Hey people of tumblr I have an idea of a way to help support Gaza. This one's especially for people living in Christian areas with a lot of mainstream acceptance of israel. It's only a few days until Christmas and as for all Gazans, things are incredibly desperate for the small population of Christian Gazans. In particular here are some articles talking about fears all Christians in Gaza will be dead soon.

So how about we call up our local churches and ask what they're doing to help the people of Palestine?

The articles I've linked come from a variety of backgrounds. Some predate oct 7th. All focus on the plight of Christians in Palestine. Take your pick for what source you think will speak to your audience.

I want you to find a church that is ignoring the genocide or even praying for israel and then point out it's not just people being murdered. It's their people being murdered. Contact your local church like "Hey I'm Name, I'm not really a member of any church these days but it's Christmas and I really want to do something to help people in Palestine. I was wondering if you have something planned over Christmas? Maybe a prayer meeting or a protest or something idk 🥺" Then if you recieve any pushback switch to "oh but I'm just sooooo worried about our fellow Christians unable to celebrate Christmas".

It's a great place to ease people into caring about genocide who normally wouldn't. And if you convince a priest they might tell their whole congregation about how this christmas they have to show up for persecuted christians in jesus' birthplace. Worth a try?

Slow Motion - Part 3 - Harry Styles

Part 1 / Part 2

Series Summary: Harry Styles is tired and lacking inspiration. He decides to search for some in the local museums during his stay in Los Angeles and stumbles across an unexpected muse

“It’s nice to feel this small.”

He watched her as she leaned forward from the bench they sat on. Her hair had been tied up after a few wrestles with the wind. She had an ethereal sense to her as strands escaped to whisper against her cheeks. Her eyes were set on the city in front of them. A place she had called home, and one he had made a home out of. A city that was quite ugly in most parts and charming in others. Always busy, always alive.

“It’s easy to feel small when you’re surrounded by loads of people,” he replied as he leaned back. “I’m not sure if I actually like it.”

“Why’s that?” She turned his attention towards him, tucking her stray hair behind her ears.

“I think once you’ve felt small for a long time, you miss feeling seen.”

“On stage? Surrounded by thousands of people, and you don’t feel seen?” her eyebrow raised in questioning and he found the small movement amusing. She always had so many questions.

“It’s not quite like that,” he sighed and turned his head towards the view that held her attention just moments ago. “I’m seen in a very public way. Comes with the fame.”

“Oh, how tragic,” she replied playfully, earning an amused chuckle on his end. She smiled briefly before a dangerously calm tone set into her voice. “I get it. It’s one thing to be seen, and another to be known.”

Harry stared at her in silence. She spoke so freely, poetically even, without hesitance in her words. He had met many beautiful people in his life, many of them artists or people of unequivocal talents, but none had ever struck him as sincere as she did. 

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Is it time for you to go back home?”

“Tomorrow morning. First flight out,” he replied with a short nod. “Off to see my mum and sister on holiday.”

“Tell them I send my love,” she grinned, “although they won’t know who the hell I am.”

Harry laughed at the idea of telling his mother that a girl he had met in California was sending her love. It would undoubtedly end up with him being interrogated, especially by his sister. It wasn’t often that Harry mentioned anyone special in his life. His reservations about that were widely known, even in the public sphere.

She had certainly earned a spot in his heart with her intellect and humor. The late-night phone calls they shared weren’t so bad either. 

“You know, even after all these weeks, I don’t know much about you,” he commented. He had given it more thought the night before and realized that while he knew all her likes, dislikes, hobbies and favorites, he still wasn’t sure what she actually did for a living. She claimed to be a writer but hadn’t shared any writing. Harry knew she had to have money of some sort to live where she did. He thought about running a google search, but his own reservations about privacy stopped him from doing so.

“You know what matters,” she replied softly, leaning against the bench and looking at him with tender eyes. “I’ve told you my dreams, my values-“

“You want to become a best selling author.”

“Yes,” she smiled, “maybe you’ll star in the movie when they turn my book into a big Oscar-worthy film.”

“Maybe.”

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll miss you.”

“Likewise, darling.”

——————————

“Harry?”

“Mmm?” he didn’t look up from the book in his hand. Fitzgerald always gave him an escape from the world around him, and he had lost his way in his words an hour ago.

“Are we ever gonna talk about the elephant in the room?”

He glanced up at his sister as his eyebrow shot up in questioning. A subtle look of confusion passed through his face as she stared back at him with a wicked grin.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know,” she smiled as she pushed his extended legs off the coffee table and passed in front of him, plopping herself down on the seat beside him, “the fact you’re in love with someone.”

“W-what?” He stumbled over the word as he sat up straighter.

“Harry, I know you. I know when you’re absolutely smitten. So come on, tell me about her. Or him, you know I’m supportive of either.”

Harry chuckled at Gemma. Of course, she had watched him like a hawk since he arrived, and she’d heard his voice through the walls early in the mornings and late at night. She was always the one to catch small details.

“She is from California,” he replied as he shut his book. Her eyes sparkled in excitement at the revelation. “And that’s all I’m willing to share right now.”

“Come on!”

“What’s going on, darlings?” Harry sighed when his mother entered the room.

“Harry’s got a new girlfriend and won’t tell me about her,” Gemma accused. His mother’s eyes widened in surprise before a bright smile overtook her gentle features.

“Love, is this true? You’ve met someone?”

He cleared his throat and stood, playfully pushing his sister deeper into the couch as he passed her. He stopped a few inches from his mother and nodded.

“She’s quite special, you’d like her. She’s not my girlfriend, though,” he kissed the top of his mom’s head before retreating stealthily towards his room, “goodnight.”

—————-

Harry blinked as his drapes were thrown open. The morning sun was a cruel alarm that Saturday, and he grumbled as he sat up in his bed- his tousled hair and tired eyes looking over at his sister.

“What’s going on?” he mumbled as he rubbed his eyes. She tossed a magazine at him, hitting his bare chest and falling straight into his lap. On the cover was a picture of him and Y/N, sitting comfortably together on a bench that overlooked the greater Los Angeles. He didn’t think much of the cover until he read the headline. “Harry Styles dating California’s own millionaire philanthropist Y/N L/N.”

“She’s pretty,” Gemma commented with a small smile, “at least now I know.”

“Millionaire philanthropist?” Harry read out loud, the disbelief hidden in his voice from his exhaustion. He quickly skipped to the article and skimmed over the parts about being spotted out and about in L.A. Instead, he zeroed in on the parts about her.

It won’t come as a surprise to anyone who knows Styles or L/N. They share similar humanitarian views with a history of donations to multiple of the same non-profits. It is, however, surprising to see L/N out so openly. She usually prefers to lead a quiet life than flaunt her extravagant lifestyle of celebrity and socialite friends.

“Gem, can you give me some privacy? I have to make a call.”

His sister looked dumbfounded but complied, closing the door to the room behind her. He grabbed his phone and looked at the time. It would be late afternoon in California, and depending on her mood, Y/N may or may not have been awake. He didn’t think twice before pressing the call button.

“Hey Harry, I don’t have much time to talk, got some meetings and work stu-”

“Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” he blurted out, interrupting her mid-sentence. He was met with silence on the other line, followed by a deep sigh.

“You saw the magazine.”

“You never mentioned you were a millionaire philanthropist,” he replied. “You claimed to be a writer.”

“I am a writer,” her voice shifted from passive to defensive, “why do you care if I’m rich? It doesn’t change who I am.”

“It does.”

“How?” she challenged, “you think differently of me now? You don’t want anything to do with me? Because if that’s why you called-”

“No, that’s not what I said,” he interrupted again, the frustration evident in his voice. “Just…” he trailed off as he tried to pinpoint where his anger was stemming from. “I just don’t like being deceived, that’s all.”

He felt conflicted. He knew money didn’t make someone, and he had his good share of it, but the fact she’d failed to mentioned it really bothered him. 

“Harry, I haven’t deceived you. I know who I am, and I’ve shown you that.” she paused as she heard his defeated sigh. “Do you know who you are?”

Her question was met with silence.

Aphrodisiacs (Nobuyuki/MC, 18+)

Happy Valentine’s Day, @meruchan!! I am your Secret Cupid~ I’m here to deliver you some Nobuyuki love~ I know you were hoping for something M-rated/smutty, so I tried my best to insert a couple of steamy scenes, haha! I’ve never actually written smut before, so hopefully this turned out okay!

Also, it’s been a looong time since I’ve written something, so I’m sure everything’s all over the place! Since I’m just trying to get back into the swing of writing again, any comments would be appreciated! :) Enjoy!

APHRODISIACS

PAIRING: Sanada Nobuyuki/MC

RATING: 18+ (contains some smutty descriptions and adult/sexual topics)

~*~*~*~

“WHAT?!” Umeko exclaimed. “You’ve been dating for over a month and you STILL haven’t done it?! How is that even possible?!”

“Now, now, Umeko! Maybe he’s just being a gentleman…?” Matsuko interjected as she gestured for Umeko to calm down.

I could only cringe at Umeko’s outburst – not that I blamed her for her reaction, since I was starting to get concerned myself. It was already a shock to me that I was even dating THE Nobuyuki Sanada! He was the heir to an illustrious family business and I was but an apprentice cook at a small, though well-known, Japanese restaurant. He frequented the restaurant often as a customer, and, somehow, we had hit it off and eventually started dating almost two months ago.

“Yeah, he’s been nothing but a gentleman, in fact,” I responded with a sigh. “Maybe it’s because he knows I’m a virgin and doesn’t want to rush me… But, to be honest, I want him to try something with me!”

“Have you tried telling him that?” Umeko asked. “Sometimes you just have to get straight to the point!”

“Well… I’ve been too embarrassed to say anything. This is my first real relationship, and I don’t want to come off weird, you know,” I replied, feeling my face heat up with a blush. Really, I was mostly embarrassed at the amount of time I spent fantasizing about him in inappropriate ways. He really didn’t need to know that.

“Hmmmm, yeah, you don’t want to look too desperate either, I guess,” Matsuko added with a nod.

We all fell silent as we pondered my dilemma. After a few seconds, I opened my mouth to tell them to not worry about it, but was interrupted by Umeko snapping her fingers with a gasp.

“I’ve got it! I just remembered this article I read in a magazine!! I still have it in my purse – hold on!”

Umeko scrambled off my couch and dashed over to her purse, nearly colliding with the wall in her excitement. Moments later, she pulled out a popular tabloid I’d often seen at the checkouts at the grocery store and dropped it into my lap.

“Here, I’ll lend it to you. There was an article in there about natural aphrodisiacs and it lists a bunch of food that apparently makes you super horny! Why don’t you try cooking him up a dinner with some of those aphrodisiacs and get him in the mood! You know, seduce him!!Maybe that will jump start him to, well, jump you!”

“Oooh, seduction might not be a bad idea! Nowadays it’s totally normal for the girl to make the first move, you know!” Matsuko chimed in, having seemingly forgotten her previous comment about not looking desperate.

“Seriously?!” I exclaimed. It’s not that I hadn’t heard of aphrodisiacs, but I just didn’t think they were actually real. Besides that, me seduce him?! I already felt way out of my league!! He was always so calm and collected, I couldn’t even imagine him falling for any kind of seductions!

“Well, just read it first and decide! You never know!” Umeko giggled.

All I could do was sigh and reluctantly accept the magazine. Once I’d promised to give the article a read, our conversation moved on to other topics and it wasn’t long before our girls’ night ended and Umeko and Matsuko went home.

Alone now in my apartment, I settled down on my couch and started to flip through the magazine. It was aimed primarily at women and contained various articles on skin care, fashion, diets and of course… love advice. I blushed as I landed on an article about the newest sex toys. Though I’d heard about them from my friends, I’d always been too shy to buy one myself. I couldn’t help but skim the article out of curiosity. It was a review on a new product that was aimed at virgins – apparently it was designed to help ‘train’ women who were nervous about having sex for the first time.

I could feel a blush spread across my cheeks and the skin on the back of my neck prickled. I ignored the warm feeling that spread through my abdomen and quickly flipped to the next page.

“Here it is… ‘In this edition of ‘The Lover’s Guide’, we’ll introduce you to thirty natural aphrodisiacs to spice up your love life!’” I read out loud to myself, cringing at how corny it sounded.

However, despite my doubts, I started reading the article, mostly fueled by my own desperation. The article listed out various food products that would, apparently, increase one’s sex drive while explaining the ‘science’ behind it. Oysters apparently contained zinc, which is supposed to boost the male sex drive, and amino acids, which can trigger increased levels of sex hormones. Chocolate contains 'feel-good’ chemicals phenylethylamine and serotonin. Certain spices acted as sexual stimulants. The list went on and on.

As I read more of the article, I soon found myself forgetting my skepticism as the culinary side of my brain automatically started piecing together a menu using these ‘aphrodisiacs’. Soon, I was already making a mental grocery list and thinking of how I could plate and present each course…

~*~*~*~

I had just placed the plate of dessert into my fridge when I heard the doorbell ring.

“Coming!” I called as I stripped off my apron and hung it up on its hook. When I opened the door, I came face-to-face with the handsome, smiling face of my boyfriend.

“Good evening,” Nobuyuki greeted before leaning down to kiss me chastely on the cheek. Leaning back, he gently handed me a bouquet of vibrant red roses. “For you. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“They’re beautiful! Thank you!” I exclaimed, cradling the bouquet gently as I stepped aside to let him inside.

“I also brought a bottle of champagne,” Nobuyuki added as he shut the door behind him. He slipped off his shoes and placed his work bag on the floor. I couldn’t stop myself from admiring his broad shoulders through his perfectly-tailored shirt as they shrugged off his coat.

“Is something wrong?”

I was suddenly snapped out of my ogling by Nobuyuki’s voice and I realized that I hadn’t moved since he’d come in.

“Sorry, I was just distracted! Are you hungry?” I asked, turning my back to him to hide the guilty flush on my face. Trying to distract myself, I walked into my kitchen, intending to look for a vase for the flowers.

However, a moment later, I squeaked as I suddenly felt Nobuyuki wrap his arms around me from behind.

