#I MISS CLEM'S WINE CORNER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[babygirlsincars]

It's been so long...

Since last I've seen my son

[coella-cox]

Oh a lot of discourse™️ about that SM episode and…

I don’t think screaming meals even knows what they want to be or do (lowkey they kind of just want to make money? or views?) they seem stuck between being a podcast about racing, or a podcast with racing drivers about whatever, or just being boys talking into a microphone (imo…they aren’t interesting enough to do the last one and that’s why no one listens to clems wine corner). And they keep trying to anticipate what their female audience would want (and missing horribly) while also clearly trying to move beyond that audience into…idk (and they don’t either).

I’m in America and regardless of drive to survive no one really know about f1- and believe me when I say NO ONE knows about Indy car (and mind you Clem drives f2…) so the boys can do with that information what they will. But ultimately I think they need to accept that they do a VERY niche thing and so their audience might never expand beyond niche. Obviously it’s hard being in content creation and seeing people like Yung Filly dabble in Motorsport while being an entertainment/content mongul but Yung Filly is…better at it? Lol

Anyways one day I will write the essay about how many men don’t view women/girl fans as legitimate and how they simultaneously discredit the fans support and also crave it (but they want it from other men! bc that legitimizes it to them bc men don’t usually think of women as fully complex and intelligent peo- [GUNSHOT])

Also… there is an underlying tension of like social/class divides between the boys and their potential audience and as a spectator…you can feel the tension simmering lol

And Rory has to spend hours editing podcasts down to absolutely nothing bc of this underlying tension and idk babes…let the mask slip and just adopt critical thinking skills

Idk be open to changing and growing and being corrected and they won’t have to worry about being canceled or whatever it is that they think of when they say “politically correct” on the pod

[oscar-piastri]

Sorry in advance, this is a bit long but after seeing your post about it I wanted to add a few thing.

I’d say out of the last three episodes the Jamie Chadwick one was the best. You can definitely tell the difference between when they really know the guests and when they just know of them. I personally think they are more comfortable answering questions than asking them bc with some ot the things they’ve asked they have no right complaining about media/press questions being generic and boring.

The podcast on Lissie’s Youtube channel was much better than the one on SM, I think that one is worth watching. They were talking about what it’s like growing up racing etc and got sentimental at times which was nice, it’s good to see a more vulnerable side of them I guess? Makes them more relatable.

I don’t know what they’ve come across or experienced to make so many comments about the female viewership and interactions with female fans but it just makes it seem like they’re only attracting certain types of people. And that says more about them than us so idk. They are either ignoring our feedback or it isn’t registering.

I like The Side Pod because Callum is involved and it’s somewhat sensible. Clem’s Wine Corner is more of a hit or miss, some episodes I enjoyed very much and others were a bit questionable. They need to either stop with certain comments on the main pod or Rory needs to start doing a better job at editing. It’s really starting to put people off and if they lose their ‘female viewers’ they lose 95% of their viewers soo yeah 🤷🏻‍♀️

izzjzkzj omg thank u i’m taking notes!!! then i’ll probably be watching those then!

yeah i prefer the side pod because it’s actually more related to racing and it’s short too so less minutes to fuck things up 🙃🤡

poor rory tho, he has to manage the SM podcast + side pod when they have episodes + deal with the entire chasing the dream and all of his projects on the side. Like idk how he can still do it all (i mean the quality of chasing the dream went downhill real fast but still, dude is doing too much stuff)

ur last sentence just ended me this is so true 😭

[ijustwant2write]

Girls Change Everything-Dimitri Mitropoulos x Reader

(GIF credit to @mrpeteparker)

Requested by anonymous: 'Could you do a Dimitri Mitropoulos from Riot Club imagine where she's an American that Dimitri likes to flirt/banter with and he obviously has real feelings for that the Riot Club tries to manipulate his feelings for her and it causes him to stand up to them proving how deeply he cares for her?'

Characters: Dimitri Mitropoulos x Reader, mentions of the club

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, mention of sex, vulgar talk about women, arguing, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dimitri casually leaned against the bar, waiting to be served. He was bored, he didn't want to speak about new club rules, he just wanted to get pissed with his mates. It was the end of a long week, uni had been piling a shit tonne of work of him, and all he needed was a drink... And maybe a shag.

"Glass of pinot please." a distinct voice said next to Dimitri at the bar.

He turned his head, eyes locking on the beautiful woman beside him. She stood tall, flicking her hair back over her shoulder as she passed the server the money for her drink. Dimitri angled himself towards her, turning on his charm.

"An American," he started,"how exotic."

The girl's head snapped towards him, before smiling and taking a drink."The Greek calling America exotic? Really?"

"You know who I am?"

"I've heard of you and your group. It's all anyone talks about really. Gets annoying."

He hummed. She hadn't bit at him, it was banter."Well, maybe I should enlighten you, tell you if these stories are true or not."

"Won't your friends mind?"

"Fuck them."

The two of them were tucked away on a small table in a corner, not afraid to be close to each other. There were laughs erupting from them, playful shoves, and at all times there was eye contact. They didn't care who was around them, they knew people were watching, itching to gossip with their friends the next day. Uni could be so boring, all work no play, so the tiniest change on socialising sparked everyone's interests.

"So you left your family to come here?" Dimitri asked before drinking.

(Y/N) nodded."How could I refuse? Obviously I miss them all, but this is an amazing opportunity. And it'll benefit everyone in the long run."

"Well, guess I'll just have to keep an eye on you." he leaned back, his arm already around the back of her chair.

"What for?"

"Make sure you stay out of trouble."

"What if I enjoy trouble?"

