⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀〝⠀For FORTY DAYS and for forty nights，THE LAW was⠀⠀⠀on her side，〞
I do not permit anyone to repost nor translate any of the work that lies beneath this line break. May this also be a quick reminder to not，and I repeat⸻ do not take from my characters，plots，graphics nor formats and try to use them as inspiration to those of your own advantage without asking me for permission or rightfully crediting me first! I originally came up with these ideas myself，that including my forewarning and playlists’ formatting. I would hate for new readers to be led astray by thinking I’m stealing from someone else when that really isn’t the case at all! I will not hesitate on blocking you from my account indefinitely either. Let this be your final warning!
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⁰⁰¹.⠀⟆⠀WANNA BE STARTIN’ SOMETHIN’࿐ ࿔*:·ﾟ
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❪SERIES⠀╱⠀CINEMA❫
▋⠀UNDERGROUND COMBAT ❪URBAN❫
PAIRING⠀⦂⠀street fighter!black!male oc ❪keith powers❫ ✕ black!female oc ❪kelis rogers，circa ‘99❫
⋮ㅤㅤㅤ⠀⠀⠀HAVING BEEN BIRTHED IN SEATTLE，Washington of late August with vaguely enough parental guidance，Kei Valentine had rightfully earned the persona of being spunky，straightforward，eccentric and diligent，but so had the boy whom was birthed twenty-four hours later，five years earlier and more than two⸻thousand miles apart from her. The only difference was that while Kei was discovering the positives in life though being abandoned at an early age， Tyree Devlin was raking up all the negatives before her. He was eager， callous，streetwise and rebellious as they came，thanks to the teachings of his only false God.
ㅤㅤㅤFar from compatible，how the two Leos paths aligned was something that only the underbelly of New York City took to swallow，digest and keep sacred，but it wasn’t at all unattainable to one’s own access. You just had to know the correct route to take and connects to make. This is Underground Combat.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀or⠀⠀⠀in which even the innocent can wind up being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
❱⠀CHAPTER UNO⠀⦂⠀〝HEAT WAVE.〞
❱⠀CHAPTER DOS，PT. 1╱2⠀⦂⠀〝SING ABOUT ME，〞
❱⠀CHAPTER DOS，PT. 2╱2⠀⦂⠀〝I’M DYING OF THIRST.〞
❱⠀CHAPTER TRES⠀⦂⠀〝LOVE THY NEIGHBOR.〞
❱⠀CHAPTER CUATRO⠀⦂⠀〝STOCKHOLM？〞
❱⠀CHAPTER CINCO⠀⦂⠀〝HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE A WOMAN SCORNED.〞
❱⠀CHAPTER SEIS，PT. 1╱2⠀⦂⠀〝HIGH RISKS，HIGH REWARDS.〞
❱⠀CHAPTER SEIS，PT. 2╱2⠀⦂⠀〝FORTUNE FAVORS THE BOLD.〞
❱⠀ACT II⠀⦂⠀〝IMPERIAL OVERSTRETCH.〞
❱⠀CHAPTER SIETE⠀⦂⠀〝THE MARATHON.〞❪COMING SOON❫!
