#oh my gawds the tent scene

[sufferingsokkatash]

Natla Season 3 Zukka Specific Marketing Team (because we all know you mfs exist) : we need Boiling Rock to hit hard with that same s1 zukka promo energy

[r-yui]

FFXVI Spoliers | Analysis of Terence's personality

because this character has very little screen time but he’s one of the few persons that Dion cares and loves.

This is all based on ENG dub though.

Tent scene: Terence brings a report to Dion. When Dion looks very worried about his father and is about to ask Terence, he was quick to answer before Dion even finished asking. Actually, this is the scene that makes me start to think that these two have something going on, either close friends or childhood friends or more than that. I mean Terence dared to speak before the prince finished his line lol. It shows that even as a lover, Terence surely respects Dion as his prince. He draws the line, but that line may not be clear cut. If Dion needs support from his lover not his subordinate, Terence can cross that line for him.

Kiss Scene: You can see that Terence reaches out his hand to touch Dion's waist very smoothly like he knows since forever that’s his place to grab oh gawd. But when the kiss’s over, he clings to Dion’s waist and refuses to let go until Dion pulls Terence's hand out himself. From this scene, Terence clearly (and somewhat outright intensely) wants to show his love, and does not want to lose Dion. He might be the one who gets jealous easily.

Scene after meeting Joshua: Dion asks Terence if he believes in him. Terence was about to say "I.." (about to tell his feelings), but closed his eyes and again replied, "We Dragoons...", confirming that Terence had somewhat made the line between love and duty so blurry.

Farewell scene:

(1) Dion - When talking about a medicine girl, Dion didn't even meet Terence’s eyes and kept talking over the shoulder with him, until Terence had to pull his shoulders so Dion could face him directly. It shows that Dion may not be good at expressing his personal/romantic feelings (including making facial expressions/trying not to show weakness which apparently showed when he  held back his tears), but when Terence left, It’s Dion who turned and looked at Terence’s back longingly.

(2) Terence - oh my how cute it is he's taller than Dion even though he bent his knees. Terence pulled Dion's shoulder to talk to him directly, stripped of the prince-container rank thingy and called Dion by name, and cried. He no longer hides his feelings. At this time, Terence was desperate to not leave Dion and he might have known that Dion wanted to break up with him. Still,  Terence never disobeys Dion's orders and Dion knew this. His act of pushing Dion and walking away without turning back doesn't mean he stops loving Dion, but it shows that he is very straightforward and determined to follow his prince’s orders though it damn hurts.

Sometimes I think that even though Dion isn't dead (Please don't die, please have Dion episode in the DLC.) Both of them may not still get back together. Dion must have been overwhelmed by his own guilt, probably thinking that he didn't deserve love from anyone (seriously, nobody blames you. Your dragoon troops are loyal to you. The people didn't blame you. Your cute husband still loves you. The whole guilt is stuck in your edgy dragoon brain).

[vivithefolle]

Hi,

I was reading one of the metas about Dumbledore saying in The King's Cross chapters that he relied on Hermione to slow Harry down regarding the Deathly Hallows, and I can't help but agree that Ron was missing in the line. It should have been relied on Hermione and Ron to slow Harry down, because I have a feeling that Hermione can't fully rein Harry in, and she would need Ron's help to do so. I would like your thoughts on this.

OH MAH GAWD AS USUAL I HAVE OPINIONS ON THIS.

Honestly the whole "oh Harry you brave brave man" was already pretty annoying to me who is completely frigid to Harry's character but okay, why not, he's the hero and protagonist, we absolutely need him to be flooded in compliments so we know what to praise him for.

But then.

But then.

Of course JKR couldn't resist having her actual author's mouthpiece compliment her literal self-insert. When you realize this is JKR throwing herself flowers you just... lose any appreciation for that scene.

Dumbledore patted Harry’s hand, and Harry looked up at the old man and smiled; he could not help himself. How could he remain angry with Dumbledore now? ‘Why did you have to make it so difficult?’ Dumbledore’s smile was tremulous. ‘I am afraid I counted on Miss Granger to slow you up, Harry. I was afraid that your hot head might dominate your good heart. I was scared that, if presented outright with the facts about those tempting objects, you might seize the Hallows as I did, at the wrong time, for the wrong reasons. If you laid hands on them, I wanted you to possess them safely. You are the true master of death, because the true master does not seek to run away from Death. He accepts that he must die, and understands that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying.’ - Deathly Hallows

(also notice how Rowling makes such a big deal about how there are things so much worse than death, but she's ok with Harry torturing someone while going through ridiculous loops to ensure Harry never has to actually kill Voldemort. Because killing a murderous maniac in self-defense is worse than literal torture according to Rowling. Thanks for this lesson in morality... I guess???)

Ok, so Hermione was supposed to slow Harry down, ok why not...

...

Except... that's absolutely not what happened.

Remember what happened instead?

‘Dumbledore usually let me find out stuff for myself. He let me try my strength, take risks. This feels like the kind of thing he’d do.’ ‘Harry, this isn’t a game, this isn’t practice! This is the real thing, and Dumbledore left you very clear instructions: find and destroy the Horcruxes! That symbol doesn’t mean anything, forget the Deathly Hallows, we can’t afford to get sidetracked –’ Harry was barely listening to her. He was turning the Snitch over and over in his hands, half expecting it to break open, to reveal the Resurrection Stone, to prove to Hermione that he was right, that the Deathly Hallows were real. [...] They packed up the tent next morning and moved on through a dreary shower of rain. The downpour pursued them to the coast, where they pitched the tent that night, and persisted through the whole week, through sodden landscapes which Harry found bleak and depressing. He could think only of the Deathly Hallows. It was as though a flame had been lit inside him that nothing, not Hermione’s flat disbelief nor Ron’s persistent doubts, could extinguish. And yet the fiercer the longing for the Hallows burned inside him, the less joyful it made him. He blamed Ron and Hermione: their determined indifference was as bad as the relentless rain for dampening his spirits, but neither could erode his certainty, which remained absolute. Harry’s belief in and longing for the Hallows consumed him so much that he felt quite isolated from the other two and their obsession with the Horcruxes. [...] As the weeks crept on, Harry could not help but notice, even through his new self-absorption, that Ron seemed to be taking charge. Perhaps because he was determined to make up for having walked out on them: perhaps because Harry’s descent into listlessness galvanised his dormant leadership qualities, Ron was the one now encouraging and exhorting the other two into action. [...] But not until March did luck favour Ron at last. Harry was sitting in the tent entrance, on guard duty, staring idly at a clump of grape hyacinths that had forced their way through the chilly ground, when Ron shouted excitedly from inside the tent. [...] Harry could feel Ron shaking. [...] ‘HERMIONE!’ Ron bellowed, and he started to writhe and struggle against the ropes tying them together, so that Harry staggered. ‘HERMIONE!’ [...] ‘Dobby, no, don’t die, don’t die –’ The elf’s eyes found him, and his lips trembled with the effort to form words. ‘Harry … Potter …’ And then with a little shudder the elf became quite still, and his eyes were nothing more than great, glassy orbs sprinkled with light from the stars they could not see. [...] ‘I want to do it properly,’ were the first words which Harry was fully conscious of speaking. ‘Not by magic. Have you got a spade?’ And shortly afterwards he had set to work, alone, digging the grave in the place that Bill had shown him at the end of the garden, between bushes. He dug with a kind of fury, relishing the manual work, glorying in the non-magic of it, for every drop of his sweat and every blister felt like a gift to the elf who had saved their lives. [...] The steady rhythm of his arms beat time with his thoughts. Hallows… Horcruxes… Hallows… Horcruxes… yet he no longer burned with that weird, obsessive longing. Loss and fear had snuffed it out: he felt as though he had been slapped awake again. - Deathly Hallows

Yeah... it wasn't Hermione's saintly good heart and patience that got Harry to stop being an idiot. It was Dobby.

More specifically, Dobby dying.

If every time I was obsessed with something it took someone dying to snap out of it I'd have the police on my ass.

But, of course - we ABSOLUTELY had to wedge one compliment to Hermione in Dumbledore's last appearance. I mean, poor Hermione, that's a whole chapter without her being told she's clever/smart/astute, can you imagine? Our readers could forget she's supposed to be smart if they're not constantly being beaten over the head with it!!

[tabithacarlisle]

*OFF THE RECORD Pairing: Maxwell x Tabitha (TRR MC) | (Liam x Tabitha & Drake x Liam are mentioned)

Word Count: 4392 (pour yourself a drink and settle in ;)

Warnings: 18+ NS*W, 🍋, marital angst, smut, extramarital affairs, pregnancy, swearing

bonus warning: this is my first fic in a long, long time! It’s probably super messy, but this story has been bouncing around in my head ever since I first read TRR Book 3’s Vegas Fling with Maxwell & it blew my mind!! ;) Glad to finally put it out there in print. 

*OFF THE RECORD PREQUEL  <<< click here!*

*Author’s Note: any time you see text underlined, it’s a link to screenshots from Pixelberry’s Choices TRR scenes, or other chapters referenced from *OTR- click them!! :) Notes: Pixelberry Studios owns these characters, not me! I just have fun playing with them :) Also a short snippet of dialogue quoted from Choices TRR 3 Chapter 16 “What Happens in Vegas...” is used as a flashback. This chapter takes place about 4 months after the Royal Wedding in TRR Book 3 Off The Record (OTR)by Jo (“@tabithacarlisle” :) Maxwell got the Caller ID notification on his iWatch:

‘Tabitha 👑🌸’.

He answered it right away on his cell,“Hey, ‘Your Majesty!’ Glad you called! I was just thinking about calling you, actually, I—“

(Crying, she cut him off) “Oh Maxwell...”::sob:: “Hey-heyhey hey, shhhhh, it’s ok. It’s ok! What’s going on- what happened?”

