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shera-dnd · 3 years

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New chapter is up (on time this time) and things start getting a little gay

alternative title for this chapter was I Name Thee Simp, but I feel like that applies better to the chapter I’m currently writing

as usual, AO3 link above and read more link bello. Hope y’all enjoy the read.

There was something different to Weiss. Even fully armored as she was, it was easy to tell that something had changed in the way she held herself. The way she shadowed Ilia through the festival grounds. For the past couple of days it was if the cloud of resignation that hung over Weiss’s mood had slowly dissipated and was promptly replaced by… something else.

Perhaps her little chats with Belladonna had been improving her mood. The two of them seemed to be getting along far more amicably since Weiss’s little promise. Ilia on the other hand made no effort to hide how bitter she was that her former companion now found such easy company with a human. That she would choose a human over Ilia.

No. It didn’t matter what had happened to the Schnee and it didn’t matter who Belladonna chose to associate with. She was here to enjoy herself, and as long as those fools stuck to their part of the deal, she would not waste precious thought on them.

So she shook those thoughts away and moved on with her day. She would simply focus on enjoying her time at the festival and not worry herself with this. There were so many people to meet, food to eat, stories to listen to, and she simply had no time to waste on those things.

Not when she could just enjoy her day.

“Hey!” An angry voice called and Ilia did her best to ignore it, “stop right there!”

Ilia sighed and turned to face the shouting man. It was some stuck up little lordling, old enough to understand he had power, but not enough to use it with any sense. Two men in full knight’s regalia flanked him on each side, all three of them wearing heraldry of House Marigold.

“Lord Marigold, it is an honor to make your acquaintance,” Ilia greeted with false joy.

“I’m sure it is,” he replied and Ilia weighed the pros and cons of making this man disappear, “you responsible for this man’s actions?”

He gestured rudely towards Weiss, who didn’t even give the courtesy to look back at him. Good.

“They are my bodyguard,” she informed him, “though what they do with their free time is none of my business.”

“Well it’s certainly my business,” he countered, “your bodyguard is a cheat and a liar!”

Ilia glanced at Weiss to see how she would react to have her honor questioned like that. The woman seemed utterly unamused, as if the Marigold boy was just a particularly loud bug.

“And why is it you make these accusations?” She asked, feigning ignorance.

“Have you not watched the tournament?” He asked, “no faceless mercenary could face the best House Marigold has to offer and emerge victorious were they not a lying cheat!”

“If those bumbling oafs are the best your house has to offer, perhaps you would have had better luck hiring lying cheats,” she offered, with the same polite smile she had kept throughout this conversation.

To that the knights that flanked him stirred. Both stepped forward standing annoyingly close to Weiss and Ilia. She couldn’t help but be aware of how much iron was being carried around her.

“What did you just call us?” The knight asked and Ilia immediately recognized him. His loud and obnoxious voice was unmistakable.

“Bumbling oaf,” she repeated, “or do you have a better term for someone who got so thoroughly humiliated, they chose to lie to their lord over admitting defeat?”

“Listen here,” the Marigold boy interjected, “I will not have my men’s honesty questioned by some southern whor--”

Weiss’s blade was at his neck before the last sound could escape his mouth. Both of his men looked baffled, fully aware that had Ilia wished so, their lord would have died before they could draw their weapons. It was intensely satisfying, even if it was probably the last thing Ilia would get to see before being executed.

“What is the meaning of this?” A familiar voice called.

From behind his two knights approached Belladonna, accompanied by Lady Polendina. The two men seemed relieved to see their fellow knights. They were certainly in for a terrible surprise.

“Ah, it is good to see you here, Lady Polendina,” the Marigold boy greeted, though he hesitated to move from his position, “now please arrest this woman. She has sicced her bodyguard on me like a hound.”

Penny seemed to ignore his words as she recognized the people threatening to murder him.

