I watched my pop marry someone and I knew he didn’t want to get married. Ultimately, it didn’t work out for him. Now, I’m not against it. Whenever that day comes, it’ll come. I just want to do it one time when it does come. When I get down on one knee, I have to absolutely know that this is it and this person is going to be the one I’m growing towards wrinkles and diapers with. That shit has to work out.”

I’m sure everyone who stands at an alter and vows their life to someone feels exactly the same way he does. It’s supposed to be final; that moment to seal the deal between your soul and someone else’s. It’s tricky though. That honeymoon bliss eventually turns into tests of tolerance and plenty of trials and tribulations. In being around my parents, I was exposed to many of their friends’ marriages. Sure, they were in love, but I’m not sure if a few of them were genuinely happy.

“That’s fair.”

“So, this Quinton guy, he’s never getting a chance to prove himself? Not even one date?”

“Probably not.”

“What about me?” I didn’t expect it to go that route, but I know it’s been lingering on his mind since we began to bond with one another.

“Everything about us will never make sense and we both know this. Even what we’re doing right now wouldn’t go without question. I’m not supposed to be here or anywhere near you.” He sighed, not in defeat, but in disappointment at the words that I’d chosen as a response.

“How is that?”

“Because it’s a conflict of interest. Did you think that I was speaking in jest when I said that the night, we all hung out after your game? Having a personal relationship with you will easily have me viewed as someone who has a bias towards you and all that you do. I already catch hell for what I said about you, so can you imagine what would happen if TMZ happened to catch up the two us leaving some restaurant or nightclub together? Do you understand what would happen if you were to post or say anything about me on social media beyond whatever it is that I say about you in a professional setting? I would not only be ripped to shreds, but I’d be fired. Why do you think I kept stressing you and the guys about not post anything whenever I was visiting you at the hospital? Why do you think I was sneaking in, so bundled up?” The pictures and videos that are on his phone and everyone else’s are for personal memories. I don’t mind that. I figured they’d be something to put a smile on his face whenever he needs one, just as they do for me.

“Does it say in your contact that you will be fired for any of this?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t against the ethical code and conduct of the company? I would be forced to resign. Not only that, but do you realize how hard it is to be taken seriously as a female sports journalist? If you let the public tell it, I’m screwing every single athlete that I’m standing within five feet of. I’m not supposed to know about sports. You know how many ‘get in the kitchen’ comments I get? Hell, the NFL fans are the harshest. They tell me that I don’t know shit and I belong on my back for a living.”

“Because they’re fucking ignorant.”

“And yet it’s my reality. I’m not trying to nag you about this because I know what I signed up for and I can handle it, but how do I handle standing in front of the president of ESPN and him telling me to write my resignation letter before they’re forced to publicly embarrass me by firing me?”

“Within all that you said, you know you’re also saying that we can’t be friends and yet here you are, sitting here with me. I didn’t tell you to come here tonight. You came on your own.”

“Because I figured you were a bit upset. It’s the vibe I’d gotten in the text messages.”

“That’s the excuse you’re going with? You could have kept texting me. You came because you care and because you wanted to.”

“I do care about you. I just have to wonder how much do you care about me if you’re okay with me jeopardizing everything that I have and everything that I am for you and only you.” Instantly, he turned his head in my direction and narrowed his eyes.

“Me and only me? So, I’m in this alone?”

“In what?” I had to stand up. Not only had the tension in the room thickened, but my legs refused to remain settled. I kept bouncing them in an anxiousness that I couldn’t comprehend.

“Sarai. Seriously? And I’m not asking you to jeopardize your career.”

“Then what are you asking me to do?”

“I don’t…” His ran his hands threw his blonde curls and tightly closed his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t worry about it. I was only dropping by to check on you. I’m going to go.”

“Sarai.”

He frowned as I grabbed my jacket from the arm the chair and threw it over my shoulders. The quicker I leave, the better off we’ll both be in terms of riding ourselves of the steam. I’m tired anyway.

“It’s fine. I’ll give you a call to see how you’re doing soon.”

“You don’t have to go. That’s not what any of that was supposed to cause.”

“But I do. I need to go.”

Once my clutch bag was secured under my arm, I grabbed my keys off of the table.

“Sarai.”

“Be safe in here. Stay off of your foot.”

I was out of his door before we could exchange another set of words with one another and quite frankly, I’m not sure when I’ll ever walk through it again. I don’t have much, despite whatever people may see or believe. There are plenty of question marks next to a lot of the emotional aspects of life’s necessities but I do have my sanity and everything that I worked damn hard for. If that’s suddenly snatched away from me, then what’s left? A mother who doesn’t know much about me beyond what she assumes or wishes I were and an older sister who doesn’t take me seriously? Much like Beckham, I’m chasing a legacy and I have a lot more to do to make it eternally standing.