“I had to reschedule my sonogram appointment that was supposed to be for tomorrow. Bastien called. He said Liam’s one-on-one meetings at the Davos Summit are running late, and he’ll need to stay out there for another week. But, Liam wants us to find out the baby’s sex together, so I’ll just... have to keep waiting! Again! Oh my fucking gawd, Max! He’s always in ‘meetings!’ He’s always gone! I was just looking forward to us sharing that moment together to see our new baby, so much. How could Liam put off such an important milestone for his first child? It’s not fair. No— I shouldn’t say that. I mean,I know —He warned me what I was getting into when I married him, how he’d have to split his loyalties between me and his duties as King. But, Maxwell, I don’t think I’m cut out to be the sole parent while he galavants around the globe all the time! Our first sonogram! Is nothing sacred? For fuck’s-sake?!” Another loud sob escaped her throat. “I’m sorry, I’m hormonal hot-mess right now and more upset by this than I probably should be, but... I could really use a friend to distract me right now. I —“ “Say no more! I’m only a quick jet-ride away. I’ll be there a-sap.” She sniffed on the other end. “Omigod, I don’t know what I did to deserve a best friend like you, Max. Thank you.” Her statement caught Maxwell off guard. He felt his breath catch in his throat & his heart take a small leap in his chest. After that beat, he spoke, “Stop it. You deserve everything good, Tabitha. And, I feel the same about you, too.” ...

Tabitha had cared for Maxwell more than anyone in his had ever cared for him in his whole life, besides his late mother, and the thought of her being sad tugged at his heartstrings like no other. He’d do anything to make her smile and take her pain away

...... Maxwell fast-walked to keep up with Mara as she led him down the long, gilded hallway to the master bedroom doors. Even with his lanky, athletic legs and naturally speedy gait, his hurried strides still kept him about half a pace behind hers. Mara spoke to him over her shoulder, “Between the two of us, OTR? I’m thankful you came, Lord Maxwell. Her Majesty has been holed up in her room all day.” He gave a solemn nod and waited at the door as Mara rapped her knuckles on the frame “Lord Maxwell to see you, your Majesty.”

The sound of urgent steps grew louder before the door opened . Tabitha covered her sob with the back of her hand. “Oh Maxwell!”

They hugged, clinging to each other as if their bodies were buoys in the middle of a vast ocean. Maxwell placed a chaste kiss on her head as she burrowed it into his chest. After a few moments Tabitha pulled away from him long enough to address her bodyguard,

“Thank you, Mara. We’ll be fine.”

Mara gave a curt bow and left the room closing the door behind her. Maxwell gripped her hands to space their bodies apart as to get a better look at her. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and Tabitha shuddered as she felt his barely calloused thumb pad wipe them away.

“It has been way too long, Tabz! I’m sorry I’ve gotten so wrapped up in my book tour. And I haven’t seen you since you and Liam announced the news. Look at you!” His eyes shone with emotion as he looked her up and down, seeing the small growing bump underneath her shift dress. “You’re going to be a mom!”

Tabitha’s sobs resumed with a heave in her chest, her hands still holding on to his. She looked down and sighed. “But Liam’s not here.” She let go to dab the corner of her eye with the back of her thumb. “This was supposed to be a big milestone. It was so important to me. It should have been important for him, too! This whole pregnancy, becoming a parent in the next few months, it doesn’t even feel real yet, y’know? I just want to see this baby so badly to prove that to myself, to hear its heartbeat again. And, I wanted this for Liam, too! He needs that affirmation just as much as I do. I want him to feel that this is real. For us. For the family we’re about to create.”

“Psssh. Of course it’s real, Tabitha! Look at me, look. This? Right here? This was always the ‘end game’ for us. Getting Liam to fall in love with you, getting the two of you married and secure your place on throne for Cordonia with an heir, it’s all real! You have no idea how proud of you I am.”

“Really?”

“You know it.” Maxwell clicked his tongue mischievously as he squatted down low, hovering his cupped palms over her belly. He looked up at her with wide, adoring eyes. “May I?”Tabitha smiled softly and nodded, touched by his reverence for her condition.Having permission, he placed both hands down over her stomach and turned his head as he spoke animatedly to it “Hello in there, Little One! Guess what? Gender reveal parties are so basic! Definitely too passé for a future celebrity trend-setter like you!”Tabitha giggled.He looked up to give her a subtle wink, then continued talking to her belly in a more of a whisper, but loud enough for Tabitha to hear him, “You are destined for so. much. more! And your favorite Uncle Maxwell is going to spoil you rotten, no matter what.”

Tabitha put her hands over his as she looked at him with happy tears beginning to well in her eyes, “I can’t wait for that to happen.”Maxwell beamed up at Tabitha and gave her belly an adoring quick kiss before he sprung up from his crouching position to a stand. He began to tear up too, seeing so much emotion stirring in her. There was so much he wanted to say, but now that she was the Queen he felt as if it was no longer his place quite like before, to be so free with his words with her. So instead, he stared intensely into her eyes and beamed at her, wishing to convey all he felt in his heart at that moment through his smile.

“Maxwell,” she began with a tentative shake to her voice “there’s somethi—“ “No, no.” he interrupted, “You asked me to be your distraction from all of this, and I promised I’d come through for you.” “When Maxwell Percival Beaumont makes a promise, he delivers!” Maxwell pulled a small thumb drive out of his pocket. “Ahem. OK, check . this . out. My buddy, Spencer, just gave me some bootleg pre-theatrical releases of ‘John Wick 3,’ ‘Avengers Endgame,’ and ‘The Curse of La Llorna’. Siiiiiick, right?! I’m so stoked! I’ll call the kitchen downstairs for popcorn and drinks, and we’re in business!“ “Ugh, no,” she groaned, turning away and shutting him down, “no action or horror movies tonight. You know how they put me to sleep.” He scoffed in mock disappointments at her, chuckling.”I still don’t get it. How the hell does anyone fall asleep during action movies?! What‘s wrong with you?” Tabitha shrugged, “I told you, without character development or drama to pull me in, it all just becomes too much overstimulation and I just, tune it out. The loud sound effects just start to sound like a white noise machine.” Yawning through her words, she continued, “But, now that you mention it, maybe that’s just what I need to cure my insomnia?” “No, nononono. I did not come all the way from Ramsford to have my bestie fall asleep on me tonight, Tabz!” Rubbing and patting her shoulders and crouching slightly to look directly into her eyes he said, “Here’s what we’re gonna do: I’m going order up sundaes to the room and we’re going to stay up hate-watching trashy reality shows. Whatever it takes for you to have the fun night that you deserve, ok?” She smirked in agreement, “Ice cream & trashy tv? Now you’re speaking my language.” Maxwell triumphantly gave his fist aquick air pump “Yes! I’ll call the kitchen up right now.” ...........

Within moments they were sitting sprawled on the oversized chaise loungers in the adjoining theater room, watching “Real Housewives of Cordonia” on the drop down projection screen and spooning mouthfuls of mutiflavored ice cream sundaes into their mouths. Maxwell had consumed enough wine for the both of them which warmed him plenty afterwards but Tabitha had to abstain. Brrrr!” She shivered “Omigod I’m freezing now!” Maxwell chuckled & shook his head, bouncing up right away to fetch a large plush throw blanket to drape over her with a dramatic flourish. He knew the drill. “Your wish, is my command.” “Thank you!” she gushed, her teeth were still chattering, “You’re so good to me, Maxwell.” “Mind if I stretch out here? I need to put my feet up.” Maxwell found her adorable when she was cold and pouty. “Of course!” He winked and motioned for her to cuddle up against him, “C’mere,” and as she placed her head on his lap he ruffled her hair playfully. In this moment, they were just Tabitha & Maxwell, ‘best friends.’ She was his first real best friend. Isn’t this what all best friends do? “She’s like the sister I never had” he’d tell his other guy friends when they had teased him about her. They didn’t believe him. Was that it though? They were about the same age but he felt an impulse to comfort and guard her from any one or anything that could make her sad. Like an older brother? No, it was much more complex than that. Maxwell draped his arm over Tabitha protectively and she snuggled up against him, her eyes closed for a brief moment, full of contentment. As the night wore on, several episodes later, Maxwell found himself laughing at a commercial and looked down at Tabitha to see why she wasn’t laughing too. She was sound asleep. “Geez, I should have known,” he whispered, “you always fall asleep when you lie down to watch tv,”

Maxwell felt a surge of warm appreciation for how much she still trusted him, after all this time, even after marrying Liam, to let down her guard enough to fall asleep on him. He found her breathtaking when she slept, watching her long lashes flutter softly over her cheeks. Pregnancy suited Tabitha; she was even more radiant than usual, and her hair was long and lush, spread out and falling over both her shoulders and his knees. Her lips were swollen and parted, and as he watched the rise and fall of her body, he fell in a sort of trance watching sleepy breaths escaping softly from her mouth every few seconds. Maxwell felt the urge to touch her. He gently combed his fingers through her hair, tracing over the braided bags that always crowned her forehead, and in doing this he began to recall the bachelorette party, the after party, “a free pass” 

....... ~(flashback to Tabitha and Maxwell lying naked together in The Vegas hotel penthouse suite bed, Maxwell playing with her hair)~

“I’m going to wake up tomorrow and wonder if any of this was real...”

“What happens in Vegas...”

“Can happen anywhere else in the world?”

“Maxwell.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

~...

He remembered that night, the way she made him feel like the luckiest guy on earth. Why me? The future queen of Cordonia could have had any one that night for her ‘last premarital fling,’ sanctioned & blessed by none other than the her future husband, the King of Cordonia himself. And she picked Maxwell Beaumont? He remembered how out of character it was for her to seem nervous talking to him when she had brought it up at the hotel bar at the end of the night. The way she blushed and seemed just slightly and uncharacteristically nervous, she had never smiled at him like that before. He remembered she shivered when he kissed her neck, her collar bone, the swell of her breast, He remembered how she smelled, how she tasted, the soft, beautiful and otherworldly sounds she made as he went down on her on the window seat overlooking the Vegas Strip, how effortlessly he had fit into her, and how easy it had been for them to find their shared rhythm as they came together...

