#silver stacking 2022

[taylorswiftstyle]

RENAISSANCE: A Film By Beyoncé premiere | London, England | November 30, 2023

Anita Ko 'Large Pear Diamond Drop Earrings' - $32,150.00 Anita Ko 'Quinn Graduated Pear Diamond Drop Earrings' - $13,500.00 Anita Ko 'Triangle Eternity Ear Cuff' - $3,850.00 Anita Ko 'Diamond Twist Ring' - $10,625.00 Anita Ko 'Princess Eternity Ring' - $4,775.00

To coordinate with her silver metallic look, it only made sense for Taylor to stack on the white gold jewelry. Since adding a few new lobe piercings to hear ears in August (two in the right, one in the left) this is her first red carpet appearance that changes out her stack.

All her jewelry was courtesy of Anita Ko who Taylor has worn on a number of red carpet appearances since 2022 including this year's MTV VMAs and iHeartRadio Awards. Another fun crossover moment? Anita Ko also provided jewelry for last year's 2022 MTV EMAs - the last time that the Giuseppe Zanotti heels Taylor wears here were worn.

Worn with: Balmain gown and Giuseppe Zanotti heels

Photo by Getty

[angsthology]

RE-INTRODUCTION

changed my mind about a few things. added more things. things.

a/n what the "summary" says

THE KANGAROO(KIE) VS. THE WORLD

okay hey hello

remember when i said roo’s team isnt specified?

yeah, well

i lied

in 2022, she replaced kimi in alfa romeo

(he requested for her personally after accidentally watching an f2 race but u didnt hear that from me)

in her rookie season she excelled too close to the sun

by the end of the year she was the most desirable driver for majority of the teams

one stood out tho

they came to her personally with an offer that was hard to refuse

“nooooo... youre actually lying...”

a whole ass team. brand new. fresh from the oven.

just. for. her.

they had been contemplating their entrance to formula one

but when they saw her, they couldnt resist

gotta be honest, that shit boosted her ego for the next couple years of her life.

she had a lot of power in multiple decisions when she joined which she liked

(definitely didnt abuse that)

one of them being the choosing of her partner

of course, she had a couple of people in mind that she knew deserved the opportunity

but one person that stood out to her. the person who... probably needs this most

and the one who deserved it most too

she chose mick schumacher

so by the time the new season comes along

she and mick became the new faces of the porsche formula one team

(i will now have so much fun exploring their dynamic)

their team colors being stone black (honestly almost like just the darkest shade of gray, like, really really dark shade) and gold, some hints of silver here and there

her fireproofs displaying the biggest huda beauty logo (solely to piss off the older men watching formula one)

never wears work merch due to having self respect

the only form of promotion she wears is her baseball cap. black crown with a silver visor, her number and "logo" embroidered on it

her logo being a hang loose sign in diguise

hiding on the bottom visor was a cartoon kangaroo head winking — as a reference to her nickname courtesy of daniel

kinda not feelinb like designing more shit but im doin it anyway

her helmet design, the one she uses most

is a stack of grafitti art style of writings mashing with each other. all being the songs and lyrics of the song's by her band

(despite some sneaks, one of them being "armando christian pérez" in neon green)

its very colorful, a splash of neon everywhere

what stood out was the sticker of pitbull her friend had given her that she had decided to put on the back of her helmet.

in terms of racing, she didnt rlly grow up with anyone specific but there are a couple of drivers she had bump into throughout her young career

the longest standing one was probably lando and sometimes oscar and logan due to her being born in that year in the middle

taglist; @treehouse-mouse @disneyprincemuke @yansbolobao @leilanixx @judespoison @vellicoranorca @bborra hiiiiiiiii i promise im trying to write something hehe. also there are some here tha couldnt be tagged </3 (crossed out)

[alterin]

Report from the fan club meeting in Nanba Hatch (2022) taken from the The Gazette Russian Community on vk.com

They got asked about their favorite outfits - Uruha said the one from Spermargarita, Kai - Stacked Rubbish, Ruki - his silver suit from Stacked Rubbish live, Reita - the one with the hood from Division and Aoi said it’s his last one, because Reita chose it for him and said “Aoi-kun always look good in things like that”. Even after Aoi said that, Reita complimented him again calling him handsome and Aoi smiled at him with his usual kitty smile.

Reita was super nervous and was saying strange words so Aoi started to laugh so bad he got tears lmao. But when Reita sat, Aoi gently stroked his shoulder in a cute supportive manner.

[indouloureux]

A little request for Joseph x Reader. Snippets of sweet pda that Joe initiates (-: Xx

sorry this is short. thank you for requesting! 🤍 (shy!fem!reader, mentions of multiple artists below. pls don't question them or you can just go away)

pda's never been your thing. although maybe because you're too shy.

not everyone judged; some of them thought it was cute that two young lovers kissed in the middle of a sidewalk, held hands in the park, hugged in the cold winter night to replace the lack of coats. some — driven from the bitterness of past pain — , not so much.

so you'd always limited it. luckily for you, he respected that.

pinkie holdings had always been your favorite, though. you like it when he hooks his smaller finger around yours, swinging your hands back and forth, sometimes bringing it up to his mouth to kiss the side of your finger when the people were scattered around to almost desolation.

his was sneaking a kiss to the back of your head. either on dinners when there were too many people and he can sense your nervousness, when you're about to go into a room, when you're or he's about to go to the bathroom, or when he just wants to.

but he does try to steal a kiss or two. on your lips.

the record store's a bit crowded. but it's a given, everything was 50% off and you dragged joseph's ass down in here. so he's following behind you, one of his hands in your pocket as you squeeze through people that switches through shelves and aisles. you hold three imaginary boys to your chest, his other hand gripping the basket with albums hunky dory and folklore.

"do you think they have sex pistols in here?" you ask him. joseph shrugs, apologizing to a little girl he bumps onto. "or do you think they banned it for their vulgarity?"

"love, it's 2022, not the 80's," he laughs jovially. you pull him into another aisle, a less crowded one, vinyls stacked mostly from artists into the metal genre. you don't know why people hate them. "shit, there's a full stack of w.a.s.p. in here."

you take bad reputation into your hands, putting it inside the small silver basket in joseph's grasp. "you can take one. you're paying, anyway. i'm just taking advantage,"

joseph pouts at you, takes the last command and chucks it into the basket. then he sees reflektor by arcade fire behind it, so he chucks it in there too.

when he sees you pout at the sections beside, more rhythm and blues, bottom lip jutted out at the sign that says bruno mars had been sold out, he melts just a little bit. not that he finds your disappointment cute, but your face is. though, only when it's not that serious.

"it's only been ten minutes since the store opened and suddenly bruno mars is gone. how fast are these people?!"

he wraps an arm around your shoulder, not too much pda, but you don't pay attention to it. he rubs your shoulder, your hand lazily carding through other albums. joseph considers taking dijon's absolutely for a try.

giving in into his temptations, he does.

"i'm sorry, baby," he pouts with you. you look up at him, utter disbelief and chagrin in the luster of your eyes. joseph blushes, ears tinted pink, can't help but smile and lean down to kiss your nose. "and- oh! would you look at that. venga boys!"

"you annoy me," you frown deeply. he chuckles, taking the yellow album and putting it in the basket.

succumbing to his next temptation, he leans down to capture your lips in his. it's soft; forsooth, chaste. you giggle softly when his tongue pokes playfully at the ends of your teeth, parting with a small click.

pda two. pg-13, not too scandalous, but it's lovely.

"wha's that for?" you ask lowly, voice dulcet. joseph shrugs, lips twitching when you hook a finger around his chain.

he hums softly when you turn to face him, his hand falling on the crescent of your hip, your own carding through his curls, eyes scanning the sepia littered freckles across his nose and cheeks like they're stars.

"nothing," he smiles softly. "just wanted to."

you slip lover by taylor swift when he wasn't looking.

[thap1nkblog]

[★] ᵈᵒʷⁿˡᵒᵃᵈ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰᵉᵈ!

FILE PATH ↬ THAP1NKBL0G ↬ MASTERLIST ↬ [＃] P1NKYSH0TS

ᵐᵉᵗᵃᵈᵃᵗᵃ: keith powers [male!oc] x saweetie [female!oc], 18+, third person ᵈᵃᵗᵉ ᵐᵒᵈⁱᶠⁱᵉᵈ: 8/18/22 ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ: 10,937 ᵖ¹ⁿᵏʸ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ: i had an idea of a spinoff/au for one of the books i was writing at the time. i wrote this in 2022, practicing writing in third person. originally posted on wattpad, lol.

❝𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐦𝐫. 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧.❞

❝𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐣𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞.❞

The energy tonight was potent, thick with the seductive, sensual energy that filled the club. Blue and silver confetti, and green dollar bills rained from the sky, covering the floor while lights flashed across the club, bathing everybody in hues of blue, while the crowd swayed unpredictably like a tsunami wave. It was fierce, tugging at you as you entered, beckoning to rope you into the cesspool of sexual tension and lust that was only fueled by constantly flowing drinks, given to patrons by scantily clad bottle girls who rushed from table to table with big bottles of various alcohols, while dancers dressed in next to nothing, and even nothing at all, spun about the poles on the main stage, luring men in just like a siren’s song. 

This kind of activity wasn’t unusual for Club Crystal - but tonight was different. To those tucked away in the comfort of their homes, eyes shut peacefully away from Atlanta’s fast-paced nightlife, it was any regular Friday.  It was the end of a long work week, and the start of a shorter weekend filled with relaxing and running errands. But depending on who you asked, tonight as a special occasion, one for the history books, a complete blowout. 

Tonight was 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐥. 

Not to be confused with any fairytale, it was the fifth anniversary of the day Club Crystal officially opened its doors to the public. The Crystal Ball wasn’t just any regular Atlanta event - each year, it got bigger and better, and each year, the theatrics doubled, tripled in size. Beyond the double doors of Atlanta’s newest strip club, right on the old soil where Follies once stood, cars were doing burnouts in the parking lot, and if you paid a pretty penny, you could get what they called “A Crystal Flush” - where you and your car could come out squeaky clean - if you held onto your morals and dignity once you made it out on the other side. If you made it out on the other side. 

And in the middle of it all, surrounded by the smoke, reverberated, bass boosted music and buzzing, energizing sensation that seemed to drip and ooze from the four walls of the club was 𝐓𝐲𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧. 

And the friends that had dragged him along tonight. 

“Ooh, I love this shit!”

Sipping - or in his brother’s words - babysitting the Don Julio reposado that filled his glass, he slouched back against the couch, the black leather supporting his back, giving way for his shoulders to sink in. Terrell was like a kid in a candy store, flinging money over the balcony, the crisp, thin sheets of blue faced, hundred dollar bills slipping through his fingers, raining money down on the people below them. With the force and speed that he kept throwing, Tyree would’ve figured his arm would’ve popped out of socket by now. 

Tyree sighed, checking his phone, looking for any signs of life from his fiancee. It was probably the tenth time he had checked his phone already, and he had nothing to show for the hour that had passed aside from the picture on his lock screen that stared back at him, and wasted time. His battery was dying - his phone and his social battery, but the party around him continued on, his friends blowing through stacks of money without a care in the world. 

From where he was sitting, he could see the hosts for tonight’s event - Future and 21 Savage -  throwing racks of their own, surrounded by an entourage of security guards, who enclosed them like a human cage - dressed in all black and ready to go if something unsavory was to happen. Bottle girls dressed in black glitter leotards slid in between the security guards, bringing over bottle after bottle for Atlanta’s own royalty. 

“Oh my god, nigga she’s not gonna text you back, she’s doing her own shit.” 

RC plopped down next to him, tucking a stack of ones into the front pocket of his olive green Chrome Hearts hoodie. He peeked over Tyree’s shoulder, kissing his teeth at the blank lock screen that illuminated their faces. He attempted to pull the phone from Tyree’s hands, but Tyree tilted his wrist just out of reach from RC’s hands. 

“I’m just checking on her.”

“You in a club full of bad bitches, sitting mere feet from Future, and you worried about Michelle? Damn, Terrell was right.” 

“The fuck you mean Terrell was right, Julius?” 

Tyre scrunched his face up, which only made RC grin, practically from ear to ear. RC leaned in close so Tyree could hear him, the sounds of Future’s Freak Hoe thumping from the speakers, making it hard to hear the person next to you - let alone hear yourself think.  

“That you one pussy whipped motherfucker. You changed, nigga.” 

“I’m not listening to a nigga who’s still out here chasing hoes.” 

“At least I’m having fun. You over here checking your phone like you waiting for some STD results or some shit.” 

“You the last nigga I’m finna let talk to me like that. Didn’t you have the clap? Twice?”

“It was once! And fuck you, I told you that shit because I trusted you, you Ronnie DeVoe looking bitch.”

RC’s not-so subtle British accent rolled off his tongue, his words like daggers, piercing the surface of Tyree’s emotions. Any other time, Tyree would’ve been able to ignore it. But this time was different. He felt different. 

Tonight was supposed to be a night of celebrations, yet Tyree was stuck. Trapped. He was supposed to be happy, yet all he could think about was how time was ticking down for him. He was venturing into unknown territory - the hours counting down, leading up to the inevitable moment where he was no longer a boyfriend, a fiance. He was going to be someone’s husband. Tonight was supposed to be his last hurrah before he had to buckle down and get his mind on straight. Yet, his mind was completely elsewhere. And RC’s playful teasing wasn’t making it any better. RC didn’t know, or maybe he did, but all it did was make Tyree think about what he was walking into. 

Like he wasn’t thinking about it enough, already. 

The hours were counting down, leading up until the moment where he was going to be walking down the aisle, but the more he thought about it, the more the nagging voice in the back of his head picked at him. The more the nerves set in, the more his stomach twisted in knots, and the knot in his chest only grew larger. He didn’t know exactly why he felt like that - I mean it was natural to feel nervous right? To feel like you’d fall to pieces? 

But for some reason, Tyree couldn’t shake that it was a symptom of something bigger. Way bigger than just nerves. Bigger than just “cold feet”. Shit, he was feeling frigid. Like a sheet of ice floating in the Antarctic Ocean. Ice fucking cold. 

And he didn’t want to think about that. 

“Nigga, you still got that damn glass in your hand?” 

Leaving his spot at the balcony, Terrell sat down next to Tyree, the expensive, yet popular scent of Dior’s Sauvage cologne following behind him. Dressed to impress in a white and navy blue designer polo shirt, his brother’s heavily tattooed arms were exposed, his brother’s flashy style only amplified by the gigantic, diamond, two-tone cuban link chain around his neck, and the diamond Rolex watch that reflected the lights that flashed above them. From the moment they walked in, Terrell had all eyes on him, gathering attention from everybody they walked past, his personality and demeanor attracting them like moths to a flame. As bottled girls flooded their section with what seemed like endless rounds of drinks, they made sure to be extra nice to Terrell, his charismatic personality and the money he flashed making them swoon. 

