#bosh tattoo

[lundenloves]

dad!simon headcannons part 2

Oh we all have issues don’t we? The fact this whole dad!simon series is doing so well makes me sit back and grin. We’re all damaged together. Now now, no one go off wandering we must stick together troops. The mystical path of paternal issues is highly dangerous.

These are my 1am thoughts. i need this man biblically.

dad!simon masterlist | hc 1

This man has the strongest genes of all time. Like his kids look the spit of him, absolute 1:1 replicas. Except they’re little girls like that’s so fucking cute stop i’m putting my weapons down. Head in my fucking hands. FUCK.

His kids colour in his tattoos. And he’ll go to work the next day with like a big fuck off red and blue sleeve, and 141 are all like new ink Lt? Met with a sarcastic narrowed eye nod. Obviously.

You best believe he’s mad sensitive about his girls. Like anytime someone brings them up, he’s straight onto that shit like staring. And it’ll literally be Price saying how sweet they are or smth 💀

When his eldest daughter is like I wanna do the forces too he’s all like absolutely not.

It’s probably like the one thing he’s stubborn on. He loves his job, for him. Not for his daughters. He could talk for days on why it’s not happening.

“Don’t care. Not happening, pet.”

His youngest could not be less interested in the forces. Probably wants to be a singer or something completely unrelated. Simon has no idea how that happened but he’s thankful to whoever is up there in the sky.

The kids be asking him for robux or some dumb asf online money and he’s all like: what i’m spending real money to give you virtual money? No.

Dad Is A Climbing Frame™️

This man could hang like four kids off his arms. Let’s say he has three. One would be hugging around his neck, the other two hung onto his arms by their small hands and legs joined around his biceps. Koala style mf.

You walk in and ignore it.

Usual antics in the Riley household.

Also definitely does push-ups with the kids on his back. They’re roaring laughing at how funny it is to be moved up and down while sitting. just like me fr. All three of them sat on his back when you walk into the living room one morning. “Mornin’.”

School parent nights. Stop. i’ll have to do a whole thing ab this. someone remind me. I just know this man would rather be anywhere else on the planet than at one of those. You however do not let him slip.

“I’m not sleeping, just resting my eyes.”

The kids draw family pictures of him with the mask on. Always a place on the fridge for one of them, slap a magnet on top. Bosh. This also kickstarts an obsession with skeleton things, inspiring many a poorly made halloween costume.

“If they ask you what you’re supposed to be just say a skeleton or summat.”

“But i’m Ghost.”

“You’re a skeleton, kid.”

“Then so are you.” Said with a frown.

Getting told off by his daughters for doing things wrong 25/8. This man cannot cut tomatoes the way they approve of to save his life. “That’s not how mum does it.”

“I’m not mum.”

taglist? fill out this form.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley Taglist: @sketchscientist @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @liishook @abbsaura @takeomisbitch

if you would like to be removed from a taglist, pm me.

[pantsaretherealheroes]

fuck it friday: for this and the other midweek tags, thanks for continuing to tag me @cal-daisies-and-briars and @jeeyuns

(i have tried to post this THRICE and tumblr is being a bitch about it, snippets under the cut)

this is from a new au that i'm doing alongside my other bosh one, inspired by the movie stranger than fiction that i rewatched recently (it's great)

snippet one:

“You realise if people aren’t paying taxes, we get anarchy. Are you an anarchist?” Eddie asks, and maybe this is guy is getting to him more than expected. Maybe it’s been a weird fucking couple of days. Either way, it’s throwing him off.

“Maybe,” Evan Buckley says, a twinkle in his very blue eyes. “What do you think?”

“Well, if you’re anarchist, I assume you’re with a group,” Eddie continues, somehow feeling like he’s been lead into a trap.

“An anarchist group?” Evan Buckley says slowly, leaning forward. "Like them meeting up and organising together?"

Eddie feels like he should move backwards, or something. He doesn’t. “Yeah. Like, anonymous, or whatever.”

Evan Buckley doesn’t look away, and drops his voice. “Wouldn’t that kinda defeat the whole point?” he stage-whispers slowly.

Eddie doesn’t say anything for a moment, distracted by a smudge of flour on Evan Buckley’s cheek.

Another timer goes, and Evan Buckley smiles and turns to go back to the table where he was rolling out dough.

Eddie could perhaps imagine Evan Buckley as a revolutionary –

“Not now,” Eddie can’t help himself muttering.

That fucking voice was back.

“What?” Evan Buckley asks, looking up.

– his thick, muscular arms hoisting protest signs and banners; his long, long legs helping him and his friends run from police –

“Uh, nothing,” Eddie says, weakly. He takes some comfort in the fact that Evan Buckley can’t hear the narrator, that it seems just to be him. But not that much.

Eddie wasn’t the kind of man given to daydreams or fantasies, so he tried his best to remain professional in the moment. He of course, failed.

Eddie is in hell, apparently. The Catholic Church was right all this time, and it was either the premarital sex or the…other thing that had landed him here.

He watched Evan Buckley swipe a hand through his messy brown curls, getting flour in his hair, as if time had slowed to half its usual pace. He continued to watch him knead dough with those muscular arms, around which snaked all manner of tattoos – coloured florals, two bicep lines similar to one Eddie had hidden under the dark suit, lines of what seemed to be cursive text, more tattoos than Eddie would’ve dreamed of ever having, but wow, the way they looked on him – and work it gently with his fingers, and couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have his cheek touched that gently by those fingers, and to touch that stubble to his own skin. He couldn’t help imagine what it would feel like to have those big hands and arms kneading his body, only skin between them –  

snippet two:

“My apologies,” the woman says, curtly. He doubts she means it. “My name is Athena Grant. Your publishers hired me to help you.”

Bobby frowns. “Oh, that’s today?”

“From today,” Athena amends. She’s very commanding, in her manner. Confident, but not showy. An interesting character.

“So, you’re here to spy on me?” he asks, annoyed.

Athena purses her lips into a thin line. “I’m here to help you, Mr. Nash. With finishing the book. I can talk plot points with you, characterisation, or I can get you what you need to write.” She pauses, staring at him with her sharp eyes. He almost can’t look away. “Provided it’s legal. The publishers have informed me of your history, and I will not disclose that to another soul. But I will not tolerate any of that while we work together, is that understood?”

Bobby snorts. “Sure, but I’m clean. I don’t even drink, and that’s legal. I just have the cigarettes, now.”

“I guess that’s a fair compromise,” Athena replies. She’s quite beautiful, actually, now he’s been focusing on her for a moment. Beautiful and severe. Her stoic expression is made of granite, impossible to crack.

“I don’t need an assistant,” Bobby mutters.

Athena’s lips become even thinner. “Good, because I’m not one. I am a creative partner, here to support you, but I won’t stand for disrespect.”

Bobby climbs down off the table. “Noted.” He watches her. “So, you’re here to support me, and to report back because my publishers think I have writer’s block.”

Athena looks unfazed, of course. “Do you?”

Bobby doesn’t answer. He’s not sure. “What do you think about leaping off a building?”

Athena’s eyebrows constrict, but her mouth stops looking so severe. “I don’t think about that.”

“Sure you do,” Bobby retorts. “Everyone does.”

“Well, I certainly do not,” Athena replies coolly.

Bobby grabs another cigarette, and his lighter. “I read this very fantastically depressing book recently, and there was this photo in it, old, called The Leaper.”

He takes a drag off the new cigarette.

“It was a woman, taken from above, who’d just jumped. There was blood fanned out around her head like a halo. I mean, her legs were buckled underneath, and her arm was snapped like a twig. But her face was just…so serene. So at peace. And I think it’s because when she jumped she could feel the wind against her face.”

He blinks, snapping out of it. “I don’t know how to kill Eddie Diaz. And that’s why they sent you.”  

“Well, I can help you with that,” Athena says. “It’s my job.”

Bobby gets up, walking over to the window. “Well, sure, but as much as I’d like to, I can’t just throw Eddie off a building. It wouldn’t make sense, he’d never kill himself.”

Athena picks up the ashtray and brings it over to him. He finds himself putting it out.

She fixes him with a stare. “Mr Nash, I’ve been doing this for fifteen years. I’ve helped more than twenty authors complete around thirty-five books, and I’ve never missed a deadline. And I’ve never had to ask for more time.” She pauses. He doesn’t look away. “I care about the work. I will make your book what I eat, sleep and breathe. I work full time hours and will be available to you as much as possible, until the last bit of punctuation is embedded on the last page.”

Bobby frowns.

Athena is unmoved. “I do not like loud music. I will not abide narcotics.” She pauses, and he knows she means everything she’s saying by the intent look in her eyes. “And I will gladly, and remorselessly, help you find a way to kill Eddie Diaz.”

Bobby rubs a hand over his stubble. He probably needs a shower. “Alright. Let’s figure out how to kill a man.”

[mykneeshurt]

Haunted part 7

I’m back! Married and ready to rumble! I am actually a Price now too haha. I finally have the game which I spent like … 6/7 hours playing today 😂 I’m loving it!

Thank you to argella1300 on AO3 for the suggestion about the sunburn and lotion lmao, I loved it!

Warnings - smut tbh. Explicit smut. That’s it I think 😂 some fluff and angst

I can’t work out how to do a tag list it doesn’t work 😭 this isn’t proof read!!!

Part 8

A few days later you had been sent to Suez, in Egypt. A brief mission to intercept some stolen weapons, while you were waiting for Makarov to make his next move. Laswell was keeping Price updated. The plan was for the boys to raid the local Suez port, locate the weapons cache and return to base. Bish. Bash. Bosh.