Coming to and snapping out of his flashback, Maxwell audibly whelped as he realized how close Tabitha’s face was to his crotch and his growing erection aching against the fly of his pants. The noise that escaped from the back of his throat caused her to stir, and he cursed himself under his breath for waking Tabitha up. “Err, sorry Sleeping Beauty but I... gotta—‘xcuse me!” he started to get up

Tabitha started to sit up herself, drowsily, with her eyes squinting against the glow of the projection screen in the semi dark room. Her line of vision came into focus onto Maxwell’s lap as he hastily tried to move from under her, and just as suddenly, she became aware of what must have been the source of his need to get away. “Maxwell! Omigod I’m so sorry- what happened?” Was that - was I touching you in my sleep? Liam says I—“ Hearing Liam’s name made his flight response kick into overdrive. This was wrong, this was so, so wrong and he had really fucked up, again. Maxwell blurted out “No! No no, it’s not— I just... had to—“ “Oh gawd” she realized he was leaving to go ‘rub one out’ in the bathroom, and the thought of him doing that had made her surprisingly horny, “Wait, Maxwell...” her hungry eyes begged him, looking him over up and down and resting at his girth. Then she sat up and did that thing Maxwell loved so when she bit the corner of her bottom lip, “You don’t need to take care of that alone. I can help you.” Oh shit. He couldn’t. She was married now. To Liam. King Liam. Maxwell began to really sweat now. fuck, is this really happening? I can’t let her do this I can’t— “No!” He pleaded, unconvincingly “I can just go—mmmphf!” His words of objection were silenced when her lips crashed into his and she them with the tip of her tongue. He lost himself, momentarily suspended in disbelief and letting go, groans escaping into her mouth as his hand moved to cup her jaw. But just as suddenly as the kiss had happened he remembered where they were, who was missing, and he let her go. “No, Tabitha,... what about Liam. You can’t. We can’t” “He’s not here.” she protested, wiping off her mouth. “He won’t be back for days. Bastien said this summit goes on for—” “But” he looked down at her baby-bump, asking his head. “I can’t, I don’t want to hurt the baby” Tabitha laughed “omigod, Maxwell! do you realize how often pregnant women have sex? It’s completely safe, nothing bad will happen to the baby” “...Really?” “Doctor approved. My hormones are raging, I’ve got no more morning sickness so now I’m horny all the time! Which is unfortunate because Liam has been.. distant, and busy.. And you know about, him and Drake, right? The real reason why Drake is always coming along on these international business trips with him?” “I mean yeah, I know... I know what used to go on” he nods, “but, I thought they would have stopped that by now, now that you’re married, I mean?“ “I had thought the same thing, but Mara & Bastien & Liam have placed so many restrictions on my travel. I feel like a princess stuck in a tower! I mean I get why they’re being overprotective, I’m carrying the future heir to the throne. But now that means I can’t be there for Liam when he gets he needs to be fulfilled. Drake is there, I’m not, so... I get it, I do. We’ve talked about it and we have an understanding. But, I get so emotional and lonely now, I just wish.... Liam has needs but, so do I...” she looked up through her lashes at him pleadingly and then back down her thin fingers ghosting over his belt. He gulped. “Yeah, ::pant:: ‘needs’, I know about those...” he could feel his dick stiffening again, aching for her. She kissed her way up Maxwell’s jawline and nipped at his ear, tenderly moaning into it.“Mmhmm.” Maxwell shivered. Tabitha’s hands went straight for his belt buckle. Like Houdini breaking out of a straightjacket she expertly freed his erection. When she pulled down the elastic from his boxer briefs his cock sprung out and bobbed up against his shirt. Tabitha grabbed his shaft and took him into her mouth in one swift motion. Maxwell’s hips instinctively thrust forward and he closed his eyes, grunting “jesusFUCK that’s good. ahhh!-“ he could now feel her canines lightly grazing his skin, her pointed tongue scribbling lines on him, and though his eyes were closed he could feel her smiling with satisfaction at how easy he was to please with each moan of pleasure he made. Maxwell’s hands grabbed her hair to pull her closer as her checks once again hollowed out to take all of him in. It was hard, really hard, for Maxwell to remember to have inhibitions and to mind the Royal protocol with his dick deep in her mouth. He knew he should stop, but then again, if he should stop, why would it feel so natural and so fucking good to be like this with her? “Tabitha...” She let the tip of his shaft roll out of her mouth and rest on her pursed lips while taking the length in one hand and his balls in the other, cupping him while circling the underside of the velvety head with the tip of her tongue. Licking him down and up, she traced the sinewy underside of the shaft, her fingers massaged tight circles on the sensitive spot just underneath his sac. “Nghhnn!” Maxwell saw how the lust in her eyes made her pupils flood them with black, darkening with desire. That look from her made his cock convulse and beads of precum began leaking at the tip. Tabitha moaned with him inside her mouth causing tantalizing vibrations on his member... but Maxwell’s trance was interrupted by a sudden and inconvenient thought invaded his mind. “Wait!”He pulled away from her. Tabitha looked up at him, confused “What?” she pouted. “I can’t cum in your mouth!” he almost whispered motioning to her stomach: “The b—.” Tabitha covered her mouth in horror “shit, you’re right” She blushed furiously.

Tabitha started to get up but her eyes darted to the side as a solution presented itself to her. She looked back at him with a Cheshire Cat grin and raked her fingers up his abdomen to his chest. “Well then, Lord Beaumont,” she purred “it looks like you’re just going to have to cum inside me.” Maxwell opened his mouth to protest, but soon forgot his objections when she came back down to meet his lips again. He smiled against her mouth and deepened the kiss as they raced and fumbled to finish undressing each other. Maxwell’s teeth playfully nipped and sucked at the exposed hollow of her neck and she gasped at the sensation. “Oh god, Tabitha. I want you so bad” he murmured in his soft, husky voice at her ear before he bit at the cartilage. “I need you now, Max.” she gasped. Maxwell’s hands palmed her breasts once he had sprung them from their confines and the heat of arousal blooming from her core at his touch was almost enough to send her over the edge. He lowered his head to take them in his mouth and stopped, his lips agape and his eyes widened, at how she had changed since the last time he had seen her naked. “They’re...so...big now!” A rakish smile crept on his face from ear to ear. He bent his neck again, meaning to tease her by biting her nipple, but it had the opposite effect and Tabitha whimpered. “ahhhAahh! More sensitive now, too!” Maxwell looked up apologetically at her “Sorry! I’ll be gentle.” Taking precious care now to avoid being so rough he swirled slow circles around her nipples with his tongue before taking her breast into his mouth to suck it. She moaned in the way that let him know he was doing it just right now and she could feel him smiling on her again.Tracing the faint raised lines of his hippo tattoo on his chest with deep longing she implored, him “I need you Max, right now.”

“Yes m’am!” He scooped her up into his arms and she squealed with surprised delight as he carried her over to the bed. Maxwell set her down dotingly on the pillows and kissed her again as he maneuvered himself on his knees between her legs. He allowed his shaft to slide against her folds, slick with arousal, rubbing back and forth on her clit. Tabitha grabbed the sheets and arched her back mewling with pleasure. “Now, Maxwell!” He guided himself into her and they connected at last. Tabitha’s ankles wrapped around his hips and he audibly groaned at how good it felt to be inside her again. His hips rolled into her rhythmically and she rose her pelvis up to meet them at his speed. She closed her eyes and reached down to rub her clit, but had made the mistake of forgetting how much Maxwell had liked to be the one in charge. He smirked and playfully slapped her hand away, replacing it with his own. “Nuh-unh, your Majesty, that’s my job.” This dominance in the bedroom was completely different than the dynamic she had with Liam and it was such a turn on. She whelped at the new waves of pleasure that coursed through her now, completely at the mercy of his touch. Grabbing one hand onto his bicep and the other at the nape of his neck, she anchored herself to him. Maxwell lowered himself to crush his lips against hers again, groaning and all the while never losing the tempo of his thrust. Tabitha pulled back to take a sharp breath and he pushed her wrists down to hold them against the bed and as he planked himself above her. Maxwell’s biceps flexed to hover over her just so as to not crush her with his weight. They stared deep into each others eyes, both a deep sapphire blue mirroring each-other’s intensity with pupils ever growing and darkening their depths, “Max- I’m gonna... nnhhh”

Her words came as he felt her walls begin to throb around him, and it set every nerve in his body alight. With ever quickening pace his breaths and hip gyrations intensified. He could sense that familiar feeling of his sac tightening, and from her shallow breathing he knew they were both almost there. Maxwell closed his eyelids as he gave over to the delicious pressure boiling over in him, and they climaxed together, groaning into each other’s necks to muffle their sounds of wanton euphoria

......

He turned over and collapsed sweaty and spent onto the pillow top mattress. There was a smattering of lazy breathless kisses and pets shared between them, but no words of consequence spoken. Staring at the ceiling, Maxwell took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. His mind was wrestling with the two warring impulses. One: get out of bed right away, get dressed and leave. She was not his & he was not hers, that was the standard procedure for all of his other one night stands. The second one was to wrap his arms around her and stay that way till morning in that beautiful postcoital bliss that he had only ever felt with her. Maxwell was relieved when Tabitha made the decision for him, nuzzling her head into the crook of his shoulder and tenderly draping her arms around him. He combed her hair with his fingers, staring at the ceiling until his heavy eyelids began to give way to sleep. They stayed that way for many moments, silent and breathing slowly with their chests rising and falling in alternation. “I love you” he whispered under his breath, meaning only for himself to hear it, just before drifting off. But then, he heard her, murmuring in her sleep, “The... baby... might be yours” Was he dreaming already? She couldn’t have really said that. Tabitha said she was on the pill during the unity tour, surely there was... no way that— but he couldn’t finish the thought before falling into a deep & dreamless sleep

...................