“I’m famished,” he breathed into my ear. I shuddered as I felt his breath on the back of my neck. All too quickly, though, he let me go with a chuckle and made his way over to the dining table.

“Gr-great!” I stammered. This man was not good for my heart!! “Because I prepared a lot of food!”

Taking a deep breath, I opened my fridge and prepared myself for… the worst? The best? I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect, but, well…. here went nothing.

I reached into my fridge, pulled out a bowl and set it on the table. It contained raw oysters laid out on a bed of ice chips.

“Oysters?” Nobuyuki breathed, his slender eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Yes, they were on sale! So, I thought it might be nice to indulge!” I quipped, sitting down across from him and setting down a plate of lemon wedges and a couple of small serving plates. “Umm, you don’t dislike oysters, do you?”

I raised my eyes to study his face nervously, but he simply smiled back at me gently, his head tilting slightly to one side with the gesture.

“Not at all. I just wasn’t… expecting it. I’m happy to eat anything you make for me.”

“Well, that’s a relief! Help yourself then!”

I knew that any effects from the food wouldn’t be instantaneously, but I found myself holding my breath anyway as I watched Nobuyuki reach for an oyster. He squeezed a few drops of lemon juice on it before delicately raising it to his mouth. My mind automatically flickered back to the magazine article I had read earlier last week. Not only were oysters full of zinc and amino acids for boosting the sex drive, it was said that oysters were also sexually appealing because of the sensual way that they were eaten.

That article couldn’t have been more right. It was as if my brain was running in slow-motion. My eyes fixated on Nobuyuki’s mouth as he tipped the oyster into his mouth. I was acutely aware of every movement of his lips as the oyster moved past his lips and I could feel a hot coiling feeling ignite in my stomach as he made a slurping sound. My mouth went dry as he made an appreciative sound – moan, it was a moan, my brain screamed – and licked his lips.

God, those lips… I couldn’t even count the amount of times he’d kissed me breathless with those lips. He was an amazing kisser, and I couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel if those skillful lips kissed the rest of my body. Especially between my thighs.

Before I knew it, my brain flashed to an image of Nobuyuki’s head between my legs. He would moan, as he had just now, as his tongue languidly licked along my folds. I could hear wet, slurping sounds as his lips sucked at my pussy, drinking up the juices flowing out. I had never felt so wet before, and I couldn’t tell whether the wetness came from myself or was simply his saliva. Then, suddenly, I gasped as he teased a finger between my wet lower lips, pushing in as he continued his ministrations with his mouth.  The sensation made me groan and I could feel another gush of hot liquid flow out as he reached in deeper with his finger. I couldn’t help pressing myself against his face, pushing him in deeper—

“You’re not eating?”

“S-sorry! I was just waiting for you to try the first one!” I yelped, my mind slamming back to reality at his question.

I couldn’t believe that I had just did that!! I mentally slapped myself for suddenly drifting off to fantasyland and reached for an oyster myself. Instead, I forced myself to make small talk to distract my brain, and soon we had finished the oysters, along with some of the champagne. I then pulled out the next course from the oven.

“Baked salmon with asparagus,” I said, placing Nobuyuki’s plate before him.

According to the article, salmon contained omega 3s which are linked to serotonin boosting your happiness and mood. Meanwhile, asparagus is rich in vitamin B6 and folate, which are said to increase arousal and orgasm. Not to mention their suggestive shape…

“Oh, I also tried making it spicy – since I know you like your food on the flavourful side,” I added. Chili peppers apparently stimulated the release of endorphins and generated physiological responses in the body similar to those experienced during arousal, like sweating and increased heartrate.

“Ah, that definitely has quite a kick to it,” Nobuyuki commented as he finished several bites of his salmon. “I’m certainly feeling the heat, now, haha.”

He put down his fork and knife and loosened the collar of his dress shirt, undoing the first couple of buttons. My eyes automatically followed the sudden motion of his hands and followed the ‘v’ of his slightly open shirt. I could see a light sheen of sweat along his neck, which was slightly flushed. My gaze moved up to his face, staring at his parted lips as he fanned himself lightly with his hand. The look on his face instantly sent another shot of heat down to my privates and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

I couldn’t help but wonder if this would be the expression he’d make in bed. Perhaps he’d look like that, covered in a light layer of sweat, with locks of his soft hair sticking to his skin and lips parted in pants as my hand moved along his shaft. I imagined him groaning my name as I stroked him up and down, keeping my grip at just the right pressure for his abdomen to tense underneath me. Just when beads of pre-cum start dripping out, I dipped my head down to cover his tip with my mouth. I flick my tongue over his head, lapping up the beads of liquid, relishing in the gasp that escapes his mouth. Then, I slipped my grip lower as I took in more of him into my mouth—

Oh my GOD, STOOOOOP!!! I screamed at my mind, shaking my head as I quickly went back to my meal, attacking my salmon with a vengeance.

I thanked the magazine article for giving me the idea to use chili, as the heat from the food gave me an excuse to hide the blush on my face. I felt my face get even warmer as I realized that I could feel a slight wetness between my legs. How was it possible that I was this turned on?! Maybe there was something to this aphrodisiac business…

Though I was feeling heated, when I glanced over at Nobuyuki, he looked completely calm, the heat from the chili seasoning long gone. He had finished eating his portion already and was casually sipping at his champagne while watching me with hooded eyes and a light smile. It was a familiar expression on him, and I often caught him looking at me this way, though I never could figure out what he was thinking. One thing was for certain, though: this look always gave me butterflies.

“Do you still have room for dessert?” I asked, trying to distract myself from drowning in that smoldering gaze.

“Certainly. What’s on the menu?”

“Well, since it’s Valentine’s Day, I really wanted to do something with chocolate! And I saw this fondue set on sale at the department store the other day, so – chocolate fondue!” I responded as I cleared the dining table of our dinner plates.

I then quickly put together the fondue set and started melting the dark chocolate I had bought. I then pulled out the plate of fresh fruit that I had painstakingly prepared. The article had cited chocolate as an aphrodisiac, which made it a convenient fit for our Valentine’s dinner. I had also relied on the article to pick out many of the fruits on the platter. Those fruits apparently contained certain vitamins and minerals that were supposed to elevate energy levels and promote positive moods – which would lead to being in the mood.

“Ah, the fruits look delicious,” Nobuyuki commented, already swiping up a strawberry and popping it into his mouth.

I smiled at his boyish behaviour. He was always so put together, but, when it came to dessert, he always let his guard down just a little bit. I would have never expected him to have such a sweet tooth – and he was especially partial to fruits.

“Strawberries, bananas, cherries, mangos, pineapples… and what’s this?” Nobuyuki asked, pointing at the small round balls sitting with the fruit on the platter.

“Oh, they’re cinnamon doughnut bites. I thought it might be nice to toss in a different texture.” I responded. The real reason, though, was that cinnamon had also been listed in the article as an aphrodisiac. Apparently, the spice produced heat within the body and facilitated sexual arousal.

“Doughnuts, hmmm? Yukimura would be jealous – he loves doughnuts.”

“Oh, I made a lot – you can take some leftovers for him, if you want.”

“Thank you, I think I will. It’ll be a nice repayment since I borrowed something from him earlier this week.”

As soon as the chocolate was melted and ready, Nobuyuki immediately picked up one of the doughnuts with his fingers – completely ignoring the small fork I had put out for him – and dipped it into the chocolate. However, instead of putting it into his own mouth, I found the chocolate-covered doughnut dangling in front of my lips.

“Say, ‘ahhhh’,” Nobuyuki said, his eyes narrowing in a smile.

I couldn’t help but blush a little as I opened my mouth. Nobuyuki popped the doughnut into my mouth and I felt my lips and tongue brush against his fingers before he moved them away.

“Oh my, looks like I made a bit of a mess,” he remarked, looking at his hand. Perhaps he had dipped the doughnut into too much chocolate, or it had simply dripped down onto his hand when he had fed it to me, but bits of melted chocolate covered his fingers.

Without another thought, he brought his hand to his lips and began to languidly lick the chocolate off his fingers. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from watching the movement of his tongue lapping over his fingers – the motion was far more sensual than it had any right to be. Whether it was caused by the cinnamon on the doughnut or something completely more primitive, I immediately felt a burst of heat through my lower abdomen.

It was going to be a long night….

~*~*~*~

As I stepped out of the washroom, I saw Nobuyuki slip something – it looked like a card – into a gift bag. He then capped the pen he was holding, stowing it back into his pocket.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay later, dear one,” he murmured apologetically as he shrugged on his coat. He had suddenly been called back to the office to deal with an urgent work situation, so our night had been cut shorter than expected.

“Oh, please, don’t feel bad! You can’t help it if an emergency comes up. I’m just happy that we were able to finish eating dinner!” I responded, leaning into the kiss he placed on my cheek.

“I’ll make it up to you next time,” he said with a smile before handing me the gift bag. “This is for you, by the way. Please do open it after I leave. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

“Thank you, Nobuyuki. Flowers and a present? You’re spoiling me!”

“Not at all. Giving this to you may as well be a gift for myself, my dear.”

After slipping on his shoes, he turned around and suddenly I found my face caught between his large hands. A second later, he pulled me in for a kiss. His lips hungrily moved over my own and the soft, pleasant sensation made me moan before I realized – my body still felt hot and bothered and this kiss was doing things to me. I felt his tongue push past my slightly parted lips, deepening the kiss, and I could taste the lingering flavour of chocolate. I was desperate to taste more of him, and pressed myself further into his kiss, but he suddenly pulled away.

“I have to go, now,” he said with a small smile.

Though he sounded apologetic, I could see a teasing twinkle in his eye – he knew exactly what he was doing. He chuckled as I tried to glare at him, but my scowl quickly turned into a smile when he gave me another peck on the cheek.

“Good night, Nobuyuki. Drive safe!”

“Good night. Don’t stay up too late,” he responded with another smile. Then, he left, and I was alone once more in my apartment.

I let out a sigh. Well, there went that plan. I had hoped that he would stay the night and that my aphrodisiac-laden dinner would entice him into finally making a move on me.

Feeling sorry for myself, I picked up the gift bag Nobuyuki had given me and pulled out the tissue paper. I immediately saw an envelope and pulled that out first. I opened the card that was inside and was greeted with Nobuyuki’s neat, flowing script along with a folded piece of paper.

The card itself contained a short and sweet message from Nobuyuki wishing me a happy Valentine’s Day. I then unfolded the piece of paper – it looked like it had been a page ripped out of his notepad or day planner – but, as I read the message, I felt an odd feeling of dread flood through me.

'Happy Valentine’s Day, dear one. The other day, I was reading an article in a magazine that I found in Yukimura’s room. There were some fascinating articles that were quite enlightening. One of those articles gave me the perfect idea for your Valentine’s Day gift. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to witness you opening your gift. I would’ve loved to see you try it out. I’ve left the magazine for you to read the article yourself as it’s quite informative. I’ve bookmarked the pages for you.’

I immediately looked back into the gift bag as I felt my heart race faster. Sure enough, there was a magazine tucked against the inner siding of the bag. My hand trembled slightly as I pulled it out. It was the exact same magazine that Umeko had lent me, and there were two sticky notes sticking out of the pages.

I flipped to the first sticky note and found myself face-to-face with the article about the sex toy for virgins. I immediately felt heat rush simultaneously up my face and down my neck. Seriously?! A second glance into the gift bag revealed a discreet black box labeled with the name of the sex toy. I wasn’t sure if I should feel flattered or embarrassed.

However, as I flipped to the second bookmark, I decided that I most definitely felt embarrassed.

The second sticky note was stuck on the article about aphrodisiacs and written on said sticky note were the words: 'Thank you for dinner.’

END

robron + fake dating!!! (i already forgot the number because i got so excited about it #rip)

Here you go! Just seventeen years later, I am SO SORRY.07. Fake dating.CW: forced outing, brief discussions of homophobia and biphobia. All of Aaron’s opinions on music are his own and I don’t endorse them nor condone them.

In Aaron’s defense, he’s drunk when it happens.

-

Technically, Aaron, a music journalist, should be impartial and fair.Practically, he and Robert Sugden, former boybander from the early 2000s gonesolo, have a feud going on. Well, they had one. These days, what with theintermingling of their personal lives, they mostly have a grudging andexpletive-laden acquaintanceship.

Adam once called them “frenemies” but Adam is an idiot and what he saysdoesn’t count.

Aaron can’t quite remember howit started. Probably with him saying something about how Robert’s the BritishTaylor Swift but with none of the emotional range. He might also be in a feudwith Taylor Swift now that he thinks about it, he’s not sure.

It’s all very fuzzy. Theapocalyptic amounts of alcohol he’s been consuming all night probably aren’thelping matters. They are, however, helping with the fact that he’s currently inRobert Sugden’s living room, witnessing all kinds of straight PDA.

There’s a party going on, somekind of celebration because Robert’s been nominated for a music award. Aaronfeels like he should definitely know which one, but it’s escaping him at themoment. What he does know is that it’s one of those cheap ones voted by thepublic, a popularity contest more than anything. Record executives love themthough.

If this lavish party isanything to go by, so does Robert.

Aaron takes a swig of hisbeer. Robert’s a sell-out, nothing new there.

Aaron tries to regain focus.He’s been waiting for Adam and Vic’s make-out session to end for a while now,but it doesn’t look like it’s happening any time soon. When he sees Adam’stongue enter Vic’s mouth for the third time in five minutes he decides to cuthis losses and get up.

He wanders around for a bit,nodding hello to the few people he knows, mostly other music journalists hereto network or just to score some free alcohol and food. Can’t say he blamesthem.

He’s just thinking he hasn’tseen Robert at all, and what a blessing that is, when he does see him. He’swearing a white button-down shirt and jeans, surrounded by people in silks andglitter, but he still stands out the most. There’s something about him thatdraws people’s attention. If Aaron were the sort of flowery writer that editorslove he’d describe it as a ‘magnetic aura’ or something equally stupid. As itis, he’s just annoyed in a way he can’t quite verbalize.

