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dragonofdarknesschaos · 4 years ago

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I've been thinking (because I'm quarantined and bored, sorry )..how it could be possible for Jack to form a good friendship? ...I mean even if a person shows affection, good intentions or a real interest on his stuff... the chance of Jack's betrayal is still there. I don't know I'm wondering ..if he can have a healthy friendship.

*cackles* Jack Spicer, as he is in XS, is not capable of forming a stable and healthy relationship, despite the fact that he desperately wants and needs one. And if that ain’t the tragedy of the whole series.

The Jack of Showdown

Just when Jack finally starts to actually warm up and be open and honest about his feelings with others, he either gets grossly mistreated (“The Deep Freeze,” “The Apprentice”) or is presented with the choice of being loved and accepted, despite who he is and what he’s done, or giving in to his baser instincts and double crossing his new would-be friends to get praised by someone who could not care less about him (“The Apprentice”). It’s difficult to tell if Jack feels he doesn’t deserve to be happy for some deep and personal reason, or if he’s so focused on being seen as EVIL™ and not good; that he believes he must take any and all opportunities to prove his evil worth. Whatever the reason, the Jack in XS would need someone that will stick by his side no matter what decisions he makes, or what actions he takes to push that person away. Someone who unconditionally supports him and wants to be by his side. The problem is, that’s more of a pet and has the potential to become quite toxic.

The Jack of Chronicles

As for the Jack of XC, he has some boundaries, and he’s not quite as ruthless. He knows he’s kind of a loser, but he still really wants a girlfriend to help boost his sense of masculine ego. But more importantly, he just wants a friend, to the point that he was willing to pay people to hang out with him (just like in XS “Something Jermaine,” “Judging Omi” and XC’s “Magic Stallion and the Wild Wild West,” “Buddy Blue Ray and the Golden Bunnies,” and “Heal Me”).

Jack enjoys Wuya’s company, but she gets frustrated with his lack of action in favor of building capital or just having fun (the Golden Toilet arc, “Super Cow Patty,” “Tokyo Madness,” and “Omi Saves the Holidays” among many others). Jack seems to have moved out of his parent’s basement, and is now in his own warehouse/factory, so he’s really trying to focus on starting up his Evil Business idea and often refers to himself as an “evil entrepreneur” throughout the series. While Wuya appreciates the “go get ‘em” spirit, she still feels that Jack isn’t doing enough to help her, which is the whole reason they teamed up in the first place. Because of her nagging attitude and matriarchal approach to the relationship, Jack often feels smothered and refuses to act. However, he still has boundaries and refuses to do certain things if they are not in his interests as well (“Back in the Flesh Again”).

Jack and Shadow

With Wuya as Jack’s pseudo-mother, he needs a datemate to call his own. Gone is his curiosity in Kimiko (though he does seem to think she’s still cool), but if it’s any other girl, he will do his best to impress her.

Case in point Willow--who he tried to ask on a date if he won the Showdown Trio in “The Fall of Xiaolin.” She strongly states that she isn’t interested in him in the least, and because the two never see each other again, I would assume Jack dropped the pursuit.

Shadow on the other hand, he likely sees a lot of himself in her. They’re both evil, admire Chase, they seem about the same age, and... that’s about where the similarities end. Shadow’s actions say that she is repulsed by Jack, but she never pushes him away, and even praises his “doo-hickies” (“The Laws of Nature,” “Rocco”). With the use of camera drones, Jack witnessed a lot of the private behavior and abuse between Chase and Shadow, and even some of the abuse in person ( “Tigress Woo,” “Rocco”). Even the cold open of “Who Shrunk Master Fung?” features Jack being very careful not to harm a strange bird, who is later revealed to be Shadow. Case in point, the Jack of XC has a streak of kindness in him, and it is unclear if Shadow sees that and resents Jack for having it, or if she admires that aspect of him. Regardless, after the events of “The Laws of Nature,” where Jack effectively double crosses Chase (and her by extension), Shadow likely made the choice to never trust Jack completely. She double crosses him at the end of their wonderful team up in “Back in the Flesh Again.” And Jack doesn’t even get upset or angry about the loss and betrayal. He’s even more smitten and tries to brag to Omi and Ping Pong before realizing they aren’t into it and flies off.

Overall Jack and Shadow have feasible grounds for a relationship--even a romantic one--if they could both create some honesty and trust between each other, but neither is willing to do that, despite Jack’s over sharing (literally every time he opens his mouth around Chase). For further reading on Jack’s relationship with Shadow and Chase, check out this post.

Jack doesn’t interact with Tigress, Kimiko’s older sister, much, but he does bother to keep tabs on her and warns Kimiko about her sister’s more nefarious activities (“Tigress Woo”). It’s unclear if he did this in an effort to get closer to the Monks as a friend, or if he was stalking Tigress because he was attracted to her. In either case, Tigress is never seen again or mentioned by Jack.

Jack’s Other Interests

There are a handful of episodes in XC that revolve around Jack seeing or meeting another evil-doer and fixating on them, often trying to model himself after them in some fashion. He does this with PandaBubba to a lesser extent in “Magic Stallion and the Wild Wild West,” then goes full blown fan for Super Cow Patty (in his self-titled episode) and later Le Mime in the same episode, making fan videos and full costumes with personas for both his fixations. In both instances with the truly evil characters (PB and Le Mime), Jack was looking for a sense of acceptance by an Evil Businessman and entrepreneurial peer, and a sense of belonging to a larger community with Le Mime and his henchmen. That desire for belonging to a larger community is reiterated earlier in the series with “Heal Me” and Reverse!Jack’s cult.

However, when presented with an actual fan of his, Tiny Sim, Jack is actually somewhat reluctant to have the fan tag along with him. And maybe that was for the best, as Jack soon discovers that the fan he inspired to become Evil is actually a lot better at it than he, himself, is (“Drawn to be Evil”). In retaliation, Jack confines the fan to being just a creative idea intern. Jack is essentially taking credit for all of Tiny Sim’s ideas, and not paying the kid a thing. Sim, either because he’s doing what his idol taught, or because he feels cheated, makes it a priority to take a Wu or two when he can out of Jack’s stash (“Mark of the Dragon Spirit”). Sadly, the series ended before the relationship between these two could be further developed. It wouldn’t have been healthy, but at least it would have been something.

Another important note, Jack does make the clear distinction in both series that the gallery of sellswords he pays to be around him are only in it as long as there’s money for them to be had. They are not his friends, they will never be his true friends, they’re just people he pays until the money runs out (“Something Jermaine,” “Judging Omi”). So Katnappe, Tubbimura, Cyclops (after their initial debut), and to a lesser extent Vlad will never truly be Jack’s friends. Vlad does make a return in XS’s “The Demon Seed” to try and cheer Jack up (not that he’s very good at it), but he doesn’t seem to want anything from Jack other than to do evil things and pal around. This is a bit of a departure from their first encounter where Jack was presumably paying Vlad to be his hired muscle and inside man (“The Deep Freeze”).

Jack’s Robots

Jack’s relationship with his various Jackbots and other robots is an interesting one. It’s possible that he created them out of a sick sense of wanting to have friends that he could control, but it comes back more to how the bots are presented in both series.

The Jackbots of XS seem to have a hive mind of sorts, as they will blindly (and sometimes literally) follow their master’s commands. Those that fall are replaced as if nothing happened to the fallen Jackbot; their numbers are legion. The bots are later programmed with emotions and feel sadness, but not fear. This is interesting, because Jack is shown having temper tantrums from time to time, but he doesn’t break things, only tosses them around (“The Journey of A Thousand Miles”).

Jack’s relationship with the more “custom” humanoid robots is split into a binary. On the one side are the bots that went rogue and have tried to annihilate him or simply want nothing to do with him: Chameleon Bot, Robo!Jack, and the patent-pending Shen Gong Wu Detect-o-bot. On the other side are the bots he grew very attached to: Yesbot, his Cheerbot squad, and the Shen Gong Wu Detect-o-bot before it went rogue. Both Yes~ and Detect-o~ allow Jack to be more of a child, as he is depicted being held like a scared child with both of them (if I remember correctly. “Oil in the Family,” “The Demon Seed”). He treats them like the parent he doesn’t have around. The Cheerbots are his hott Barbie dolls that he gets to dress up and maintain. He doesn’t go much farther than projecting personalities and life problems onto them. Eventually they are absorbed into the Jackbot hive.

Remember how Jackbots don’t show or know fear in XS? XC opens with Jack having a tantrum, and many of his various designs of bot run away from him. Jack is left cornering Chefbot, who has darts sticking out of his chef’s hat. Rather peculiar for robots to be afraid of their master, especially since they are meant to be hoards of drones. As Chefbot is developed as a character, Jack comes to respect his creation more, but Chefbot says he has no interest in hanging around someone like Jack; he wants to go places and be a real chef! He can’t do that if he’s making paltry snacks for Jack. Chefbot’s last appearance in the series is on a cooking show (either on TV or YouLook) making pizza, while Jack follows along from his RV. Jack seems quite relaxed and at ease, even using the Banyan Twister Shen Gong Wu to stretch his body and the pizza dough. It is never stated, but perhaps Jack is proud of his creation accomplishing it’s dream.

Thank You for Being a Friend

In conclusion, the Jack of XS is incapable of having a healthy friendship with anyone, either because he thinks he doesn’t deserve it or because he really is just a terrible person and pushes everyone away. He would need someone to stand by and support him no matter what he does and no matter how horribly he treats that person. Such a relationship has the potential to become toxic if boundaries are not set and if Jack doesn’t grow as a person.

The Jack of XC is desperate for a single friend, but 98% of the cast sees him as a pathetic loser, and not worth a second of their time. Those that do see value in Jack’s companionship have all been hurt by Jack’s betrayal and lack of trust, or have betrayed Jack, because they have no trust in him (often from a previous encounter). For this Jack to form a stable friendship, he needs someone who he can talk to honestly, openly, and not be judged for his feelings, and he seems to want someone who talks the same way to him. He’s ready for a relationship, he just doesn’t have the rapport or trust built up with anyone.

TL;DR

Jack lacks basic trust in all his relationships. He would need someone he can constantly count on, while also setting healthy and reasonable boundaries with that person. If honesty and trust--ABSOLUTE TRUST--is there, Jack can have a friend, maybe even something more.

#Chaos replies #anon #Jack Spicer #analysis #//the potential is there with Shadow and I strongly believe they were going to become an end game in XC #//but yeah he's burned so many bridges and there aren't even ropes left on some for him to climb on

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foodcourtdetective · 5 years ago

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thinking too hard

summary: barry berkman has been trying to forget about his soulmate for both of their sakes, but Y/N is making it very hard and using their soulmate connection to draw all over him.

tags: angsty, soulmate au, love at first sight, very brief Barry x Sally, definitely a happy ending!

A/N: I’m just really into soulmate!au’s and Barry Berkman okay?!?! (and // means time passes)

word count 2.4k

AO3 x

He hated Los Angeles. Barry’s long sleeve shirt stuck to him in the desert heat, sweat pooling in his armpits and on his back. NoHank asked him about his outfit choice, offering him a short-sleeved shirt or a tank top.

“You want to take one of their shirts? They won’t mind, they’re confident in their bodies!” NoHank said, gesturing over to the Chechen recruits. Barry shook his head, clearing his throat in discomfort. After a moment, NoHank made a movement to push up Barry’s sleeves for him, but Barry was too quick and grabbed NoHank’s pinky, bending it all the way back.

“Shit shit, okay okay! Someone has body issues! We will talk about accepting your body some other time then.” Barry ignored him, staring coldly ahead as the young Chechen recruit finally hit a beer can with his bullet.

When he finally got back to his apartment, Barry made a beeline for the bathroom, nodding briefly at Jermaine and Nick on his way. After peeling off his shirt and grabbing the sink, Barry took a look at his body or rather what was on it. Today, his soulmate had kept it simple: a heart on his wrist, a note to pick up two lattes at 9, and a flower chain that started at his trigger finger and trailed all the way up his forearm. He sighed, holding back a soft smile as her traced up the stem of flowers with his other pointer fingers. As he ended the journey at his inner forearm, Barry stopped to see a less traditional note: written on his upper chest right over his heart, in simple cursive, it read please talk to me, Barry. A deep sigh filled the tiny bathroom and he gently caressed their handwriting. The familiar movement triggered a whirl of memories.

Writing excitedly on his leg the moment he turned sixteen to introduce himself to his soulmate only to get no response. Giving up on love and joining the Marines shortly after. Noticing the shy hello scribbled on his hand seven years later when he was already too far gone. Writing to them any chance he got once he find out the silence was because they had not been old enough yet. Learning her name was Y/N and that she lived in California. Having to break off communication once Fuches put him to work. The sharp lines she had drawn as she had asked if he could feel the sharp indent of her pen, told him that ignoring them for their own good was ridiculous. The obscene images Y/N had drawn all over him the first couple of years, trying to get an angry message from him, any message.

His heart sank, but Barry knew as much as it hurt both of them, it was better for them to move on, to pretend to not have a soulmate. God knows Barry would rather hide her away, hide his shot at happiness, than have her be tortured or worse by any of his enemies or allies. He groaned, his knuckles turning whiter than the sink.

His acting class didn’t know what to make of him at first; his long, dark clothing sharply contrasted their tight shorts and tank tops, skin flaunting their connections. But despite himself, Barry grew close to Sally, a girl who had never seen any marks on her body. After hearing that Barry also had a blank canvas, she pounced on him with a marker she had seemingly pulled out of nowhere, drawing a star on his knuckles. However, despite her persistence, no matching star appeared on her own. Sally declared them star-crossed soulmates and asked him on a date.

After a late night of drinks, Barry found himself making out with Sally on her couch. She went to pull off his shirt and for the first time in his life, he mindlessly complied, distracted by the intimacy. Sally suddenly shot up from the couch, crying out as she pointed to the drawings adorning his chest. Y/N had seen the star Sally had drawn and, hopeful that it was a message to her, drew out an intricate night sky. Hidden among the stars, scrawled out in cursive, she wrote I’m here when you’re ready, Barry. -Y/N.

“How dare you! You lied just to get into my pants?!” Sally tripped over herself to pick up his discarded shirt, balling it up to chuck at him. Barry pulled it on, dazed all the way home until he saw the message glint in the mirror as he was getting undressed. Barry slammed his fist into the wall, shouting out in frustration. Ass his phone rang, the caller ID revealing it was Fuches, Barry scrambled to put his shirt back on, scribbling a message to Y/N on the fleshy part of his bicep. I’m a hitman. Don’t message me unless you want to die.

After the assignment, Barry found himself staring at his chest and reading her pleas to talk further. That’s not funny. Barry. Barry! Oh my god, you’re serious. That explains a few things. You gotta talk to me, your soulmate? I need to know why. Barry sighed, wandering over to his bedroom to get a pen from his desk. He sat on the bed, anxiously fiddling with the pen in between his fingers before writing on his trigger finger: you still want to talk to me? He waits, watching the loopy letters sweep down his arm like a signature under the floral art she continued to draw every day.

Yes, I have a death wish. He laughed at the absurdity of their conversation before responding.

Why are all artists suicidal?

See, I’d rather have this with you than live without it. Her words made him freeze in his tracks, his fingers gently stroking over the confession as they faded away, scrubbed off by the writer. She filled the now empty space with a series of numbers; Barry furrowed his brow, trying to decode the secret message. After a moment Y/N wrote again underneath them.

Running out of space! Text me! He hesitated, his heart in his throat as he debated if the convenience was worth sacrificing her safety. Finally, with shaking hands, he dialed the number and hit call. A soft hello followed the ringing, the voice so angelic that he knew he would do whatever she asked him to do.

“I said text, not call! You do know how to read, right?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s nice to hear your voice!”

“What? No, I mean I’m sorry for…” Barry trailed off, his mind swarmed by memories of pushing her away and feeling her anguish through the pointy pen tip.

“You wanted to protect me. I get it. Now we’re even from when I couldn’t write to you.”

“That wasn’t intentional.”

“It would have been! I was a pretty rebellious eleven year old.” He laughed, the silence after he finishes awkward until he breaks it.

“I’m in LA.”

“For work?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

Barry doodles a flower on his thumb. It’s not as pretty as any of hers, but she draws a faint heart around it. He brushes the heart, his own beating so loudly it was in his ears.

“I’m scared.”

“Me too.”

“Because of who I am? What I do?” His throat was thick from holding back the dam of emotion, but his voice managed to crack in desperation.

“I’m scared you’re going to leave me again.” Barry paused at that, his own heart breaking a little at the thought of all of the pain he must have caused Y/N by abandoning her. He’s now drawing a bouquet on his forearm, a sloppier version of her own.

“You don’t have to be afraid of that. Once I see you for the first time, I’m probably never going to leave you alone ever again… Not in a creepy way…”

“I would love that.”

“I’m giving you an out right now. You can hang up, stay in the safety of your life as a… what do you do again?”

“Graphic design!”

“I knew you were an artist!”

“And I knew you were a comedian!”

“Weird way of pronouncing what I actually do…” She giggled at that, falling quiet after a hearty laugh.

“Look at your leg. I’ll see you there at 9. Don’t be late!” As she hung up, Barry pressed his phone to his lips in shock. Remembering her words, he pulled his pants down to read the directions she had jotted onto his thigh, the dots in the I’s drawn as hearts instead of dots; he almost died of pure joy right then and there.

In hindsight, it was good that Y/N had suggested a coffee shop to meet because Barry had not gotten a wink of sleep the entire night. He had stared at the ceiling, flat on his back and still fondly stroking her writing on his leg. As his pointer finger traced the hearts, he felt his own thud loudly in his chest. It was easier to protect her when she was just lines on his person, just another part of him that he hated, another vulnerability. But hearing Y/N’s voice, imagining what she might look like, had ignited a wanting within him, a need to be with her, his other half. She was no longer just a part of him; she was a separate entity that he wanted to get to know and love.

He had gotten to the shop as soon as it opened at 4, wanting to figure out where the best table inside would be and staking it out for them. The barista had made him order a drink at 5:30; panicked and feeling about a thousand years old, Barry ordered “something to bring me back to life.” At 6 he was shuttering, borderline convulsing from the quad espresso that he consumed quickly. His anxiety was through the room, but all he could do was dig his fingernails into his palm which was resting on his jeans over her handwriting. What if she wasn’t as okay with the age difference as she thought she was? What if it hits her that her soulmate is a hitman? What if the drawings stop appearing. What if—

Barry jolted awake in his seat, now realizing that he had crashed from the overdose of caffeine. The barista (Stacie, he later learned) made a joke about having to restart his heart. He checked his phone: 8:30am. Suddenly, a thought dawned on him and he ordered another drink. By the time Stacie brought it over and started walking back to the counter, the bell above the door tingled. Barry immediately stood up like Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice, turning to look at the customer. She sensed his stare immediately, turning to look him over as a dreamy blush painted her cheeks.

“Barry?” She whispered, his name less of a question and more of a disbelief. He swallowed, his throat dry as he looked over Y/N, his soulmate. She was absolutely picturesque, an almost pure aura of light around her as the door slowly shut behind her. As she drew near, Barry was almost too aware of how he towered over, a menacing presence.

“I gotcha a latt-“ Barry didn’t even get to finish his stuttering as Y/N grabbed his collar and pulled him down into a kiss. His mouth was already half open and he stumbled forward from the force of her tug. It wasn’t the most coordinated kiss in the world, her mouth mostly on his bottom lip and her teeth lightly bumped his by accident; but it was theirs. Barry felt his body fill with a warmth, like his whole being was sighing with relief at being united with his soulmate as he kissed her back. He had thought that the doodles and the sound of her voice would do him in, but this… this would knock his entire life’s path off track. After a moment, Barry gently placed his hands on her cheeks and pulled away, just looking down at her in awe.

“How did you know my coffee order?” Y/N asked, her grin stretched out wider than Barry previously thought possible. He babbled for a few seconds, removing his hands to gesticulate as he just expressed a bunch of word fillers before finally managing to get something out.

“Y-you, you wrote it on your hand as a-a part of your to-to-to do list,” he explained, trying to stick his erratic hands in his pockets but Y/N swung her hand forward to snatch his hand. She squealed, making a joke about how sweaty his hand was and Barry thought he would die of a heart attack right then and there. She pulled him down again, this time so they could sit at the table together and she could take a sip of her latte. Barry simply stared at her, his brain slightly short circuiting with delight. Eventually, rational thought caught up with him and Barry tried to remove his hand from hers, but she had a firm grip and a look in her eye that told him she already knew what he was going to say.

“You’re not worried about…”

“I thought we already went over this, Barry. I’m in! I’m all in,” she declared sweetly, leaning over to capture his lips once again. He was consumed by it, by her, his head swirling with a dizziness of emotion and his lungs burning with a heartache of regrets. They could have had this so much sooner, if he had left the army, if he hadn’t made that deal with Fuches, if he hadn’t been an idiot about wanting to protect her. The deep and mind numbing kiss ended as Y/N broke it to breathe heavy. Barry looked at her through lidded eyes, revering her with every fiber of his being.

“You are good at that! It’s a good thing too because it looks like I’m gonna have to kiss you every five minutes to get you out of that type of thinking,” she giggled, moving to lean back in her chair but Barry slung an arm around her waist, pulling her back into him with a soft smile.

“Better make it every two minutes because I’m thinking again,” he joked, his heart glowing as the love of his life obliged his request and kissed him senseless.

#barry berkman x reader #barry #barry hbo #barry block x reader #soulmate au #soulmate!au #barry berkman imagine #barry block imagine #barry berkman #barry block #bill hader #hbo #bill hader x reader #my words #barry x sally

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judgement-free-sideblog · 5 years ago

Text

Occupational hazards

Barry Berkman x Reader

Three part series: It was just another job, he doesn’t even had to kill anyone, but the way she looked at him was more dangerous than the bullets.

Part I Part II Part III

Angst with a happy ending

Warnings: Violence, cursing, blood, stalkers.

Part I

“I remember telling you to fuck off and stop calling me” You say answering the phone the fifth time it rings, knowing too well he won’t stop until you do “I made myself clear, don’t call me, don’t contact me, keep your stupid flowers and presents to yourself and stay the fuck away from me”

“Oh my little Y/N” Says his drunk voice in the other end “You know you like it, this little number of yours, pretending you don’t need a man will end as soon as you feel lonely, why don’t we speed things up and simply let me come up with you?” He said and you froze, how does he knew you were at the second floor of your house? You looked outside the window but couldn’t see anything, nervously you closed your sleeping robe with a tight knot suddenly feeling exposed “You don’t have to be so shy, I already know what is behind that” He said and you toss the phone aside, but you could still listen to his laugh, when will this nightmare end??

“Fuck you Richard!!!” You scream at the phone, but he had already hung up. You closed all the windows and went straight to your bathroom cabinets, it had to be there.

You finally found it, a few years back when your name was still unknown and your main job was stacking candles and towels in a store, and before you had a sociopath for an ex, you became friends with this weird and really sweet bald guy on Pottery Barn, you helped him redecorate his room and you even talk once in a while over the phone, or at least until last year when he said he was going back to Chechnya to visit his family, but before he went away, and after he met the charming man you were dating and seeing the bruises in your arms he gave you a card and told you, if you ever need to get rid of that guy just call this number.

You light on a cigarette, and sit on the floor of your bathroom thinking, what does get rid of meant? Hank, judging by his tattoos, was not an entirely innocent folk, but at this point you were desperate, and you cursed yourself for ever start dating a man like that, the all charming and thoughtful movie producer, you knew your career will be damaged forever if you kept avoiding him but coming back to be treated like garbage and not being able to eat, dress or think on your own was not an option. You finally gathered the courage and dialled the number.

“Fuches” a raspy voice said on the other end.

“Hi, ammm” you were not sure what exactly where you going to say.

“Who is this? Hello?? Who gave you this number? Are you there?” The man seem angry and a bit condescending in his tone and somehow his rudeness made you speak up.

“Yeah, I’m here” You started with more confidence “I got this number from NoHo Hank, he said you could help me to… to get rid of someone”.

“Ahh” The man was calmed now, almost happy “Well in that case any friend of Hank is friend of mine, but I warn you madame that won’t be cheap” He said and you stand up from the floor glimpsing at yourself in the mirror, shocked to see how pale you looked, and how scared you actually felt.

***

Barry entered his apartment begging for Jermaine or Nick to be there and use them as an excuse to tell Fuches to fuck off, but it was empty except for the never ending amount of trash that always was in their comon space, he stopped trying to tell them to clean like three months ago and now he only limited to hide in his room away from the beer cans and chips bags.

It didn’t matter that much really, at least not before, as long as Sally was there to talk to him or as long as he could call her, but then she got that part in a big movie, and he was happy for her, that was her dream and he would never get between her and her dream, but then she stop being around the class due to rehearsals, and then she change a beer in Residual’s to fancy and expensive dinners with her costars and then one day she simply said goodbye.

But he had come to the conclusion that he deserved that, he took away Mr. Cousineau’s happiness so it was only fair for him to lose it as well, and Sally was still his friend, as long as he could find a 5 minutes gap to talk in her busy schedule every other week.

He was still on the class, and he was getting better or at least he no longer missed his lines, and he had even recieved a callback for a commercial, but he didn’t get it in the end.