“No, this is my-”

“Oh cut the cap nigga, you been sitting there like one of them bronze ass statues for the past hour.” 

Reaching for a drink glass of his own, Terrell poured himself a drink from the slender, tall bottle of 1942, clinking it against Tyree’s glass. 

“For a nigga who’s getting married, you sure acting like you going to a funeral instead.”

“This just isn’t my kind of scene, and you know that.” 

“So? Michelle ain’t here - the fuck is she finna do? Besides, this is your last blowout, man. You already know Michelle’s gonna keep you locked down once you tie the knot.”

Tyree watched as Terrell brought the glass to his lips, tossing back the liquid in the glass without even a second thought. He didn’t even wince as he placed the cup back down on the round, glass table, amongst all the other bottles of liquor and empty cups and glasses that took up space on the small surface, surrounding an ice bucket that sat in the middle of the table. 

But even though Terrell was putting on a larger than life, excited persona for everybody else, Tyree could see straight through it. It was in the way he was looking at him - worried, confused. Apprehensive. 

But that wasn’t new, especially from Terrell. He had been against Tyree marrying Michelle from the moment he saw the forty-thousand dollar engagement ring on her finger. 

 “I can’t believe you’re getting fucking married.”

And in all honesty - Tyree couldn’t believe he was getting married, either. It wasn’t that he had anything against getting married, no, never. He wasn’t afraid of commitment, shit, he wanted to settle down. He already did all the late night hookups, spending thousands of dollars on women he knew it wouldn’t work out with. He had been the boyfriend, the ex boyfriend, the side nigga, friends with benefits - and he was tired of the drama and mess that had came with it. And in his line of work, you needed a partner to keep your secrets. Someone that you could trust. 

But even with all of that, he never saw himself getting married so soon. It sounded good on paper. Perfect, actually. Something that would be the final puzzle pieces to his life. 

But he was only getting older, and his hand was practically forced due to the revelation that Michelle thought she was pregnant. The two of them had been talking about having kids lately, but he didn’t think she was completely serious. And with the way things were going, a better time for things didn’t seem to be stretching over the horizon for him. This was as good as it was going to get. 

But if you asked Terrell - it was a bunch of bullshit to him. He had always been critical of Michelle, even more so now that she was going to become part of the family. The two of them never really got along in the first place, so it wasn’t surprising to Tyree that Terrell was overly critical of their relationship. Michelle thought Terrell was an asshole, and she wasn’t afraid to tell him what she thought about him - which never failed to start all their arguments. And since Terrell wasn’t one to back down, he’d come in quick with telling her how she was a “stuck up, judgemental, spoon fed -” which by then Tyree would usually step in and break them up. 

“Well believe it, cause it’s happening.” 

Terrell rolled his eyes, nudging Tyree’s arm. 

“Well if you’re gonna leave me by myself, the least you could do is drink. You know how expensive all this shit was?”

“Again, I ain’t ask you to do this.”

“Fuck you. It’s a celebration for you. The least your stone cold ass could do is try to enjoy yourself.”

“I’m sick and tired of hearing y’all niggas’ mouths. Fine, whatever.” 

And with a little extra peer pressure from his brother, Tyree finished the drink in his glass, and gulped down the next shot Terrell had poured for him. He downed the next round of shots they all had prepared when Dominic rejoined the group, covered in glitter and lipgloss. And while Tyree decided against asking what mess he had gotten himself into, RC made a toast. 

 “To Tyree, that nigga is all grown up!”

And as the the dark liquor coursed through his veins, Tyree couldn’t help but find himself sucked into the enticing, sexual ambiance that radiated throughout the club, slowly tugging, perminating on his mental. His friends were right - this was his last night before he had to buckle down and fly straight. They were celebrating him, and who was he to refuse? His brother didn’t do all of this for it to go to waste, and it was all in the name of “celebration”. 

That’s what he was supposed to be doing, right? 

All of his worries and the barrage of thoughts about his upcoming wedding, and the pressure he was feeling seemed to fade away with a few drinks, beautiful bottle girls flooding their section with overpriced bottles of liquor, topped off with sparklers while strippers dressed in hues of pastel blues and white danced against them, money beginning to litter the floor beneath their feet. He could feel the booming, fast paced beats in his chest, the melodic tune of Lil Baby and Gunna’s Never Recover echoing throughout the club as the DJ and patrons below them recited the lyrics on time and without missing a beat. 

“Throw that fucking money! We know y’all got it!”

Turning his attention from the conversation he was having with Dominic, the DJ’s loud voice in his ears announced the next set of dancers on the stage, only catching one of their names before the horns and explosion sounds gave way to the next song in the queue.

“Shit..these bitches ain’t no fucking joke!”

As Dominic threw fistfuls of money with no rhyme or reason, Tyree found his eyes glued to the girls that twirled around the pole, the duo dressed in matching, soft blue monokinis. The strappy, barely there outfits stretched over their curves, the rhinestones that adorned the straps twinkling as the light as they spun around, their bodies gliding around the pole. His eyes followed their movements, bouncing between the two of them as they put him in a trance. Mimi, a beautiful girl with long, blonde hair in layers that framed her face, garnered his attention initially, his eyes catching the vibrant colored floral tattoo on her thigh. 

Money burned a hole in his pocket, the intensity of the flames only getting hotter as the other girl on stage caught his attention, his eyes and head following her movements as she climbed up the top of the pole.  The other girl, with caramel skin and curly, black hair that flowed over her shoulder ascended the pole with ease, the platforms of her heels flickering with white light as she contorted her body around the sleek, silver metal pole. Her hair slightly obstructed her face as she spun around upside down, approaching the bottom of the stage quickly, but stopping short before she hit the floor, dangling upside down. Her precise, but graceful movements were hypnotizing, complemented by the money flying in her direction, and hands reaching out from her from around the stage. 

“Go on, throw it. You know you want to. I know you see something you like.” 

Like a devil on his shoulder, Terrell egged him on, squeezing his shoulders as the two of them watched the mystery girl captivate her audience below. Terrell tossed his own stacks of money towards her, and soon Tyree followed suit, the bills slipping from his fingers, raining down on the people below. First went one thousand, then another, and another, free falling throughout the sky, the four men’s bankrolls blanketing the club like a flurry of rain. It just kept coming, and the more Tyree drank, the more money left his pocket - and he didn’t give a fuck where it was going. 

As far as he was concerned, he had already spent a shitload of money on a wedding - funding six college tuitions wasn’t going to put a dent in his pocket. 

“Aye, Tyree!”

Getting Tyree’s attention was Terrell and RC, who dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder. The two of them were well past drunk - well at least RC was anyway, who swayed from side to side like a pendulum, slurring his words. Julius stumbled over his feet as he walked past them, bumping into Tyree on his way to the couch, where he dove face first into the cushions. One of the dancers, who he recognized as Mimi, sat down next to him, propping his face into her lap as she handed him a cup of water. 

“That nigga is done for.”

“You think? Anyways, I got someone I want you to meet.” 

He watched as Terrell waved over a beautiful dark skin girl, dressed in a similar outfit to all the other dancers Tyree had seen running around tonight. Terrell wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and the woman introduced herself as Fancy, whose voice was smooth, and sultry, with a pretty smile to match. Her burgundy red hair complimented her skin tone, and she looked him up and down, her eyes lingering on the Audemars Piguet watch that adorned Tyree’s wrist. It was almost like she was analyzing him, and even though he stood taller than her, she kept consistent eye contact with him. 

“You ready for your dance?”

“Uh, I didn’t order a dance.”

Tyree’s face twisted up in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together. Fancy kissed her teeth, rolling her eyes as she looked between the set of twins, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah you did, remember?”

“I-”

“Well someone paid five stacks for a dance - either of yall finna let that go to waste?” 

Tyree already knew that this was Terrell’s doing, judging by the stupid, slick grin across his face, and the laugh that came from him. It was just like Terrell to set him up like this - he was always getting the two of them in trouble, and this was just another one of the tricks Terrell kept up his sleeves at all times.

“Five?”

“Pocket change, really.”

Terrell shrugged, unbothered that he just spent someone’s down payment on a car in record breaking time. 

Before Tyree had time to object, Terrell was already pushing in the direction of the stairs, Fancy grabbing the front of his white Heron Preston shirt, the fabric pinched between her well manicured index finger and thumb. With Terrell following behind them, Fancy grabbed his hand, leading them through the stuffed crowd of people, packed in together like sardines, nearly taking up all the space and breathing room available. Tyree couldn’t even run if he wanted to - there was nowhere for him to go, and with the firm grip Fancy had on his hand, she definitely wasn’t going to let him get away. Not a chance.

They finally came out on the other side of the crowd at the private rooms, which was a long hallway with a set of doors fixed into the walls on either side. An LED sign hung overhead, reading “The Jewelry Store”, in bright blue, cursive letters, and underneath stood two security guards that blocked the entrance. Dressed in all black, they both stood tall, with their chests puffed out, and stoic, frigid expressions across their faces as their eyes scanned everybody that walked past them. 

One was dressed in a black shirt and vest, with a gun holstered to his hip, while the other had a well detailed scorpion tattooed on his neck, white light that briefly swept over their side of the club allowing Tyree to see the intricate shading and linework of the ink. They looked Tyree, Fancy, and Terrell up and down, giving their sole attention to Fancy who leaned up on her tip-toes to speak to them. 

While they talked, Tyree looked around, feeling a wave of uneasiness wash over him. Sure, he had been in strip clubs before, dragged along because of Terrell, but never had he done anything like this. This spelled out trouble, big trouble, and he knew that if Michelle knew what he was doing, he'd never hear the end of it. 

But deep down, way deep down inside, part of him was curious. Where this curiosity came from, he didn’t know, but it kept him from walking away, keeping his feet firmly planted in place. 

With one last, analyzing, throughout stare before unhooking the gate, the guards gave their approval to the group, one of them joining the walk as Fancy led the way down the hallway, which seemed to stretch on forever to Tyree. The music was much quieter, and subdued in this part of the club, and Tyree could hear their footsteps as Fancy brought them to their destination, her heels clacking against the concrete floor, the shimmery silver tassels on her heels shaking back and forth as she walked. 

“Here you go.”

“What?”

Pushing him towards the door, Tyree went bursting through the door, nearly sent flying into the room by Terrell. 

“Have fun. She won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Terrell-”

Tyree could feel the wind from the door closing against his face as he stood there in complete confusion, reaching for the door before it swung back into the door frame, leaving him alone in the room - or so he thought. 

“First time?” 

Caught off guard from the sudden voice as he stepped further into the room, he spun around, his eyes settling on the large mirror that was fixed to the wall. Standing in front of the mirror was the mystery woman he recognized from the stage, who fluffed out her hair, making eye contact with his reflection in the mirror. She smiled softly at Tyree, unfazed by the baffled expression that had washed over his face, trying to process what had just happened. 

“Yes? Wait - no, no!” 

Tyree shook his head, tossing his hands in front of him, unsure of why he was reassuring her, and what he was even reassuring her of in the first place. A soft laugh came from the woman, who gestured for Tyree to take a seat on the couch. Not wanting to be rude, he obliged, slinking into the soft, fabric couch beneath him, watching her step up onto the small stage in front of him. 

Michelle was going to absolutely kill him. 

The thought of Michelle finding out was sobering. How would she find out? He didn’t know, but the mere thought of that kind of confrontation sent his mind reeling. He might be able to get away with going to a strip club - you know, stretch the truth a bit about what he did for his bachelor party when she asked - but there was no way he was going to be able to spin getting a lap dance. She was going to be able to smell the club on him, he just knew it. It was practically undeniable. 

“What’s your name?”

Pulling him from his obsessive thoughts was the mystery woman, who stood leaning against the pole in front of him, her arm wrapped around the metal. He tried his hardest not to look at her, wanting to avoid the reality of his situation. He looked all over the room, grasping for anything, something but the woman standing in the middle of the room to grasp his attention. The plush, gray couch spread out across the wall, simple, black paint covering all four walls. The light above bathed the room in a soft shade of blue, while along the floor was lined with white light strips. 

And no matter where he looked, he could see her out of the corner of his eye, slowly twirling around the pole, her attention locked on him. 

“Tyree.”

Wiping his sweaty hands on the denim fabric of his khaki, Jacquemus jeans, he accepted his fate, looking at her. She smiled at him again, Tyree subconsciously taking note of her warm, inviting smile, and her sweet, calming voice. 

He didn’t know why he gave her his name, but then again, he didn’t know why he was in this room. He didn’t know why he was here, period. As the alcohol began to catch up to him, his brain was practically screaming at him to get up, to leave, to be anywhere but here, that this situation screamed trouble - yet his feet stayed firmly planted. 

He could feel his nerves peaking, rushing to the top as the room filled with an uncomfortable, awkward tension. The subtle scent of weed and perfume hung heavy in the air, while silence overtook them, neither one of them opting to say anything further. Or rather, Tyree didn’t say anything further. 

Yet, the mystery girl didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she acted like the tension didn’t even exist.  

“So Tyree, how old are you?”

Was this what all the dancers did? Ask for your personal information? What’s next, she would ask what for the last four of his social security number?

“Twenty-seven. You?”

Yet, he still surrendered an answer to her question - Tyree unable to not notice how pretty she was, or rather, a voice in the back of his head acknowledged her it. He tried to ignore the new series of thoughts springing to life in his brain, breaking eye contact with her to reel his focus back in. 

“Twenty-four, but my birthday is in two weeks. I’m a Cancer. What about you?” 

“You believe in that zodiac stuff?”

“Yeah. When’s your birthday?”

She waited patiently for his answer as she twirled about the pole, the flashing white lights in her shoes beckoning for his attention. Even with his back pressed firmly against the couch, he could see the details of her outfit as she moved, giving him a full 360 view of how her outfit clung to her curves, stretching out over his hips, the thong seemingly swallowed between her ass cheeks. He wasn’t supposed to be noticing these details, and he swallowed hard, feeling his throat go dry. 

Just keep talking, Tyree. It’ll be over in no time. 

“August twenty-second.”

As if they weren’t already close enough, stifled by the stuffy, thick, tensioned air between them, she stepped down from the stage, standing in front of him. His heart thumped with each movement she made, his pace quickening as she leaned over, placing his hands on his knees, bringing her face close to his. He felt the smallest of shocks by her unexpected movements, glancing down at her hands. 

He didn’t know how, but her nails were the exact same shade of her outfit, adorned with gems and jewels, twinkling in the overhead light. Her long, manicured nails stretched over her fingers, gently grazing his knees. 

“Of course you’re a Virgo. I bet you’re a real critical person, huh? Always think you know better than everybody else?”

She spoke softly, almost whispering, ending her sentence with the same, nerve inducing smile she kept giving him. He rolled his eyes, knowing that she was right - but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that. 

“But isn’t that everyone?”

“I don’t know, is it?”