"Then you'll actually make my life a little easier."

"What, because you are trouble?"

"Only if you want me to be."

"Dims, mate, you coming back st any point?, Or should we expect you in the morning?" They were interrupted by Guy, who was smiling but only out of politeness.

"Guy, this is (Y/N), (Y/N) this is Guy, my best mate." Dimitri introduced them, though there was no brightness behind his words.

"Nice to meet you." she said.

"Yeah." Guy replied."So..."

"Mate, just fill me in tomorrow yeah?"

"It's not really a club meeting without all the members."

"James will just speak about the usual shit he says, I'm not missing out on anything."

"Dimitri, if you need to go, we can reschedule." (Y/N) piped up.

"Yes, thank you (Y/N), how thoughtful." Guy was beginning to get pissed off.

"No, I don't need to do anything." Dimitri said.

"Dims, the girl is letting you go."

"It's (Y/N), remember, I'm not just a girl."

"Well, to him you are."

Guy had silenced them. (Y/N) scoffed, already downing the rest of her wine and grabbing her bag. The British were either cowards and hid their true feelings, or too blunt and were just plain arse holes.

"No, (Y/N), don't listen to him." Dimitri went after her, ignoring the glares being sent by his friend.

(Y/N) stopped outside the pub, confusing Dimitri as she began laughing."Oh I love annoying British people, you're all wound up so tightly."

"What?"

"I think your friend was getting a little jealous back there. Give me your phone."

He quickly passed it to her, unlocked, watching as she typed in her number. God, this girl was fast.

"Text me when you're free. I'll let you get back to your friends before they all come and throw a tantrum. See ya Dims." she briefly pecked his lips, walking away without waiting for another word from him.

He watched her as she left, finally going back inside when he heard his name being called. As soon as this fucking meeting was over, his attention would be back on (Y/N).

She liked him. She had always preferred the confident boys, even the cockiness; but she believed it was because she could handle it, and it was always funny to see boys squirm under a woman's confidence. Her smile lit up when he finally messaged her. It was stupid, she hardly knew him, but he was intriguing. Even if nothing came out of it, that's what uni was for, she wasn't going to waste her life mourning over what could have been.

"Dimitri, that was a quick response." (Y/N) happily sighed as she opened her dorm door for him. It was the next morning, the usual Sunday feeling sinking into everyone.

"I don't like to waste time." he started to let himself in, until (Y/N) put a hand on his chest, pushing him back.

"Oh, I don't think we're quite there yet."

"Oh, right, I just thought-"

"I need some coffee before we get into all that."

Everyone was surprised when they saw Dimitri and (Y/N) hanging out multiple times around campus. It was no secret that they had fucked, and just like that people assumed she was just another girl on Dimitri's list. But here they were, enjoying lunches together, walking each other to their lectures, even studying together (though they never did get through much revision).

"Dimitri, what the fuck is going on with you and Miss America?" Harry asked.

"Piss off Villiers." Dimitri sighed.

"Tell us, is she really that good of a fuck?"

"It's not all about fucking you know Villiers."

The club laughed out loud, shoving Dimitri around.

"What happened to 'girls for now, girls for later'?" Toby sniggered.

"Some of us aren't idiots mate."

"She's quite a free spirit, isn't she?" George added, trying to be nice.

"Meaning she's into kinky stuff." Guy suggested.

"Well she's definitely not getting that with Dimitri." Harry said.

Dimitri immediately snapped at him."Why not?"

"Because you couldn't handle it."

"Right, I'm fucking amazing at fucking, alright? And at least I'm not having to go get checked every weekend, I've seen some of the birds you drag back with you."

Tension was rising within the group, some boys wondering if this was actually serious and others hiding their laughter. Harry scoffed, focusing on the beer in front of him. Dimitri knew this would happen, and it fucked him off. Like all the lads, he had messed around with girls, never taking them seriously, and as much as it sickened him to be so cliche, (Y/N) was different. He wasn't annoyed by her after they had sex, he didn't want her leaving immediately. At first he thought it was because he wanted to go another round, but when he found himself getting breakfast with her, a new feeling ha developed.

"They just don't understand." Dimitri whined, enjoying laying his head in (Y/N)'s lap. He found himself venting to her as soon as she stepped into his room.

"They'll come round to it, once they stop messing around."

"Well, boys will be boys."

She shook her head."No, that's not an excuse. Always hated that saying, makes you lot get away with anything."

"Sorry."

"Oh, no, Dims I didn't mean it like that. There are some horrible men in the world though."

"Well, you won't have to deal with them whilst I'm around. Though I'm sure you were dealing with them long before I came along."

"You're right, but it's much nicer having someone next to you."

Someone briefly knocked on the door before letting themselves in. The couple watched as Guy hesitated in the doorway, not realising (Y/N) would be there.

"What do you want?" Dimitri plainly said as he sat up.

"Can I come in? I want to talk."

"Actually (Y/N) and I were-"

"Dimitri," (Y/N) interrupted,"let him in."

Guy closed the door as Dimitri gestured for him to clem in. The men stood opposite each other, though there was no eye contact.

Guy started."Mate, I'm sorry."

Surprised, Dimitri finally looked at him."For what?"

"For all those things we were saying about your relationship. It was wrong. Just cause you've got a girlfriend doesn't mean you're any different than what you were before."

"Oh... Right."

"I was just....You weren't around as much."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, laughing at their awkwardness."Oh my god, would you two just admit you missed each other and make up? Come on, it's been obvious. Guy, you've been jealous that Dimitri has been spending most of his time with me, and Dimitri, you've missed your friend. You know Guy, he actually talked about you a lot-"

"Alright (Y/N)." Dimitri stopped her before she went too far.