“Salutations, Lady Ilia,” she greeted, as brightly as ever, “how have you been enjoying the festival?”

“It’s been wonderful, Lady Polendina” Ilia greeted, leaving the men utterly confused, “though some of the attendants can be a bit overbearing at times.”

“I see our companion hasn’t taken kindly to their behavior,” Belladonna commented, nodding towards Weiss’s unmoving blade.

“What!?” The Marigold’s voice cracked as he turned ever so slightly to look at who he assumed would be his backup, “they have drawn on a Lord of Atlas, they should be arrested, and executed.”

“Oh? Has your father passed away?” Penny asked, with seemingly genuine worry, “my condolences.”

“What? No,” he replied, confused, “my father is well.”

“Oh, then they haven’t drawn on a Lord of Atlas,” she said, matter of factly, “though they’d need good reason to be threatening one of its citizens.”

“My bodyguard may have gotten a little overzealous,” Ilia explained, “but they only intended to defend my honor.”

“A little overzealous!?” the Marigold exclaimed.

“You did call me a ‘southern whore’ in front of them,” she replied. Weiss’s grip on the sword tightened as the insult was repeated.

“Lord Henry Marigold!” Lady Polendina began, “this festival is about celebrating peace with the nations of Remnant! You will not embarrass our kingdom by acting like this!”

“She was the one defending the honorless cheat who humiliated my men!”

“I fought them myself in that tournament, and I can assure you they fought with the honor and skill befit of a knight,” Belladonna countered.

“Me and your good father will be having a conversation about this later,” Penny threatened, “now be gone.”

With that all three of the men ran back from whence they came, leaving behind the three knights, and a very stunned Ilia.

Penny giggled as she watched them run, “my apologies. I believe Lady Schnee might have rubbed off on me more than I expected.”

“No need to apologize,” Ilia assured her, “I’m grateful you showed up when you did.”

“What a lovely coincidence that me and Lady Blake were passing by,” Penny beamed as bright as the sun, “we were on our way to get ourselves some food, in fact. Would you two like to join us?”

“Of course they would,” Belladonna answered, “trust me on this. You do not know good food until you’ve had fish prepared by a mistrali chef.”

Ilia had no doubts as to why Belladonna was so fond of that fish dish, but she couldn’t exactly say that out loud, instead what she did say was, “very well. At least let me pay for your meals to repay you for this. I insist.”

It took her a while, but they eventually accepted her generosity. She hadn’t stolen all this money not to spend it, and it genuinely was the least she could do.

As they began making their way through the crowd, Weiss tapped on Ilia’s shoulder - making sure to only touch the dress so as to not accidentally burn her - to ask her to stay a little further behind so they could talk.

“Are you well?” She whispered.

“I certainly almost wasn’t,” she hissed, “what was that about?”

Weiss seemed to think for a moment, as if even she wasn’t sure what her burst of violence was about.

“I would be no knight, were I to let my lady’s name be insulted like that,” was her eventual answer.

It was...sweet. Impossibly stupid, and barely a good excuse for putting them at risk like that, but it was sweet. It had been far too long since anyone stood up for Ilia, even if this time it was out of some misguided sense of duty.

As detestable as she found the idea, Ilia couldn’t help but feel like she owed the Schnee some kindness after all that.

“You’re a fool,” she declared, sure that Weiss was ready to leave it at that, but Ilia wasn’t quite done, “but I’m grateful.”

She took off the shawl she wore over her dress and handed it over to her companion, her magic weaving itself into it like an extra layer of unseen cloth.

“Take it,” she commanded and her knight did as ordered, “I put a glamour on it. As long as you hold it your face, and voice, will be that of an ordinary woman, and no human will know your true nature.”

Weiss gently draped it over her shoulders, her hands slowly reached for her helmet, hesitated for a moment. Ilia knew she was asking for a lot of trust from the Schnee, but her words were true, and her gift genuine, if bedrudging.