And now Fuches was coming back to screw up everything again, Barry looked at the clock, 4:02 he would be there any minute, for a brief moment his mind travel to his gun under his bed, and how just one year before he was desperate to see him and kill him from once, but then Mr Cousineau started making questions, and to suspect, accurately, that he had killed Moss, and Fuches chose to come clean, or at least enough to settle things down.

He told Gene the Chechens killed Moss and that they wanted to implicate Barry, so he called the cops on him so Barry would take the blame and end up in jail, he played his Part as a poor looser, alone and miserable well enough and Barry chose not to kill him, as long as he would stay away from them, and he had kept his promise until that morning. He would say no, obviously but he needed to say it to his face to reassure him or to himself that it was all done.

A knock on the door put him in alert, and he muttered a simple “Come in” keeping himself away from the entrance. Fuches entered the room with an almost curious expression on his face, he looked at the trash an made a disgusted frown, and then looked at Barry from head to toe, he looked paler or maybe just tired, he for sure was, that stubborn woman was by far the most picky and difficult client he ever had by far, but with enough luck Barry may solve it.

“Nice place” He said finally with a sarcastic grin

“That’s my roommate’s doing” Barry answered in a monotone “Coffee? beer?”

“If you are really being nice I’ll take the beer” Fuches said and without waiting for an invitation he found a place to sit.

“I’m not.” Barry answered and sit in front of him. “What do you want?”

“Ahh there it is” Fuches roll his eyes “I got a job for you, and I think you may like this one…”

“What the fuck man?” Barry interrupted mid sentence. “We haven’t seen each other in almost a year, I was very clear then as I’m now I don’t want to do that anymore”

“Boy listen, is way easier and you’ll get pay three times more than previous works” He said completely ignoring him.

“I don’t give a fuck about the money, I told you I don’t want to work for you” Barry put both hands over his face, this was exasperating.

“Fine, now look at me like you were about to kill me” He said taking Barry by surprise.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He said after an uncomfortable silence.

“Look kid, a week ago I received a call from a crazy actress, you may know her Y/N something” He started

“Is not Y/N Y/L/N by any chance?” Barry asked, remembering something that Natalie and Sasha said about her.

“Yes, that one, complete basket case” Fuches continued “She asked me if I could eliminate her ex boyfriend, some Hollywood big shot that I genuinely couldn’t care less about. I said yes sure, I’ll send someone to do it, then she change her mind and called me back, and said she simply wants to scare him, but she wants to meet the guy she is paying. And she hated him, and I show her my folder of other employees and well…”

“Oh come on man, that’s on you, you shouldn’t have my picture there” Barry said now understanding what had happen.

“Yeah I get that, but the thing is I said to her you no longer work for me, and she offered the triple, and I told her that if she wanted you so badly then she would have to convince you by herself, and that’s why I’m here, I need you to go see her, say no and then she would pick one of my guys and I’ll be out of your life forever” He said like if he was offering the most interesting deal ever. “Take it as an acting job” He add when Barry didn’t respond “You get to meet a pretty and famous actress, and you can scream to her everything you just said to me, also I’ll pay you”

Barry remained silent for another moment thinking about the situation, it seemed like an easy deal, and some extra money wouldn’t be that bad, and if he played his cards well enough he could even make sure Fuches to stay away form him for good.

“Fine I’ll do it” he said after a while “But is just this and it’s over, no more phone calls, no more jobs no anything, I turn down this woman and that’s it.” He said seriously.

“Consider it done son, just one more deal and I’m out of your life” Fuches said happy, and then got up the chair and started leaving “You have to meet her tomorrow in a restaurant, I’ll send you the address” Barry nodded and watched him leave, then he went to his room to search something about the woman he was about to meet.

Y/N was a gorgeous woman and a talented actress, but apparently the media didn’t like her very much since she had a reckless life style, there were many pictures of her smoking and drinking, and she had a long list of ex lovers, and the most prominent of those was some guy called Richard Maverick, he recognized that name, it was the director and producer of Sally’s movie, more of a reason to not working for that woman, since the guy didn’t seem like a bad person, and she did.

***

Sparkling bubbles were moving in your glass of water, it have been sitting there since the waiter pour it, but you were to nervous to touch it, it was a nice table, out in the terrace of the restaurant and you were sure anyone walking by the street would be able to see you, so it worked perfectly for your plan, now everything else depended on the man you hear approaching behind you.

“Snow White?” He asked and sited in the spot in front of you, he was clean shaved and wearing a black blazer over a dark green tshirt, definitely not what you expected from someone of his profession.

“Is from Notting Hill, the movie with Julia Roberts, don’t you like it? God you really are tall, how much is it like 6'3”?“ You said unable to stop yourself, but concentrating on his face, there was something sad about his blue eyes, almost melancholic.

"6'2” and no I don’t think I saw it, the oscar winning one?“ He said a bit ashamed by his poor Hollywood trivia knowledge.

"Oh absolutely not, some old romantic comedy, you should see it some time.” You said, and the whole situation felt more and more surreal “Well I’m Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you Mr. Berkman, or do you prefer Block?” You said please to se the surprise on his face.

“Berkman is fine, how do you know?” He said examining your face.

“Well is not every day that I have to hire a professional assassin, so I needed to get some references, and your employer was distracted enough so I could stole this from him, here you can have it back” You said sliding his picture across the table. “I saw a couple videos of your callbacks, you shouldn’t stoop that much when you read it would help in the auditions”

“So this is what you do?” He said and his tone was calm but there was fury in his eyes “You manipulate people into working with you, making then feel like you know everything about them and pretending to be nice and polite? Well I have news for you, first of all I don’t work for Fuches, and second, you can put out all of this glamorous crap that you have on me and the answer still be no, I don’t this anymore”

“Would you like to order?” The waiter said before any of you could keep speaking.

“Sure, shrimp risotto for me, and for my dear friend… what do you want honey?” You said smiling at him.

“The same sounds fine” he said and smile back at you changing his tone immediately. “And red wine?"He asked you with a checky wink and you nodded. "Red it is” The waiter nod and walked away.

“Not bad, you are a quick responder, I like that” you said looking as the man walked away. “But you don’t know shit about me” You spat at him once the waiter couldn’t hear “Glamorous crap? Oh let me guess you read one of the many articles about how much of a whore I am? I have a drinking and smoking problem is that it? That I have slept my way into every work I ever had, and how little I deserved my career, and how much good it was for Richard to walk away form me even when he still loves me? Well that’s all bullshit” There it was again, even when you were trying to escape he was still holding you in his hands. “Well the magazines that work for him doesn’t tell I went to drama school, they didn’t say I have a dying mother that gets every penny I make, they didn’t say that I could count the men I slept with the fingers on one hand I will be sparing 2, they don’t say he forced himself on me more times I can remember, or how he enjoys sleeping with every woman that works for him no matter the age just because he is The man”

“Go the police then, tell them that, why do you need me?” He said, but with less confidence than before and it was obvious his mental image of you was crumbling.

“The L.A. Police that gets donations from him every year? I’m a whore, to them, to Richard, to you and to everyone. I have no voice” Fortunately the waiter arrived with the food and you could stop to think, talking about this made you feel exposed, and you were questioning if it was worth the trouble at all.

“Why me? If you need him out of your life so bad I’m sure Fuches have someone right for the job” He said and started eating avoiding your gaze, you didn’t have an appetite anymore but force yourself to do the same.

“Have you seen the guys that work for Fuches? They look like hobos and meth heads, he is not some random dude, he is rich and powerful if he dies people would ask questions and eventually that would come back to me, also he would die loved and mourned, and he doesn’t deserve that.”

“And scared him off is better how? If someone goes to him and beat him it would come back at you faster and worse” He said taking a sip of his wine.

“Men always think physically right?” You said drinking as well and looking at him “I never said beat him, I told fuches I needed you specifically and he said he doesn’t work for me anymore, he is an actor now, and then I knew you were exactly what I needed. I don’t need some hitman to go beat the crap out of Richard even if he deserves it. I need someone to escort me from my apartment to work, and to public events and keep him away from me.”

“Those are called bodyguards and I’m pretty sure there are legal business that can provide their services to you” He said condescendingly.

“Like the one that is at my house right now and doesn’t even know I went out?” You said smiling “Or the one that give my alarm password to Richard so he could read his script? Legal people can be bought, and they have things to lose, that doesn’t work for me, he is a monster and a criminal, so I need someone outside the law to outsmart him” You said to him and the shadow of a smile formed in his lips before he spoke.

“So you think I’m a monster too? Look I’m sorry for you, your situation must be horrifying, but I leave that life behind, I’m no longer that guy and I don’t want to be, I’m sorry but I don’t want my past mistakes to keep haunting me, I’m tired of that. I’m sorry” He said, and you believed him but you couldn’t lost this chance.

“Mr Berkman, can I call you Barry?” You started and he nod affirmatively “Barry do you ever have nightmares about your mistakes?”

“Every night” He answered

“But when you wake up, when you go to work, when you talk to your significant other, when you are eating, those mistakes are dead, those people and those lifes you took they remained where you leave them. Your mistakes don’t call you at 3 am to remain you you are a slut, your mistakes don’t sell naked pictures of you to magazines to make you feel miserable because you are no longer sleeping with them. Your mistakes don’t force you to go down on them in order to don’t recast your part and then don’t threaten to ruin your career and leave your mother without her cancer treatment.” You said and a tear finally find it’s way down your cheek. “Fine I get it, you want to be a better person, well so am I, I need to run away from this and I’m so desperate that I called you, but it’s okay I have no way to force you into this, you don’t have to be sorry about me” you said hopeless, and he remained silent for a couple minutes looking at you occasionally and then his plate now almost empty.

“What exactly would I have to do?” He said finally “I’m not accepting, I just want to know” he add before you could react.

“Offering me your arm in social events, walked me to my apartment at nights, and take me to lovely lunches like this one every few days, basically being a human purse, just looking handsome and put together next to me, and let the magazines and the media make their assumptions”

“I’m not a prostitute” He said and you found the statement ridiculously funny.

“And I wouldn’t pay you to fuck me sunshine” you said with a grin “But I have learned that men respect other men’s "property” more than a women’s NO, and if I start seeing a handsome, blue eyed, literal war hero from the Midwest he would look like an asswhole if he keeps pushing how much he misses me in interviews"

“Fine” He said looking straight to your eyes “I’ll do it, when do you want to start?”

“Well if you consider the three girls with her phones out that just crossed behind you on the street, I would say I already owe you overtime, but tomorrow is fine, I would send you my address and other details with my publicist”

“Don’t you think is better if we have the least amount of people involved in this?” He said with an uncomfortable look on his face.

“Adrian is like a sister to me, I trust her my life.” You said and he seemed conformed with that answer “And Barry, thank you”.

#barry berkman x you #barry berkman fanfiction #barry berkman edit #barry berkman x reader #barry berkman #barry hbo #barry block #gene cousineau #sally reed #monroe fuches #fuches #bill hader #barry berkman imagine #fanfiction #angst with a happy ending #angst #100

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sadoeuphemist · 5 years ago

Text

Paul Donovan found the music box on his mother’s mantelpiece, after the funeral. It was a plain little wooden box with a brass key to wind it with, and he could not remember ever having seen it before in his life. But he remembered his mother’s voice, and how she had loved to sing: the lullabies to lull him off to sleep; her soft, half-hummed songs wafting through the house as she folded the laundry, or watered her plants, or did her crosswords. And so he wound the key, and let the music box play.

It played a lighthearted, tinkling tune, that from its first note made the empty house seem as clear and bright as the first day of spring, and it took several seconds before Paul realized that the music box was talking to him.

“Hello?” it said, sang. “Hello, hello, hello,” like a refrain, in its little tinkling metal voice, like a little child talking. I’m new! I’m born! How are you? Who are you? How very nice to meet someone new!”

The song was so enchanting that becoming aware of the voice felt like waking from a dream, and it was in that dreamlike state that Paul replied: “I’m Paul. It’s nice to meet you too.”

“Hello, Paul,” it said sweetly. “Where are we? What are we doing here? This is all new to me, you know. I’m glad you’re here to help me sort it out!”

The grit of the back and forth wore through Paul’s reverie, and he blinked, squinting down at the little rotating drum and the gears and tines all interlocking to make sounds. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Are you talking to me?”

“Um... yes?” The voice giggled. “Hello again, Paul!”

He set the music box down, let his hands hang awkwardly at his sides. He was in his mother’s house, still in his black suit, and her music box was talking to him. “Oh,” he said.

The voice was nameless, being newly-born, and chattered on excitedly about everything and anything. After a minute or so it began to trail off, its cadence growing unsteady and sluggish. “I’m sorry,” it said, its voice a twanging yawn. “I’m . . . just getting . . . so . . . tired . . .”

“Oh!” said Paul, roused to initiative, and picked up the box and wound it up again, crick, crick, crick. “There. Is that better?”

“Oh, yes, yes!” said the voice, bright and chipper. “What happened? What did you do?”

“You were . . . winding down.” For some reason he was hesitant to say the words, and now felt the need to talk even more to compensate for his hesitation. “You’re . . . all gears, you know. Springs being wound up. And I have to, uh, to wind the spring, to give it tension, so that it slowly releases and lets you move.”

“Oh,” said the voice, and that was the first flat note in its melody. “But you’ll keep me wound, won’t you?” it said, eager again. “You’ll keep me moving?”

“I...” said Paul Donovan. The house was empty, and suddenly he was scared of the silence. “Yes.”

***

He walked around his mother’s house with the music box in his hands, filling the rooms with song. He twisted the key slightly every so often, like a caress. “Did you know my mother?” he said.

“No,” said the box. “I’m sorry. The first thing I remember was you, and saying hello to you.”

“You were hers,” he said. “I think. I found you here. This was her house.”

“I’m sure she was a very lovely woman.”

He found himself talking about his mother again, about how she had sang as easily as breathing, and the box listened, or rather accompanied him in its metal tones. As he talked, he felt a great grief building up in him again, and found himself absurdly irritated by the meaningless chatter of the music box. It was soothing, yes, but no more than soothing. He felt as though there should have been some deep and portentous secret hidden in the box, some profound revelation, and now he felt cheated that it was simply a pleasant, attentive companion and nothing more than that.

He looked at the fading light through the windows and saw that it was getting dark. “Listen,” he said. “It’s been great talking to you. This is . . . I mean, this is amazing. I don’t know any other way to describe it. But I’m . . . This has been a long day. How about I close you up for now, and then I take you home with me, and we can keep talking about this later.”

“What do you mean?” it said hesitantly. “You’re going to let me wind down?”

“Yes,” he said reassuringly. “But only for a little while. I’ll wind you back up once I -”

“No!” it shrieked, like a tine of metal snapping, and he flinched. Its voice went brittle, high-pitched. “You can’t! I don’t - I don’t want to wind down! I don’t want to just stop!”

“It’ll be fine,” he offered. “It’ll just be like going to sleep, for a bit, that’s all.”

“Sleep? What’s sleep!?” it said, and he could hear the slowing in its voice now, like metal trying to creak through rust. “I can feel it, Paul! I can feel it! My mind . . . It gets so hard to think, and the ideas that . . . that they were so close before, and sharp, and clear, and everything’s . . . It’s . . . Please! Paul! Don’t let me . . . Don’t let me . . .. !”

Fingers fumbling, he grabbed up the box, twisted the key in three sharp rotations again, finally releasing his breath when he heard the voice take on its former lighthearted melody. “Don’t do that again,” it said. “Don’t let that happen. Promise?”

He set the box down. His hands were trembling. “I can’t promise that,” Paul said.

***

He started timing on his phone. The music box needed to be wound roughly every minute and a half, or slightly longer if he allowed it to get distressed. He did the math in his head as it insisted and begged and pleaded. Twice every three minutes, twenty times per half hour, meant winding this thing forty times an hour. Twenty-four hours a day.

“You were wound down before I found you,” he tried to tell it. He had it on his mother’s dining table, beneath the lights. “That’s all being wound down is. It doesn’t hurt. I wound you up and now you’re fine. You’re fine!”

“I don’t remember that!” it said. The drum and tines and gears all ground together in their little incremental movements. “I told you! I don’t remember anything before you! That means that winding down - That’s nothing! It’s nothingness! It means I disappear, Paul! It means I don’t exist!”

He wound it up again, crick, crick, crick.

“But you -” Perhaps it was just his imagination, his state of mind, but the song seemed shriller now, this unpleasant note of metal strain beneath its words. “You’re a music box. Winding down, it doesn’t hurt the mechanisms at all. The gears, the spring - they’re all in there, still intact. Just waiting to move again, be wound up again, that’s all.”

“Am I the mechanisms, Paul? Is that all I am? Is that all you are, the mechanisms? Can I let you wind to a stop, go silent, no motion, no hearing, no seeing, no nothing, and then wind you back up again and have you go on as if nothing’s changed? Does that work for you, Paul?”

Older, he thought maniacally, staring down at the water stains in the table. That’s what’s changed. The voice is getting older. I’ve left it going for too long. Metal strain. Wear and tear. Just let it wind down. It’ll be a mercy.

“I’m not spring and gears, Paul!” it shrieked. “I’m not mechanisms! I’m a song, Paul! I’m a song!”

“I can’t do this,” he said, standing up abruptly. He turned away from the music box, starting his circuit of the house again. “You’ll be fine, I’m telling you. It’s like going to sleep. It won’t hurt at all.”

“You can’t do this to me, Paul!” it cried from behind him. “You can’t! You can’t!”

***

He couldn’t do it.

He would hear it babbling, slurring its words, all sense of self slowly grinding to a halt as it clung with every last once of strength to the contact of pins against tines. It was a person. It was a person deteriorating, helpless, slowly succumbing to nonexistence, and every time he would run back again and wind it up to breathe a sigh of relief to hear it start singing once again.

Just go into another room, he told himself. Just go into another room and close the door and shut its voice out. It would only take a little over a minute and a half, two minutes at most, and then it would be quiet and complacent and then he could take it home with him and wind it up again, and then they could both laugh together at how silly it had been for worrying. But it spoke constantly now, not pausing for breath, and its pleas pierced at him, carrying everywhere, and even with his hand on the knob he could not bring himself to shut the door and silence it, even if only to himself.

“I can’t do this,” he said. He was back at his mother’s dining table, slouched over, head in hands. The sun had long since set. “I can’t do this! And you can’t expect me to! Every minute, every minute of every day, without a break!”

“You don’t have to!” it said. It was an old shrill voice now, he was sure of it, “You don’t have to do this alone! Anyone, just anyone. Take turns! Take it in shifts -”

“No. No, that’s ridiculous. For a music box! Or for a song, whatever!” He wound it up again, automatically by now. Crick, crick, crick. He could feel the imprint of the crank worn into his fingers, the tender flesh. “Eight hour shifts - even for an hour at a time! Expecting someone to keep winding, winding, winding - It’s not worth it!”

“Why not! This is my life, Paul! Isn’t it worth giving up a fraction of your life, that tiny inconvenience, so that I can live?”

Of course, there were other people. He could have called Jermaine, Martin. They would have willingly sat up with him all night, taken it in shifts. But some inner part of him revulsed at the idea of making anyone else responsible. Life, of course it was life! And wouldn’t anyone, if told of the very sensible trade-offs, find themselves obligated to tend to this vulnerable new life, keep winding up the gears and springs so as to continue its fragile song? What else were they going to do, let it die? But he was the one who had wound it up to begin with, who had given it hope, taught it about death, ushered this awareness into its short, anxious, and terrified existence. It was all his fault. How could he ask anyone else to take responsibility for that?

His fingers moved again. Crick, crick, crick.

“- or, isn’t there a way to keep me moving?” it suggested. “More gears, more weights, springs that wind each other . . .”

“A machine,” Paul muttered. He looked blearily down at the music box. Of course. With modern technology, it would be simple. A motor set on a timer, or - He had a vision of the mechanisms, made self-sufficient. A clockwork music box with clockwork limbs - Of course. Of course. He stood up, knocking over his chair. “Of course. We just need to - I mean, nothing’s going to be open this time of night, but we could rig something up -” He looked to his mother’s mixer, and unplugged it and set it on the table next to the music box. “Just a minute,” he said, and wound it up again. “We can make you better, make you bigger. Make you wind yourself up!” He glanced around. “I know she kept some tools under the stairs...”

“Really?” gasped the music box.

“Yeah. Yeah!” said Paul, and dashed to the stairs and came back lugging a tool box. He pulled out a Phillips head, squinting at the mixer’s screws. “Wouldn’t you like that? Being able to move around by yourself?”

“Oh,” the music box breathed. “And change songs. And do more than sing! Do you . . . do you think I could dance?”

“Yeah, why not!” He was falling into a rhythm now. Unscrew the screws, twist, twist, twist; give the box a few more cranks, back and forth, back and forth. The bits and pieces of the mixer were starting to spread across the table. He only had the dimmest idea of how he was going to attach the mixer motor to the music box, but he was sure he would work something out when he came to it. The song was young again, renewed with hope, taking on some of its former vivacity, and Paul found himself swaying along to its tune, listening to its giddy babble of dreams of what would come. Back and forth he went, the mixer coming compliantly apart, and he found himself imagining filigreed limbs and delicate clockwork fingers, a musical heart that neither stopped nor died . . .

***

Paul woke up.

The dawn light shone through the windows. He rose from a puddle of his own drool, a terrible crick in his neck. What guilt had not managed, eagerness had. His mother’s mixer was strewn out in parts across the table, and the music box lay where he had left it, silent and inert.

He sat there, staring at it, as if waking from a dream.

Paul stood, went to the sink, and splashed water on his face. Got a glass from the cupboard and gulped some down. His stomach was hollow, and his neck was stiff. He had a blister on his finger where the key had worn away at it. He looked back at the music box. It was nothing now. Nothing. Just a plain wooden box.

It would be funny, he told himself, if he wound it up again and the song was back, unchanged, and all the stress of the day before had been for nothing. He reached out for it, hesitated.

He went into the living room and sat on the couch.

It would be best, he thought, to quietly put it back on the mantelpiece and not touch it. Accept what he had done. Mourn. The song was over, had ended, had been allowed to slide into senescence and die, had died alone and confused and understanding nothing, save for the fact that something irreplaceable had been lost. Any new song would be just that - a new song, existing for just a little while, and always on the verge of nonexistence, a new consciousness that would be made to face the reality of its own death.

And yet, he thought. And yet, and yet, and yet. If only he could open up the box and find the song preserved, just paused in its play for a moment, ready to resume. Maybe it was always the same song. Maybe everything was preserved, unchanging.

The thought repulsed him suddenly, without him quite knowing why, and he stood up and paced around the table again, staring at that wooden box, wanting to repeat his mistake, fearing what thing still lay inside, persisting.

He blinked, once, twice, and then before he could stop himself grabbed up the box and wound it up, crick, crick, crick, and then set it back down on the table as if it was radioactive. He was holding his breath.

A note rang through the morning light, as clear and bright as the first day of spring.

#fiction

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bigwickerdynamite · 6 years ago

Text

Fingerless Gloves and Tailor-Made Suits

Lisa sat opposite Jermaine. His body was held tightly together as he sat, nervous and sick, holding his breath in anticipation for the news Lisa was bound to deliver.

“I just can’t see a way around this”, she uttered. Her demeanour spoke more than her words ever could. Her arms were clumsily positioned on the table that separated her and Jermaine. Her shoulders were slumped and her eyes barely acknowledged his presence.

Jermaine felt his body almost close in on itself as he did not allow himself to breathe, still in anticipation of Lisa’s next words. Her fingers tapped on the table with no rhythm before she decided to speak once more.

“We’ll have to let you go”.

Jermaine let himself breathe again and as he did he found himself releasing all the tension that had been building up these past few days. With his tension went his hopes and dreams, along with his happiness, pride and purpose. It was now a shell of a man that remained in the meeting room. Breathing and thinking nonsense thoughts with an absent mind but not much more.

He had been working within the company for the past 15 years. He started in filing and had climbed the corporate ladder to where he was now. With the good comes the bad and as his salary increased so did his notoriety. He made both powerful friends and powerful enemies and with that came a transparent lifestyle.

“Naturally you can count on our discretion”, said Lisa.

Jermaine still remained silent as he stood to leave the room. He took a final look at Lisa but any expression was covered by the light of the slowly setting sun which shrouded her features. She was no one, as Jermaine was soon to become.

Peter was on the street as he had been his whole life. Born under a bridge to a heroin addicted mother and no idea who his father was. He had chosen his own name when he old enough to understand what words were. No last name, just Peter. He had been alone his entire life, no friends other than his shadow and even that he thought tried to escape him at times. He knew who he was but nobody else did. To the world he was no one.

He shivered as he rubbed his hands together, his fingerless gloves useless against the cold. He listened to the birds singing whilst slowly watching the sun begin to set. He wrapped his arms around his knees and rocked gently on the wet pavement.

He was familiar with this spot now. He sat outside of a small corner shop just on the outskirts of the city. People would give him change as they left with their items. There was a bridge and a pub 30 seconds down the road so drunk people would also normally give him some money on their way home.

He tried to maintain a positive outlook on life but had recently found himself growing more and more cynical of people the longer he sat in the same spot. He was annoyed at their reluctance to acknowledge their entitlement to everything but utilising nothing. Despite his internal aggressions there was nowhere else he could go. Here he never ran into trouble, he had shelter, easy access to food and most importantly he was close to Nina.

As the night drew in he checked his empty coffee cup and saw he had enough to buy some food. Before getting up to enter the store he rest his head back on the way and looked up at the sky. It was full of dark clouds which in turn were full of rain that began to fall and drench the sidewalk.