Guy chuckled."She really says it how it is, doesn't she?"

The three of them smiled, and (Y/N) watched as the two friends hugged, patting each other on the back as men did. Picking up her handbag, she clasped a hand on each of their shoulders.

"Right then, I say we celebrate this forgiveness in the pub. Perhaps Guy can tell me something about Dimitri that I don't know yet?"

Guy was eager to dive into embarrassing stories, already looping her arm through his. Dimitri struggled to keep up as they practically ran off, dreading to think what stories Guy could be telling her. He had wanted them to get along, but this wasn't what Dimitri had in mind.

[marvelousmatt]

The Accidental Comedy of Matt Berry

The star of IFC’s detective-series spoof ‘Year of the Rabbit,’ famed for his booming voice and over-the-top faces, never set out to be funny

Matt Berry as Detective Inspector Rabbit in 'Year of the Rabbit.'  Ben Meadows/IFC

If you know Matt Berry from his most famous roles — such as The IT Crowd’s idiot boss Douglas Reynholm, Toast of London’s pompous struggling actor Steven Toast, or the preening and lascivious vampire Laszlo on What We Do in the Shadows — talking to him over the phone is sort of like meeting his un-evil twin. Where his characters are outrageous and inappropriate, Berry is circumspect and gentlemanly. While they pronounce every word as if they’re doing Shakespeare in the Park, with a ponderous theatricality, his signature rich baritone comes over the line from London sounding muted by comparison. It’s as though he’s playing the straight man in a sketch of his own life.

Whatever absurd and profane notions he has rattling around in his head, Berry saves them for his work. His latest offering, IFC’s Year of the Rabbit (a collaboration among Berry, producer Ben Farrell, and writers Andy Riley and Kevin Cecil), is a send-up of the period detective shows that are a staple of British television. Set in Victorian times, it centers on his titular character, Rabbit, a cranky copper who bumbles through every episode but slyly solves the whodunit in the end — a kind of gruff, English Columbo in a waistcoat. In the “why not” fashion typical of Berry’s comedy, the character is missing an eyebrow (a trait the show repeatedly explains away with the intentionally unconvincing line that it was chewed off by a dog last Christmas). He’s named Rabbit — his actual first name, with no surname — not because of any correlation with, say, the Chinese calendar, but because… well, just because.

“His father couldn’t be bothered giving any of the kids any normal names, so he just named them after animals and then left them outside a church,” Berry says matter-of-factly, as if Rabbit and his father are real. Pressed on the matter, he adds, “We have a huge history over here of these shows, Agatha Christie and stuff, and they all have these names, Inspector This and That. I just wanted to do something stupid with that — give him an animal name and not anything else. So he really is as earthy as you can get in that way. There’s nothing fancy about him at all.”

Rabbit is an inveterate boozehound with a colorful vocabulary. He beats up a schoolteacher on career day to demonstrate interrogation techniques to the children. He tells his rookie partner that the way to keep warm during a wintertime stakeout is to piss himself. He describes the London of his day as “a rat eating its own babies. Babies made of shit. And once it’s eaten its own shit babies, it shits them out again.” He is paired, reluctantly, with two bright-eyed and bushy-tailed colleagues to form a crack investigative team, a juxtaposition which only underscores his baser qualities.

“He’s basically trying to hide the fact that he’s incredibly hungover and not firing on all cylinders,” Berry says. “Whereas his younger sidekicks won’t be, because when you’re that young, you know, you get over a hangover by like 10 o’clock in the morning. I wanted him to be dull, in terms of reactions to things, but effective.”

Robert Bathurst, Matt Berry, and Harry Peacock in Toast of London. Photo Credit: Kuba Wieczorek/IFC/CH4

Ineptitude and buffoonery are much more the calling cards of Steven Toast, whose massive ego blinds him to his own failings. He is an oblivious object of mockery at the hands of his voiceover producers, a pair of douchey hipsters named Clem Fandango and Danny Bear, and his mistress, Mrs. Purchase (wife of Toast’s acting nemesis Ray “Bloody” Purchase), looks eternally bored during their trysts. His long-suffering agent has to force him to become a laxative pitchman, yet he complains that she’s not scoring him Oscar-caliber roles.

If Toast is the character closest to Berry’s heart, it’s for good reason. Despite a brand of humor that seems firmly rooted in the British tradition — the surreality and silliness of Python, the cartoonish prurience of Benny Hill — Berry, 45, maintains that he wasn’t especially interested in comedy growing up. He cites as his primary influence not comedic greats such as Peter Sellers or contemporaries like Steve Coogan, but “straight actors, people that normally weren’t trying to be funny.” The more “mannered” and “self-important” the star, Berry says, the funnier he found them. The line to Toast is clear — especially in his puffed-up diction and bizarrely exaggerated pronunciation of ordinary words (such as his praise of guest-star Jon Hamm’s “charismaaaaaaaeeeeeee”). Imagine the famous outtakes of a drunk Orson Welles filming a Paul Masson wine commercial, and you’re on the right track.

Berry’s career in comedy came as a complete surprise to him. He grew up in the hamlet of Bromham in Bedfordshire, about two hours north of London, in a wholly unartistic family who had “normal, decent jobs,” he says. “My mom was a nurse, my sister went into law — nothing like what I ended up doing.” Still, his parents were totally supportive — worried, but supportive — as he stumbled through temp gigs and patches of unemployment as a young man.