Eventually Weiss chose to trust her and carefully took off her helmet. To everyone else she was just another plain face in the crowd, a nondescript woman who no one would look twice at. But Ilia could see through her own handiwork with ease.

The woman may not have looked any different, but her expression held far more emotion than Ilia had ever seen it hold before. Not even her first bout of rage matched the sheer gratefulness in those eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered back, before returning to march behind their companions.

Ilia blinked a few times as she stared after her, not fully understanding what had just happened.

Gods, that Schnee was one strange woman.

#rwby #prismatic ponytails #weiss schnee #ilia amitola #blake belladonna #penny polendina #medieval au #fanfic

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destroyed-conscience · 7 years

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Failed Him {Royality}

Hello, yes, I am here to ruin this pure ship with Angst. Hope ya don’t mind lol. No, but seriously, I wrote this during my study period in school today cuz I was bored. And I was just feeling sad over The Walking Dead mid-season finale and had to take it out on Roman and Patton ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Some additional info: When I type in all italics, it’s a flashback, just so y’all ain’t confused :P

Trigger Warnings: Referenced/Implied Suicide, Death, Mental Illness in general, Ask if you need anything tagged

Now that Roman looked back on it, Patton never seemed truly happy. From the smiles that were a bit too big, to the optimism that had always seemed too persistent, it was obvious now that he hadn’t een as happy as he proclaimed to be.

He just wished he didn’t have to see his love in a casket to realise it.

They had dressed him well. The suit pristine and ironed, the shoes shining and newly polished. They had even applied some makeup to his neck, to cover the bruises the rope had left.

Roman hated that this was the most peaceful he had ever seen him.

Logan and Virgil stayed beside him for the majority of the funeral. The only time both of them were not by him being when Virgil left for the bathroom, claiming the large crowds were getting to him.

Roman knew he was lying, he heard the sobs from behind the door when he went to check on him.

Logan remained stoic for the majority of the time Roman saw him, face stoney to those who did not know him well enough to see the veiled sadness present, voice steady as he spoke about Patton.

Roman allowed the other to say he was reaching a hand to his face to simply satisfy an itch, not wipe a tear away.

As the casket was lowered into the ground, Virgil grabbed a hold of his hand, as though sensing Roman’s urge to just jump in with it. If the tightness Roman squeezed the other’s hand with hurt, Virgil didn’t complain.

Roman went through the burial in a daze, numbly nodding at people who approached him, quietly thanking them for their condolences. He drove home, eyes as dry as they had been from the start of the day, his body not responding to the utter pain he felt clawing at his insides.

When Roman pulled up to their his home, he walked inside and immediately headed towards their his room, house now silent. No music or singing drifitng through the air like it usually did. And when Roman reached their his room, he sat on the bed that seemed so much colder.

And he cried.

Roman was going crazy.

It had started off as dreams, dreams of Patton and what could have been if he had been there to pick up one of his calls.

When Roman finally was able to find his phone, stuck in Virgil’s couch cushions, he turned it on to see 14 missed calls from Patton. Wanting to make sure Patton was okay, he called him back, only to be sent to voicemail. He had though nothing of it, believing the other other man had just gone to bed, it had been quite late, anyway.

Oh, how wrong he was.

The dreams had begun to change for the worse, and in more and more scenarios, no matter what he did, Roman would inevitably fail in his attempts to save Patton. Then they became solelu of Patton, how he did it, what the moments beforehand were like; Patton crying as he held the phone to his ear, begging for Roman to pick up, which he never did.

Roman always woke up crying.

Those dreams were terrible, but this, this was so much worse.

He was starting to see Patton.

From the corner of his eye, in flashes, in reflective surfaces, no matter where he went, Patton was always there. But this wasn’t Patton. It never smiled, eyes always emotionless, mouth always turned down in a frown.