To Be Continued......? <<< click for *OTR Part 2

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn @itsbrindleybinch @silversparrow02

also tagging some of my favorite bloggers who’ve tagged me before on their fanfics ;) : @tmarie82 @boneandfur @ritachacha @breaumonts @fullbeaumonty@scgdoeswhat @ludextruction @littlecrookedheart @jovialyouthmusic @queen-among-writers @choiceslife

[bbclesmis]

The Telegraph: Dominic West: 'Colette's husband smoked and had sex three times a day – it makes our vegan times look dreary'

When Dominic West was cast opposite Keira Knightley in Colette, to play the limelight-stealing first husband of the not-yet-famous French novelist, it was during his stage run of Dangerous Liaisons at London’s Donmar, playing a wicked libertine of quite another époque.

“I tend to get villains these days,” West muses, sinking back affably in a hotel armchair. To viewers of the BBC’s new Les Misérables, the remark may seem puzzling: after all, it’s not the obsessive Javert he’s playing in that six-hour, song-free version of Victor Hugo’s novel, but Jean Valjean, one of the most unambiguous heroes in world literature.

The 49-year-old Yorkshireman admits it was a refreshing change – if probably a one-off – to be offered such a morally upstanding assignment. Willy in Colette and Valmont in Liaisons are more like bread-and-butter characters; throw in his small-screen infidelities in The Affair, which has one last season of grubby intrigue to shoot, and he’s the actor most likely to be glared at on the street as an incorrigible philanderer.

Beyond turpitude, though, he spots something else these parts have in common: we watch him outmanoeuvred by the women he assumed he could possess.

“That does seem to be a theme in my career – being matched by stronger women. Which is probably the theme of my life, too. I've got five sisters, and three daughters! I’m the go-to guy for playing the male foil, I suppose.”

When did this shift to bad guys occur, if it was even really a shift? “You reach certain waypoints in your career – well, I played lovers, and now I play villains, and dads! A while ago, I played Iago, Fred West and some other horror, all in the same year. I must have a funny look in my eye? I don't know what it is. But I suppose the Devil's always got the best lines. They're more interesting to play, really, especially if you can play against the evil.”

Colette is being marketed around Knightley, by and large. This seems eminently fair: as a writer and actress in turn-of-the-century Paris, Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette spent way too much of her career living in the shadow of her ruthless, slave-driving publisher – also her husband, known to the world as “Willy” – to be co-credited on her own biopic with anyone else.

Still, it’s West who snuck his way into a BIFA nomination, for best supporting actor, while Knightley was crowded out. The film relies for nuance on his refusal to monster the character. He concedes that it’s not the most flattering role. “I had three different fat-suits and an appalling walrus moustache!” But in West’s hands, an odd sympathy emerges for Willy, despite all his terrible behaviour – locking Colette in an upstairs room to write, cheating on her incessantly, and eventually selling off the rights to her novels.

Show more

“I thought he was obviously an exciting guy to be around,” West says. “And a total shit, and a narcissist, and an exploiter. But she was with him because he was this incredible force of nature, really, and a sort of bon viveur catalyst to quite a lot of very good writers. I did, even at the end, have a sympathy for this Salieri figure, who realised, having been so famous, that he would only ever be remembered as Colette’s former husband. Which is ironic – no one's ever heard of him now. And if they have, that's the only reason.”

First hatched as an idea 15 years ago, Wash Westmoreland’s film has been an arduous one to get made. West mentions this slow gestation to explain how tentatively the dial moves, in terms of getting stories told about women’s creative achievements. Just five years ago, Knightley was essentially playing sidekick to Alan Turing in The Imitation Game; now it’s her turn to play the genius.

West sees it as “rather serendipitous” that so much discussion about women’s agency – not to mention male abuse – started to happen as the film got made. There’s a striking parallel, I point out, with the role Glenn Close plays in The Wife – as the true brains behind the operation in another literary marriage. “I bet that’s a commonplace story,” he agrees. “Misapplied acclaim. It’s interesting that George Eliot had to change her name to a man's to get published. But then, so did JK Rowling. Doesn't change much, does it?”

 As a true-blue fan of The Wire, I couldn’t possibly interview West without touching on his lead role in that series. You could argue David Simon’s Baltimore-set, 5-season HBO epic changed everything for the actor in 2002, but you’d be wrong, because it took about five years before anyone even saw it.

West, a dabbler in Hollywood back then, was deep into his “lovers” phase – he’d been an alcoholic boyfriend to Sandra Bullock in 28 Days, a jazz-age lothario shot dead by Renée Zellweger in Chicago, a caddish colleague to Julia Roberts in Mona Lisa Smile. He was usually the debonair party animal you had to get out of the way so the film could carry on.

And then a tape he’d recorded as a joke fell into Simon’s hands. “It was just an astonishing piece of luck,” he reflects, “because in spite of myself, I landed the lead part in the best TV show of all time!”. This casting fluke lets him lampoon himself so perfectly it’s hard not to laugh. “I spent an awful lot of time trying to get out of it! I was always saying, ‘Oh gawd, not another season.’ Mainly because I was away from home, from my young daughter. And also because no one seemed to be watching it.”

Jimmy McNulty, an alcoholic cop struggling with child support and unstable relationships, was the show’s weary constant. West’s crumpled humility gave the show a relatable centre, but it finally paid him back: the slow-trickle recognition of Simon’s sensational achievement has let everyone involved live in its afterglow.

“I wouldn’t have watched it, had I not been in it,” West admits. “My daughter told me the other day, ‘Yeah, I watched it, it's very dated, dad.’ I don't think it is, though! It's been the gift that keeps on giving.” Michael B. Jordan, now a superstar after the Creed films and Black Panther, got his break there as a tragic 16-year-old drug dealer called Wallace. “I directed him in the last season, now he’s the king of Hollywood,” West remembers.

And there was Idris Elba, as kingpin-cum-politician Stringer Bell. “What happened to Idris? I don't know what happened to Idris. Has anyone heard of him since?! It was perfect. I think he knew it was perfect. He came in, blazed it, and got out. The rest of us felt slightly like journeymen, supporting these celebrity cameos.”

West socks over this kind of self-deprecation with reliable verve. He gallantly assumes it was his dancing, not Knightley’s, which led to a polka sequence being cut from Colette. “She’s pretty easy to spark off,” he says of his co-star. “And she's certainly easy to fall in love with. I had one particular scene where I'm in despair because she's leaving me, and that was a piece of cake.”

Colette was just a 19-year-old Burgundian country girl when she met Willy, 14 years her senior, and was swept off her feet. When West talks about their vigorous sex life, which branched out to multiple partners in Paris – and some they shared – there’s a hint of performative envy to his routine. “Considering what he drank and ate and smoked every day, he was also having sex three times a day. I mean, people did that, in those days. They make our vegan times look so dreary!”

Meanwhile, his approach to tackling the almost dauntingly virtuous Jean Valjean was to find the weakness in the man. “He's so obviously someone overcoming his shortcomings. Which is the only chance any of us get to be heroes. Quite apart from all the acrobatic saving of kids that he does, his great thing is redeeming his flaws, or his dark past.”

It’s an effort for us both not keep calling it Les Miz. Wasn’t he at all disappointed that he never got to belt out “Two-four-six-oh-OOOOONE!!” in his beefiest Old Etonian baritone?

“I was disappointed, but I think everyone else was relieved! I wondered where the songs were, actually. I kept trying to sing and they kept stopping me.”

Les Misérables continues on BBC One on Sunday at 9pm. Colette is out in UK cinemas from January 11 (x)

[rfsak2]

Fight

Here’s hoping this ends up in the tag as it should. This is based of some prompts the lovely @xodirection sent me yesterday! Thanks, girl! Hope you like!

Prompts used: “I miss you so much it hurts.” Long cuddles (There’s so many cuddles) Jack gets in a bar fight because some jackass puts his hands on his lady…

Fight Summary: Them’s fighting words… Jack Lowden/Reader Warnings: Shouting and a bit of mild violence.

There was a knock on the door and she sprung to her feet, setting her laptop aside. She smiled at Bobby who sat at the small dining table across the room. “That’s probably Jack!”

She dashed towards the door and threw it open, smiling widely down at Jack. Throwing her arms open, she beamed. “Jack Jack!”

Jack managed a small, tight smile and wrapped his arms around her. “I missed ye, hennie.”

She frowned and pulled slightly away from him. “Are you okay, baby?”

He shrugged and caught sight of Bobby packing his laptop up over her shoulder. “Get lost, Bobby.”

Frowning a bit at his tone, Bobby nodded. “On my way out, Jack. See you Monday morning, Y/N.”

She nodded and waved, smiling politely. “Yep. See you bright and early.”

Jack stepped fully into the trailer, letting Bobby out, frowning mightily down at the smaller man.

As soon as the door was closed behind him, Y/N turned on Jack. “What was that about?”

Jack shrugged and brushed past her to sit on the couch. “It’s nothin’, hen.” He pasted a smile on his face and patted his lap. “Come cuddle?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What was that, Jack? Why were you so rude to Bobby?”

Jack scoffed. “Who gives a fuck, woman? Ge’ over ‘ere.”

“No.”

“‘Scuse me?” He all but growled.

She shook her head and pulled herself up to her not very impressive height. “Absolutely not. You’re not gonna talk to me like that, Jack.”

“Like what, hennie? How am I talkin’ te ye exactly?” He swiped a hand over his face.

“Like I’m below you, Jack. Like you have a right to command sex from me.”

“Don’t I?” He tried for humor, he really did. But it just came out of his mouth nastily, like acid. He fought to regain control over his temper and tried again. “Hennie, come here please…” He shoved to his feet. “Fuck this. I’m gettin’ a hotel.”

She pulled back like he had struck her. “No. Sit your ass down. We’re gonna talk about this.” He glared at her. “What did I do? What is your bloody problem, Jack?”