Robert sees Aaron from acrossthe room and smirks at him, a flash of white teeth that’s gone almost as soonas it appears. Aaron turns back. What a wanker.

-

Aaron wakes up with a bangingheadache and a mouth that feels filled with cotton.

He opens one eye, slowly, andwhen he’s not assaulted by the daylight as he feared, he opens the other one aswell. He notices gladly that the curtains are shut, allowing him some reprieve.Then he remembers that he doesn’t have curtains in his bedroom and a wave ofnausea hits him.

He’s on a bed, diagonally,mercifully alone and fully clothed, shoes included. It’s not his bed though.

Aaron gets up, gingerly, andas he does some of the memories from the night before flood back to him. Heremembers getting drunk, he remembers getting annoyed with Robert aboutsomething but he can’t quite remember what, he remembers wandering onto thesecond floor and into a guest bedroom and then suddenly not reallyunderstanding how locks and doors and handles work anymore.

Not one of his finest moments,admittedly.

So, he’s still at Robert’s, inone of his bedrooms. He takes his phone out of his jeans pocket and looks atthe time, it’s only 10.30 on a Sunday, he’s sure Robert’s still asleep. He canprobably get out of there without even having to see him.

This is fine. This is allfine.

-

Aaron’s trip downstairs is assilent as he can make it, which, given his current state, is not very silent atall. At one point he even trips on the carpet and barely manages not to fall onhis face, releasing however a string of curses. He sends up a silent prayerthat Robert’s room is very far away and Robert is a very sound sleeper.

“Aaron? Are you trying to giveme a heart attack?” Robert half yells, suddenly and inexplicably at the bottomof the stairs. He’s clutching his chest with a hand in a way that Aaron feelsis way too dramatic for the situation.

He’s wearing an open robe, apair of pajama bottoms and nothing else. Aaron is man enough and hung-overenough to admit that it’s distracting and that’s why it’s taking him forever toanswer. Not that he’s going to let Robert in on that.

“I fell asleep.” Aaron says,crossing his arms. “Why are you already up?” Aaron asks, with way moreaccusation in his tone than is warranted, all things considered.

Robert gestures towards theliving room. Aaron comes down the last few steps and peers into the largeliving room, where a cleaning crew is eliminating every trace of last night’sparty and studiously ignoring them.

“You look like you’re about tothrow up.” Robert says, wrinkling his nose. “Please not on the carpet.”

Aaron grunts at him. He canrecognize a hint when he gets thrown one.

“Fine. I’ll leave you to it.”He says, rushing towards the door, Robert right behind him.

“What?” Aaron asks.

“Last time you tried to leaveyou ended up in my guest bedroom. I’m just making sure you don’t end up in myattic.” Robert says. He looks weird. Sleepy, maybe. Soft. His bare feet barelymaking a sound on the plush carpet and his hair still a mess from the nightbefore.

Aaron idly wonders if there’sanyone upstairs, still in Robert’s bed, waiting for him to be done and get backunder the covers. He shakes the thoughts off. He might still be drunk.

He opens the front door andsteps into the fresh air. It’s cold, but at least it’s making his nausea goaway.

“Aren’t you forgettingsomething?” Robert asks from the door. Aaron turns around and finds himselfface to face with Robert, who’s leaning on the doorframe, robe open in a waythat’s too artful to be casual. It’s a little thing but it reminds Aaron why hedislikes Robert so much. Everything about him is studied and fake.

“What?” Aaron barks out, backon familiar emotional territory.

Robert blinks at him a coupleof times. “Didn’t you have a coat last night? It’s cold.” Robert asks, finallyclosing his robe, as if his words had conjured the chill.

Aaron shrugs. He’s not goingback in.

Robert sighs. He disappearsinside for a few seconds before reappearing with a bundle in his arms.

“Here, take this.” He says,thrusting the thing at Aaron. “You can bring it back to me next time.” Andbefore Aaron can protest or speak, really, he closes the door.

Aaron unfolds the coat, it’sone of those posh ones that cost hundreds of dollars. He shrugs it on.

-

Aaron does throw up on the wayhome. He’s not sure he can blame Robert for it but he definitely makes avaliant effort.

-

Aaron manages to drag himselfout of bed on Monday morning, held together by determination, a prayer, and thepromise of coffee.

In hindsight he should havestayed in bed.

It starts with Adam sendinghim a text with an incoherent string of emojis and a link to one of thosegossip sites that he hates. He’s about to ignore the whole thing when he seesthe name ‘Robert Sugden’ in the link. He must still be half-asleep because hejust taps on it, opening a new page.

Aaron’s greeted by pictures ofRebecca White leaving Robert’s house. They’re from the morning before and Aaronquashes the spark of something ugly in his stomach that flares at therealization. She looks okay, surely more put together than Aaron looked in thesame situation. Robert’s robe is mercifully closed.

He’s scrolling through thepictures and asking himself why Adam would ever think he’s interested in themwhen he sees the back of his own head. A picture of it, to be precise. He’sstanding close to Robert, who somehow looks even more naked in the picturesthan he was in real life yesterday morning. He doesn’t remember standing thatclose either, but the angle makes it look like they were only a few inchesapart.

Aaron skims the article, buteven calling it an article feels too much of a concession. It’s a bunch of baselessspeculations about their relationship, Robert’s relationship with Rebecca, andwhat might have gone down the night before. They have even embedded a few ofthe tweets he and Robert have exchanged during the years in for good measure. Thearticle calls them ‘foreplay’ and Aaron doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

-

Robert calls him. Of course,Robert calls him. Tragedies always strike in threes.

It’s five pm and Aaron isabout to call it a night, earlier than usual, just so he can escape the circusthose pictures have created. His co-workers, who are usually to scared to eventalk to him, are openly laughing at him. Well, not so openly anymore after healmost bit Tracy’s head off earlier, but still. There’s definitely somelaughing at his expense happening. His own motherhas called him to laugh at him about it.

He’s just about ready to gohome, drink one or seven beers and go to bed when his phone rings. It flasheswith Vic’s number. He’s seriously tempted to let it go to voicemail, but in theend, he answers it.

He shouldn’t have.

“I’m going to be at your apartmentin half an hour, meet me there.” Robert says, in a tone Aaron can’t quitedecipher, then he hangs up.

Aaron is so incredibly temptedto stand Robert up. He could go to a pub and get his one to seven beers there,go back home once he’s sure Robert’s gone or even crash at Adam’s.

He sighs.

He goes home.

-

Robert is standing next toAaron’s apartment complex, leaning casually against the wall, a foot proppedback against it. He’s wearing a pair of stupid fake hipster glasses and a hat,trying to blend in. Aaron wants to punch him in the mouth.

He doesn’t even acknowledgeRobert as he goes inside, but he can feel him following. Aaron suddenly remembershe’s still wearing the coat Robert had given him yesterday and feels caughtout, but he’s not sure why. His own winter coat, the only one he has, is stillsomewhere inside Robert’s sprawling mansion, and it’s not like Robert can’tafford a new one if he really needs it.

“I’ll be right back.” Aaronsays before Robert can even open his mouth. He even manages to make it soundlike a warning.

He comes back with a case ofbeer and half a bottle of whiskey. Whatever it is Robert wants, Aaron isresolutely not listening to it sober.

-

Turns out, Robert wants themto date.

They are both so incredibly,stupidly drunk. They’re on Aaron’s couch and they’ve managed to demolish thealcohol and the meager contents of Aaron’s fridge, which mostly consisted of oldtake-away and a solitary carton of eggs. This is fine. It’s fine.

“So, you want me to, what, beyour reverse beard?” Aaron asks. He’s put Robert’s glasses on, and it turns outthey’re actually prescription glasses and it’s giving him nausea, but it’sbetter than the glasses being on Robert’s stupid face, so he’s keeping them.

Robert shrugs.

“Because between the pressthinking you shagged your ex-wife’s sister and a bloke the latter is… better?”Aaron asks, unsure. He’s, again, extremely drunk, but he’s pretty sure this won’tmake sense even once he sobers up.

“I didn’t.” Robert says,adamant, his eyes glassy from the booze, but intent. “Sleep with her.” Heclarifies.

“I don’t care who you shag,mate.” Aaron says, taking a swig of his beer, but something in his chest feelslooser.

“People do. The Daily Mailcalled me ‘a closet hopping groundhog gay.’” Robert says, finishing off therest of his whiskey. He looks so offended and sad, his hair sticking up indifferent directions from where he’s carded his fingers through it, his shirtrumpled.

Aaron laughs. He doesn’tbother to point out that only idiots read The Daily Mail.

“It’s not funny!” Robertprotests, but he’s laughing too. “I don’t even know what that means.” He continues,more to himself than to Aaron.

Aaron knows it hasn’t beeneasy for Robert to come out. He’s had to put up with his fair share of bullshitand Aaron can relate. Still. This is insane.

“I still don’t get why yougotta date me.” Aaron says with a grimace.

“Haven’t you read thecomments? People like us.” Robertreplies. “The idea of us.” He amends.

Aaron rolls his eyes. Robert’sobsession with what people think of him will lead him to an early grave.Probably by Aaron’s hands.

“Come with me to an event ortwo. A couple of dates. Then we can tell people we split amicably.” Robert says.Aaron gives him a look. “Or with a lot of animosity, whatever works for you.”

The crazy thing is, Aaron isconsidering it. He’s drunk enough to at least admit that to himself, and topreemptively give himself an excuse when he’ll wake up sore and regretfultomorrow.

“You’ll have full access. I’llmake sure you get the exclusive on any new project of the people I know.”Robert continues. He’s blurry and earnest seen through his own glasses. Aaronwants to throw up.

“Fine.”

-

Aaron wakes up with a crick inhis neck for having slept sitting on the couch and a banging headache, sunlightstreaming in from the windows. He wants to die and throw up. In that order. Hereally needs to stop doing this.

Why did he even do this?

“Would it kill you to buy aset of curtains?” Robert asks, his voice scratchy from sleep and what Aaronhopes is the mother of all hangovers.

Right. That.

-

Aaron takes two aspirins andstands in the shower for as long as there is hot water. He towels himself dryand puts on some clean clothes. He even manages not to throw up. He takes it asa win.

When he goes back to theliving room Robert is still there, looking intently at Aaron’s recordcollection. There’s not much in the living room, his favorite ones taking upevery available bit of space in his bedroom, these are mostly the spillovers.Still, he figures it must be an interesting collection by the look ofconcentration on Robert’s face.

He’s wearing his glasses again,as well as his stupidly expensive coat and his hat. Despite the hangover, helooks good. Aaron hates him just a little bit more for it.

“Why are you still here?”Aaron asks, weary, but lacking the usual bite. It’s been a long day already andit’s not even nine am.

“You break for lunch, right?”Robert asks, completely ignoring Aaron’s question. Aaron nods. “Okay, Leylasaid we should go for lunch. Seafood.” Robert continues, whipping up his phonefrom his jeans pocket and looking at the screen.

“Did she?” Aaron asks, lookingaround the room trying to locate his own phone in an attempt to not look atRobert anymore. This is insane. In the harsh, cold light of day, this is positivelyinsane.

“She says ‘right now lunch says this relationship is new and lowkey and we’re having fun but within thebounds of respectability politics because we live in a heteronormative society.’I’m quoting.” Robert shrugs. “That must be some fresh fish if it’s saying allthat.”

Aaron groans. “Jokes like that’swhy you need a PR boyfriend instead of having a real one, mate.”

-

Robert is late. Not that Aaronis surprised. There are many a-Twitter rants from Aaron about Robert’stardiness. Honestly, he’s revising his stance on this, their feud is all Robert’sfault.

Not that there is a feudanymore, not publicly at least. Or privately, Aaron has to grudgingly admit. He’salmost getting used to Robert. It’s disconcerting.

He’s just about to get back insidewhen a sleek silver car parks in front of him. Aaron would recognize that caranywhere. He gets inside.

Robert’s showered and changedclothes. He’s still wearing jeans, but now he’s also wearing a button-downshirt and a blazer. If Aaron were anyone else, he’d probably be feelingunderdressed, but thankfully, he’s Aaron Dingle.

“It’s lunch.” He says pointedly.

“There’ll be paparazzi.” Robert replies just aspointedly, looking Aaron over. It sends something like a spark down Aaron’sspine, he squashes it down. Not in a million years.

-

The food is good at least. Hecan’t say the same for the company. Robert’s spent the entire time subtlyworking his angles so the paparazzi can get good shots while trying to looknatural.

Every time Aaron thinks hemight actually like Robert, Robert gives him a stark reminder of why he doesn’t.It’s like clockwork.

“Why do you even care?” Aaronasks, brusquely. He’s tired of being ignored, but he hadn’t meant to say it outloud. Still, at least it startles Robert out of his daze.

“What?”

“About all this. It’s mental.”Aaron says. Robert looks like he’s waiting for Aaron to elaborate, but Aarondoesn’t.

“It’s sort of my job.” Robert replies,and to his credit he doesn’t say it like he thinks Aaron is stupid for notgetting it, which must be a struggle for him.

“Making music is your job.”Aaron says, defiant.

Aaron would rather die thanadmit any of this, but Robert has a good voice. He even has the classictraining and the rags to riches story to back it up. Farm boy turned pop star. Ifit were anyone else, Aaron could see the appeal. The fact is, Robert seems toobusy constantly obsessing over his image to actually sing anything worthlistening to and it makes Aaron want to shake him.  

“Did you remember when peoplefound out?” Robert asks, and intense look on his face, and he doesn’t have tospecify what, Aaron knows he’s talking about his sexuality.

Aaron does remember. He’s theone who had to break the news to Robert that there were pictures of him with abloke circulating around various gossip magazines. He remembers threatening toquit if the newspaper bought any of the pictures. They had been one of the fewoutlets to not even run a story about it. The fallout hadn’t been great.

Aaron nods.

“How much work do you think ittook to make sure I still had a career after that?” Robert asks, but it’s a rhetoricalquestion.

Aaron gets it, he really does.Music journalism is a difficult world for a gay man to break into, he’s had toadapt, toughen up. It’s messed up that he’s had to do that, but he knew thescore going in. He doesn’t think Robert did. Or maybe he did and had decided along time ago to kill that part of himself was a viable solution. Aaron’s notsure which option would make him sadder.