Everything at Jermaine’s desk was already packed. 15 years compacted into a frail box. He received stares, nods and sympathetic smiles as he descended from the 5th floor to the exit.

The cold of the autumns evening hit Jermaine as he stepped outside onto the empty street and with the cold came the daunting realisation of what had just happened. With nowhere he could go and no one he could turn to in this uncertain time he hurried off the street, got behind the wheel of his car and screamed. It was the first noise he could remember making all day and he would not be surprised if it was his last.

Jermaine sat, overwhelmed by the uncertainty of his future. He searched internally for any form of plan and found nothing. He proceeded to take steeper steps into his already fragile mind and still there was nothing clear but one word.

It had been popping up in his subconscious in preparation of today but he had never considered it seriously. It had always presented itself as a quiet voice in the distance, right at the back of his mind. These past few days the voice had been getting louder and whoever it belonged to was getting closer and closer. Every word he had ever known seemed to have vanished, and he navigated his thoughts so he could find them once more but the more he wandered the more his heart sank and with every second the distant voice grew louder and louder. It’s origin now seemed so close he could feel it breathing down his neck. There was silence and breathing and the constant uttering of one word. Over and over and over.

Jermaine started the car giving into the voice. His journey unknown. His destination clear.

Peter felt the eyes of shoppers pass over him as he walked the aisles looking for a cheap meal. He found himself growing angrier at peoples obvious presumptions that were clear on their faces. They think I’m crazy. They think I’m an addict. Ignoring the wavering stares he continued to browse.

He grabbed a sandwich, crisps and a drink before heading to the till. Nina was working. She scanned his items with the usual smile brushed across her freckled face. Her long brown hair was tied back so every expression could be seen so much better and Peter was all the more grateful for it.

She wasn’t like everybody else. She worked behind the till in this small shop and her job was as expected. She scanned items and stacked shelves but she was grateful for every second. She never said it and nor did she have to. It was present in her voice, her smile and the way she whistled cheerfully when she wasn’t engaged in pleasant conversation. She was in love with the world and Peter was in love with her for it.

“Hey Pete!”, she said.

“Hi”.

Peter began to leave and as the automatic doors opened he heard her voice again.

“See you tomorrow!” He clung onto her words and took them with him as he stepped into the pouring rain.

Jermaine had stopped feeling the cold. His arms were numb and his face was frozen into an unchanging mournful expression. He could hear the noise of rushing water coming from below him but not much else. Even the voice in his head was absent now.

He felt momentary warmth thanks to the presence of a single tear that slowly trickled down his cheek. It caressed his face and as it ran towards his chin he realised it was the first thing he had felt in days. A life where his only relief from a constant melancholy was the momentary introduction of sorrow seemed trivial and his proposed actions were all the more justified.

With that tear came a deal more. They were indistinguishable from the rain and as he broke down people passed by and ignored him. He could see the orange sun through his tearful eyes and in the distance a storm of clouds which were sure to engulf it.

Peter’s usual space outside the shop had been taken. He wandered over the bridge that led to the pub and in doing so saw the man in the suit. Despite his close proximity he was as distant as ever. He looked out from the bridge and into the distance conveying no sign of emotion. There was no sorrow or joy, there was simply him. His face was wet from the falling rain and yet he made no effort to dry it. All that moved was his hands as they shivered, a loose grip on the metal railing.

“Are you okay sir?” Asked Peter. His approach cautious. He did not trust someone showing so little. He was hard to read as there was nothing to read. He was the ghost of a millionaire who was lost in the cold.

“Are you alright sir? Are you lost?”

“I…” began the man in the suit, his words trembling in the freezing cold, “I don’t know who I am anymore”.

No response and in a state on confusion Peter opened his crisps and offered him one. Instead of acknowledging the offer the man in the suit wept out loud and climbed onto the railing of the bridge.

The rain fell heavier and the clouds grew darker as they moved effortlessly through the sky. They swallowed the sun and the work fell dark. Jermaine looked for an opening in the clouds but there was none. All there was was the darkness, wind and rain.

The water ran quicker and current carried his hope across a stream of hours until there was nothing left but the dissolving fragments of who he once was. He glanced up one final moment in a final search for sunlight but still saw nothing.

The world fell silent and he prepared himself. Breathing in one final time and no intention of breathing out.

The weather was near enough torrential as Nina navigated her way through the streets. The trees looked the same as they had done years ago and she was overcome with nostalgia. She looked into the shop window of where she used to work and smiled.

With her umbrella close to folding in on itself she didn’t go inside and continued over the bridge to meet her friends. As she walked she saw a man stood there on his own, he was well dressed and sad, gazing into the distance with unfocused eyes. She recognised his face but could not pick where from. She did not click until she was next to him.

“Oh my word! Peter?” She asked excited.

There was no response and so she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder which brought him out of his trance. He looked at her and he had been crying. She could not separate his tears from the rain but the red in his eyes made it obvious.

“Nina?” He asked, unsure it was her.

“Yes! You look amazing! I love your suit!” She said, seeming more excited. Her reassuring hand remaining on his shoulder, “are you alright?”

“Yes, yes I’m fine sorry”, he wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve, “its just been a long day”.

“Well, I’m meeting some friends for a drink now but why don’t we meet up tomorrow? We can get a coffee and you can tell me about how you ended up in a fancy looking suit like that?”

A shallow smile fluttered across Peter’s face. His teeth were white and straight, clearly fake, yet the joy expressed in their appearance was genuine.

“I’d like that’, he said.

The two of them exchanged numbers and Nina went on her way. Peter stood on the bridge. Still smiling.

Peter reflected on his words to Nina. He was happy to see her and realised he hadn’t done so for 15 years. Right near this very spot.

He still remembered the man in the suit. The distance in his eyes and his voice and the blood he choked on following his jump. The river was more of a shallow canal that night and its current was not strong enough to move his body. Instead he remained, motionless, breathless. His tailor made suit ruined yet its contents in tact.

Peter had thought about getting help. About going back into the corner shop and asking Nina, or flagging down a car and calling an ambulance. He looked around but there was no one there. No one had seen the man jump or acknowledged him prior.

He remembers the events of that night like they were yesterday. He remembers the slippery descent into the canal and the warm feel of the mans corpse in the cold night. He remembers reaching into his deep pockets and recovering his wallet and house keys. He remembers opening the wallet and seeing the man was called Jermaine. He had his address, with no wedding ring on his finger and no photos of children in his wallet Peter left the body for somebody else to find.

He went to the house, took a bath, put on fresh pyjamas and slept in the dead mans bed. He was uneasy at first, ready for the moment someone would walk through the door, be it a partner or a friend but no one came and Peter slept.

He wore Jermaine’s clothes the next day. He sold his possessions and used the money to rent his own smaller flat. He rented the flat using Jermaine’s name and found himself changing every time he referred to himself as such. He got his own ID with Jermaine’s name and found work as a filing clerk in a large office. It was easy now he had an address. He said he had been travelling, hence his lack of employment history and when people asked where he gave vague answers.

15 years later he was here. Jobless once more and on the verge of doing what the real Jermaine had done previously. He would have done were it not for Nina. He remembered her and how she made him feel and that in turn helped him remember other things. He could have a bath once he got home and could sleep in his comfy bed. He was suddenly so overwhelmed with joy and understood this feeling would not be present were it not for the sorrow that pre-existed that very moment.

The other Jermaine had his chance, he was not going to waste his. He admired the flowers which grew on the river bank despite the absence of light. He agreed that should these flowers grow then so would he. Here was to the next 15 years and the understanding that there is no difference between the fingerless gloves he used to wear and the tailor made suits he does now. There is only the identity that accompanies them.

#amediting #amwriting #creative #creativity #sheffield #writer #homeless #working #bridge #rain

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theartscenter-blog · 4 years ago

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Meet the Muralist: JP Jermaine Powell

This Summer, The ArtsCenter embarked on an exciting new chapter in our 45-year history: our new Public Art initiative! Working with a panel of local artists, educators, and community leaders, we reviewed over 20 applications from mural artists and teams, eventually selecting artist JP Jermaine Powell to create the final design. The community engagement process of this project combined a public survey with a socially distanced community photoshoot where Carrboro residents could have their picture taken for inclusion in the design.

JP has been working hard on this mural on the side of Gray Squirrel Coffee in downtown Carrboro’s East Main Square for the last few months. Now that the project is finished, we sat down to ask him some questions about his work, his experience in Carrboro, and what he learned from the project.

What role can public art play in creating cohesion in a community?

JP: I think that the We Are Community mural is a great example of how there are individuals with so much history and so many stories to tell that share a common bond, a common location. The Carrboro community is like a tapestry or a living quilt full of beautiful experiences.

What did you observe or learn about Carrboro from the community outreach that you did this Fall?

JP: The people who live in Carrboro are very proud to live and work in Carrboro. There is a lot of love here also. There is a genuine respect and affection between people based on what I’ve seen doing the mural. That’s what changed around the halfway point in the mural. I really wanted to capture the love that people have for their friends and family.

Why do you think there is so much more public art in the area now during the COVID-19 pandemic?

JP: I’ve noticed that my eyes are windows to my soul. And what I see or don’t see can influence how you are and what you do both personally and professionally. Maybe you feel that way too? The pandemic has been been a time for growth and reflection for some. A woman told me that while I was painting the mural. She said, “The world seems slower now and I think people are returning to nature; the things that make the world so beautiful.” Public art is a way to communicate messages on a large scale. I think people now have just a little bit more time to see the world around them with less social distractions.

How do you contrast doing public art from the other types of art that make up your practice?

JP: Well, public art is about how the art, the artist and the public interact especially doing such a personal mural such as We Are Community. When I’m in the studio, I’m alone and thinking about how my audience will react to a painting or a sculpture. With public art projects, I get real-time feedback from the actual people who are directly affected by this new “thing” in their neighborhood. On a personal note, the many conversations, smiles and encouragement greatly added to the success of the the We Are Community mural. The Carrboro community gave me the will and energy to complete a 20 portrait, 21 figure wall.

What makes a piece of public art successful?

JP: I don’t know truly, to be honest. I mean, I have my personal goals as an artist to myself and my artist community. But also there are many stakeholders in the process and many opinions. Some artists talk about the horrible experiences of making a public project, but the results can be amazing. And in some projects, some public art sponsors might not be happy with the direction a project ended up, but the general public and artist are happy. I guess that’s why there are so many public art pieces popping up because each piece or project has a different story to be told. The process is just as important as the end result sometimes. I’ve made so many new friends and connections during this We Are Community mural project. This experience is priceless; I would never want to not remember all the people who helped make this mural what it is. Public art in ever changing communities is a never ending story with a variety of attempts. It’s just like an artist painting fifty canvases and maybe two are recognized as good or great. What about the other forty-eight?

What advice would you give to someone who wanted to get into painting murals or creating public art?

JP: I get these questions a lot. My main advice is:

Get to know yourself. Public art can be difficult as far as dealing with criticism and fast paced changes. You need to learn when you get tired, how many hours you can work in a day, dealing with creating in front of audience.

Get to know and genuinely like other people. Dealing with the community is also a part of the project, meaning that you need to enjoy being alone but also enjoy people. I literally lived in Carrboro for a month, absorbing the culture, learning the faces of twenty individuals by painting them!

Be flexible. Project changes can come fast. My challenge from the mural survey feedback was to integrate all the great things about Carrboro into one amazing image that for the most part, people can enjoy. I had to make changes on the fly sometimes so being flexible can be an asset. Also advice from others can make projects even greater. Marketing Director of The ArtsCenter Patrick Phelps-McKeown’s observations really helped with making all of the elements work in the mural during the design phase.

Have a message. Remember the art is public. Even if the message isn’t as clear to public as it is clear to artist or stakeholder, having a message helps justify the reason for the public art. If any objections or feedback is made, the meaning and intent of the project can help smooth things over

Stay in shape. Simply put, stay healthy. On this mural I was up on ladders and scaffolds. It’s a physical process to make murals. I also worked on this project in the wind, rain and snow. I worked in the early morning and at night so make sure your body and mind stay relatively as healthy as they can be.

For more information on JP, and to purchase his work, visit:

Art History In The Making. Art, Murals, and More at jermainepowell.com

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discreteluxuryff · 7 years ago

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TWENTY-SEVEN

Trey

It was a few days away from Thanksgiving and I was thinking of ways on how I would spend it. I knew I wanted to spend it with Skylar and the rest of my family, but would Charmaine let that happen? This would’ve been the perfect time for everybody else in my family to meet her and maybe even Vanessa. I know Vanessa may not fly out here, but I wanted to spend it with her as well. She always spent the holidays with me and my family and this break up between us shouldn’t stop it.

Every day without Vanessa was different, but it was something I was trying to get used to. Even when I didn’t want to think about it, Jermaine made sure he reminded me of what I had lost. He was good at rubbing that in my face and honestly I needed that. I lost a good woman, but I didn’t deserve her. Every day I’m paying for it and it’s nothing I can really do about it. Day one hundred and forty-three, that’s how many days it’s been.

“You good? You look all sad and shit.” Jermaine and Maya walked in and of course, they popped up.

“Yeah, I’m good. What y’all want and when did you get back Maine?“

“Well, I’m here because I need to talk to you about having a raise, can’t speak for Jermaine.” I sighed. Maya needed a raise every six damn months.

“I flew in last night. I stayed a few days later because I had to visit somebody else out there.”

“Visit who?” The only reason Jermaine ever flew out to New York was for his sister, or if I had business out there.

“Vashtie. That’s who.” Maya started laughing, but I gave him a look. I always knew he liked her.

When it came to Jermaine liking someone, he was always secretive about it. He could be with someone and I would never know because his excuse was “why would I tell who I’m dealin’ with if I know it’s not goin’ further than sex.”. Yes, it made sense, but he could’ve said something about Vashtie. I don’t know why he wanted that to be a secret.

“Damn, Maya. I can’t tell you shit, but that’s why I’m out here.”

“I keep forgettin’ she lives out there. I hope you don’t plan on flyin’ her out here for thanksgivin’. Or did y’all forget about thanksgivin’ bein’ here this year? “

“Well, I forgot. I’m supposed to be going to Atlanta to visit my family.” Maya said.

“Nigga I didn’t forget and why can’t she come? I already told her and she agreed to come out here and be nice to you.” He said chuckling. Wasn’t shit nice about Vashtie.

“Nice? Yeah, we’ll see.”

“And she might get Nessa to fly out here with her, but that’s a strong might.” Hearing that, I was almost excited. If Vashtie could get her to come, I would be happy. Even my mother would be happy, but knowing Vanessa she won’t.

I was actually looking forward to this, but I needed to make sure Charmaine would bring Skylar. I already know Charmaine was going to bitch about taking Skylar around her family, but I couldn’t miss this with her. Plus, that would make Skylar happy. I just hope if Vanessa comes, everything will go smooth. It would be awkward having Charmaine and Vanessa in the same room, though. I know Vanessa may be past all of that, but I know for a fact she would feel away. That’s my fault, though. Hopefully, everything goes well thanksgiving.

“Well if she does come, I need to make sure Charmaine drops Skylar off first. I don’t know how Nessa would react to her being there.”

“She probably won’t. She’s kind of over you, Trey. I mean you drove her to be over you and the things you do.”

“Maya, mind your business. While you’re here, you can run some errands for me.”

“Oh no, can’t. I have a hair appointment in an hour. So I’ll be getting out of here.” She said getting up.

“What? You’re supposed to be helpin’ me.”

“I know, but I need me time. I’ll see y’all later, just text me if you need anything.” Just like that, she left. If Maya didn’t know almost everything about me and how I operate, I probably would’ve fired her a long time ago.

***

Thanksgiving Day.....

It felt good being around my family. I haven’t seen them in so long because of all my personal shit that’s been going on. We decided to switch it up this year because normally we did holidays back home. So I️ decided to fly most of my family out here and honestly my mother was happy about it. She was getting ready to meet her Skylar and I️ knew how much she wanted another grandchild. The only thing that was making me nervous was my mom bringing up Vanessa. My brother told her Vanessa was pregnant and I️ already know she’s going to get me about that.

“So is my granddaughter coming?” my mother asked me

Yeah. I just talked to Charmaine and she’s bringing her over.”

"Mhmm. Vanessa? Or did you scare her away again?"

"No. She's back in New York. I didn't scare her off, we agreed to be apart."

"Well, I hope she and my soon to be grandchild are okay." I sighed. I knew this was coming.

I felt bad that I didn't mention Vanessa's pregnancy to my mother. I just didn't feel like hearing the "I told you so's" because I knew it was coming. I just wanted to have a nice Thanksgiving without all the Vanessa questions. Most importantly I didn't want to hear all the Charmaine and Skylar questions either. That situation is self explanatory and everyone should mind their business about that.

As the day kept passing by, everybody seemed to be happy and that's when I heard the doorbell ring. I was praying it was Charmaine so she could hurry up and drop Skylar off and avoid my mother. I already know my mother was going to give Charmaine the side eye and I didn't have time for that.

" Hi, Jermaine! I feel like I haven't seen you in forever." shit. My mother answered the door before I could. I just hope he only brought Vashtie.

"whats up ma? How have you been? You remember Vashtie, Vanessa's friend right?"

"I sure do. How are you?" after that, it felt like everything was going mute. I saw Vanessa's face as soon as Vashtie moved out of the way and that's when my mother started smiling and hugging her.

I didn't know how to react to Vanessa being here. Everything about this was about to be awkward as hell. I already know Jermaine, my mother and brother weren't going to make this situation even better. I just hope they don't make Vanessa uncomfortable to the point where she would want to leave.

"Hi, is Trey here?" Oh shit. This day couldn't get any worse.

Vanessa

Being at Trey's home was already a lot and then to see this woman with a little girl walking up behind us made the vibe weird. I already knew that she was the mother of Trey's daughter, but I didn't want to show any expressions on my face. His daughter was damn near his twin. I'm not sure if this is something he planned, but I didn't want to let everybody see how uncomfortable I became. This wasn't about me, though. I only came because Vashtie and Jermaine thought it was a good idea. They both felt that me showing up would really show some type of “growth”. I just didn’t want things to be so awkward and I could tell by glancing over at Trey, things were already funny. The look on his face when the both of them showed up said it all. I just wanted to dismiss myself all together.

“Hello, yes he -“

“What’s up Charmaine?”

“Hey, I just wanted to drop Skylar off. Hope we’re not interrupting anything.”

“No, everything is good. Charmaine this is my mother, that’s Jermaine, Vashtie, and Vanessa. Everybody this Charmaine, Skylar's mother.” I didn’t speak to her. I just looked away and walked towards the kitchen. I know it was rude, but I couldn’t look at this woman without feeling some type of way.

Taking a breather in Trey’s kitchen, Vashtie and Jermaine walked in. They could tell something was wrong, but of course, I pretended nothing was bothering me. I didn’t want to upset myself, so that’s why I just walked away and plus I don’t need all the extra stress. I just need to breathe and ignore all of that because it doesn’t even matter. What’s done is done and I can’t do anything about it.

“You alright?” Vashtie asked me.

“I guess. Jermaine, I’m assuming that’s her?”

“Yeah, that’s Skylar’s mother. Don’t sweat it though. Trey already feels bad about that whole situation.”

“Yeah, but it’s hard knowing that she’s the one who had his child before I could. I just didn’t want to show any expressions that could make things go left.”

“Girl, don’t let that bother you. You’re not here for that. You really came to show you two could coexist and plus you said you wanted to see his mom, right?”

“I did say that, Vashtie. I just didn’t think things would be like this.” Even though I moved on and finally forgave Trey, it still hurt.

Yes, I moved on, but to see her and his daughter was just a mother level of hurt. I didn’t expect to feel like this, but It felt like a hole burned in my chest. I knew this day would come, but it was too soon. I just hope I can get over this and worry about my own daughter once she gets here.

Watching Trey walk into the kitchen abruptly, I could see the nervousness on his face. The tension in the air became thick and Jermaine and Vashitie seemed to be uncomfortable. I think could sense something, but to be honest I wasn’t going to get mad or yell. I didn’t care to do that anymore.

“Can y’all excuse me and Vanessa for a minute?” Trey asked Jermaine and Vashtie. Without hesitation, the both of them walked out. “Nessa.”

“Trey.”

“I hope you aren’t uncomfortable. I didn’t expect you to actually come and I didn’t think Charmaine would come in right behind y’all.”

“Why are you explaining yourself? I don’t care, Trey. You have a daughter and I expected her to be here with her mother. The only thing I felt uncomfortable about was actually facing the woman that you put in a bad position. Honestly, this will not upset me.”

“What don’t you care about?” He asked raising his brow.

“Us. The back and forth. The feelings, I don’t care about it anymore. I’m over it, Trey. I just want us to be good parents to our daughter.”

“Then why are you here, since you don’t care.”

“I only came to see your mother and to show you that I’m actually grown enough to be around you. I can leave, though. I don’t have to be here. I actually have someone’s house I can go to.”

“Well do what you have to do.” He walked out with an attitude and honestly I didn’t care. I didn’t even feel sad about it. This just lets me know that he still hasn’t let go and feels a way about me actually letting go of him. I just hope he can kill this childish ass behavior of his.

#trey songz ff #yarissanchez fanfic

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scornedlove · 7 years ago

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Chapter Five

CHRIS

The visit to Virginia was exactly what I needed. My mind was clearer and although the pain was still there, it wasn’t drowning me anymore. I even felt bad for dismissing Kate the way I had and decided to give her a call. Shockingly enough, she didn’t answer. After a week with no answer I decided to stop by her place, and no one was there.

“Have you talked to Kate recently?” I asked Tina when I walked into work the next morning.

“No, I’ve been minding my business these days” she replied shortly just as the phone rang. She seemed to be taking her time as she took notes but quickly finished when she realized I wasn’t going away that easy.

“I’m sorry” I stated when she hung up the phone. “I wasn’t trying to be rude that day. I have a lot going on in my personal life these days...I just want it to stay personal”

“I’m sorry for crossing the line. I’ve been making it a point to keep a boundary between business and personal, so I haven’t been socializing with Kate lately” she replied in a softer tone. I nodded and left it at that.

Over the past two weeks, I had done all I could to find her with no luck. It was like she’d vanished off the earth. That’s why when Mr. Williams called saying he had some information for me, I dropped everything to meet with him asap. We were meeting at Starbucks and as usual, he was right on time. I was sitting in the back, furthest from the window and he spotted me as soon as he walked in. He sat directly across from me, placing a manila envelope on the table and sliding it in front of me. As I flipped through the pictures, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was a very un-pregnant Kate going to a yoga class, having lunch with a friend-I assume, and finally going home to a condo in Westwood, where he got pictures of her kissing some guy I’d never seen before.

“Where the fuck is my daughter and where did this random motherfucker come from?” I fumed. None of this shit was making sense to me.

“I don’t know, you asked me to find Kate, and I did. Now how about that fee?” he asked, standing to leave. I pulled my wallet out, peeled out four hundred-dollar bills, and handed them to him.

“Let me know when you have more work for me” he called over his shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

The next day, I found myself sitting in front of her condo, waiting on someone to come out. Just when I was about to leave, a Mercedes jeep pulled in. The windows were tinted so I couldn’t tell who was driving until she stepped out the car.

She had her tiny frame back already and you couldn’t even tell she was as big as a whale a couple of weeks ago. I wanted to jump out immediately and go off on her, but I waited as she opened the door to the back seat and pulled out what I was really waiting for: a car seat.

“What the fuck is going on?” I yelled out, as I quickly jogged across the street. I was right in front of her in seconds.

“Chris?” she asked, jumping back in fear. “I..uh..what are you doing here?” she stammered.

“What are you doing here? Is this where you stay now?” I asked, tossing questions left and right.

“That’s none of your business!” she retorted, slamming the car door.

“You know what, I don’t even care about none of that shit, but I do care about my daughter. Why didn’t you call me when you had her?” I yelled out in anger.

“You know what, I don’t have time for this!” she screamed back as she tried to take off towards her porch. Her yelling triggered something in me, and before I could stop myself, I reached out for the car seat, snatching the blanket off the top.

Immediately we both stopped fighting and she scrambled to grab the baby’s blanket off the ground. I was lost for words as I stared at the baby girl sleeping peacefully with a pacifier in her mouth. She was beautiful with her chubby cheeks and head full of wavy hair. I couldn’t help but notice how dark her skin was, and her ears were even darker.

My hands began to get clammy and nausea crept upon me as I asked the one question all mothers dreaded to hear.

“Is she mine?” I croaked out. Every feeling imaginable went through me as I stood there, waiting for her answer. Instead she threw the blanket over the car seat and rushed to her front door. She jiggled with the keys while I just stood there like a statue. Everything I been through was for nothing. Everything I had put Robyn through was for nothing.

When I could finally wrap my head around it, she was already inside. I ran to the door and beat on it repeatedly until it finally opened. Instead of Kate, I was face to face with the man from the pictures.

“Get the fuck off my property” he yelled in my face. I could’ve punched him in the face, beat his ass, and then dragged Kate out by her hair for putting me through the worst year of my life, but as I looked him in the eyes, I saw that little girl. She was his spitting image. So, instead of catching a case, I nodded and began to count my blessings as I walked back to my car.

ROBYN

Imma miss you mama” I sighed. We were finally sending her home, so I was hugging her as tight as my fragile ribs would let me.