He ignored her and made for the door. She got in between him and the door and shoved at his chest. “Baby, what is wrong? Can you please just talk to me?”

He was silent for a long moment, leaning down over her, caging her against the door. “Bobby… how many hoors a day do ye spend wit’ him?”

She pulled back. “What? Jack, he’s my assistant. I spend a lot of time with him.” She grew quiet. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m no’ suggestin’ anythin’.” He shrugged, tense and sarcastic. “Jus’ tha’ ye seem t’enjoy spendin’ tha’ time wit’ ‘im… he already fuck ye, hen? Tha’ why ye don-”

She slapped him and ducked under his arm. “Get out.”

He banged his fist against the door loudly and she jumped, looking suddenly very scared. His heart froze and he realized just how far this had gotten. “Hennie.. Lovie, I’m-”

She shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes. “Out. Go find that fuckin’ hotel. I don’t care.” She sucked in a breath. “I haven’t seen you for two months and this is what you do?”

“Y/N… I’m sorry, lass…”

“Get. Out.” She turned and fled towards her bedroom, slamming the door.

Jack sagged back against the door, sinking to the floor, and forced himself to sit and listen to her sobbing through the thin walls of the trailer. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, fighting back tears.

It had been a long day and he hadn’t really meant to take that out on his girl. But then he’d seen Bobby and lost the last bit of his patience…

He knew she wouldn’t ever cheat on him. That she loved him as much as he loved her, but he had wanted nothing more than to cuddle with his lady-love and then the kid was there- Shit, he was a dumbass.

God.. what had he done?

He shoved to his feet and all but staggered toward the bedroom door where he could still hear her sobbing. She had probably not made it to the bed and had just curled in on herself on the other side of the door. The image that his mind conjured up made him feel like scum.

I am such a fuckin’ arsehole.

He knocked on the door and she struggled to catch her breath. “I told you to leave.”

“Lovie… I’m so sorry.”

She muffled the next sob and he wanted to punch himself in the face. “I just want you to leave me alone. Go away.”

He sighed and sat on the other side of the door. “I’m an arse, love. I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t say anything and more out of a bid to fill the silence, Jack started rambling. “I miss ye so much it hurts, hen. Skype jus’ ain’t enough, y’know. I hate wakin’ up in th’morning an’ knowin’ yer no’ there t’force me ou’ a’bed. I hate no’ bein’ able to eat wit’ ye, te talk through even the mundane, normal shite wit’ ye. I hate working on sets wi’out ye.”

He chuckled sadly. “I’ve been rather spoiled by working wit’ ye, s’pose. It’s jus’ not th’same wi’out ye on th’otha side of th’camera. Some of the camera opera’ers on this crew are absolute rubbish. Today we had to film one scene five bloody times because th’camera couldn’t get their shite toge’er.” He sighed. “Tha’s why I missed tha’ ferst bloody train and then dinner. It’s been a shit day, love. I’m sorry.”

She stuttered angrily. “You accused me of cheating on you because another camera operator sucked at their job? What fuckin’ sense does that make, Jack?”

He nodded, though she couldn’t see it. “I know.. I don’t ‘ave a single credible explanation fer tha’, lovie… I was jus’ angry an’ spoilin’ fer a fight. I know ye’d never cheat on me.”

“Do you?” He felt her head connect with the door lightly. “Cause if you don’t, fuck right off.”

“I jus’ went a bit mad, is all. All I’ve wanted all day is to be wit’ ye an’ it felt like everythin’ was conspirin’ to make tha’ not happen. Then I get here and Bobby is here and even though rationally I know ye don’t want ‘im, that ye love me, I just-”

“Acted like a complete fucktard?” She sucked in another breath, her voice less shaky. “We were just trying to get everything done so I could spend all weekend with you and not have anything to work on. I just wanted to make sure you had my undivided attention. Then you go and flip the fuck out over Bobby of all people.”

He sighed. “Hennie, I’m sorry I blew up.”

“You’re an ass.” She paused. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Don’t I know it, lass. Don’t know what I’d do wi’out ye. I love ye too.” He smiled. “Let me in? I need te hold ye somethin’ fierce.”

There was a tense silence and then he heard her stand. He sighed in relief and stood. The door opened slowly and she stuck her head out, using her body to block him out of the room. She leaned against the door frame and the sight of her hunched posture and red eyes had his heart plummeting all over again.

“Och… hennie. I’m so sorry.”

She shrugged and looked down at her feet. When he lifted his hand to wipe at her cheeks, she shied away from him and he sucked in a stuttering breath.

“You scared me. I’ve never seen you that angry before.”

He nodded and leaned in close to her, but not touching her. “I’m sorry, hennie. I swear, I’d never hurt ye. I didn’t even realize how out of control I had gotten. Baby, I’m so sorry.”

She nodded and tentatively set a hand against his waist before it slid up his chest. She lifted her other hand and cradled his red cheek “I’m sorry for slapping you.”

He shook his head and slid his arms around her slowly, tryin’ not to spook her. “It’s alright… Though it did sting, hennie. I feel better knowing ye can defend yeself.”

She stepped fully into his arms and chuckled through a fresh run of tears, pressing her face to his chest. He squeezed her tightly to him and nuzzled his cheek against the top of her head. “Gawd. I ‘ate m’self fer doin’ this te ye, m’love.” He let her sob, pressing the occasional soft kiss to her hair. “Let’s go lay down, hennie. Please?”

She nodded and turned away from him, wiping at her face. He eyed the bed with some trepidation. He doubted he would be able to even fully stretch out his legs.

“What is it?” She had turned back to him.

He smiled softly and wiped a stray tear from her face. “Jus’ a small bed, hennie. Tha’sall. I’m too tall fer it.”

“You’re gonna wish you really went to that hotel now.” She smiled feebly and sat down, scooting to the far side.

He shook his head and leaned over the bed to kiss her, catching her eyes and holding her gaze. “If yer no’ at th’hotel, then I don’t want t’be at th’hotel. I’d sleep in a bloody shack on a dirt floor if ye were there wit’ me.” He grinned and thumbed at her chin. “If I had-a gone to th’hotel, then I’d be hatin’ meself all night fer walkin’ oot on th’woman I love an’ leavin’ her cryin’. Ye know tha’ right, hennie? Wouldnae ‘ave slept anyways.”

“Yeah, I know.” She kissed him before curling her knees to her chest and watching as he sat on the edge of the bed and unlaced his boots.

Boots gone, he stayed still, perched on the edge of the bed, shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion and the emotional toil of the day. He rubbed a hand over his face and her heart squeezed as his shoulders started shaking silently.

She scooted forward and wrapped herself around him, cheek pressed to his back. Sometime later, his breathing smoothed as he calmed down and he chuckled through the tears. “No’ necessarily th’sexiest thing ye’ve seen me do.”

She smiled. “Oh, I don’t know  There’s something very comforting about knowing that all this affects you as much as it does me. This past hour has been brutal. I’d be worried if you managed to make it through dry-eyed.”

He nodded, wiping at his face, and patted her thigh. “Move back, lovie. I need a cuddle.”

She laid back and he stood, stripping himself of his jumper, undershirt and jeans. She hadn’t bothered to take off her own jeans, so he motioned to her. “Can I help ye out, hennie?” She smiled and nodded.

Smiling, he moved to kneel next to her on the bed and leant down to kiss her, before popping the button on her jeans and shimmying them down her legs. He paused to press a kiss to her sternum over her (or rather his) uni jumper- how did I miss that?-, before stretching out over her. He laid his head on her chest, angling across the bed to make sure he could stretch out fully, and sighed when she started carding her fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry, hennie.”

She shushed him. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

“I love ye.”

“I love you too.” She kissed his head. “I’m sorry you had such a shit day.”

He shrugged and they lapsed into comfortable silence. She had just begun dozing off, warm and safe in his arms when he spoke again. “If I ever do tha’ again, leave me.”

She hummed and he sat up, eyes serious. “If I ever get tha’ angry again, where yer scared tha’-” he swallowed dryly “-tha’ I might hurt ye, leave me.”

She nodded but leaned up to kiss him. “Okay, I will. I was scared for a brief second but I didn’t ever think you were going to hurt me, please know that. You scared yourself as much… maybe more than you scared me.”

He laid his head back on her chest. “I will never forget th’look on yer face. I never wanted te scare ye, I promise.”

She shushed him again and started combing through his hair again. “I know, baby. I never thought you did, I promise. I know that you’d never hurt me. You just lost control for a split second.”

He shook his head. “It’s no excuse. I shoulda never done it.”

She shushed him and kissed his hair.

**

She followed Jack back to the table, smiling at the friends who had joined them since Jack had pulled her onto the dance floor.

Jack grinned. “Hiya!”

There was only seat so she let Jack pull her into his lap, waving off Fionn’s offered seat. “It’s fine. Why do you think I’m marrying him except to always have a place to sit?”

Jack chuckled and pressed his hips up against her. She muffled a giggle and Jack pressed his lips to her ear. “I’ll give ye a place te sit, hennie.”

She smiled and pecked him on the lips. “Behave, rooster.”

“Neva!”

Quietly laughing, she tapped the little beauty mark revealed by his newly clean-shaven face, before sliding her fingers back into his hair. “Getcha a man who can do both.”

Jack hummed, eyes on her lips.

There was a sudden awkward quietness and the couple turned from each other.

Y/N frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Fionn shrugged. “That bloke by the bar. Tom says he’s been staring this way for awhile.”

Jack leaned around her and she swiveled to look. The man, who she wouldn’t hesitate to describe as vaguely dude bro-ish, was still staring. When he saw that he had her attention, he lifted his hand to his face and made an obscene gesture.

She recoiled back against Jack’s chest.

“Wha’ th’fuck?” Jack patted her thigh. “Le’me up, hennie. I’m gonna deal wit’ this.”