Then something happens. Robertseems to remember they’re in a public place and there’s people taking theirpictures and he plasters a smile on his face. It’s a good enough imitation ofthe real thing, Aaron will give him that. Aaron knows better, still, he lets itgo.

“When we get out, I’m puttingmy arm around your shoulders.” Robert says, but Aaron knows it’s his way ofasking. Aaron shrugs.

-

“This is mental, mate.” Adamsays. They’re at work, huddled around Aaron’s phone, looking at the picturesfrom the day before.

Adam knows, because Adam isAaron’s best mate and because Aaron needed to share the insanity with someone andAdam was the best bet. Adam’s sworn not to tell anyone and that’s good enoughfor him. Not that he’s telling Robert that Adam knows. Compared to how Robertfeels about Adam, Aaron and Robert’s relationship is a picnic in the park.

Aaron looks at the picturesand he feels something hot flutter in his stomach. He looks at them and he canfeel Robert’s warmth through their two thick coats and the smell of hisaftershave. Robert’s smiling his real smile at him.

“It’s alright.” Aaron concedes.

-

After a week or so they manageto graduate to dinner dates, and hey, at least Aaron’s getting free meals outof this. It could be worse.

Tonight, they’re ending theirdate at Robert’s to unwind. Robert is barefoot in the kitchen, cooking, theradio is playing a pop song Aaron would never admit to liking, but he does. It’soddly domestic and it’s making Aaron feel weird. He wants to say he doesn’t likeit, but in the privacy of his own head he has to admit it’s not true.

It’s nice.

“I need the loo.” Aaron says,suddenly overwhelmed.

“Use the one upstairs.” Robertreplies without even turning around. “Try not to get lost again.” Aaron flipshim the bird.

Aaron does get lost again. Inhis defense, Robert’s house his huge. How many bedrooms and bathrooms andbarely used offices does one person need? That’s how he ends up in what he’spretty sure is Robert’s bedroom.

It’s the only one that seemslived in. There are pictures of Robert’s family on the dresser and a few bookslying around, bookmarks sticking out. There are also a few vinyls and a recordplayer. They all look brand new. Intrigued, Aaron picks them up. They’re alltitles from the collection he keeps in his living room. A lot of Fleetwood Mac.

Aaron’s just about to leavewhen he notices a leather notebook on Robert’s nightstand. He picks it up, itlooks expensive and well-loved. He can see post-its sticking from the sides,but it otherwise looks carefully maintained.

“You can open it.” Robert saysfrom the doorway, making Aaron jump.

“I got lost.” Aaron replies,caught out.

“It’s okay.” Robert shrugs,but he seems tense, nervous. Maybe he does want Aaron to open the journal. Aarondoes.

Inside, in Robert’s neathandwriting are songs. Lyrics and music. They’re all dated, some going back towhen Robert first started out. Aaron jumped to the last page, Robert had apparentlystarted working on the last one the day before.

“I didn’t know you actuallywrote your songs.” Aaron says. Robert’s stuff tends to be over-produced garbage,earworms designed to be catchy and meaningless, that’s the kind of stuff that’susually cranked out by over-paid teams of producers.

“I don’t. Not the ones I singanyways.” Robert replies. He sprawls on the bed, facing Aaron. He puts hishands behind his head, exposing a silver of skin between his shirt and hisjeans and wow isn’t that a sight.

Except.

Aaron’s gotten pretty good atreading Robert by now and he can see the tense line of his shoulders, the way he’slooking at Aaron with fake confidence. He’s waiting for Aaron to judge him. Aaronthinks Robert might always be waiting for others to judge him.

Aaron goes back to the journal.He takes his time, reading a few of the lyrics, singing the melodies under hisbreath. They’re unpolished, some of them unfinished, but they’re good. Aaron’sheart feels like it’s going to explode in his chest. They’re good.

“This is the stuff you shouldbe singing.” Aaron says, reverently closing the journal and putting it back onthe nightstand. “It’s great.”

Robert breathes and thetension seems to leave his body completely. Aaron thinks it might have beensome kind of test and he’s irrationally elated he seems to have passed it.

“I’ve been thinking about it.”Robert admits, and the way he says it makes Aaron think it’s probably his firsttime saying it out loud. “Going full Cher.” Robert jokes.

“It might even earn you thefirst good review of your career.” Aaron says deadpan.

Robert throws a pillow at hisface.

-

They eat dinner, they watch amovie, they drink beer, they sit close, closer than most people do, and then Aaronleaves.

They’re on Robert’s dooragain, shivering against the cold night air, Robert framed by the light comingfrom inside the house.

“I had a good time.” Robertsays.

“I’ve had worse.” Aaronreplies because Aaron is an asshole, but Robert doesn’t seem to mind because hesmiles at him. “You never gave me my coat back.”

“I think the maid threw itout.” Robert says, wrinkling his nose.

Robert reaches towards Aaronand does the zip of Aaron’s coat up higher, well, Robert’s coat really. He patsAaron on the chest once, resting his hand for a second right on Aaron’s heart.

“You can keep this one.”Robert continues.

That’s when Aaron sees theflash go off in the corner of his eye.

Right.

This is fake.

-

So. Aaron might be in lovewith his fake boyfriend, which is fine and not at all disconcerting. Also, definitelynot as hilarious as Adam seems to think it is.

-

The thing is: Robert is all action,even when he shouldn’t be. He and Aaron tend to have that in common. Robert’sbeen driving so far. He’s been taking all the first steps. If he had wantedAaron, he would have made it happen by now.

Adam thinks Aaron is an idiot,but Adam doesn’t know anything and he can shut his stupid mouth.

-

Aaron’s wearing a suit, thenicest item of clothing he’s ever owned, courtesy of Robert’s tailor. They’regoing to the MTV Music People’s Choice whatever – Aaron’s been preoccupied withother matters lately and he usually never covers this stuff anyways – and they’rewearing matching suits. Aaron’s wearing blue and even he has to admit that helooks good.

Robert, however, looks on awhole other level. He’s wearing a color he’s insisting Aaron call “maroon” (it’sdark red), and he looks every bit the star he is. Not that Aaron is evertelling him that.

That said, someone tonight isgoing to test whether people can actually cry from sexual frustration and thatperson is Aaron.

-

The night is a blur ofperformances and awards and speeches and Aaron finds himself enjoying the experience.Especially whenever Robert leans into him to whisper something mean andsarcastic in his ear. By the time they’re ready to announce Robert’s category,Aaron’s about ready to kiss him or kill him. Whichever option becomes availablefirst, really.

An overly tanned blonde manAaron doesn’t recognize is on stage, opening the envelope with what he mightthink is panache but it’s mostly just making Aaron’s hands itch.

“And the award for maleperformer of the year goes to…”

A beat.

“Robert Sugden!”

Aaron jumps up his seat, theentire room roaring into applause and cheers. It might have been his abuse of theopen bar, or his genuine happiness, or maybe just the fact that he’s been wantingto do this for a while. He grabs Robert by the lapels of his jacket and kisseshim for all he’s worth.

Robert kisses him back.

It only lasts a few secondsbefore Robert has to go accept his awards, but it leaves Aaron’s mouth tinglingand his spine shivering. Aaron can’t hear a word of Robert’s speech, theroaring in his ears too loud.

-

The after is a blur of congratulationsand drinks and there’s an afterparty to attend, but Robert holds Aaron’s handthe entire time.

-

The thing is: Robert is allaction, it’s just that sometimes those actions aren’t obvious to the uninitiated.Like buying someone a coat without telling them about it, or asking them to behis fake boyfriend, or opening up to and being vulnerable with them.

-

“I’ve been trying to date youfor months!” Robert insists, the two of them tangled in bed.

-

AaronDingle @aarondingledon’t tell @rjsugden I said this, but his new album’s alright

Merry Christmas, @aussiebee!

******

Dear Journal, I’m not calling you a diary, as this is in no way a diary. This is a scientific journal. Or something. Yeah, I’m not very good at this either way. BUT! Considering this is for my own use only, I don’t have to be! Take THAT, Harris! Of course I am getting rambly and miss the point of the exercise!

Right. What is the exercise you might ask? I will tell you! You see, dear journal, there is this guy. Pretty hot guy, if I do say so myself. The hottest. Like water is evaporating with his hotness before he can actually drink it. I’m surprised he isn’t dead from dehydration... Wonder how long you could last if you were just drinking steam...

I’m back! Yeah, I get carried away sometimes. Get used to it. Right. So. Hot guy. His name is Derek. Derek has chest and arms carved by gods, eyebrows that can make you question the stupidity of your existence just by turning your way, and the cutest bunny teeth you’ve ever seen. I’m also pretty sure Derek is a werewolf.

Your first question might be, what kind of werewolf. Well, if you think about movies, there’s a lot of possibilities. But the only real ones (as far as american magical scientific society knows) are the ones who can turn at will into wolfy-looking two legged monsters with claws and teeth from hell and can flash their eyes either gold, blue or red, according to their power status. Which is more complicated and I actually took a course on that, so... That would be for longer. How do I know Derek in particular is a werewolf, you ask? For several reasons. Derek himself is not that subtle, if you know what to look for. Especially when he is with his pack, which... is another group of ridiculously hot people.

Anyway, he sniffs everyone he meets sooner or later, he touches everyone he considers friend a lot and he growls at people he doesn’t like. Also, I actually saw his eyes flash three months ago on a full moon. Yeah, werewolves don’t have to change on a full moon. They are just much more likely to wolf out then. I even think I can anticipate your third question, that’s how awesome I am. How the hell do you know so much about Derek? Are you a stalker? Ok, that’s technically two questions.

The answer would be... kinda? If you didn’t notice from my description of his cute teeth when he laughs, I am kinda crushing hard. I’ve been for the last half a year since Derek transferred to our uni. And I admit I can get a bit... obsessive. Just ask Lydia Martin from my high school. She has forgiven me since then, but there was a reason why I was able to tell them the exact shade of her hair, when she went temporarily missing... I am trying to hold back with Derek. While I do have his schedule memorised (I can’t help it, it just sticks in my head...), I haven’t (yet) followed him around campus to see where he eats and I haven’t (yet) grilled all of his friends about his likes and dislikes. If you didn’t notice, I’m kinda proud of myself.

I am kinda tired of just obsessing from a distance, though... And that is where this experiment comes in. I got a book about werewolves from the school library. Every university has at least one magical course, and a section of the library open only to the students of it. Which I am. If you were wondering. Probably not. Anyway. The book on werewolves. I used it for a final essay on werewolf packs and their most common dynamics for the werewolf power status course, but there was this section... On how to date a werewolf. As a human. Which is kinda cool? And I really wanna try it? On Derek, specifically?

So! We are going to be treating this as an experiment and I will try to note my successes and unavoidable failures here. Wish me luck, dear journal! You piece of recycled paper.

Stiles

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

1. Making an eye-contact

One of the very important things you need to do before wooing a werewolf is getting their attention. Now the best and easiest way by far is to make an eye-contact and wait for them to invite you closer. A bit creepy by human standards, I grant you dear journal, but... well, the author and the A on my werewolf essay says to trust this book so. Here I go.

Ok, journal, this was a biiiit of a mistake. Well, not completely, I guess. I looked at Derek really intently during lunch. For the whole half an hour. As I said, it’s a bit creepy by human standards. So of course, Derek looks up, looks around, looks at me again, and... Starts glaring. And I must be completely doomed, dear journal, far more than I even realized. Because I have never thought you could be this combination of terrified and aroused. His big friend (Boyle?) was even getting up and coming my way... I bolted. I like my life too much and am unfortunately a grade A coward. Oh well. Attempt number two.

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

2. Leaving your scent behind

Werewolves naturally rely on sense of smell for orientation. Especially when it comes to their pack-mates and potential mates. I don’t necessarily have a concrete plan in mind... The book offered/suggested leaving behind articles of often worn clothing, spending a lot of time in places they frequent, like their favourite armchair and stuff, and so on... None of which is of course doable and still remains in the sweet sweet area of deniability.

So, I had to become creative. Remember when I said I had Derek’s schedule memorized? Well, it really was just finding out where he sits. I left my favourite hoodie there. Sacrificed it for the greater good. When people will talk about my inevitable failure, I hope they will mention the Great Loss of the Red Hoodie. It disappeared of course. I do not believe Derek took it. Somebody else must have gotten to the classroom first and decided they don’t have enough clothing. Or something. I liked that hoodie. This sucks.

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

3. Making yourself known

I do know I had said that the last one will be hard to try out and look innocent if it comes out, but this is basically impossible. I actually have to go and talk to the guy! Damn. This book is killing me. That’s what I get for only skimming through the chapter titles before deciding to go through with the plan. Oh well. Dear journal, it is far too late to back out now. Be the hero your best friend thinks you are. He might be wrong in this, but you have to at least try. Scott is counting on you. Well, the poor sod thinks I’m just getting my courage together to try and talk to Derek like a normal person, but... Eh. No. This way is more interesting. Here I go! No turning back now!

Abort abort abort! This wasn’t even moderately a good idea! I just came up to him, waited looking at him until he turned in my direction and then squeaked. In my defence, he was with

the rest of his pack, all of them looking Tall, Gorgeous and like they wanted to eat me alive. Especially the hot blond. She actually licked her teeth. It was scary. So there I stand, having just came up with the sound of a dying rat, Derek judging me with his eyebrows and the rest of the pack laughing at me and intimidating me even further. I said something about him having a nice shirt and once again (you guessed it) bolted. I am sitting in the bathroom now. Locked in the last cabin and writing in this excuse of a journal. God, I really thought I had left the times of hiding in the bathroom behind after gratuating high school...