The morning sun beamed in through the dusty windows of the small base you were situated on. You were in your room finishing getting ready when you overheard Gaz and Soap talking. ‘Soap, you’re not harder than the sun. You need to put on sun lotion.’ Soap snorted ‘Naw pal, I’ll be fine! I don’t burn.’ Hearing this absolute stupidity you grabbed a bottle of factor 50 and stormed down the corridor. ‘JOHN MCTAVISH!’ His eyes widened in fear as your voice boomed into his ear. Gaz and Price smirked and left out a laugh in unison. ‘You’ve fucked it now son’ Price laughed.

Rounding the corner you stood arms crossed glaring at the terrified solider. ‘If you come back burnt, so help me god I’ll slap you into next week. You’re pale as fuck of course you’ll burn! Our Celtic skin hates the sun you absolute dickhead. Put. This. On.’ Soap looked like a scolded child as he went to open his mouth. ‘Don’t. You. Dare’ you interrupted, ‘skin cancer is a leading cause of death. Wear it.’ Price and Gaz were stifling their giggles as John took the lotion from your hand. ‘That goes for you too’ you scowled looking over at Gaz and Price. ‘Yes ma’am’ they replied in unison.

Ghost walked in through the front door after preparing the jeeps for the journey. He was wearing tan cargo pants and a tan shirt with the sleeves rolled up exposing his tattoo. ‘Fuckin boiling out there’ he muttered under his breath. He walked in to you staring down the rest of the team ‘alright?’ He questioned looking cautiously over to you. ‘Yeah, Soap just thinks he’s harder than the sun is all.’ You shot him a warning look out of the corner of your eye. Soap fake surrendered putting his hands in the air, still looking like a terrified child.

‘Anyway … ‘ Ghost continued ‘let’s move out. Meeting our contact in 30 minutes. Gaz you’re driving, Price upfront, me and Johnny will take the back.’ The three men nodded and filed outside, Ghost approached you and squeezed your wrist. You smiled up at him ‘be careful Simon. Please?’ He silently nodded before walking out.

As you glanced down you saw Soap had left the sun lotion on the table. That stupid fuck. Grabbing the bottle you barged past Ghost and launched the bottle full force at Soap. The bottle collided with the back of his head with a satisfying thump. Gaz and Price fell about laughing, trying to keep some composure before going on the mission. ‘Don’t fuckin try me John! I ain’t dealing with you like last time!’

The last time being when you were in Mexico on a stakeout, Soap and Ghost had gotten horrendously sunburnt, burns and blisters on their arms. It was cloudy out and they didn’t listen to your warning of the high UV index that day. They both came back with crispier skin than the chickens at KFC. They needed inadine patches to help the skin heal and the open sores to be cleaned regularly. Which of course meant more work for you, you gave them a huge lecture on sunburn and the dangers of it. Ghost took it on board, Soap however clearly did not.

It took weeks to heal and they both moped around base grimacing in pain every time they saw you. Soap tried to avoid you as much as he could, petrified you’d show him the pictures of sunburn again. ‘McTavish! Sit your ass down and look at these. This will be your skin if you don’t apply lotion. I’ve told you time and time again to wear it. You’re a pain in the fuckin neck.’ It took all of your restraint not to slap his sunburn to teach him a lesson.

Soap rubbed the back of his head, a red patch forming already. ‘Fuckin hells bells woman! You need to be on a rounders team with an arm like that.’ Laughing to yourself Ghost came up behind you ‘could you not concuss my Sargent before the mission? He’s useless as it is.’ Soap shot his head around ‘aw come on now Lt. I know you’ve got a soft spot for me.’ Ghost rolled his eyes before walking over the the jeep and sliding in next Soap.

Over the next few hours you caught up on paperwork of minor injuries you had to deal with. Ready to put onto their clinical notes back at base. You cleaned your Glock 17 and timed yourself taking it apart and putting it back together again. Determined to beat Ghosts time he set.

The boys retuned and filled you in on the operation, it actually went straightforward for once. A couple of scrapes and bruises but all in all nothing much for you to do. ‘Laswell found what she needed to?’ You asked Price tucking into your protein bar. ‘Just waiting for confirmation kid, Makarovs been seen back in Russia, fucker is working with Hassan. Known terrorist, who we also know is working with the cartel in Las Almas.’ Your eyes widened, Jesus, this was extensive. ‘Christ, back to Mexico I take it then?’

‘Yeah, meeting up with Shadow Company. They’ll be assisting us with finding Hassan, and in turn Makarov.’ Price rubbed his beard as he spoke, seemingly lost in thought. ‘Evac tomorrow at dawn, get your heads down. Got a hell of an operation a head of us.’

1 week later

You sat in your new clinic at Alejandro’s base in Las Alma’s, Alejandro is the leader of Los Vaqueros. Smooth talker and passionate about protecting the people who live there. Rodolfo, the cutie that he is, is Alejandro’s right hand man, served with each other for 20 years. They looked after you and got you what ever you needed.

There was a knock at the door, turning round your eyes lit up seeing Ghost stood at the door. ‘Hey’ you said quietly, offering him a small grin. ‘We’ve got a hit on Hassan, heading out tomorrow. Just waitin’ for Graves.’ Your smile soon dropped. You hardly spent any time with each other since the night you spent together. Part of the job you guessed, but it still got you down. You walked past him and shut the door, locking it. ‘What you doin’?’ He asked puzzled. You leant on your door with your hands behind your back and bit your lip. ‘I don’t know when I’m gonna see you next. This operation is huge. I have you here and now, I’m making the most of it.’

You slinked over to him and slid your hands down his arms. You inhaled his scent, musky and clean, grabbing hold of his wrists you stroked his skin peeking out between his sleeves and gloves. He let out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. Your touch always managed to break down the walls he kept up, ever so slightly. It offered him some grounding from the never ending storm that consumed his mind. He cupped your face, and studied your eyes, your beautiful eyes. ‘I’m comin’ back’ he said gently. Tears began to stab the back of your eyes ‘I’ll hold you to that Riley. I like havin’ you around.’

He pulled you into him and encased you in his arms, you both stood like this for some time. He placed a masked kiss on your forehead, ‘I take it you locked the door for a reason?’ You smirked and looked up at him, giving your best doe eyes. ‘Maybe.’ With that he pulled up his mask to his nose and swooped onto your lips. He forced his tongue inside of your lips, both tongues fighting for control. Teeth clashed together in the fierce mess of desire that was your kiss. Struggling for breath you pulled away, adrenaline surging through you.

Fumbling with his belt, you eventually undid it before undoing your own. ‘Don’t think I’ve ever seen you so needy’ he mumbled into your ear. ‘Shut up Simon.’ You slid your hand into his trousers and grazed the tip of his hard cock, eliciting a gritted hiss from him. ‘On your fuckin knees’ he growled as he pulled your hair. Doing as he wished you sank to your knees, maintaining eye contact with him. Shimmying his trousers and boxers down just enough to free his throbbing cock you placed a tender kiss on the tip. He cupped your jaw and caressed it with his thumb.

Taking him into your mouth he threw his head back, a guttural moan building in the depths of the chest. You swirled your tongue around his shaft before you started bobbing your head. Setting up your own rhythm you dig your nails into the material of his trousers. The length was perfectly perfect, but he was thick. Placing his hand on the back of your head he pushed you beyond your limit. Gagging noises filled the room, tears pricked your eyes as you fought for breath. The familiar taste or pre-cum slid down your throat as he let out desperate breaths. Spit adorned your chin as you tried to keep up with his demanding pace. Seemingly knowing you were reaching your limit he pulled out and stood you up, licking the drool of your chin. ‘Atta girl.’

He backed you up against the counter and lifted you onto it with ease. Yanking down your trousers he pulled one leg free and hooked it around his waist. He spat into his hand and cupped your already soaking cunt. ‘Fuck, so wet already.’ You moaned in reply, the feel of his fingers on your swollen clit felt like ecstasy. ‘Just fuck me’ you moaned into his mouth kissing him, ‘please. Need you so bad.’ He lined himself up at your entrance and slid himself in with ease. You pulled him into your neck groaning into his ear as he peppered your neck with kissed. His hips slammed into yours, the feel of your wet cunt around his cock made him pick up his pace. He found your collarbone and bit into it, ‘fuck Simon.’ You grasped at the back of his neck trying to steady yourself. ‘So … tight … fuck’ he moaned into your neck. ‘Harder Simon, f … faster, please please please.’

Your needy begs were making him come undone, the whimper in your voice drove him to the edge. He was so close but he refused to finish until you did. He placed your hand on your clit ‘show me, show me what you do when you think of me’ he demanded. You rubbed firm circles onto your clit, instantly you felt your stomach tightening. ‘God I’m so close Simon’ you panted. ‘Good girl, keep goin’ for me, wanna feel you come.’ He pulled you closer by your hip, bruise marks were certain, but the thought of him marking you excited you even more. You slammed your forehead against his chest to muffle the moans, your other hand cradled the back of his head. ‘Come for me, that’s it come on my cock.’

The building orgasm was becoming unbearable, the coil in your stomach was so close to snapping. A flurry of begs left your mouth as he he whispered filthy praise into your ear. Finally it snapped, your moans bordered on sounding possessed as he slammed his cock into you. ‘Where?’ Almost immediately you answered ‘come in me Simon, please, I wanna feel you.’ He pulled your head back by your hair ‘you’re a fuckin filthy bitch’ he groaned as he slammed his lips into yours. Kissing you he came as he moaned into your mouth. His come filling you up, leaving you feel completely satisfied.