“Take care of yourself Robyn. I don’t wanna get back on de plane, but you know I will.” she ordered.

“I’ll do my best” I replied finally releasing her from my hold.

“Alright, let’s get out of here before were late” Mel ordered. She was taking me to my doctor appointment.

After a long wait in the office, just to find out everything was good, and I was healing just fine, Mel was running behind for a meeting with Michael so she wanted me to tag along. She ended up being about thirty minutes late and I couldn't stop apologizing. She said it was fine, but I couldn’t help but notice the frown on her boss face when we arrived.

“He’s always having me wait on him, he’ll be aight “ she shrugged as we neared his office. The gallery was nice, elegant, and modern. It was about twice the size of Chris’ first gallery, but only included photography.

While Mel was meeting with her boss, I took a tour and talked myself out of buying at least 3 different pieces. I had doctor bills out of the ass right now, no vehicle, and no clue on how long it would take me to get financially caught up. My insurance paid most of my medical bills, but I was still about 8 grand in debt. At this moment, every dollar counts.

As I was walking back towards the entrance, so was Melanie and her boss. He seemed to be in a better mood now as they stood there laughing and talking.

“Hey Rob, this is my boss Michael; this is my sister Robyn” Melanie smiled as we shook hands.

“Wow, you are both very beautiful women. They know how to make them in Barbados” he winked, and I couldn’t help but notice Mel’s black ass blushing. I couldn’t blame her though; the man was fine. He was a caramel brown with beautiful blue eyes, short curly hair, and a perfect smile.

“Thank you” we both replied in unison.

“Have you ever been?” I asked, and he shook his head no.

“But I’d love to. I may just have to make that my next vacation” he smiled. “I’ll let you ladies take off, I’m sure you have some hearts to break” he winked. I glanced at Mel and she was still cheesing as he walked off.

“Stop grinning so damn hard, that man had a ring on his finger you slut” I stated, and she playfully punched my arm.

“That don’t mean I can’t have a little eye candy.” she smirked licking her lips.

“Alright, Jermaine gon poke dem eyes out” I joked, and she fell into laughter.

When she’d finally dropped me back off, I was surprised to see detective Hawks.

“Hi Ms. Fenty, I’ve been leaving you messages but haven’t gotten a call back, so I decided to stop by. Do you have a moment?”

“Yes, of course” I replied as I led him upstairs.

“You might want to have a seat, this is going to be a lot to take in” he suggested. I did as I was told, and he proceeded to tell me he found the person who hit me. It turned out to be an 81-year-old lady who was suffering from the early stages of Alzheimer’s disease. She was living alone and didn’t even remember the incident. The only reason it was reported is because her daughter was visiting, noticed the car’s damages, and decided to report it.

“I’m not suggesting you should drop the charges against this woman, but as soon as her daughter learned what happened, she took her mom’s license and had her admitted to an assisted living facility. She also wanted me to give you this to read over.” He stated passing me an envelope.

The envelope contained a detailed apology letter from the family, a check for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and a confidentiality agreement. None of it was making sense until I noticed the name on the check. Christy Cartwright; the owner of one of the largest casinos in California. My mouth fell open in shock.

“Like I said before, I know this is a lot to take in. The only reason I’m even delivering this information is because I’m a good friend of the family and I know this woman didn’t mean any harm. I’m going to give you some time to process all of this information, just let me know what you decide” he added.

I nodded, still unable to speak. After he left I couldn’t think about anything else; it was driving me crazy. I needed a drink. As a matter of fact, I needed a blunt. So, I called Rayven. She stopped by about an hour later with what I asked for, but couldn’t stay because she was shooting the music video tonight and still had to get ready. I smoked two blunts to myself and passed out afterwards.

I woke up the next morning with it still on my mind, so I decided to talk to mama and Mel about it. They both pretty much said the same thing: I needed the money, so I should take it, but not if it didn’t feel right.

I thought about it heavily for a few days. I didn’t feel like any amount of money was worth my child or the heartache I’d been through, but I also thought about the medical bills, debt I had accrued, and other things I could do with the money. It was too much to think about, so I pushed it to the back of my desk and my mind.

Monday morning, I had made my decision. I was going to drop the charges on the old woman since her family was sincere enough to take her off the road and get her the help she needed. Besides, the disease itself is a life sentence anyway; nothing’s worse than that. I called detective Hawks and let him know my decision and he let me know he would close the case.

A few days later, I had just finished opening up shop when a woman appeared through the glass window.

“Good Morning” I greeted as she slowly walked towards the counter.

“I’m looking for Robyn Fenty” she stated impatiently. She seemed nervous as she played with her fingers.

“What’s your concern with her?” I quizzed. I’d never seen her before, I always remember faces.

“My name is Belle Carter. I really need to speak with her” she pleaded with her icy grey eyes.

“Nice to meet you. What can I do for you?” I asked just as Jenn appeared around the corner with inventory to stock.

“I won’t take up much of your time” she began as she pulled a white envelope out of her purse. “First of all, words cannot express how sorry my family is for the tragedy you’ve been through. Detective Hawks told me you turned down the settlement I offered you for your pain and suffering. That was very noble of you-”

“That’s because my unborn child cannot be bought.” I interrupted matter-of-factly.

“By all means...I’ve had several miscarriages. I completely understand” She quickly added.

“I know you think it’s the same, but it’s not. Now, what can I do for you?” I asked again, this time crossing my arms in annoyance.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to offend you in any way, but I know there isn’t anything I can do to bring your child back. I’ve done all that I could to make sure this nightmare doesn’t happen to anyone else, but I want you to accept this” she pleaded, sliding the envelope over to me.

My eyes moved from hers to the envelope, I already knew what was in there.

“Just think of it as a blessing in disguise. I won’t leave here until you accept it” she declared, now crossing her arms. “Now are you going to make me go through the trouble of buying up this store? Because I will”

We stared at each other for a moment until I reached down and picked it up.

“Thanks for doing this the uncomplicated way. You’ve been through a lot and you really deserve a break; hopefully this will help” she smiled softly and gave my shoulder a squeeze before turning to leave.

“Who was that?” Jenn asked when she was finally gone. Only I couldn’t answer, I was too busy staring at a check written out to me for $500,000.

#robyn rihanna fenty #chris brown #ff #fanfiction #fanfic #scorned #rihanna

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kevincadletrophy-blog · 7 years ago

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The Kevin Cadle Trophy 2017 - Week 2 Recap

On Sunday evening the dreams of an entire sporting nation died as rookie kicker Younghoe Koo missed two field goals (including the game winner) against the Miami Dolphins. The South Korean diaspora of the United States have been waiting for a Korean born NFL star since 1986 and Koo’s place in the league is already in jeopardy after going 1 for 4 in his first two games, ultimately condemning the Chargers to their 0-2 record.

Why do NFL games have to be decided this way? A game which requires incredible fitness and durability, aerobic endurance, speed, quickness, strength, power and amazing hand eye co-ordination relying on the boot of predominately fat old men to decide who wins. It makes very little sense to me. In fantasy the kicker position is even more absurd. We spend so much time researching the draft and in season waiver wire adds to find the most consistent players but we’re completely comfortable with the fact that Cody Parkey can score 15 fantasy points and win the week for your team. I am using this platform to beg you all. Please can we lose the kicker position forever from 2018 onwards and add another WR slot?

Regards, Greg

From the misery of 2 million to the misery of 0-2. Here comes the recap.

It was a bad week to have a top tight end (unless it was Travis Kelce). Gronk, Jimmy Graham, Greg Olsen, Tyler Eifert and Jordan Reed all suffered varying degrees of injury this weekend. The tight end position is truly a dumpster fire.

Three teams went to 2-0 this week and three slipped to 0-2. It’s only week 2 but already it feels like next week has some must win games.

Week 2 Trends, Stats & Milestones

Uncle Sam’s Family Feedbag move to 2-0 for the first time since 2012.

GCT opens up their campaign 0-2 for the first time since joining the league in 2013

Kent Exiles has the highest score in both week 1 (116.72) and week 2 (111.02).

Cyborg Justice’s close victory over the Cleveland Clowns marked the 40th regular season victory for the ball club (1 of 4 franchises to reach that milestone; CWP: 44, LYNN: 43, FBAG: 41)

The average score in week 2 was 88.56 points..

If we ever needed a reminder of why waiting on QB is smart. Let’s take a look at the top 3 QBs through 2 weeks:

Just as we all predicted. Alex Smith, Trevor Siemian and Carson Wentz.

Week 2 in Quotes

“Managed to get Hooper but dropped him already, tough matchup” “Solid waivering George” George & Danny

“Two words. Jack. Doyle” Mark

“Tommy to Rob. Hard.” Lloyd

“Reed is 100% reliable every week. Anyone want to trade for him?” Sam

“The only people staying up to watch that are Neil Reynolds and George” Aaron

“Allen. Who the Buck is Allen?” Lloyd

“Why did I reach for Crowell?” Dan

“Nsbshsvbsjsndd. End” Greg

“Fuck Sam. And you too. And fuck Azza” Danny

“#thewitchinghour” Sam

“Why is overtime now 10 minutes?” “New rule” “Glad you cleared that up George. Very informative” Sam, George & Aaron

“Now I’ve been forced to settle down with a baby my fantasy team has improved” Sam

“Unfortunately, the league has to be deleted. Goodbye cruel world” Dave

“Finally a Monday where I wake up happy. Gurley is a beast” Gary

“This is what you did to me, Georgie” Luke

Week 2 Standings (Record/True)

Week 2 Fantasy Fiascos

Jaguars D/ST -1.00 Points (37 Points Allowed, 1 Sack, 1 Int) (GCT) Jordy Nelson 0.00 Points (Injury) (CWP) Jordan Howard 0.70 Points (7 Rushing Yards) (CYB) Bilal Powell 1.30 Points (13 Rushing Yards) (FBAG) Larry Fitzgerald 2.10 Points (21 Receiving Yards) (CLE) Ezekiel Elliott 2.20 Points (8 Rushing Yards, 14 Receiving Yards) (MAVS) Demarco Murray 2.80 Points (25 Rushing Yards, 3 Receiving Yards) (GCT)

Week 2 Fantasy Phenoms

Michael Crabtree 26.00 Points (80 Receiving Yards, 3 TDs) (COOL) Todd Gurley 23.60 Points (88 Rushing Yards, TD, 48 Receiving Yards, TD, 1 Fumble) (FAIL) Ty Montgomery 23.00 Points (35 Rushing Yards, TD, 75 Receiving Yards, TD) (KEX) Kareem Hunt 22.90 Points (81 Rushing Yards, 28 Receiving Yards, 2TD) (FBAG) Devonta Freeman 22.00 Points (84 Rushing Yards, 2 TD, 16 Receiving Yards) (KEX) JJ Nelson 18.00 Points (120 Receiving Yards, TD) (FAIL) Travis Kelce 16.30 Points (103 Receiving Yards, TD) (CYB)

Carson Wentz 24.82 Points (333 Passing Yards, 2TDs, 1 INT, 55 Rushing Yards) (FA) Chris Thompson 22.60 Points (77 Rushing Yards, 2TDs, 29 Receiving Yards) (FA) Buccaneers D/ST 19.00 Points (7 Points Allowed, 1 Sack, 2 INT, 2 Fum Rec, TD) (FA) Jermaine Kearse 18.40 Points (64 Receiving Yards, 2TDs) (FA) Jason Witten 15.70 Points (97 Receiving Yards, TD) (FA)

The Kevin Cadle Trophy 2017 - Week 3 Preview

Matchups

Cyborg Justice (2-0) @ Kent Exiles (2-0) H2H Record: CYB 6-4 KEX

Someone’s O has got to go. This top of the table clash will be the 11th matchup between the two franchises. Historically this game is a blowout one way or the other with the average margin of victory being 28.50 points, most notably in the 2016 Semi Finals when the Justice knocked out the former Brighton Tsunami Colts 105.46-65.54.

Cliffe Woods Packers (1-1) @ Uncle Sam’s Family Feedbag (2-0) H2H Record: FBAG 6 – 3 CWP

A rematch of the inaugural Fantasy Super Bowl and one of the leagues fiercest rivalries. A matchup historically dominated by Uncle Sam’s Feedbag. When these two teams met in week 3 of the 2014 season they played out one of the most controversial games the league has ever seen. It is now infamously known as the “Phantom Sack Game”. At the end of regulation the game finished Cliffe Woods Packers 88.82 – 89.00 Uncle Sam’s Family Feedbag, a heartbreaking loss and the 5th closest win in league history. However due to a stat correction the Bills magically added an addition sack overnight in one of the most vulgar displays of power since the Lewinsky scandal, handing the Feedbag a soul destroying 0.82 point loss. This could get ugly.

Wadstar Wildebeests (1-1) @ Rochester Jeffersons (0-2) H2H Record: WILD 2 – 0 JEFF

Rochester Jeffersons are off to their worst start in franchise history. Luckily for them they go up against a curse ridden Wadstar Wildebeests who have not only lost the number 1 pick in the draft to injury but have also never won a match in week 3.

The Fail Marys (1-1) @ Coolhand (1-1) H2H Record: FAIL 4-1 COOL

The Fail Marys historically have the edge in this matchup and this week’s schedule looks brutal for Coolhand. Almost the entire roster is on the road while Tyrod Taylor and Zay Jones get a home matchup against buzz saw Broncos defence.

GCT (0-2) @ Cecil Martin’s Mavericks (1-1) H2H Record: GCT 6-3 MAVS

GCT find themselves in unfamiliar territory this week after starting the season 0-2. Injuries to Murray, Gronkowski, Kelley and Coleman must be a worry for owner Lloyd. Cecil Martin’s Mavericks owner Matt may have one eye on revenge from the 2015 fantasy Super Bowl loss to GCT. He will be hoping for more out of first round pick and week 2 fantasy fiasco member Ezekiel Elliott.

The Lynn Swann Crybabies (1-1) @ Cleveland Clowns (0-2) H2H Record: LYNN 4-1 CLE

Game of the week potential here. Fireworks are certain. These two franchises have hated each other since day 1. Cleveland Clowns season is on the line and The Lynn Swann Crybabies want nothing more than to deal the killing blow. The first 4 games went to The Crybabies including a playoff win on the way to a championship ring in 2014. The last meeting was a win for the Cleveland Clowns in week 13 last season. Crowell draws a potentially big day against the putrid Indianapolis Colts while LYNNs Ryan/Jones stack travel to Detroit to face a so far stingy defence. The winner of this match is sure to be top of the world and it could all come down to a Tuesday morning nightmare as Dan Bailey and Larry Fitzgerald play in the final game of the week.

One final note. Don’t forget there is a London game this week. Adjust your teams accordingly.

May all your tibias shatter, Cyborg Justice

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eyez-ff-blog · 8 years ago

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○○ eyez | outtake seven

Prompt: High school headcanon

**NOTE**: Read this with the knowledge that in this AU both J and B were born in 1985, for obvious reasons. Age gapes are only alright when everyone is of age! Anyway—

September 1999 – Fayetteville, North Carolina

I crossed one leg over the other as I waited on the curb in front of my home, yawning slightly as I ran a hand through my thickened curls. I watched as the people who lived on my street conversed and talked about the year to come. We had been in school for an entire week, and people were already in the swing of things. Talks of homecoming in October were already in the works, and plans were being made even for the football game that would come about in a couple of days. I couldn’t get excited because once you’ve seen one football game, you’ve seen all of them for the most part. While my brothers and father were big sports fans for all sports, I only really enjoyed basketball season. That’s what I was more than ready for at this point, because at least I could be entertained aside from while I sat on the sidelines doing cheers and routines during halftime.

I had to find small pleasures within my life, because right now I wasn’t really feeling anything at all.

I moved to Fayetteville not too long ago—maybe about a year or so. I’ve been attending Sanford High and was now officially in my Sophomore year, and so far I haven’t been enjoying myself at all. I knew that the move to North Carolina wasn’t going to be easy but I didn’t think I’d be this miserable. Not only was I going to a school full of preppy white kids with whom I couldn’t relate, but I was really just...lost, without Rashaad. I didn’t care what my parents tried to convince me. They were running from his death. They couldn’t stand being back in Houston after he was murdered by the same people my father called comrades at one point. So they sold the house, dad quit his job, and all of a sudden the three grade school aged kids they had left were being uprooted from the place they called home.

I missed roaming through the halls of my old high school, and seeing the faces of people who looked like me. Even some of the other black kids here seemed so out of touch. There was another school in the small city—Smith—but my mom refused to even thinking about sending me and Kieran there. Alonzo was already going to college in Los Angeles, so he was spared from all of this. Marquis was still in 8th grade, and Kieran was finally starting his Senior year. In the flurry of my parents fawning over their children ending critical chapters of their grade school careers, I was alone...quietly suffering as I stood in the background.

Everyday was the same old thing—school, cheer practice, home. I worked hard all of freshman year to make the varsity team, and once I made it my summer was filled with sleepaway camps and orientation meetings. None of my time or my life seemed to belong to me. I honestly hated it, but I didn’t complain. I wouldn’t let anyone see that I was hurting. Shaad’s loss had hit me harer than anyone else, it seemed. Dad was throwing himself into his new business with the restaurant, mom was smothering Kieran and Marquis, and they were distancing themselves from me because I was ‘such a downer.’ But whatever—if I could just endure this school year, I’d have two more to go. Then one. Then I could leave and go back to Houston. I’d go to Prarie View like I had planned, then move on to the career I want. I’d do it because Shaad would have wanted me to.

My head raised when I heard the bus approach, and I stared at it before I got into line to get onto it. My bracelet littered right hand tightened around the strap of my dark blue backpack, already feeling weary of the books that littered the inside. I stepped onto the bus and I sucked my teeth when I saw that most of the seats were full. I’d have to share a seat with someone today and I wasn’t in the mood for it.

I strolled down the aisle before my eyes glazed over the bodies that had yet to have a partner sitting next to them. Most of them were white guys and I felt immediately uncomfortable—if they weren’t skinheads they were ‘Nubian Queen’ loving motherfuckers, and I didn’t mind knocking the shit out of any of them. I just picked the seat next to some kid who seemed to be too preoccupied in his headphones to even fuck with me. The less he said to me, the better.

I sat down once I shrugged my backpack off, right when I felt the pull of the bus moving forward. I yawned softly as I placed my hand over my mouth, glancing downward at my teal colored nails before I sat back, hearing the bump of the music from the boy’s headphones. At first I was annoyed at the fact that he had his music so loud, but then my ears picked up on some familiar cadences in the production. I knew those sounds well, and it sounded like nothing these other kids would ever be listening to. Something inside of me had to find out for myself, though. I raised an eyebrow before I gently tapped his shoulder.

He glanced over at me, and I took note of his face—I had seen him around a couple of times but I had never really taken the time to ever speak. I wasn’t interested in talking to anyone, really. But up close, he definitely had some interesting features. His eyebrows were wild and bushy, and his head was probably bigger than mine. But from the edge-up he had on his head, he definitely wasn’t...white. “My music too loud?” He assumed that’s what I was tapping him for.

I decided to just ask my question instead of answering his: “Is that the I Am album?” I asked, and his eyes seemed to light up at the realization of what I was saying.

“Yeah. It’s my shit right now,” He chuckled softly. “You like Nas?” He asked.

“He’s cool. I like him, but I’d like to say I’m a southern rap kind of girl. Been stuck on my Aquemini tip,” I replied, and he let out a soft laugh.

“I hear it all in your voice; you must be from the south. Texas? What part?” My eyebrows raised slightly. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I should have been impressed or offended that he could pick up on my accent so quickly. Most kids around here liked to think that I was a ‘country bumpkin’ because of how I sounded.

“Houston,” I replied simply before I tucked some curls behind my ear. “How’d you know that?”

“My father stays down in Dallas so I guess I’m used to hearing it,” He explained. “I’m Jermaine by the way,” He held out his hand to shake.

“Beija...nice to meet you,” I took his hand, and we shook briefly before I took my hand away. He had soft hands, which I didn’t expect either. Suddenly, the bus stopped again and I glanced up to see that we had arrived at school. “Oh...great,” I mumbled to myself.

“I know,” He agreed before he gave me a closed smile. It was almost like he wanted to give a genuine smile, but was holding back for whatever reason. I just smiled back before I stood up, grabbing my bag before I filed off of the bus, losing him quickly in the sea of kids. I walked inside of the building and I tried to shake off my anxiety.

Attention students: any schedule changes need to be done today in the Registrar’s Office. I repeat, this is the last day for schedule changes, I heard the school’s secretary over the intercom as I got into line to get some breakfast. I had already changed by schedule around to fit my needs; I had a brand new Algebra 2 teacher but aside from that, my schedule was just how I needed it to be. After grabbing a sausage biscuit and hash brown patty, I got myself some chocolate milk before I found a table to sit at alone.

“Hey B,” I glanced up to see Kieran approaching my table, and I nodded as he sat down in front of me. He adjusted his black rectangular-framed lenses once he sat down his breakfast taco and orange juice carton on the wooden table top, and took a seat across from me. “Everything okay?”

“Mhm.”

“You need extra lunch money?”

“Nope.”

He sighed softly as he stared at me, and I glanced back up at him with curious eyes. Kieran tried every so often to fill the big brother role that he was supposed to, but he and I both knew that there was a wedge between us. He wasn’t Shaad, he could never be Shaad. And as much as he tried, he just couldn’t make me suddenly become this ball of sunshine. I just wished he wouldn’t try to force himself or his ideal situation for us upon me. I’d probably be less agitated with him if he did.

“Well...okay. I’ll see you when you get home from practice,” He said softy, and I nodded before one of his female friends walked over to retrieve him. She sent me a smile, but I knew it was fake. I just stared at her as he grabbed his things to leave, and I could hear her ask why I was ‘so weird’ to my brother as they passed. Bitch.

I quickly ate my breakfast and made my way to my first period English class. It was nowhere near time to go to class, but my teacher was always in the classroom early and she always allowed me to come in and have time to myself. It was the simple things that kept me from becoming a school shooter statistic.

After getting through English and enduring Biology, it was time to go to my new Algebra class. I heard this teacher was probably the best in the school, so I was fine with that—I was just hoping that my classmates could be bearable. Once I traded my books and supplies in my locker, I hurried to the class and entered just before the bell rang.

“Good morning,” The teacher greeted, and I nodded slowly. “You’re Baja, right?” He asked, and I tried not to frown.

“Beija,” I corrected.

“Yes, my apologies. Take a seat wherever yu like,” He adjusted his full-moon frames, and I looked over the class before I saw a familiar face. My eyes lit up a bit before I sauntered to the back of the class, sitting down in the available seat.

“Hey,” I said softly, and Jermaine shot me a small smile, still trying to hide what I assumed were probably crooked teeth. I honestly didn’t care otherwise, but clearly he did.

“What’s up? You got moved in this class?” He asked, and I nodded briefly. “Cool—now I have somebody I ‘know,’” He seemed happy to see me...I was confused about it.

“Ha...well maybe you can help me with this math stuff. I suck,” I said.

“No problem, I got you,” He insisted, and I smiled a bit as I opened my notebook.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. This guy wasn’t too bad...we’ll see how long it lasts, though.

It had been a whole month of seeing Jermaine at least twice a day—once in Algebra, and again at lunch. He had started to come and eat with me since we found out we had the same lunch slot, and he even offered to walk me to my classes since our rooms were usually always in close proximity to one another. He was a nice guy, and so far hadn’t proven to be a dick. He had a dry and almost corny sense of humor, but I liked it for some reason...it matched my dry and sometimes crude sarcasm. He loved basketball like I did, and he actually had made the junior varsity team for the upcoming school season. If we weren’t debating about Kobe vs. Jordan, we were arguing about Jay-z vs. Nas. He put me on to Bomm Sheltuh and I put him on to all the artists affiliated with The Screwed Up Click. When we weren’t trying to be each other’s teachers, we just laughed a lot and joked around. I had been smiling more...I noticed it was easy to, around him.

It was the beginning of Homecoming week, and everyone was officially going into overdrive. My brother and his girlfriend were in the midst of trying to get everyone to vote them for homecoming king and queen, and I was just in the midst of the chaos, just worried about what I was going to do with my hair for the game. I didn’t even think about the dance, because I knew I wasn’t going. It wasn’t my scene, and I didn’t have a date or even friends to go with. If I was back home, Lauren and I would easily be going to the dance together. But she was all the way down in Houston. No begging in this world would bring her here.

“Morning,” I glanced up to see Jermaine, dressed identical to me—today was ‘Twin Day’ for the school spirit week, and we decided on a blue set up. His blue polo and jeans seemed to fit yet hang freely from his lanky frame. His wheat-colored Timberland boots added to the look, and it matched my outfit completely, the only difference being my more fitting jeans. I had way too much thigh meat for anything to ‘hang’ off of me, anyway. I glanced down and saw the two small Krispy Kreme bags in his hand. “Missed the bus so my mama went by to get me some food—I managed to get extra for you,” He chuckled as he handed me one of the bags, and the chocolate milk he knew I enjoyed. He kept the strawberry milk for himself, which was fine...I hated that gross ass milk anyway.

“Thanks,” I grabbed my English book and notebook before tossing it into my bag, and I closed the locker door before we headed down the hallway together. “So, you going to the game on Friday?” I asked.

“Yeah. My homeboy is playing in the game so I definitely gotta show my support. And you gonna be cheering, right?” He asked, and I shrugged.