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

4. Being a good provider

Nothing tells a werewolf you like them as much as you bringing them food and showing them you can take care of not only yourself, but of them as well. This of course doesn’t necessarily extend just to the food. Why do you think I’ve done laundry so often in the last few weeks? I actually have more than three pairs of underwear at any time. A bit weird. Anyway. You might know my family is originally from Poland. I don’t speak polish or anything, which... Shame. It’s a pretty cool language. But my grandmother did leave me one (1) recipe for a polish speciality. Pierogi. I can make them. Mostly. I made them quite a few times at home at least. And they have always turned out good. The thing is, there I have a real kitchen to use. Here in the dorms? Not so much. But what am I if not persistent? Even if I do end up chickening out and not bringing Derek anything, I damn want some pierogi for myself now.

That went... Surprisingly well. Like. Freakishly well. Granted, I went to use the kitchen at one in the morning specifically to have it all to myself, but... there was even a spare pan. Who would have thought? I also ended eating like half of them... But at least I know they taste good, right? Now I just have to find Derek and share some with him. He tends to go to the library on Fridays... That could work well, right?

So... Has anyone told you you shouldn’t eat in the library? That you are going to get thrown out on your ass if you do? Apparently, there is a new librarian/bouncer at the uni... And she takes her job very seriously. She also looks like she does karate or something, because despite being small and cute, she actually bodily lifted me up and carried me out of the door. Bright side? I did manage to talk to Derek for about two minutes before offering him the pierogi and subsequently getting thrown out on my ass. But that also meant Derek actually saw the whole thing from the front row seat, including (but not limited to) the aforementioned polish treat scattering all over the pavement. And laughing quite a bit about it. He didn’t come out of the library to help me. Just stared at me through the window and laughing. Ow. Ow, my dear journal. My feelings. But damn it, I have already come this far!

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

5. Making a good impression on the Pack

Once again, something easier said than done. The whole pack is intimidatingly gorgeous. There’s Boyd (that’s his name!) who’s big and smooth and has a chocolate skin straight from the factory. There’s Erica, who’s tall, blond and has a rack from heaven. And speaking of heaven there’s Isaac, who actually looks like one of those cherubs from some kind of a painting. It’s all really unfair. And don’t even get me started on Derek’s younger sister Cora. I think Derek might have another older one, buut... What do I know, I’m just a mild stalker. The book calls for me to make friends with all of them, so that they can put in a good word for me

but also to let Derek know I would work well with his pack. But at this point an argument could be made that I am pretty much suicidal. Let’s do this!

That went... Surprisingly well. I tried to start with Boyd, but he’s not really... talkative. Erica, his girlfriend as it turns out is, though. And she knows a lot about comics. We shared at least a half an hour of discussion on DC comics. She’s my new catwoman. It’s awesome. And Isaac is not that bad either. He’s a little sarcastic shit, but so am I. I think we hit it off. Even Boyd seemed to start to warm up to me by the end. He even said bye and hit my shoulder so hard I almost fell down! It was awesome! Now, I tried to ask around about Cora... Turns out she’s studying at the other uni in the city. Also, yes, Derek has another sister. Who, it turns out, is Laura Hale the California state attorney. That is... So awesome. Really intimidating. But awesome. I wasn’t able to meet them though. And I decided I should probably stop asking so much as the people were actually starting to look suspicious... But! This was really encouraging! Dear journal, I might be onto something here. Let’s go for the final step!

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

Interlude: Derek

Derek was starting to get mildly paranoid. Is it a bad sign, that the kid you’ve been mildly crushing on, is suddenly behaving really strangely? Derek first noticed him about three months back. He was tall, had surprisingly broad shoulders and eyes like molten gold. And there were cute moles all over his face, that Derek desperately wanted to count with his lips. And this is the part where Cora got up, sent him her best disgusted look and went to tattle on him to mum. Who of course immediately called him and gushed about his first real crush... It was really embarrassing. The point is... He never really thought it would go anywhere. The kid didn’t smell like a werewolf, just something spicy and warm. There was something familiar about that smell, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t any kind of supernatural creature. He just probably liked using the same spices his mum did. So Derek has decided to watch from afar, marvel at the cute smile the kid had every time he found something interesting in the library and maaaybe overshare a bit with his friends.

And then one day the kid stared at him for ten whole solid minutes. And he suddenly looked like a little psychopath. Derek found himself panicking. Does he know about the werewolf thing? Or worse, does he know that Derek has a crush of the size of Cali? Will the boy try to murder him in his sleep? Or maybe kidnap him and use him as an experiment in one of his classes? Who knows, really... Even through his quiet protests, Boyd started to get up to find out, what was his problem, when the kid bolted. Actually ran away. Derek was left baffled. Things really started getting weirder from there.

There was a hoodie left on his seat in introductory econ. Derek was fairly sure it was The Kid’s, just by the scent. He valiantly avoided burying his nose in it and stuffed it inside his backpack. He put it in the Lost and Found later that day. His backpack still faintly smells like the warm spice. If Derek sometimes sticks his face inside it and then claims to any passerby, that he can’t find something, that’s nobody’s business.

And then the kid actually came over. Derek felt a wave of nervousness course through him, but also... Hope? Maybe the kid feels the same way? And then he just... squeaked and ran away again. His friends of course saw his nervousness and made fun of him for the rest of the week. Great.

The incident with the food actually looked really promising. The kid’s name is Stiles, it turns out. Not really a common name, but who is Derek to judge. It strangely seems to suit him.

The weird little dumplings didn’t look that appetizing, but they did smell heavenly, with ground meat and cheese. So of course it was only a matter of time Stiles was thrown out from the library. Derek didn’t necessarily think it was called for to actually throw Stiles out but... the face he made was adorable. Maybe Derek shouldn’t have laughed at him like that, but it was just... so funny. He actually looked for a minute like Laura’s toddler when somebody denied him a toy. Shame about the food. Derek at that point firmly decided to finally do something about his stupid crush. The werewolf thing wasn’t ideal, but... Maybe his mum would give Stiles the talk over the summer? He will ask, when he calls her on Friday.

Which he did. After that his mother cooed about him bringing a boyfriend home the whole call, with Laura joining her at the end. Those two were really far too similar. But yes, he had the official go ahead from his alpha to try and court this human. With a newfound determination, he went to search the campus for his hopefully future boyfriend. And he wasn’t able to find him anywhere. His friends apparently talked to him for a whole half an hour, and Erica actually gushed about her new Batman-loving friend for the next few days... And then Cora called him. Stiles has tried to ask around for her at her own uni on the other side of town. Is he trying to... what? Derek didn’t understand this at all. But it still seems strangely sweet. Derek smiles to himself. Ok, he really needs to find him now.

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

6. Actual asking out

My dear journal! This is the day! I’m actually waiting outside of Derek’s last class of the day. Either way our shared suffering is over. The experiment shall be concluded after today. I will either spent the evening in the arms of a sexy werewolf or drunkenly crying into Scott’s shoulder. Fingers crossed for the first one, but let’s be honest, with how the steps went, the second one is far more likely. I am a realist, my dear journal. I’ve already bought the alcohol. It’s sitting innocently in my cupboard for now, but one word and Scott--- “Hi.”

Stiles raised his head and squeaked. Again. Derek was standing above him in the rapidly emptying corridor and... smiling? Oh god, he’s even cuter than Stiles previously thought!

“Eeer... Hi! Hi. Sorry about that, I kinda spaced out there for a bit. I do that sometimes, just, you know, sit around and think about... stuff... and... Yeah.”

Derek has been looking at him with this weird expression, almost a... affectionate one, dare he say it? He finally shuts up, and just stands there and stares back. Maybe, if he waits for a bit longer, the perfectly scripted speech he had memorized yesterday, will come back to him.

“So... “ Derek looks down and then back up at him shyly. “I actually wanted to talk to you, about something...” He nervously bites his lip and Stiles almost melts inside. How can a person be so unbearably hot yet so cute and adorable at the same time? How is that even humanly possible?

Stiles finally clears his throat. “Yeah, me too, actually. But you go first!” Because if Derek is planning to ask him to stop stalking him, the love confession will be... Awkward, to say the least.

Derek laughs a little and nods. “Okay... Right. Well. I just really like you. And I would really invite you for coffee.”

Stiles feels his jaw fall somewhere towards the ground. What? “What?”

Derek starts to look a little crestfallen, but pulls back his shoulders and says it again, louder. “I really like you and I would like to invite you for coffee sometimes. If you drink coffee. If not then for tea. Or something.”

Stiles blinks at him a few times, his brain still scrambling wildly to catch up to what his ears are actually hearing. “I like coffee.” He finally manages to get out. Derek smiles in relief and it’s like the sun has come up after a rainy day.

“Is five o’clock tomorrow good with you? We could meet at the Full Moon Café around the corner from the campus...”

“Oh, the one that serves the werewolf version of coffee? Sure.” Brain to mouth filter, Stiles! Now Derek looks really really startled. And not in the good way. “Right... Sorry, I know about the whole...” Stiles wildly gesticulates towards Derek “werewolf thing.”

“Oh... that’s a relief actually.” Derek blinks a few times. “So... see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah... See you.” Stiles waves after a hurriedly retreating Derek in a fake cool and collected manner, before getting down to the floor, curling into a ball and proceeding to quietly freak out over the whole thing. He’s going to a date with Derek effing Hale!

“So... did my plan work?”

“What plan?”

“My plan to woo you the werewolf way. I stared at you, I made you food, I sacrificed my favourite hoodie for you... Tell me it wasn’t for nothing! Please...”

“Stiles, your hoodie is still at the Lost and Found at the Information center.”

“Oh... Cool. So. Did it work.”

“You are far too lucky you are so cute.”

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

“That wasn’t a no though.”

Title: Going Solo (bind up of the Casual Car Sex series) Author: Storm Stone Genre: erotica Page Count: 398 Format: kindle Trigger Warnings: rape, abuse, homophobia, biphobia Rating: 1/5 stars

I’m going to say this once and only once and I hope it sinks in: this is the worst book I’ve ever read. Bar none. Not worst of the month, worst of the year, but worst book ever. I’m at a point where it’s already at the number one spot for Worst Book of 2019, and being sad that I had to pay seven dollars for this on kindle. I want my money back. I don’t even know where to begin with this one, honestly. There’s a lot to unpack and I’m tired. But we shall try.

I should probably say that if it hadn’t been for the book club I’m doing with my friend (a NA contemporary or erotica a month), I wouldn’t have ever read this book. That said, it didn’t do anything to sell me on it, and now we’ll try to get into it.

 WHAT I LIKED

Hahahahahahahahahahahaha. there isn’t a damn thing to like in this book.

WHAT I DISLIKED HATED

Oh god. Where do I start? Well, for starters, the main love interest, Damon, is a complete and utter jackass. He’s abusive and awful. He’s got the emotional maturity of a three-year-old and he’s an egotistical misogynist. I don’t know how completely articulate how awful and unself aware Damon is. Whenever he and Jemma have a fight (which we will come back to), he always justifies it to himself by saying like “it couldn’t be his fault, could it?” and “Nah, she liked it,” and other such statements. And he NEVER learns to be more self aware. I know most erotica heroes are awful, I’ve talked about a few of them (Adam from At Any Price, and spoiler alert for my A Thousand Letters review, but Wade definitely toes the line too), but damn. Even some of the most awful guys I’ve read were easier to hear about than Damon. Or, at the VERY least, on the surface, I could see why the main protagonist was into them (Adam and Christian are billionaires, Wade and Elliot’s relationship ran deep). There is NOTHING in Damon’s character that makes him desirable, unless you count his dick. Nothing redeemable.

On the other hand, our main girl Jemma isn’t winning any awards either. She writes this blog, Going Solo, on the wonders of masturbation, which I guess is supposed to encourage women to “go solo” and not need a man. I say I guess, because Damon gets butthurt about that at one point, but we never get to see any of her articles. We never get to see a single piece of her writing. So we’re told “this is super popular and empowering” (so much that Jemma literally gets a book deal out of it), but we don’t get to see it. She also has a “fantasies” section on her blog, which also becomes a small plot point because of Damon’s sadistic nature, but I’ll come back to that. Jemma literally has no backbone. Not a one. And she’s not very smart to boot. Like, okay. Think of your least favorite “lego brick” character: maybe it’s Bella Swan or Anastasia Steele, maybe it’s Mia or Elliot or a whole host of characters. Jemma has them all beat.

She literally gives up all of her convictions because Damon’s cock is magical I guess. She does masturbate in the book, but never for long, and only thinking about Damon, and there’s no commentary on how masturbating makes her feel or how it empowers her. Which I guess is fitting because Jemma isn’t supposed to be empowered.

Pretty much every single sex scene in this book is a r*pe scene in one form or another. Jemma is either too drunk to consent, which happens at least twice (one of which she PASSES OUT DURING SEX and Damon thinks he killed her. I’m not joking), and the other times she’s just regular drunk. Every other time, Jemma straight up tells him no, and he continues to touch her or do something to her anyway. Which is laughable because Damon says he’s not the type of guy to force a woman to do anything she doesn’t want to, which is undercut by everything else in the book.

He constantly says “tell me no and I’ll stop and leave” and he never does. At one point, he says “tell me no and I’ll leave and our affair will be over” and Jemma doesn’t want that, so she submits anyway. And like. That’s not how consent works. Like not even a little bit.

Damon uses BDSM to punish Jemma for “lying” to him about not knowing who he was. Which is a stupid plot point on its own (basically Damon thought she intentionally seeked him out because of a past scandal to gain hits on her blog and wouldn’t listen to her when she told him she literally had no idea what he was talking about), but mostly I just want to say, if you’re using BDSM as a form of pain, not pleasure, than it’s NOT BDSM and just you being an abusive asshole.

Damon LITERALLY STALKED her at one point and they played it off as cute and quirky and romantic. It’s not.

The entire scene where they have sex in public. Jemma has constantly said she doesn’t want to have sex in public, telling Damon again and again that it’s a FANTASY, not that she actually wants it (which, I don’t fully get, but whatever), but Damon doesn’t believe her and basically has sex with her, in public at this sex bar/club/thing. And it traumatizes her. She hates it. She’s pissed at him. And Damon literally doesn’t understand what he did wrong. You’ll have to forgive me, I skimmed this part of the book and I don’t know if she explicitly said “no,” but I DO know it was something she never wanted.