He was far more interested in painting and music — and, in fact, today is an accomplished musician who’s recorded eight studio albums (prog rock-ish, inflected with funk) as well as the scores and themes to numerous TV series, including Toast. That show’s frequent musical interludes, gonzo song parodies a la Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, speak to Berry’s true comedic beginnings. In between stints at the London Dungeon — a haunted-house experience where actors play figures from gruesome corners of the city’s past, like Jack the Ripper — he managed to book solo gigs as a singer-songwriter. But he found that spiking his performances with humor won over a crowd.

Natasia Demetriou and Berry in What We Do In the Shadows.  Byron Cohen/FX

“I was playing before comedians, and the gigs just seemed to go quicker and better if I put some comedy into the songs or the bits in between the songs,” Berry says. “I only did it so I’d fit in with what was going on after. Then I really got to like it.”

Fellow performers Richard Ayoade and Matthew Holness noticed his act, and cast Berry in a horror/sci-fi spoof they created called Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace. From there, his television career exploded, with recurring roles in several series before his breakout in 2007 with The IT Crowd. Despite a nomination for “best newcomer” at that year’s British Comedy Awards and a 2015 BAFTA for Best Male Performance in a Comedy for Toast, Berry insists he doesn’t have any particular aptitude for the form, and draws a blank when it comes to defining his style. Mostly, he chalks it up to timing (“Whether it’s music or comedy, that’s the most important thing for me”) — as well as a lack of training.

“I’m not held back by any sort of rules and regulations in terms of performance,” he says. “I’ll just do what feels natural, and because nobody’s said in the past, ‘Well you can’t really do that, because of this,’ you just do it. If it works, it works, and if it doesn’t, you just try something else.”

He does acknowledge one foolproof stylistic flourish that may be deeply ingrained: a true relish for the scatological and sophomorically sexual. See: Laszlo’s vulva topiaries, or the preposterously elastic faces Toast makes while he’s shagging Mrs. P (“Hang on — my balls are about to fizzzz!”) or pleasuring himself to old-timey images of women in military uniforms. A key moment in Rabbit involves the inspector having a pocketful of dog poop.

“I suppose that’s the British toilet humorist in me,” Berry admits. “It doesn’t matter where you go in Europe, toilet humor is enjoyed by all. Being from the U.K., it’s in you, like, from birth. You know, if you’re little and people are laughing at something all around you, it kind of sticks. If it’s something that my granddad laughs at and my dad laughs at, there’s a good chance that I’ll laugh at it, too.”

[katedrakeohd]

Author's note: This is a continuation of Wacky Drabbles #5 no prompt just dinner conversation...

Just Desserts

Drake and Kate emerge from the laundry room a few minutes later. Wearing his damp bluejeans, Drake feels uncomfortable but at least he's dressed. Kate takes his hand and tugs, when he hesitates she whispers to him. “I promise to make it up to you later, now come on let's get this dinner over with.”

Drake whispers back with a grin, “I hope you're talking about dessert.”

Kate winks at him, “Yes, and I don’t mean apple pie.”

As they walk into the kitchen, Lorraine glances up from the plate she's loading up with pasta for herself. “What's that about pie? Not until you eat dinner first. You know the rules.”

Kate grins up at Drake and rolls her eyes. “You heard the Lady, no dessert until you've finished dinner.”

Drake winks back at her as he grabs his plate. “Well then it's a good thing I'm hungry.”

Stepping in behind Kate in line at the counter, Drake purposely stands a little too close. Kate sucks in a breath as she feels her body react involuntarily to his breath on the back of her neck. She's glad her blouse has long sleeves to hide the goosebumps rising on her skin. Glancing over her shoulder at him, she throws a little shade to tease him.

“Back it up buddy, besides you still smell like goose.”

Drake takes a step back raising his eyebrows, trading her shade for snark. “Ouch. Fine next time I'll just let the honking goose ruin everyone's evening.”

Carol laughs, “No..no. Believe me I'm very grateful for your help with shutting him up.”

After scooping spaghetti and meatballs onto his plate, Drake grins as he sits down across the table from Kate. “See? My partner in Clem's rescue appreciates me, goose smell or not.”

Lorraine shakes her head, “Ok everyone let's all behave and enjoy our dinner.”

Kate quirks an eyebrow at Drake from across the table, he smirks back at her as she puts salad into her bowl. Let the games begin.

They all eat in silence for a few minutes and then Lorraine speaks up, “Oh Carol, didn't you bring wine home to go with dinner?”

When Carol gets up from the table to retrieve the two bottles of wine from the counter, Drake and Kate exchange a look across the table.

They've held onto their secret long enough. Kate drops a hint, “I suppose we do have something to celebrate. Drake isn't much of a wine drinker, but he's welcome to have a glass for me.”

Everyone turns to look at Lorraine when she drops her fork, “Katherine, since when do you not drink wi-…Oh my goodness, you're not serious?”

Kate nods, her eyes shining with happiness. “We are.”

Carol opens the bottle of white wine with a pop of the cork. “So you've already been to the Doctor?”

Lorraine holds out her wine glass for Carol to fill. Drake holds his out as well as he answers. “No, but we have an appointment scheduled for when we go back to Valtoria.”

“Valtoria? I thought your country was called Cordonia.” Lorraine says looking over to Drake.

“Oh it is. Valtoria is the name of our Duchy.” Kate answers for him.

Lorraine twirls spaghetti around her fork. “I still can't believe my little Kath- ..Kate is a Duchess. You've come a long way from the girl I knew, making mud pies in the backyard, all pigtails and missing her front teeth.”

Carol chuckles from the other end of the table, “And I can't believe Lorraine is going to be a grandmother.”