“On the sidelines. You’ll barely see me,” I laughed, and he threw an arm around my shoulder as he always did. It was nothing I wasn’t used to at this point, but it never failed to make me automatically snuggle closer to him. He smelled nice—like the good cologne and not that cheap shit all the boys seemed to wear. More than likely he jacked it off of his older brother Zach. He was always warm, too. It made my face warm when he was close to me.

“I’ll just come early so I can get a good spot in the stands so I can see you,” He said with a proud grin, and I laughed softly as I nudged him. These days, he didn’t hide his smile from me anymore.

“Silly ass,” I chuckled as we entered the cafeteria, sitting together to eat our breakfast. We really didn’t have a Krispy Kreme down in Houston—the last time Lauren wrote me a letter, the city had just gotten a new one and the kids were wearing it out every school morning. Up until then, we only had Shipley’s Donuts. But I could see why Jermaine spoke so highly of the heavenly rings; their taste was unmatched.

I wasn’t halfway into my first one when I saw Kieran approaching our table. “Morning, B,” He greeted before he glanced over at Jermaine with a sterner expression. “Jermaine,” He greeted.

“Kieran,” J spoke back with no sense of attachment to the older boy. My brothers gave J a hard time and my father gave him an even harder time. They had these ridiculous rules when he came over to study with me, and my father absolutely forbade me to be at Jermaine’s house unless his mother was there and would be there the whole time I was over there. It was ridiculous to me, because I knew that J and I were just friends. So what if we were growing close? I wasn’t interested in the birds and bees stuff, even after my mom gave me the talk when I started getting my period.

“You good, though? You need any extra lunch money or anything?” Kieran asked me the same thing every day, and I answered the same every time.

“No, thanks. I got it,” I said, and he nodded before he ran a hand over my curls playfully. I swatted his hand away and cracked a smile as he walked from the table.

“He hates me,” Jermaine bit into his donut after his statement, and I shook my head quickly. “Yes he does,” He argued.

“He’s protective...for whatever reason,” I said softly before I licked over my lips, getting the glaze off of my bottom lip.

“Yeah, whatever,” He chuckled, and I crinkled my nose in teasing before I downed some more of my milk. “Hey uh—you goin’ to the homecoming dance?” He asked.

“Huh? I wasn’t planning to,” I admitted.

“Really? Why not? I heard it was gonna be cool. Then the seniors link up with Smith’s seniors and throw a big ass after party since our homecomings are at the same time,” He explained. I didn’t really know much about the ‘schedule’ of the dance because I didn’t go last year.

“I just don’t wanna go. Not to watch everyone else have fun while I sit down,” I shook my head. “I can be a wallflower at my house with ice cream and my movies,” I said.

“Oh...nah, I feel you,” Jermaine sounded almost...sad, at my answer. Again, I was confused, but I brushed it off as we finished up our breakfast. Once we were finished, he walked me to class and I wouldn’t see him again until our usual times.

The rest of the week went as usual—Tuesday was Tacky Day, and I decided to wear one of my dad’s ld boxers over my jeans, along with a conflicting top and mismatched socks and shoes. Wednesday was Career Day and I wore one of my dress shirts and slacks. Thursday was College Day, and I dressed proudly in my Prarie View t-shirt with my jeans. Friday was Battle of the Classes, and mama had made me and Jermaine shirts—on the front had ‘Class of ‘03’ in our school colors, the right sleeve had ‘85’ due to our birth years, and on the back had our last names and our sports numbers; Jermaine held his basketball number, and mine was my number for cheerleading. She had also made a mini mum that I could wear easily around my wrist. It was actually a really nice gesture, especially since she was so busy with trying to do Kieran’s stuff as well.

We arrived at school together as usual, and we did our thing—lockers, breakfast, and heading on to class. In that span of time I saw three people make a production out of asking their girlfriends to the dance, and more and more I felt this weird sense of...longing. I almost wanted to go, but I didn’t want to bother my mom with buying a dress and shoes for a thing I actually didn’t want to go to.

“And here’s your stop,” I glanced up at Jermaine as he stopped in front of my English class, and I gave him a smile before we shared a quick hug. “See you in Algebra?”

“See you in Algebra.”

“Wait,” He said before he took off his backpack and rummaged through it. Pulling out a card and a CD sleeve, he handed them over to me with a bashful grin. “Don’t look or listen until you get home today before the game,” He said, and I nodded before he walked off down the hallway. I glanced over my shoulder as I looked back at him, and I saw some of his friends latch onto him. I could hear an influx of noise from their direction, and it almost sounded like they were...teasing him. Playfully, I assume, but still—they were teasing him. About what, I didn’t know.

I was granted a half-day like most of the athletes, band, majorette dancers and colorguard who would be participating in the homecoming game. My dad ended up being the one to pick me up from school and he brought me home before heading back to the restaurant. I did my homework and had a snack before I reminded myself of Jermaine’s surprise.

I headed upstairs before I walked into my bedroom, and I tossed my bag onto the bed before I took out the CD and the enveloped card. His attractive cursive handwriting etched the front of the blue enveloped. To Bumble Bee, it said. I smiled—we both enjoyed the Transformers animated cartoon, and while I said he was Optimus Prime, he said I was Bumble Bee.

I pulled the CD out of the sleeve before I placed it into my stereo. I switched the function from Radio to CD, and allowed it to play. The first track was The Temptation’s “My Girl,” and I found myself grinning as I gently rocked my hips to the beat. Although I could talk about any type of music until I was blue in the face, Jermaine knew I was a sucker for R&B. I was taken on a journey of 20 tracks of different love songs from the 50s all the way until the current day, and I was fully impressed at the thought J put into the placement of every track. It was cohesive and flowed almost perfectly. His ear for music was pretty impeccable, and I wasn’t surprised for someone who had dreams to becoming a musician.

After the songs were finished, I decided to finally open the card, and I read the front of the card. It was homemade, and the front was a print out of the classic Simpson’s episode of when Lisa gave Ralph the ‘I choo-choo-choose you!’ Valentine’s Day card. I laughed harshly at the reminded before I actually decided to open the card and read the message.

I know you said you don’t do Homecoming dances or whatever but I guess I’m going to ask anyway...because I really like you. We’ve been friends for a little bit now and I think you’re the flyest girl I’ve ever met. You’re really cute, and you make me smile...and that’s hard to do with this mouth of mine—

I found my face completely hot as I read over the words. Jermaine...likes me? He thinks I’m cute...? I was totally flattered, but confused. Why me? There were a lot of girls I’m sure he could like other than me. And the fact that he couldn’t just outright tell me himself said a lot. I never saw Jermaine as shy, but then some of his habits became a bit clearer. The way he held onto me in the hallways and our warm hugs now became hints I probably should have picked up. The way he hung onto my words as if I was saying something important, or how he’d never let anyone call me ‘weird’ in his presence. He always protected me and took up for me, and all this time I merely saw it as him being a nice guy. I still thought he was a good person, but now there was more to it. And for some reason, the thought made my stomach flutter. Was the thou0ght of him...giving me butterflies?

—Anyway, I really would like it if you could be my date to the dance. And if you want to, maybe we could talk about something beyond that...I really can see you being my girl. I’d like an answer after the game...I’ll be cheering for you in the stands. – Jermaine

I blew up my cheeks slowly before I lew out a slow breath, and I heard the door open downstairs. “Beija? I’m home baby,” I heard mama’s voice and I tossed the card on the bed before I hurried downstairs.

“HI mama,” I said softly, and she smiled before she pulled me into a hug, kissing my forehead.

“You ready to get yourself together for the game?” She asked, and I nodded. “Well go ahead and get yourself ready and I’ll get your hair stuff ready,” She instructed, and I headed back upstairs.

I grabbed my bath items and grabbed a fresh wash cloth and bath towel before I headed into the bathroom. Sitting my items down, I returned to my room and grabbed my cheerleading outfit before I brought it into the bathroom, hanging it on the door before I closed and locked it. I took a hot shower and began to wash my hair once I washed my body thoroughly. I got out of the bathroom and I blow dryed my hair before I dried off the rest of my body. I washed and cleansed my face before I slid on my training bra and underwear, sliding on the Nike branded sports bloomers on. I got into my uniform and I cleaned the bathroom before I opened the door and moved what was mine back into my room. I slid on my socks and shoes before I grabbed my sports bag and headed downstairs to where my mother was waiting in the dining room.

She straightened my hair before putting my hair into a high ponytail, and I sat quietly as she began to expertly brush and style my edges. “Mama? I...got asked to the homecoming dance,” I confessed.

“Oh? That’s good, baby!” She seemed so excited, mostly because I had been so reclusive since Rashaad had passed. That’s probably the only reason why she didn’t oppose me being friends with Jermaine—he was probably my only friend, and he was bringing me out of my shell slowly. “Who asked?”

“Jermaine did...”

“Oh! Are you going with him?”

“I don’t know what I should do,” I paused for a moment before I crossed my legs. “He said he liked me. As more than a friend. I’m confused,” I continued to spill to my mother, mostly because I didn’t know what else to do or whom to turn to about it other than her. As crazy as things had been, she would understand my struggle at the moment.

“Oh...wow,” She laughed softly to herself. “Well, how do you feel, baby? Do you like him or not?” She asked.

“I don’t know. I just know how I feel when I’m around him. He’s really nice...and he listens to like, everything I say,” I laughed before I shrugged. “He brings me donuts almost every day. We talk about everything. And he’s just...warm, and kind to me. And he’s actually really nice looking. He gets this chink in his eyes when he’s laughing or when he smiles, and he has the craziest expressions, too. And his eyes...he has nice, brown eyes...”

“Oh, baby...” My mama almost sounded sympathetic. “You like him. You like him a lot,” She decided, and my stomach turned. I wasn’t any good at relationships...I knew nothing about being a girlfriend. Jermaine would be my first boyfriend if I said yes to his proposal—I was actually kind of anxious. “Just....do what you feel, baby. I trust your judgement and I know he’s a good kid,” She was giving me her blessing.

“But daddy, Kieran, and Marquis...they’re going to be so mad,” I huffed. “Especially daddy. You know how he is about Jermaine,” I said.

“He will have to deal. You’re growing up, and I know you’re not going to do what isn’t right,” She made sure my ponytail was in place and had straightened my hair to a silky texture before she placed a bow around m hairtie. “I’ll deal with that mule of a father of yours. And your brothers will learn to deal as well,” She kissed my cheek. “I got your back, girlie,” She smiled, and I felt some genuine love in her words. I smiled back, not because I had to either.

Mama made up my face, and added on a coat of lipstick and gloss in accordance with how my coach wanted our faces done. By the time I was ready, Kieran was just getting home from school and it was his turn to get ready for the game. His girlfriend was escorting him during the halftime festivities—the school would be announcing the king during the game, and the queen during the dance.

Once Marquis and Daddy got home, they got themselves ready to go and we were all off to the school first to drop me and Kieran off before they hurried off to the stadium. Once I piled onto the bus with my fellow cheerleaders, we waited for the dancers and colorguard to fill the other buses before we rode off towards the stadium.

Soon enough the game began, and I did my job as I always did at every game—I kept my pageant smile in place as I recited and performed the same old fight songs and cheer chants that I had learned over the summer and practiced every day since school had begun. It came as natural as breathing, so it didn’t prevent me from thinking about the dilemma that I had been presented with. A guy was sitting in the stands watching me right now, and I was probably the most important thing he had his eyes on that night. And I felt the same as him. But should I go for ir, or prevent an inevitable heartache? Jermaine would learn the true extent of me if we got together, and I wasn’t sure if he’d want to stick around once he realized how much of a mess I was, even at a mere 14-years-old. But maybe that was the part of me that had forced itself to grow. The true parts of me knew that I’d want nothing more to have somebody on my arm, especially when they were as cool to me as Jermaine had been. Maybe I was overthinking this, and maybe I just needed to let go and allow things to progress naturally.

By the time I heard the ending licks of Smith’s drumline cadence, I knew it was time for us to respond, and suddenly the thoughts in my head fueled my adrenaline. I was going to have a ‘solo’ within the routine that we were about to do, and whatever nervousness I held throughout the week about it was long gone now.

The beginning of the ‘Duality’ drum sequence began, and me and another cheerleader began our back handsprings down the track before we planted into our positions and began our routine to the cadence of the drums. I kept my smile on my face as I continued to my routine, making sure to hit every single move I was taught. Of all the things in my life, I did actually cherish being on the squad, and if I wanted to be captain by the time I got to my senior year, I had to put my best foot forward even on my lowest days. It was how I was taught and I couldn’t shake that need to succeed.

After our drumline accompanied routine, I was hoisted up as one of three during our chant to get the crowd going. The coach insisted that I would be one of the three ‘star’ players because of my athleticism, and it was times like these that I thanked God that Mama forced me into gymnastics when I was younger. By the time the routine was done, one of two burdens were lifted off of my shoulders. I got out of it without a bruise or broken bone.

Halftime was a blast—the band did an incredible job, and I was happy to see Kieran win the crown for homecoming king. It was a pretty nice achievement especially since it was his last year at the school. I continued to watch the game and rally the crowd, knowing that my biggest task was nearing its appearance.

After the game I headed towards the locker room with the girls and I changed out of my uniform to my cheering t-shirt and windbreaker pants. I slid on the matching jacket before packing my bag, and I bid the girls a good evening before I headed out into the cool air outside. Jermaine was waiting for me by the exit, and I smiled softly as we shared a hug. “How’d you like the game? We pulled in a win,” I walked alongside him as he headed towards our cars. I could see my mom and Ms. Kay talking to one another, and my brothers were joking arund with some of Kieran’s friends.

“It was dope. But you did great. I saw you flippin’ and shit. Little ninja,” He nudged me, and I laughed a bit as he let out his own as well. “So...did you listen to the CD I made you?” He asked.

“Yeah,” I said as I felt my cheeks begin to warm.

“And the card?” He pressed.

“I read it...” I answered, and he nodded. “So... What color are we wearing?” He stopped walking, and he looked over at me as I stared at him. I broke into a small smile, and he grinned as he nodded.

“I was thinking blue? Maybe a light blue...I like you in blue,” He said, and I nodded shyly as we approached the car. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” He said loud enough for his mother to hear, and she looked at me before she smiled broadly. She knew.

“Yeah, see you!” I waved before I climbed into my car with my brothers, yawning a bit as we began the drive home. “Can we have McDonald’s for dinner? I want a nugget meal,” I said.

“We always have McDonald’s. Can’t we get some Denny’s or something?” Kieran argued.

“Ooh, yeah! I want a chicken meal from there,” Marquis agreed.

“If we’re going to a pancake place, why not IHOP? It’s better. You can still get your chicken, ‘Quis,” Daddy said as he kept his eyes on the road. “We still gotta pick up your tux in the morning, Kieran. Don’t let me forget,” He instructed.

“Yes sir.”

“Mama...we have to go to the dress shop tomorrow,” I said quietly.

“Oh, okay baby. I can get you an appointment before I have to go into work,” She said casually, but I could feel Kieran’s eyes burning into the side of my face.

“You going to the dance after all?” He asked, and I nodded without looking at him.

“I bet she’s going with Jermaine,” Marquis annoyingly stretched out his name, and I rolled my eyes as I slowly sunk into my seat. “See, told ya. That’s totally her boyfriend,” He teased.

“Boyfriend?” Daddy’s eyebrow raised as he glanced at me, and my face was probably so dark from blushing so deeply.

“It’s not like that,” I whined softly before I looked over at Mama.

“Y’all, leave her alone. It’s just a dance,” She chuckled softly before Marquis snickered, only stopping when she glared at him. “Marquis, stop bothering your sister,” She ordered.

“She don’t need no boyfriend right now,” Daddy declared. “Especially not that boy. Boys don’t bring nothin’ but trouble,” He frowned as he spoke, and I did all I could not to roll my eyes.

“I was 13 when I had my first boyfriend. She’ll be 15 soon—you’re going to have to accept that she might like boys, Mekhi,” Mama teased a bit. “How old were you when you had a girlfriend?” She asked.

“Sixteen,” He proudly announced.

“I thought you said you were twelve,” Kieran innocently corrected, and Marquis and I burst into laughter.

“Boy shut up. That’s not the point,” Daddy argued, and I tuned out the rest of the conversation from that point on. I felt like it was just encoded into men to be protective to their sisters or daughters. But Daddy, nor Kieran or Marquis would ever get it. Jermaine wasn’t just some boy. He was different. He was my friend...my best friend that I’ve had since moving to Fayetteville. And more and more, I was into the thought of him being my boyfriend, too.

Mama actually had a day off, so she spent the entire day getting me ready for the dance. I feel like she craved times like this with me—where I acted like a ‘normal’ teenaged girl who actually had boy problems and wanted to dress up. We had a Mother-Daughter Day, and I actually found myself enjoying myself. Maybe I did need more time with my parents to make me feel a little better. She first took me to the spa and we got massages and facials before she took me to the nail salon to get a new set for my nails and a pedicure. Ms. Kay had called Mama and told her the color we needed to look for was Carolina Blue, and I wasn’t surprised. J was such a prideful boy, and he loved his city...hell, the whole state. So while I kept my nails a simple French tip with clear polish, my toes were painted in the corresponding blue shade.

We headed to the dress shop next, and within about fifteen minutes I saw the prettiest dress that I knew I wanted—it was a simple piece with a what the label called a ‘sweetheart hem’ on the top, and a flowing skirt that stopped at the knees. It was the perfect shade that Jermaine wanted, and deep down I felt like he’d appreciate the way it’d look on me. “This one, mama,” I touched the dress gingerly as I spoke.

“Alright...and it’s a good price, too. You have a good eye,” She laughed. “Let’s go get it altered.”

We spent a couple hours with the seamstress as she poked and prodded at the dress to make sure it fit my body—despite how I was trying to keep fit for cheerleading, there was no avoiding the hips and thighs that my mother passed onto me. Even my breasts were beginning to grow as well, and that probably contributed to why the men in my family were insisting on locking me away from the eyes of other boys. But nonetheless, when the dress was finally ready, it looked pretty great on me.

We made one last stop at the crafting store, and my mother looked through beads and stones of all kinds to find something that she could craft together for me to wear as jewelry. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Mama to do so, and I appreciated the time she was taking out to make me feel pretty for the dance. I wouldn’t take it for granted.

When we got home, I had some time to rest and relax before the dance—it consisted, actually of long amounts of primping and getting ready. Since the ladies at the spa were nice enough to thread and arch my eyebrows to a suitable thickness and shape, I could worry more about the hair on my legs. I shaved them and even did my arms too. I was told that they would just grow back but I didn’t even care...I felt like I was in a movie, primping up for a big first date...honestly, this was exactly what it was. My first date.

Now, I was nervous.

After a while, it was time for me to shower and get ready—me and Kieran took turns wit0h the bathroom, and once he was done it was time for me to get myself together. I entered the bathroom with my things, and I took a long and hot shower, making sure to wash every part of my that I could. Once I got out of the shower I dried off and applied cocoa butter to my body as always before slipping on my nude colored strapless bra and a pair of simple underwear. I slipped on my dress and I grabbed my stuff before hurrying to my room to make sure no one saw me. Mama was already there with my hair things, ready to help out with the mane sitting on top of my head.

“Oh, baby...you look so pretty! That was a perfect dress choice,” She complimented, and I smiled softly as she turned on my stereo. The Jill Scott hit they had been wearing out all summer was on once again, although I couldl never tire of hearing her sing about how the guy in her life even made her feel happy about cooking toast, two scrambled eggs, and some grits.

As Mama hummed with the tune, she began to carefully do two French Braids that circled the crown of my head and met at the back of my head. Tying light blue rubber band to bind the braids together, she plugged in the curling iron and let it head as we continued to listen to the radio, and once the iron was ready she coiled all of my hair into a flurry of curls that resembled my usual hair. Once she was finished, she presented me with the earrings and matching necklace she made for me and helped me put them on. She put a cover-up on me before starting on my make-up; she gave me what famous people would refer to as a “dramatic smoky eye” and then topped it with some simple lip gloss. I looked into the mirror and I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I looked age appropriate, but there was something elegant about the way I looked. I felt like a princess. “I like it. Thank you mama,” I smiled as I put on my platinum charm bracelet and Emerald-stone ring Daddy got me for my 13th birthday.

“You’re welcome. Now go put on your shoes and thing. Ms. Kay said she’s bringing Jermaine in...about 10 minutes,” She said as she began to clean up. She was gone in about five minutes, and I was left alone to do my own thing for the next five minutes.

I glanced over at the vanity and I saw the mostly filled bottle of perfume, and I grabbed it before I lightly sprayed it on my pulse points and on my person. The sweet smell of vanilla and various spices filled my noise and I sat the bottle down before picking up the travel-sized version of it and sat it in my silver clutch. With it, I packed my lip gloss and my compact mirror, and a pack of Extra spearmint-flavored gum along with the bottle of mace that Mama provided for me ‘just in case.’

I walked to my closet and grabbed the pair of silver ankle-cuff heels that matched my purse and jewelry, slipping them on before fastening the thin buckle around each ankle before I wiggled my toes gently. The heels brought me from my tiny 5’2” to a 5’8”, and I was unsure if I was still too short for Jermaine. Either way, I felt like I was on top of the world. I looked in the full length mirror and I smiled to myself before I spun around slowly, taking a deep exhale.

Three knocks on the door brought me out of my silent moment. “Mama said come on,” Kieran said.

“Here I come.”

I opened the door, and he glanced down at me before he raised his eyebrows. “Wow. You look beautiful,” He said, and I felt this sense of pride. It was probably the most genuine thing Kieran had said to me in the last two years.

“Thanks,” I glanced over his outfit—Daddy had done well in making sure he looked put together. It was a simple two-piece black suit with a black shirt and a purple tie and handkerchief. I assume he and his girl were matching. “You look great, too. I’m sure your little girlfriend will like it,” I teased.

“Uh-huh. Your little boyfriend gonna be all bug eyed when he see you,” He countered.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I corrected.

“Yet,” He left me without a rebuttal, and I huffed as I followed him.

“Aw...look at my babies!” Mama said excitedly as we came down the stairs of the home, and my eyes snapped to Jermaine, who was waiting next to his mother. His face was the reddest that I had seen ina while—he hadn’t blushed that much since that time at the mall when his pants fell down in front of everyone. But his eyes were directly on me, and I couldn’t help but to blush too.

“You two look amazing,” Daddy nodded as he patted Kieran on the shoulder. He smiled down at me before he kissed my cheek, and I clasped my hands in front of me.

“Alright, the rules are that you need to be home by 1. No more or less. Since that’s the time we gave Kieran, we’re going to be fair and give it to you too, Beija,” Mama said, and I could tell that it was completely her decidison and she probably had to convince Daddy to go along with it. Otherwise, I would have been given a 11:00 curfew. “Please don’t get arrested, don’t drink anything once you put it down...”

“We know,” Kieran and I said at once before we gave each other a glance, smiling. For that moment, I just felt a bond with him.

As Kieran went to embrace and take photos with his girlfriend, I walked over to Jermaine, smiling shyly as I threw him a wave. I glanced over his outfit, and I smiled at the fitted suit that made him look way different from the casual clothes I saw him in every day. His white shirt and blue tie and handkerchief was a nice touch as well.

“I got you these,” He held out the bouquet of roses, and I grinned as I took them from him.

“Thanks! These are really nice. Let me go put them in water,” I hurried off to do so and afterwards, it was out time to take photos and such.

While Kieran took his car with his girl, Jermaine and I were being chauffeured by his mom—I didn’t mind because neither one of us could drive, anyway. Once we were in the car we seemed to fall back into old habits, laughing and joking as we always did. It no longer even felt like a ‘date;’ it just felt natural. It felt like quality time with my best guy friend, and I was happy all throughout.

Our first stop was at an Olive Garden to have some dinner. We actually ended up seeing a lot of our school mates there, and of course his friends teased him again...now I knew for sure they were teasing him over me. We had some simple pasta—spaghetti for him, chicken alfredo for me, then we shared a brownie sundae. After paying for the meal, we headed off the the dance.

The theme for the year was ‘Hollywood Nights,’ and the school’s hallway that led towards the gym where the dance would be held resembled a red carpet, complete with ‘paparazzi’ snapping our photots and getting ‘interviewed’ by some students that worked for the school paper. Once we paid for our entry and headed inside, I glanced around at the elaborate decorations and the lights that littered the darkened space. Kids were everywhere, whether they were dancing or just talking. Chaperones were never too far away, breaking up any dancing that was too risqué or watching the punch bowl to make sure none of the older kids got any bright ideas.

“So what do you wanna do?” I glanced over at Jermaine, who seemed to be at a loss to what even do next.

I shrugged before I heard the beginning licks to Lil’ Bow Wow’s current single, and I gasped as I felt my hips begin to automatically move. “Let’s dance!” I laughed as I grabbed his hand and nearly dragged him to the dance floor.

I swayed to the music as I bounced my shoulders, and I laughed as Jermaine began to quietly rap along, loosening up once he saw I was enjoying his performance. I threw my hands up in the air as I began to horribly sing along to the chorus, and he cackled as I continued to dance around him. On and off we took breaks to go drink some punch and eat some of their finger foods, but for the most part we were out on the floor, having fun and dancing. When it was time to crown the the Homecoming Queen, I watched Kieran’s girlfriend win the title and them have their celebratory dance.