One date. We’ll do it somewhere around our old stomping grounds; it’ll feel nostalgic. Next week. I’ll get back to you with the day. Here’s your time.

If I have to choose right now, that’s the choice that makes the most sense.

[nothingeverlost]

Fic: As British as Apple Pie (Grahamavoy)

Thanksgiving prompt #4 (or 5?)

@ghostgirlalicia “How about something soft and domestic like making coffee or baking holiday pies.”

Graham’s THIRSTY though so ‘soft’ turned into ‘smut.’  Takes place about 9 months after the latest thing in this verse, about a year and a half after Joseph’s transplant.  It’s shockingly low angst.

________________________________

Graham wasn’t worth anything before his first cup of coffee in the morning.  That was his only excuse, and the only reason he was in the kitchen a full five minutes before it occurred to him that Joseph was using a knife.  

“Last I checked ‘no knives for Joseph’ was the number one house rule, love.”  Joseph’s cooking skills in general were questionable and he wasn’t usually responsible for more than making sandwiches.  As for his knife skills, well there was a reason they kept a large box of plasters in the kitchen.

“The apples have to be sliced before they’re baked.”  He used the knife to gesture at the recipe in front of him.  Graham sighed.  Baking was even worse than cooking.

“They should be peeled first.”  He took the knife from Joseph, putting it down a safe distance from his love’s reach.  With a pairing knife in one hand he picked up an apple and peeled it in one long coil.

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“Picked it up somewhere.”  His grandfather had taught him when he was a kid, the same grandfather that had hung up on him when he was seventeen and reaching out.  Instead of answering too truthfully and ruining the mood in the kitchen he took a bite of apple peel, making a show of drawing it slowly into his mouth.  It was almost too easy to make Joseph blush.

“Now we cut it in half and scoop out the core.”  He used a melon baller, a trick he’d learned in a restaurant kitchen once, to remove the core.  

“Show me again?” Joseph asked once the apple was sliced.

“You show me.”  He handed Joseph the knife, wrapping his hand over his lover’s and resting his chin on Joseph’s shoulder.  Together they moved slowly, their combined fingers getting sticky from the apple juice.  They got even sticker when Joseph mixed together the sugar, spices, and flour with the apple slices by hand.

“Don’t move a muscle.”  Graham pinched together the crust around the rim of the pie.  It wasn’t the fancy lattice his sister would probably do but it was good enough to get the pie in the oven.  The timer was set, giving them almost an hour before they needed to check on it.  He caught Joselg turning on the faucet.  “What did I say about not moving?”

“I was just going to wash my hands.”  He held them up, palms facing out.  It looked like he was surrendering.

“Just what I didn’t want you to do.”  He could see that Joseph was about to ask why; it amazed him sometimes how unaware of things his boyfriend was.  He still didn’t understand how attractive he was, how much his actions could be a seduction, the inherent eroticism of sticky sweet fingers.  Graham drew one into his mouth.  “I wanted to do it for you.”

“Oh.”  It was almost comical, how quickly Joseph went from being confused to understanding.  

“Pie’s gonna take an hour, love.  Do you have anything to do before it’s done?”  Nat was at work and he didn’t have to be anywhere for hours yet.  He kept hold of Joseph’s wrist and switched his attention to the thumb, drawing it into his mouth slowly, teasing the tip before using suction.

“I should clean up.”  There was flour and apple on the counter and dishes in the sink.

“Later.”  He used the hand holding onto Joseph to pull him from the kitchen towards their bedroom, pausing long enough to grab the bowl the apples had been in.  Joseph looked at it quizzically, but didn’t ask.  “Works out nicely that I haven’t made the bed yet.”

“I want to taste your fingers too.”  Joseph’s face flushed; nine months since they've resumed their sexual relationship and he was still bashful about expressing his desire.  His cheeks were almost the same color as the pink jersey he wore; no longer confined to the black garments of a priest Joseph had learned to wear colors.  Nat had been more than willing to influence his wardrobe. Graham tossed the empty bowl on the bed.

“You only ever have to ask.”  He held out his hand, and wished he’d taken a moment to back up against the wall because when Joseph licked his palm he felt weak in the knees.  It was the sight of Joseph’s pleasure as much as the warm mouth that had him swearing.  “Fuck.”

“You taste good, but you always do.”  The flat of Joseph’s tong rested against his pulse.  