Lorraine frowns at Carol, “Oh hush you, not that I doubt that Kate's pregnant, but I choose to live in denial until I see baby pictures. I'm too young to be a grandmother.”

Drake spears a meatball with his fork, “That's what my Mom said wh- ..”

Lorraine interrupts him, “Hold on a minute. You told his Mother first?”

“I thought you were in denial Mom. No we haven't told her yet. His sister surprised her with a little boy of her own.” Kate chuckles.

Drake, who has his mouthful, nods in agreement. Pointing his fork at Kate.

“Ok well, as long as you told me about your baby first, that's all that matters.” Lorraine says, picking up her wine glass.

Carol turns the conversation off of babies for a moment, “So Kate, where did you first meet your dashing Duke?”

Glancing across the table at her husband, Kate wonders which part to answer first. The Duke part or the Drake part.

Drake answers for her, “Actually we met in New York city, at my best friend's bachelor party. We walked into Kate's bar, and after that all matter of chaos happened.”

Kate nearly chokes on her spaghetti. “If you mean me returning to Cordonia with you guys, well you can blame Maxwell for that.”

Drake picks up his wine glass, giving Kate a wink before bringing it to his lips. “Neither I nor Cordonia were ready for the likes of Kate.”

“I literally came in like a wrecking ball.” Kate laughs. “Breaking and stealing hearts as I went.”

Chasing the pasta around her plate, Lorraine nods. “I believe it. Kate's a firecracker when she wants to be.”

“As for the Duke part, I met him at the altar. He married a Duchess to gain his title.” Kate says.

Carol raises her eyebrows, “And how did you become a Duchess?”

“By turning down a King's proposal.” Drake answers, “He kind of gave her the Duchy as a consolation prize.”

“So you could have been Queen?” Lorraine asks incredulously.

Kate looks across the table at Drake, “I didn't want to be Queen, because I was in love with someone else.”

“Sucks to be him, but it was definitely a win win for me.” Drake says, looking up from his plate to give Kate a smoldering glance, his eyes dark.

Kate feels the heat rush to her cheeks and to her core simultaneously, ok now I'm ready for dessert. Sitting back in her chair, Kate pretends to stifle a yawn behind her napkin. “I'm so sorry. I guess I'm still on Cordonian time.”

Drake looks back down with a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. Picking up his glass of wine he tips it back and finishes it. Laying his utensils across his plate, he looks over to Lorraine with a satisfied smile. “Thank-you for dinner it was quite delicious. I miss sitting down with family like this. Between our weeks in Texas with my Mom on her ranch and this night with your hospitality we've been spoiled during our time in the U.S.”

“You spent weeks in Texas? And you give me a day?” Lorraine asks, her tone harsh.

Kate tips her head back and closes her eyes, wishing she had a glass of wine of her own right about now. When was she going to stop questioning everything we’ve done as if we were hiding things from her. She's so darn hung up on everyone's business. No wonder I couldn't wait to get out on my own after Dad left.

Drake can't help but notice Kate's frustration with her Mom's defensive nature. He glances at Carol, who just rolls her eyes at him. Time to shut down this dinner and move on. Folding his arms across his chest he turns back toward Lorraine with a stern frown.

“Yes, we were in Texas for my sister's wedding. Between the bachelor and bachelorette parties, the cattle sale and the wedding planning it took longer than we expected. Things weren't exactly under our control. This time around Kate and I were chosen to attend an Environmental Summit in Seattle as diplomats representing our country, and it was only a three day trip. We chose to spend our last day with you because Kate wanted to catch you up on the significant changes in her life. We're sorry we couldn't invite you to our wedding, Lorraine. Our engagement only lasted a month and with assassins threatening us from all sides it wasn't exactly a stress free time. We were lucky to survive the whole thing, so get off your fucking high horse and give us a break.”

Lorraine goes pale, eyes wide in shock at being put in her place. Carol raises her eyebrows, sucking in a breath. She speaks up, attempting to cut the sudden tension in the room.

“Alrighty then, shall we have pie?”

After everyone gets up from the table, bringing their dishes to the counter, Lorraine gently pulls Kate aside into the hallway.

With her eyes cast low she whispers. “I'm sorry Katherine. Please forgive me.”

Pulling her Mom into a hug, Kate whispers back. “I forgive you. I'm sorry for excluding you from such a big chapter of my life. I won't do it again.”

“I'm going to be a grandmother. I really am proud of you, you know that right?” Lorraine whispers, her eyes wet with happy tears.

Stepping back, Kate wipes tears of her own, nodding. “I know.”

“Please tell Drake I'm sorry. Since your father left I…” her face falls, unable to finish her sentence, she looks down at the floor.

“It's ok Mom, I understand.” Kate reaches out and rubs her arms, giving her a smile of encouragement. “Now come on let's get some pie before Drake and Carol eat it all.”

Lorraine chuckles, wiping her eyes again. “Just give me a moment to compose myself, Ok? I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes.”

Kate pulls her Mom into another hug, and then lets her go. “Ok.”

Lorraine turns down the hall and disappears into the powder room, and Kate sucks in a deep breath and returns to the kitchen.

Drake looks up from helping Carol load the dishwasher when Kate comes back in the room. Kate walks over and steps into his arms. Drake mumbles into her hair by her ear. “I..I'm sorry. I didn't mean to break your Mom.”

Kate steps back, slapping him on the arm. “Ow! I said I was sorry.” Drake rubs at his arm. “Don't forget that Bertrand shot me during the bachelor party.”

Carol laughs as she closes the dishwasher. “Oh my goodness you two are something else.”