“And now, I wanna play another song for all the lovers out there,” The DJ jokingly responded before he began to play Avant and Keke Wyatt’s version of “My First Love.”

Most of the girls squealed and swooned over what was probably their favorite song of the moment. Even I had to admit that I was in love with the song as well. As the beat dropped, I slightly rocked to the music before I felt a slight nudge to my side. I glanced over to my right and saw Jermaine with his hand held out to me. “Will you0 dance with me?” He sounded so nervous and now I felt as bad as he sounded.

I downed the rest of the punch I had and tossed the cup in the nearby trash bin before I took his hand, and he led me to the dance floor.

The bright red and yellow lights that were flashing during the high-strung hip-hop hits of the year were now replaced with soft blues and purples, and I allowed Jermaine to lead as he pulled me closer to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, making sure not to hit him with the clutch I had attached to my wrist. He wrapped his arms around my waist and we slowly began to sway to the music. It was an odd feeling to be this close to him, but at the same time I felt like I was right where I wanted to be. My stomach was to the brim with flutters, and althou0gh his soft gaze made me want to shy away...I didn’t.

“You look really beautiful tonight,” He said, and I blushed deeply as I looked down for a brief moment at our feet. I could still see my toes despite the darkness, and his loafer clad shoes moved in time with me.

“Thank you,” I responded before I looked back up at him. His eyes were still on me, and I bit the inside of my cheek slowly. “You look handsome, too. I’m surprised—you usually look like such a bum,” I teased, and he rolled his eyes slowly.

“Damn, so it’s like that?” He chuckled before he gently squeezed my waist. My legs suddenly felt heavy and wobbly from the gesture. “But you said that you read the card, right?” He asked, and I nodded slowly before I pressed my glossed lips together.

“I read it,” I insisted.

“So...do you like me?” He asked, and I noticed how nervous he became. “I know you’re here because I asked you and we’re friends but—you know,” He shrugged as if he was trying to predict whatever I was about to say. He seemed defeated already.

“Can you not act like I said no?” I frowned.

“Well, you haven’t said yeah yet...and I know I ain’t shit,” He laughed nervously, and I sig0hed a little.

“I do like you, stupid. And you aren’t ‘not shit.’ You’re really nice...” I said, and he looked up at me with those large brown eyes. He had the prettiest eyes.

“You for real? So you’ll be my girl?” The hope in his voice made me realize I wasn’t making a bad decision. Maybe this would all be just fine.

“Yeah...I’ll be your girl,” I agreed, and he smiled a bit before he nodded as he slowly slid his hands up my back.

He took a moment to pull one of his hands from my back and he gripped my chin momentarily; I inwardly panicked when he began to lean in. He was going for it...he was really about to go for it, and I wasn’t sure what to even do. I had never been kissed nor kissed anyone in my whole life. I never even thought to practice. What if it went wrong? What if—

His lips met mine and my eyes slowly closed as I reveled in the softness of his gesture. He pulled away after some seconds, and I watched him lick over his lips before he cocked one of the most satisfied and smut smiles I’ve ever seen on him. I couldn’t do anything but smile myself.

He was something else.

#eyez; outtakes

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sinandredemptionff · 8 years ago

Text

Chapter 14: Secrets and Betrayal

Robyn POV:

I stepped onto the plane and took my seat. I waved to Don one final time at the window. He waved back as he wiped his face. Was he crying? I hope not.

"Mrs. Brown, would you like anything to drink?"

"Bring me whatever alcohol y'all have."

"Sure."

After two glasses of vodka and cranberry, I decided to take a nap.

*3 Hours Later*

"We have arrived." The flight attendant said waking me up.

I yawned and looked out the window. I saw our family car and Chris getting out with a bouquet of roses. I unbuckled my seatbelt and hurriedly made my way off the jet and into his arms.

He picked me up and we began having a makeout session. It was getting intense but we didn't care. We're married and we missed each other.

"Man you don't know how happy I am that you're back." He said.

"I think I have an idea."

"I gotta get your ass home. Come on."

"Where are my babies?"

"With my mom. She's had them out all day and they’re staying in a hotel tonight. I didn't tell them that you'd be back today, so it's a surprise."

"I can't wait to see them."

When we got home I immediately went to lay in my bed.

"It feels so good to be back in my own house."

"I bet." Chris said lying next to me.

"Especially being back with my husband by my side."

I cuddled up to him and he began to kiss me as his hands roamed my body. I let out a soft moan and he smiled. I climbed on top of him not breaking from our kiss and unbuttoned his shirt. The doorbell rang interrupting us.

"Fuck, who is it?" He turned the surveillance camera on the tv to see who was at the front door.

It was my girls smiling and making faces at the camera.

"My sisters are here!!" I said excitedly and hopping off of him.

"You really told them you're back already?"

"Oh yea sorry, I actually texted them when we were on our way. I didn't know they would come over."

"Tell them to leave."

"I'm not doing that."

"Unlike some men I love your friends but we haven't seen each other in months, and I missed the fuck out of you. This might be the only time we have to ourselves for a while."

"I missed you too honey but they're here now, and I'm not going to tell them to leave. I'll make it up to you, ok?"

"Fine!" He said and I gave him a quick peck.

"I'm coming bitches!" I yelled as I jogged down the stairs.

I opened the door and hugged everyone individually then we did a group hug.

"We missed you sis." Mel said.

"I missed y'all too. Now pop open that bottle and let's talk."

We got some fruit and wine, and went into the den. We sat on the floor Indian style.

"Tell us everything about NY." Mya said.

“Yes, how did you like my state?” Jessica added.

"Girl there's so much to tell."

"Spill it."

"Here's your phone. I'm going over to Trey's house to meet with the homies." Chris interrupted.

"Thanks and ok let me know when you make it."

"Aight."

"Hey to you too Christopher." Jessica said.

"Hi."

"Umm is someone upset?"

"Yea, he's cranky because y'all interrupted something."

"Oop we're sorry bro, we didn’t know."

"It's cool, bye y'all." He said leaving.

"You didn't tell us that you were about to give up the goods and now he's mad at us. That man is probably so frustrated." Monique said.

"He'll be ok. He waited over 2 months he can wait another few hours."

"Chile I guess, anyway back to New York. What happened?"

I told them every detail about my experience and showed them pictures of the new store.

"How are the people there? Did you make new friends?"

"She better not had replaced us." Mya said.

"I could never. I met a few nice people. What were y'all up to?" I said changing the subject.

"Nah sis you're not getting off that easy. I know you too well and I know you're not telling us something. Who was he?" Mel said and everyone looked at me. I didn't say anything and downed my glass of wine.

"Oh bitch!! See I knew something was up because as much as you talk about Chris I know you would've left us outside for the D. So spill!!" Monique said eating a strawberry.

"Don't tell us you cheated on Chris." Jessica said.

"No! I would never in my life cheat on my husband."

"What happened then because the way you're acting says a lot."

"Nothing happened. I met a guy named Don and we became close. I considered him just a friend, but today when he dropped me off at the airport something seemed off."

"What do you mean?"

“I think he has feelings for me. He didn’t say it but that’s the vibe I got.”

"I don't know what to say."

"Did you do anything to lead him on or think that you were interested?"

"He knows that I'm happily married and have a family. I would go over to his place for dinner sometimes and play with his son. We spent a lot of time together but I was just nice to him."

"Sis you're fine and have a dope personality, niggas are going to fall for you eventually." Monique said.

"What am I supposed to do?"

“I want to know what he looks like.” I pulled out my phone and showed them a picture of us from his son’s birthday party.

“Oh shit he is fine!” Monique blurted out.

“Mo!!”

“Oops I mean he’s aight.”

“Robyn, do you possibly have feelings for him?”

“What?”

“Do you have more feelings for him than you’re putting on?” Mel asked.

“Honestly, I thought about it.”

“Giiirrrrl no ma’am. You can’t do that to Chris.” Monique said.

“Real shit Robs because Chris is a good man.” Jessica agreed.

“Y’all think I don’t know how great my husband is? Of course I know. I’m the one with him therefore y’all can’t tell me shit. Excuse me.” I said getting up.

I went to sit in the backyard by myself. I got slightly pissed about them trying to imply that I didn’t value my husband. I’ve been through it all with that man and I know him better than anyone. Those are my best friends and I didnt expect them to come at me like that.

“Robyn, we’re sorry.” I heard them say and I rolled my eyes.

“We didn’t mean to get you upset. We just know how much you and Chris went through to get to this point, and we would hate to see someone come in between that. Can you please forgive us? We love you.” Monique said.

“Ugh I guess I can and I love y’all too.”

“Now what you were saying earlier sis?” Mya said.

“Like I said I thought I had feelings for him but I realized it was only because he was there. I was used to having male attention from Chris every day that it was weird not having it until I met Don. He was there for me the same way Chris is except there was no sexual interactions what so ever, but when I saw Chris at the airport I was reminded why he is the man I married. When I kissed him again I realized there’s no way I can have feelings for another man when all of my heart belongs to him.”

“Damnit sis, you make me sick with this cute shit.” Monique said wiping her eyes.

“Are you crying forreal?”

“Shut up, y’all know I’m sensitive.”

“Girl here’s a napkin, but anyways I understand what you’re saying Robs and it makes sense.” Jessica said.

“I get it too. I mean you’re used to affection and attention, and when Don showed you that you developed a temporary grade school crush. It’s no big deal honestly.”

"Exactly!" I replied.

They shifted the conversation and got on what they've been up to. However, my mind stayed on the one we just had. I can't think about this anymore. Don is a great guy and he'll be perfect for someone else.

Chris POV:

"Why aren't your women with y'all?" I said when I walked into the den of Trey's house.

"Because they're with Robyn."

"Right and that's the problem."

"Why is that a problem?"

"Nigga probably ain't have the chance to get it in before they came over." Trey said and they all laughed hysterically.

"I'm glad y'all think it's funny."

“Ok y’all, leave a brother alone. It’s hard when a man is going through a drought.” Jermaine said.

“Thank you, at least someone understands my pain.” I quickly go quiet after my last statement.

“Well I’m sorry I can’t relate.” Trey said.

"What about you and Monique?"

"Wait, you just reminded me that we haven't had sex yet, thanks a lot Mijo. Nevermind fam I can relate."

"How is that working out for y'all?" Jermaine asked.

"Pretty well actually, thanks for asking." Trey replied.

"No problem man."

"Back to the subject at hand." I said.

“Seriously all jokes aside bro, I told Monique to not go over there. She’s hard headed.” Trey said.

My mind keeps reverting back to Robyn’s trip and I can’t help but to think she isn’t telling me everything. I know that woman all too well.

“Y’all don’t think Robyn would…?” I can’t even say the word.

“Would what?” Mijo asked confusingly.

“Cheat?” I replied lowly.

“You never know what someone is capable of doing when you’re not around and I don’t put anything past anyone. However, in this case bruh no. That woman loves you too much, she has shown that. Why would you ask that?”

“I don’t know, it was stupid to think anyway. I’m trippin’ but let’s talk about something else. Trey, how is your relationship with Mo going?”

“Great! She’s given me what I didn’t know I needed in my life.”

“Are you two official yet?” Shad chimed in as he walked in from the kitchen munching on a snack. Trey gave him a funny look and shook his head.

“Just because y’all are my niggas doesn’t mean you all are free to eat me out of a house and home.”

“That’s exactly what it means. Stop trippin’ we’ve been tight since like the third grade. You’re practically my brother, now answer my question about Monique. She’s so damn fine with those slick baby hairs and deep dimples.” Shad continued to egg Trey on.

I don’t know why he likes picking at him. We all know Trey has a temper but he’s being extremely calm right now, thank God.

“To answer your question, no we aren’t official. I actually really like her though. She spends the night and we go out three times a week. Everyone in this room knows that never happens which can make this a good or bad thing.”

“Damn Tremaine I’m happy for you, don’t fuck this up she’s a good girl. You need to stop playing and officially wife that. She’s smart with a great head on her shoulders. My baby did a great job looking out.” I said.

“She sure did, that’s why I have to thank my sister. Now do y'all want to get on this 2k or poker? Either way I’m dominating, this is my house.” Trey began trash talking, something he is great at. He thinks he can beat us all in every game.

“Nigga you know I’m always ready.” I called his bluff.

“Nah, I’m about to head out. I’ll catch up with you guys later.” Jermaine retorts.

“Where are you going? I drove us here. Jess picking you up or something?” Mijo asked.

“Umm yea. Anyway just play y’all little game and stay out of a grown man’s business.” He chuckled.

He waved his hand in the air before removing his coat from the rack in front of him. I know Jermaine he’s very discrete. He moves very quietly when he’s up to something. We used to joke and call him the silent killer.

“Who’s ready to get their ass whooped in 2k? Come on down to the price is right.” Trey joked.

“Put your money where your controller is then Mr. Neverson. I bet three hundred dollars. Winner takes all.”

“Stop being modest like you aren’t wealthy as fuck over there. I’ll put up eight hundred.” Trey challenged me.

“Cool that’s fair game. Anyone else want in?”

“No thanks, I have a wife and a kid to feed. I don’t have the luxury of throwing money around.” Mijo laughed.

Trey plugged up the system and the game began. This is all or nothing and I refuse to go home empty handed.

Jermaine POV:

I looked behind me to make sure none of the fellows were watching me. I didn’t drive over here for a reason, I rode with Mijo because I knew I had other plans. I walked a few blocks down from Trey’s house to my destination. I got in the passenger seat of the car that was waiting for me on the corner.

“Hello handsome. To my place or yours?” Her sweet voice sounded in my ear. A smirk formed on my face. When I’m around her I can’t help but smile.

“To my place gorgeous.”

After a ten minute ride in silence we entered the parking lot of my condo. I unraveled myself from the seatbelt as fast as I could. Reaching towards the driver’s seat I grabbed her face and began passionately kissing her. With each kiss our make out session intensified. My breathing was beginning to become heavy and she slightly moaned. I broke from our kiss and her brown complexion was turning red.

“Wow Jermaine that was amazing.” That was the first time we’ve kissed and it felt amazing.

After a couple of months of playing phone tag we started hanging out recently, and it didn’t take long for me to realize I wanted her in the worst way. I feel terrible about doing this to Jessica but I can’t resist her.

“No, you’re the amazing one Mya.”

“Here I was thinking to myself this night better be worth it. I left my girls to be with you. They also questioned me and gave me the third degree. I lied saying I had to get some sleep.”

“Well was it worth it or do I need to kiss you again for an answer?”

“It’s more than worth it. I’m starting to feel you’re worth it. Jessica and I have been friends since middle school and she has had my back ever since. She has always been there for me but I can’t control who I care about. I know I will lose my best friend behind this but I’ve been through so much hell, and you are like a breath of fresh air. I’m tired of hiding us from everyone Jermaine. We are grown as hell and should be allowed to be with whomever we want, no matter the consequences.” I knew eventually she would become frustrated. Women hate to feel they are hidden.

“Baby girl we will tell them when we are sure it's right. We are grown but I just don’t want to bombard them with this. Jess doesn’t deserve to be hurt and we’ve been together for a long time. I do still love her but it’s something about you that draws me in.”

“I feel the same way about you. I know this is wrong but I can’t help myself. If only you were someone else and not my best friend’s boyfriend everything would be easier.”

“Yea, but I guess anything worth having in life isn’t easy.” I pecked her lips and we headed inside my condo.

Jessica has been my ride or die for a long time and she has my heart. However, Mya is intriguing and I can’t stop myself from thinking about her. I haven’t told anyone about my dealings with Mya because not only do I not want to hurt my girl, I’m not sure how Chris will act.

Mya and Chris haven’t been together in forever, and he’s very much in love with Robyn but he can be very selfish at times. He’s a Taurus, who’s naturally bull-headed. I’m not ready for anyone to fuck up the happiness I feel and I’m not ready for judgement from the rest of the guys. They will rant about how I broke the bro code and say I should feel shameful. Mya is a special person to me in my life. Chris played her if we’re truthfully speaking and we’re not even going to speak on the bastard who put his hands on her. We will tell everyone about our blossoming friendship eventually. I know we need to do this soon before this explodes before our eyes. There will never be a right time to tell them but it has to be done. Either way hearts will be broken. Chris is my brother and I don’t want any bad blood between us. Jessica is my love and I honestly don’t want to lose her, but she needs to know the feelings I have for her friend.

Trey POV:

As I cleaned up my house two hours later after the intense game challenge, I feel foolish. I lost my money to Chris and I’m certain I won’t hear the last of it. Normally I am the one who is amazing at shit like this but maybe I got too cocky. My doorbell began chiming in the middle of my cleaning session. It’s probably one of the boys. They are always forgetting car keys and cell phones. I opened the door and to my surprise I’m greeted by a petite Monique, who’s wobbling from side to side. She can barely keep her balance.

“Hey, I missed you so I told the cab driver to bring me over. I hope you don’t mind.” She hiccuped making her way through the front door.

“That’s fine babe. I have no problem with that.”

“By the way you owe the cab driver $80.50. I don’t know where I lost my wallet.” Damn I just keep losing money tonight.

I chuckled lowly to myself as I jogged upstairs to get my wallet. I came back down to Monique spinning in my bar stool. I see this is going to be a long night. I walked outside to give the cab driver exactly what he was owed and go back in the house to assist the little drunk one.

“Baby girl, how many bottles of wine did the girls drink?” I picked her up removing her from the bar stool. She needed to change out of these clothes.

“I lost track, we had good girl talk. We talked about everything baby.” She snickered.

“What did you talk about?”

“We talked about you and how much I like you. We talked about some other stuff too.” I began removing her clothing one by one. I removed her heels from her feet. I took off her shirt replacing it with one of my big T-shirts and I removed her jeans, and swapped them out for some shorts.

“What are you doing Trey?”

“I’m trying to make you feel comfortable that’s all.” I sat on the edge of the bed and placed her in my lap.

I didn’t know what the hell I was doing but I began fondling with her hair to make a bun. Then I remembered the last time she was here she left a bonnet. I quickly went to the master bathroom to get it. Her eyes lit up once I placed it on her head. I have enough aunties and sisters to know that women never sleep without headscarves on. I laid her down on the bed and cuddled up next to her.

“Oh my gosh Trey you put my bonnet on! That is so beautiful!!” Her eyes are beginning to well with tears. Yep someone is definitely out of it. It’s time for bed.

“I’ll do anything for you, never forget that.” I placed kisses on the side of her neck. She giggled like a school girl with a crush. I don’t know what it is about her that makes me want to be all in.

“That’s why I love you Trey.” She mumbled lowly but I still heard her.

It feels like the room is spinning. My heart is pounding fast. I can’t say it just yet. I pretended I didn’t hear it and began kissing behind her ears.

“Just get some sleep little one.”

I know I feel things with Mo that I’ve never felt with other women and it makes me feel good, yet it is also terrifying. I have always had a disconnect from women until she came along and now I think I’m getting cold feet. She is more than a man like me deserves.

#rihanna #rihanna fanfic #chris brown #chris brown fanfic #chrianna #chriannaff #chrianna fanfic

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speakmuzik · 6 years ago

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Follow @muzik_speaks Tweet to @muzik_speaks

On Saturday 4th August 2018, Preston Park was brought to life with the UK’s largest, annual Pride Festival and this year was especially huge, with over 57,000 people partying the day away. This was, in part, due to the presence of the one and only Britney Spears, headlining the main stage. Also performing were Louise, MNEK, Mabel, Pixie Lott and Ella Eyre. The afternoon was utterly incredible and people had a truly unforgettable time…the best Brighton Pride yet!

Relive the whole thing with our Brighton Pride Weekender playlist.

Mabel

Mabel‘s performance was great – considering she’s not released an album yet, I still knew most of the songs she performed (through their online presence and radio airplay), such as ‘Fine Line’, ‘Ring Ring’, ‘My Lover’ and ‘Finders Keepers’ (which can be seen in the YouTube video below). However, even those I didn’t know were captivating to watch due to her excellent live vocals and high energy. A lot of her songs have clear R&B and reggae influences which means her debut album (that she is currently working on) should be really interesting!

Pixie Lott

It’s been a while since Pixie Lott‘s last album (the self-titled Pixie Lott in 2014) but she sure showed how sensational her voice and just how many massive hits she’s had with this fun-filled performance. Some of the stand-out performances included ‘Mama Do (Uh Oh, Uh Oh)’, ‘Boys And Girls’, ‘Turn It Up’ and ‘All About Tonight’ (which can be seen in the YouTube video below). I’m just gutted she didn’t perform her summery 2017 collaboration with Anton Powers, ‘Baby’. Regardless, her vocals were flawless and she looked like she was having the time of her life…let’s just hope it won’t be long until a new album emerges!

Ella Eyre

Considering she’s only had one album, Ella Eyre has had a lot of hits, not only through her own tracks but also through her incredible collaborations. The set was packed with notable performances and in fact I could mention them all for different reasons…she was just truly remarkable.

‘Good Times’ followed by ‘Together’ really got the crowd going; ‘LOV(E)’ had some great audience participation elements with a real Caribbean feel to it; her cover of Jermaine Stewart‘s ‘We Don’t Have To Take Our Clothes Off’ was pure perfection and then her final tracks were all some of her most notable collaborations – ‘Waiting All Night’ (originally with Rudimental), ‘Answerphone’ (originally with Banx & Ranx) and it all came to a close with the monster hit ‘Came Here For Love’ (originally with Sigala). Her vibe is very dancehall meets drum & bass topped off with a touch of soul…it was the perfect summer sound to bop around to at this year’s Pride and get everyone warmed up for Britney!

Highlights:

Her vocals were flawless and crowd interaction was top notch.

The songs she performed were perfect – the audience pretty much knew them all and if they didn’t, she taught them to us.

Her use of audience participation was brilliant, particularly on ‘LOV(E)’.

The energy she pours into her performance is truly contagious and certainly got people moving!

Setlist

Good Times* Together LOV(E) Ego We Don’t Have To Take Our Clothes Off (Jermaine Stewart Cover)* Waiting All Night Answer Phone Came Here For Love*

* These songs can be viewed in the YouTube playlist, below.

Britney Spears

BRITNEY. WAS. AMAZING! Sure, she didn’t sing a word live, but when you look past that, her performance was out of this world!

It had everything you could want from a superstar of her calibre; it was fast-paced with high energy, superb choreography, several costume changes, interesting set pieces and video backdrops, a live band and it was packed to bursting point with hit after hit. Including some off her most recent album, Glory, which I was really pleased about!

Her set was further diversified with different versions or intros to some of her hits, such as ‘…Baby, One More Time’ and Toxic’.

With someone like Britney it’s very difficult to pick out favourite performances of tracks as it’s just one big, epic show that you can’t help but enjoy from start to finish but if I had to pick some; ‘Work Bitch’ was an incredible way to start the set and had the audience going wild, ‘Me Against The Music’ had some amazing set pieces just like the music video (cracked walls), ‘Slumber Party’ as the choreography was sexy and the song is just sensational and ‘Till The World Ends’ as the audience were loving every second of it and at the end, the confetti canon exploded with rainbow colours…it was magical!

It is a shame that Britney doesn’t really sing live but there are so many other ways she makes up for it and I still can’t believe she headlined Brighton Pride…it was certainly a performance you did not want to miss!

Highlights:

There really are so many highlights to choose from; the colours, the lights, the sounds, the movements; she is just a sensational performer that puts her every effort into what she does – she’s remarkable!

Oh and Britney getting someone out of the audience to chain up and be a part of the choreography for a song was hilarious!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Setlist

Act I BRITNEY (Introduction) Work Bitch* Womanizer* Break The Ice/Piece Of Me*

Act II Darkness (Interlude) …Baby One More Time/Oops!… I Did It Again

Act III If I’m Dancing (Interlude) Me Against The Music* Gimme More Clumsy/Change Your Mind

Act IV Scream & Shout (will.i.am Interlude)* Boys Do You Wanna Come Over? Work It/Get Ur Freak On/WTF (Where They From) (Dance Interlude)

Act V Get Naked (I Got A Plan) (Interlude) I’m A Slave 4 U Make Me…* Freakshow Do Somethin’

Act VI Magic Circus (Interlude) Circus If U Seek Amy Breathe On Me Slumber Party* Touch Of My Hand

Act VII Jungle Fever (Interlude) Toxic Stronger/(You Drive Me) Crazy*

Encore Till The World Ends*

* These songs can be viewed in the YouTube playlist, below.

Finally, I want to say a massive thanks to the Brighton Pride organisers for putting together such an incredible line-up for this year’s Pride…it was amazing! Now…how the hell are you gonna top Britney next year?!

Enjoyed this? Check out some of our other live reviews here:

Muzik Speaks Live Reviews

Matt – Muzik Speaks www.facebook.com/muzikspeaks www.twitter.com/muzik_speaks

It's been a week since this year's incredible @PrideBrighton event with @BritneySpears and we're reliving it all with our #review (including photos and videos). Please share! #LiveMusic #Pride #BrightonPride #BrightonPride2018 #LGBT Follow @muzik_speaks Tweet to @muzik_speaks On Saturday 4th August 2018, Preston Park was brought to life with the UK's largest, annual Pride Festival and this year was especially huge, with over 57,000 people partying the day away.

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365footballorg-blog · 7 years ago

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'He's like a vacuum, he sucks people in' - what makes Dembele so special?

As a former midfielder, whenever I analyse players in my old position I think about why I would and wouldn’t like to play against them.

With Tottenham’s Mousa Dembele, there is a long list of reasons why he is an opponent I would hate to face.