▋⠀IF YOU WANT ME TO STAY ❪BLAXPLOITATION╱THE GET DOWN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE❫
PAIRING⠀⦂⠀shaolin fantastic ❪shameik alti moore❫ ✕ black!female oc ❪beyoncé giselle knowles-carter，circa ‘02❫
⋮ㅤㅤㅤ⠀⠀⠀REFLECTING ON MY YOUTH，I must’ve pitied myself. That was the only real explanation I could think of when it came down to injecting my developing mind，body and soul with any chemical compound that broke me down until I completely surpassed the feeling of numb. Numb to the fact I was being exploited more ways than one by the hands of those other than my own. Numb to the fact I endured it all just to temporarily substitute the void my mother left Roam and I in since the ages of six and ten. She manifested every aspect of the young woman I was so desperately trying to become；independent， selfless and seemed to have the answer to any question thrown her way. I grew dependent on men，selfish to my own habits and breach to every promise I vowed to keep，even those that were left lying on her deathbed. I was untouchable，Mr. Nicky Barnes，until I was repeatedly caught up in my own acts and imprisoned by the same narcotics that made me numb. The good thing about rehabilitation was that I found time to humble myself，the bad thing about rehabilitation was that it was always hard to resist temptation. My final recovery couldn't have came at a better timing. It was Summer of 1977 when I made my return to the burning borough of the Boogie Down Bronx to make amends with my only sibling，make steep career choices，fall in love with a man with just as much venom as myself，resist folding under the pressure of the crooked cops and maybe even get a hit of that sweet stuff they call Hip-Hop.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀or⠀⠀⠀in which the origin of hip-hop is told from a woman’s perspective.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀TABLE OF CONTENTS⠀⦂
❱⠀PROMOTIONAL POSTER.
❱⠀SYNOPSIS.
❱⠀CHAPTER ONE⠀⦂⠀〝BE THAT AS IT MAY.〞
❱⠀CHAPTER TWO⠀⦂⠀〝DISCO INFERNO.〞❪COMING SOON❫!
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⁰⁰¹.⠀⟆⠀BABY BE MINE࿐ ࿔*:·ﾟ
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❪IMAGINES⠀╱⠀ONE⸻SHOTS❫
Beneath this divider you’ll find imagines╱one⸻shots all written by me that will more than likely consist of black insert，heterosexual and sexually explicit content. lesbian╱bisexual imagines╱one⸻shots will rarely occur in this instance. My name or the names I’ve made up will be what the original characters go by，so no〝y╱n，〞❪？✕ reader❫，but feel free to replace these names with one of your own if you so please.
The requests╱suggestions section is currently unavailable for the time being，so please refrain from sending me any. I vow to inform you guys in the near future⸻ When I actually have more time on my hands⸻ On when this tab will actually be open to the general public and with more information regarding to how to earn one，so don’t fret! Just to inform you guys ahead of time，I will not be writing homosexual ❪boy ✕ boy❫ imagines╱one⸻shots╱headcannons forewarning.
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Verneisha was what my birth certificate said. By fifth grade the ‘Ver’ had been dropped and only ‘Neisha’ was acknowledged. High school came and Neisha had died too, I stepped into my true self and became ‘Nene’. Months after high school graduation I had no name, I had no family, and I had no money.
Let’s go to the beginning.
JULY 1989, Tampa FL
Hustlers will hustle. Each corner had at least three dealers, even with the Florida heat being it’s highest at 99 degrees Fahrenheit on a summer afternoon. There was one corner in the entire city where only one man stood. His hustle came easy unlike the others who moved in groups of pushers brazenly trying to catch sells. It was pitiful the way they begged fiends to cop from their bags.
“You want some rock, man?” A dealer asked, leaning in the car window of a man who belonged on Wall Street. “Buy mine. These the biggest rocks you’ll ever see in yo’ life man.” He held the pebble under the mans nose.
“Why is it yellow?” The fiend questioned.
There was no dealer in the world who would be cool with their work being downplayed, rather it had been truly stepped on or not; who the fuck did this crackhead think he was checking?
“Taste it,” the dealer demanded with a hardened face.
Another dealer from the same corner named T-Lo skipped up to the car window and boasted about his supply. “Try this then. I got that ring the alarm. Shit so good it’s gone have your ears ringing. Man it’s so good.”
The pale skinned man in his silver BMW coupe was becoming scared of the men at this point and wanted to ride off. He slowly begin to roll his window up when a flash of anger came into the first dealers eyes. He reached his hands through the window and popped the door open.