As he pulled away the sudden realisation of what he’d done had set in, his widened as he looked at you. Knowing instantly what he was thinking you cupped his jaw and laughed ‘I’m on the pill, don’t worry.’ He relaxed into your touch as he pulled out, watching the mess he’d made slip out of you. ‘In that case, can’t waste it can we?’ He used two fingers to push his cum back into your freshly used cunt. The sudden overstimulation took you by surprise, yelping in surprise. ‘Fuuuuuck Simon.’ Your eyes rolled back as you bit your lip.

As the wave of pleasure slowly dissipated you were met with Simon staring at you. ‘Yes?’ You smiled. He leant in and kissed you again before tucking the stupid strand of hair behind your ear. ‘Man of many words aren’t you Riley?’ You teased. But you knew he struggled to say how he felt, so you’d take his gestures of affection. Actions speak louder than words so they say.

After he helped you clean yourself up he held your hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘Come back to me Simon’ you repeated ‘please.’

‘Can’t leave you lookin after Soap on your own can I?’ You snorted, he was like your child, especially with the type of banter you had between you. ‘No, you absolutely cannot. I’ll kill him.’ Ghost stood and placed one more kiss on your forehead ‘We’ll update you when we can love.’ Nodding you watched as Ghost left your room, sadness weighed heavy upon you. This was a huge mission before them. You knew they were more than capable, all of them. They were your boys.

Ghost couldn’t cope with all the emotions he was feeling because of you. His mind was screaming at him not to carry on with you. To break your heart and stay away from each other. But his heart wanted you, wanted some happiness, wanted something his mother would be proud of. The last happy memory he had was of hugging his mother. But he felt he didn’t deserve happiness, he was a killing machine, cold, somewhat psychopathic. He didn’t deserve you, your touch, your smile, your warmth. He deserved to feel the way he feels because of everything he’s done. But your presence never left him, never left his mind, his thoughts. He couldn’t shake how you affected him, how much he needs you. You completely and utterly haunted his mind.

[hyypnotix-writes]

YES, THE PROCESS

idk if it’ll be the same to yours - but you go in, fill out a form to make sure you’re eligible (checks things like if you’ve had a new piercing recently, a tattoo, left the country in the past however many months, etc.)

if you’re all good, you go to a little area where they prick your finger and drop a blob of your blood into a lil liquid - I don’t fully know if you want it to sink or float or what, but it’ll tell them if you have good blood either way

if you do - you sit in a lil recliney chair, they strap up your arm to get the blood all nice and ready, stab the needle in to like ..the opposite of your elbow? idk what we’re calling that

then they release the strap and let the blood flow for however many minutes - they tell you to keep squeezing your hand into a fist as it goes

after that’s all done, they might say thanks - and you get some juice and a biscuit before you go home 🤙🏻

bish bash bosh

[lyrics724]

Little Bo Bitch

Little bo bitch Little bo bitch Little bo Little bo bitch Little bo bitch Little bo She’s the queen of the scene She’s got the reptile smileLittle bo bitch Little bo bitch Little bo She got the black and blues Got egyptian eyesLittle bo bitch Little bo bitch Little boShe’s got a snake tattoo wrapped around her thighLittle bo bitch Little bo bitch Little boAnd she’s always smoking cigarettes What…

[ririreader]

Older Remus Lupin x female Hogwarts Professor

Blurb: after the Yule Ball, Remus and a fellow Professor finally get a little closer.

Warnings: smut. 18+. Praise kink. Size kink. Nervous Remus. Alcohol consumption. Dirty talk.

The two stumbled up the steps to the teacher’s quarters, leaning on one another precariously. Neither were drunk, per se, just tipsy and exhausted from the night’s festivities. It was well after midnight, and the flight of stairs seemed to have tripled in length. With a groan, y/n pulled herself to the top step with little grace.

“I’m never wearing heels again.”

“Oh, but they look so sporting on you!”

“I’ll be sure to let you borrow them for the next ball.”

She deadpanned at Remus with a poorly concealed smirk. He smiled lazily, hair flopping into his eyes as he cocked his head.

“Only if you think they’ll fit.”

She laughed and slouched against the stone wall. A moment passed silently, the two grinning stupidly at one another.

“You really do look marvelous tonight, doll.”

She looked like she was dressed in starlight. She wore a silver slip dress, the plunging neckline trimmed in silver and white glitter. Gold thin chains rested over her shoulders as makeshift sleeves, tiny diamonds studded along the chains that sparkled each time she turned. The dress cut off mid-thigh, showing off her long legs. He had been speechless when she entered the Great Hall.

She smiled at him. She had the whitest teeth he had ever seen, a stark contrast to her toffee skin. Her hair was down, thick black curls spilling over her shoulders. He loved her hair. It was so curly and wild. He had wanted to tell her the moment he met her, but felt inappropriate doing so.

“You look quite spiffy yourself, Lupin.”

She tugged at his tie. He blushed, swatting her hand away.

“It’s like putting lipstick on a pig.”

“Oh, bosh. You’re a handsome devil and you know it— don’t give me that nonsense.”

She turned and worked the lock of her door.

“Make yourself useful and come unzip me from this sparkly contraption.”

His blush deepened. He hesitated awkwardly for a moment. She had bustled into the room, completely unbothered by her statement. He puffed out his cheeks, releasing a loud breath and following her.

She was sitting on her bed, undoing the straps of her heels. She groaned once her feet were free, massaging the soles with a wince.

“Horrible creations, those are.”

She stood and waddled over to him, grimacing each time she stepped. He was leaning against her door, hands in his pockets. He sported an amused grin. She turned, showing him her back. She bunched her hair into a bun with her hands and cocked her head over her shoulder.

“Unzip me, darling?”

He swallowed hard, walking over to her. His hands suddenly felt awkward. He was seized with the sudden fear that he would forget how to work a zipper. He rested one hand on her shoulder, the other hand working the zipper. Every inch he unzipped revealed more brown skin, surprisingly covered in tattoos. His hands were shaking. He prayed she didn’t notice. What a fool she must think of him.

He had paused at the base of her back, fingers still lingering on the zipper. He cleared his throat.

“Should be set, love.”

“There’s a clasp for the chains, too. Can you unhook them?”

Oh, lord. His old heart couldn’t take it. He examined her shoulders, locating the clasps. His hands were much too big for this nonsense. He clicked the first clasp. The chains sprung forward from the lack of tension, lying over her chest. He took in the tattooed skin of her shoulder. How he wanted to kiss it. He swallowed, turning his attention to the other shoulder. With a small pop the other clasp was free. Now her entire back and shoulders were exposed to him. He looked over her greedily, trying to memorize every bit of her before she turned around.

She groaned, releasing her hair and turning to him. Her arm went around her chest, holding up the slippery silk of her dress.

“Much better. Thank you.”

She smiled. He was openly staring at her shoulders.

“What do the tattoos mean?”

She looked surprised, as if she had forgotten she had them.

“Oh! They’re Muggle children’s book illustrations.”

He smiled, cocking his head.

“Really? What’s your favorite?”

She turned, showing him her back.

“The Magician’s Nephew.”

He chuckled as he traced the illustration, noting her shiver.

“The Chronicles of Narnia, aye?”

She turned around with a look of delight.

“You know it?”

“Of course I do. They’re classics. You think just because I can do magic I don’t want to read about it?”

“Never thought about a wizard reading a Muggle book about magic, I suppose.”

He eyed her for a moment.

“You look like a shooting star.”

He felt silly for saying it the moment it left his lips. How many times was he going to blush tonight?

She cocked her head.

“Are you going to make a wish on me?”

His brain was a static hum. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish. He swallowed hard for the millionth time. Was she flirting? Should he flirt back? Did he even remember how to flirt? He had a few wishes he could think of, certainly. Instead of voicing them, he laughed anxiously and said nothing.

She smirked.

“I saw a thought cross your mind. What was it?”

His eyes widened. At this point, his head would likely catch fire from how hot his cheeks were. She stepped closer to him, leaving an inch or so between them. She bit her lip.

“What’s your wish, Remus?”

His eyes hooded. The heat from his face rushed to his groin. His voice was rough when he spoke.

“I wish you would move your arm and let that dress fall to the floor.”

He held his breath, horrified at his boldness. She only smirked in response.

“Well, that’s an easy enough wish to fulfill.”

In one fluid motion she moved her arm, letting the dress pool at her feet. She stepped out of the fabric, breasts bared to him fully. A small slip of white fabric one could hardly call underwear was all she wore. His mouth had fallen open, his body frozen. He stood gaping at her.

“Words.”

He cleared his throat.

“I should say words.”

She laughed lightly, pressing herself against him. His hands were still in his pockets. She rubbed her nose against his, his breath hot against her lips.

“You’re so small.” He whispered.

“And you’re so big.”

She stood on her tiptoes to reach his face fully. He easily had a foot on her.

“Tell me what you wish, Remus. Be brave.”

He inhaled deeply and summoned his courage. He closed his eyes, unable to face her when he spoke.

“Get on your knees for me, love.”

He shook with anticipation, body hot and humming. He felt her hands drag down his body as she lowered to her knees. When he opened his eyes, she was staring up at him, patient and obedient.

He had known this woman for six months, and she was easily the most challenging person he knew. To see her obey him without hesitation had his cock twitching. He was encouraged by her ease.

“Undo my belt. Then the trousers. Then pull everything down and take my cock out.”

She rubbed her thighs together. She had wanted Remus Lupin from the second she laid eyes on him. She ran her hands over his long legs, faking confidence when in fact her nerves were out of control. He was so handsome and composed. Truth be told, he intimidated the hell out of her. However, she knew if she let her anxieties show it would only worsen his nerves. She had to keep him calm and comfortable.

She undid his belt buckle and slowly worked down his zipper, holding eye contact with him. His jaw muscles clenched and unclenched repeatedly, an action that immediately made her nipples hard. She glanced down at the large bulge in his pants. She rubbed her face against it slowly. Merlin, he wore black boxer briefs. That alone had her on the verge of orgasming.