Kate slips her arms around Drake's waist, he wraps his arms around her again and kisses her on top of the head. Kate chuckles as she closes her eyes and rests her cheek against his shoulder. “Oh you have no idea.”

Lorraine quietly steps into the kitchen, she clears her throat to get everyone's attention. “Um, it's getting late. So why don't we change for bed and then we'll take pie into the living room and relax a little before we retire for the night.”

Kate and Drake exchange a glance. “We don't have a change of clothes, our luggage is back in Seattle.” Kate replies.

“I’m sure we can find some sort of sleepwear for you Kate, but for Drake probably not.” Lorraine says apologetically.

Drake shrugs, “I don't usually wear pyjamas anyway.”

“You'll want your clothes laundered for tomorrow though, because you know, Clem.” Kate says.

“If you'd like, we could do the same for your clothes too Kate if you’d like.” Carol offers.

Kate looks down at her clothes, her blouse was dry clean only, but her skirt and undergarments were certainly washable. “Ok, I'll get my clothes washed too.”

Lorraine claps her hands, “Oh splendid! Alright then. I'll let you two have the master bedroom for the night. Drake you know where the laundry room is, Kate come with me and we'll find you something comfy to lounge in.”

Drake's mouth drops open as Kate, Lorraine and Carol leave him alone and go get changed for bed.

Continues here

..

Tagging:

Wacky Drabblers: @jessiembruno @brightpinkpeppercorn @jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @bobasheebaby @burnsoslow @emceesynonymroll @bbrandy2002

@qween-corgis @jlpplays1

[bloomingascension]

( @ruthlessnessisyourdesire​ @deviated-detective /  'the world's an empty place without you' / plotted starter )

Darkness has blanketed the skies above Detroit.

The building is located in the outskirts of the city, a gleaming beacon in the otherwise empty surroundings. 

Lotus walks carefully, small steps in her heeled shoes, the heels much higher than what she's used to. Glancing down, she watches in rapture as the skirt of her black and gold dress swishes with her every step. She takes a deep breath, fixing her delicate golden mask, and follows her family inside.

The ballroom is like nothing Lotus has ever seen before.  

People in ballgowns and suits mill around the room, their ornate masks covering their face. Clinking of wineglasses, hushed voices whispering, gossiping, and sounds of joyous laughter fill the air as the crowd mingle. Music plays, and Lotus's eyes stray to the dance floor, where pairs sway and waltz, the thrum of instruments guiding their rhythm and movements.

The vision looks almost ethereal, like something out of a dream, underneath the golden glow of the grand chandelier hanging above them.

And yet.

She does not miss the dark red liquid, thick and swirling in wineglasses, smelling of snuffed life. And if she listens carefully, she can hear frightened screams from below; cut short as the victims are torn apart.

Her gloved hands grasp her skirt, clenching the soft material. Lotus has no delusions. Underneath all the glitz and glamor, the everlasting beauty and the promises of immortality, lie savage beasts. Monsters.

And she is one of them.

"Not your 'thing', I take it?" says William. Her brother grins down at her, and she can only imagine how lost she looks.

"I've been a shut-in since I...you know." Lotus gestures vaguely. "Suddenly being here is just..."

'Here' being a fancy masquerade ball, attended by vampire elites and possibly royalty. She grimaces. Oh, if only her powers have manifested. She wants to disappear, away from here.

William claps her on the back, making her stumble. If she were still human, she's sure that she would've toppled to the floor.

She swallows, eyes darting across the room, taking in all the windows and possible exits. She intends to keep herself as close to her family as possible, but it seems that staying together in this kind of event proves impossible.

Her sister, Daisy, waves at somebody in the crowd. With a wink, she parts for them, nearly tripping over herself in her giddiness.

Her sire, Hummel, is next. He opens his mouth to say something--maybe to warn them not to get into trouble--when several men accost him. Dark, matching uniforms, and their masks are silver. Lotus can pick up a brief, "A moment, Hummel." before he is dragged away.

William is no different. It's no secret that he has a lover--Lotus catches the sight of platinum blonde hair, a soft hand reaching for his arm, and he disappears into the crowd.

Clem has already gone, wandered off to who knows where.

Now what?

Dodging the crowd of people around her, Lotus makes her way to the corner of the room. There she leans against the wall, sighing. For the past few months she's spent most of her time in her room, alone. Suddenly being thrust into a party like this, with so many people...

She feels a heavy weight settle into her stomach, at the same time a waiter stops in front of her, carrying glasses of blood. Lotus swallows. It takes her a shamefully short moment of hesitation to pick one up. She brings it to her lips.

It tastes savory; almost sweet, but with a sharp tang of heat that warms her throat. Wine in the bloodstream. She swirls it around her glass, the thick flow of crimson mesmerizing in her eyes.

[justinjohn]

A New York State of Mind. 2.18.18

I’ve been out of NYC for about 3-4 months now. 

It’s been an insane two years. I feel like I’ve just woken from a coma, but in which I was awake and functioning but operating like one of those cockroaches that’s been taken over by a zombie wasp, maneuvering through the world but without free will. You know that feeling? “Automaton mode”? That was me for like the last several years– just sort of going through the motions, staring at the ceiling, waiting for it to be over, wondering where the remote is, if the Handmaid’s Tail is on yet. 

It’s taken me months of questioning myself, my identity, my dreams, my life, and doing the ‘Okay, so I’m 33 now - I have, like, how many good years before I am too decrepit to fly?” questioning, which I guess is premature, unless like me, you’re convinced there’s a terminal illness brewing inside you at all times just waiting to emerge. (Thank you @WebMD.)