The two of them fell silent, but the tension before them had seemed to disappear, melting away in the matter of a few questions. In their silence, Tyree was finally able to get a good look at her, his eyes dropping to her lips, which were covered in a pink, glittery shade of lipgloss that made her plump lips stand out. Body glitter decorated her exposed, honey colored skin, and he noticed the beauty mark on her shoulder. Thoughts about how soft she looked slowly took over his mind, his eyes wandering down to her cleavage, before he realized what he was doing. 

A lurking, ruminating thought in the back of his head kept questioning if she was as soft as she looked, tempting, beckoning him to make the move. He couldn’t shake it loose, the thought holding on for dear life, taunting him as she invaded his personal space - not that he was complaining. That’s all he had to do, right? She wouldn’t mind, right? They were already this close - 

But what about Michelle? 

Michelle - his beautiful fiancee. The one he was about to get married to. The girl of his dreams. His best friend. 

He kept trying to jog his memory of her - visualize her face in his head, yet that all became a distant memory as the woman before him climbed into his lap. His common sense begged him to get up and go - take him as far as his legs could take go, but yet again, his feet stayed firmly planted, another side of Tyree taking over, one that was fully falling into the trance that seemed to be taking hold of him. 

Taking his larger hands in her delicate ones, she placed them on her waist, the voice in the back of his head finally getting its answer. 

She was soft. Real soft. 

And she smells good. Real good. 

But pushing to the forefront of his mind was his fiance, Tyree unable to control the word salad that spilled out of his mouth. 

“I’m getting married in two days.”

He licked his lips nervously, his eyes searching her face for a response. He was sure she had her fair share of men that came through that were in his position. “Celebrating” their marriages by spending their last few moments gawking over other women, as if a ring and some vows were supposed to prevent a wandering eye. Tyree couldn’t help but wonder if that made her think about him differently. He wasn’t sure why he was so concerned about her opinion in the first place, but maybe it wasn’t really about her opinion, as much as it was about his. He couldn’t shake the lingering, overwhelming feeling that he was a bad person. He knew that he didn’t belong here, that this wasn’t his scene, that situations like this only invited drama, like his relationship wasn’t already rocky enough. 

His engagement ring catches his eye, the black, titanium band wrapped around his left ring finger, inset with matching black diamonds. It felt like only yesterday when Michelle and him were picking out rings, yet here he was, with his hand resting against a stranger’s asscheek. One that he only exchanged names with moments ago. 

But if she did have any ill feelings to what Tyree had admitted, he couldn’t tell, judging by her blank, unbothered expression. He half expected her to scold him, to get up and tell him to get his ass out of here, to ask him what the hell he was doing here. But she did none of that.

She just..continued their conversation, not missing a beat, breezing past his announcement like he had just told her that the sky was blue. 

“Marriage is a big commitment,”

She told him as she guided his hands along her body, the pads of his fingers sliding along the curve of her waist as she moved her body to the beat of the music. She maintained eye contact with him, Tyree opting to focus on her almond shaped, dark brown eyes, instead of how smooth her skin felt against his hands. Fuck. 

“You ready for that?” 

“I don’t know, it seems like the right thing to do.”

That was a loaded question - yet it wasn’t one that he hadn’t asked himself a thousand times before. In fact, it was all he thought about recently. In between planning an elaborate wedding, picking out cakes and decorations and finalizing guests lists, the deep seated feeling of reluctance continued to set in. He thought that by now he’d be over it, able to push past it. But as the hours ticked on - the worse he felt. He wasn’t able to shake it off. 

“But is that what you wanna do?” 

But that’s because the feeling wasn’t going anywhere. No matter how bad he wanted it to. No matter how many times he forced himself to smile through fittings for his tuxedo, or the countless times he had looked through venues and talked to planners, and put down all these deposits. The feeling in his chest only continued to grow, threatening to consume him if he didn’t do anything about it. 

And her innocent, well meaning question only answered his worst fears. Planted the seeds of feelings he had buried deep down, had convinced himself that he didn’t mean it. That it was just a phase. 

Dropping his hands to his sides, he sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. He couldn’t hide from the truth anymore, and the fact that he was in this situation confirmed everything. He was drunk, unhappy, and lonely, feeling more connected to the pretty girl sitting in his lap than the girl he had known since they were teenagers. And he was beating himself up for feeling that way. 

Michelle and him were the perfect love story. They were supposed to work out. They were supposed to be together forever, and live happily ever after. 

But he couldn’t fake it any more. Even though he really wanted to. 

But he couldn’t break things off. Not now. It was too late. For fuck’s sake, they were about to get married in less than seventy-two hours! It wouldn’t be the right thing to do. 

But what about how he felt?

That was something he hadn’t given much thought to until she had asked. 

“You know, you’re the first guy I’ve seen who feels bad about it.”

He leaned his head back up, meeting the sad expression on her face. 

“About what?”

His words slurred together, the syllables falling against each other due to the alcohol that washed over him, along with his feelings. It was like a wave crashing against the shore, the feelings he had pushed away, compartmentalized in the depths of his brain were rushing in with full force, ready to wipe out everything in its wake. It oozed out of him, out of his thoughts, dripping from his words. 

“About not being in love with a girl who loves them. Most guys don’t care.” 

“Or does that mean I’m an even worse piece of shit?”

He tilted his head back, feeling tears sting the back of his eyes. Tyree wasn’t one for crying, and he wasn’t about to cry now. Not here. Not now. And damn sure not in front of a stranger - regardless of how sweet she seemed to be. He wasn’t going to be one of those cliche niggas who poured their heart out to a stripper, when they really needed a therapist. Not that he needed a therapist, either.

He felt a gentle hand reach at his face, her fingers caressing the side of his face, gingerly tilting his head back down to make him look at her. 

“You’re not a bad guy, but sometimes you gotta live for yourself. Not for what someone else wants you to do.”

She spoke as if she had been in a position like that before - but the pessimist in Tyree made him wonder if she was being genuine, telling him that her wisdom had only come from the amount of guys who had probably told her the same thing before. She had no real reason to be nice to him - aside for money, yet something was telling him that she meant that for real, and was only trying to empathize with him. But then again, she was getting paid five grand for this “dance”. 

She was getting paid to be nice. 

But he didn’t want to think about that. What was he thinking? He didn’t mean any of that. Of course he loved Michelle. He wouldn’t stick around if he didn’t. If the feelings between them weren’t genuine. If their relationship didn’t mean anything to him. Michelle was the only woman he felt close to, that he could trust with anything. It was just cold feet. Everybody felt that way before they got married, right? 

And to avoid answering that, he did what he knew best.

Deflect. 

“Why are you here? You don’t seem like the kind of girl who would be in a place with this.”

She grinned, like she knew he was only asking about her so that it would take the heat off of himself. She didn’t call him out on it, and he was grateful. He was desperate to talk about anything else. 

“And what kind of girl do you think I am?”

He wasn’t expecting her to flip it back on him, though. 

“I don’t know, I’m just talking-” 

He stammed over her his words, falling flat on his attempt to get out the hot seat.

“I don’t know, you’re just being nicer than you have to be to me.” 

“You must think I’m paying for school or something. That’s what all you guys think, right?”

Tyree shook his head, squirming underneath her, which clearly amused her. She took her teasing a step further, continuing to playfully pick at him.

“You got a fantasy about saving a girl from the club? That turns you on?”

“N-No, I was just-”

She burst into laughter, interrupting his messy explanation, tossing her head back. She swept her hair over her shoulder, almost doubling over with laughter, the sound of her laugh just barely echoing in the room. She was laughing so hard she almost fell out of his lap, Tyree’s hands instinctively pulling her against him before she fell to the floor. The quick motion caused her to grind against the seat of his pants, a jolt of electricity running from his fingertips throughout his body. 

Her laughter stopped almost instantly, a heavy blanket of tension falling over the both of them. It lingered in the air, almost stifling the breaths Tyree took. Did she feel it too?

There was no denying it - he was definitely attracted to her. 

If Tyree wasn’t already in the middle of it - he was definitely approaching the danger zone. And the alarm bells that were firing off in his head were telling him that. Unfortunately, the sound of them was only subdued by the alcohol in his system, the same alcohol that was filling his mind with inappropriate thoughts. Thoughts about the pretty girl in his lap, when he should’ve been thinking about his future wife. 

But the thought of Michelle is so far away with this girl in his face. 

“I’m just a regular stripper,”

She leaned in close, her breath tickling his neck. She spoke in a soft whisper, pressing her body against his, the scent of her vanilla and brown sugar perfume filling his nose, her hand caressing the back of his neck, her fingers dragging along the chain around his neck.  

“But I do think you’re kinda cute.”

Her soft voice against his skin made him twitch in his pants, something deep, deep down within him stirring awake. She guided his hands over her hips and ass, his hands lingering in that position as she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning in close to him. 

The inappropriate thoughts only continued in his mind, this time stepping to the very front, ruminating over the endless possibilities that seemed to race through his mind. She smelled so good, and her skin felt so good, he couldn’t help but hopelessly wonder what if she felt even better. His mind poked and prodded him with suggestive thoughts, fantasies forming in the back of his mind - wondering what she looked like without the outfit. What she sounded like. Even better - what she sounded like saying his name. 

It was just the two of them in this room - they could do anything. They had enough time to do whatever they wanted, and nobody would ever know. Not Terrell, not the security guard, and damn sure not Michelle. It could be their little secret. That wasn’t so bad, right?

Their faces inched closer to one another, Tyree’s breath catching in his chest, while the sexual tension between them bubbled over, approaching a crescendo. Could she feel it too? Or was he just crazy? 

But he’d never get the answer to that question. 

Loud, forceful knocking on the door cut straight through their moment, and she pulled away, Tyree exhaling sharply. 

“Time’s up.”

Tyree felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders when she stood up. His breathing returned to normal, the pressure that was building in his chest seeming to disappear as he snapped out of her trance. When he stood up, he swayed slightly from side to side, trying to gain his bearings. The room was spinning, his head was spinning, and so was his stomach. Why’d he drink so much?

As if she noticed, she took his hand, guiding him out of the room and back down the lengthy hallway. With each wobbly, drunken step he took, he tried to match her decisive, smaller steps. The music was pounding, reverberating through his body, almost like a breath of fresh air from whatever situation he had gotten - or almost got himself into in that room. 

He wandered over to the bar, not noticing that the mystery woman had left his side until his brother appeared in his face, sliding a cup of water in his direction. 

Any other time he might’ve been relieved to see Terrell, but after the shit he pulled, he didn’t even want to look at him. It was like looking into a mirror - a mirror that reflected his fuck ups and bad decisions right back at him, and reflected his own stupidity. Fortunately, it wasn’t like Tyree could see his face clearly, anyways - his head was swirling. Swirling with alcohol induced confusion, beating him up about his even more confused perceptions about Michelle, and his attraction to a scantily clad stranger - who represented temptation thinly veiled behind invasive questions and well intentioned advice. 

He couldn’t believe he actually considered cheating on Michelle. His future wife. The woman he had been with and pined over on and off since he was eighteen. His family. The future mother of his kids. 

Even if it was just a kiss - how far could it have really gone? He wanted to lie to himself, tell himself that he was stronger than that, better than that. He wasn’t a cheater. He didn’t want to throw away his relationship for just a moment of weakness. A moment of pleasure. If he was so strong, why couldn’t he stop replaying that blimp in time? Why couldn’t he ignore that feeling of her breath on his neck, the way her fingers lightly danced across the back of his neck? The way her voice sounded like a melody in his ears? 

What was he doing? What was wrong with him? He was going to marry Michelle and that was it. He was going to fix things. Fly straight and erase this night, and her, from his mind. He loved Michelle. He wanted to be with her - he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her - even though that seemed like a long, fucking time. Then what was the issue? Why was he so hung up on some girl he didn’t even know? He didn’t even know her name!

Because - he didn’t really want to get married. 

Hell, he didn’t want to have kids now. Not where he was at in his life. Not with what he did with his life. He didn’t want to bring a child into this world with the dirt he did. It would be putting too much at risk. 

More importantly, he wasn’t happy. 

“You alright man?”

Terrell shook his shoulders, his face flushing with worry, while the array of lights overhead bathed his face in hues of blue and purple. Tyree weaseled out of his grasp, putting some distance between them, nodding his head. 

“I’m good, I just need some fresh air.”

He doubted Terrell could hear him over the music, but he assumed Terrell got the hint when he didn’t follow him outside. 

Greeting him as he pushed through the set of black, double doors at the entrance was the muggy, humid air of Atlanta’s nightlife. Planes flew overhead in the sky, the stars obstructed from the bright, white and yellow toned lights that decorated nearly every building and street corner around the club. The line outside was still long - people still packing in, hoping to get a taste of the party inside, itching to cross the threshold into endless fantasy. The parking lot was full, folks posted up near their cars, some of them taking pictures while others played dice games or shared liquor from bottles they knew they couldn’t bring inside. 

Overhead was the sign for Club Crystal, the striking bright blue sticking out like an eyesore among the other buildings surrounding them. 

Tyree exhaled, leaning against the wall, pulling out his phone.

It was three fifteen exactly, and the club was scheduled to close in about forty minutes. He was surprised his phone was even still on - the battery on five percent, hanging on by a thread, much like how he was feeling himself at this moment. 

Even fresh air couldn’t shake the feeling Tyree harbored in his chest, his heart beating rhythmically to his breaths as he contemplated his next move.

There was only one move to do, honestly. 

And he was dreading taking the first step. 

In the back of his mind, way deep down - which was inching closer to the front little by little, taking giant leaps - he knew that the dancer was right. You can’t live your life for others. You can’t go along with someone else’s plans just because they love you. It would be selfish of him to continue a life with Michelle that he wasn’t happy with, just because it made her happy. Her happiness meant a lot to him, so why didn’t it make him happy?

But he didn’t want to hurt Michelle. 

And even though she would hate him, he knew she’d hate him even more if he followed through and couldn’t keep up the facade. It would absolutely crush her, and the thought of having to “fake it to make it” was going to crush him too. It was too late to get his deposits back and refunds for everything he had paid for already, but he had the money to not have to worry about that. And even though he’d never get that back, it was never too late to get peace of mind for his decisions and needs. 

Staring down at the text message thread between him and Michelle, his fingers hovered over the keyboard. The last time they had talked was hours ago, right before they went their separate ways for their parties. Cutesy, sugary-sweet exchanges of “I love yous” flooded in between their regular conversations, with Michelle’s last message telling him to have fun, but not too much fun. 

Tyree wasn’t one to be dumbfounded, or just draw blank - but for the first time in a while, he didn’t know what to say. For once, the overworking, clanking and crashing together gears that symbolized his brain were paralyzed, like someone threw a wrench dead center in the middle of it all. 

“You think that wing place will be open?” 

“It’s Friday, it might be.”

“I’d rather have Waffle House - they got them big ass chicken wings at that spot! It be making me feel like I’m really eating an animal.” 

“That’s cause it's..really a chicken, Mimi.” 