“Want to taste you everywhere.  Bed,” he pleaded, pulling his shirt over his head and pushing down his flannel pajama bottoms.  He hadn’t bothered to put on any pants..  Unlike Joseph who dressed first thing in the morning in trousers and shirts even if he wasn’t leaving the flat, Graham pulled on just enough clothing that he wasn’t wandering naked.  Unless, of course, it was to his advantage to wander naked; sometimes Joseph needed very blatant signs.  “Jersey off first.”  

“We’ll get the sheets sticky,”  Joseph paused for just a moment, looking at his hands.

“Washing sticky sheets is my favorite chore.  It means we had a lot of fun first.”  Graham laughed and gently pushed his lover onto the bed.  He knelt next to him, resting one hand on the now naked belly just above the snap of his trousers.  He reached for the bowl, tilting it sideways, allowing the scant spoonfuls of apple syrup and spices to splash onto Joseph’s stomach.  From the corner of his eye he could see his love flinch slightly.  “Cold?”

Joseph shook his head.  “I just realized what you were planning.”

“You mean this?”  He lowered his head, lapping at a pool of apple juices, catching a drop as it rolled down on side.  Joseph’s belly was soft and rounded, what some men might bemoan as a middle age spread but Graham celebrated as a sign of health.  No longer could he count his lover’s ribs; every time Joseph had to loosen his belt it felt like a victory.

“Or this?”  His licks moved higher up, chasing the taste of cinnamon and sweetness to Joseph’s clavicle.  He waited until he was sucking on Joseph’s earlobe before undoing his love’s trouser button.  “Still worried about things getting sticky?”

“Please, Graham.”  Joseph’s hips jutted up when Graham stroked him through his pants.  Graham chuckled and kissed his love.

“Tell me, sweetheart.”  There was nothing Graham had ever found that was as erotic as his love finding the words to ask for what he wanted.

“I want to feel you.”  he wiggled his hips, trying to shift his pants down and free himself from the trousers.

“I’m right here.”  There wasn’t much juice left in the bowl but Graham wiped the inside with two fingers and painted Joseph’s lower lip, not allowing it to remain long before licking it away.

“Inside me.  Please, I want to feel you inside.”  Hands so much stronger and more steady than they’d been a year ago pulled at his hips, close enough that his tip rubbed against Joseph’s trousers.

“Let’s get these off you.”  He crawled to the end of the bed to tug off the last bits of clothing and rolled over to the side of the bed to reach for his bedside drawer.  The box of condoms he kept there wasn’t small, and it was well used.  The lube was getting low; they’d need to pick up some more soon.  Perhaps it was time to introduce his love to a sex shop.  When he looked back at Joseph he’d rolled to his side, a blatant invitation he was glad to accept.

“You smell like apples.”  He buried his nose in the crook between neck and shoulder when he tucked himself behind Joseph, teasing his love with lube to make sure he was ready.

“I’d rather smell like you.  I do, sometimes, after making love to you.  I can smell you on my skin.”  Joseph rolled his head as far as he could to see the man behind him.  Graham growled low in his throat.  Fuck, but the man was erotically honest.  He didn’t need to see the look in Joseph’s eyes to know that he spoke with sincerity.  He couldn’t wait longer and pressed into his lover.  If joseph wanted to smell like him he’d do his damndest to make it happen.

“Sticky,” was the first thing he said after, teasing about the state of their sheets.  They would definitely need to do laundry.

“Might need another shower,”  Joseph murmured, tugging Graham’s hand so his arm wrapped around his waist.

“I thought you wanted to smell like me,” he mock pouted.

“Company for dinner.”  Joseph sounded sleepy; Graham glanced at the clock and figured they had fifteen minutes or so before needing to check on the pie.  They could take a short nap.

“Company?”  He didn’t remember anything about people coming over.

“Nat’s bringing her bloke for dinner.  That’s why I attempted a pie.”  Joseph twined their fingers together.  “Take a deep breath, sweetheart.  It’s just dinner.”

“It’s a meet the family dinner.  She’s bringing him home and we’re having dinner and I was tricked into helping.”  He tried to sit up, but Joseph leaned back into him, pinning him into place.  It wasn’t fair, Nat wasn’t even home and his sister and boyfriend were ganging up on him.  Family dinner meant she was serious about the guy.  “I’m not ready for this, Joe.”

“He makes her happy, and you want her to be happy, don’t you?”  Joseph rolled over so they were facing each other.  “I can vouch firsthand how much  it can change your life for the better to be loved by a member of the Hughes family.”