He threw his head back and groaned softly. She tugged his pants and boxers down. His cock sprang free, so hard it pointed directly at her face, straight as a rod.

“You’re very hard.”

“I’m a bit embarrassed by it.”

She chuckled. “Whatever for?”

“That is the erection of a teenage boy who has never seen a naked girl before. Not a grown man.”

“Well I’m very flattered by it.”

He gave her a smug grin, running his thumb along her chin.

“You’re much more submissive than I would have imagined.”

She hummed, eyes closing as she savored his finger on her skin.

“Well, I sense deep down you’re very dominant, Lupin. You just need the proper encouragement.”

That arrogant smirk again. “Oh, really?”

She nodded innocently, rubbing her lips against his thumb. She licked the pad of it.

“Yes, Professor.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

Her smile was fiendish. Fuck if she was ever this submissive for anyone. But this was Remus Lupin. She could bend her rules for him. She was getting a delicious thrill from it, truth be told.

She opened her mouth, running her tongue along the underside of his thumb as she sucked it into her mouth. She bobbed her head, doe eyes staring up at him. He looked like he could cry from happiness.

“That will be more than satisfactory, gorgeous girl.”

She released his thumb with a pop, grinning. He leaned back against her bookshelf, running his fingers through her thick hair. His cock twitched, a bead of precum leaking from the tip and falling to the floor.

“Like my hair, do you?”

“You’ve no fucking idea.”

She smiled, grazing his tip with a kitten lick.

“Oh…”

His hands were splayed out to the sides, knuckles turning white from how hard he was clenching the bookshelves. He threw his head back, resting against the books. His hips rocked gently into her mouth, fluid and languid. His legs were covered in scars, and he had two deep dimples on the flat front of his hips.

She pulled back, looking up at him. He rolled his head forward to look at her, cheeks stained a deep red. He was already panting.

“Put it in my mouth.”

His gaze darkened. With a deep exhale he took himself into his hand. He guided his cock into her waiting open mouth. She smiled around him, taking him to the back of her throat and bobbing her head.

He was a mess. His groans were unending, head thrown back, eyes shut, and teeth bared. Her spit dripped from his cock; she was making sure to soak him.

“Fuck, love. You’re too good at that…”

She cupped under his cock, rubbing him softly. He let out another groan.

“Keep doing that, dove. Fuck. Keep doing that.”

She chased her mouth with her free hand, squeezing him hard as she sucked. She pulled back, alternating between sucking and licking up the underside of him.

“Going to fill up that pretty mouth, princess.”

One large hand clenched the bookshelf, the other tangled in her hair. He thrusted to the back of her throat gently. She hummed in approval around him. He yelped at the sensation.

“Going to come. Fuck, love. I’m going to come.”

She sucked harder and faster, humming when he hit the back of her throat. His legs shook, knees locking as he threw his head back. His mouth opened, a loud moan sounding as he came. She sucked him through it until he swatted at her face with a shaking hand.

“Too much, love. It’s sensitive.”

She giggled, pushing his hand away and sucking him back into her mouth. He groaned, body twitching. He jumped out of her reach and covered himself. He laughed.

“Why are you such a little monster?”

She stood with a grin.

“You’re fun to rile, Remus Lupin.”

He laughed, breathless, running an unsteady hand through his hair.

“Is that so?”

With one fluid motion he bent down and picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. She squealed in surprise. He walked her to her bed, crawling into it with ease while still holding onto her. He laid her back and rested on top of her. She unbuttoned his dress shirt, pushing it down over his broad shoulders. She ran her hand down his scarred chest, playing with his chest hair. He was watching her intently, seemingly mesmerized by her hands on his skin.

“I’ve not kissed you yet, I just realized.” He said.

She peaked at him through her lashes.

“I was wondering when you were going to realize.”

She grabbed the back of his head, pulling his mouth against hers. He grunted. His mustache tickled the skin above her lip. She opened her mouth, meeting his tongue with her own. She moaned into his mouth. She sucked on his tongue, making him whimper. He pulled back, licking her lips as he did so.

“I’ll kiss you all night if you let me.” He whispered.

He moved his lips to her cheek, her jaw, her neck.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n. It’s terrifying.”

“Terrifying?!”

He kissed at her neck, nuzzling into it.

“I’m so scared of you. You’re so intimidating. I’m waiting to wake up and realize this was a fever dream.”

She covered her face, breaking into laughter. He cocked his head to look at her.

“What’s funny?”

“Remus, I’m terrified of you. I’m shaking in my boots over here. I’m hardly keeping it together.”

He grinned slowly. “What?”

“I’m trying to be smooth but truth be told I’m a nervous wreck.”

It was his turn to laugh. He buried his head in her shoulder.

“Jesus Christ. I thought it was just me. I almost threw up when you asked me to unclasp your dress.”

They laid in bed laughing. She covered her eyes with her arm.

“All right. We have to get it together now.”

He looked at her with mock seriousness.

“Quite right. The time for jokes has passed.”

“Think we can handle this?”

He looked down at their bodies as if searching for something.

“I think I remember where everything goes…”

She chuckled, kissing him quickly.

“Thank Merlin for that.”

He licked along her clavicle, pausing to kiss and nip at her shoulder. He slid his hand down her stomach, resting it between her legs. Her breath caught.

“Look how little you are, darling.”

He splayed his hand over her panties. It didn’t even fit between her legs; his fingers had to rest on the insides of her thighs. He cupped her roughly through the fabric, making her yelp.

“I’m going to wreck you, love.”

“Promise?”

He grinned evilly, sliding his fingers into her panties. He chuckled against her lips, swallowing her moan.

“I’ve not done a thing and you’re soaked. How pathetic, darling.”

He kissed down her body, pausing to kiss at her belly. He worked her panties down, rubbing at her thighs as he did so. He rested against her, placing her thighs on his shoulders.

“I dream about doing this every night.”

He immediately pushed his tongue inside of her and swirled it around. Her back arched and she let out a whine. He groaned against her.

“Taste so good, baby. Fuck, you’re perfect.”

He slid his hands to either side of her hips, locking his fingers with her own. She ground against his mouth. She had locked her legs around the back of his head, using it as leverage to push herself into his face. He sucked her clit into his mouth, toying with it with the tip of his tongue. He flattened his tongue against her, rubbing slowly. She could do nothing but whine.

“Feel good, love?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes, Remus.”

“Hmm…”

The vibrations from his humming made her jerk. He rubbed against her, groaning in delight as he sucked and licked her. He slid two long fingers inside of her, pushing past the resistance to press against her soft wall. She hissed through her teeth, grinding against him with fervor.

“Come on my face, sweetheart?”

“Oh fuck.”

He stiffened his tongue and flicked it against her clit. The pace of his fingers picked up, the sound of his thrusting wet and loud. She came with a cry, back arching and her grip on his fingers tightening.

He dropped her thighs from his shoulders, kissing along her skin as he crawled up her body. He sucked his middle finger into his mouth, cleaning it of her come. He went to do the same with his pointer finger and she stopped his hand.

“Don’t be greedy.” She rasped.

She took his finger and sucked it clean. He swore under his breath, working his finger in and out of her mouth.

“I can’t get enough of you, y/n.”

He leaned in and kissed her forcefully. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him even harder against her. She opened her legs and wrapped them around his waist.

“That’s not how I want you, darling. Want to hold you.”

He moved behind her and turned her on her side. She relaxed into her sheets, back pressed against his chest. He kissed the back of her neck. His hand slid over the curve of her hip, grasping her thigh to open her legs for him. His breath was hot against her ear.

“Going to make you mine, love. Thought about holding you like this for months.”

He guided himself inside of her, pushing until he was buried in her. She threw her head back with a moan, reaching behind herself to tangle her fingers in his hair. He wrapped his arms around her chest, holding her tight to him as he thrusted slowly. He moaned softly into her ear.

“So tight and small. You can barely take me. Feels so good.”

The hand at her hip dipped between her legs, rubbing at her clit softly. His other arm was snaked under her body, fingers rubbing and pinching her nipples. Her hips met his slowly. She bit into his forearm, whining with the rhythm of each thrust.

“Will you lie on your back for me, Remus?”

He squeezed her tightly.

“I will do anything you ask, princess.”

He shifted to his back, propping his head on her pillows. She straddled him. She lowered to kiss his chest.

“This is how I think about taking you.”

His hands ran up her thighs, squeezing her hips. She took him in her hand, working herself down on him. She winced. This position forced him much deeper.

“Careful, love. I can’t look Poppy in the eye and tell her I injured another staff member with my penis.”

She laughed, throwing her head back. Her thighs shook as she took him fully, biting her lip to stifle a whimper.

“Told you you couldn’t take it.”

He winked and he she chuckled.

“Poor little thing and her tiny, tight cunt. Can’t even handle me.”

Her responding grin was wicked. She flattened her hands on his chest and began rocking against him.

“Watch me fucking handle you, Remus Lupin.”

She grabbed the headboard. Supporting herself on her knees, she began riding him. He scrunched his face, groaning. His hands clenched her thighs, fingers digging in so hard the skin blanched.

“This what you wanted?” He panted.

She rested her forehead against his. “Yes.”

He kissed her messily, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth.

“Want you to make a mess of my cock.”

He swallowed her moan, pushing his tongue into her mouth. He sat up, leaning against the headboard. One hand clasped the metal of the headboard while the other cupped her ass. He rocked her forward, eyes focused between her legs. He watched himself fuck her, breathing picking up with every thrust.

“I could go mad from this.” He whispered, hips rocking into her slowly.

He ran his hand over her ass to grasp her hip. Leaning forward, he licked and sucked at her nipples lightly. He kissed between her breasts.