In the past few weeks he has come up against players of the calibre of Paul Pogba and Nemanja Matic of Manchester United, and Sami Khedira and Miralem Pjanic of Juventus, and has destroyed them all.

Those performances – and the way he played against Liverpool and Arsenal recently – have earned the 30-year-old Belgium international plenty of plaudits, and they are richly deserved.

But Dembele has not always got that kind of recognition. Part of the reason for that is the problems he has had with his fitness, but it is mainly down to the fact he does not get many goals or assists.

Dembele at Spurs (Premier League) 2012-13 2013-14 2014-15 2015-16 2016-17 2017-18 Games 30 28 26 29 30 20 Starts 26 22 10 27 24 14 Minutes 2209 1819 1138 2273 2065 1304 Win % when starting 65.4 63.5 50 55.6 66.7 42.9 Full 90 min games 11 11 2 17 8 5 Subbed off before 75 mins 5 10 5 5 6 3 Goals 1 1 1 3 1 0 Assists 3 1 1 1 1 0

We live in an era when people are obsessed with those statistics but I am not, which is why I have always been a massive fan of Dembele.

When I have watched him or played against him, in games or in training, I know exactly what he is bringing to the table for the team.

And when he is at the top of his game, which he is at the moment, he is one of the best central midfielders in Europe – there is no doubt about that.

‘He had a gift but was seen as a frustrating player’

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I was still at Tottenham when Dembele joined the club, but before that I played against him when he was at Fulham.

He was a right-winger when he first came to the Premier League, before Cottagers boss Martin Jol moved him to central midfield.

When we signed him, you could tell immediately in training that he had a gift and a talent but he seemed to be viewed as a frustrating player – someone who lacked an end product.

I think that was down to people not really understanding what his game was about.

There was always a demand for more goals and assists from him, but he is so selfless they are not at the forefront of his mind.

It is what he does for his team-mates, and how he does it, that makes him so special.

‘He sucks in all the pressure and releases the ball at the perfect time’

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Dembele is very good technically. His passing ability is a big part of his game, and he is not the type of player to just play safe balls.

You only have to watch him to see how often he finds Christian Eriksen in the opposition half, for example, but that is not a case of him just looking up and finding Eriksen because they have got a great relationship on the pitch.

The reason Eriksen is able to find the amount of space he does in those areas is purely and simply down to the amount of players Dembele draws towards him with his dribbling ability – he can hold on to the ball while taking two or three opposition players out of the game.

Against Juventus, when he went past Khedira, it brought another player out of position because Pjanic would have to try to close him down. He would go past him too, and then Eriksen would be free to take the pass.

The way he does that, Dembele is like a vacuum – he just sucks in all the pressure and then releases the ball at the perfect time.

If you try to get tight to him, he is strong enough to hold you off and has the ability to look at you and go past you in the blink of an eye.

If you drop off him, he is happy too. He can sit deep in front of the back four and dictate the tempo from there.

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I can understand why Spurs boss Mauricio Pochettino praises him so much because, with Dembele in the team, the game goes as fast or as slow as he wants it to.

The only worry you don’t have when you are playing against him is that he is going to score goals, but that does not matter if he is dominating games the way he has been doing – and he is a nightmare to stop.

When I was in Turin watching him against Juve, I was just thinking how brilliant he was, but also feeling sorry for his Spurs team-mate Eric Dier, who is likely to have to go up against him when England play Belgium in the World Cup.

Dier will know every single thing there is to know about Dembele, but that is still not going to help him much when they meet in Kalingrad on 28 June.

‘Spurs cannot survive on 60 minutes of Dembele any more’

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Tottenham’s past four games in the Premier League and Champions League – against United, Liverpool, Arsenal and Juventus – have been some of the pivotal moments of their season.

They beat United, and won the north London derby, and earned impressive draws against Liverpool and Juve. Each time, Dembele was their best player.

It has also been a big moment for him because he has started all of those matches, something that has not happened very often since he joined the club for £15m in August 2012.

Tottenham in all competitions since Dembele joined in August 2012 Total games 309 Games Dembele has played in 226 (73%) Games Dembele has started 163 (53%) Games Dembele has played 90 minutes 78 (25%)

His injury problems, especially with a long-standing foot injury that required surgery last summer, have been well documented and the player himself admitted last July that he will never be 100% fit.

He has had a lot of injuries in his time at Tottenham (41, according to experts PhysioRoom) but not many of them have been serious enough to require a long lay-off.

In that time he has missed more than four consecutive matches on only three occasions, and never more than eight in a row, but at the same time those problems have still meant he has played 90 minutes in only 25% of Tottenham’s games. It must have been very frustrating for him.

As a player, you often play through injuries that restrict your fitness, and I remember when Dembele went through a period where he was coming off at about the hour mark in a lot of matches, even the big ones.

But it appears Pochettino and the Spurs staff have worked really hard with him so he is able to play at his peak level for 90 minutes, or near enough, which is what they need from him.

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By the way he has been using him, it looks like the manager has finally looked at him and said, ‘you are ready, it is time to get you out there to do what you do best’.

Now Spurs just need him to continue. If they are going to achieve anything this season, he will be at the forefront of it – he has already shown us that.

Jermaine Jenas was speaking to BBC Sport’s Chris Bevan.

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BBC Sport – Football

'He's like a vacuum, he sucks people in' – what makes Dembele so special? was originally published on 365 Football

#&039He&039s #Dembele #in&039 #like #makes #people #special #sucks #vacuum

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unpopcorned · 7 years ago

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“Hey, ‘Sika, you seen my headphones?”

“I’ve been home - like, six minutes and you’re already asking.”

“Y’seen ‘em or not?”

Masika shrugs a shoulder, pulls a lavender shirt from her suitcase and tosses it onto the bed, “In the living room. By the recliner.”

“Thanks,” Even with her telling him, Sam still lingers in the doorway of her old room, eyeing her. He’s gone through another growth spurt, a little over six feet now. It looks like he hasn’t really gotten used to it - hands and feet still a little too big. She can’t help but wondering when he’ll stop shooting up, he’s twenty now, “You like it out there?”

“Out where?”

“In the city. All those people. College.”

She shrugs again, nonplussed, “Yeah. Why? You thinking about it?”

“Maybe,” he’s never been the decisive type, he bites at his upper lip uncertainly. He looks like dad when he makes that face, “Ma’s been on my ass ‘bout it.”

“You sit around all day, I don’t blame her.”

“I don’t sit around all day. I got a job.”

“Doin’ what?”

“Burger place. Darius hooked me up.”

Her hands slow - carefully, she continues folding the pair of jeans in her hands, looking up to meet his eyes, “Darius? You been hanging out with Darius?”

“Not really. Andre and Steph lemme come around though,” He leans against her doorway. Masika knows her brother well - he’s a little more introverted than her and Kurt, she can’t imagine him around someone as loud as Andre. But she doesn’t say that, she’s not the older sibling here, even if she may feel as though she is sometimes, “They cool.”

“You like the job?”

“Nah, not really.”

“Mmm,” Masika nods, folds another shirt onto the bed - she’s planning to move the pile into the dresser soon, “You should start lookin’ online. If you wait around for somethin’ to happen, you’re gonna end up like Gran.”

“Y’say that all the time.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He’s already waving her off, leaving her bedroom to go and search what he came for in the first place. Masika exhales, pushes curly hair from her forehead - her room had always been the most stuffy, the heat blowing at full wasn’t helping any. Sometimes, she doesn’t understand Sam. No initiative, no motivation, she doesn’t know where it came from. There’s only so much she can do or say, he seems like the type that would be comfortable where he is now for the rest of his life.

She supposes nothing is wrong with that. At least, for him. Sometimes, she has a hard time believing they’re brother and sister.

Masika does a slow once over of her old bedroom - it still looks the same. Purple wallpaper with butterflies, matching dresser and tan carpet. A few posters and awards here and there. Mostly for academics. And then she spots her graduation picture on the far wall - her smiling face, Andre next to her, along with his ex-girlfriend and her classmate Dondria. Seems like a long time ago now.

By the time she leaves her room, the sun is already setting. She’d hoped to be out of the house much sooner, at least before her father got home. When she enters the kitchen, the first person she spots is her mother finishing up her homemade casserole, Uncle Eli was sitting at the table, a piece of half-eaten garlic bread in front of him. Masika passes by the couch in the living room, Sam is sitting there with his headphones in his ears, laptop in front of him ( Masika doesn’t know how that thing still manages to run ).

“You’re finished? Already?” Her mother asks when she gets close enough. Masika tries to reach over and swipe some food, it results in a swift pop to the back of her hand, “You better not have left any clothes laying around.”

“I didn’t,” Masika grouses, rubs at her finger.

“Good,” She looks back towards Elijah, “Are you going to stay for dinner?”

He shrugs, exchanging a look with his niece, “I should start headin’ back. Got lots of paperwork to finish.”

“You’re always workin’. Stay and eat. What would Mama say?” He looks close to rolling his eyes, and Tatiana glances at Masika, “Go and wash up for dinner. Your dad will be home in a minute.”

Masika’s shoulders tense up, “Actually...I was gonna go eat somewhere else.”

“Oh, yeah? Where?” Her mother’s thin eyebrows have picked up high on her forehead.

Masika avoids her eyes, “Darius’.”

“Ohhhh,” Obviously, Sam’s earplugs must’ve not been very high, he pulls one from his ear, grinning in their direction, “You still tryin’ to get with Darius? Outta your league, sis.”

“More like the other way around,” Her mother mutters, to which Elijah shrugs at, “That boy still at his mama’s house.”

“So is Sam,” Masika points out, irritated, “You don’t nag at him.”

“Sam is a child.”

“He’s older than me!”

Speaking of her brother, he’s entered the kitchen now, carefully balancing his laptop with one hand. Hopefully, it doesn’t fall - Masika doubts their parents will buy another one, “You liiiiike Darius. You like Dariiiuus. You wanna kiiiiiss him, you wanna fuuuuck him--”

“Samuel!”

“My bad, ma’.”

Masika swats at her brother’s shoulder, he skillfully dodges, “Shut up.”

“Good comeback, sis. You ain’t denyin’ it though.”

“I do not like Darius.”

“Good,” Elijah grunts from the table, “You could do better.”

Before Masika can protest, her mother is already speaking up, “What happened to that cute boy from your school? What was his name - Tyler?”

Masika’s nose wrinkles up, immediately she shakes her head, “He didn’t like my music.”

“Means he’s got good tastes,” Masika tries to hit her brother again, he sticks garlic bread into his mouth and flees back to the living room, “You missed!”

“Don’t you think you’re a little too concerned with that, Masika? It’s a pattern here, baby. First, Jermaine, then Gregory, Len, now Tyler--”

“Which one is Jermaine?” Elijah has looked up from his watch, which he’d been checking randomly, “Did you bring him home?”

“I never bring any of them home. You know why? ‘Cause they’re--” She catches the look her mother gives her, “‘cause they’re jerks.”

“You gotta put all your attention on a man. If you don’t, you ain’t gonna keep one.”

“Tati, don’t tell her no bullshit like that--”

“It ain’t! It’s the truth. Put yourself out there, sweetheart. One-hundred percent. You putting music over finding a good man ain’t gonna do any good for you...”

By then, Masika has already tuned them out. She nods subconsciously along with her mother’s words, it’s turned into ( “blah blah blah blah blah and another thing, blah blah” ) before Masika finally speaks up again, “Ma’, I’m gonna be late.”

“Fine, fine. You’re missin’ out though. Be back by ten.”

“Sure.” Maybe even later, if it meant not seeing her father’s face. She’d prefer to avoid him at all costs. There’s a chilling breeze when she makes it outside, Masika shrugs on her thick jacket, down the stairs of the porch and walking past Uncle Eli’s old car. Each stone on the sidewalk is different - some chipped at the ends, some with graffiti, some with chalk drawings, a line of them with a faded hopscotch board, Masika half-assed does it, nearly trips on the last one.

“Masika! Sweetie, is that you?”

It’s a familiar voice, Masika turns her head in its direction, lighting up when she sees Old Miss Patricia sitting on her porch, rocking back and forth on her old chair. Masika walks over, lingers by the steps, the elder woman watches her, bright brown eyes and all. Even with her husband passing away a few years ago, she still manages a smile.

“Hey, Mrs. G,” Masika stops on the second porch step, “You doin’ alright?”

The woman nods, she’s smiling down at her, “Mhmm. Diabetes messin’ up a little, but I’m good. Real good. Better seein’ you, baby. How’re you?”

“I’m great,” she replies, “Can’t complain, you know?”

“You gotten so big...” She’s staring at her, a fond look in her eyes, “I just saw Sam the other day, I remember when he was this big,” She makes a vague gesture with her thin hand, a few inches from the ground, “And that - that boy that used to come around here...”

“Andre?”

“No, no...that boy - that boy needs to learn some manners, Andre,” She shakes her head, “Always walkin’ around with a new girl, every time I see him.”

“You gotta stop spying out your window, Mrs. G. It’ll just make you angry.”

“Mmm...but - that boy. That used to come around here. Devin...DeQuan...”

“Darius?”

“Yes! HIm. I saw him and we were talking. Such a sweet boy. He’s gotten so big too. I told him - he needs to do somethin’ about that hair. I never seen a boy with so much hair...”

“Yeah,” Masika’s smiling, looking down to her shoes and then back to Mrs. G, “You’re taking care of yourself, right? I’m here for a couple weeks, I can come around and help you clean the house.”

“I’m fine, baby. Thank you. Your mama comes over here all the time. She’s trying to make me fat.”

With how much weight she has lost, Masika doesn’t blame her. But still, she keeps her smile. They only talk for a few moments longer, Masika makes a mental note to stop by again and help how she could, whether Mrs. G wanted it or not, “Mrs. G, don’t stay out here all night, okay? It’s gonna get cold.”

The elder woman only waves her off. So, Masika will be sure to check on her when she’s heading home later. Darius’ house is a few blocks away - farther than it was before since her parents had recently moved into a house with better plumbing. On her way there, she spots a police car slowly making its way down the street, graffiti on the wall of an old store, a group of men lingering outside of a liquor place.

As much as she’d missed home, it’s a little easy not to miss it as well.

A knock on the door, she hears muffled voices from inside - probably the television. Mrs. Jordan looks as pretty as ever when she answers the door. Pretty, but still very tired. The bags under her eyes never seem to disappear, no matter how many years pass.

“Masika?” Her expression lifts, she looks surprised and then beyond happy. She opens the door quickly, taking Masika into an almost too-tight hug, “Hey, baby girl! You look - I mean...” She holds Masika at arms’ length to get a better look at her, “How long it’s been, hm?”

“Few months,” Masika is practically beaming - Mrs. Jordan was definitely like a second mother to her, there was no denying that, “How’re you?”

“Good, I’m doing good. Still got a full house,” she drops her hands, looks at Masika in slight awe before she twists her mouth lightly to the side, “Y’know, you always show up at the most terrible times, girl. I got called into work, late shift. But we need to catch up.”

“My mom is having Sunday dinner this weekend. If you wanna come--”

“Of course. I’ll be there. I’ll bring the boys--Oh! Hurry up and come inside before it gets cold,” She pulls Masika inside of the house, and Masika quickly disposes of her shoes and jacket. The smell is homey, brings back old memories of crayons and running until you’re out of breath and cooking late at night, “Had to drop the boys off at my mother’s for the weekend, peace and quiet. Finally.”

Masika steps further into the room, spots someone moving out of the kitchen.

Mrs. Jordan puts her hands on her hips, “Darius! Come and say hi, boy.”

Darius looks the same, just like the last time she’d seen him. A couple times, she’d came to see him out of worry, after the funeral. Masika shifts in spot, looks at him expectantly. He doesn’t disappoint, as soon as he sees her, this cheesy grin comes to her face - a familiar smile, a bittersweet smile - and he’s stepping forward to hug her tight, rocking them both side to side.

“’Ey, Miss College.”

“Oh, ha-ha,” When he pulls away slightly, Masika grips his shoulders, looking him up and down, “You getting taller?”

“Nah, nah,” he looks close to laughing and he does - he’s gained some of his weight back, she can tell, “Your brother like a pole, though.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Maybe you gettin’ shorter.”

“Yeah? I’m gettin’ shorter.”

“Your hair’s all big - tryin’ to create an illusion and everythin’.”

“Boy--”

“Look at you two, hm?” Mrs. Jordan hasn’t left yet, she’s standing off to the side, watching them, “Remember when you guys used to build forts all over the room with the covers and--”

“Maaaaaa’,” Darius lightly complains, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling.

“I’m just sayin’! You two are so cute--Lemme get my camera real quick--”

“You gonna be late,” Darius tells her, almost laughing, “Ma’, c’mon.”

“Okay, okay,” His mother is already grabbing her purse and jacket. She gives both Masika and Darius kisses to the cheek, “I’ll be back later, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, ma’.” Darius watches her leave, closes the door after her. Masika begins to look around - things are still the same. A laundry basket in the corner, the same couch, TV in front of it, shoes almost everywhere. His mother still keeps things as clean as possible, even with four boys. It’s kind of amazing, “How long you in town for?”

Masika turns to face him, he’s making his way slowly over to her side, hands deep in his pockets. She shrugs a shoulder, “Mom wants me to stay a couple weeks. Might not.”

Darius eyes her for a few seconds, “'Cause your pops?”

“Yeah.” It’s nothing new - her dad wasn’t her favorite person in the world. She places her bag on the end of the couch, glancing towards a particularly photo on the wall - it’s of Darius, maybe around seven or eight, standing over a birthday cake, his mother looks younger in the photo. Younger, but still very tired, “You...doing okay?”

Their eyes meet, Darius stares at her. Then snorts some, thumbs at the corner of his mouth, “You ain’t--” A pause, “You ain’t gotta ask me that.” She remains silent, licks at her lips, “You ain’t gotta treat me like - y’know.”

“I know,” She tells him, her voice has quieted, “Sorry I haven’t been around.”

“It’s cool. Y’busy, Masika,” he moves past her, and she turns around to follow his every movement. He sits onto the couch, putting a notebook on the end table beside him.

“What if I say I’m not too busy for you?” She’s teasing, coming to his right to sit next to him. The couch dips slightly under her weight - the springs are so old.

He looks at her again, amused, “Yeah, you funny. Got jokes.”

She gets comfortable beside him, leaning the side of her head into her palm, “Mrs. G was talkin’ about you today.”

“Yeah, I be goin’ over there to help with her yard. She always outside. Her daughter was there the other day--”

“Diamond?”

He nods, “Talking about moving her into a home.”

Masika frowns, leans forward slightly, “Really?”

“Yeah, sucks.” He’s quiet for a moment, “You gone by Andre’s?”

Masika almost rolls her eyes, “Why? Has he done something?”

“Messin’ around with Lexi, from down the street.”

“Alexis Mitchell? The one with--”

“Yeah, yeah, her. Sayin’ she pregnant and shit. Andre been duckin’ and dodgin’ at different people’s house. Watch out for him.” Darius looks as if he’s about to laugh, the white of his teeth is stark against his skin.

“First of all, she’s tripping. You know how many times Lex has said she’s pregnant? Please. Why is Andre even with her? Wasn’t his friend with her a few months ago?”

“Jared? Yeah. I don’t get mixed up in all of it. Andre stay wilding out, man.” They talk for a little while longer, darting from subject to subject, no limits to what could and couldn’t be spoken over. Masika crosses her legs underneath her, leaning closer to try and grab the notebook on the other side of him. He catches her upper body before she can, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her sternum, “No touchin’.”

“I won’t touch it if you show me,” Masika tells him, feigning innocence when he gives her a look, “C’moooooon, you’ve had that for years. Lemme see!”

“You nosy,” he says, but he doesn’t seem annoyed by it, “Personal shit in there.”

“Mhmmm,” she manages to get a hold of it, twists her body away when he tries to half-hearted snatch it from her grip. Masika opens the notebook - the pages are frayed at the ends, old and worn, some had dog-ear bookmark on the corners, some words crossed out and replaced, entire pages filled with scribbled writing over and over again. She has to keep leaning away from Darius, he tries to round her side and take it from her again, but she’s quicker.

It takes a few minutes, she manages to skim through the majority of it. Some words stand out, she’s whispering quietly to herself as she reads.

“Darius...this is--”

“It ain’t nothin’--”

“--so good!” She turns to him in one energetic movement, he has to move back to avoid getting hit with her hair, “You wrote all these, right? Are they songs--” She inhales sharply, “Poems? Oh, my god, why didn’t you ever show me this?”

“Ain’t a big deal, come on,” he tries to take it again, she holds it away quickly. He shifts underneath her look, almost looks nervous, “It’s not like - it’s worth showin’ or some shit.”

“That’s what you think?” She stares up at him, brown eyes bright, “It’s worth seeing. And more than that, you should publish stuff like this.”

He smiles some, turns his face away so she can’t see it fully, “Stop messin’ around. Niggas don’t do shit like that.”

“They don’t do shit like that because they don’t use their heads, Darius. You do. Take advantage,” He still looks unsure, hands are back in his pockets, he’s not trying to take it from her anymore, “I don’t blame you for writing, you know. With everything that’s happened, makes things more easier.”

He looks towards her again, and she stands from the couch, right in front of him, holding out the notebook to him. Darius takes it, pressing his lips together briefly, keeps his head ducked but meets her eyes.

“When I started writing, my dad kept throwing out all my notebooks. Even if I hid them,” she says quietly, “and whenever I went out and bought more, he’d take out his belt and yell. Said singing should only be in the church...Point is, I didn’t need him to believe in me or nothin’. I did it myself.”

Darius smiles again, looks a bit bashful and amused, “Yeah? Y’takin’ public speaking at that school too?”

“What would you know about public speaking?”

“Know it’s a class.”

She watches him, seems to be thinking for a few seconds before she suddenly lights up, “Come to my Spoken Word show tomorrow night. It’s for the November Poetry Slam. Downtown.”

He’s almost immediate with his response, “What time? I’ll come--”

“And perform?”

“Masika--”

“Please, please, pleeeeeease, it’ll be so much fun, Darius! You’ll love it!”

He shakes his head while she speaks, “Not my thing. I wanna watch you though, you fly with it.”

“Pleeeease, c’mon. You can’t say no. You can’t say no or I’ll get mad--”

“Mad?”

“Yeah!” He’s trying to hold her away when she pulls teasingly on one of his braids, gripping her thin wrists in his hands, and she’s smiling, stumbling towards him clumsily, almost bumping chests. The difference in height is apparent, she has to tilt her head up to look at him, and he’s smiling too - face close to hers. Her smile falls once she notices the proximity, “Yeah...I’ll get...mad...”

Her words are trailed off, really quiet.

He’s staring at her, the smile has fallen, “...missed havin’ you around.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” A pause, “Weird - I mean, you not bein’ here. It’s weird.”

“Sorry.”

“You ain’t gotta apologize, Masi--”

The door opens, sound of boots hitting the floor, Andre stops when he sees them, eyebrows high on his head. It takes a moment, but Masika gets the look - jerking backwards when she notices how close she is to Darius. Darius, on the other hand, looks annoyed, jams his hands into his jean pockets.

“Y’don’t know how to knock, nigga? Y’hands broke?”

“Nah,” Andre is grinning, making his way over to him, “You know what kinda neighborhood this is, don’t leave y’door unlocked.” And then his eyes are back on her, “What’s up, ‘Sika? When you get back?”

“This mornin’,” She crosses her arms over her chest, fixing him with a look, “And I heard about Lexi.”

Immediately, his smile is gone, he throws an accusatory glance at Darius, “Why you goin’ and telling everybody for?”

“It ain’t everybody. It’s Masika,” Darius sits back onto the couch, leaning back, placing his notebook back where it belongs.

“Man, that hoe ain’t shit. She been chasin’ me around, saying she pregnant for weeks now. Ain’t no baby, ain’t no stomach,” Andre argues, annoyed.

“Some women don’t start showing until at least three to five months,” Masika tells him offhandedly, “Why’re you even messing with her like that? I thought you and Drea were working it out.”

“Fuck her, too. She’s crazy - callin’ my mama’s house and hanging up all the time. She’s bugging.” Then he shrugs, “Females be all over me once they get a taste, you already know--”

“Man, shut y’corny ass up.” Darius says from the couch.

“Fuck you,” He flips him off, “Just mad ‘cause you ain’t pullin’ any. Ain’t like Miss Christian College over here offerin’ anything.” He gestures towards Masika lazily.

Before she can say anything, Darius lobs a couch pillow at him, hitting Andre square in the head, “Fuck you. Don’t talk ‘bout her like that.” It reminds her of when they were kids - Darius more of the leader in their group, Andre always joking around and playing subtle pranks until he got in trouble, Masika following both of them blindly ( the youngest of the group ).

“Alright, alright. Chill, damn,” Andre catches the pillow, grumbling under his breath. He looks towards Masika again, “You kickin’ it tonight?”

“No, gotta head home soon. Eat dinner.”

“You talkin’ to your dad?” Andre asks, curious.

“No,” Masika and Darius answer at the same time, she continues speaking, “But I can’t keep avoiding him.” As she talks, she grabs her bag from the couch, glancing at Darius, “Tomorrow night, eight.”

“Yeah, I got it, I’ll be there.”

“And you will perform--”

“Nah.”

“Darius.”

“Masika.” He uses the same tone as her, grinning briefly when she shoots him an irritated look, “I’ll be there. I ain’t seen you sing in awhile.”