“You aren’t fighting fair,” Graham pouted.  Damn it, Joseph would choose to get sentimental on him.  “Loving you changed my life too.”

“For the better?”  There was just a hint of uncertainty in Joseph’s voice.

“How can you possibly doubt that?”  He did his best to kiss any doubts away.

“Nat deserves the same chance, love.”  Their foreheads were pressed together.  Graham could smell their scents mingled together.  He sighed.

“Yeah, she does.”  That didn’t mean he was going to make things easy for this Adam bloke.  Starting with his plan to try and lure Joseph into a second round.  Maybe if he was lucky they’d ‘accidentally’ burn the pie.

[btsqualityy]

Jungles / 7

Pairing: Jungkook & OC

Summary & Warnings: Aspect is one of the hottest, up-and-coming bands in the world, headed up by it’s maknae and lead singer Jeon Jungkook. Aspect is on the rise but when one of it’s members abruptly quits, they are left without a bassist. When they find Leilani Kang, they’re blown away by her talent and she joins the band. However, no one is prepared for the places that a mixture of money, sex, drugs, and super stardom can take people. / Will contain sexual content, drug usage, and adult content. Reader’s discretion is advised.

Disclaimer: Please keep in mind that the way in which the members of BTS are depicted in this story, especially Jungkook, has no correlation to them in real life. It is literally just a story.

Author’s Note for this chapter: I do list some song titles that are actual songs. I’m using them in name only. Also, this is the longest chapter that I’ve posted so far but please read through to the end if you can. You won’t regret it!

POV for this chapter: Leilani. Make sure to send me your thoughts after reading. Also, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

I leaned back in my chair, bringing my hand up to my mouth to chew on my nails as my gaze remained on the president of the label. After that night that I offered to help Jungkook write some stuff for the album, we ended up writing five songs together. In the four weeks since then, he and I have actually been getting alone somewhat...well. He’s can actually be pretty decent when he wants to be; don’t get me wrong though, he’s still a dickhead.

Once Jungkook and I finished the songs, we managed to show them to the group, record them, and finish compiling the album. Since we as a group were satisfied with the tracks, it was time for Bang Si-hyuk to hear them.

To say that I was nervous would be a complete understatement. I mean, I’m the new person in the band and what if Bang thought that I messed up the flow of the group? Or that I wasn’t good enough to add anything to them, in a musical sense? 

Jimin, who was sitting to the left of me, must’ve noticed the look on my face because he grabbed my left hand, the one that wasn’t in my mouth, and intertwined our fingers. I glanced over at him and gave him a small tight lipped smile. Suddenly, the music stopped playing and I looked back at Bang, who had just pressed stop on the stereo in the room. He leaned back in his chair, bringing his hand up to stroke thoughtfully at his chin. 

“So, what do you think?” Hobi wondered hesitantly and Bang looked at him before a smile took over his features.

“I think you guys have another number 1 album on your hands,” he announced and we all let out audible breaths of air as we started to celebrate. “Alright, alright, calm down you all,” he hummed and we all quieted down. “So, you guys know that I make it a point to never intrude on inner group politics, especially when it comes to the removal or addition of new members.”

Oh god, here it comes. He’s probably gonna tell them what a mistake it was to add me to the group. I don’t know made me think I could do this in the first place.

“But you guys made the best decision ever when you decided to add Leilani here to the group,” he finished, and my eyes widened. 

“Really?” I questioned. “You think so?” 

“Absolutely,” he nodded, smiling widely now. “Those riffs of yours, mixed with JK’s vocals,” he sighed dreamily. “Plus, I know that Yoongi composed most of the songs but a little birdie told me that you and JK also composed some songs.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook confirmed. “Frustrated, Focus, Could’ve been, Pillowtalk and Truth.”

“Hm, interesting,” he simpered. “Well, we can talk definite release dates another time but I do want us to get this out as soon as we possibly can. Namjoon, me and you will need to meet along with the board to discuss single selection.”

“Uh actually,” Jungkook spoke up and Bang looked over at him. “We were kind of discussing this already and we think the single should be Pillowtalk.”

“Pillowtalk?” Bang repeated. He thought for a minute before looking over at Namjoon. “Namjoon, what do you think?”

“I agree,” Namjoon answered. “It’s definitely different from the last album but not too different that it’ll alienate long time fans. Plus, we all love it.”

“Hm, I do too,” he admitted, making me grin. “Alright, Pillowtalk will be the single as long as the board agrees after listening to the album.” He then stood up and we all did the same, bowing to him and exchanging goodbyes before he walked out of the room. 