“I know, but baby chicks are so cute..I feel so bad for eating their parents.” 

Tyree looked up briefly from his phone as the three women exited through the doors next to him, engrossed in their conversation about what they were looking to eat. Dressed in sweatsuits and carrying stuffed, duffle bags on their shoulders, a security guard came out trailing behind them, escorting them through the parking lot. Tyree recognized two of them as Fancy and Mimi, watching them as the security guard pushed past drunk party-goers who stood outside, hoping to make a move on them, hollering a variety of obscenities. 

Although their faces were relatively familiar, the third woman was who he recognized the most. 

And here she was, approaching him from across the parking lot. 

Separating from her group, she dragged her feet beneath her, adjusting the pink bag on her shoulder. She walked slowly, walking through the line of cars that were trying to get out of the parking lot, and he noticed she kept constantly looking back and forth with almost each step. Almost like she was looking for someone, something. 

Tyree could feel his heart quicken in his chest, and by the time they were face to face, he felt like it was about to jump out of his chest and fall flat onto the ground between them. His hands were clammy, sweating, and he tightened his grip on his phone, finding himself anticipating her words, feeling himself slowly falling into that trance. The temptation. 

“You okay?”

Was all she said, keeping the distance between the two of them. Her demeanor had shifted, and he noticed she looked withdrawn, shrunken into herself, completely different from the woman who seemed to be in control of the situation between them not too long ago. Dressed casually, the black, cropped tank top and brown flared sweatpants were a stark contrast from her previous outfit, having exchanged her tall, platform heels for plain, black Crocs. Her hair framed the soft, beautiful features of her face, her arms and chest sparkling with shimmery, body glitter. 

“I don’t know,” 

He sighed, trying to shake loose the knot forming in his chest. 

He just had to take the first step.

Nothing major, right?

But the first step was always the hardest step. 

“But shit, I will be.”

Sending off a quick message to Michelle, telling her that they needed to talk, he locked his phone and pushed it back into the front pocket of his jeans. He gave his full attention to the woman before him, who tilted his head at him, her eyes analyzing him, seeing the slightest hint of a pitying, sympathetic look tugging at her features. They were quiet, taking each other in, an uneasy, weighted tension inching in between their lack of conversation. 

It was clear she didn’t know what to say, and neither did he, but it seemed like she understood what he meant without him having to explain it further.

She looked over her shoulder, at the black, Dodge Durango where her friends were waiting, hanging out of the window. They had been watching their exchange for the past few minutes, and the driver flashed their lights, signaling for her to hurry things up. She looked back at him, something lingering in her eyes, like she had something to say, but was unable to piece it together. 

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” 

She sighed, adjusting the bag on her shoulder again, looking him over, like she was savoring the moment between them.

“Well good night, Tyree.” 

“Yeah, good night-”

“Yaya.”

He nodded, finally able to put a face to the name. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he didn’t expect it to be so simple. So easy, slipping from her lips smoothly. He found himself repeating it in his mind, bouncing back and forth between the two syllables like a metronome. 

“Good night, Yaya.”

Smiling at him, she spun on her heel, and with a slight bounce in her step and a subtle switch of her hips, she headed back to her friends. 

But something in Tyree wasn’t just going to let her walk away so easily. 

And Yaya only made it halfway across the parking lot before Tyree’s own footsteps trailed behind her, the last bit of liquid courage flushing through his bloodstream. 

“Yaya!”

“Hm?”

She stopped in place, watching as he closed the distance between them. He towered over her smaller frame, and she looked up at him, a ready listener for whatever he decided to say next.

“Can I get your number?”

“Ain’t you finna get married?”

Yaya knitted her eyebrows together, her face scrunching up in disbelief. She crossed her arms over her chest, cocking her head sideways, the stern, stiff look she gave Tyree leaving him to pick up the pieces of the waning courage he once had. He could feel himself sobering up by the second - kicking himself for his forwardness. 

“I uh..”

Rolling her eyes at him, she turned back around, starting to walk away from him. Yet, Tyree followed, calling her name again. 

“It’s Amaiyah.”

“Huh?”

She shook her head, her arms still crossed over her chest. They stood a few feet away from each other, and Tyree could see the security guard that stood at the hood of the car, eyeing him. It was the same security guard from earlier, with the scorpion tattoo. Time was ticking, and if Tyree was going to make a move, he needed to do so sooner rather than later. And judging from the expression written across her face, Tyree’s time was about to run out at any moment. 

“My name. I’m not a stripper twenty-four seven. Call me Amaiyah.”

Uh-mai-yuh. His brain savored it, just like it did with her dancer name. Pretty name for a pretty girl. It suited her. 

“It suits you.”

Come on, Tyree. You got to have something way better than that. 

“Why should I give you my number?”

Amaiyah stepped towards him, Tyree trying to figure out what to say before he was staring down at her face again. 

And he couldn’t come up with shit.

She snickered, knowing she had caught him off guard, staring up into his eyes again. She stared long and hard too, like she was trying to get a clear read on him, debating if he was well worth the risk. And for the first time in a long time, Tyree felt like a high schooler, the look in her eyes reminding him of how a parent would over analyze someone coming over to take their daughter on a date. 

But then her eyes softened, and a wave of relief flushed over him. He passed her checklist. Good. 

She held her hand out, and he didn’t hesitate to slip his unlocked phone into her hand. He watched patiently as typed her number in, adding herself to his short list of contacts. The bright light from his phone reflected in her face, and she locked it back before she handed it to him, pushing it into his hand. 

“Figure your shit out and then come see me again.”

“How am I supposed to know the next time you work?”

The cynic in him told him that it was just a ploy to get him back in the club, back in that cesspool of sexual tension and lust, clouded with free flowing alcoholic drinks. She thought he was a sucker - that she’d get him to spend every last dollar he had on her-

“I work every Wednesday through Saturday,”

She broke his rapid train of thought, bursting the bubble of negative thoughts that tried to balloon up. 

“Don’t text me if you change your mind. I’m not a homewrecker.”

He nodded, listening intently as her subtle accent popped at the end of her words. She sounded like she was from out of town, her accent covered by a thin blanket of that familiar, southern, Atlanta twang. Her face was serious, and her words told him she meant business. 

And Tyree was all about his business. 

With an unspoken understanding between them, and a feminine wave, she turned on her heel, heading back towards her ride. Fancy and Mimi eyed him as Amaiyah climbed into the SUV, and he could hear them teasing her, their voices being drowned out by the low rumble of the engine, the car’s headlights shining against his legs.  

With her number in his phone, and a confident pep in his step, he headed back in the direction of the club. People spilled out from the doors as people filtered in, stumbling over their own feet as they walked. One woman nearly fell to her knees, but caught herself just as a fountain of throw up spilled out from her. Gross.

As people avoided the woman - who had to throw up again - Tyree scanned the crowd for his friends, meeting them halfway as he saw them split off from the people wandering out to their cars. Leading the group was Terrell, with RC and Dominic following close behind, Dominic practically being dragged out by RC, who was holding him up. 

“I was wondering where you went.”

Terrell wrapped his arms around Tyree’s shoulders, the two of them watching RC struggle to help Dominic stand on his own two feet. RC had since sobered up - but Tyree could tell he was still pretty drunk, judging by the way he staggered back and forth. If a relatively strong gust of wind came through, Dominic would’ve ended up right on the ground.

 It wasn’t a surprise to Tyree that Dominic was wasted - that was typically his thing whenever they all went out. Dominic was the only grown ass man he knew that would purposely go past his limit and end up blackout drunk. This was no exception, in fact, the fact that tonight was so special only gave Dominic even more of a reason to get that drunk. 

“Who’s that?”

RC pointed past Tyree, which made Terrell turn his head to look behind his brother. He knew RC was referring to Amaiyah and her friends in the car behind them, and he could still hear the rumble of the car, and see the headlights that shined straight in their direction. Tyree shook his head, waving his question off, keeping the events of tonight close to his chest. It was already tossed in the metaphorical lockbox in his head, wiped clean from the rest of his brain. He played into the facade, however, glancing over his shoulder briefly. 

“I don’t know. Nice car though.”

“Can we get food? I’m fucking starving.” 

Domonic spoke through his slurred speech, the words coming out all at once, sounding like his mouth was filled with water. He groaned as RC shifted his weight, Julius rolling his eyes as he dragged Domonic in the direction of the car. They joined the crowd of people, walking to Terrell’s forest green Lamborghini Urus at the far end of the parking lot. 

Behind them, the Durango eased around them, cutting into the flow of cars that were formed in a line to leave. It rolled to a stop in front of the twins, the Toyota and several other cars behind them beginning to honk as the line halted. Tyree and Terrell exchanged glances, the limousine style window tints reflecting their image right back at them. The driver side window rolled down slowly, revealing the driver to be a brown skin man with face tattoos, an ankh tattooed under his right eye. He looked them up and down before leaning back, Tyree realizing that Fancy was in the passenger seat. She leaned forward across her seat, her eyes locked on Terrell, a smirk stretched across her face. 

“Bye Terrell.” 

A goofy smile danced across Terrell’s face, a smile Tyree had seen one too many times. He didn’t even have to ask to understand the picture being painted in front of him, and he shook his head at his brother’s antics. 

“Bye Fancy..”

With their goodbyes exchanged, the driver rolled the window back up, giving the two of them an acknowledging nod. He sped forward, disregarding the people honking behind him, swerving around a group of people walking across the parking lot. The Durango cut to the front of the line, Tyree watching as it pulled out onto the street, heading in the opposite direction of the club, the crackle of the car’s engine fading out into the distance.

“So,”

Terrell turned to him, a sly grin replacing the smile on his face. He could already tell what he was thinking, and Tyree refused to give into the excited, expectant look in his brother’s eyes. Tyree wasn’t saying a word. What happened tonight was between him, Amaiayah, and what happened in the private room inside Club Crystal. And that’s exactly how he wanted to keep it - private. 

Too bad Terrell was already one step ahead of him. 

“You get her number? Don’t lie to me, nigga.”

Tyree couldn’t fight the smile he had, and Terrell grinned, shaking him back and forth, laughing. And knowing he was caught, Tyree unlocked his phone to show him proof. The screen opened right back up to Amaiyah’s contact information, where she left her name with a pink heart next to it.

“Yeah, I did-”

With newfound confidence and all the cockiness in the world, he handed the phone to Terrell, only for his face to fall flat when Terrell burst out in laughter, practically doubling over onto the ground. 

“What? The fuck are you-”

Snatching the phone back, Tyree looked over the screen, trying to figure out what was so damn funny all of a sudden. Terrell was still laughing, wrapping his arms around his stomach as deep laughs escaped from his chest, ones that left him gasping for air and unable to form a clear sentence. 

Then he saw it - right there - staring back at him, were the nine digits of Amaiyah’s phone number. Not the normal, required ten. 

“Looks like she got you-”

“You got makeup on your shirt.”

Stopping Terrell’s laughter in his tracks, Tyree pointed at the big makeup stain on the front of his shirt. Terrell’s face dropped, pulling at the hem of his shirt, getting a clear look at the well defined makeup stain. He kissed his teeth, sighing harshly, and threw his hands up into the air, Tyree half expecting him to start throwing a tantrum. 

“Fuck, this shirt was Prada!” 

“And now it’s nada.”

“Nigga, fuck you!”

[danpuff-ao3]

my year in fic - 2022

Thanks for the tag @broomsticks! I've got a compilation list coming out on 12/31 that will feature all of my 2022 accomplishments, but I hope no one minds if I do another fic spotlight for this year! It's always fun to look back at what I managed in a year!

Tagging: @liladiurne, @writcraft, @perverse-idyll, @necromanticnoir, @ripeteeth, @lizzy0305, @likelightinglass, @givereadersahug, @inarticulateimbecile, @fleetingdesires, @bluesundaycake, @cindle-writes, @onbeinganangel, and uhhhh...anyone who wants to! And no pressure to those I've tagged! Just an invitation to join the funsies, if you like! 💖💛

❄️ January

Partygoers - (Snarry, E, 100.) New Years drabble. Harry wants a kiss.

Partygoers laugh and cheer within the manor, sound muffled by the doors. Harry presses Severus against the balcony railing. Leans in. Severus turns his face away. Harry mouths at his neck instead.

Welcome to the Family - (Lucius/Ron, Hermione/Narcissa, Draco/Sirius, Harry/Snape, M, 4k.) Written for Rare Pair Fest 21/22. Valentine’s Day goes from bad to worse when Draco discovers his parents’ secret relationships.

“Calm down, darling,” Narcissa says. “Listen, my love, listen.” Draco would like to tell her he doesn’t need this sort of coddling, except that he does. “Sometimes, when a man and a woman respect each other very much and are in need of an heir, they marry and perform the…necessary physical requirements to produce a pregnancy.” 

“Isn’t this supposed to go ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’?” Draco asks.

Narcissa and Lucius share a look. 

A Matter of Time - (Snarry, E, 3k.) Written for Snarry Adopt-a-Prompt. Severus is outed as a spy and grievously injured. Harry doesn’t react well, leading those closest to him to wonder: Just why is Harry so devastated about Severus’ condition?

Now that Harry has witnessed Severus’ vulnerability, he is content to be manhandled into Severus’ arms. Harry winds arms and legs — skinny, but strong — around Severus, and tucks his head into Severus’ neck. And as Severus squeezes him in close, Harry wiggles in even closer. Until Severus is unsure where one ends and the other begins. Until he cannot tell his own heartbeat from Harry’s, his own breath. 

Harry mumbles three words into Severus neck, that Severus pretends not to hear. Instead he presses his mouth to Harry’s head to stifle untamed sentiment. 

9 January 2022 - (Snarry, T, 1k.) Severus turns 62.

Shiny black wrapping paper sits neatly folded on the table. Gold and silver balloons bob over Severus’ head. A stack of sparkly pink candles. Warm, moist spice cake. A cold, snowy day. Silliness and tradition.

And love, a warm glow in Severus’ dark eyes, even as Severus mocks the cake and the mittens and the childish decorations. Harry listens to his eyes, not his words, and he smiles. 

smile with sweet surprise - (Snarry, E, WIP.) Updated with chapter 2. Harry is barely sixteen. Had barely blown out his candle when Severus kissed him.

Severus ducks his head and looks down at his boots. Black boots that trampled over the rainbow path. A bit of purple ribbon curls out from beneath his foot. Severus grinds his boot down into it, then kicks it away.

Never again. He’ll never touch Harry again. 

Severus steps back and draws his wand to clean the mess they made. 

🌹 February

The Alchymist II - (Snarry, Kingco, Snarry/Kingco, E, 4k.) Written for Kinkuary. Sequel to The Alchymist. 2 married couples, 1 hotel room = a lot of fun and a lot of trouble.