“Wanna come with you, sweetheart.”

She moaned, rolling her head forward. She dug her nails into his shoulders. He gripped the headboard as he began driving into her. She shouted, mouth dropping open as she looked at him. His stomach muscles were taut, his biceps quivering from the force he was exerting. Her eyes stung from the overstimulation.

She could feel him in her stomach. He was sweating like mad, shaking and panting and swearing.

“Look so gorgeous taking my cock, love. Such a good girl.”

She moved a hand between her legs to pinch and rub her clit. The coil in her stomach finally released as he pounded into her. Her body trembled violently against him, walls clenching around him hard enough to make him shout. Her mouth had opened in a silent scream, choked up whimpers escaping her as he kept up his pace.

“Fuck, Remus.” She whined.

“Stay with me, darling. Going to fill you up.”

She clenched her teeth, sweat running down her face as the force of her orgasm still assaulted her while his cock drove into her. He began moaning, the sound becoming louder and harsher until he came inside of her, legs shaking under her. His face was scrunched, teeth bared as he pushed into her. He slumped down, wiggling until he was lying flat. He was gasping, desperately trying to catch his breath. She kissed his sweaty forehead.

“Am I going to have to resuscitate you?”

He laughed, throat raw.

“I may have outdone myself. Hope you feel the same.”

She chuckled, giving him a lingering kiss. He raised a shaking hand to cup her cheek.

“So beautiful.”

He kissed her slowly, rubbing his tongue against hers.

“You were so good for me, darling. So wonderful. That was the best I’ve ever felt.”

She liked the feeling of his skin against hers. Hot and a little sticky from sweat. She rolled onto her back, pulling him on top of her. He gave her a small smile, tangling his fingers in her curls.

“Such a good girl.” He whispered against her lips.

She shivered against him. He smirked.

“Like that nickname, do you?”

She pulled him in for another kiss in response. He eventually nuzzled into her neck, letting his full weight rest on her. It felt surprisingly comforting. She ran her fingers through his hair, moving to run her nails along his back. It was his turn to shiver.

He was kissing her neck and throat, lips lingering at her hot skin.

“I already want you again, love.”

She grinned against his lips.

“Glad I’m not the only one.”

[charlieashwell]

F U T U R E R I T U A L  response

A commissioned response to F U T U R E R I T U A L (Arnolfini, Bristol, October 2018). Photo by Asher Fynn, of DAS GLAMOUR.

I cannot take the future, or ritual, for granted. A future ritual is something we do together and I definitely don’t agree with all of you. How to be together, then? How to remember what we came for?

In order to watch, to be there, receiving, thinking with, thinking about, F U T U R E R I T U A L - a series of performances, a series of series, a plural in the singular, a singular plurality, a thread, a plait - I’ll agree to disagree; to struggle, to writhe, to wiggle with my eyes and words, to embrace partiality, to allow the risk of cliché, the cliché of risk, to bounce off my burning body and onto yours.

The body burns because it’s embarrassing to watch performance, to perform audiencehood, to acquiesce to encounters you never sought out or imagined; to allow intimacy into square feet you would rather keep for yourself; a fragile, unsafe self. The mutual suspension of comfort for something else is perhaps the most precious ritual of all, though, so for now I agree to be thrown sideways into other people. Into other people’s futures. Into other people’s rituals. Let’s begin, I think. I stop thinking.

Kitty Fedorec has a suitcase of cassette tapes. She’s gothed-up, wig flying in our faces, daring us to diss or squirm or admire too lovingly, revealing our own fandoms, our own dominions. I lean forward. There are atlases on the floor. She stands on them. A string of dances, steady and studied.

She dances in defiance of something and I wonder whether every dance ever is in defiance of something. I think about my recent desire for only dances, no dancers. She speaks about mental health and feeling under constant threat. She speaks about the nation state being unwell. “The nation state wishes it was an eagle.”

She conducts a participatory war game with two audience members and I think about individual identity within and against national identity; the requirement to participate in nationhood, to “be a good sport”. I feel caught out; I’ve said ‘yes’ to this; to party politics; to paying taxes; to pressing send; to submission. Perhaps we can’t make art without making conversation with the parasites; the war machines. We’re already good sports for turning up, turning out, turning our love for possibility into social capital. To turn away is to taint the possibility of togetherness actually being pleasurable at some point in the future. I wonder whether the nation is always doomed to make war, whether the individual is always doomed to be a national treasure, whether outbreaks of violence are always synonymous with war and what would it be to violently break the state, our collective state of loneliness; the individual, the art institution, the dancer, the family, the monarchy, the dutiful subject, the artwork-as-commodity, the infinite misunderstandings of each other, into a billion shards? I wonder about this country. I wonder how to get rid of the billionaires. I wonder about sunken ships. And sunken desires for escape. How to raise them from the bottom of the sea?

I can’t remember how she ended up naked, but I do remember her singing with her band, which suddenly arose from the corner of the room, like solid ghosts. Gold leaf falls off her face. She’s only wearing a biker jacket, and a pair of Ray-Bans. I want to hang off her. Every word.

Joseph Morgan Schofield acts with and upon their body, calmly not-so-calmly piercing skin as if it was fabric. Not-so-calm because it requires me to be there, the witness, diluted in my witnessing, distracted, wanting rather to drape myself over the person next to me and breathe only in for a while, as Joseph takes care of breathing out. Or is it the other way around? Joseph does the breathing in, we do the breathing out. The tip of my tongue presses lightly into my front teeth and I suck the sides of this stupid, mute, always-active organ inwards, creating a rush of cold air between top and bottom jaw. “Thssshhhhhh.” Would I bite the bullet? Would I grab the needle? Would I feel pleasure? I feel only their body matters. I feel heroic for not running up and saving them and then I feel stupid and then I feel sad and then I feel brave and then I feel hot. We’ve all agreed to watch and learn. We consent to every moment because they’ve consented to the longest moment and all the moments and all the labour before and afterwards. The cleaning, the white flannel that turns red, the tentative, too-casual post-show discussions, the avoidances, the calm after the storm, the storm swirling above and around us as they tip hot wax onto their arm.

There’s a tension between action and impact, reaction and smooth, calm observation. Body as observant subservience. Malleable bloodstream. Tightening skin. Decisions made long ago coming back to serve us an enormous platter of fuck-the-present, hold-on-tight, simply-close-your-eyes-if-you-need-to feeling.

I’m starting to really want a tattoo.

DAS GLAMOUR are two but actually three people. I’m reminded of a Twitter meme about an imagined future with no men. Funny how fast a group of three becomes societal in scale. Perhaps I’ve re-internalised the compulsion to reproduce that haunted me for a while between 2014 and 2017. I can see them reproducing like spider plants - asexually - which isn’t to say they don’t have sex, but that sex is at last discontinuous with making babies - before and beyond my eyes and into a future beyond patriarchy, a world and word that feels so vintage already. Perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself. Perhaps you’re not ready to sign up to this spider future. In any case, I’m not entirely sure how we get from here to there without killing anyone - cookshops of the future, etc - so for now I’ll scale it down and focus on these three; this time.

It was 2018. It was autumn. I was wearing black. I was squatting, open-mouthed, with a group of other open mouths in a recently-defunded arts space to watch silently one of the most unapologetically constructivist, bish bash bosh, open-heartedly curious, in-love utopic, choreographic body-voice-drum-song works I’ve ever squatted open-mouthed in front of.

They yodelled. They stood on boxes. They stamped. Their voices were clear and calm and technical and guttural without the machismo of musicians and definitely none of the desperate, aspirational subjecthood of dancers. They just sang because singing is an animal faculty. They moved because moving is in them. Because singing and moving and drumming are pure vibration. Pure desire.

Are they the vision of a future with only dances, no dancers? Who is the artist here? Who is the muse? Who has been taught? Who did the teaching? Who downloaded the holy text and from where? Who is this serving if not everybody? Who are they if not the ghosts of a future ritual without the need for fixed meanings or labour-as-we-know-it or nations or property or anxiety, except the continuous consideration of which pleasure we’ll take next?

Is there violence in dragging ritual from its deep history and chucking it into the future? Or chucking the future upon it? Maybe. But then I’m not much of a pacifist. I like things that smash together. I like shards. I like to read futures from fragments. We’re all witches here, DAS GLAMOUR seem to say, and don’t care for our agreement or disagreement. Just that we’re here. And it’s not that special. Perhaps performance isn’t that special, just unusual.

How many times have you slipped through time into a dark room to watch silently the glitter, the reddening skin, the guitar strings, the erotic implications, the lighting rig, the other nervous witches? Let’s assume there is the potential to agree on a future. Or many intersecting futures, at least. You cannot produce your future separately from mine, or theirs, so don’t even try. 

DAS GLAMOUR sing, and their song stays with me:

“desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire”

[britishassistant]

Nana: Part 4

Johnny Powers belongs to Anthony Horowitz. I just made a version of him for the Nanbaka universe, which belongs to Futamata Shou. Warning for violence.

Somewhere in the outskirts of Tokyo, far from the island Nanba Prison was situated on, a group of Englishmen were celebrating.

They were a fairly large group, all crammed into the closest equivalent of a pub that could be found. Their rowdiness and threats towards anyone who happened to glance over for a moment too long had caused all but the most unperturbed and unnoticeable patrons to leave the establishment.

The manager ought to have kicked them out long ago, but all he was doing was standing in the back, giving orders to his staff to facilitate the group’s drinking and feasting, smiling so widely that all of his teeth were showing and his eyes were tearing up from the force of it. The wait staff and any of the chefs who had left the kitchen to see what was causing all the ruckus bore the same expression.