“Nah man’. You don’t come on this side and not buy nothing now I’m thinking you the police.” He grabbed the mans tie and threw him onto the hood of his own car. “You got a wire on pretty boy?” He gritted into his ear as he pinned him onto the burning hot car hood. Loud, heart piercing screams came from the buyers mouth as his face sizzled and melted. He tried to scream for help, he tried screaming that he wasn’t the police and didn’t work with the police but the dealer kept up with the punishment. After feeling like he was near death the dealer had finally released him and tossed him to the ground. Landing a hard kick to his ribs and then to his face. Leaving him rolling on the hard, lava hot, cemented paved road.
SKURRRRTTTTT
The sound of the silver BMW speeding off sent the fiend into a panic. While he was a fiend, he was just like many other fiends. Rich, successful, and married. How would he go home to his wife with burn marks on his face, possibly fractured ribs, cuts and scrapes from being thrown to the floor, and most importantly without his $100,000 car. Fighting tooth and nail, he got back to his feet as he struggled to breathe. The other dealers on the corner just looked at him stumbling away and down the street. He made it a good five blocks before he collapsed at the feet of some brown Penny loafers belonging to Vernon House. The 6 foot 2 man always dressed in the best, even standing here on the corner he looked fresh out of heaven. His white linen pants had the creases going down the middle of the leg, the matching button up was halfway open showing his large cross medallion dangling from his thick gold chain. A look of confusion spread across his face as he took a cautious step back from the passed out man. Only three people frequented this block and that was dealers, hookers, and fiends. He wasn’t a dealer or hooker so that left him as a fiend. He looked over his shoulders before putting two fingers to the mans neck to check for a pulse. Very strongly, the man still had a pulse. Vernon could’ve done what any other dealer would— kick this cracka off his corner. But he was a business man and knew building rapport with his junkies was money guaranteed. Without thinking twice he scooped the man up from the floor and drove him across town to his North Tampa home. His wife was there along with their three year old child. He knew bringing a junkie home would send his wife into flames but later down the line she would thank him. He was strategic man and always had a plan.
“Baby I need some help!” He called out to her as he bussed through the front door.
Her eyes grew twice the size the moment they landed on the white man being carried bridal style. In a flash she was hovering over him examining him as if he was an undefined object.
“Why in the world did you bring a dead body in here?!” She asked in a hush tone.
“He ain’t dead. Just fell out.” Vernon told her taking him to the couch. “Just get me some cold compresses and ice.” He started to take off the mans suit jacket and shirt.
A gasp escaped from the grown man mouth. He had never saw something like that. The side of the mans chest looked like his skin had sunken in. There was arrays of blue, purple, and black bruising with what he was sure was the mans rib bone sticking out. Whoever had gotten ahold of this man did a number on him.
After hours of nursing him to health. Edwin eyes finally cracked open, his throat extremely dry, and body in the worse pain one could imagine. His body went into survival mode and he tried to jump up from the sofa but it only made a burning sensation rip through his body.
“Woah. Woah. Take it easy my mans. You got yourself into some shit. You remember where you was at?” Vernon placed a friendly hand on his shoulder.
Edwin nodded back into consciousness and it all came rushing back to him. All he wanted to do was cop a 8 ball, but somehow got the ass whooping of his life and car jacked. He didn't know what he would say to his wife when he got home but he needed to start thinking and quick.
“My wife is going to kill me.” is all he could muster up to stay.
“We can see what we can do about that, you on the rocks? What was up on the AVE for you?” Vernon questioned.
Edwins head dropped in embarrassment, since the crack epidemic started he was able to keep his nasty habit low-key but now he felt like his hands had been exposed.
“I’m not here to judge you. Here try this shit... if you like it, you keep coming to me only and I’ll look out for you.” Vernon slid him a line and a rolled up dollar bill. Like a child takes to candy, Edwin snorted the crack up in a single second. Immediately he felt euphoria take over his essence. There's that feeling in his stomach that he loved so much, a soft mix of nausea and electric tingles. His head had begun to buzz and his heart rate increased as if he was running away like he wanted to.
From that moment on a friendship for life was formed. Whatever Vernon needed Edwin would get it and vice versa. Since the day Vernon never stood on another corner, he would have never imagined a junkie falling dead at his feet would make him the richest dope peddler in America.