Severus is not alone in his jealous nature, but it is his jealousy that has been tested the most. Since their night with Draco, Harry has not strayed beyond casual touches and mild flirtation. Still, it is enough to send Severus up the wall. Every violent, hateful desire in Severus’ soul rises to the surface each time. Wars with his desire, and the pleasure of beauty. And this — Harry touching not one, but two others, is more loathing and arousal than he can stand. 

But Severus has been tested time and again. And he accepted long ago the depths of his own madness where Harry Potter is concerned. 

Obscene - (Snarry, E, 1k.) Written for Kinkuary. Never has Severus been so wet outside of heat. It’s humiliating; obscene.

Severus didn’t dare look him in the eye, that first night, but he glares into them now. He’d rather be bent over the desk. Would rather not see or be seen, but his pride damns him. 

Now he’s cursed by the sight of Potter’s mussed hair and his flushed cheeks. Green eyes darkened by desire. The glint of slick caught in his beard. Mouth reddened and plump. 

He dares not blink. Dares not make a sound. Dares not melt into Potter’s touch the way he so longs to. Severus, too, is controlled. 

🍀 March

Caged - (Snarry, T, 100.) His arms are a cage.

Snape is unforgiving, even in love. His arms are a cage; the only real home Harry has known.

🐣 April

Fool - (Snarry, G, 100.) Tumblr prompt. Prompt: Snarry + "things you said when you thought i was asleep"

"You're a fool," Severus says. The tone is not so harsh or mocking as it might be by day. It is tender, and sad. Another I love you, unspoken.

Yes - (Snarry, T, 100.) Tumblr prompt. Prompt: things you said when we were the happiest we ever were + snarry

"I want that," Harry continues. "I want to be yours." He steps nearer. Severus' heart leaps. "And I want you to be mine."

Black Skies - (Regulus/Severus, Regulus/Sirius, E, 7k.) Written for Blackcest Fest. Sirius won't give Regulus the love he needs, so he seeks it from Severus instead.

Madness runs in the family, it is said. It has always been in Sirius. Flickers of it in his endless enthusiasm. Sparks of it in his eyes, however easy and cool his smile. The edge of madness in his casual cruelty. 

All of his Gryffindor brashness…it is the Black madness at its most evident. The most colorful, wild side to their innate offness. 

Sirius is one of them, however well he hides it, and Regulus cannot help but laugh, though he doesn’t think it very funny. Not funny, but thrilling. 

While Severus’ passion awakened Regulus, Sirius’ madness calls to him, deep and primal. It’s not a good feeling, really, but a familiar one, and Regulus cannot help but reach out for more.

🌼 May

Orange Blossoms - (Snarry, T, 3k.) Written HP Flowers - Spring Round. Also my gift to myself for my birthday. These are foolish times to have hope, and more foolish still to be in love. 

The boy left with less fuss than Severus expected, only to make his move once the sun's disapproving eye set. It is by the moon's mercy Harry leaves love letters in secret languages. Apple blossom and pansy. Fern and foxglove. Myrtle and dahlia. 

Severus brews potions in the evenings, nutritional blends to sustain the flowers that now overrun every available surface of his quarters.

Harry never need know the mark he’s made, the beauty and vibrancy with which he’s colored Severus’ life. He’ll never be allowed one foot inside of Severus’ quarters, and Severus will never reveal his heart. 

Contempt - (Snarry, E, 20k.) Written for Snarry-a-Thon. Also the best thing I've ever written ever. Harry hates Snape, and he always will. (He will, won’t he?)

Harry doesn't remember much from Defense. Not history or theory or even incantations. Instead he remembers the sweep of Snape's robes and the click of his boots. He remembers the position of Snape's fingers around his wand. The precise motion of his wrist. The shape of his lips around every spell. 

He remembers and he hates.

(And wants and hates and wants and hates and wants.)

🥀 September

In My Veins (In My Blood) - (Snarry, Harry/Death Eaters, E, 7k.) Originally meant to be for a fest. Ended up posting on my own when I realized the story I needed to tell wouldn't fit the fest requirements. DEAD DOVE. Voldemort wins the war and rewards the Death Eaters with a prize: Harry Potter. What he doesn't know is that Harry already belongs to one of them.

Fierce green eyes meet gleaming red. Severus dares not breathe. The Dark Lord might do anything; might slip inside his mind and dig up every last secret. He might rip Harry’s mind apart. He’ll turn his wand on Severus then. The light will hardly have gone out of Harry’s eyes by the time Severus joins him in death. 

That would be a mercy, really; a blessing. 

Instead, Harry and the Dark Lord grin at one another, equally unamused. 

Safe - (Snarry, E, 6k.) Updated with chapter 2/final chapter. Dead dove. Harry is sure of a lot of things, until he isn't.

“I’m fine,” Harry says yet again, but he smiles all the same. Turns his head for a kiss that Severus instantly grants. Soft. Tender. Loving. Harry feels like he should be annoyed, but isn’t. 

Maybe he does need soft sometimes. And maybe it’s okay to let Severus take care of him. Maybe it’s okay to not be okay. To need this. Severus is happy enough to provide it. And Harry loves his care as much as he loves his cruelty. 

Free Falling - (Ginmione, T, 200.) Tumblr prompt. Hermione faces her fear of flying to spend time with Ginny.

They’re falling, falling – she’s falling – 

Ginny catches them, pulling out of the dive before they crash into the earth. Hermione burrows her face into Ginny’s neck and huffs out a hysterical giggle. 

🕸️ October

Red All Over - (Gwenevera, E, 1k.) Written for Kinktober. It’s that time of the month. You know. The time for sex. OR: Gwenog & Ginny celebrate the Harpies' latest win the best way they know how.

She is flayed open. Freer than she’s ever been. The world is sharp and bright. All of the secrets of her soul exposed, cradled safely between their bodies. 

Eventually, Gwen suggests a shower, and Ginny huddles closer in response. She isn’t ready to face reality just yet. Isn’t ready to break this fragile perfection. It takes quiet praise and playful teasing to coax her down to earth. But it is Gwen’s deft fingers dancing down her ribs that finishes the job. Ginny yelps and jerks up to slap Gwen’s arm. Gwen only laughs and tugs Ginny back down.

Blue Velvet - (Snarry, Snarryus, 3k.) Written for Kinktober. Snarryus is Harry/Scorpius/Severus btw. Please forgive my undying love for portmanteaus. Scorpius wants Harry. Harry wants Scorpius. All Severus wants is for Harry to be happy (damn him.)

They are priceless luxury. Their radiance calls to Severus’ greed. The heat of his arousal does not touch the cold within. Severus touches himself, and hates himself. 

Stop. Don’t. He should have put an end to this farce before it began. Harry is his, body and soul; it matters not how lovely and lovable his toy is.

Of course Harry wants him. Look at him. One taste will not be enough. But this is as much punishment as gift. Let Harry have his desires, and ruin all they’ve built. Let the blond slut wreck their lives. This is the price of Harry’s covetousness; the price of Severus’ possession. 

Chain Reaction of Countermoves - (Snarry, E, 2k.) Written for Kinktober. Sequel to last year's Kinktober fic Clandestine Meetings & Stolen Stares. Harry’s had enough detentions with Headmaster Snape, hasn’t he? Now he has to meet him after graduation, too? Or: Graduation doesn’t come soon enough, but come it does.

 “You didn’t bring me here for a drink,” Harry tells him, and snatches the bottle as Severus reaches for it. 

“I didn’t bring you here at all,” Severus mutters darkly. 

Harry snorts. A case of semantics won’t distract Harry, not now. Too far he’s come, too long he’s waited. The words that have clogged his throat all year burst forth — for a moment his mouth is overfull, and clumsy, so accustomed to holding back, and so afraid to confess — but the dam finally breaks, and he says, “You know I love you, don’t you?” 

[altocat]

SEPHIROTH WEEK 2022 DAY 2

Prompt: Friendship

Summary: In days of stress and strain, of companions long departed, Sephiroth finds that simple things are worth preserving. And simple friends, perhaps, even more so.

He can feel the yawn coming involuntarily, the blistering tearing behind the lids of his eyes, damp pockets of moisture that slide down his cheeks, a heavy rattle in his throat. His lips feel dry in the stillness, a scratchy dizziness that teases down his forehead and fingers. 

Gods. Twenty-two hours is a long time to go without sleep.

He reaches up to rub the strain away, feeling the gray bruising beneath the sockets, baggy and weary and worn. A rankled wildness in his bangs, flaring down the long stretch of his great silver mane. Clothes disheveled. The lights too bright.

And the photograph on his desk, a grim accusation waiting behind the glass, three sets of smiles in the hot daze of the Wutai summer, dark and pale and auburn, freckled and tanned. So, so very young. So, so very loved. And gone.

“Yo!”

His head jerks up on reflex, an involuntary prickle of irritation that he quickly swipes aside in recognition. Zack’s grin is soft and earnest, the black sweep of his spiky hair bobbing with each confident stride, blue Mako eyes that brighten with earnest affection and interest. 

“Ah. Hello.”

“You’re up late. Reports again?”

“Yes.” Sephiroth motions to the stack against the table, his long fingers slightly stained with ink, tapping dutifully at the pile with a grunt of resignation. “Our numbers may be down, but that doesn’t change the fact that we still need to keep up to date with our information. The Thirds are as sloppy as ever. They need to start shaping up if we’re ever going to hope to make an impression in this year’s war games.”

“The war’s over,” A shrug of slackened shoulders. “I just figured we’d hold off on that stuff until the Genesis clones have been taken care of.”

“Mm. Wishful thinking.” Sephiroth leans back in his seat, a gusty sigh that ruffles the papers. “I’m starting to think this may stretch out far longer than I’d initially anticipated. And with Project G...”

“Right...y-yeah...” Zack pauses, rubbing the back of his head. “I’d almost forgotten. Heard you were in the Data Room again. Find anything?”

“Regretfully, no. Not yet, at least.”

“Don’t wear yourself out. You’re already looking pretty out of it. When’s the last time you slept? Or eaten anything?”

Sephiroth scowls, setting his pen down and watching it roll against the table. He can see all the cracks that trail across the wooden veneer, the dull sheen of the office light reflecting against the surface. “I am perfectly capable of tending to my own needs when I wish.”

Zack huffs, rolling up a chair, squeaking into it like a child seeking attention, his cheeks puffed and pouting. “That’s something else I’m learning about you.”

“Oh?”

“The great Sephiroth’s a stubborn pain in the ass.”

“Do tell.”

“Want me to list?”

“By all means.”

Gloved fingers in his face, waggling, teasing and yet simultaneously stern. “Doesn’t sleep. Doesn’t eat. Doesn’t lay ANYTHING on me that isn’t cryptic. Works ninety-MILLION hours a week. Doesn’t answer his cell. Smells like a friggin’ rose gard--”

“And that’s quite enough,” Sephiroth primly cuts in, a dry chuckle despite himself. “I feel thoroughly chastised."

“Heh,” Zack rubs his nose, squeaking in the seat again and glancing across the desk. He spots the picture in the corner, a slow, blue blink, lips shifting as he leans for a closer look. “Whoa. How come I never noticed this before? How long ago was this? Wutai, right? The three of you were so...small.”

Sephiroth raises a thin silver brow, a snort escaping him. “You were rather small yourself when you first entered as a Third-Class.”

“You’re practically kids.”

“In a way. But not completely. We were very hardened. We’d seen combat much earlier than most, I suppose.”

"Still look like kids to me. It’s crazy.”

“Not in retrospect.”

The young First takes the picture into his hands, caressing the smooth glass casing with reverence, mindful of Sephiroth’s tense and tired eyes, the low hum of the office lights buzzing above them. Sephiroth only watches, a pale cipher in the silence, pupils contracting with an almost predatory focus, shifting between Zack’s fingers and the small square frame. 

“...I’m sorry.”

“Hm?”

“I know you miss them. It's been a while. I know the feeling.”

“What I feel is irrelevant,” Sephiroth coolly replies, gently taking the picture away and setting it at a respectful distance near one of the stacks. “The situation at hand requires diligence. We cannot allow ourselves to become too entrenched in our emotions. It will only cause trouble.”

“It’s okay to still care about them. I mean, that’s why you keep refusing missions. And...sending me in.” A note of bitterness. But not a lingering one. “It’s okay to miss them. I miss them too. Well, Angeal at least.”

“...It...is quieter now,” Sephiroth admits, a steady exhale through his nose. “We can only go about this day by day. I will do what I can to resolve the matter once I think of an adequate solution.”

"Any luck so far?"

"...No. But we shall manage in the meantime. I will continue to operate at my best to ensure that there's less setbacks in the future."

“Yeah. I guess.” A pause. “...But I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon with the way you are right now though. Seriously. You're a mess. Go hit the hay.”

A frown, a sluggish blink. “We are in a city. This is a purely urban climate. Where in Midgar would you ever find ‘hay’?”

"...What."

"What good would 'hitting' it do anyway? I fail to see what that has to do with my condition."

“It’s...oh sweet Shiva, it’s an expression,” Zack’s laugh bubbles unexpectedly, a rising, uncontrollable giggle between gloved fingers. “It’s not LITERAL.”

"It..."

The younger soldier laughs again. Louder now. Tumbling out. A musical pull, coughed and cackled.

“...I knew that.”

And louder.

“I’m not an imbecile.”

Louder still.

“I understand figures of speech. I’m not inept.”

“I’m losing it.” A clutch against quivering sides, breath wheezing, eyes moist. “I’m gonna throw up.”

“Not on the reports,” Sephiroth hisses, which only seems to redouble Zack’s hilarity, a spitting, snickering gale as he leans against one broad, plated shoulder. “Hey!”

"You're amazing."

"You're ridiculous."

"Yeah," A flash of white teeth, chin proud and raised, glowing, matter of fact. "I know. And I think I'm growing on you."

Silence again, thin chuckles slowly receding. The older soldier stares, rapt. Incredulous. The static call of a monitor somewhere farther across the office. A scrabble of breath, of feeling. A reluctant, cloying need.

And then, at last, against his wishes, Sephiroth smiles.

[ninja-muse]

I posted 3,047 times in 2022

That's 22 more posts than 2021!