He blamed him. He knew he did. Who wouldn’t? Hell, he blamed himself, too. If he hadn’t been such an airhead as to have lost his phone, he could have picked up, could have been there for the man he loved, like how he promised to be. But he wasn’t there for him, no, had let Patton down when he had needed him most, and because of that, because of him, he was dead.

He was changing, he knew the others could see it. The nightmares were causing him to stay awake, for fear of having his loved one’s death replayed in front of him once more. The lack of sleep has left him tired, bags under his eyes. Every time he sees Patton he is overwhelmed with guilt, the hurt increasing with every flash of purple, every stoic stare from dead, hazel eyes.

He’s so tired. Not just physically but mentally, the guilt weighing him down, making him feel heavy and just so, so tired. He just wants to rest.

It’s dark when Roman wakes, shoulders shaking as he sits up, sobs roughly raking through his body. He knows he probably looks a mess, face flushed a blotchy red with tears and snot everywhere but he doesn’t care. He never cared about himself when it came to Patton.

“You could have saved me.” The voice is devoid of emotion as it breaks the silence, although Roman immediately knows who it belongs to.

Head snapping up, his sobs catch in his throat at the sight of Patton, who is sitting on the edge of his bed, the closest he has ever been, eyes still as dead as they had been last time Roman had seen him. The eyes that were once a beautiful hazel that looked like gold when the sunlight hit them just right now a dull, lifeless brown.

God, Roman missed him so much.

Roman looked to Patton, tears falling from his eyes “Please,” He choked out, reaching for the man he knew wasn’t really there but he wished was, finally broken by the repeated heartbreak his own mind has made him endure “I can’t live without you, Pat.”

Patton looked at Roman, expression unreadable as he reached for his hand in return.

“Then don’t.”

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pietro-capimagines · 7 years

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There: Chapter 1 (Bucky x reader)

Hey there lovelies, I hope your Sunday is going grand. I’m trying to write as much as possible and come up with new ideas. I’m really questioning whether I should continue with “Our Eyes”, but what do you guys think? Rest assured, I will be keeping up this one because it’s really working for me. I want to get some good fics out to you guys, I know they haven’t been that great lately, so I’m really trying to get my creativity flowing. Have a wonderful day, I love you all. xoxo

Description: You lost your world. You lost the love of your life. All by yourself, with nobody to support you. Your daughter would have to grow up never knowing her father. But what happens when Bucky comes along? Will you let him in, or will you push him away like everyone else?

Warnings: Depression

Intro

MASTERLIST

For two months you stayed in your house, the house you had shared with Pietro. Every single day you would get up, wake up Victoria, drop her off at the babysitter’s house, and then pick her up after she was already asleep at night. She was so little, she was only two, and she didn’t understand. She didn’t understand why her daddy wasn’t coming home, why she didn’t see her mommy often, or why you didn’t even look like her mommy anymore. That was because you barely ate anymore, and over the course of the last couple weeks, you were beginning to lose weight rapidly. Your cheeks and eyes were starting to hollow out, and your once radiant and bright skin looked pale and lifeless.

Seeing your daughter every day was like a dagger in your heart. She painfully looked so much like her father, and you couldn’t bear it. That’s why you sent her to the babysitter. Most days you sat in the bedroom you shared with Pietro and looked at pictures of you and him from when you two had started dating, up until the latest pictures of your little family. Some pictures brought up fond memories, and with every memory came tears. You cried yourself to sleep every night, clutching a piece of his clothing to your chest, taking in his scent. You feared that you would forget it, that somehow he would slowly fade from your memory, and that one day there would be no memory of him to hold on to. You were reminiscing in a life that you no longer had, a life that still included Pietro, a life where you were still happy.

It was one of those nights when the pain was unbearable, but you had to stifle your sobs since Victoria was sleeping. As you balled up a pillow in your fists as you buried your face in it, your phone chimed. Through the blur of tears, you managed to see that it was a text from Bucky.