The stupid ending where she goes back to England, only to fly BACK to Las Vegas because he got in a motorcycle accident. They admit they love each other and live happily ever after. They end up MARRIED at the end of the book. They’ve probably known each other for a month, two tops.

There’s a lot of girl hate in this book.

There’s also rampant homophobia, the d slur getting thrown around multiple times, and the one gay guy in the book being a walking stereotype. And that’s not even touching the one bi character in the book getting the manipulative, slutty, deviant characterization.

In conclusion, and I mean this with every bone and atom in my body, fuck this book.

Sticking With the Schuylers (18B)

Surprise! There’s actually 3 parts to this chapter now, because after editing and re-configuring I decided to split B into two instead of having it be the mega-huge length it was (I mean, huge compared to the average length.Plus, I like to make you guys hang a little.)

As a side-note, I’m going to NYC for my birthday in less than 50 days (a product of years of saving and 3 jobs on my part) and my hotel is deadass right near the Waldorf Astoria. So I’ll be dying a slow death right in the heart of the setting of this story. 

In this part...well, you’ll see.

1  2  3  4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   12   I   13  14   15   16   17   18A

Forks clinking clumsily around plates stacked with seafood, meat  that’s been carved right in front of the patrons, and greedy portions of caviar that’s been spooned on just about everything. The guests linger around the high tables set in the middle of the rooftop, eating dainty bites of the decadent array of foods while they gossip.

               There’s a certain table, one that hugs the rooftop and allows a spectacular view of the city down below. The Schuyler sisters have always had this table, no questions asked. Today is no exception; Elizabeth sits closest to the glass fencing, her eyes trained more on the traffic of the city than the bustling of politicians and businessmen round the rooftop.

Angelica is up and moving around the crowd today, standing at a high-top table with some woman in a pencil skirt Eliza has never seen before. She can tell immediately that there’s some sort of deal going on; Angelica is poised, her public smile on as she shakes hands with the woman. They laugh. The oldest Schuyler has always been a charmer in the business world.

Peggy sits across from Eliza, chatting animatedly to her middle sister as she rummages through her bag. Finally, she winks as she unearths a small, keychain-sized bottle of Sriracha.

               “Cover me,” Eliza laughs as her little sister douses her plate of seafood in the vibrant red sauce, her actions hasty as she continues to scan the room. Then she tucks the bottle back in her purse, grinning wildly before tucking into her meal.

               “You’re ridiculous.”

               “I take offense to that. I’m actually a genius, nobody has discovered my brilliance yet.”

               “Okay, sure.” Angelica’s begun to make her way back across the throng but is stopped again, putting her charm back on and leaning against the railing. Elizabeth laughs.

               “Angie’s really starting to get the hang of these things.” She gestures to their older sister. Peggy rolls her eyes, leaning back in her chair.

               “I pray we don’t end up like that.” She stabs a shrimp with her fork in defiance. “The last thing I want is to be one of these old fuddies for the rest of my life.”

               “Margarita, watch your mouth.” The youngest Schuyler shrinks in her seat upon hearing her father’s voice, mumbling an apology through a mouth full of food before casting her gaze guiltily down to her plate. Eliza draws in a breath herself, raising her posture in her chair and giving her father a warm smile before gesturing to the empty seat at their table. He obliges, unbuttoning the single button on his suit coat before sitting next to Peggy, setting his folded hands on the table.

               “Are you enjoying what the chef made you today?” Eliza nods, poking her fork through the beautifully arranged mass of potato, egg, and avocado to prove herself.

               “I’ve already sent my compliments to the chef.”

               “Good.”

               “It’s really wonderful that they’re always so prepared to serve vegetarian when I’m here.”

               “It’s their job, sweetheart. That’s why we choose the Waldorf-they’re always doing their jobs just right around here.”

               The middle Schuyler sister simply smiles, taking another bit of her dish. She wasn’t particularly hungry today, or even in the mood to entertain her father. But she always seemed to put on a good show, because while Peggy was choking over their father’s blunt and entitled manner Eliza was composing herself quite well. They linger in silence for a while, the girls taking longer to eat so that they might use the social faux pas of a full mouth to excuse themselves from further conversation. It isn’t as if they dislike their father; no, he’s a good man-good with business and good in keeping their family together. However Phillip Schuyler had a habit of making his wealth and good status known-a habit that made Eliza especially uncomfortable.

               He stays at the table, clearing his throat a few times before both girls finally look up from their plates of food. Their father’s expression is serious; thin lips drawn into a straight line, eyes earnest and searching. He’s staring back at Eliza. She takes in a long, drawn out breath.

               “So there was an interesting article in People the other day that was brought to my attention.”

               “Oh?”

               “Actually, there were two. Two articles about you within the past two weeks.” She still doesn’t respond, eyes set and teeth skimming her bottom lip in a search of comfort. Peggy looks on, unsure of what to do or say other than continuing on with her meal. That, and beginning a silent search for their oldest sister. She’s sure Angelica would know how to diffuse the situation.

               “I was hoping you’d tell me a little bit more about this mystery man that’s seemed to grab everyone’s attention.”

               Her face flushes immediately and Peggy excuses herself from the table, the need to search for her oldest sister becoming more frantic upon the topic of conversation. Eliza sighs internally upon being abandoned, to have this conversation alone with her father.

               “He’s a really wonderful person, dad.”

               “And I’m sure he is. I was just hoping that after the release of that first article last week that you might have been considering something else.”

               “I’m not sure I know what you mean.” She’s quiet, and suddenly her avocado hash is much more interesting than the conversation at hand. She too begins to scan the room for her sisters, wondering where the hell could have gone off to or who stopped them for conversation. At this point, she’d do anything to escape the inevitable awkward turn this ‘talk’ would have to take.

               “Sweetheart, I mean James. He was one of the good ones-mature, handsome…a politician, even. Did you hear he’s already planning a run for office within the city council?” Her father continues his rambling, speaking with his hands as he does only when he feels great excitement or exuberance about a concept. He chirps out words like wonderful and charming between his name. Her stomach churns, and she pushes the rest of her hash away in fears of throwing it back up. And then her father rises from the table, grinning wildly as he gestures between Eliza and somebody else. And then, she looks up.

               Eliza locks eyes with the stranger.

               The man smiles, a trademark smirk she’s only seen on one other pair of filled-out lips.

               Eliza’s head begins to spin.

               “Darling, this is,”

               “Scott Reynolds. Yes, Elizabeth and I have met before, Phillip. My son continues to speak very highly of you, Elizabeth.”

               Managing to pull a seemingly heartfelt smile from deep within herself is the hardest feat Eliza has ever been forced to complete. But she does it, rising from her chair to shake hands with the man. His hands are cold. His grip is tight. And when she pulls her hand back to herself Scott Reynolds lets his eyes trail up and down her figure. Her head is spinning.

               The men begin to converse in a way that only slightly includes her, mentioning her every so often. The chatter is more about her than with her, thankfully, so for a while she is only resigned to nodding her head and smiling politely. She waits, rather impatiently, for a break in the conversation to excuse herself. But she can barely keep up with what the men are saying; the new acquaintance’s eyes are so familiar to his son’s that even standing next to him has sent shivers up her spine. She excuses herself with a reserved voice and a forced smile, kissing her father on the cheek.

               There must be at least 100 people on this rooftop. She can barely see anything through the throng of businessmen and politicians, wives standing around high tables and young children crowded around the chocolate fountain. There’s so much going on; continual babbling that’s turned to incoherent conversation from the ringing of her ears. Faces come in and out of her vision as she struggles to keep her head above the water, counting methodically from one to nine and back again. Counting like Alexander had taught her the other night.

               She frantically searches for her phone in her cross-body, pulling it out and dialing the number with shaky thumbs. Thankfully, the warm voice greets her after the first ring. She’s still trying to push her way through the throngs of people, excusing herself with a whispered voice and averted eyes. The last thing she wants is to draw more attention to herself.

               “Eliza, are you there?”

               “Y-yes, yes, I’m here. I’m…can you come get me?” She’s finally out of the mass of people, in a corner by the elevators and a leafy potted plant. She leans against the wall, phone pressed hard against her ear as she attempts to focus on her breathing.

               “I’m on my way. You’re at the Waldorf?”

               “Yes.”

               “Are you hurt?”

               “No.”

               “Where are your sisters?”

               “I don’t know.” She’s audibly crying now, breaths coming in light hiccups that tighten her diaphragm. On the other side of the phone she can hear traffic; the usual bustling of the city, just barely audible underneath his panicked voice.

               “Okay, stay where you are. I’m only a few blocks away. Breathe. One..two…three…four…” He counts to nine and back as many times as he can, prodding her with reminders to stay on the phone with him and updates on his location. A horn blares and he curses back, apologizing before promising he’ll be there soon.

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Seashell accumulating is a superb activity that can present you with happy recollections of seaside getaways. Seashells can be academic for children and in addition are actually excellent ornamental highlights to the home.

As we discussed, pastimes may differ from your straightforward moving passions or is definitely an all eating interest. They could be used to communicate creativeness or could be molded in to a lucrative enterprise that can improve your life. Should you be looking for a g=pastime that fits your likes and dislikes and abilities, read more below.

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7 Tips about Writing an Efficient Insurance coverage Enchantment

Insurance coverage declare rejected? Nicely, it’s not an entire useless finish, however you’ll need to file an insurance coverage attraction.

For the reason that common insurer isn’t probably the most empathetic, you’d higher have Martin-Luther-King-Ranges of persuasiveness. Insurers are specialists at poking holes in arguments, particularly written ones.

So earlier than your fireplace off that attraction letter or e-mail, try the pointers on this article.

  1. Discover out why your insurance coverage declare was rejected

First issues first, earlier than you go forward and write that attraction letter, you’ll want to know why the declare was rejected. Whether it is as a result of the sickness isn’t lined or that you’ve exceeded the protection limits, you may not have a case. Don’t waste your time on an attraction. Be taught out of your lesson and get higher insurance coverage subsequent time.

However whether it is one thing you may repair by asking for a physician’s letter, rectifying a billing error, or supplying different types of proof, you’d undoubtedly wish to put your letter-writing expertise to job immediately.

  2. Get straight to the purpose

The opening paragraph shouldn’t be a rant on how enraged you might be, why you’re disillusioned, and many others. There’s room for that, but it surely’s on the closing of the attraction letter.

Like another criticism that you’re making, it’s best to give precise particulars reminiscent of coverage quantity, identify, contact numbers and the rationale to your attraction.

The opening must be immediately related, as a result of that’s when you’ve got the insurer’s full consideration.

And also you wish to embrace the next immediately:

A brief sentence about your declare and why it was rejected A abstract (possibly like this set of bullet factors) on why you might be interesting What you anticipate the insurance coverage firm to do (e.g. full pay out? Partial? Ship you an apology? and many others.)

Ideally, you all that in a single opening paragraph, in 100 phrases or much less. Keep away from verbose phrases as it’s going to trigger readers (your insurer) to begin “skimming” they usually would possibly miss particulars.

  three. Get supporting paperwork for the insurance coverage attraction

Don’t simply write “in accordance with my physician / dentist / mechanic…” In case you have a supporting assertion from knowledgeable, get it instantly from them and embrace it in your insurance coverage attraction.

Most medical doctors solely cost a small payment to jot down a supporting assertion, and a few household medical doctors don’t cost in any respect. If attainable, get a referral (and subsequently a letter) from a specialist. That is sometimes used for late harm claims. Say, for instance, you bought whiplash from an accident. However you didn’t discover  until after you made your declare. You’d then require a physician’s letter, stating your present situation is because of the similar accident.

If you happen to’re coping with automotive insurance coverage, ask the mechanics for detailed receipts or invoices. You may additionally go to a couple of authorized mechanic, and request quotations from them. That is particularly helpful when disputing restore costs.

  four. Point out if members of the family even have insurance policies

In case your different members of the family have insurance policies from the identical insurer, it’s best to point out it. Don’t dedicate an entire paragraph to it, simply slip it in a sentence, like this:

…which particularly considerations me, as my spouse additionally has a coverage from you …and can also be a priority to my speedy household, all of whom purchase insurance policies from you As all of my household (spouse and three kids) have insurance policies beneath you…

Most insurers dislike the prospect of shedding a number of insurance policies (your entire household) without delay. However no matter you do, by no means phrase this as a direct menace. Insurers are human too, and dig of their heels.

  5. Title names, when you have spoken to somebody

Earlier than you have been instructed to file an attraction, you most likely had telephone conversations along with your insurer. Whilst you have been doing that, you will have gotten some worker names.

Remember to point out these names when writing your attraction. First, this prevents the infamous “ping pong” impact. If you happen to write that “I spoke to Melanie and was instructed file an attraction”, that’s prone to be simpler.

  6. Point out the follow-up

Immediate the insurer for a follow-up. The simplest method to do that is to jot down: “I hope I can get a response by subsequent week. In any other case, I’ll observe up throughout the subsequent X days.” Make it obvious that you’ll turn out to be troublesome persistent in the event that they don’t provide you with a response. This can warrant some a lot wanted consideration, as you’re competing with a towering pile of appeals.

And if the insurer doesn’t observe up, you now have a file of it. Within the occasion of authorized dispute, you may show the insurer was reluctant to speak with you “regardless of your greatest efforts”.

  7. Clarify the way it saves them cash

This trick normally works for medical insurance coverage appeals.

They don’t wish to pay to your inhaler? High-quality, they will pay your hospital payments while you subsequent have an bronchial asthma assault. Don’t wish to pay for dental surgical procedure? Positive, but it surely might imply a root canal they’re paying for sooner or later. The concept is that, by not serving to you get the tools or process you want, the insurer might find yourself paying much more in the long term.

Merely clarify how overlaying the price of your process can save your insurer cash. As with level three, don’t make it a direct menace, however concisely comment that it’s “mutually helpful” for them to cowl it, and have your physician supply a value comparability.

If all else fails, contact FIDReC (Monetary Business Disputes Decision Centre Ltd), an impartial organisation for resolving disputes between monetary establishments and customers.

  Nonetheless nervous about getting good insurance coverage?