So as I sit here with a blanket on my lap on this reflective Sunday, staring at the broken tortilla chips littering the carpet that missed my mouth last night and empty glass of wine on the coffee table, I thinking about “what’s different now?” And I realized that the longer you live in New York, it changes. It morphs. Sometimes for the better, and in my case, sometimes not. 

When you’re in New York in your twenties, the passage of time doesn’t exist as a concept: you’re too focused on work, Tinder, trying to not throw up in the cab on the way home, doing ‘brunch’ as a novelty thing with sunglasses on the whole time and bitching about how slow people walk on sidewalks. It’s this hubris ‘freedom of youth’, a 6-year alcohol-slide of fun after college that spits you out at 30 when you wake up with your first 3-day hangover you didn’t know was possible and the realization that three of your friends moved away for jobs, pregnancy, and ‘other pursuits’.

Except at 30 in New York, you’re like, “What other pursuits?” Other pursuits don’t exist in the lexicon of a die-hard New Yorker, so you just think everyone else is a cop-out for leaving, like those people who go home at 11:30 PM at a really good party, and you keep going because on the island of Manhattan, everyone is dancing and there’s no bar time. 

Except then, like me, you wake up a few years later and you realize that you’re still at the party but in a stupor in the corner, and the girl you used to hook up with 10 years ago is now a lesbian and 40% of the party has departed. Once you climb in mid- to late- thirties in New York and look around, 90% of your friends are still single, some are starting to go insane, and you find $160,000 in New York gets you a 650-sq foot one bedroom, you’re sort of like, “Wait, where’s my brownstone and executive husband who is going to surprise me with a ticket to the opera?” And in my case, I sort of realized, I was the one deluding myself. As you get older in New York, the experience centers more around a good bagel on a Saturday morning, runs along the river, more adult-like meetings that don’t end in someone doing coke in a bathroom stall. Seeing your friends’ baby and then calling your friends to talk shit about her.  For me, it included a constant state of exhaustion due to always feeling like I had to be productive at every waking second of my life, low-buzzing anger against tourists and crowds in any context whatsoever, and an undying fear of cockroaches. I lived a self-righteously independent lifestyle that required the existence of no one else, and I saw that going nowhere good. It was a moment when I realized, “Does this just continue until I die?” 

Retail changed. Fashion changed. I started to like dogs again. My sister had a baby. I was tired of flying all over the country and sleeping on hotel pillows that smelled like someone else’s hair. I stopped going out after work 5x a week. And restaurants seemed all overpriced with mediocre food. And the rest of the country was getting all the same places. I was realizing more and more that what made NYC special in my twenties just didn’t have the same sparkle.

My friends were mostly gone. My life had become a smaller vortex in a way I didn’t expect: marked by dinners the same people, the same restaurants, and I started to go to places I used to frequent that became younger versions of themselves for the ‘new class’ of young Manhattanites. And yet I still had only a partial set of dishes, no oven in my apartment, and when it would rain, the water would drip through my bathroom ceiling onto my toilet. I started to run out of bars if I saw I was out past 2 PM, and living in 300 square feet was just starting to feel more like a cage but with pre-war accents. And those nights of just going to Broadway shows on my own that I imagined? I did it once and I felt like that 85-year old gay man who loves musicals so much he goes to ‘show tunes’ night at the bar on Mondays to sing Bernadette Peters and people are like, “Clem has been coming here since 2006.”  So, no. That ended.

The construct of New York itself, as an intimidating, incomprehensible frontier, had withered; it wasn’t a playground for fun like it used to be, but rather now a place of subsisting where I now had to transition from “NYC” to “adulthood”, to real life, in a way I never thought possible, which grew in volume by the day until I couldn’t drown it out anymore. The days of taking subway rides to challenging jobs with fun dinner plans and a possible reckless night ahead had been laid to rest. Now, I was in the game of back waxing, face masks, and 11 AM body attack classes on Sundays, wondering if I should finally try to make my relationship work.. A word not in my lexicon in my 20s.

I had come to a moment in my life where I had to question: do I cling to this ideal of what I imagine New York is forever, or is there something behind the curtain of life I am missing in the process of being addicted to this pursuit?

Sometimes what we want is not what we need, and very often those things diametrically oppose one another. I wanted: fashion, money, status, clout, a big apartment, exotic travel.  I need: someone home with me, possibly a dog, good food, music, writing, adventure, family. 

Weird how simple it is, no?

Manhattan, to me in my twenties, was an eschewing of life and its convention, an escape from the imposition of social standards, freedom. And it was. But then you realize in your thirties: we are all actually just human. And the vulnerability of humanity rises above any place we choose to live. The need for love and socialization, to desire to co-habitate and be with friends and family (and for some to pro-create) will rise about the context of any city and its wonderful, sophisticated distractions. 

New York is a state of mind.

It hasn’t been easy. In four months I’ve almost moved back twice, like some Stockholm syndrome, this magnet of promise of a life that once was, of relevance and excitement, which is now a proverbial urn filled with the ashes of fabulous memories we will retell over drinks, which periodically pop up on my facebook feed as embarrassing face-palm reminders of my behavior.

I’ve been forced to look at life in a bigger way, beyond ‘Manhattan’,  and in hopes that I haven’t broken our relationship for good. 

And so it is after 10 years of fashion, two moves, that I am trying to now rediscover life in all of its new meaning. It’s weird and hard and yet kind of fun and I’m doing my best to learn the ropes. I hope I hit my stride soon.

---

Please follow, share, like, or email!