“Fuck, we did it!” Jungkook yelled and we all erupted into cheers. I gave a tight hug to Jimin and also a hug to Jin, Hobi, and Namjoon. When I got to Jungkook, he smirked cheekily at me.

“I guess we don’t make such a bad team after all, huh Leilani?” He commented, holding his arms out for a hug. To everyone’s surprise, including Jungkook’s I think, I wrapped my arms around his neck as I molded my body to his. Hesitantly, I felt his arms wrap around my waist and squeeze me lightly. 

“I guess not,” I agreed before pulling away from him.

“Hey, why don’t we go out tonight and celebrate?” Hobi suggested, making us all look over at him. “I feel like dancing.”

“I’m all for that,” Jimin agreed as he did a little dance where he was standing. 

“Oh, we should call Yoongi hyung too,” Namjoon added. The guys all started to make the plans as Jungkook looked over at me with that smirk on his face.

“You down?” He wondered, licking his lips afterwards. I bit my lip at the sight before nodding my head.

“Hell yeah.”

...........................

I have no idea how the fuck it happened, especially since we didn’t chose a club to go to until 30 minutes before we got there. However, when we stepped foot inside of the Avalon, people immediately began to flock to us. We were whisked away to the VIP section, where we had a large booth to ourselves and copious amounts of booze. 

“Wow,” I breathed as I watched Jin pour me a drink. 

“Crazy right?” He asked and I nodded slowly. He finished pouring my drink and then handed it to me, smiling lightly. “You’ll get used to it eventually,” he promised.

“Thanks,” I smiled before taking slow sips from the glass. Jimin and Hobi came back to our section, both of them starting to sweat lightly from dancing. 

“Did the shots we ordered get here yet?” Hobi asked. 

“You two felt the need to order shots? On top of all this alcohol that we have here?” Yoongi questioned. 

“Hyung, there’s no such thing as too much alcohol,” Jimin giggled as he flung himself down inside of the booth next to Yoongi, throwing his arm around his shoulder. 

“Speak for yourself,” Yoongi grumbled as he shrugged Jimin’s arm off of him. “I’ll still never understand how someone so small can drink so much and not be super fucked up.”

“It’s called skills hyung,” Jimin gushed. 

“Oh, here they are!” Hobi shrieked, making me, Jin, and Namjoon cringe. A waitress carried a tray full of different colored shots over and set them on our table and Jungkook handed her a $50 bill as a tip. 

“Baller, shot caller huh?” I teased, and Jungkook smirked. 

“Eh, I like to help out,” he shrugged. We all grabbed a shot and after a sniff of it, I realized it was tequila. We all stood up and held our glasses together.

“A toast to us, for making a bad ass team,” Jungkook boasted. We all cheered in agreement and clinked our glasses together. I brought mines to my lips, tilting my head back and swallowing it as quickly as I could. 

“Come on Lani, let’s go dance!” Jimin begged, grabbing my wrist and pulling on my arm lightly.

“Alright, alright,” I chuckled. “Gimme a minute.” He nodded and watched as I grabbed another shot from the tray, this time whiskey, and slammed that one back as well. As soon as I set the empty glass back down, Jimin whisked me away and out towards the dance floor with Hobi following close behind us.

Once we got to the middle of the dance floor, Borderline by Ariana Grande was playing and the feel good beat caused me to instantly start moving my hips. Jimin and Hobi sandwiched me, with Jimin in front of me and Hobi behind me. Honestly, with the way that Hobi and Jimin can move those hips of theirs, it’s almost a shame that him and Jimin didn’t become dancers. 

We continued to dance through two more songs all together before Earned It by The Weeknd came on. Hobi and Jimin immediately got grabbed by two random girls and even though Jimin didn’t want to leave me on my own, I told him it was ok.

“You sure Lani?” He yelled. 

“Go ahead, have fun,” I nodded, shooing him away. He gave me one last smile before letting the girl who was hanging onto his arm lead him away. I was about to make my way back to our private section when I felt a pair of hands settle on my waist.

“What the?” I was about to turn around when I felt his grip tighten on my hips.

“It’s me,” Jungkook whispered in my ear, his breath fanning across my neck. 

“What are you doing?” I asked haltingly, slightly relaxing into his chest. 

“You danced with Hobi and Jimin and I have to admit, I’m a little jealous,” he teased, making me roll my eyes.

“Seriously Jungkook,” I chuckled.

“I just want a dance,” he said as I felt him shrug his shoulders. “Think you can do that?” He murmured and I could almost feel his lips against the shell of my ear, that’s how close he was. I nodded and he lopped his arms across my stomach, guiding me as he started to rock back and forth. 