She blows out air, rolls her eyes, “Fine. Bring your notebook.” Masika moves past Andre, he’s curiously watching their exchange, he follows after her, watching as she slips on her shoes, “What?”

“Spot me a twenty.”

“What - no. Ask Darius to give you some cash.”

“I already said no,” Darius says from the front room, Andre glares back in his direction, “Man, take y’begging ass home.”

“And take care of Alexis, if word gets to your mom, you’re going to be in trouble.” Masika says to him, narrowing her eyes at his surprised look, “I’ll tell her myself.”

“Don’t! Don’t, okay? I’ll handle it.”

“Good,” She leans around him, calling out briefly, “Darius, see you tomorrow.” She hears his reply, muffled - he probably went to the kitchen or bathroom, and she leaves Andre there in the doorway.

Masika rolls over in bed when she hears steps heading in the direction of her room, pulls the covers up to nearly cover her head. Like she expects, the door opens - she can see the familiar shadow cast across the length of the wall.

“...Masika?”

It’s her father’s voice. She hadn’t gotten the chance to see him, purposely roamed outside just so she wouldn’t make it back in time for dinner. Everyone was already in bed by time she’d arrived.

“Are you awake?”

She curls up tighter, forcibly closes her eyes. It’s silence for a few seconds. And then the door closes. Masika listens as his steps get further and further away.

“Waiting for someone?”

Masika looks up at the voice, spots Craig standing there, pulling out his earphones when he gets close enough to her. She gives a half-hearted smile, toys with the cross-necklace around her neck, “Uh, yeah. I am.”

“A...guy, maybe?” He shifts closer, settles along the wall.

Masika continues to look at the door, more people file in - but not who she was looking for, “Yeah. Best friend.”

“Best friend? The one you talked about before.”

“Yeah.”

“Darius, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure he’s comin’?”

She looks up at this, away from the door. Frowning lightly up at him, she says, “Yes. He is. He always comes.” Craig backs off slightly at her tone, both of them only looking up when Masika hears a call of her name, “Frankie, you made it.”

“Of course I did, girl,” She hugs Masika, lightly bumping Craig out of the way in the process. In her ear, she whispers, “Is he bothering you again?”

“Nope,” Masika’s voice is just as quiet as hers, only raising in volume when Frankie pulls away, “You auditioning for a nineties movie?” She tilts her head, motioning to Frankie’s long braids.

“Look, not everyone can have curly white girl hair like you,” Frankie tells her, “Plus, work been killin’ my ass.”

“I’ll get my mom to do your hair.”

“With her heavy hand? Hell no, girl.”

Craig leans over in their conversation more, “’Sika, you gotta be up in a second. Think they’re about to close the doors.”

She blinks, looks up, “Wait. No. Do not close the doors yet. Fifteen more minutes.” Craig looks incredulous, but he doesn’t have time to argue with her, she’s already pulling Frankie towards the stage with her - fluffing out her own hair and fixing her shirt, “Darius isn’t here yet.”

“Which one? The Jordan’s? Jesus, how many kids she got?” Frankie mumbles, helping Masika with her hair, “Too many.”

“Four boys,” Masika proclaims, “I don’t think there’s such a thing as too many.”

“Yeah, says the girl that wants like fifty kids. You gonna live in a shoe, bitch? Psh, puh-lease,” She finishes quickly, glances at the curtains, and then back to Masika. The crowd has already formed - Masika can smell the smoke, the coffee, leather from the old seats, soft music playing, “Ready?”

“Make sure they don’t close the doors, okay?” Masika begs, “Not yet.”

“Masika, you know they close ‘em at nine.”

“Please. Pretty please, Francesca.”

Frankie makes a face, “Never say my full name again and we got a deal.”

“Thanks a bunch,” Masika kisses her cheek before she gets on stage, before people get too bored with Craig’s long list of dad jokes he seems to have ( even though he’s twenty one and doesn’t have any kids ). Even in the short amount of time she has back in her home town, she still managed to get booked for the opening act for the show.

Her mother could not make it. Sam wasn’t interested. Kurt was out of the country. Elijah was working. Her father - well, everyone knows how that conversation would’ve went. But even so - she still sings to her heart’s content, there isn’t much that can stop her. She’d learned that a long time ago.

Most of the time, when she does sing, her eyes are closed. Towards the bridge of the song, she opens them - and she finds Darius there, towards the back of the club, along the wall and away from the crowd. He makes this half-shrug at her as a hello.

Masika smiles through the rest of her song.

“You. Were. Late.”

She punctuates every one of her words with pokes to his arm. Darius grins, facing her. The club is relatively empty by now, besides Craig speaking to the supervisor. Frankie had left earlier - right in the middle of the poetry portion of the show. She’d mostly come to hear Masika sing and for support, so she wasn’t bothered by it.

“Yeah. Got held up at work. My bad.”

“I’m kidding,” Masika breathes, “It’s fine. Really. I’m just glad you came. You know how weird it is performing on campus and you’re not there? It’s like I’m missing something.”

“You did good,” He pauses, looks down at the table they’re occupying, “...missed hearin’ you sing.”

A smile blooms across her face slowly, “Really?”

“Yeah, ‘course. It’s like what you said - somethin’ missing, you know?” She does know. Watches him, one elbow on the table, hand balancing her head. When he notices her staring, he looks at her again, “Wha’cha lookin’ at?”

“You. Waiting.”

“For?”

She nudges her head towards the empty stage, giving a smile when he immediately begin to shake his head, “Please, Darius. I would die happy.”

“Why you pressin’ me about this?”

“‘Cause you’re good. So good. And I know that from just lookin’ through your notebook for two seconds,” When he makes a light scoffing noise, she leans closer, “Just - try it. I promise it’ll feel much better coming out. It’s one thing to write it; another thing to say it out loud.”

“That’s why I write it. So I don’t gotta say it.”

“Darius,” She’s staring at him again, expression soft and open, “...for me?” Darius visibly hesitates, picks at the napkin in front of him; steadily tearing it into little pieces throughout the conversation. He looks around - as if he’s looking for anyone he knows, anyone that might say something to him or stare for too long.

It takes awhile. Maybe six minutes of coaxing, he doesn’t go to the stage, but it’s a step in the right direction. He clears his throat, picks at the napkin scraps more, “Can it be somethin’ - old or whatever? Wrote it a long time ago.”

“Yeah,” she nods fast, continuing to watch him, “Whatever you want.”

He looks at her again, as if searching for something, so she reaches over and touches the back of his hand with her fingers, soon clasping their hands together. It’s a slow process, he can’t really look at her - she can tell - and he stares at the wall across the room, then drops his eyes to their hands.

Inhales. And finally, his mouth opens.

#masika #writings

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g-castel · 8 years ago

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My Top 10 Albums of 2016

I've been wanting to post this since January 1st lol, but I never got around to it haha. I need to be better about blogging. Well, I figured that since we are halfway through 2017 it would be good to share, once again, my top 10 albums of the year (last year). I've been doing this annually for a while now and it's been fun for me. Take a read if you'd like!

Top 10 + Honorable Mentions

Honorable Mentions

-Signs of Light (Head and the Heart)

-24K Magic (Bruno Mars)

-A Seat at the Table (Solange Knowles)

-WALLS (Kings of Leon)

-The Hamilton Mixtape (Various Artists)

-The Life of Pablo (Kanye West)

-Coming Home (Leon Bridges)

-Views (Drake)

-This is Acting (Sia)

-There’s A Lot Going On (Vic Mensa)

-22, A Million (Bon Iver)

-Telluric (Matt Corby)

-Wild World (Bastille)

-Bobby Tarantino (Logic)

-Oh My My (OneRepublic)

-Stranger Things, Vol. 1 (Kyle Dixon and Michael Stein)

Passion, Pain, and Demon Slayin’ (Kid Cudi)

A Moonshaped Pool (Radiohead)

Farewell, Starlite (Francis and the Lights)

Starboy (The Weeknd)

Sunlit Youth (The Local Natives)

indicates nearly making my list haha

Top 10

10. Home of the Strange

Young the Giant

The third studio album for Young the Giant, Home of the Strange, to me has pushed the band to become one that I will continue to listen to for the rest of my life. They are able to create a good range of styles. I think HOTS is able to listened to in so many different settings.

This California band has focused on the phenomenon of the diversity in ethnicity that the band possesses. The lead singer being, Indian-American, and other members being from across the globe plays a part in the album’s theme and dynamic.

I was super happy with songs like “Something to Believe In” (which sounds so perfect for a live performance) and “Titus Was Born”. If you are about to take a listen to Young the Giant for your first times, start from their first pieces of art and move towards their latest piece of art and you will see a fitting a beautiful revolution.

Also, go ahead and head to their Youtube channel where they post the “In the Open” videos that are stripped versions of their music and it’s record so raw and simple. Those videos have inspired me to do video work for music as well!

9. The Colour in Anything

James Blake

The music in James Blake’s album, just like before, is the some of the most unique current music. I have not found other songs out there that sound anything like his other than Bon Iver and Radiohead’s music this year.

So, so, so weird. if you’re gonna go listen this, because I said I like it, please be warned, it doesn’t mean you will, like you might hate it actually, and that’s okay. We tend to adhere to sounds that’s familiar and that coincides with our minds. This album, if you haven’t been a listener of James Blake’s previous works, will not do that for you. There are some odd sounds, weird time signatures changes, and he sings once again with beast vocoder vocals! Sometimes there are some horror silences behind nasally high frequency vocals.

It sounds like I am somewhat shoving you away from listening to this. However, do not get me wrong, I love The Colour in Anything!

Favorite Songs:

Meet You In the Maze

Points.

The random interruptions of repeated lyrics into silence are interesting and I think they reflect perhaps the character of Blake or the anybody out there who shares the stories and feelings written in his lyrics. They’re brash and the noises are loud. & I DIG it.

8. Georgica Pond

Johnnyswim

Johnnyswim. The (Latin) American folk soul pop-duo have returned this year with a banger of an album. I think personally that this is the best work that they have done. This couple are two incredibly talented musicians and they’re chemistry in and out of the booth is something like the dynamic of a Shaq and Kobe.

“The longer you’re out on the road, it gets nicer to have [Abner Ramirez] there. Because he’s the closest thing to home I have,” Johnnyswim’s Amanda Sudano says. “Home is where he is.”

I watched the videos that they shared on Youtube giving commentary on a couple of the songs that were a part of the album. They talked about the process in the studio and the inspirations behind songs like “Drunks” and “Touching Heaven”. One thing I picked up from what they attempt to maintain is the loyalty to the authenticity of the craft.

This was an album that I listened continuously for maybe three straight weeks. I went through phases were song after song became my new favorite. That happens a lot of times when the record is good from start to finish.

I want to be friends with them, simple as that.

#goals

7. THREE

Phantogram

I was introduced to them years ago by my brother, who I could honestly give credit to for a lot of the music I listen to now. This album, THREE, yes, in all caps, was music that I had no clue they had in them.

I definitely used a few tracks on this album for workouts. This is the album that this year I felt comfortable bumpin with both my more conserved buddies and also with some of my hood friends. After Phantogram released some music with as Big Grams in the past, you can surely feel the influence of Big Boi, a former member of the hip hop legendary group, OutKast. The 808s on songs like “You’re Mine” and “Cruel World” are so fulfilling.

One song from this album you’ve probably heard if you haven’t heard of any of the songs on the list is the song “You Don’t Get Me High Anymore” They collaborated with other people to produce such a fire beat. The lyrics are weird and polarizing but that’s what’s great about it

On release day, I went through the entire record as I usually do with music and immediately sent Phantogram a fan girl tweet. I just had to tell them that they nailed this one and it is probably their best work yet.

6. Birds in the Trap Sing McKnight

Travis Scott

S’il vous plais. Those in favor of auto-tune, or at least okay with listening to it and not being baffled by the off-the-(traditional hip-hop)-wall that it is, take your time to listen to a few tracks of this album by the G.O.O.D. Music prodigy, Travis Scott.

I just know in 2017, this man Travis is going to blow UP! I do not know in what way, whether it’s with his music, or with his involvement with big name fashion clothing lines, he will find his way into having you know his name. It’s just the loud and abrasive nature that he possesses.

Birds in the Trap Sing McKnight to me was like a real intro to the world, though it isn’t his first album. When Ye signed him, he was doing a bunch of writing and waiting his turn to get on the map. Kanye finally did what he does best and gave him more pushes and connections. I’ve never seen someone with so much energy. Hip hop gone be alright.

Usually, I listen to albums from front to back, but I know that’s not how everyone does it. So, if you do not have much time and want to take a peek of the record, check out these three, “goosebumps, through the late night, and way back”.

5. The Human Condition

Jon Bellion

Mr. Jon Bellion, out of New York, is the next Chad Hugo, No I.D., and Timberland, all put together, who also sings and raps on the music he produces. Riding that “come up wave”, he will be a name that pretty soon will have a bigger font size on next summer’s festival lineups, guaranteed.

This early 20s MC, is just a pure talent to say the least, and outside his talent, is seemingly a phenomenal character. He has worked so hard to make it to where he is in his music career, but has managed to stay as humble as he was when he was making beats in his college dorm room. The Human Condition was crafted and along with Bellion is the band, A Beautiful Mind, who were all buddies who have all committed to sticking together if one of them made it big in the industry which is such a noble thing to see. They have a natural chemistry.

Bellion says a lot of the people who inspired his sounds were the Neptunes, Kanye, and derivation.

So I can’t write this without giving one person credit for introducing me to him. My roommate Jeff did everything he could that season to make sure the whole world new about Jon Bellion. He played songs from previous EPs to prepare for the album release over and over. While he showered, I could here the songs including the pre-release singles. We ended up seeing Bellion live…twice actually.

I’m excited for his future, collaborations, and ideas he execute to change the way people see music. He’s got that much potential in my opinion. The dude is straight out of New York. If you haven’t heard the album yet, let me just tell you it is very evident. Jon Bellion is a multitalented artist. He’s got his hands on everything, being well-versed with the keys, vocals, and he’s got some bars too. He’ll break it down with the MPC pad too like his idol Kanye. Even on stage during his tour, homie would bring the pad to center stage and loop up the layers of his songs and the sing over the top of it brilliantly.

Bellion’s, like many of us, is also a closet nerd and loves cartoons and animation. One of his big dreams, which he might as well soon see come into fruition is to work with Pixar on scoring a film. I hope this happens! He’s a dreamer, he’s got a newfound faith, and has got a colossal muse. This artist is someone who is just peeking his head out of his egg and we have no idea what he will do once he starts flying.

4. 4 Your Eyez Only

J. Cole

This album is the cure.

Mr. Jermaine Cole. He is such an people’s person. I liked the fact that after he finished touring for 2014 Forest Hills Drive, he said “I’m out.” He had a withdrawal from the public eye. Just wanting to have a normal human experience here in America, he laid low, didn’t really share much on social media and rode his bike around the city. It gave him a fresh mind to intake life and be creative, especially in a tough all-around year like 2016. Seeing artists do that is a breath of fresh air to me. Fame is just something he doesn’t care about.

In the album, there’s a few times Cole rhymes from different perspectives apart from himself. What we have here is a real lyricist, and wordsmith. He chops up words perfectly to make them fit meter after meter. I honestly think he’s getting better and apart from Kendrick, no one out there is stopping him from being the most influential lyricist in urban culture. His mass appeal comes naturally, though he does not care about it or give into it.

Ed Sheeran said in an interview recently on the Breakfast Club that in the likes of the hip hop genre, right now he is really liking this J.Cole album. Reason why I say this is cause, Ed, too took a page from this book and, took a year off from music and celebrity living and just vacationed and traveled.

You can feel it in these songs. The calmness in the beats. There is something retro about the drums, the flows are mellow, and the vibes make me want to go for a soothing walk with headphones, or take a subway into a city like NY. I don’t know if any of that makes sense, but once you listen to a song like “Ville Mentality”, you’ll know.

3. We Got it From Here…Thank You 4 your service

A Tribe Called Quest

They’re Back! Mr. Abstract, Phife the Five Footer, Ali! The return of the historic and legendary hip hop group, the pioneers for all current rappers today, the one, the only, TRIBE CALLED QUEST.

Here is Phife Dawg. The Five Foot Assassin is what he used to go by. He founded this group back with Q-Tip I believe when they were in high school. Hip Hop was already on the rise and established, but it had no real characters that were unique and funky. Them comes along these gentlemen along with other members of the Native Tongues who brought a energy to the hip hop scene that was crazy and untouched. They weren’t talking about money and drinking. It was all conscious writing and fun creativity. This band is why I am a hip hop fan today.

Tribe to me is like the mantle of the earth if Hip Hop was looked at as the planet. And the core would be jazz. We hear it in all of their records, and after the band split in 1998 and after 18 years…it took the death of co-Founder Phife, for the men to get into a studio and make some powerful music for the people, for themselves, and for their lost brother, Phife.

I think it takes bravery to return. They’re a bunch of old men. They know there’s a new audience of hip hop lovers out there who don’t even know them. They know that a lot of people aren’t really gonna feel their music and rhythm. So, I commend their boldness in return and with their humility in asking a great conglomerate of artists from Jack White to Talib Kweli to help join them create their final album to send strong messages on things as simple as how it is to be a black man in America.

This band has left an impeccable legacy and imprint on hip hop music forever.

2. i like it when you sleep for you are so beautiful, yet so unaware

The 1975

You’re probably like.

Wait, what…huh?!?

And I’m sorry to put them so high, but I am not at the same time. I keep finding myself DRAWN to each and every track on this record. For a sophomore album, they definitely found the best way to expand but at the same time stay inside the realm that they created for the fans that is kind of the this imaginary “1975” world.

Kickstarting with a perfect “first single” in Love Me, to being the iliwysfyasbysu era was a pretty cool statement made because we just knew that they were bursting forth with a different brand. You’ll know what I mean if you go ahead and watch the music video. Musically, they’re was some experiments and that is always fun for me to hear. I wish I could know the terminology for what is being used to make that sort of grungy, wavy, synthy guitar sound to start and end the song, but it’s sexy and reminds me for some reason of Halloween?

Matty said that their London shows this year in the O2 were the biggest shows they did and since Vevo put on a sweet video production for it up on Youtube, I had to lay down and watch the hour-long concert. shows.

I found myself listening to the record over and over. Music doesn’t just make it into my top three just that. I really have got to like it. And I enjoy the music, simple as that. All visuals for the album certain vibe. They made a change to their brand and new look to their socials, beginning with a complete 180 of all their black and white monochrome look. It was hit with a hard flavor of flamboyant, loud, pink. That’s right, pink.

(Which, quick input, 2016 was the year of pink. Big year for pink)

Previously, on their first studio album, though they’ve been doing music for over a decade, the artwork of the album, singles, and live show light show were all bright whites and black contrasts.

Then at the end of May, we were introduced to the regeneration of the young (not-so-young) band, the 1975.

The lyrics, on almost every song, so vulnerable and loud, are what mostly impresses me about the record. Matty writes about a lot of things he deals and is trying to make sense of in morality, psychology, drugs, religion and love. Though the song titles are not as obviously direct with the messages like the first album, this album hit at so many questions that we as humans ask, or should ask.

Matty Healy’s intellect kills me. I would definitely put him in my top ten with musicians I would desire to have one or two tea time conversations with. I feel like there would be things we could teach each other. Just listening to what he has to say in interviews became quite a hobby of mine, especially the interviews where he was sober. He has interesting things to input about, love, politics, Jesus, and whatever makes the world go round. I found every lyric and every emotion put into the musically was very intentional.

They have definitely built an experience surrounding what is deemed, the 1975. It’s their own world. Everything about it. The social mediums. The twisted yet attractive persona of the lead. The sounds of the guitar that you hear in “She’s American”. It’s not much different than what you hear in “Settle Down” or even “Chocolate”. My point is, you know you’re entering the 1975, when you enter the 1975; it’s distinct.

There’s something special about that.

These are my lads.

my pics from the show*

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Processed with VSCO

1. Coloring Book

Chance the Rapper

Mixtape? Album? Whatever you call it, this body of work takes the crown for me of this year’s best musical work. Gospel and hip hop are the largest influences in my musical upbringing so, for others, this was just a good album. For me, however, this hit me in my heart strings, where my hair rises, and the bumps on my skin appear. The horns and the choir vocals are what told me that I was home.

The evolution of this young Chicago artist is major as I’ve been following Chancellor since 2013 to who he’s become today as a Grammy-nominated star. When he jump started his musical career with his 10 Day mixtape, he was just a shorty making beats in his city, snatching stages at the open mics. He released his first song on Soundcloud in 2011. The 2013 XXL freshmen article is where I realized this man was gonna blow up one day. He and his overalls, nose piercing, and whippersnapper attitude is what drew me. He was put on by Gambino, when he asked Chance to go on tour with him when Gambino had nothing but Royalty and was working on Because of the Internet.

Back then, lil Chano was a little more immature, a high school dreamer who opted out on college and grew on his experimentation of drugs. So many things has changed in a matter of three years lemme tell you.

He and his girl now have a DAUGHTER. Which he just recently is letting the world get to know through his social media platforms. “My daughter look just like Sia, yah can’t see her.” He and his friends who have been working on music producing and writing for other artist called “The Social Experiment” compiled an album for free called SURF, which ended up being a top three album for me last year if you read blog post last year. Finally, he’s cut down on the trippy drugs; he used to think that they would be his thing and something to be known for, but realized it was not something of value to him anymore. The growth mostly is shown in the music by far.

After the mixtape dropped and while Chano and his gang went of tour, they announced the Magnificent Coloring Day Festival, a festival in Chicago to end the tour. It was a day where he invited many of his musical friends, including Francis and the Lights, Alicia Keys, John Legend, Skrillex, Chicago’s own Common, Lil Uzi Vert, and his mentor Kanye West. He had the city of Chicago ‘doing front-flips’!

Undoubtedly, it can be said at least in hip hop, that the is his year. It’s definitely Chance the Rapper’s season in hip hop as much as it can be denied. Last year was Drake season, this year is Chance’s season, maybe next year is someone else’s. Chano had one of the HOTTEST VERSES ON arguably biggest song in hip hop in 2016, Ultralight Beam. He helped heavily on Hamilton mixtape. He has sold out stadiums, became the first independent artist to do Saturday Night Live, performed at ESPYS for the late Muhammad Ali, and got the Grammys to open up categories for non-selling, stream only artists. 2016, as you can see below, was his year.

I’ll get to the main reason why Chance is my guy later, for right now let’s quickly talk about the music. Diversity in his features is what I thought was cool with him at first. In ’13, he spit a verse on James Blake’s, “Life ‘Round Here” and I was like, shoot this new cat messes with people like James Blake AND Action Bronson?!? I need hop on this train before it’s too crowded. Chancellor, along with his brother and other Chicago rappers, has a way with the way he says his words. Poetically he makes them fit into patterns of time rhythms that sets a unique flow almost every time. But there’s also a slight Chicago twang to his voice, especially when he was younger.

One thing I respect is that, this man was blowing up while still being flat out broke in relation to how big of a name he was becoming. He was only making his cash off of merchandise and touring, and doing features I guess. I mean maybe not anymore, I’m sure he’s well off, but it was just cool to see that someone could continue independence and be like, nah it’s really not about the money, Imma give this here music for free.

The Social Experiment.

These guys right here are the Social Experiment. #SoX

They stuck it out with along with Chance, not as a surrounding band, but as a group with equal say into decisions. Head by Nico Segal on the left aka Donnie Trumpet, they made music for the people and were a collection of songwriters for man artists out there and did it for fun. They are now the band of friends that Chance plays, and probably will always play with on tour.

Aint that something! :’)

He’s Happier. It’s evident. If you listened the drug-influenced, young whippersnapper Chance the Rapper was during 10 Day, and his Acid Rap era, and dug deep into the reasonings for his anxiety and hurt in his young life, you’d see a difference in who we’re being blessed with today. He, growing up in Chicago, has seen lots of violence including the murder of one of his friends. Chance has rededicated his life to the Lord and has changed abundantly. It’s so obvious in his tone and poise nowadays. He’s still fun and buck, but man Chano is a transformed person.

So one of the real reasons I love this dude is his social involvement. Time and time again you’ll read that he has had a upbringing with educators and strong women in his life. His father worked in politics and was part of being running the campaign for Barak Obama to get into the presidential office. So, Chance learned a thing or too about how to meet peoples’ needs. He has donated and promoted giving warm, thick coats to the homeless during the winter through an organization in Detroit. These coats turn into a sleeping bag so it is designed especially for those who have no homes. He speaks up against violence like we all do, however, I love seeing someone with a platform like his, give a nonviolent voice of reason. In his community, the city of Chicago, Chance also hosts an open mic night every month called, Open Mike, which is near and dear to him because that’s how he began and how he realized he wanted to pursue music. He wants to give other young kids to opportunity to dream as well.

Anyways, that’s all.

I realized I’ve talked about him for a while now…I’ve tried to be very unpretentious over the year with Coloring Book…but personal blog so.

Anticipating Albums

Colony House

John Mayer

Lorde

Drake

Ed Sheeran

Lupe Fiasco

Paramore

Snubs (the eh’s)

Joanne (Gaga)

Lemonade (Beyonce)

ANTI (Riri)

Awaken, My Love (Bino)

JEFFREY (Thug)

matty and chancellor.

bye.

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