The high school girl who was the only Japanese member of the party seemed to have it carved into her face, as she giggled at a pitch similar to a scream and translated everything her English compatriots told her to, leaning into the arm of the boy who seemed to be at the center of it all.

For the seventh time that night, one of the men stood on his chair, his beer sloshing unsteadily in his glass. “A—a toasht!” He cried, “A toasht t’ the besht, sm-smartesht, and shtrongesht bosh of— of the whole bloody world! The firsht man to break outta—outta—whatever the hell that prishon was called!! To Johnny!”

All the other men in the room cheered and downed as much of their liquor as their mouths could hold, some of them overestimating their capabilities.

Johnny Powers gulped down his rum and coke, and smiled.

Everything had gone off smoothly in the end. Sure there had been a few hitches, but what could ya expect from a bunch of bozos who were better at scraping and cowering than thinking for themselves?

Still it was a little ridiculous that it took seven tries for them to find a suitable replacement. The kids they brought back were downright insulting— too much acne, too chubby cheeks, squinty eyes that were too close together, crooked teeth, big ears with detached lobes, the wrong jawline—honestly, he had an image.

If a kid arrived at Nanba who didn't at least somewhat resemble his own good looks, there was no way they would have been able to pull it off.

“Don't use that kinda language in front of my boy, Stevens.” Barked a stern looking middle-aged woman with a bruise on her right cheek and muscles to rival some of the most experienced fighters in the world.

“Sh-shorry Ma!” Stevens tried to make a conciliatory gesture, and fell off his chair, cracking his head and his glass on the table, much to the mirth of the room.

Johnny looked up at his Ma with adoration. Of course she’d be the one to sort this all out, even at her own expense. She was his Ma after all. “‘S your cheek alright Ma?”

“Never better Johnny. Can't even feel what that brat did to it anymore.”

“I’m glad.” The thirteen-year-old beamed happily. It was the same smile he’d give to bank guards asking where his parents were before unloading a clip of bullets into them. “I still think ya should’a let me repay him for that. I wouldn't have cut him up that much, honest.”

Ma Powers stroked her boy’s soft hair. “But we’d gone through all the trouble to find one that looked like ya, Johnny boy, we didn't have time to get another one after you got through with him. Besides, he’s paying for it already by taking your place, isn't he?”

“Suppose.” Johnny shrugged. The seventh replacement was the closest to his ideal looks, but only just. Kid had pissed him off by pretending to be brave and growling that he didn't know who Johnny was, but he was going to make Johnny regret this.

It was hilarious when seven started screaming as number six offed itself by slamming its head into the the boat’s wall over and over, legs scrabbling on the floor and body straining towards the imperfection against the guys holding him back, begging it to stop even after six’s lifeless body had slumped to the floor. Six’s death wasn't as entertaining as when five had chewed through his own wrists, but it got the job done.

The fear in seven’s eyes as he realized that Johnny had done that, and that would happen to him if he disobeyed the orders which embedded themselves into his very being was something that Johnny would treasure for a long time.

Nails Nathan, cheeks flushed from trying the Japanese rice wine he called “sake”, began giggling to himself as he nibbled on the stubs that served as his fingernails. “We did good by getting that one, didn't we Johnny? That one was almost a perfect match for ya?”

“Yeah, yeah, ya sap.” Johnny flapped an arm in his direction, wrapping the other around the arm candy he’d picked up back in the port after they’d successfully dropped off the seventh replacement. “How’d ya get that one, anyway?”

Nails puffed himself up. “Well, me and Ma was driving along this one road to get to the port where they was going to be shipping you off from Johnny, when all of a sudden I see this kid standing on the side of the road, thumb up like hitchhikers do, ya know?”

The fifteen year old tried to imitate the gesture, giggling uncontrollably when his hand wavered under the effects of all the alcohol he’d consumed.

Another gang member yelled “Get on with it!” as the others also settled in to hear the story, conversations dropping to a low lull.

“So, so I tell Ma to get into the back, and once Ma’s in the back, I pull up and ask the kid “hey, you wanna ride?” And now I’m close I can see the kid looks a lot like ya, Johnny, and the kid says “yeah, I need to get to town” and the accent is English, so it sounds a little like ya if, like, ya were making ya voice really high-pitched, right Ma?”

Ma Powers grunted. “A little.”

“So I tell the kid to hop on in, and when she does and closes the door, Ma slaps the chloroform over her face! Kid put up a fight, elbowing Ma in the face, kicking the windscreen and me before the drug finally kicks in, then the kid’s out like a light until we’re already on the boat and out to sea! Think I did a good job on shaving her long hair all short, kinda like yours, and giving her the tattoo, though she woke up during that part so I got worried that she would move too much and mess it up. But that kid really did look almost exactly like ya, didn't she?! Shows that y’are just as pretty as a girl, doesn't it Johnny?”

Everyone in the room had fallen quiet as all gazes pinned the storyteller and his primary spectator. Even Ma Powers and the perpetually grinning high school girl shifted away minutely.

Johnny had stopped smiling. “Nails.”

“Y-yes Johnny?” Nails, even in his drunken stupor, suddenly began to feel slightly uneasy.

“I think I must have heard wrong. Could ya correct me? ‘Cause I could’ve swore I heard you say that the kid you picked up to replace me in a male prison was a girl.”

The unfortunate teenager turned ashen. He gulped, fingers twitching.

“L-look J-Johnny, it-it was—th-that kid looked just like ya, yeah? A-and none of the o-other boys were-were good enough, so-so I figured that-that anyone wo-would do, and—pl-please Johnny, I-I’m sorry, God, pl—”

“Nails.” Johnny ordered, his Conquerer’s Voice taking advantage of the squirming adolescent’s fear to impress his orders into the boy’s being, so even his own mind could not prevent his body from carrying them out. “Go break every bone in your fucking hands for ever thinking that it was a good idea to send a girl in drag into a men’s prison as MY replacement, You MORONIC RETARD!!!”

Nails Nathan stood up, tears streaming down his spotty cheeks. He walked to the bar at the back of the restaurant, pushing past a server who half-heartedly tried to stop him from going behind the bar. There was a steel door that had been left open for the servers to come and go from the kitchen.

Nails Nathan placed his hand in the frame, and slammed the steel door on it as hard as he could.

His scream could be heard from the street outside. He moved his hand up, and did it again. And again. And again. Until every last bone in his hand had broken and his throat was nearly hoarse from screaming.

Then he started again on the other one.

The gang kept their heads down, trying to avoid flinching at every sickening crack and screech. The wait staff’s expression never dropped from the smiling rictus they’d been ordered into, though several of them had tears streaming down their cheeks as they mechanically continued to serve. The high school girl was unable to even do that, as she had been ordered not to a day or so after she was kidnapped from her home on the coast by the boy next to her.

The boy himself was breathing heavily, almost hyperventilating in rage. His fists shook and his eyes were wild like a mad dog’s as he muttered a never-ending litany to himself in a high-pitched voice. “Need to find another, truth will be out too soon, need to get out of here, cover will be blown, need to get an eighth—”

“Easy Johnny boy, breathe.” Ma soothed. “Even if Nails did something stupid, its alright—”

“HOW!?! HOW IS IT ALRIGHT MA?!” The voice that escaped the gang leader’s throat was like that of a hysterical child preparing to throw the biggest tantrum in the history of tantrums.

“—because if it wasn't alright, we wouldn't have made it this far away, would we?” Ma continued, unperturbed at the tone her son was taking with her. “It’s been two weeks, Johnny. If anyone was gonna find out about the replacement, they woulda done it in the first few days. That we’ve lasted this long without that means the kid’s following ya orders. She knows she’ll die the moment someone finds out, so she must be doin’ a really good job hidin’ it.”

Slowly, Johnny’s breathing calmed. His hands relaxed from their clenched fists. “…Ya’re right. Ya’re right, Ma. They woulda…it’s still safe. Can't defy my voice. No one can defy my voice. Still, I wanna get home to London quick-like, just in case she cracks in the next few days.”

“That’s fine, Johnny. That’s just fine.” Ma soothed, stroking his hair. “We’ll drop the slag off at a waste disposal and catch a plane first thing in the morning, ok? An’ I’ll make ya favorite moussaka when we get home.”

“Hot and bubbling with cheese melted on top?” For the first time since coming to Japan, Johnny sounded like a hopeful and excited, like a boy his age should, instead of like he was an old man who enjoyed the pain and suffering he caused wearing a young child’s face.

Ma Powers smiled. “Just the way ya like it.”

Johnny relaxed, and chatter started up among the gang again as they sensed the danger had passed.

Nails stood up from where he’d been curled in a fetal position behind the bar and hobbled back over to his leader. His hands were bruised black and blue, with several of his fingernail stubs bleeding. “J-j-Johnny, I-I’m sorry, I—”

“Ah, stop blubbering, ya great baby. It doesn't hurt that much.” Johnny ordered. “Water under the bridge and all that.”

Nails’ pinched expression loosened as the aching in his hands vanished. “Y-yeah. W-well, something like that won't happen ever again, Johnny, I-I promise.”

“Good.” Johnny stretched out, wrapping an arm around the high school girl and taking no notice of how she had been trembling ever since Ma had mention getting rid of her in the waste disposal. “Now ya lugs better enjoy yaselves while ya can, cause tomorrow we fly for home.”

“Yes boss!” The men cheered, and the party resumed in full swing.

Nobody, not Johnny, not his Ma, not his gang, not the high school girl, not the wait staff, noticed as a salaryman got up, paid his bill, and quietly left.

Walking home in the cool night air, the man turned over what he had learned in his mind.

A famous English criminal at large in Japan! One who was brutally violent and had mysterious abilities to compel others to obey him! Who escaped from the inescapable Nanba Prison no less!