132 posts created (4%)

2,915 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@a-ramblinrose

@therefugeofbooks

@leer-reading-lire

@mostlyghostie

@stefito0o

I tagged 3,045 of my posts in 2022

#who queue? - 2,870 posts

#book covers - 915 posts

#stacks of books - 652 posts

#bookshelves - 601 posts

#cover art - 432 posts

#spines - 386 posts

#open books - 333 posts

#book recommendations - 295 posts

#mugs - 209 posts

#bookstores - 203 posts

Longest Tag: 112 characters

#lords noodle and doodle came back and there was the most spectacular collective accident scene i've read in ages

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

2022 Release TBR

Where the Drowned Girls Go - Seanan McGuire (contemporary fantasy) - January 4

Heartstopper, Volume Four - Alice Oseman (YA romance) - January 4 🏳️‍🌈

Battle of the Linguist Mages -  Scotto Moore (contemporary fantasy) - January 11 friend says it’s probably not my thing

Anatomy - Dana Schwartz (YA historical fantasy) - January 18

The Servant Mage - Kate Elliott (fantasy) - January 18 🏳️‍🌈

Love and Other Disasters - Anita Kelly (romance) - January 18 🏳️‍🌈

Some by Virtue Fall - Alexandra Rowland (fantasy) - January 25 🏳️‍🌈

Hot and Sour Suspects - Vivien Chien (cozy mystery) - January 25 BIPOC

The Christie Affair - Nina de Gramont (historical fiction) - February 1

Bluebird - Ciel Pierlot (science fiction) - February 8 🏳️‍🌈

Dead Silence - S.A. Barnes (science fiction/horror) - February 8

Age of Ash - Daniel Abraham (fantasy) - February 15

Carolina Built - Kianna Alexander (historical fiction) - February 22 BIPOC

Gallant - V.E. Schwab (YA fantasy) - March 1

The River of Silver - S.A. Chakraborty (historical fantasy) - March 1 BIPOC

Spelunking Through Hell - Seanan McGuire (contemporary fantasy) - March 1

Umboi Island - J.J. Dupuis (mystery) - March 8 🇨🇦

Memory's Legion - James S.A. Corey (science fiction) - March 15 I’m three books behind on the series, no way am I getting to this this year

When We Were Birds - Ayanna Llord Banwo (fabulism) - March 15 BIPOC

The Cartographers - Peng Shepherd (mystery) - March 15

How to Take Over the World - Ryan North (science/humour) March 15 🇨🇦

Comeuppance Served Cold - Marion Deeds (historical fantasy) - March 22

The Diamond Eye - Kate Quinn (historical fiction) - March 29

The Wolf Den - Elodie Harper (historical fiction) - March 29

Conversations with People Who Hate Me - Dylan Marron (memoir) - March 29

Portrait of a Thief - Grace C. Li (thriller) - April 5 BIPOC

Shadows of Berlin - David R. Gillham (historical fiction) - April 5

Amongst Our Weapons - Ben Aaronovitch (urban fantasy) - April 12 BIPOC

Persians - Lloyd Llewellyn-Jones (history) - April 12

See the full post

97 notes - Posted January 1, 2022

#4

A couple weeks ago I was blessed with a reading copy of A Strange and Stubborn Endurance by Foz Meadows, and let me tell you, it should be on every fantasy lover’s TBR for this summer. This is a story about kind, sensible, competent people dealing with assassins and intrigues, about finding love in unexpected places, about healing and unlearning unconscious biases. The writing and the setting are both lush and to be sunk into. It’s a beautiful queer love story, full of gentleness, wonderfully escapist in general, and gave me serious Marvellous Light vibes the whole way through. It’s not without darkness—there’s a very notable rape early on, for instance—but gosh, I need people to read this just so I can squee about it with them.

Out July 26, 2022.

108 notes - Posted May 16, 2022

#3

My dad unhauled a bunch of books before Christmas and let me have my pick of them. A pic of the full stack will be coming, probably in my February wrap-up, but I just had to share this one! Don’t have a date for it, but it was awarded to a technical school student in 1910.

116 notes - Posted February 25, 2022

#2

The Wolf Den by Elodie Harper is a refreshing take on historical fiction. Not only is it set in Roman Pompeii rather than northwestern Europe in the 19th or 20th centuries, but it’s centered on enslaved sex workers and told in modern language. (No thou’s or attempts to mimic Latin here!) The author has done a great job of bringing the ancient world to life and making it feel nearer than it is.

The book focuses on Amara, born into a middle-class Greek family and sold into slavery after family tragedy. As she does her best to better her circumstances at any cost, we get not only a portrait of a living Roman city with its pubs, parties, clothing stores, food stalls, and everyday injustices, but also a wonderful sense of the friendships and competition within the brothel she works in. I loved seeing how the women there formed a community among themselves, and how they fit into the wider society (or didn’t). I got the real sense that Harper had not only delved deep into how Roman society would’ve worked at the street level, but had done her diligence regarding the lives of (modern) sex workers too.

I also thought that Harper did a good job portraying the characters as complex, fallible, and human. She gives her female characters, especially Amara, the full range of emotions and all are believably imperfect. The worst of the men get sympathetic moments and the best of them, damning ones. They all feel of their time too—relatable or familiar, but also holding attitudes and beliefs that remind you this isn’t a modern story. (For instance, it’s clear that Amara knows slavery sucks for all enslaved people, but she never quite questions why slavery is even a thing.)

All in all, reading this felt like reading about real people leading real lives much more often than it felt like reading a novel. It’s a slowish read that feels at times like it’s digressing or offering up set pieces of Pompeiian life, but those moments all get woven back in neatly by the end. (It’s also slowish because of emotional drain. I couldn’t binge-read because bad things kept happening.) I found the ethical dilemmas compelling, though—if you’d damned no matter what, what’s the right option?—and enjoyed both how Harper told this story and woven in her themes and critiques. It’s definitely been one of the highlights of my reading month and I hope it gets a lot of attention once it’s out.

Note: while this book is definitely pro-sex work and has a lot of sympathy for those who find themselves forced into that life or exploited, it’s still set within an incredibly misogynistic society that saw no problem with degrading or harming women. If harassment, issues with consent or boundaries, or sexual violence are things you don’t want to read about, this might not be the book for you. They’re rarely graphic, but definitely prevalent.

122 notes - Posted February 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Hello! I saw your 2022 Release TBR come across my dash, and I don't know if the Pride flags are to denote that the author or that the book itself is queer, but in either case, Seanan McGuire can absolutely have a flag :-)

Thanks! The flags are to denote queer characters here, not queer authors (for brevity and minimal confusion). I'm trying to be responsible and not put flags on books I'm not 100% sure of. For instance, I know Where the Drowned Girls Go is Cora's book, but I don't remember if Cora is canonically queer? Same goes for the characters in Seasonal Fears and for Alice in Spelunking Through Hell. If they're confirmed, I'll be adding that flag during my wrap-up, for sure.

129 notes - Posted January 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

Tagged by @aliteraryprincess and @franticvampirereads, thank you!

Tagging @lizziethereader @thelivebookproject @rae-reads @thesheepthewolf @doughtah @howlsmovinglibrary

[lamaisongaga]

LADY GAGA x COTTON ON x BTW FOUNDATION

Cat's out of the bag! Australian retail store Cotton On has just revealed its collection in support of Lady Gaga's Born This Way Foundation. 100% net of the proceeds from Cotton On Foundation products and donations will support Gaga's foundation in sharing mental health resources!

The campaign was styled by Nicola Formichetti with assistance by Hunter Clem and Erica Garcia-Valle.

Gaga wore pieces from her own unisex collaboration which she, of course, got heavily customized with safety pins and studs by costume designers Orchid Satellite, Elias Martian and Sailor D. Gonzales to make them her own and to inspire you!

She opted for the oversized denim trucker jacket with 3D embroidery that says "We can build a kinder, braver world together" ($130), a pair of wide-leg relaxed jeans in "Bottle Blue" ($69.99), the graphic tee with globe ($25) and the embroidered cap in white ($25).

Shop:

Cotton On x BTW Foundation Denim Jacket ($130.00)

Cotton On Wide-Leg Jeans ($69.99)

Cotton On x BTW Foundation T-Shirt ($25.00)

Cotton On x BTW Foundation Cap ($25.00)

I'm so happy to introduce not one but three new, small jewelry labels to you today!

For the earrings, we got the Into My Trap silver orbital earrings from the Fall/Winter 2022 collection of Chinese label Lost in Echo.

We also got two layered necklaces on LG. The first one is this chunky stainless steel link necklace with nut bolts by concept brand Apt.1007.

The slimmer necklace is the Frou York I'm a Star rhodium-plated brass double layer chain necklace with safety pin, stars and spikes which you can pre-order for only $52!

Shop:

Frou York "I'm a Star" Necklace ($52.00)

LG was stacked with a total of 5 rings by various smaller labels!

She rocked the micro spike ring ($80), micro spike single band ring ($70) and safety pin ring ($90) all by Rare Romance, the tiny heart band ring by Rat Betty ($59), and the bleeding heart ring by Frou York ($46).

Shop:

Rare Romance Micro Spike Ring ($80.00)

Rare Romance Micro Spike Single Band Ring ($70.00)

Rare Romance Safety Pin Ring ($90.00)

Rat Betty Tiny Heart Ring ($59.00)

Frou York Bleeding Heart Ring ($46.00)

The look was completed with her beloved custom Giuseppe Zanotti silver metallic leather square-toe platform lace-up ankle boots.

[harlcwes]

✰  |  HARLOWE  BRENNER  ––  LOOKBOOK

 spotted  at  bar  sixtyfive  with  a  drink  in  hand  !  harlowe  brenner  turns  heads  in  a  sleek  double-breasted  suit  by  sportmax  ,  pairing  it  with  some  slingback  heels  by  saint  laurent  .  brenner  makes  this  look  uniquely  theirs  by  swapping  out  the  plum  colored  top  seen  at  the  autumn/winter  2022  show  with  a  berry  colored  one  ,  adding  a  leaf-motif  brooch  and  knuckle  duster  rings  courtesy  of  bulgari  .  other  accessories  include  a  leather  tie  ,  smoky  eye  and  silver  earring  stack  that  compliments  their  jewelry    //    @nepofminspo​​

[nuagederose]

kinktober 2022 // day sixteen: tiny bubbles prompt: bathtub sex (courtesy of @the-purity-pen) pairing: alex/francine (flowers for alexander) also on ao3 💋

It had been a particularly long tour by the time Alex had stepped back into his apartment, and quite the daring one, to boot, what with the introduction of the airships for their stage performances. But it had been a rather long tour, nevertheless: between the fact that they had left in April, and there it was, the middle of October. Plus, he had another round in the recording studio with Testament come the days following Halloween: barely a two-week vacation for himself as well as Chuck, Eric, Greg, and Louie.

He hung up his coat on the hook next to the front door and then ran his fingers through his long black curls: the little plume of silver at the top of his head appeared out of the corner of his eye in the form of a wisp. He tousled his hair a bit and he couldn’t hardly shake that gritty feeling from himself.

Being on tour for so long and only finding showers whenever he could rather than he so wished. Add to this, there was the whole tidbit about performing around hot metal in junction with superheated water in the meantime as well. It all coalesced and formed into a feeling that he couldn’t exactly shake off in those final dates of the tour.

Alex didn’t hesitate to take off his jeans right there in the front part of the apartment: he swiped the cordless phone from the kitchen in the instance of someone calling him in the meantime, and he ambled across the carpet to the hallway. He stepped into that large, spacious bathroom and already began to feel completely at ease. The white tile that made up the floor felt like cold stones on the very bottoms of his feet; the white and gray marble on the countertop next to him shimmered and twinkled under the soft light that filtered through the window over the bathtub before him. He peeled off his shirt and lay it on the counter next to him and the edge of the sink. He stood right next to the toilet for a second with his eye on the big silvery shower head on the wall over his head.

A shower wouldn’t suffice. Too quick, especially for his tense muscles in his back and in his legs. He glanced down at the big bathtub before him, the big pearly white tub that provided enough for him to lay down flat on his back.

That would do the trick. He took the bath mat off of the rim of the tub and lay it on the tiles right next to the tub, and then he reached over to the dials on the wall and switched on the water. A bit too cold at first and then he turned the hot dial a bit. He then reached behind him to the cabinets under the sink for the bottle of bubble bath: what was a boy who wanted to relax without soft-smelling tiny bubbles. Down on one knee, he unscrewed the lid from the top and poured in a slender little trickle of that deep blue liquid in: he watched it bleed through the water for a moment, and then he reached down and stirred the water with a shake of his hand so the bubbles would flurry up and collect throughout the water. He put the bubble bath back into the cabinet and he watched the bubbles form and pile upon themselves.

Every so often, he reached down for a stir of the water with his hands so those little stacks of tiny bubbles collected and formed upon themselves even more.

Once the water reached a certain level on the bathtub, he switched off the water, and then he peeled his underwear off and he let it fall onto the bath mat, around his feet. He ran his hand down his stomach before he stuck one foot into the water: nice and warm, almost perfect. It was a bit colder than he usually liked, but the tub had enough water in it already; he set the other foot into the water next, and then he took his seat on the floor of the tub. He leaned back against the wall opposite to the faucet and stretched out his long, lanky legs to where his feet reached the faucet. Though he remained close to the wall on the left, there was plenty of room in that tub for two people.

He could call up Eric at a moment’s notice and invite him to join him there if he so wished. Indeed, he reached up for the cordless on the shelf next to him with his dry left hand and he brought up his right hand for the dialing. It rang once, twice, three times: no answer. He sighed through his nose as he hung up and then tried a second time.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Alex,” he said, and his voice rang throughout the bathroom before him.

“Hey, what’s happening?”

“I’m in the tub right now. You wanna join?”

“Do I wanna join?” Eric chuckled at that, but Alex was sincere.

“Yeah, you wanna take a little bubble bath with me?”

“I’m kinda clear on the other side of town right now, Alex,” he told him.

“Aw, man, but the water’s warm. I've got bubbles and I’m thinking of lighting a couple of candles, too—” Alex was cut off by a knock on the bathroom door.

“That sounds so lovely, Alex, but I can’t, though,” Eric insisted. “Maybe tomorrow if you’re willing?”

“I am willing, yes,” Alex replied. “I gotta go—talk to you soon.” He hung up and set the phone down on the shelf next to his head. “Who is it?”

Francine poked her head into the bathroom right then.

“Francine!” Alex hunched his shoulders and sank down into the foamy bubbles as if he had a full chest of breasts. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw your door was open and I wanted to use your bathroom,” she replied, nonplussed. “Avert your eyes, too—I think I just finished my period so I have to take off this pad.”

“Oh. Uh. Well, um—is there any way that you can do that in the place next door?”

She rolled her eyes at that. “Oh, c’mon, Alex, it’s not like you have boobs like me.”

“Sure. But—this is my bathroom and I still want a bit of privacy, though.”

She chuckled at that. “What?” he demanded.

“Nothing. It's just the thought of you wanting privacy like you’re a chick.”

“Oh, c’mon, boys want privacy, too, you know,” he pointed out.

“Oh, please. The way that you guys walk around with your cocks hanging out and whatnot? Privacy? Come on...” She burst into a fit of laughter as she peeled down her pants and took her seat on the toilet. Alex grimaced at the sight of her sitting there and she gazed on at him as if there was nothing wrong.

“I don’t walk around with my cock hanging out all the time,” he retorted back to her.

“Yeah, you don’t, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t have one,” she hit back at him; she reached down into her panties as they remained right in between her legs, and she peeled up the reusable pad and set it upon the countertop next to her. Alex squirmed in his spot in the bathtub and indeed, he glanced down at the space between his legs, to his own dick as it resided down there in the warm soapy water. He liked things to be clean and without an iota of blood to be found anywhere.

