Jay-Z backstage with the King of Pop, Michael Jackson, at Hot 97’s ‘Summer Jam’ concert in June 2001, photographed by Walik Goshorn.
At the time of his headlining performance his infamous beef with Nas was beginning to get radio traction, so when King Hov needed a little help driving home the point that he wasn’t about to relinquish his hip-hop crown anytime soon he placed a call to his friend MJ - and had him appear onstage during a break in his ‘Summer Jam’ performance.
After performing his Jackson 5–sampling hit, ‘Izzo (H.O.V.A.)’ at the end of his set, Hov announced his surprise guest.
“I know Michael Jackson better come from behind that motherfuckin’ curtain,” Jay-Z said to the doubtful crowd… and then waited in anticipation for the King of Pop to emerge. “You want me to go back and get him myself?” Jay asked. “Okay, I’mma go get him.” Seconds later the two walked out and posed for photos together. In one of the pictures, Michael struck a b-boy stance with his arms folded. Jackson’s only words to the crowd were “I love you all!” before he exited the stage.
According to Memphis Bleek, Michael Jackson ordered everyone unauthorized to meet him to stand with their face to the wall when he walked through the backstage area. With Hov’s influence vouching for them the whole Roc-A-Fella Records team was able to meet the King of Pop and pay their respects.
Pooped my pants and had to embarrass myself by asking a male employee “where are the diapers for men, or the potty…I uh…I just pooped my pants and my undies are kinda full….” His eyes widened when I said I pooped myself buuuut he was super nice about it and told me…then I turned around and he saw it SO EMBARRASSING and hot dare me fellas!!
#1 for TaserTorch! (I'm supremely excited about this)
Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Johnny Storm Prompt: #1. “You must be a bad cook when I can smell it through the wall..”
Darcy meandered out into her kitchen and nearly choked on the acrid stench that lingered in the air. It smelled like someone had burnt toast badly enough to leave a carbon footprint. Which could only mean one thing. Johnny Storm was attempting to cook again.
Dude was the worst cook on the planet. Had to be, if she could smell it through the walls.
Chuckling to herself, she tucked her phone into her back pocket in case she needed to consult Pinterest for a recipe or something, and set off to check up on her neighbor.
She rang his doorbell and waited.
When he answered it, he was wearing an apron with char marks on it, and carrying the fire extinguisher. Never a good sign.
“Heya, Johnny…” Darcy drawled. "Do you need some help?“
He sighed and nodded. "Yes. I admit defeat. The chicken cordon bleu beat me.”
“Chicken cordon bleu? Oo la la…” Darcy waggled her eyebrows and took the extinguisher from him. "Did you put it out?“
"Yeah. It’s out. It’s ruined. But it’s out.”
“So what’s with the ‘suddenly gourmet’, Johnny? I thought you were a hot pockets kind of fella…” She poked at the charred remains of the chicken, wondering how on earth someone could let it get this burnt without smelling it first.
“I am, usually. But I kinda…” He trailed off and grinned. "There’s this girl.“
"Ah. Say no more. You wanna impress a lovely lady. Noble cause, my friend.” She leaned down to inspect the dish. "Is this my casserole dish you’ve ruined?“
"Yeah…I’ll buy you a new one… where’s it from?”
“One of the stores in Chelsea Market…I forget which…” She waved her hand vaguely.
“On my next day off,” he promised.
“No big rush, I didn’t even know you had it…” She reached over to turn off the oven. "First things first though? You’re gonna want to air this place out. The smell of charred chicken isn’t exactly charming.“
"Gotcha…” He jogged over to start opening windows and Darcy turned on the exhaust fan over the oven. Not that it was going to do much good, but at least it could get the air moving.
“Next, let’s go see what I have at my place. I’ll show you how to cook it, so you won’t be lying to your chick, but I’ll help watch it so you don’t burn down the place again.”
“You’re a lifesaver!” he called from the other room.
An hour and a half later, Johnny was well on his way to a finished, unburnt Shepherd’s Pie, a salad of mixed greens and baby kale, and a little pan of fluffy dinner rolls.
“I think she’ll like it. Comfort food is always a win,” Darcy assured him, before helping him bring all the food over to his place.
It didn’t smell terrible in there, but she was pretty sure it still smelled like chicken cordon burnt, but there wasn’t much they could do about that. Hopefully his date had a good sense of humor.
She probably did. Johnny was pretty cool, but he never dated girls long enough to make them dinner. She must be pretty special to warrant this treatment.
When he rang the doorbell at her place about ten minutes later, she panicked, thinking he’d left something over here. But she didn’t see anything on her initial glimpse around the kitchen.
“No, no, I didn’t leave anything,” he assured her. "I was just…kinda…" he jammed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Hoping to pick you up for our date?” He winked and her jaw dropped.
The lovely lady was her. He was trying to impress her.
“You were trying to make me chicken cordon bleu…” she squeaked.