She shook her head and turned to face Jack. “Absolutely not.”

Jack frowned, flushed in anger. “No bloody arsehole is gonna act tha’ way te a lady while I’m around, hen. Le’me up.”

Harry nodded and had already stood. “We’ll go with him, Y/N. That’s not cool.”

“No.” She smoothed a hand over his shoulder and down his chest, before turning to the boys. She motioned for them all to sit. “You’re not going to start a fight in a pub over some drunk dumbass being gross. No. You’re all too smart for that.”

“Oh am I?” Jack’s eyes were still very firmly on the dude bro. “I don’t think I am.”

Fionn laughed despite the tension. “I wish I had recorded that.”

“Oi! Ye wanker!” Jack blushed and swatted at Fionn’s arm.

Just like that the tension was dispelled and Y/N sighed in relief.

Jack settled back against the couch and pulled her firmly against his chest, nodding. “Alright, hennie. Jus’ because you asked me to.”

“Thank you, my love.” She leaned up to kiss him. “There’s already too much attention on all of us, what with Harry being here. I don’t want all of this to end up in a tabloid if we can avoid this.”

He sighed, still spoiling for the fight and shrugged. “If tha’s wha’ ye want.” He kissed her forehead. “Yer too smart fer me, lovie.”

She chuckled. “I love you, rooster.”

“I love ye too, m’gorgeous girl.”

An hour and half of her Guinness later, she stood. “I’m gonna run to the toilet.”

Jack casting his eyes around, looking for the dude bro. “Do ye want me te stand ou’side an’ wait fer ye?”

She looked around. “Is he lingering?”

Jack shrugged. “Haven’t seen ‘im in awhile.”

She nodded. “Should be fine then.” She leaned over and kissed him. “I’ll be right back.”

He kept his eyes on her as she crossed the pub toward the toilet. He was fine for the first ten minutes but as each additional minute passed, Jack got increasingly nervous.

He stood and the boys looked up. “I’m gonna go check on Y/N. Be right back.”

Tom nodded and it was like a switch had been flipped, all the earlier tension back tenfold.

Jack leaned on the wall by the corridor that led back to the toilets. He waited, not wanting to make other women uncomfortable if all was well, and was seconds from asking another girl to pop into the bathroom and check when he heard a half-muffled ‘get off’ in a distinct American accent.

He brushed past a man leaving the corridor and rounded the corner towards the ladies’ toilet and saw red. The same asshole from earlier had Y/N backed up against the wall, one hand over her mouth, trying to keep her quiet, the other trying to unbutton her jeans.

She pushed his hand off her face and hauled back, slapping him, fighting like a hellcat to get her knee up between his legs. “Get off of me.”

Cussing a blue streak, the man lifted a hand to strike her.

Jack rushed the man, catching him around the lapels and shoving him against the wall with a thump he was sure could be heard in the pub. “Are ye aff ye bluidy heid, ye bastard? Were ye goin’ te hit her?”

The man laughed. “Whatever man, she wanted it.”

Jack growled and slammed him against the wall again. “Ye best watch yer bloody gob or I’ll skelp ye one guid.”

“Fuck you and fuck your frigid bitch.”

Jack hauled back and hit the asshole square in the jaw. “I told ye te watch yer gob. Ye’ll no’ talk about her tha’ way, ye ken?”

The man spat blood at his feet and managed to break Jack’s grip. He threw a wild, unaimed punch, catching Jack in the eyebrow. Jack caught the man again and this time there was no doubt that everyone in the suddenly silent pub heard the man’s head hit the panelled wood wall.

Y/N jumped and Jack caught the motion out of the corner of his eye. “Are ye okay, m’love?” When she had nodded, he jerked his chin. “Go stand wit’ the lads, lovie.”

She nodded, turning to see their friends gathered in the corner. Shakily, she took the five steps to Barry and Harry who gently passed her back to Tom and Fionn.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Tom wrapped an arm around her and smiled gently. “Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head. “Jack’s bleeding.”

Tom shushed her. “He’ll be alright.”

“Your whore girlfriend-”

Jack punched him again, this time right in the mouth. “Haud yer wheesht!”

“Fuck you, you jock bastard.”

This time he lost a tooth.

There was a commotion behind them and the bouncers pushed past the growing crowd. “Break it up! Come on, lads. There’s no need to fight.”

Jack dropped the man, hands up, and backed away. “I caught him tryin’ t’rape me burd.”

One bouncer frowned as the other hauled the dude bro to his feet. “Is this true?”

The asshole spat out another tooth. “Fuck t’lot of ya.”

“Where’s your girlfriend?”

Jack motioned to Y/N, who pulled away from Tom and rushed to Jack’s side. “M’fiancee.”

The bouncer nodded. “Did this man try to rape you?”

She nodded. “He was waiting for me when I left the toilet. Grabbed me and hauled me into the corner.”

“Fuck you, bitch.”

Jack made another bid to get at the man, but Y/N grabbed his hand, avoiding his split knuckles. Jack looked down and gathered her against his side. Pressing his face to her hair, he turned back to the bouncers. “He harassed ‘er earlier, made an obscene gesture, leerin’, all tha’.”

The bouncer nodded. “We’ll call the cops. Go head back into the pub and we’ll get this arsewipe out of here.”

Jack turned and found he was blocked by a crowd of people. He gritted his teeth and bellowed, “Move, ye arseholes! I wanna get m’girl outta ‘ere.”

The crowd parted and still in black temper, Jack led her back to the table. “Sit down, hennie. I need a bluidy drink.”

She shook her head. Smiling softly, she guided him to the seat. “Sit down, my love. I need to grab ice for that eyebrow. I’ll grab you a drink.”

He touched his eyebrow, hand coming away bloody, and winced. “Didn’t realize he go’ me.”

She nodded, holding a clean cocktail napkin underneath his eyebrow. “I don’t know how. You’ve got blood all in your eye. You’ll definitely have a bruise in the morning-”

Still clinging to his anger, he tried for a grin. “Ye should see th’otha guy.”

She pecked at his lips. “I know, I did…” She fingered the collar of his flannel. “I think that shirt is toast, you have blood on the collar and the sleeve.” She kissed his cheek. “Hold that. I’ll be right back.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want ye leavin’ me side fer the rest of the night, hennie.” He grabbed her hand.

“I’ll be-”

Barry smiled. “I’ll get it, Y/N. Sit wit’ Jack.” He grinned at Jack. “Gotta buy the night’s hero a drink, yeah? Scotch?”

Jack nodded and pulled Y/N back to him. She sat gingerly in his lap and put some pressure on his eyebrow. “Are ye really okay, hennie?”

She nodded, smiling at him. “You, my hero, got to him mere seconds after he pulled me into the corner. I’m just fine. I promise.”

He nodded and flexed his hand, wincing as Barry returned with his whiskey, a glass of ice and first aid kit.

Jack sipped at his whiskey, while she cleaned the area around his eyebrow with an alcohol pad. She smoothed a little petroleum jelly over the cut when she was satisfied that it was clean and no longer bleeding. “There that should do for that. Let’s see that hand.”

After carefully cleaning the blood away from his split knuckles, she wrapped some ice up in a clean rag. Pressing it to his hand, they sat and waited for the bouncers to come back after talking to the police.

Jack sipped his whiskey again. “I love ye, Y/N.”

She smiled and kissed him, aware that everyone still had eyes on them. “I love you too, rooster. I’m so glad I have you.”

He knocked foreheads with her before wincing and cussing as it knocked his split eyebrow against her forehead. “Shite!”

She laughed. “Now you’ve gone and got bloody petroleum jelly on me! Yuck!”

Jack laughed and leaned forward to kiss her.

Inappropriate Up Next: Maybe

[amandakaiserwrites]

festival recap: juggalo fest

for Ladygunn Magazine

How to Achieve to Juggalo Enlightenment: You too can be a down-ass Ninja

It's the crack of dawn and I'm sleeping in the back of a dust-covered Prius smooshed up against a family-size cooler, and the Juggalos are screaming. 

More specifically, it's a bare-chested Jugalette wearing a tutu and cloth dreads, and she is probably ninety pounds soaking wet. She's lying in the medical tent writhing manically, screaming bloody murder while the medical attendants strap her down to the cot. Homegirl is definitely on one - or two or three.

The Juggalos hanging out by the car next to me chuckle through the cracked window. With every scream they bust out little one-liners like "This one's definitely on some bath salts" and "We've got a live one!" My sentiment is similar - I want to feel badly for this broke-down chick but her nonstop screaming is just getting goddamn ridiculous. With one more bloodcurdling cry my hope for an extra hour of shuteye is completely lost. I open my bleary eyes (my contacts have been in for 3 days straight) and check my phone for my messages from the outside world - but oh right - no reception in Cave-In-Rock, IL. Welcome to Day 3 of the Gathering of the Juggalos.

If you're like me, your Juggalo knowledge can be counted on three fingers at best:  clown face paint, magnets, and Faygo may come to mind. The Gathering of the Juggalos is a "family" reunion for the loyal fans of rap icons The Insane Clown Posse (ICP), and when I scored a ticket to the annual 4-day festival at Cave-In-Rock  I had no idea what was in store. Carnival carnage and hip hop was the very least of it. Documentaries like Brooklyn filmmaker Sean Dunne's "American Juggalo" have attempted to document this subculture, but it's still too easy to draw assumptions that all Juggalos are cornrowed, violent, gay-bashing gang whose primary interests are getting violent and getting fucked up.  After a weekend at the Gathering I'm here to tell you that (despite the zombie Jugalette story), this is definitely not the case.

Being a Juggalo is a way of life, and these Family-approved steps will help you achieve enlightenment their way, so you too can be "down with the clown".