Almost 4 months ago, @wahidaclark and I set out to create a space in sci-fi/fantasy where BIPOC authors, and our allies could be unapologetically amplified. We called it (SF/F)or the Culture. We brought on board dope authors like @debreneebyrd @jon_dough_series @zed.amadeo and @dbbraythewriter and if your not following them you should. We know there are gatekeepers, especially in the world of literature and SFF and so @sffortheculture is meant to be siege engine, a scaling ladder, a battering ram. We are here to show the world that #blackauthorsmatter #blackstoriesmatter and #blackstorieshavepower ✊🏿 We are here to #amplifymelanatedvoices and bring the world more #blackgirlmagic and #blackboyjoy 🙌🏿🙌🏿🙌🏿 We are @sffortheculture and I am inordinately proud of what we are building. #ownvoices #letsreadownvoices #blackhistory #fantasy #scifi #SFF #Afrofuturism #StreetLit #WahidaClark #diversefantasy #diversebooks #blackpublishing #blackpublishingpower #diversityinpublishing #swordandsoul #readsoullit #blackbookstagram #bookstagram #bipocbookstagram #blackauthors #bipocauthors #supportblackauthors #buyblack #supportblackbusinesses https://www.instagram.com/p/CLcCygnAGMT/?igshid=1tt8vf69vakul
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Kamille Hendrix stood outside of her salon. As usual her boyfriend of five years, Alonzo, was taking forever to come pick her up.
“What is taking him so long?” she asked herself while looking at her rose gold MK watch.
“How are you doing?” A tall muscular gentleman walked up beside her. The scent of his cologne soaked into her path and almost caused her knees to shake.
“I'm fine thank you.”
“Do you work here?” he asked
“Yea I do. I'm a stylist here at Flawless Designs.” she pointed back at the salon.
“Cool. I'm a personal trainer in the gym around the corner.”
“I can see you're clients are in good hands.” Kamille looked at his bulging biceps and firm chest.
“I'd like to think so. I could hook you up and make that body real tight. Do you work out?” He looked her up and down from head to toe.
“I get a good work out in from time to time. I said I was gonna join that gym or at least check it out. Lord knows I could use a few rounds on the treadmill the way I eat.” she laughed
“From where I stand you look just fine.” he flirted.
“What's your name?” he asked
“Kamille. With a K”
“That's hot.”
“So am I.” she flirted back
“Alright Ms. Lady I hear you. I'm Devin. It's crazy that I've never seen you before. A woman as beautiful as you are, is hard to miss. So what are you doing out here?” he was smooth and his confidence gave her butterflies in the pit of her stomach.
“I just got off. I'm waiting on my boyfriend.”
“Oh you have a boyfriend.” he appeared somewhat disappointed.
“Yea I do,he's suppose to be here by now. My car is in the shop and he has been chauffeuring me around for the past week. I'll be glad when I'm back to pushing my own wheels.”
“Well let me give you my card. If you decide you want to join the gym, hit me up. I can hook you up with the employee discount.”
“I just might do that.” Kamille flashed her million dollar smile and tossed her 22 inch weave over one shoulder.
“See you later beautiful.” His piercing black eyes gazed in her direction. As he walked away she couldn't help but stare at the gorgeous stranger. He had a natural authentic swagger that demanded attention. Kamille couldn't put her finger on it but there was something different about Devin. A ten minute conversation had completely taken over her mind. So much so that she didn't even notice when Alonzo pulled up into the parking space in front of her. Her eyes still stared in the direction that Devin walked in.
Im Shaunta'e author of 6 books that u can check out at www.justbrandnu.com Im also on Amazon and Barnes and Noble online. I also have a clothing line u can check out at www.brandnuapparel.com Make sure u support my hustling ass! I support back!!!! #author #entrepreneur #entertainment #hustle #hustlegoddess #hustlegod #readers #read #apparel #streetlit #clothing #business #support #bookstagram #books# #urbanfiction