I leaned my head back, letting it rest in the crook between his neck and shoulder. I think it might’ve been the alcohol but feeling Jungkook’s strong chest against my back sent a shiver through my body. Feeling a little more comfortable, I began to swivel my hips slowly, brushing against the front of his black jeans each time I did so.

“Mm,” he groaned, his arms moving from my stomach as he used one hand to grasp my hip again, while the other settled on my thigh. Hearing his groan in my ear only spurred me on more and I made sure each time I brushed up against it, I’d press my ass against him a little harder.

“Lani,” he whispered and I hummed in response. His hand that was on my thigh started to creep upwards and I had no issues with it, until he cupped me underneath the skirt that I had on. Feeling his hand there, it’s like the cloud broke and I grabbed his arms, pushing them away from me as I moved away from his body at the same time. I turned around and looked at him, the both of us breathing heavily as I tried to process what happened. 

I quickly turned around and began to push my way through the crowd of people, wanting to get as far away from Jungkook as possible. Once I made it off of the dance floor, I paced down the hallway to the ladies room and walked inside. I walked over to the sink and grabbed a paper towel, turning on the cold water and dampening it. I then took the wet paper towel and wiped over each of my wrists a few times before setting it on my neck, hoping that it would cool me down a little.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Just because Jungkook and I are somewhat getting along now does not mean that I should fuck him. At least, that’s what the rational part of me says. Every other part though, including my vagina, is currently fucking screaming at me for being an idiot and pushing him away. 

A loud slam of the bathroom door makes me open my eyes and when I look into the mirror in front of me, the eyes that I meet are Jungkook’s. I quickly drop the paper towel in the sink and turn around to look at him.

“Jungkook, what are you doing?” I questioned, my breath becoming labored as I watched him lock the door. 

“You ran away from me Lelani and I know it’s because you’re trying to be smart,” he began as he stalked over to me. Once he got about an arm’s length away from me, I began to back away until my butt hit the sink behind me. Jungkook continued to come closer until his chest was touching mines and his hands were on the edge of the sink behind me, effectively trapping me in front of him.

“You want to, don’t you?” He asked and I tilted my head back, trying to create some space between us.

“Want to what? I don’t know what you’re talking about Jungkook,” I tried to make up an excuse but he clearly saw right through it because I heard him suck his teeth.

“You do too,” he countered back. ”You want to fuck me, don’t you?” He clarified and I inhaled sharply. His fingers griped my chin and pulled downwards, making me bring my head down and look at him again. “You do, right?”

I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of saying yes but I also knew that if I said no, he’d see right through that. That left me with one option: to shrug childishly which is what I did. He chuckled deeply and brought his hands up, cupping my face.

“Well, I want to fuck you,” he confessed and my eyes widened. “I’d love to fuck you, if you let me.” 

Oh, fuck it.

I smashed my lips against his, throwing my arms around his neck as I kissed him passionately. Despite my aggressiveness, he never missed a beat as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer. I don’t know what I expected but he’s a damn good kisser. Like, really good.

I gasped in surprise as he lifted me up and set me on the edge of the sink, all without removing his lips from mine. I parted my legs and he stood in between them, his hands settling on my breasts through the front of my top. He eventually moved from my lips and trailed kisses down the side of my jaw to my neck, where he began to suck harshly.

“Fuck,” I gasped, tilting my head to give him better access. He trailed one hand down and settled it underneath my skirt before pulling away from my neck to look at me.

“Is this ok? You ran from me the last time I did this,” he breathed out, panting slightly. I nodded and set my hands in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Please,” I said and that’s all it took before he was suckling on my neck again. His hand that was under my skirt moved up and I felt his finger lightly rubbing up and down the outside of my panties. 

“Jungkook, please,” I pleaded, wanting him to touch my bare skin and not through a barrier. He chuckled deeply as he pressed his fingers against my clit. 

“Greedy,” he tutted but nonetheless, he pulled my panties to the side and slipped his pointer finger inside of me. I shuddered in pleasure, pawing at his back.

“Fuck yes,” I purred as he began to pump his finger in and out. 

“I knew it was only a matter of time,” he murmured, licking a stripe up the length of my neck. “They always come running to get fucked eventually.” I immediately opened my eyes and set my hands on his shoulders, pushing him back with all of the strength that I could muster. He stumbled back, barely stopping himself from falling to the ground.

“What the fuck Leilani?” He chided as I hopped down off of the sink and readjusted my clothing.

“Is that what you think I am? Just another piece of ass?” I accused, glaring at him. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he tried to say but I held my hand up, stopping him. 