1. Immerse yourself fully in the experience, staying mindfully present.  

I admit that I judged the eff out of Juggalo culture before the festival. I imagined garishly face-painted goons maniacally laughing while throwing puppies into a bonfire, or something. It didn't help matters that everyone I talked to wished me luck on getting back from the Gathering alive. The closer we neared on our 6-hour ride to Cave-In-Rock, IL, the less our 3LW  Pandora playlist and roadies succeeded in calming our nerves. Night was falling, and everyone in the car fessed up fears of clowns lurking behind shadowy trees, creepy Faygo initiation rituals, and more John Wayne Gacy-esque situations. When we finally reached the campgrounds however, what emerged from behind the trees was surprisingly...normal. People walking around, talking excitedly. Juggalos eager to fill our cups with vodka. Barely a clown face in sight - the greasepaint actually became totally normal over the weekend, but given our fragile state the less clowns we saw that night the better.

2. Surround yourself with inspiring spiritual leaders.

ICP members Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope are studied hip hop geeks themselves,so the lineup was sheer rap fantasticness. The five days of nonstop music included the sharp-tongued Detroit rapper Danny Brown, 90s hip hop heavyweights like DMX, 36 Mafia and the Pharcyde, a ton of late-night metal bands as well as all the acts on Psychopathic Records, ICP's horrorcore homebase. The Michigan-based label also brought out juggalo VP's Twiztid (nom de plume of Michigan rappers Jamie Madrox and Monoxide), Blaze Ya Dead Homie, and more face-painted purveyors of white collar gangster rap. The rappers' energy was infectious and we definitely got into it - by the time Twiztid performed we were turned up on Rock & Rye-flavored Faygo (it has a bubblegum taste that is not found in nature and is also strangely addictive) and we got into a serious discussion about which clown-faced member was hotter, the way some people might compare the likes of Matthew McConaughey and Channing Tatum. It was a weird scene, basically.

The culminating musical experience was the ICP set on Sunday night, which took extreme mental preparation on my part. Do I want to get doused in Faygo and get my world rocked or run for cover like an outsider zombie? Ultimately I chose the middle ground, leaving a safe distance between me and the stage. The show began with a circus ringleader MC'ing, introducing psycho clowns dancing maniacally around the stage and stiff, bloodied zombie-types that managed to stay in crippled character throughout the entire the theatrically gory two-hour set. Following two "Faygo Breaks" where the clowns came out and whipped exploding Faygo bottles into the faces of ecstatic fans, songs about chicken hunting, magnets and maniacal murder schemes, and an intense skit where a whip-thin, lollipop-wielding blonde Jugalette was frisked suggestively by a burly Juggalo in a cop uniform, the entire dark carnival was topped off by an epic fireworks show combined with a neverending Faygo shower. Fifty Juggalos and Jugalettes mobbed the stage and this point and threw Faygo into the audience for a good twenty minutes, which was taken to the next level by - I shit you not - a firehose connected to a tank of blue Faygo. The next day I emerged from the festival grounds back to civilization looking like a strung-out seapunk. So at least I had that going for me.

 3. Allow your inner beauty to show through. 

Dear Free People Fashion Blog, you got scooped on this one. The Gathering of the Juggalo Handbook calls out mainstream "zombies" who are slaves to trends, yet many a Jugalette - -and hell, even most Juggalos - have their own particular aesthetics. Several girls admitted to planning their fest outfits out weeks in advance, and nary a single one involved high-waisted shorts and/or a bandeau top (thank gawd). Instead, embroidered, crocheted, tie-dyed, ripped, splattercore, studded and worn DIY elements reigned supreme. Cornrowed hatchet men (ICP's logo) danced on pirate-jagged hemlines, camo and 90's B-Boy style was everywhere - sports bra tops, snapbacks, colorful kicks, baggy pants, and neon everything. Every Juggalo and Juggalette seemed to have their own take on festival style, from the ubiquitous toplessness to one guy who wore his puppy as a shawl. 

4.  Quiet the incessant chattering of your repetitive mind.

 I know what you're thinking: "Drugs? At a music festival? My word!" The actual presence of drugs wasn't the baffling part, but rather the designated "Drug Bridge" where most festival commerce occured. Juggalos flaunted their wares by scrawling on torn Cheez-It boxes and showing salesmanlike charm that would put Sears and Roebuck to shame. This seemed pretty fitting with the Juggalo lifestyle - don't be something you're not, don't be afraid to let people know what you're all about - and in the case of the drug bridge, that would be Ether! Oxcotin! MDMA! Xanax! 

5. Embrace and release all mental, emotional and physical attachments to everyone and everything. 

Something you need to know about the Gathering -  almost everything is for sale. Many a juggalette will flash a "titty" or two for ten bucks. One guy tried to sell us tabs for a dollar - amazing deal right? We thought so too, until they turned out to be pop tabs. Like, of the freshly-ripped-from-the-Pepsi-can variety. 

6. Free yourself  from the illusion that you are separate from an infinite source of love and energy. 

 All the rumours are true: the Gathering is definitely the most controversial, out-there music festival of all time. The drugs, naked bodies, general disorder, and insane rap are not the main reasons for this though -  it's being in a music festival still untouched by judgement, trends, societal norms, and hipsters.  The juggalos bitch-slapped my world in a weird and awesome way, and I've got the memories and the Faygo-stained backpack to prove it.

[mobbtown-blog1]

Destiny’s child vs. the wu tag clan (fan fiction)

Its been ten years since the release of Destiny’s Child farewell album; Destiny Fulfilled. To celebrate the anniversary, Sony Records booked a concert at the Barclay Center in Brooklyn, New York to celebrate the milestone. The girls, Michelle, Kelly, and Beyonce had not performed with each other since the Super Bowl 47 Half time show in 2013 Where the Ravens beat the 49ers. Kelly was building an international fan base with her dance club vibe. Beyonce just shocked the world with a self financed secretly released visual album and Michelle just got her eyebrows waxed at the mall. The ladies were picked up from their hotel in Williamsburg and shuttled over to the arena, by limo, early in the morning.

Their liaison, Eduardo De La Mucho, met the trio and scuttled them through the parking lot into the back entrance past an already burgeoning crowd of fans camping out in tents, sleeping bags, and trailers all decorated with images of the girls singing and whirling amiss airbrush images of the Milky Way. Although, the girls were inconspicuously dressed in trench coats, dark shoes and a vail of nondescript ball caps; they failed to allude their voracious fans, yelling and jockeying for their attention: “Kelly, I love you girl, keep repping for us co-co skin sistas, girl!” “Bey!! Bey!! Bey!! I love you Bae!!” Oh girl I wish I was you girl, I do, cept, I wouldn’t be with no damn Jay-Z, doe, girl! I know he got all the money but I couldn’t, with his camel lookin’ ass!! “Blue Ivy cute and all, but bestiality is a crime against God and nature, girl!” “Michelle…Michelle… it’s me yo cousin Sweet Meat, your mother said give her a call, your half of the cell phone bill is due. She said,If you ain’t wanna do your part, you shouldn’t have signed up for the framily plan, Michelle.”

Once inside they meet up with their celebrity Manager, Nigel Cumberbatch, E! corespondent and first cousin of actor Benedict Cumberbatch.

“Hello, Nigel, you look marvelous, darling.” purred Michelle.

“That’s because I’m looking at you, love."

They embrace and share a friendly kiss on both cheeks.

"A little sugar with my mocha always gets me up in the morning, love.”

“Oh, stop it.”

I can’t, love, you’ve already got me started.“

"Why are you here so early? you’re not due in until this afternoon for sound check.:” asked a quizzical Beyonce.

“I had an interview for the network  with the cast of "Real Housewives of Rikers Island. Since i’m in the neighborhood why not stop by.”

“Who knew a show about prison man-wives would be so incredibly popular?” said Michelle.

“Yes, well you take the momentum of the Real housewives brand, everyone’s obsession with queer culture, and mix it up with the urban grittiness of prison life and you’ve got a ratings juggernaut. This show is literally too gay to fail.”  Nigel said with a wry smirk.

“Speaking of…” free falling into cursory though.

“Where is MY personal assistant? He was supposed to come in early this morning and set up your dressing rooms.

I’ve been texting him since six to no avail.” said the liaison, who up until this point had been quietly busying himself updating the Destiny Child website. Actually, that’s what he was supposed to be doing. He’d finished all of that an hour ago. At this point he was trolling Tinder and Grinder for any hot clerks around the arena who may be cleaning out the bathrooms or working the hot dog stand.  

“So who decorated the dressing rooms?” asked Nigel

“I did,” cheered Michelle.

“Shelly, You didn’t have to do this.” said Beyonce, nonplussed.

“Just happy to help, guys."

"That’s peculiar, I just spoke with Kevin last night. Everything seemed fine. I hope nothing happened to him.” Stated Nigel with model concern.

“Kel-vin’s a really sweet guy.” said Michelle, exerting extra effort on the “elvin” in a subtle attempt to correct Nigel on his mispronunciation of the interns name.    

“Yes,” replied Nigel picking up the clue.

“Kelvin, stopped taking his Wellbutrin ever since he didn’t get that callback for the live action Jem and the Holograms movie, Truly Outrageous. Very dissonant murmurs of suicide,and not Facebook suicide, real life suicide.”

“I’m sure it will work out. Things always work out; at least for me they do.” reasoned Beyonce

“Do you like the wall draping Bey?” Asked Michelle

“I got them in Beijing. They’re fresh spun silk from virgin worms. The color is called Red Velvet.”

“Like the cake?” asked Beyonce.

“Just like the cake.” answered Michelle.

“Lets blow out these $5,000, diamond studded, champagne scented candles and adjourn to the stage.” Nigel blows out one and speaks before whistling out the other Luxury Soy Candle.

“Let’s save the fire for the stage, shall we?”

The girls traverse the corridor and Kelly lets loose a sly chortle.

“Hey guys, you ever see that movie "This is Spinal Tap? It used to come on t.v. all the time.”

“I don’t own a t.v.” Sulked Michelle.