Francine must have seen the look on his face because she flashed him a glare as she fetched a few squares of toilet paper from the rung next to her to help clean up the little bit of blood on the inside of her panties.

“What? It’s just blood, you know,” she scoffed as she wiped up.

“Yeah, of course,” he told her as he never moved his gaze from the side of her thigh.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she teased him: she stood up and pulled her panties followed by her pants up her legs. She froze right in her tracks and she took a glimpse down at her body.

“What’s the matter?” he asked her. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just...” She nibbled on her bottom lip as she looked on at him once more. “You know, I would really love a bath for myself, too,” she told him. He swallowed as he brought his gaze up to her. “Even though I'm at the end of it, I would love a bath given I’ve been crampy all day long today and the last few days, actually. That water looks so warm, and it’s been a hot minute since I took a bubble bath, too, like an actual bubble bath. I also want to clean up most of the residual—you know, feeling—from in between my legs and on my crotch, too.” She swallowed and bowed her head a bit. “Do you boys know the concept of—freshness?”

He paused. “Like fruit?”

“It’s sort of like that. When I get to the end of my period, I have some residual blood left over and I want to clean it up as best as I can otherwise I—don't feel right. I feel kind of gross, actually.”

He raised his eyebrows at that.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I'm sure you guys have something akin to that,” she noted.

“Oh, yeah, I got crotch rot often this past tour,” he said with a straight face. “Between just sweating and being around a bunch of steam all the while. And I know Lou did, too—with his sitting behind the kit and everything.” He shifted his weight again in the tub and he pulled his knees up. “It’s a pretty big tub.”

“True.”

Alex nibbled on his bottom lip. “Well, why don’t you take off your clothes and grab a towel out of the closet and I’ll make room for you down in here,” he suggested to her.

“You’d do that for me?” she said, touched.

“Yeah. You know, as different as our organs are, we suffer from similar things when things get bloody and covered in shit and sweat.”

She showed him a little smile and then she doubled back out of the bathroom to fetch a towel out of the closet. Though Alex had no desire for a relationship at the moment, there was something about Francine. She had a rather prominent edge to her that he had wanted with Florence when the two of them were together: though Florence was unafraid to get her hands dirty while working as a mechanic and around heavy machinery, there was something to her that turned him off a great deal.

She returned to the bathroom with a towel slung over her forearm like the towels on the rung over his head. She set the towel down on the counter next to his shirt and then she proceeded to take her clothes off right in front of him. Alex swallowed as he watched her take off her shirt, all to expose her breasts and her little black brassiere to him. She took off her jeans and then, she took of her underwear as well as her bra.

He was beheld with a naked Francine, with her smooth olive-toned skin and her dark nipples, such that he had forgotten what he was going to do right then. The fact that she had finished bleeding through her vagina and sat on the toilet had completely left his mind at that point.

But then he remembered when she spoke again.

“What’s the matter? You afraid I might get some of my cooties on you?”

He fluttered his eyelids at her and then he scooted across the floor of the tub to the right wall and a big stack of bubbles up against the porcelain. “No... I’m just making room for you.” He lifted a hand for her. “Have a seat.”

Francine lifted her right foot and stepped into the tub.

“Oh, my,” she gasped.

“It’s a little colder than I like,” he confessed with a shrug.

“No, Alex, it’s perfect,” she assured him as she stepped her left foot into the floor of the tub: careful not to slip, she eased her way down into the left side next to him there. Her breasts floated up with the water and the bubbles: he swallowed at the sight of her body right there next to him, such that she turned her attention back to him.

“You look like something’s troubling you,” she told him. “Do you not trust me or something? Is that why you were so reticent of me coming here?”

“No, no, no. I mean, if you had to go, go right ahead. But it’s not so much that I'm worried about you—it's that I don’t trust myself.”

“Why is that?”

Once the words left his lips, he realized what a huge mistake he had made right then. He closed his eyes. Her body right there next to him, after all this time of being only within mere proximity of her.

“Alex... what are you saying?”

She had just finished her period and thus, he knew that there was no risk there.

“Come on closer to me and I’ll tell you,” he told her in a low voice: one that was rather quiet and soft, a tone that he hadn’t really used on Francine before. “Really. Come on closer to me.” The softness gave way to a husky, silky tone that reminded them both of a whisper, as if they were lying in bed rather than sharing a tub together.

Francine nibbled on her bottom lip and slid closer to him, to where her hip brushed up against his hip. Though she had finished that month’s blood, not a single drop of it had made its way into the bubbles or the warm water before him.

“Okay... so, now, what are you saying?” she asked him. He brought his lips down to her own for a taste. She gasped at the feeling of that silken cherry skin on her own, but she never left the tub. She lay there naked right next to him and then he brought his lips back to hers once more, and that time for a longer moment. The bubbles swirled around them like a mother cradling her two children in her arms.

Francine reached over to his side to pull him closer to her. Her bare breasts brushed up against his chest: his body was soft and the water cradled them both all the while. His right hand slid up into the roots of her hair at the back of her head: he moved his left hand to right underneath her side. His body leaned up against hers so his length brushed up against her thigh.

“Oh, my god—are we having sex in the bathtub?” she whispered into his ear. He never replied as he moved his right hand down the curvature of her back, all the way down to her hips and her ass. His fingers flexed on the left side of her ass, which in turn made her gasp.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t ya?” he whispered to her.

“Try in between the legs, big boy—” she challenged him. With a swallow and another brush on her lips, Alex moved his hand to right between her thighs, to those smooth lips that were just fresh with blood not even mere hours before then.

“By the way,” she started again in between swipes of their lips. “You never answered my question. What were you saying before?”

He slipped his fingers in between those lips, to right inside of her vagina for a touch of that one ribbed spot on the inside there. The ebb and flow of the warm water around them made everything feel better for the both of them, especially when he gave her that little touch of his fingertip on her. Alex slipped his fingers away from her only for his dick to take their place: she had stopped the bleeding and the water acted as his protective barrier. Francine gasped again and she treated him to a soft little moan as a result.

“That,” he whispered right into her ear.

“Oh, my word. You bad boy.”

She reached down for his dick and held onto him with only one hand.

“Something for the swamp monster,” she breathed into his face.

“Roar,” he said. The warm water and the bubbles lined the small space between her hand and the shaft of his dick to where it almost tickled him. It almost tickled him so much that he came right then: she lifted the head above the water so none of it would accidentally slip into their nice bath together.

“Nice pearls, Mr. Skolnick,” she said again.

“I try my best,” he confessed to her with a shrug. “I don’t have the best oysters in the world but it’s what I’ve got. I don’t really want to make a mess in the tub, either.” He lifted his hand out of the water and he was surprised that there was no blood on his fingertips.

“You know, I could use a little washing of my back,” she told him.

“Me, too,” he added as he took the washcloth off of the rung right over his head. “You wash my back and I wash yours.”

“How ‘bout you wash my back so you don’t break yours,” she corrected him.

“Sounds good.”

She reached for the washcloth on the rung and dipped it into the warm water: he watched the suds pile up onto her fingers, and he leaned forward for her, complete with his hands down in between his thighs. He closed his eyes as she ran the cloth over his back.

“So good,” he breathed out.

“There is something so—intimate about this,” she remarked. “A moment together and then a little washing of each other.”

“Florence and Eric don’t know,” he blurted out. He opened his eyes and flashed her a knowing glimpse.

“They do not,” she assured him. “If they ask us why we smell so good, it’s because we wanted to go for a swim.”

“Go for a little swim…” His voice trailed off. “Separate, I would assume.”

“Well, yeah. After all, San Francisco is a big city.”

“Indeed, it is.” He paused for a moment as she brought the washcloth down to his hips. “You know, as lovely as this, I’m starting to get kinda cold, you wanna rinse off and dry off and then get some coffee?”

“Oh, you know I’d love that…” Francine leaned into the side of his neck for a gentle kiss, which in turn brought a little smile out of him.

[bunnimew]

Fairy Sprinkles

Rating: G Fandom: Spider-man, Deadpool Relationship: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson Tags: Humor, Crack, fairy tale, Fairy Bread Summary: For Bromantic Fic-or-Treat 2022 Halloween Bingo: N4 Dark & Spooky Fairy Tale 

On AO3 here.

Peter swung them up onto a low rooftop, and froze.

He was expecting the usual bare concrete, assorted HVAC equipment, and creeping black mold of a typical member of the New York skyline. Instead, they were surrounded by tables and tables of… food.

It wasn’t just food. Each table had a long, thick tablecloth tossed over it, hiding the legs underneath. There were decorations encircling the dishes, leafy green garlands with colorful flowers snaking between bowls and plates, little tealight candles flickering in the high winds, giving the whole set up a strikingly out-of-place feeling in this concrete jungle. The sun was on its way down, bathing the food in warm, gold and red light, making it look impossibly inviting and drawing Peter in.

Which set him immediately on edge, no spidey-sense needed. 

“This is a trap.”

Wade slid down from Peter’s back and wandered closer to the tables. Peter, on instinct, grabbed his arm to hold him back. “What makes you say that? Doesn’t look that dangerous to me. Unless it’s poisoned. This would be a lot of work just to poison someone, though.”

Peter relaxed his fingers and let Wade inspect the tables. He was right, of course. Nothing about this looked like a threat. It just… didn’t feel right. Peter kept his distance, even as Wade poked and nudged at the plates, shifting things around on the nearest table. 

“Oh look!” Wade sounded excited and Peter felt a chill run down his spine. “Fairy bread!”

Peter didn’t know what that was, but if anything was going to be a trap, it would be something called fairy bread. “Don’t eat it!”

Wade spun around to look at Peter in full offense. “I wasn’t going to! It has those little silver balls on it. Those sprinkles would crack your teeth!”

That should not have been Wade’s motivation for not consuming suspiciously sourced food, but so long as it was working, Peter would take it. He watched as Wade picked up the plate of fairy bread and studied it from the side. The slices were artistically stacked, even. “This is definitely creepy.”

“Yeah,” Wade said, putting the fairy bread down. “Nothing is scarier than a trip to the dentist.”

“This doesn’t feel a little…” Peter struggled for the words as he looked over the tables, the candles, the out-of-place greenery on an otherwise concrete roof in New York. “Modern day fairy tale to you? Hansel and Gretel, anyone?”

Wade picked up the ladle out of a bowl of punch and poured the liquid back into the bowl. “It would, if we weren’t in New York. Lots of weird things happen in New York, Baby Boy.”

“Exactly!” Peter said, pointing at Wade in triumph. “Like modern day fairy tales and surprise witches who may or may not eat children! I regularly do battle with a man made of sand!”

Wade nodded sagely. “You’ve convinced me. Who do we need to fight?”

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but just then the roof access door began to open, slow on its hinges. A loud, high-pitch creak echoed into the night as it swung around.

“Nope!” Peter said instead. He was done. That was it. Whatever was behind that door, he didn’t want to know. “I’m out. Wade, hop on.”

“Yes, Sir!” It might not have bothered him the way it did Peter, but Wade didn’t let that slow him down. He gripped Peter’s shoulders and wrapped his legs firmly around Peter’s waist. “Koala mode engaged!”

They were already three buildings down before the first normal, common, every day New Yorker stepped through the door. “Congratulations on your promotion, Jennifer!”

Spider-man had escaped certain death. 

This time.

[emilepapania]

Unlocking Comfort: A Comprehensive Guide to Townhouses for Rent Nearby

Home is never an easy choice! Isn’t it? You think so many times even when you are not buying but renting! Home is the place, whether in a temporary or permanent arrangement, where you like to have your way of things with certain demands, little adjustments, and comfort! 

Did you know that tenants occupied roughly 44 million dwelling units in the United States in 2022? The residential Apartment Rental sector's total market value was $258.4 billion in 2022. Do you know that 36% of all American families now rent?

Are you looking for a rental area? Are you interested to know about the townhouses for rent nearby? We have a comprehensive guide to help you reach your destination! In this blog, we will help you learn about the workings and details which can help you in your search for townhouses for rent near me!

What is a Townhouse?

A built-in terrace house, also known as a townhome, a townhouse, or a townhome, is a type of stacked dwelling. A contemporary townhouse typically has a modest size on numerous stories. At first, the word referred to any form of city home (usually in London) for a person whose main or greatest property was a country estate.

Traditionally, a townhouse was the city dwelling of an aristocratic or affluent family who owned one or more rural properties in which they lived for the majority of the year. During the festive season (when important balls were held), landlords and their servants would relocate to a townhouse beginning in the 18th century.

Benefits Of Choosing A Townhouse

There can be variations in the types of choices any individual has! But there are so many things that come into consideration when searching for the right townhouse for rent near me. In the following, you will find the pointers you must keep in mind before renting townhouses near you!

Budget: A townhouse may be cheaper to purchase than a separate single-family home in the same region, even if they have comparable dimensions. So if you are starting your search for a townhouse for rent near me, cost is the most important aspect you need to check. If you agree to share walls with your neighbors, you may be able to gain more space for your money in this manner.

In addition, living in a townhouse eliminates the need to pay exorbitant taxes on property. Owners of townhomes pay lesser property taxes than those who live in traditional houses due to the reduced lot size. Owners' organization fees are considerably reduced in comparison to condos. A townhouse is equivalent to a single-detached dwelling. 

You have the option of financing the house or paying cash upfront. Furthermore, you still own the property on which the townhouse is built. 

Entry to numerous amenities: Townhouses, like apartments and condos, frequently include a variety of communal areas or facilities linked to a homeowners organization, which may include parks, pools, and public centers.

Ownership To Modify: Townhomes are a hybrid of condos and detached single-family homes with the ability to customize both inside and out. Owners have the right to alter whatever they wish in the interior or exterior of their homes if the HOA dictates otherwise.

Best For Seniors Citizens: Renting a townhouse is a terrific way to experience freedom without the added burden of extra upkeep if you are a retired or senior citizen. HOA communities foster a strong feeling of community, which is especially important in this day and age. The social gatherings are enjoyable as they offer a chance to meet new people. Thus, if you are searching for a townhouse for rent near me, you can also look for neighborhoods that are specially designed for elders, which can help you adapt in no time.

Conclusion

Evaluation is necessary when you buy or rent houses. It helps you make an informed decision that fits your lifestyle, budget, interests, and way of living.

If you are still in search of townhouses for rent near me, Silver Bear Funding understands your needs and offers you amazing deals on the properties which are hidden gems! Contact us today to get yourself a perfect townhouse for rent nearby now!