Get an excellent insurer, and also you gained’t need to do any of this. Perform some research when getting insurance coverage; don’t simply decide from the businesses that decision you first.

You’ll be able to evaluate insurance policies and get recommendation on the MoneySmart website for journey insurance coverage and automotive insurance coverage.

Have you ever ever written an insurance coverage attraction? Remark and tell us the way it went!

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Web Crusher Review

Web Crusher is THE fastest means to produce website design, sales letters & landing pages for 2018. It is the most effective method to develop profit-pulling websites.

How You Can Design Kickass Long Type Sales Pages

now those sales pages that are truly, really long? They're fantastic, however they mostly suck. I imply the means they are typically implemented sucks. Long kind sales web pages have their area, as well as they function very well in many situations. (Heck-- my own agency has one). Think about it-- the reason you have an internet site is because you wish to offer something. If you just have a single item, there's no actual need to have greater than one web page. The only information you should carry your website is just what makes the user recognize the item, i.e. its advantages as well as use cases. This helps consumers decide about whether the item addresses their particular trouble promptly. Clicking through several different web pages just gets in the way.

Some call them mini-sites, some state one-pagers. Same exact same. If you're making use of landing web pages to record PPC web traffic, and also you want them to buy something, you're most likely making use of a sales web page as well (or should!). Why that much copy? The quantity of duplicate you require depends upon the complexity and also expense of the product. The a lot more challenging and/or costly the product, the much more you need to discuss, reveal, inform, convince. If you're selling a box of matches for $0.25-- and also I need one-- I do not have to read any kind of duplicate. I just purchase it. The product is simple and also cheap. On the various other hand, if I'm on the market for a brand-new auto or a residence-- both complex (lots of things to find out about them) and also expensive-- I will certainly take weeks and also months to do study, check out and also compare. If you're offering something that costs claim $300-- I do not need weeks, however I do require a sufficient quantity of details before I could justify (to myself, to my spouse, to my boss etc) such a cost. Customers are viewers Concerned that your Web Crusher Review is too long? Don't. If somebody is ready to acquire after simply a brief skim-- having simply check out ~ 20% of the copy-- they could simply skip in advance and also click 'get'. No problem. However if someone reviews ALL the text on your site as well as STILL has concerns as well as questions, after that you've obtained a problem. This is why long form duplicate functions well. Real-- the majority of people will certainly not review the whole sales copy-- which's okay. It's not a book. The consumers that do are the ones who are really mosting likely to get.

However lengthy form sales web pages are cheesy as well as scammy! This is the reason I claimed "they mainly draw". I agree-- a lot of them are ridiculously cheesy as well as scammy. You're dead-on. This is why a great deal of individuals despise them. I visited Clickbank and picked some arbitrary products from their market. Right here are 3 regular long-form sales web pages. Random crap I found # 1: Exclamation notes! Check. Buzz! Check. THE Absolute finest! Inspect. This have to be marketing like crazy. (In case you were questioning, it's not.).

Random crap I located # 2:. They couldn't even get their logo screen right and the headline is unreadable. Random crap 3:. Another instance of "tested headline formula" at work.

Tough cool facts around lengthy form sales pages. A lot of them resemble vomit. Worse, really. The copy is written by boneheads who think that adding exclamation marks as well as hype right into every sentence improves sales. (Mature.). A great deal of the products offered using lengthy type sales web pages are actually rip-off. It resembles the easiest organisation to do-- simply develop a pdf data and begin offering it. That's why it brings in a lot of losers. The obstacle of entry is extremely low, so any idiot could begin. If you Google around long type sales duplicate, you will find great deals of vital article such as this one, yet you will certainly also see that the objection is everything about the implementation. I wish to advise you-- it's not the format, it's the execution that sucks. Long type sales pages could look terrific. It is possible to work with someone that could create terrific duplicate. Fantastic products could be offered with lengthy type sales web pages-- and also not just infoproducts. Right here's a long form web page we just developed for a customer. It's not an infoproduct. The duplicate is not tacky. Looks kickass. (Click to see the whole web page).

In the past, you should have discovered among those lengthy sales web page that never ever seem to finish. Most developers dislike lengthy sales letters because they consist of lots of message but evidently do not have on aesthetic appeals front. Some people go severe as well as call such sales pages as evil kinds of web marketing. Fact be informed: lengthy sales letter Web Crusher Review web pages are based on knowings from direct advertising and marketing and magazine market, so there is absolutely nothing inherently wicked regarding them. Actually, numerous marketing experts still utilize long form of sales pages due to the fact that they transform site visitors like crazy! This is the 3rd post in the collection of meetings as well as guest articles we are running on this blog pertaining to A/B screening and also conversion price optimization. In First post, we interviewed Oli from Unbounce on Touchdown Pages Ideal Practices. In 2nd write-up, Noah Kagan of Appsumo shared his A/B screening pointers. In this blog post, we interview Self-employed copywriter Jeremy Reeves, that is a straight action copywriter as well as advertising consultant. He focuses on long sales letter copywriting. His special as well as effective marketing strategies, incorporated with results-getting copy have actually made his clients numerous dollars. To read more concerning Jeremy and also see just how he can expand your company, head over to www.JeremyReeves.com/sales-copywriter Complying with is the meeting with him.

How to Style a Sales-Generating Landing Web Page That Attracts Website Traffic.

The adhering to passage is from Robert W. Bly's publication The Digital Marketing Handbook. Get it now from Amazon|Barnes & Noble|iBooks|IndieBound. Sales-generating landing web pages, also called sales pages, on-line sales letters, or microsites, are typically single-page internet sites committed to selling one item-- typically an item that's suited for ecommerce, implying clients could directly order it from the page using their credit card or PayPal. I have a sales page for a $19 digital book I market on how to make money by creating, posting, as well as selling PDF ebooks. This page has been very efficient for me: It gets a 32 percent conversion when I drive web traffic to it from my subscriber checklist. This indicates for every three individuals who click onto the page, one purchases the item.

One of the aspects I consisted of on this web page for my digital book was a framework from a brief illustration video that links bent on the video clip. An illustration video clip, or white board video, is narrative come with by an aesthetic presentation that's a sketch as opposed to videography. Video on website could often enhance engagement as well as sales; when I include these short sketch videos to my item sales web pages, I've found that conversion goes up 10 percent to 15 percent.

Duplicate matters and also is the first point. Lengthy kind sales pages are primarily regarding the material. So in order to close the sale, you require great copy. You do not begin to develop prior to you have the copy in place. Content first. You could only compose outstanding copy if you comprehend your target market-- as well as are the master of "little things" like recognizing your Web Crusher way around with words, understanding persuasion, sales psychology as well as making use of tried and tested structures.

While Jerry was discussing television, this applies equally to sales copy. No person is going to review it if it's uninteresting crap. It should join the conversation in the mind of the customer, target their problems and also preferred results. I've composed a thorough write-up called Quick Training course on Effective Site Copywriting, however keep in mind that this post is more regarding the procedure-- and also less about style and techniques. Be careful regarding selecting a copywriter. I have actually used a lots of copywriters for numerous jobs. My best advice: anybody worth employing beginnings at $1000 (normally much more-- in the $2.5 k to $5k array). You're much better off finding out copywriting and creating your personal duplicate than employing someone cheap. Individuals that economical are cheap for a factor (they generally draw). Obviously, rate alone does not tell you the high quality of the copywriter. There's a myriad of jargon-loving "expert copywriters" available (and I have actually had the misery of utilizing a number of). If they're utilizing things like 'take advantage of' and 'our principals are standing by' in their portfolio duplicate, run! A lot of them are also ego-driven (which is reasonable-- they're human) which makes them inadequate at taking feedback, intense about warranting their options and all of it results in mediocre duplicate at finest. BUT-- wonderful copywriters do exist.

Both my landing web page and the email I utilize to drive web traffic to it utilize among online marketer Mark Ford's copywriting strategies, which he calls "the power of one." In the power of one, your copy concentrates on a single suggestion, clearly shared, with lots of proof. In the case of this promo, the concept is basic: The most convenient product to market online is a digital book, which I've clearly stated in the heading and lead of my landing web page. Here's my heading: The World's Simplest-- and also Most Successful-- Item to Produce and also Offer Online. The headline and also lead are immediately adhered to by a checklist of factors supporting the insurance claim that ebooks are the best as well as most convenient item to market on the web. In touchdown pages, it pays to develop reputation early, right on the initial screen. The factor? Individuals have constantly been cynical of marketing, and with the proliferation of spam and also shady operators, they're much more suspicious of just what they review online. As a result, your landing web page copy must promptly get over that doubt. One method to do that is to make sure one or more reliability builders is clearly shown on the initial screen the site visitor sees. In the banner at the top of the web page, use your logo design and firm name if you're popular. Within or promptly under the banner, put a solid testimony or three above the heading on the first screen. Take into consideration including a reliability pre-head. This is a line of copy that comes before the heading. It sums up in one succinct sentence or expression some crucial trustworthiness of the seller.

Typical aspects of lengthy sales letter. Inquiry: Exactly what are one of the most typical components of a lengthy sales-letter type Web Crusher website? Can you damage them below top-to-bottom? Step 1 is the main headline location. This includes the pre-head, primary heading and subhead. This is the factor where you intend to instantaneously get their attention and basically-- inform them WHY they will check out the page. Tell them what remains in it for them, and also do so in an amazing method.

-- Click the picture over for complete screenshot--. This is also referred to as the "Deck" copy". Next is the opening words, additionally referred to as the "lead" or "introduction". This is where I like to get in touch with them psychologically. Depending on the market, item and also hook I discovered when doing my research, this could be any one of the significant feelings such as temper, shame, fear, satisfaction, and so on. Following comes the body duplicate ... The body copy would certainly include locations such as establishing them for the sale, revealing the option (e.g. why it's unique, just how it functions, exactly how it's far better compared to others, and so on) ... why they need to be hearing you ... the advantages of the product ... social evidence, and so on ( This is the biggest area of the duplicate). Next off, you make your deal. You inform them specifically what they'll be obtaining, just what the rate is, the unique value proposal of whatever it is that you're marketing (e.g. why it deserves greater than exactly what they're investing in it) ... the assurance ... as well as all that good stuff. Basically-- you're giving them "X" in exchange for "X" bucks. At the end of the deal area of the duplicate, I want to place in an order box including a summary of every little thing you just said. By doing this, skimmers could see the "entire bundle" at a glance. You show them every thing they're obtaining, just how much whatever is worth ... and why they're paying X% much less compared to what it's worth. Hereafter, comes the "close" where you can do lots of points including injecting shortage right into the offer (yet PLEASE don't inject incorrect shortage) ... having them consider the repercussions of NOT acting, reminding them of the benefits/value/guarantee/ deficiency, etc . The close would generally be whatever after the order form on the page-- consisting of the P.S. Which's basically it! I could break it down into even more portions, yet it depends upon LOTS OF factors so it would only perplex people who do not currently comprehend it.

Choose what kind of copywriter you need. One more thing to bear in mind is that brand name copywriters and also straight response copywriters are really various. It's an entire different frame of mind. We as soon as employed a brand copywriter that had an outstanding return to, had been dealing with all sorts of big brand names in the past. She totally fell short at writing straight reaction copy. She simply couldn't figure it out.

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In flight chapter 14

What came up was overwhelming, and filled with even more unpleasant surprises than I was prepared for. I had been aware that he was a young but well-known billionaire. I had expected some attention from the media in his direction, just from his looks and money alone. But I couldn’t have anticipated what I found.

I was out of touch with current events, to say the least. I didn’t watch the news, and you couldn’t pay me to watch some of the celebrity entertainment shows that were on television, and I certainly wasn’t interested in print tabloids. I’d never understood the appeal of things like that. I had just never been able to relate to anything about them. They usually centered around spoiled rich people, and I just didn’t get the appeal. That could perhaps excuse the fact that I was utterly clueless about the man I’d had a brief affair with.

I clicked on the images portion first. It was mostly shots on red carpets. He seemed to have endless pictures posing with countless women, though Jules was in a sickening majority of them.

He wore tux after tux, some fashion forward, some classic. She wore gowns in every color, always looking beyond stunning. The two of them together made a dauntingly beautiful pair. He wore suits in other pictures, to what I assumed were less formal red carpet events. I was shocked to see that I even recognized some of the other women he had dated.

I recognized a very famous actress. I hadn’t realized she was so tiny until I saw her standing beside Justin’s tall figure. She barely came to his chest. I had liked a few of her films, but I felt an unreasonable rush of dislike for her when I saw that she had attended at least three events with him.

I recognized yet another woman, a voluptuous, dead behind the eyes reality star. She was dark-haired and dark complexioned. Her curves very nearly ran to fat, I decided cattily. She was so short that they looked ridiculous side by side.

I felt sick when I saw him next to one woman who had the caption ‘fetish p*rn star’ right under the picture.

He always looked spectacularly handsome, regardless of who he had on his arm, but I was getting a bigger and drastically different view of him now. And I didn’t like what I was seeing.

Farther down on the image page I saw a picture of him and Jules dressed down in jeans. It was a rare sight, so I clicked on it. I got a larger view, with a small gossip article. They were holding hands in the picture. The article said that she was rumored to be his longtime on-again off-again girlfriend.

I turned on my phone just long enough to send Justin the image.

Selena: You Liar. I’ll speak to you on Monday because I said I would, but I’ve begun to do my research, and I’m quickly seeing that I don’t know anything about you.

I didn’t bother to read the dozen unread messages above the one I had sent him, but I got a response almost immediately, and I did read that.

Justin: Please don’t believe that tabloid garbage. I’ll admit I never discouraged the rumors about Jules being my girlfriend, but they were only rumors. She has never been my girlfriend. She’s my best buddy’s sister. I promise I will never escort her to another event for the rest of my life, but last night was not a date with her. It was a long standing social obligation. If I had tried to put myself in your shoes, I would have seen how hurtful it could look to you. I apologize for that. I would give anything if I could do it differently. But please, just try to give me the benefit of the doubt, and stop looking at tabloids. I’m still in New York working, since you won’t see me, but it’s killing me that I hurt you and that I can’t make it right. I could be on a flight within the hour. Just say the word, love.