“You did and it’s ok. I’m happy you said it before I actually let you fuck me,” I snapped before pushing past him and walking over to the door, unlocking it before storming out of the bathroom.

[okase]

DnD Character Questions: Zephrine

B/c my friend’s gone and done these and they looked fun. Original questions is here

1) What is their full name, and does it have any special relevance? Alternatively, what nicknames do they have?

Zephrine Auclair is her full name, as far as she’s concerned. Her actual full name is unknown to her though she’s aware at least that Auclair isn’t the surname she was born with. Adopted and all that.

As for nicknames, Zeph is a shorthand she’s okay with, and her stage persona when she was a performer was very creatively named Zephyra. 2) What hobby would they like to be good at?

Cooking, or sewing. Probably sewing a little more than cooking, since she’s at least somewhat passable at cooking. Also, gardening. She loves plants and flowers but doesn’t quite have the green thumb that her mother does. 3) If they played dnd what race and class would they pick?

A gnome Beastmaster ranger or Circle of the Shepherd druid. She’d want to be something completely different from what she is or can turn into in real life. Also, she’s always wanted healing abilities and loves animals(most of them) so she would want either one really close animal companion or as many animal friends as she could possibly make. She would also inevitably get really distraught when something happened to said animal friends. 4) If they could go back in time and change one thing, what would they change?

She would have left the circus to travel with Therila sooner. Even though it’s not really her fault, Zeph still feels an incredible amount of guilt for getting her girlfriend into the situation she’s in. She feels if she’d followed her heart and been less indecisive, she could have saved Therila a lot of hardship.

That said, Zeph has grown very attached to her new friends she’s met, so that would make changing things hard. There’s several things she wants to help them with and the idea of not being able to help wouldn’t sit well with her. Zeph would feel like she was abandoning her new friends for Therila.

She’d still change things, if she could, because she would want to spare Therila what she’s been through, but it would be with a heavy heart. If she could find a way to have it both ways, she’d do it in an instant. 5) What is their favourite weapon to wield?

Her magique. She has a dagger and a quarterstaff, but neither of those has really felt “right” for her, nor have they been particularly useful. Her magic, though, is not only incredibly useful and versatile, but more importantly it’s a part of her. Not only, that, it’s a part of her that she loves. Zeph gets frustrated at her inability to tap into it, or control it, but she’s never felt negatively towards her magic itself. Because when she gets it right, she feels powerful, incredible, even celestial. It feels right, and it feels good.

6) If you could behove them one magical item, what would you give them?

Robes of Self Confidence! Ring of Decisiveness. Underwear of Stop Doubting Yourself and Be More Assertive.

Or, idk. Boosting her charisma further would be nice, I guess??? I don’t know enough about dnd magical items. Also some of the stuff she has is already pretty sweet so I can’t complain. (She has a cloak that can let her turn into a raven for an hour! It’s baller.) 7) If they didn’t have to adventure, would they stop?

No. She’s gotten a taste for blood now. Nothing can stop her.

Jk, but still no because she’s kind of found her calling in it. She gets to help people, and wants to continue doing so until she finds a better way to help people that maybe involves less murder and nearly dying all the time. 8) What do they look for in a platonic or romantic partner?

Passion, and compassion. A strong moral compass and the courage to not only adhere to it, but stand up for it as well. A sense of humor and some self-confidence doesn’t hurt, either.

Also, it’s not a thing she consciously looks for, but one thing that all of her previous partners have in common is that they are/were all very assertive people. Make of that what you will lmao 9) Do they trust easily? Yes and no. When she was younger, I would say yes without a doubt, but she’s put her trust in the wrong people more than a few times throughout the years and I think that’s made her wiser than she lets on.

I think the best way to describe it is that, if she hasn’t been given reason not to, she’s willing to give people a chance and will put herself out there even knowing it could end badly. She’s been hurt enough times to believe it’s a risk, but she believes in people as a whole enough to also believe it’s a risk worth taking. She’ll believe in you until you give her reason not to.

10) What is their favourite colour?

Blues and greens tend to be her favorite, so I’ll go halfway and say blue-green. Robin’s egg blue.

She also likes bright yellow. Just, not on her. 11) Diplomatic or aggressive?

I’m gonna say diplomatic, but I think it would be more accurate to say she was manipulative than truly compromising like diplomacy tends to imply. She’s aggressive about her morals, but I don’t think I’d call her aggressive overall, and she’s definitely not the punchy sort. She definitely prefers non-violent solutions to problems and disagreements. Unless you’re an utter monster but I’m not sure that counts. 12) They get arrested, and thrown in jail, how do they escape?