The reporter smiled to himself.

He never expected that he’d get the story of a lifetime when he went to get dinner tonight.

[tattoosbyjj]

Boshed some swallows on @gazk79 today! He loved it, but he didn’t Like it! Tattooed using EGO SWITCH tattoo machine, EZ and Killer Ink Cartridges , Hustle Butter Deluxe, Eternal Ink, Electrum , Killer Ink Supples #tattoos #tattooed (at Awake.Arise) https://www.instagram.com/p/CdD-_q_MG3I/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[nzdhserhe]

They know how to turn it on

Nairo intercedió gotcha karkötőpor él. Pero realmente fue una prueba contrarreloj que organizó el equipo con sus ciclistas, en donde Róbinson les ganó a todos. Ahí estaban los

duci alkalmi ruha

élite, como Cayetano Sarmiento y Wilson Rodríguez. ''I thought it was over,'' Bosh said in an interview dupla bejárati ajtó ára with The Associated Press. ''I didn't want to fully emotionally invest myself anymore because I didn't want to get hurt like last year when we lost the finals. I kind of had a letdown. That's what makes them who they are. They know how to turn it on. We did a good job of holding their runs to a minimum.''. El PAN, al proponer la alianza, jam consider que pudiera ser encabezada por un perredista y se insisti en la ex candidata presidencial, sin considerar que sus contrincantes ten ya mucho trabajo territorial y eran oriundos de verdad. De los cuatro principales candidatos, tanto Alfredo Del Mazo, Delfina G y Usted hab sido por lo menos presidentes municipales en su estado, s la panista no ten antecedente electoral en la plaza. En descargo, la dirigencia nacional albiazul tiene el argumento de que era, en todas sus mediciones, su mejor carta.. Sino ganaban el partido era para matarlos. En cuanto que llegaran a final de coferencia, no te lo crees ni tu, ni de cuartos pasan. No lo digo por este partido. El alero de los Celtics era tajante en su negativa. "Los Juegos Olímpicos son para gente joven. Me Mens ADIDAS ORIGINALS sentaría muy mal quitarle esa posibilidad a un muchacho. Maybe the tattoo has outlived its usefulness as a motivational tactic; if a player can't get pumped up answear sandale copiito win the NBA Finals without the help of a tattoo, then there is probably some other problem with their approach to their profession. Still, there's something a little fishy about Terry's decision to chalk up this decision to his superstitious nature. Sometimes, a guy just doesn't want to be the subject of

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ridicule

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for the rest of his career.. Vale que Calde nunca ha sido una superestrella NBA, pero no hace tanto estuvo apunto de contar para el All Star y ten buenos promedios en tiro/ asistencias/ Minutos jugados, rondando el doble doble, siendo uno de los bases m completos de la NBA, ahora da un poco pena verle. Llevo esperando su reacci m de un a pero parece que no, que lo de Calde es declive y no hay m perro que ladre, no pierdo la esperanza, peeero . Y bastante menos de lo que se le deber de exigir respecto a su salario. Stephen Curry logró cazadora vaquera tommy hilfiger 25 puntos y llevó a los Warriors a certificar la mejor marca en la Conferencia Oeste al vencer 95 108 a los Bucks. Los Warriors (60 13) sumaron nueve triunfos consecutivos e impusieron marca de franquicia con su victoria número 60 en lo que va de temporada. El equipo de Golden State tiene ventaja de 10 partidos sobre los Grizzlies cuando restan nueve partidos de temporada regular. But those guys are going to get theirs regardless; what's more interesting to me is how Bosh could affect the series. He averaged 15.5 points per game in a complimentary role in the four Heat Pacers games this season, but in all of them, he lined up at the four alongside Joel Anthony. Last year's shot blocking and rebounding revelation has since been relegated to a reserve role, though, sliding Bosh to the pivot for large chunks of time.. Hernandez claims that, despite being rated highly air jordan aj4 in evaluations, he has been passed over to work the World Series. According to Pilcher, Hernandez hasn't worked a World Series since 2005.NBCS Bay AreaNBA champ McCaw throws out first pitch in St. Louis, requests contractKevin Durant is prepared to remove any lingering doubt about his selflessness, about his motives for joining the Warriors, about his competitive priorities. G U T I E R R E Z B U S T A M A N T E M I G U E L 5 3 . G U Z M A N D E O S E S K A R E N A R A C E L Y 5 4 . G U Z M A N D E O S E S V E L I A M 5 5 . Buss se reafirmó en que, en estos momentos, no había un puesto en las oficinas de los Lakers que colmara las aspiraciones de Jackson y para el que pudiera aplicar todos sus conocimientos sobre el baloncesto. "l es una gran mente del baloncesto como para estar sentado en el porche de casa jugando al solitario", afirmó la hija del mítico Jerry Buss. "Quería que consiguiera algo que le llenase. And on Twitter, manages to routinely turn one of the league most boring and frustrating watches into an intriguing follow. The Pistons scribe, through his work with the paper and on Twitter, manages to answear sandale copii routinely turn one of the league's most boring and frustrating watches into an intriguing follow. The Pistons have been an NBA non entity for the last 3 1/2 years, so Vincent has to go to some pretty great lengths in order to keep his readers entertained.. Eso son sólo números. Esto es mi corazón. Y eso no lo puedes medir".. Chris Kaman has played just 12 minutes in the last month with the Los Angeles Lakers, and those were only mop up minutes performed in extended garbage time in a Laker loss to the Oklahoma City Thunder last week. The journeyman center and 2010 All Star was expected to be a solid contributor for a Laker team desperate for early season offensive punch with Kobe Bryant out, but instead the three time starter has been yanked from the rotation, in spite of providing solid, Kaman esque per minute output. Kaman, to his credit, is keeping his chin up. Partiendo de ahí!!! Calderón que juege con los "buenos", a los que puede asistir y hacer mejor. No se si me explico!! Que no quiere decir q Calderón por ser titular sea mejor ehh!, pero su juego es más para aprovexar con DeRozan o Bargnani en cancha. Creo que Calderon esta mejor que Jack para repartir juego y asistir.

[tkmedia]

The biggest ‘bad losers’ of the summer: Boca, Mourinho, France…

The summer of 2021 has been a veritable feast of footballing bitterness, from Marcos Rojo going full ‘American Chopper meme’ to French fans burying their heads in the sand.You know the feeling: you’re on the wrong end of a marginal offside call, and the next minute you’re being teargassed after throwing a soundsystem at the referee. But that’s football, a game of glorious winners and bad losers, in which the smallest perceived injustice can have you writing to your MP, kicking your opponent’s ankles or brandishing a fire extinguisher like a club. Here are the most ungracious football losers of the summer… 1. Marcos Rojo & Boca Juniors Weird season for Marcos Rojo. The defender spent the whole of the autumn in Manchester United exile, twiddling his thumbs along with Sergio Romero. Then in January, possibly craving a bit of recognition, he got a fucking massive tattoo of the late Diego Maradona (smoking a cigar, in Fidel Castro garb, obviously), which Phil Jones would never have done. A month later, Rojo was following in Maradona’s footsteps and signing for Boca Juniors, and by May he had won the inaugural ‘Diego Armando Maradona Cup’ with them. But it looks like the defining image of Rojo’s year won’t be cup glory or even that fucking massive Maradona tattoo; it’ll be him wielding a fire extinguisher with the intention (unconfirmed) of boshing the heads of some match officials. 😅 Only Marcos Rojo would pick up a fire extinguisher in tunnel brawl!pic.twitter.com/ywH0Af8jlv — The Sportsman (@TheSportsman) July 21, 2021 In fact, most of the Boca team were involved in a wild bust-up following their penalty shootout defeat to Atletico Mineiro in the Copa Libertadores on Tuesday night, having earlier had a goal ruled out for offside. Police had to use tear gas, and multiple players were arrested. You’d have to say that, in most circumstances, throwing punches, chucking bits of fencing and arming yourself with a fire extinguisher is not the most gracious way of accepting defeat, even if the VAR took around 10 minutes to come to a decision. Funnily enough, although the Copa Libertadores has been mired in refereeing controversy, Boca’s disallowed goal does look offside. Marginal, but hardly evidence of an anti-Boca conspiracy. Offside is why the #Boca goal was disallowed. It’s becoming ridiculous now isn’t it #Libertadores pic.twitter.com/TQ5P9mMPTo — Callum Williams (@CalWilliamsComm) July 21, 2021 2. France What did you do after ‘Magic Monday’, June 28, 2021, the greatest ever day of European Championship football? We had just witnessed two stunning matches: Spain beating Croatia after 120 minutes and eight goals, and underdogs Switzerland overcoming France — many people’s tournament favourites — on penalties. More than 250,000 boring French fans followed that high drama by signing a petition calling for France-Switzerland to be replayed. Why? Because Yann Sommer, Switzerland’s heroic goalkeeper, was supposedly off his line (he was not) when saving Kylian Mbappe’s spot-kick. “We request the cancellation of the qualification of Switzerland and therefore to replay the match,” the petition stated. “Sport must be played within the rules and that evening the rules were not respected.” 3. Jose Mourinho Mourinho is a petty winner and a sore loser, and this summer he responded to his inevitable Spurs sacking with typical biliousness. It seems his biggest gripe is how Tottenham denied him the chance to take charge of the League Cup final, which he thinks he could have won. “If you want to be proactive you can ask me how many trophies I have won in my career — 25 and a half,” he told The Sun. Boo! Get over it! 4. Harry Wilson Look, we all enjoyed the Battle of the Bridge —partly because it helped Leicester’s fairytale title win, partly because it’s fun to see Chelsea and Spurs players kicking each other on live TV. On that magical night, the frustration of a missed opportunity got the better of Tottenham, who resorted to violence as a way to mitigate their heartbreak. It wasn’t big or clever, but it was great viewing for neutrals. Harry Wilson clearly doesn’t understand why the Battle of the Bridge was so good. With Wales trailing 3-0 and heading out of the Euros in the Round of 16, the midfielder did his best Eric Dier impression, scything down loveable Joakim Maehle of loveable Denmark and getting himself sent off (for sheer spitefulness as much as anything else). There’s going out fighting, and then there’s going out like a knobhead.