F/N, talk to me. I want to be there for you.

You sighed, wiping away your tears. Bucky had always been a close friend of yours, he understood your pain like nobody else did. He always seemed to intervene at the right times, just before you thought your world was ending. But, well, it seemed to have ended when you lost your lover a few weeks ago. The thing was, when he was with you, a little life surged through you and your mind didn’t distance so far away from you.

Okay… I don’t think I can do it over the phone though. Can you come here?

You pressed send. You really needed someone to talk to, you just never wanted to admit it. Keeping all these emotions to yourself was putting a toll not only on yourself, but also on your relationship with your daughter. You had been detaching yourself from her because you didn’t want Victoria to see you this way, and because seeing her was a grueling reminder of what you had lost.

Ever since the funeral, you hadn’t seen or talked to anyone besides the babysitter. Right now, Bucky was the first person you had ever responded to. People had been sending you countless messages, wishing you well, and sending their condolences. They all hoped for some sort of reply, which you never gave them. They pitied you, but you didn’t want their pity. You wanted your husband back, and that was it. Bucky never pitied you, he understood you. Your phone chimed again.

I’ll be right over. Do you want me to bring some ice cream?

You stared at the bright screen. Bucky was always endearing, especially to you.

No thanks. The door is unlocked, but just be quiet. Vic is already asleep.

Fifteen minutes after sending the text, you heard the door quietly open and close. You got out of your bed, and looked at yourself in the mirror for the first time in what seemed like forever. There were dark shadows under your eyes, your skin looked transparent, and your cheekbones were slightly jutting out. You didn’t know how he would react to seeing you like this, but you had nothing left to offer anybody. This was all that was left of you. You were a hollow shell of the person you used to be. You heard footsteps silently going up the stairs and down the hallway to your room. Your back was towards the door when it opened.

“F/N?” The concern in Bucky’s voice made you wince. You didn’t want to turn around. You didn’t want him to know how badly Pietro’s death was affecting you. “F/N, please. Let me see you.” His voice was barely a whisper across the room.

You owed him this much. He had been trying to contact you for the duration of your time that you had yourself holed up in your home. You slowly turned around to face him, tears brimming in your already bloodshot and puffy eyes. Your gaze was on the floor, but slowly trailed up to meet his gaze. Hurt and shocked was etched across his face, his eyebrows knitted together with concern as he looked over your withering body. You noticed this and crossed your arms over your body, averting your eyes back to the floor.

“Bucky, I-I…” You paused, the tears beginning to spill onto your cheeks. “I have nothing to say.” Your voice was shaky and your bottom lip quivered against your words.

“You don’t need to say anything.” He crossed the room in long strides and wrapped his arms around as your sobs broke out, and you collapsed into his chest. He held you close to his chest, letting you cry. The two of you sunk to the floor, your face buried in his shirt. He shushed your cries, telling you to breathe.

You took deep, but shaky breaths, trying to calm yourself once again. He pulled you away from him, studying your features as he wiped away you stray tears. It pained him to see you this way, he was cursing himself in his head for not showing up weeks ago. You looked so unhealthy, his concern for you was tremendous.

Neither of you said anything as the two of you moved to lean against the bed frame. He wrapped his arm around you, and you placed your head on his shoulder. He rubbed your arm, trying to lull you to sleep. He could tell that you had gotten none, and that you needed it.

Slowly your eyelids began to feel heavy, and you drifted off into a peaceful sleep. You didn’t relive the moments on Sokovia, nor did you have any nightmare at all. That was the first night since it happened that you had gotten real sleep.

As sleep pulled you down, you whispered to Bucky, “Please don’t leave.” He let out a small sigh, a small, pained smile came on his face. Gladly for him, you wouldn’t remember his next words.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not letting you slip through my fingers again.”