He smirked and blushed a little. “I wanted to cook for you. I knew you’d probably like that better than if I took you out… sorry you had to pretty much make the food yourself… ”
“I’m not,” she confessed, grinning widely. "At least now I know I can eat it.“
He snorted and held out his hand. "Are you coming, you jack-ass?”
She took it, but tugged him a little closer instead of going with him.“Maybe we should eat over here. I know I said it was barely noticeable, but your place is a little…singed for my tastes.”
So obviously PTA!Nick has a lot of enemies in the Association (Looking at you Brenda). But what about a respected rival? Say, PTAmom Jack Savage?
Sorry, dude. But I respectfully keep myself far away from two things.
A) Jack Savage.
B) The mere idea of Nicholas Wilde sharing his one man show spotlight with anyone. Ever.
PTA Nick Wilde stands on his own in my AU’s as a pillar of good, justice, macaroni necklaces, and Fuck Brenda’s.
Jack Savage to me (no offense to his fans intended but also TOTAL offense intended no offense) is the twelve year old tweens OC creation that was as Mary Sueish as one could get. He’s the unsalted potato. The “salsa is a hot sauce” sort of fella.
Like. Take white bread. And then season it with flower and fry that shit up in a pan with fake butter and vaguely off brand packaged white cheese. Then serve that on a white paper plate and a glass of why-should-I-care. That’s Jack Savage.
Jack Savage is a frat boys fursona. He’s James Bond if he forgot leg day. He’s a wet newspaper. He’s a stale sugar cookie that’s really a chocolate chip cookie that lost confidence in itself. He’s an 80/20 steak who’s wife left it for sirloin.
I have a deep and long-standing boring hatred of him. He bores me.
And if he ever showed up in a PTA meeting Nick would evict him after one hour because he thought that confetti and streamers were a suitable enough party decoration for the third grade Daddy Daughter dance and Nick had pre ordered fucking table runners for that shit so no, Jack, streamers won’t cut it you absolute nightmare before presidents day.
At least Brenda, for all her faults, has some spunk.
Sorry dude. I can’t indulge in jack as an ally. Nick would have his ass out of there before he could say “pocket protector”
To the fans who are the ones treating him this way, take fucking note. Bob Morley is a damn good actor, and even better person, and he has expressed his discomfort with this sort of thing more than once. Those of you who are reducing him to nothing more than sexually attractive, and sending him inappropriate tweets and messages need to stop it. That’s 100% not okay. He’s a person and he deserves to be treated like one!
Imagine Tony always being turned on when Steve slips in to his Brooklyn accent or uses 1940's slang.... Now imagine Steve using that ruthlessly
It’s no secret that Tony can talk
circles around Steve, in the bedroom or otherwise. Half the words out of his
mouth have Rogers questioning whether or not the man is actually speaking
English. It would be frustrating if it wasn’t one of Stark’s most attractive
features. What can he say, Captain America has a thing for hot people saying
things he doesn’t entirely understand. He
had liked it about Howard too but he learned a long time ago not to keep Tony’s
old man out of pleasant conversation. Tended to kill the mood.
Never in his dreams did he think
that Tony had a similar vice. The man did plenty of talking for the both of
them, and while Steve knew his partner appreciated what he had to say, he
figured the ‘talk sweet to me’ door only swung one way.
That is until he was sitting in
the living room, waiting for Tony to put the finishing touches on his gala
outfit. The man attended more benefits than the president, how had he not yet
learned the art of the quick change?
Perfection suits a Stark. Tony
sauntered out of the bedroom with his usual air of confidence, but now he was
shining like a new penny. Steve propped himself up on his elbows and gave a
long, low whistle. “Gotta say, I’m startin’ to get all kinds of jealous of
these big wigs you’re schmoozing. I’d like to think you’re strutting just for
me, baby doll.”
He hadn’t even meant for it to
come out like that. Over the years, with some coaching from the resident undercover
operatives, Steve had learned how to more or less control his occasional bouts
of nostalgic lingo. But something about the way Tony’s hair was slicked, or the
ruffle of his collar, brought it out of him like nobody’s business.
And oh the money Steve would have
paid to have a camera in that moment. Tony stopped dead in his tracks, whatever
snappy comeback he had tucked away in his mouth went right out the window. His
eyes blew wide and his shoulders slumped in a distinctly un-Tonylike fashion. “You
cut that nonsense out right this second,” he managed though he voice all but
cracked with effort.
Steve would recognize that look
from a mile away. Almost smirking, he slowly got up from the couch and padded
over to his boyfriend. “What’s that, sugar? I was so busy taking in that dreamboat
mug I just about lost myself. I’m just wondering here, you think a hot fella
like you would ever go for a dope like me?”
Steve’s hands found their way
around Tony’s middle, hauling him closer. Tony, for his part, was starting
wrinkle around the eyes, the exact look he gets just before he willingly drops
all his impulse control. “If I don’t make it to this party, we are looking at a
possible world war. Not even exaggerating.” But he was already untying the bow
around his neck.
With a few quick nips to Tony’s
jawline, Steve made it to his ear, breathing hot against his neck and smiling
like a cat. “Don’t get yourself into a lather doll. We got all the time in the