READ: A forensic analysis of the Battle of the Bridge: ‘The most shameful game’ 5. Gareth Bale And then there’s going out like a ninja, just plain old slipping out of the frame without a word. He was emotional. He was frustrated. He was otherwise fairly dignified. But Gareth Bale’s interview bail wasn’t the coolest way to bow out of Euro 2020. 6. Thomas Tuchel Most people have recognised Youri Tielemans’ goal against Chelsea as one of the greatest ever seen in an FA Cup final. Leicester manager Brendan Rodgers called it an “old school FA Cup-winning goal”, while Tielemans himself said it was the best strike of his career. Thomas Tuchel was less arsed about it. “In the second half we controlled the match even higher, and we conceded a goal out of nothing,” he said. “A fantastic goal, but a lucky goal of course.” Of course. 7. The English There were infinite reasons to feel sad about the Euro 2020 final. Unfortunately, truth be told, there weren’t many reasons to feel indignant. The best that disgruntled England fans could come up with was that Giorgio Chiellini deserved a red card for his cynical (and now iconic) shirt pull on Bukayo Saka. A few reasons were given as justification, including: As if that wasn’t bad enough, nearly 150,000 England fans — fewer than the French, thank God — signed a petition to replay the final with a “non-biased referee”. Bizarrely, the petition organiser has also started a fundraiser “to try and buy our own trophy for the England Team to show them how proud we are of them and how much we love them”. £39.50 of its £500 goal, in case you were wondering. By Benedict O’Neill More from Planet Football A forensic analysis of the Battle of the Bridge: ‘The most shameful game’ The Joy Of…21-man brawls: Featuring Arsenal, Man Utd, Chelsea and more The making of O Fenomeno in Brazil: ‘It was as if he had come from the moon’ Can you name the Team GB men’s XI from their 2012 Olympic opener? Read the full article

[savetopnow]

2018-03-30 00 CELEBRITY now

CELEBRITY

E!

Sarah Jessica Parker Endorses Cynthia Nixon for New York Governor: "You Have My Love, Support and Vote"

Scandal Cast Says Goodbye in Emotional Retrospective

Why Kendra Wilkinson and Hank Baskett's Marriage Is Irreparably Broken

Your Ultimate Spring Break Packing List

Below Deck Med Season 3 Trailer Promises Fires, Boatmances and Fan-Favorites' Exits

Hollywood Life

Stephon Clark’s Grief-Stricken Brother Goes Off On Don Lemon During Live Interview

Tobias Menzies: 5 Things To Know About ‘The Crown’s New Prince Philip

Every Single Hair Color Kylie Jenner Has Worn: From Platinum To Pink, Black To Baby Blue

Chloe Green & Jeremy Meeks: Is This Evidence They’re Having A Baby Boy?

Rapper Fabolous Arrested After Allegedly Attacking ‘L&HH’ GF & Baby Mama Emily B — Report

Media Take Out

Desiigner Caught Taking A PIZZ On Someone’s House!! (PICS)

Comedian Sinbad Appears To Be SNITCHING On Russell Simmons . . . Says ‘MORE WOMEN’ Are Gonna Come Out With RAPE Claims!!!

Shirley Strawberry From Teh STEVE HARVEY RADIO SHOW . . . Is Being Sued . . . For Being a ‘DEADBEAT’!!

People

Amal Clooney Joins Legal Battle to Free Two Jailed Journalists in Myanmar

Roseanne Barr Says President Trump Called and Congratulated Her on Revival's Premiere Ratings

Nebraska Woman, 24, Shares Emotional Story of Her Miscarriage to Show It's Okay to Talk About It

Brandi Glanville Explains That Her Upper Lip Is Paralyzed Because of a Laser Hair Removal Burn

Justin Theroux Spotted with Aubrey Plaza in N.Y.C. After Split from Jennifer Aniston

Perez Hilton

Kylie Jenner & Travis Scott Are 'In A Very Good Place' Following Little Stormi's Birth!

Kate Nash Performs Life In Pink LIVE!

Brielle Biermann Seemingly Reignites #Roachgate Feud With NeNe Leakes After The Recent Twitter Shade!

Laura Ingraham Mocks Parkland School Shooting Survivor Over College Rejections — But He Gets The BEST Revenge!

Fabolous Arrested For Domestic Violence After Allegedly Hitting His Girlfriend!

Popsugar

23 Pictures of the Royals Laughing That Will Make You Spit Out Your Tea

Did a Teenager Try to Assassinate the Queen? Get the Bone-Chilling Details

Dancing With the Stars Pros Emma Slater and Sasha Farber Tie the Knot!

19 Hot Photos of Grown-ish's Luca That Prove He's a Walking Work of Art

Shirtless Ben Affleck Puts His MASSIVE Phoenix Tattoo on Display — Is He a Harry Potter Fan?

Reddit Entertainment

Will Ferrell says he can 'no longer, in good conscience' use Facebook

SyFy's "Ghost Wars" has been canceled.

Roseanne’: Revival’s Huge Numbers Attract Global Interest But Buyers Face Complicated Rights Situation

Details Have Been Leaked About 'John Wick 3' Ahead Of Filming Next Month

"Dawson’s Creek" cast reunites after 20 years for Entertainment Weekly cover

TMZ

Richard Sherman Reunites with Legion of Boom at His Badass Beach Wedding!

Chris Bosh: Sorry, LeBron ... James Harden's NBA MVP!

David Hogg Calls for Laura Ingraham Boycott After Cyberbullying

Jared Fogle's Appeal to President Trump for Prison Release Swiftly Rejected

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The Shade Room

#TSRPositiveImages: David Otunga Helps His Niece Who Was Battling Congestive Heart Failure Get A Heart Transplant

Teen Who Went Viral During Ferguson Rally, Reported Missing After His Family Dies In Car Crash

Fabolous Arrested For Alleged Domestic Violence Against Emily B.

Photos Surface Of Chris Brown Grabbing A Woman’s Neck, Both Parties Say It Was In Jest

Travis Scott Is Reportedly Being Sued For Concert No-Show

Us Weekly

‘Dawson’s Creek’ Boss: Joey and Pacey Would Be Divorced Today

The Floral Beauty Products You Need This Spring

Family’s SUV Plunges Off Cliff, Troubling Details Emerge

Celebrity Babies of 2018

Meet The Crown’s New Prince Philip

[boshh]

Sorry parents. You have to love me because I’m your only son. Bosh. Done by @graceneutral at @oldhabitstattoo (at Old Habits Tattoo)

#headtattoo #stickandpoke #geometry

[mysterytribune]

Harry Bosch's Titus Welliver Tattoos: A Complete Guide

Harry Bosch’s Titus Welliver Tattoos: A Complete Guide

Titus Welliver, the lead actor portraying “Harry Bosch” in the Amazon Prime TV series Bosch is no stranger to ink and has quite many tattoos.

In this guide, we will provide an overview of the fictional character’s tattoos, how Titus Welliver got his first tattoo, and how ink has played a role in his life as an actor and the TV series.

Does the fictional character Harry Bosh have any tattoo? 

Yes…

[tattoosbyjj]

Boshed a hand banger on (@_vieux_rose_ ) her too! Tattooed using EGO SWITCH tattoo machine, EZ and Killer Ink Cartridges , Hustle Butter Deluxe, Eternal Ink, Electrum , Killer Ink Supples #tattoo #tattoos #tattooed (at Awake.Arise) https://www.instagram.com/p/CbAyQ3mgdco/?utm_medium=tumblr

[martechadvisor-blog]

Yelp Launches New Feature Called Questions and Answers

Yelp, a multinational corporation headquartered in San Francisco, has announced that it is going to launch a new feature to its platform called Questions and Answers which will be simple and self-explanatory.

This new feature is completely different from their previous feature Talk. With Talk, users could ask a variety of questions involving their community. But in the case of this new feature, users will be provided with questions and answers which focus on specific issues.

In a news release, this feature from Yelp has been described as, “This is distinct from Talk, a feature where Yelp users can ask an incredibly broad range of questions. Instead, these are questions and answers tied to a specific venue, a focus that could make this stand out from other Q&A products. For example, you could ask how long visitors normally stay at the Kennedy Space Center or if a bar allows dogs or about pricing at a tattoo parlor, then get answers from other users, or from the business owner themselves.”

The Consumer Product Manager at Yelp, Brian Boshes, deemed this feature as a “great, Yelp-y content” which can assist people in finding the right information which is important and relevant to them. He also suggested that this could be an effective way for someone who is a regular follower of a particular business to stay in constant touch with it through this feature from Yelp. On one hand, where users can post reviews, they can also answer several questions. Boshes also added that this tool will offer critical data to Yelp about what users are actually looking for.

Based on the relevance and appropriateness of the answers, users can either downvote them or upvote them. Moreover, they will also have the option of signing up for notifications when a particular question has been answered.

A limited feature of this new app was run by Yelp the previous year. Presently, the feature has been released on desktop, Android, and iPhone. The Q&A section will appear in the review section of all the Yelp profiles. The company was founded in 2004 and deals in hosting, developing, and marketing reviews sourced from the crowd about businesses through its website and mobile app.

This article was first appeared on MarTech Advisor