“I own a t.v.,I mean I own like ten of them, but I’m so busy being on t.v. that I guess i really don’t have time to watch t.v.” said Beyonce

“Why do you ask?"

"There’s this scene where the band is trying to get to the stage but they keep getting lost, in like, a labyrinth of corridors. It’s hilarious” Kelly said with glee.

“Getting lost isn’t funny.” Warned Beyonce

“Getting lost is scary.” Said Michelle with a passive whine.

The girls took position and the sound engineer qued the instrumental track for the albums biggest hit; “Lose My Breath”.

Practice plodded on for an hour and it was clear the girls were out of sync since the year and some change they performed on that triumphant day the Baltimore Ravens won the shit out of Super Bowl 47.

“Alright darlings,” cringed Nigel. “this officially an Asian car crash. Let’s take a ten and regroup, yes?"

"I’ll make a coffee run. What do you want?” asked Eduardo.

“I’ll have a grande black tea with lemon and honey.” said Michelle.

“I’ll have a vente soy half calf latte; one Splenda. beckoned  Beyonce.

"I want a low-fat caramel Macchiatto, extra caramel.” replied Kelly with precocious joy.

Nigel glared at Kelly with noted incredulity.

“What?!? I’m making up for the extra caramel by getting low fat milk! balked Kelly.

Nigel exhaled dramatically, raised his trademark eyebrow, and crossed his arms in protest.

"Fine, the regular amount of caramel.” she responded with a pout.

Nigel frowned and nodded in continued discontent.

“No caramel?!”

Nigel smiled tightly and nodded in approval.

“Fine,” Kelly snapped back and smirked.

“But, after the show, I’m gonna have a caramel AND a Vanilla cappuccino.

Suddenly the overhead lights shut off leaving the girls awash in darkness. The shrieking sound of maniacal screams echoed through the arena.

As quickly as the lights wiped out; the overhead spot pierced through the sheet of onyx to reveal an upstage silhouette creeping through the shadows.  

"Help!” shrieked Michelle, reduced to tears; cradling herself on the floor. “I’ve been molested.” she babbled.

“Look!” squawked Beyonce. “There’s a mysterious silhouette lurking in the shadows!”

“Let’s get him!” Nigel rallied Eduardo; they ran to apprehend the mysterious figure.  

Eduardo and Nigel cornered and captured what appeared to be the Brooklyn Nets mascot, The Brooklyn Knight.

“Is that the Brooklyn Nets mascot, the Brooklyn Knight?” queried Kelly.

“Yes.It is.” Answered Eduardo, frankly.    

“See?"Eduardo blithely snatched the head off the anonymous violator and turned to face the appalled crowd. "It’s a mask”

Kelly interjected.

“Look guys!” she directed everyone’s attention to the unmasked marauder.

“It’s Papa Knowles”

“Daddy!” Beyonce said shocked and repulsed.

“Why are you dressed up as the Brooklyn Knight, and why are you molesting people?” she asked puzzled and disgusted.

Papa Knowles lifted his head crowned in shame. He blathered.

“I’m sorry girls, I didn’t mean to scare ya’ll and fondle Michelle. I just like to show up to ya’ll shows and push Michelle. It’s how I get my jollies these days."

"See, I told you all I was pushed at the Super Bowl.” said Michelle defensively.

“I really didn’t want to touch you in your nether regions Michelle, I just got disassembled in the darkness.” He whimpered.

“So it wasn’t you who cut the lights off, Daddy”

“No It was not,Bey. Now I really should go because this is more embarrassing than that time I got caught impregnating another woman while still being married to your mother. Can I be your manager again Bey?"

"No, daddy.”

“Well can you call me a cab?”

Just then the lights went black again and a tremulous baritone polluted the stage. When the lights came to, Papa Knowles lay slain in Nigel’s arms.

“Oh, my gawd, he’s, he’s, he’s dead!"

Oddly, the women bellowed this refrain in perfect three part harmony.

Before the women had a chance to mourn their former mentor, a thick tide of smoke came pouring out from the audience. Beyonce noted the pungent aroma.

"It smells like burning pine needles.” Said Beyonce.

“It smells like Snoop Dogg’s dressing room. Said Kelly.

"It smells like the BET Awards” Said Nigel.

“It smell like weed.” said Eduardo.

“Bong, Bong, my luscious song birds, what it do beautiful?”

crooned method Man.

“Oh my goodness, It’s the Wu-Tang Clan!” said Michelle.

All eight remaining members stood arms akimbo, blunts in mouth, side by side, triumphantly.

“What are you guys doing here?"

"We were in town shooting a new Tyler Perry movie,” intoned a severely herbalized Raekwon.

"Medea Joins the Wu-Tang Clan.“ Howled a blazed out Ghostface Killa.

"Yeah we got a summons on a terrestrial plane that your chi was being disrupted, so we teleported over here to to dissect the math, my queen."

"See that’s why you my favorite Rza, cause everything you say is confusing, but it sounds lyrical, so it must be poetry.” said Kelly, coquettishly.  

“Well we have a show tonight and I shouldn’t have to perform under these conditions. I’m light skinned; I woke up like this.” Petitioned Beyonce.

“My experience as an Inspector has taught me that the best way to apprehend a culprit is to divide into groups and explore the area in quadrants, that way we cover the most amount of ground in a shorter amount of time.” Theorized the Rebel INS a.k.a. Inspeckta Deck.“

"Are you really even an actual inspector, like my first cousin Benedict Cumberbatch, star of the British series, Sherlock?"

"No, but I’ve seen all the Scooby Doo mysteries.”

“How about the Shaggy Doo spin off?”

“Those too.”

“Alright people, listen to this man!"

The Inspeckta divided everyone into clusters and assigned them to different sections of the Barclay Center. They all splintered off and left Papa Knowles festering on the stage in a puddle of his own blood and guts. Eventually morphing into twinkling embers and ascending into the rafters.

Although everyone was supposed to  be hunting down the cloaked culprit, mainly they all just got high and passed out by the concession stand. Beyonce woke up separated from her group and worried the solitude would mark her as easy prey. She trundled the hollow corridor in search of her musical companions. She pressed past a set of doors and tripped over a prop surfboard. When she regained her footing she stood up and locked eyes with:

"Ol’ Dirty Bastard!!”

“How do you do, Miss Beyonce?”

“Oh, shit, ODB, What are you doing here?”

“Oh you know what this is.We in Brooklyn, I’m from Brooklyn, even in death I muthafuckin rep Brooklyn to the fullest!!”

“Are you the one that’s sabotaging our show and killed my daddy?”

“I don’t even understand what you is asking me right now, and what is you doing wit dat surfboard?”

“Yonce blushed and dropped the surfboard. The blunt thud temporarily ceased the awkward silence and offered a chance for Yonce to recover.

"Would you be interested in performing a guest verse during our show tonight?”

"But I'ma ghost. How is you gonna pass some shit like that off to the crowd?“

"We’ll tell everyone you’re a hologram, like they did with 2 Pac at  Coachella.”

“Yeah, Baby, I’m wit it, but I’m a spirit trapped in the astral plane. In order to cross over to the lucid world I must leave your cerebrum and enter through your body.”

“O.k….Wait. Enter my body; is this ghost sex?”

“No! My inserting myself in your scrumptious body has nothing at all to do with sex.”

“O.k.,Well I guess it’s O.K. then.”

Beyonce takes the ODB into her body and his aura causes her body to rupture and shake.  

As her body continues to tremble she feels a firm grip on her shoulders rattling her back to consciousness.

“Bey, It’s like ten minutes to curtain. Are you o.k. to perform?

Beyonce took a second to consider if what just conspired actually happened or if it was just a by product of too much Loud.

The curtain rose to thunderous applause as the overhead announcer introduced the sensual sirens of R&B.

"Ladies and gentlemen I’d like to introduce ya’ll to a very special and unexpected guest…"

The crowds excitement could barely be contained the volume  threatening to reduce the Barkley Center to rubble.

The uproar bled beyond the building, pouring out into the parking lot causing cars and their alarms to rattle and hum. Among the parked vehicles sat a late model yellow checker cab with its wheel man standing astride the driver side door frame. He wore a tattered army jacket, dark aviator sunglasses, and his hair was cut into a Mohawk. It was ancillary Wu-Tang Clan member Cappadonna . He waived his arm in the air and a giant blunt shot from his sleeve. He lit the "L” and inhaled deeply. He moved to the trunk of the cab and opened it up. Kelvin was hog tied and crying on top of a spare tire. Cappuccino, as he was sometimes known, blew second hand blunt smoke into Kelvins face and slammed the trunk. He jumped back into the drivers seat and took another pull of the blunt before turning on the ignition and driving off into the twilight.

1 NOTE

DESTINYSCHILD

WUTANGCLAN

FANFICTION

BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH

SCOOBYDOO

SHORTSTORY

DESTINYSCHILDVSWUTANGCLAN

BROOKLYN

BARCLAYCENTER

MARCH 7, 2014

10:43 PM

mea culpa by mike smith

I heard you got yourself a new man, and living in a cabin upstate in the woods. You always hated the smog of the city,baby. I hope the fresh air is treating you good.

1 NOTE

FLASHFICTION

SHORTSTORY

EXTREME

POETRY

POEM

CREATIVE WRITING

MARCH 4, 2014

9:57 PM

Do what thou wilt by: Mike Smith

She always peeling my scabs for blood

shes always testing me to see what im scared of

she don’t believe in God

she’s always on her knees but

she’s not praying to me

I saw her lurk in the dark

she’s got a sample of

my specimen in his and her dolls

She wears a mask like Norma Jean

She sleeps with one eye open and she keeps it on me

She’s Madonna post 1993

She’s a scene

She thinks she’s Alister Crowley

She’s reality T.V.

She howls during sex

She talks with an S

She’s my Queen

So if you see me in a graveyard mumbling a poem

by a bard back from 1719

just recognize it’s not me

i’m possessed by my bitch

oh my Lord

She worships Satan