[frontproofmedia]

JOE CORDINA DEFENDS IBF CROWN AS MATCHROOM RETURN TO THE CASINO DE MONTE CARLO ON NOVEMBER 4

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Published: September 13, 2023

CORDINA DEFENDS IBF CROWN AS MATCHROOM RETURN TO THE CASINO DE MONTE CARLO ON NOVEMBER 4

Two thrilling World Title fights and two more championship bouts will light up Monte Carlo in a night of elite boxing on Saturday, November 4, live worldwide on DAZN (excluding - France and French Overseas Territories, Andorra and Monaco).   Welsh hero Joe Cordina will defend his IBF Super-Featherweight World Title against highly-rated American rival Edward Vazquez at the famous Casino de Monte Carlo.    Undefeated Cordina (16-0, 9 KOs) is widely regarded as one of the best British fighters today, a two-time champion of the world in just 16 fights, and returns to the ring following his breathtaking victory last April over Shavkatdzhon Rakhimov. And Cordina makes his way back to Monaco, where he overcame Mario Enrique Tinoco in November 2019.   The Tony Sims-trained champion, 31, will face a tough challenge in Vazquez (15-1, 3 KOs), who gets his first-ever World Title shot thanks to a four-fight winning streak. The 27-year-old Texan’s only career loss to date was a split decision defeat by Raymond Ford in May 2022.   Another all-action World Title fight is in store when South Africa’s Sive Nontshinga puts his IBF Light Flyweight championship on the line against Mexico’s Adrian Curiel Dominguez (22-4-1, 3 KOs).   The ‘Special One’ Nontshinga (12-0, 9 KOs) makes the second defense of his IBF crown, which he won in a fight of the year contender against Hector Flores Calixto in 2022, and this bout promises to be another enthralling 12-round fight.   The future of French boxing will be on display, too, as Souleymane Cissokho defends his WBC Silver Welterweight Title against Isaias Lucero.   The 2016 Olympic Bronze medallist is undefeated as a professional (16-0, 9 KOs), and will be looking to put on another strong showcase of his incredible talents on home soil when he collides with hard-hitting Mexican, Lucero (16-1, 10 KOs).    The inspirational Ramla Ali will seek redemption as she looks to avenge her only professional loss to date in a rematch with Julissa Guzman for the IBF Inter-Continental Super-Bantamweight Championship. Mexican Guzman (13-2-2, 7 KOs) sensationally stopped Ali (8-1-0, 2 KOs) in round eight when they met in New Orleans back in June.   Campaign activist Ali, who fled war-torn Somalia as a refugee at the age of 12 to move to the UK, was selected as one of Time Magazine’s Women of the Year for 2023 and is a global ambassador for UNICEF along with Cartier and Christian Dior. A win over rival Guzman will reignite her dream of becoming a future World Champion.   More unmissable bouts will be confirmed in due course, along with ticket details.  "I'm excited to be fighting at the Casino de Monte-Carlo for a second time as I put my iBF Super-Featherweight World Title on the line against Edward Vazquez," said Cordina. "I have happy memories of fighting in Monte Carlo, landing the WBA Continental Title in my first outing down at Super-Featherweight, and I'm looking to put on another explosive performance on November 4 as I continue to work towards unifying the division. Tune in live on DAZN."   "We're delighted to be returning to beautiful Monte Carlo for another stacked night of World Title action," said Matchroom Sport Chairman Eddie Hearn. "This will be our first fight night in Monte Carlo since 2019, and I'm thrilled to be returning with a huge World Title double-header featuring IBF Super-Featherweight World Champion Joe Cordina defending his crown against Edward Vazquez and IBF Light-Flyweight World Champion Sive Nontshinga putting his belt on the line against Adrian Curiel Dominguez. "The stunning Casino de Monte-Carlo is a special and unique setting within boxing and we have a thrilling night of championship action in store for fight fans around the world on DAZN. Ramla Ali looks exact revenge over Julissa Guzman and French star Souleyman Cissokho continues his climb up the Welterweight ladder as he faces Isaias Lucero, with more fights to be announced soon."

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[ad_1] If you wish to have an iPad, you have got 3 fundamental possible choices: the elemental 10.2-inch iPad, the dearer iPad Air, or the much more pricey iPad Pro. The usual 10.2-inch iPad is the funds possibility, with an getting older design (large bezels, house button, Lightning port) and older processor, and the 12.9-inch iPad Professional begins at a whopping $1,099 and is aimed at best essentially the most not easy of customers. So if you wish to have essentially the most pill with out breaking the financial institution on a $1,099 12.9-inch iPad Professional, you have got simply two choices: the $599 iPad Air and the $799 11-inch iPad Pro. The iPad Air was once simply upgraded with an M1 processor, making it as robust because the iPad Professional. However a pill is greater than its processor, and the Professional type does be offering a couple of enhancements that could be value your cash. Right here’s how those two capsules stack up. 11-inch iPad Professional vs iPad Air: Tech specifications Earlier than we begin the matchup, let’s have a weigh-in and spot how they fit up on paper. iPad Air (2022)11-inch iPad Professional (fifth gen)Beginning worth$599$799Display screen measurement10.9-inch11-inchSize (H x W x D)9.74 x 7.02 0.24 inches9.74 x 7.02 x 0.23 inchesWeight1.02 kilos1.03 kilosColoursArea grey, purple, red, starlight, blueSilver, house greyShowLiquid Retina,True ToneLiquid Retina,ProMotion, True ToneProcessorM1M1Garage64/256GB128/256/512GB/1TB/2TBReminiscence8GB8GB/16GB (1TB and 2TB)AuthenticationContact IDFace IDRear digital camera12MP f/1.8 Huge12MP f/1.8 Huge10MP f/2.4 Extremely HugeEntrance digital camera12MP f/2.2 Extremely Huge12MP f/2.4 Extremely HugeWi-fi options5G (sub-6 best), Wi-Fi 6, Bluetooth 5.05G (sub-6/mmWave), Wi-Fi 6, Bluetooth 5.011-inch iPad Professional vs iPad Air: Design and colour The iPad Air and 11-inch iPad Professional are necessarily the similar measurement and weight. If truth be told, the scale are so identical that they are able to each use many of the identical instances, covers, Magic Keyboards, and so forth. Most effective instances that experience particular digital camera cutouts for the one iPad Air digital camera received’t have compatibility at the iPad Professional, which has a squarish digital camera space with more than one cameras, however iPad Professional instances will have compatibility advantageous at the Air (they only glance slightly bizarre). With just about similar shapes, additionally they have just about similar designs with one major exception: colour. The iPad Professional is available in silver and house grey best, whilst the iPad Air has a extra whimsical array of colours to choose between: house gray, starlight, purple, red, and blue. You’re additionally getting ever-so-slightly smaller bezels at the iPad Professional, which is why Apple says it has room for an 11-inch show as a substitute of 10.9 inches. You’re now not in point of fact going to note that 10th of an inch, even though. Our pick out: With regards to measurement and weight, it is a whole tie. The designs are mainly similar as neatly. So it comes down to paint. If you wish to have starlight, blue, red, or purple, you’ll want to get the Air. Apple 11-inch iPad Professional vs iPad Air: Show The 11-inch iPad Professional has a barely larger show than the iPad Air. We’re in point of fact splitting hairs right here—it’s one-tenth of an inch. The answer is identical—264 pixels in line with inch—however the iPad Professional has simply barely slimmer bezels across the show, giving it room for a couple of extra pixels. Each shows even have True Tone and a large P3 colour gamut and apply Apple’s “liquid” retina design, which means the corners of the display are rounded to check the tool itself. The iPad Professional’s show is for sure awesome, even though. It’s brighter, with a max brightness of 600 nits in comparison to the Air’s 500 nits. However

the large get advantages is ProMotion, which we could the show run-up to 120Hz for smoother movement and decrease latency, particularly when the use of the Apple Pencil. The variation is palpable when switching between units, and when you’ve attempted the Professional, it’s very onerous to return. Our pick out: The additional brightness isn’t an enormous deal, however ProMotion is in point of fact great and is helping justify the upper worth of the iPad Professional. 11-inch iPad Professional vs iPad Air: Efficiency and reminiscence With the newest replace (to be had March 18, 2022), the iPad Air has the similar M1 processor because the iPad Professional. It’s were given 8 CPU cores, 8 GPU cores, and in virtually all respects must be offering precisely the similar efficiency. There’s just one small distinction. Each capsules have 8GB of RAM, except the 1TB and 2TB garage choices at the iPad Professional. Should you go for a kind of configurations, the iPad Professional may have 16GB of RAM. The ones garage choices don’t come affordable, alternatively, and the additional RAM almost definitely isn’t going to make a lot of a distinction with iPadOS. Our pick out: It’s a tie. It’s the similar processor, and to get 16GB of RAM you wish to have to pay for an enormous bite of garage at the iPad Professional. You’re not really to note the adaptation between 8GB and 16GB anyway, even in very in depth programs. Apple 11-inch iPad Professional vs iPad Air: Battery The battery capability is just about the similar in each iPads, round 29 watt-hours. Apple lists identical battery existence specifications: As much as 10 hours of browsing the internet on Wi‑Fi or gazing movies, 9 hours when on mobile (iPads infrequently stray from those numbers). ProMotion could be a battery drain whilst in use, however can save battery when in some instances the place the iPad can transfer to a miles decrease refresh price. Alternatively, the iPad Professional’s brighter show will most probably drain the battery slightly quicker if you happen to crank up the brightness. Our pick out: Both pill will final you via hours and use. For essentially the most section, we predict battery existence to be identical. 11-inch iPad Professional vs iPad Air: Garage The iPad Professional provides you with double the beginning garage: 128GB as a substitute of 64GB within the iPad Air. Each be offering a 256GB improve configuration ($100 extra at the iPad Professional and $150 extra at the iPad Air), however whilst the iPad Air stops there, the iPad Professional provides 512GB, 1TB, and 2TB choices. Our pick out: With the entire cloud garage and streaming at the present time, maximum customers don’t want greater than 256GB of garage in an iPad, however if you happen to do numerous paintings with 4K video or high-res footage, the choice for greater garage is good. Extra necessary is that the beginning garage is two times as large at the iPad Professional, and 64GB could be slightly small for all the apps and video games you’re going to obtain. 11-inch iPad Professional vs iPad Air: Face ID vs Contact ID Just like the iPhone, the iPad Professional makes use of Face ID, which makes use of the TrueDepth sensors at the entrance to liberate the pill and authenticate purchases and passwords. The iPad Air doesn’t have a TrueDepth module; it has Contact ID constructed into the aspect button. Each are simple to arrange and use in their very own manner, however Apple says the chances of spoofing Face ID is roughly 1 in a million vs 1 in 50,000 for Contact ID. Our pick out: Contact ID is lots excellent, however there’s without a doubt that Face ID is in most cases the quicker and more straightforward method to authenticate, input passwords, and liberate your tool. Jason Pass/IDG 11-inch iPad Professional vs iPad Air: Cameras At the rear of the iPad Air, you’ll discover a 12MP same old wide-angle digital camera. At the iPad Professional

you’ll in finding the similar digital camera, plus a 10MP Extremely Huge digital camera and a LiDAR sensor for higher AR positioning. We don’t assume you’ll be taking too many footage with both of those reasonably awkward cameras, however if you wish to, the iPad Professional has a obviously awesome array. Apple upgraded the iPad Air to a 12MP Extremely-Huge digital camera at the entrance, with beef up for Heart Degree, which pans and zooms to stay you the topic (you) within the body. So the entrance digital camera is just about similar between the 2 capsules. The iPad Professional has a TrueDepth sensor for Face ID, because of this it additionally helps Apple’s Animoj/Memoji, however picture and video-taking must be about the similar when the use of the entrance digital camera. Our pick out: The entrance digital camera is the extra necessary on a pill, and the 2 listed below are just about similar, as is the rear-facing 12MP digital camera. The iPad Professional has an edge with its 10MP Extremely Huge rear digital camera if that kind of factor issues to you. 11-inch iPad Professional vs iPad Air: Audio and microphones The iPad Air has first rate sound from its two-speaker stereo setup and a twin microphone array. It really works advantageous, however it’s not anything particular. The 11-inch iPad Professional, then again, has 4 audio system and 5 microphones that Apple calls “studio high quality.” We don’t know if we believe that moniker, however it’s virtually positive that the iPad Professional will produce higher recordings and higher-quality audio playback. Our pick out: The iPad Professional must carry awesome sound playback and recording. 11-inch iPad Professional vs iPad Air: Connectivity and equipment We like the iPad Air’s USB-C port, and it’s tournament speedy with the fifth-generation type, supporting information transfers as much as 10Gbps. However the 11-inch iPad Professional takes it a step additional. Its USB-C port helps USB4 and Thunderbolt, because of this a quicker most throughput of 40Gbit/sec. Each beef up a unmarried exterior show as much as 6K, even though. Each fashions beef up the brand new Magic Keyboard—even though the digital camera cutouts have compatibility slightly nicer at the 11-inch Professional—in addition to the 2d-generation Apple Pencil. Our pick out: Thunderbolt will not be one thing you wish to have now, however it could be well worth the funding. Through the years, there’s a significantly better likelihood that the units you purchase will paintings to their complete possible (or in any respect) with the iPad Professional’s Thunderbolt port over the iPad Air’s same old USB-C charging port. Should you’re basically fascinated with hooking up shows, the revel in must be identical with both one. Jason Pass/IDG 11-inch iPad Professional vs iPad Air: Wi-Fi and mobile Each iPads have Wi-Fi 6 with MIMO, simultaneous dual-band, and speeds as much as 1.6Gbps, in order that they’ll paintings nice at house. You additionally get Bluetooth 5 for AirPods and different wi-fi units. However if you happen to go for the Wi-Fi + Mobile type, there’s a small distinction. Each fashions even have 5G choices, however the iPad Air best helps sub-6GHz bands whilst the iPad Professional helps the quicker short-range mmWave bands as neatly. The mobile possibility prices extra at the iPad Professional ($200) than at the iPad Air ($150). Our pick out: You must believe sparsely whether or not you in point of fact want mobile get admission to for your iPad—the use of your iPhone as a wi-fi hotspot works extraordinarily neatly. The iPad Professional’s skill to connect with mmWave networks is of restricted use and also you pay $50 extra for mobile than you do at the iPad Air. 11-inch iPad Professional vs iPad Air: Conclusion Final yr, we concept the 11-inch iPad Professional was once the easier purchase. This yr, due to the processor improve and stepped forward entrance digital camera within the iPad Air, our opinion has reversed.

The iPad Professional is largely the similar measurement and function and helps the similar peripherals, however it prices $200 extra ($250 extra if you wish to have a cellular-equipped type). For that, you get: ProMotion show5-microphone array and 4 audio system10MP Extremely Huge rear digital camera with LiDARThunderboltFace IDDouble the garageReinforce for mmWave 5G bandsOur pick out: Maximum of the ones enhancements aren't this type of stuff you’ll really feel on a daily basis. ProMotion is the largest get advantages, and the additional garage is good, however they don’t appear value an additional $200. We expect maximum customers can be happiest with the iPad Air, in all probability with the 256GB possibility (which continues to be $50 lower than the beginning worth of the 128GB 11-inch iPad Professional). [ad_2] #11inch #iPad #Professional #iPad #Air #pill #purchase