Hey babes! So, ta da. Here’s the first actual chapter of “There”. Sorry it wasn’t much of a cliff hanger, but I’ll have the next chapter up tomorrow, yeah? What did y’all think? Did you like it? I really love this story line, so shout out to my best fren for it. xoxo

TAGLIST IS OPEN.

Taglist:

@barely-emily @purplekitten30 @mcfuccfairy @fandomlover2001@elegantnightmareshiro@buckysplumfondler@arabellaaurorabarnes@imgettingmarriedtobuckybarnes@badassbaker @life-is-fuucked

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infolibrary · 5 years

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Nipsey Hussle's Fiancee, Heartbroken Mother, Son and Snoop Dogg Honor Him at #NipseyHusslememorial » UppBuzz

New Post has been published on http://www.infolibrary.net/nipsey-hussles-fiancee-heartbroken-mother-son-and-snoop-dogg-honor-him-at-nipseyhusslememorial-uppbuzz/

Nipsey Hussle's Fiancee, Heartbroken Mother, Son and Snoop Dogg Honor Him at #NipseyHusslememorial » UppBuzz

Nipsey Hussle’s legacy as a community activist, uniter, a doting father and a loving son were underscored at his public memorial service on Thursday, with deeply personal testimonies from those closest to the rapper, including his actress-fiancee Lauren London, collaborator and dear friend Snoop Dogg and his mother, who said she was at peace with the death of her “superhero” son.

“I’m very proud of my son. My son Ermias Joseph Asghedom was a great man,” said Angelique Smith, dressed in all white, remembering her 33-year-old son. Standing onstage with Hussle’s father, Dawit Asghedom, in front of a capacity crowd of 21,000 at the Staples Center, Smith declared: “Ermias was a legacy.”

Nipsey Hussle’s mother is a strong woman, “we are all divine creature, we don’t need to look to the sky for God, I have perfect peace; I am happy; I am complete; I am strong”#BETRemembersNipsey#NipseyHusslememorial #CelebrationOfNipseyHussle pic.twitter.com/pLGZQYLJ5t

— UppBuzz (@UppBuzz) April 11, 2019

London, dark sunglasses, was emotional but stood strong onstage as she told the audience: “I’ve never felt this type of pain before.”

London called Hussle “majestic” and “brilliant” and said she had learned so much from his presence. She added though she was hurting, she was really sad for their son Kross, whom she feared wouldn’t remember his dad: “My pain is for my two-year-old.”

Snoop Dogg’s words to immortalize his friend were both serious and silly, as he told old stories about Hussle and their brotherhood.

“This a tough one right here,” he said, visibly shaken but keeping his composure.

Snoop thanked Hussle’s parents multiple times and told his father that “you picked up another son in me.”

Hussle’s father said he knew his son was strong because when he was born, the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck but he prevailed.

“He was a fighter,” he said.

Earlier in the ceremony, Hussle’s children also appeared onstage to pay tribute. London’s son with rapper Lil Wayne, Cameron Carter, said days after Hussle died, he had a dream he saw the rapper.

“I realized Ermias told me what heaven was like. He told me it was paradise,” Cameron said.

Cameron then told the audience that Hussle would look at him through the window at times and say “respect.” Cameron then asked the crowd to say “respect” in unison, and they complied.

Nipsey Hussle will forever be remembered… His brave son put ‘RESPECT’ in everybody’s mouth #NipseyHusslememorial#CelebrationOfNipseyHussle pic.twitter.com/dRH0n1vBqg

— UppBuzz (@UppBuzz) April 11, 2019

Hussle was slain last month in front of a store that he tried to use to empower his South Central neighborhood. The public memorial service kicked off by paying respect to Hussle the rapper, as songs from his latest Grammy-nominated album, Victory Lap, filled the arena.

“Everybody put your hands in the air,” the DJ said as one of Hussle’s songs played. “It’s a celebration.”