Probably most likely to talk herself out of jail. If she’d been put in there unjustly, she’d try and prove it. If she was there justly, she’d try and suggest alternate ways she could serve whatever sentence she’s been given, or if her sentence was pretty minimal and none of her friends were in danger, she’d just serve it.

If talking didn’t work, she’d try and get a guard close enough to incapacitate them, which she would do via hold person or fire + hot metal prison bars. Get the keys, go from there. Or if there was a window, she’d see if there was a way to climb out that way. 13) Would they leave their party for any reason?

Currently and for the short-term future, she would only leave if they would no longer have her. She’s rather attached on a personal level, and beyond that, they’ve done a lot for her and she feels it’s only right to do a lot for them in return.

The only way other than that would be for them to do something really morally reprehensible, but I can’t really see them doing something bad enough for her to just up and leave. 14) If they could own any creature as a pet, what would they have? 

A GRIFFIN. Or she would, if they didn’t eat horses at best and people at worst.

More realistically, she’d probably like to have some sort of fat lil’ songbird, provided she didn’t have to keep it in a cage. If not a bird, a rabbit or a guinea pig would also do.

15) How have you influenced your characters personality?

Unfortunately my stupidity and inability to tell a coherent story for the life of me has been inflicted upon Zephrine. She can be kinda ditzy lol

Also my temper, a bit.  But also my desire to do good and my love of the arts and also pretty things!

Oh, but also my anxiety. I’m SORRY Zephrine lmao 16) Do they have any tattoos? If so what? If not, do you think they would get one in the future?

Nope, and no.  She appreciates them on other people,  but they're not really for her.

The Tiamat mark on her arm doesn’t count. 17) Where would they like to be in ten years time?

Alive, surrounded by friends and making the world a better place. She’s found love and managed to keep it. Therila is safe and happy, her friends are safe and happy. Her mother isn’t alone when Zeph isn’t there, and is content. Zeph travels a lot, be it with her partner, her friends, or both, righting the wrongs of the world, changing things for the better and helping others along the way. They travel, but they always have a home they can return to when they need to catch their breath. Ideally in the more literal, physical sense- in which case there needs to be flowers, and lots of them- but the metaphorical sense works, too. She’s found her calling, her purpose in life and she’s able to guide others to theirs, as well. The world has less suffering in it than it did before and it feels like she’s able to make a difference.

Zephrine knows that’s probably not realistic, and she knows that life never really goes the way you want or plan, but she’s certainly going to try and make things reality where she can. She’s gonna at least make an effort.

18) What do they look like? Either description or picture.

She looks like if a dragon and a disney princess had a baby together.

And if I’m feeling more descriptive, I’d say she’s got shiny brass scales and the rounded brass dragon crest to match, big orangey-brown eyes with some yellow towards the pupils. She’s got a ‘3’ mouth, kinda like a python. It’s very cute.

Body-wise, she’s built like a ballerina, with legs for days and a lean musculature. She’s got slightly broad shoulders, kinda narrow hips, and a tail that she has to lift slightly at the end so it doesn’t drag on the floor. The end of it kinda looks like a giant leaf. She also has small, useless dragon wings that are either cute or creepy depending on who you ask.

Clothes-wise and just in general, she’s very meticulous about hygiene and just as meticulous about her appearance. She doesn’t have the excessive ruffles and lace and gemstones of someone upper class, but everything she wears tends to be colorful and chosen very carefully. She tends to be a fan of bishop/peasant sleeves and either A-line dresses or long, flowy tunics. She’s also big on putting in little details, like a fancy belt buckle or some really nice boots. She’s very fashion-conscientious but not completely impractical.

19) What genre of music would they be into?

Zeph appreciates all types of music and that would be no different if she had access to our stuff. From rap to metal to bluegrass, she’ll pick bits of anything, but her favorites would likely be dance mixes of upbeat pop songs, or something with synthpop. Or funk/r&b??? Something she can either dance to or something indulgently sad she can listen to while languidly lounging and being dramatic and morose. Depends on her mood. 20) What would be the worst thing someone could say to them?

“I hear dragons hoard things like gems and weapons and armor. I think your hoard might be failed relationships and promises you can’t keep!”

Basically anything along the lines of: You really should stop trying; You don’t know what you’re doing; You’re just a hindrance; You’re not actually helping people; Why are you trying to help others when you can’t even sort out your own problems, etc.

Imply or outright state that she just causes trouble for other people, especially if it’s something she can’t refute. Poke her right in the insecurity.