Put on your google reader ! <3

INSTAGRAM: Justinthecity_

Email: justinthecityblog@gmail.com

[we-are-richmond]

No Rest E4 C2

This could’ve been a lot better written...but oh well

 I looked at the woman wide eyed, and in fear. The pit? What was the pit?! The woman called Bridgette earlier grabbed my arms, causing me to gasp loudly. "NO!" I exclaimed, struggling against the woman. The bandit leader looked down at me unamused as I struggled to get free. "LET ME GO!" I shouted, yanking one arm free. The woman let out a loud yelp as I swung my elbow into her face. When she let me go, I ran forward panting. I had to get away. The leader growled angrily at my attempt, pulling out her gun.  "Look out kid!" Andy shouted. I whipped around panicked, and a sudden force sent me to the ground. A pained gasp escaped my lip, looking around frantically to figure out what just happened. The side of my head felt sticky, and my ear hurt. Was I shoot in the side of the head?  The bandit leader stomped over to me, clutching her gun. "You going one way or another you little shit." She growled, swinging her gun at my head, knocking me out cold.  "Is he breathing?" "I don't know. Kid was stupid to attack Alice like that." "Make sure he lives, we all know Ivanova won't be happy if she doesn't get her pit fight." "Probably should've kept that other woman alive, the one Nicholas shoot yesterday. She looked like she would have been a good one."  "Ah...wha..?" I whimpered, my head throbbing in pain. Slowly I began to open my eyes, the brown orbs observing the area around me. I was in a RV of sorts, and I almost hoped I was back at that dumb campsite.  Andy and Clint arguing about vegetables. The kids running around the lake, splashing each other. Jade tinkering with her truck. Liam would come up behind her, Jack in her arms, laughing and giggling. The woman would get off, smiling at her family. Joan would smile at the children, stepping out the RV with a cake in her arms. I'd stand there, watching the everyone live. Clementine would walk over, taking a seat besides me.  And then I'd see Mari climbing out of her text, taking a seat across from me, holding her cassette player. Kate would sit besides her, braiding my little sisters hair. Over by the forest line I could see uncle Javi catching with dad. Dad would look at Javi, wrapping an arm around his brother. Uncle Javi grinned, ruffling my dads hair.  Ava walked over to me and Clem, AJ resting in her arms. The small baby giggled, reaching out for Clementine. She grinned, getting up, taking the boy in her arms. Ava chuckled, patting Clem on top of the head. Clem beamed, getting up from her spot besides me. She made her way over to the bench.  Eleanor and Tripp smiled at the girl, waving. Tripp had an arm wrapped around Eleanor, while the small woman had both hands resting on her belly. The large man grinned, pecking his love on the face. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Conrad stepping over, two wine glasses in his hand. Francine smiled at her love, getting up from the grass.  A whimper escaped my throat from both the pain and the thought of them. Tears burned at my eyes, and I broke. I broke down like a complete baby. I missed my sister so much. I wanted Kate come back. I needed my dad to come back!  My senses were brought back wildly, when a hand struck it self across my face. I looked wide eyed in panic, staring at the woman before me. As if my head didn't hurt enough as it already did. The woman I had hit before hand, glared down at me. "Get up ya little shit. It's time to get ya ready for the pit." She growled out.  Within seconds I was lifted back up to my feet, looking in fear at the group before me. "Don't think your so tough now do you?" Alice hissed, looking me right in the eyes. "Don't harm him to much Alice, we need him ready for the pit. Ivanova's pissed off enough as it is." A man from across the tent explained. What was this pit they kept talking about?!  "W-What..?" I began before being hit again. My body shook, my hand cradling my cheek. "Please stop hitting me..." I whimpered, holding my arms up defensively. Alice raised her hand again, only to have it grabbed by the man from before. "Stop, I'll take him there sense you clearly can't handle the damn kid." He hissed out. Alice glared, yanking her arm free.  The tall man looked down at me, taking me by the shoulder. I looked up at him fearfully, and he ushured me forward. Not wanting to be hurt more then I already had been. "Things here are crazy. But you gotta listen boy, because there are people worse then Alice. You'll find out soon enough."  I was trapped in another settlemnent. By a insane leader that enjoys others pain. All for the sake of their own entertainment. Only this time, there was no Ava. No Mari or dad to keep me sane and safe. There was no one but me in this hell.  My breather hitched as I struggled not to cry. It was so hard to stay strong. All I wanted was to get my dad back, and now I was being put in this arena.  The man pushed me into a small tent, walking over to a wall. I looked at him nervously as he pulled out a knife. He walked over, slicing the bonds off my wrist. Hesitant of the man, I began to rub my wrist nervously. "For...this pit...do I..get any protection?" I questioned. "You use what you find." He took my arm once more, approaching the end of the tent.  We exited the back of the tent, towards a path. Alongside the trail, was a large dug in pit...just as they had called it. Bandit members stood alongside the edge, watching as I was forced forward. A sick twisted joy sprawled on their faces. Ahead of the path was a wooden structure, standing on it was Ivanova and some of her other members.  The leader glared down at me, watching as we walked over. "Attention my people, you have waited long enough. For a choosen one to be selected. Selected for the pit!" Ivanova shouted towards the bandits. The people all cheered loudly, grinning. I continued to walk forward, terrified of what was going to happen to me. The man lead me towards the ledge, and I could only gaze down the pit in worry.  "Sorry bout this kid." Before I could react I was shoved forward, tumbling down the hill. I gasped in pain, holding my side as I looked around in panic. Everyone cheered at my misery, chackling at the despair on my face.  "Release the walkers!" Ivanova bellowed loudly. Two people stood above the pit, pulling up a wooden grate that was blocked off a hole. My eyes widened as muertos began to pull out. "Let's see if he can survive the pit!"