Amid tears for Nipsey Hussle, a rallying cry: ‘The marathon has to continue’

Indeed, his mother, dressed in all white, danced in the aisle as R&B singer Marsha Ambrosius sang the Mariah Carey song “Fly Like a Bird” while fighting back tears. “This is for Nipsey, y’all” Ambrosius said before she started as she tried to gain her composure, sighing heavily.

But soon the focus was squarely on the person behind the persona. A montage of photos featuring the rapper from infancy, childhood and adulthood, with fellow rappers, his family and London, were shown to the crowd, set to Frank Sinatra’s “My Way.”

Anthony Hamilton invoked the spirit of a church service as he performed in Hussle’s honor. Nation of Islam leader Louis Farrakhan hailed Hussle’s ability to bring different factions together. And blogger and media figure Karen Civil read a letter sent by former U.S. President Barack Obama.

“I’ve never meet Nipsey, but I’ve heard his music through my daughters, and after his passing I had the chance to learn more about his transformation and his community work. While most folks look at the Crenshaw neighborhood where he grew up and only see gangs, bullets and despair, Nipsey saw potential. He saw hope. He saw a community that even through its flaws taught him to always keep going. He choice to invest in that community rather than to ignore it,” the Obama letter read. “He set an example for young people to follow and is a legacy worth of celebration. I hope his memory inspires more good work in Crenshaw and communities like it. Michelle and I send our sympathies to Lauren, Emani, Kross and his while family and to all those who love Nipsey.”

At the memorial, Father Thomas Uwal read a scripture in Tigrinya — the native language in Eritrea, the African country where Hussle’s father was from. Father Uwal spoke of Hussle being a “proud to be an Eritrean-American,” later saying to the late rapper’s family: “On behalf of all Eritreans … we say our condolences to you.”

Books with an image of Hussle on the cover were handed out to service attendees. The book of nearly 100 pages contained numerous photos of Hussle with London, his children, and friends like Russell Westbrook and Snoop Dogg. It also had heartfelt messages from Rick Ross, The Game and LeBron James.

“I’ve never cried myself to sleep over any public figure before, but Nipsey’s presence meant so much for our community,” actress Issa Rae said in her message inside the book.

The hearse carrying Hussle’s coffin was scheduled to after the funeral to go on a 25-mile lap through the city, including past the property where Hussle had planned to turn an aging strip mall into new businesses and affordable homes. Finally, it will arrive at a funeral home in the city’s hard-scrabble Crenshaw district, where the rapper was born on Aug. 15, 1985.

Hussle was shot to death Mar. 31 while standing outside The Marathon, his South Los Angeles clothing store, not far from where the rapper grew up.

Eric R. Holder Jr., who has been charged with killing Hussle, has pleaded not guilty. Police have said Holder and Hussle had several interactions the day of the shooting and have described it as being the result of a personal dispute.

The rapper was a beloved figure for his philanthropic work that went well beyond the usual celebrity “giving back” ethos. Following his death, political and community leaders were as quick and effusive in their praise as his fellow hip-hop artists.

Hussle recently purchased the strip mall where The Marathon is located and planned to redevelop it, part of Hussle’s broader ambitions to remake the neighborhood where he grew up and attempt to break the cycle of gang life that lured him in when he was younger.

For a decade, Hussle released much sought-after mixtapes that he sold out of the trunk of his car, helping him create a buzz and gain respect from rap purists and his peers. His said his stage name, a play on the 1960s and ’70s rhyming standup comic Nipsey Russell, was given to him as a teen by an older friend because he was such a go-getter — always hustling.

He charged $100 for his 2013 mixtape Crenshaw, scoring a cash and publicity coup when Jay-Z bought 100 copies for $10,000.

Last year he hit new heights with Victory Lap, his critically acclaimed major-label debut album on Atlantic Records that made several critics’ best-of lists. The album debuted at No. 4 on Billboard’s 200 albums charts and earned him a Grammy nomination.

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