I turned my phone off after that. His one message almost had me softening towards him, and I just wasn’t going to let that happen. Fool me once…

I went back to my own personal torture of sifting through gossip about Justin Archibald Basil Cavendish, The Third. I hadn’t even known his middle names, or that he had two of them. A random gossip site had had to tell me. Of course, he didn’t know mine, either.

I found articles about his parents, and even a few pictures. They were a stunning couple. His mother was a dark-haired, dark-eyed, ravishing beauty with Justin’s golden skin and pretty mouth. His father was devastatingly handsome and blond, with beautiful turquoise eyes that made my gut clench with recognition. I could see how such a combination of people could create a masterpiece like Justin.

An article I found about them wrote about how they had died in a car accident. Their tragedy, and a beautiful young Justin, a billionaire before he was even fourteen, had quickly been propelled into the spotlight and romanticized.

I caught little snippets and even a picture of his infamous deceased guardian, and the full details of that scandal. The man was in his early thirties in the first picture. He was handsome, with light brownish-blond hair, like Justin, but a paler complexion. And he was slender to the point of frail, with creepy, pale green eyes. Spencer Charles Douglas Cavendish had been a predator in the skin of a lamb. I felt a hate for him that made bile rise in my throat.

I read the article about his death. Spencer Cavendish had been killed by an enraged lover. One Lowell Blankenship had been drugged and handcuffed by the frail Spencer. Lowell had commented that he had consented to have sex with Spencer, but that he hadn’t agreed to any of the other ‘sick shit’ the man had forced upon him. Spencer had been strangled to death when he had unlocked the handcuffs of the much larger Lowell. I personally thought he deserved a far more painful death.

There were countless other articles about Justin’s numerous business ventures. I just skimmed over these. I did learn that he was into much more than just the hotel industry, and I wasn’t surprised.

I read through a three page article about his two month affair with a platinum hit singer. She was barely nineteen, and it had been less than six months since their split.

Dammit, I have some of her songs on my mp3 player, I thought in disgust. He had his hand on her nape in one of the pictures. I wanted to throw something.

There were a few articles that hinted briefly about him being a kinky sex partner, but that was all that I found that was even close to touching on his BDSM lifestyle. I wondered how he’d kept it so well under wraps.

I turned off my computer, striding into my bedroom and tearing the painting of him from the wall. I tried to make myself tear it up, but I just couldn’t do it. Instead, I put it into my chest of old watercolors.

I turned my phone on again. I ignored all of the new missed calls and texts from Justin. I texted Stephan, asking if I could come over. He answered instantly with a yes.

I went over, and we watched TV and ate too much ice cream. It helped, but as soon as we stopped watching, I started thinking again. That’s how we ended up catching up on my TV until nearly two a.m on a work night. We had an early morning, but Stephan didn’t complain.

“I spoke at length to Justin today,” Stephan told me after we’d been watching TV for hours.

I just nodded.

“Want me to tell you about it?”

I shook my head.

“Okay. Let me know if you do.”

“I need some time. I read up on him online. I’m feeling less inclined than ever to even speak to him again.”

Stephan took a deep breath. “That’s something I wanted to talk about, actually, if you’re willing to hear what I think about the whole thing right now.”

I just studied him for a minute. He looked nervous, which meant I wouldn’t like what he was going to say. “Not right now,” I said.

“I think I can at least understand now why he wanted to keep his relationship with you private.”

I held a hand up. “No more. It sounds a lot like you’re taking his side right now. I just can’t handle that at the moment.” Unwilling tears welled up as I spoke.

He pulled me against his chest, kissing the top of my head. “Never, Buttercup. I’m always on your side. Always. We’ll talk about it when you’re ready.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Mr. Cavendish

I was grateful for busy flights at work the following day. We had full planes going both ways on our turn. I barely had time to eat, and I was avoiding thinking at all costs. I didn’t even have my phone. It was still at home, by my bed, and turned off.

The Agents were present, and I felt a moment of unreasonable anger at them when I first spotted the one in my cabin. I squelched the emotion, just serving them as they alternated cabins on the return flight. I made myself brush off the implication that Justin still had a reason to keep an eye on me. I would set him straight on Monday, and then this nonsense would be over for good.

I was, thankfully, exhausted by the time I got back home that night. I only performed the minimum bedtime preparations before practically falling into bed.

I slept in late the next morning. Even after I woke up, I moved slowly. It took me nearly an hour to prepare and feed myself breakfast.

I felt like a zombie, too numb to even cry. I thought it was an improvement.

Stephan and I had a monthly lunch date with several of the other members of our flight attendant class at eleven. I was skipping out. It was a boisterous, funny, close-knit group. The lunches were always a great time. There were twelve of us in total that went, and we usually caught up with each other over lunch. We often caught a movie afterward or even headed to Stephan’s house, on occasion. I wasn’t up for any of it. Stephan had promised to make my excuses. He had offered to skip out with me, but I wouldn’t hear of it. I knew he was a social creature, and the lunches were always a highlight for him.

I tried to paint. One look at my canvas of a nude Justin changed my mind . I put the painting in my spare room with trembling hands. I just didn’t have it in me to deal with it at that moment.

Finally, I went the masochistic route, turning on my computer again. I set out to do more painful research on my famous ex-lover.

If I had been shocked by what my search had turned up the first time, I was utterly floored by what I found then. What a difference a few days had made.

Now, typing Justin Cavendish into the search engine brought up an entirely new batch of photos that the first search hadn’t. Pictures of me. I had never thought of myself as a beauty. My features were even and symmetrical and my coloring was a soft natural blond, but I had always just considered myself attractive, if I was in a kind mood. I usually photographed well. I even had a picture-ready smile. If it wasn’t all that sincere, it was at least polished and convincing enough at a distance. These weren’t those kinds of pictures.

They had obviously been snapped as I was stumbling out of Justin’s building. I looked disheveled, and, well, horrible. I was ghostly pale, my eyes red and bloodshot. There was mascara running down my face in dark lines. It made me look at least forty years old, instead of twenty-three.

My uniform was in shambles, the buttons of my blouse misaligned by at least three. I hadn’t even noticed at the time. My shirt was untucked, and the top was hanging low, showing an almost obscene amount of cl**vage. My hair was a tangled mess.

I looked like I was drunk and about to throw up in the street. I was teetering on the edge of the sidewalk. Apparently, I had looked as awful as I had felt that night. And the pictures were everywhere. One gossip site after another had scented the story of trouble in paradise. Though they all seemed to have a slightly different slant on it.

One site named me a ‘Vegas floozy’ who had come between Jules and Justin, though the site claimed that their love would endure the scandal. I saw that they were commonly referred to on the gossip sites as J&J. It made me want to throw up.

One site called me a ‘Low Class Inflight’, who had broken the heart of a distraught Jules. That one hurt, with side by side pictures of the two of us. The picture of Jules showed her in the pale gray gown she’d been wearing that night, giving a stiff smile at the camera. She looked strained, but at least she’d known she was being photographed. I saw farther down on the same article that they had indeed still attended the charity event together, in spite of the obvious strain yet another of Justin’s affairs had caused on the beautiful couple. The article concluded that their love would prevail over Justin’s weakness for cheap women.

I wouldn’t have been surprised if Jules had written the article herself, it was so biased towards her. It made her out to be a long-suffering Saint. I’d met the woman, if only briefly. She was no Saint.

One site called me a ‘Blond Sky Slut,’ and claimed that I was trying to trap Justin with a baby. I couldn’t believe all of the lies that could be concocted from a few short minutes worth of unsolicited photos, and all of a woman no one had ever heard of. It was shocking, and infuriating, and sickening.

One site resorted to drawing giant penises all over my face, saying that I ‘gave the best head’, and that was the only reason Justin would risk his long-time lover’s wrath. Supposedly several of the site’s sources knew it first-hand. The lies made me feel ill.

One site claimed I was part of a high-priced flight attendant prostitution ring, and that Justin obviously needed to ask for his money back.

I was almost flattered for a moment as I read the headline of one article. It claimed I was a ‘Swedish Bikini Model’. That sounded complimentary. Until I scrolled to the bottom of the article, which had a link it claimed went to a porno, starring me. I didn’t bother to click on it. I knew for a fact that it wasn’t me, and I didn’t want to see what it actually was.

Another said I was a cocktail waitress, and yet another said that I was a stripper with the stage name ‘Glory Hole’. The slurs went on and on, and I felt humiliated, angry, and heartsick.

This was the price I had to pay for one week of pleasure? I thought in disgust. I was going celibate for the rest of my life.

And I hated myself, for being just as upset that Justin and Jules had still gone out together that night as I was by all of the horrible lies being spread about me…

I got my phone out of my bedroom, finally turning it on after days in the off position. I went straight to Stephan’s name in my texts, completely ignoring all of the other messages and calls that I had missed. I’d missed one from Stephan as well. It had been sent twenty minutes ago.

Stephan: Buttercup, I’ll be home soon. Finishing up lunch now. We need to talk. Please don’t look at anything online until I get there.

I snorted. He should have known better. If I hadn’t already looked, his odd message would have sent me straight to my computer.

I heard the doorbell ring.

That was quick, I thought, as I strode directly to the door.

I wondered why he didn’t just let himself in. He was rarely so formal. He even had my alarm code.

A cold shiver ran through me. I couldn’t place why. Cautiously, I checked the peephole. It was covered.

By a hand, I thought. It made me angry.

I swung the door open, ready to chew Stephan a new one. “You know better than to mess with me like that, Stephan. It’s a mean prank-”

I couldn’t finish as a huge hand seized my throat, shoving me back into the house. I couldn’t even scream as the hand tightened. I blinked, trying to focus on the coldly furious face in front of me. The familiar pale-blue, bloodshot eyes. I could do nothing as the huge blond man picked me up by the throat, and shoved me across the room, my back hitting the wall with a jarring thud.

I clawed at the giant hand that held me suspended like a rag doll. It had no effect. My throat burned, and the impact with the wall had knocked the wind out of me, but the pain was secondary to the terror that gripped me.

A question consumed my thoughts. It was an old familiar pattern for me, when this madman, who exercised so little control over his rage, held me in his grasp. The question circled my brain like a persistent cancer. Would he kill me this time? He always threatened to. Ever since I had stood, not more than four feet away, and watched in horror as he pushed the gun my mother held into her mouth, and pulled the trigger. I had watched in helpless horror as his finger covered hers on that trigger, and pulled so slowly.

Blood had splattered all three of us, but he hadn’t seemed to notice.

At the moment, his words were a confusing tangle of Swedish and English, and I couldn’t for the life of me understand it. I had never been fluent in Swedish, but I’d had to understand it as a child, since my father stubbornly insisted on using it at home. But, either from terror or disuse, any ability to understand it was failing me. I tried to speak, to tell him that, but his hand was still at my throat, cutting off my ability to speak.

His hand relaxed on my throat just enough for me to take a breath. I gasped, then grunted and whimpered as his fist made hard contact with my ribs. I sobbed in another breath, still desperate for air.

He spoke again. This time it was a heavily accented but understandable string of English. “Don’t get the idea that a rich boyfriend will keep you safe from me. If you even think about speaking to the police, I will still kill you. Do you understand?”

I couldn’t speak, but I tried. God, did I try. Finally, I just nodded, but it wasn’t enough. One of those massive fists made contact with my stomach once, and then again. I started to crumble, but he pushed my shoulder into the wall hard enough to keep me upright.

“Look at me,” my father’s cold voice ordered.

I did, getting a good look at him for the first time since he’d charged, like a madman, through my door. It had been six years since I’d seen him, but he’d aged twenty. He was even heavier now, his face dissipated with the signs of a life lived in excess. He was a drunk, a smoker, a chronic gambler, a murderer, and God only knew what else. It had all taken it’s toll on his once handsome face.

I called myself a thousand kinds of fool. I’d known he would never leave Vegas. He had gambled to stay afloat since his parents had disowned him at least twenty-four years before. I had prayed that his destructive lifestyle would take care of him on it’s own, but it had been too much to hope for.

Thinking it was Stephan at my door was no excuse. I was an idiot for letting my guard down for even a second. But he had somehow known when to strike. I was so depressed and despondent that my brain wasn’t working properly. The thought of a real threat had been so far from my mind…

“People have been asking about me, people I don’t know. What did you tell your rich boyfriend about me? Did you tell him about your mother’s death?”

“No,” I sobbed. “I don’t know what people you’re talking about. I didn’t tell him anything. I swear it.”

My words were useless. They always were. My father was a man of action. He grabbed my arm with one hand, punching me in the side with the other. He always spread his punches out. He caught a spot at my back and my spine bowed in pain.

He swept my legs out from under me. I went down easily. He kicked me once, hard, in the back. He walked around me, bringing a booted heel to my neck. “It would be easier than taking a simple step for me to kill you. You understand this? My weight alone will crush your windpipe. Is this how you want to die? Because if you tell anyone what I did to your mother, there is no reason why I shouldn’t kill you. I would not hesitate. Do you understand, sotnos?”

“Yes,” I croaked out. It was a struggle to get that one word out with that huge boot on my neck.

He picked me up, effortlessly propping me back on my feet. “And your man needs to quit poking around in my business.” He raised an enormous fist above me, bringing it down on the back of my head. My world went black.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Epilogue

I awoke to the biggest, baddest headache of my life. It was a doozy. I wanted to sink back into unconsciousness immediately. It was my first conscious thought.

I opened my eyes the tiniest crack. It made the pain even worse, so I shut them again.

I’m in a hospital, was my second conscious thought. Everything, from the way I was propped up, to the smell, to all of the little beeps, clued me in. My third thought was that my head wasn’t the only thing wrong with me. Almost every part of my body throbbed, head to toe.

My hands seemed to be unharmed. My right hand was clutched in a warm, hard hand. I knew that it must be Stephan at my side, and I felt better just from the knowledge of his steady presence. I was in bad shape, but I was alive. And I had Stephan.

I made a second attempt to open my eyes. It was marginally more successful than the first try, but agonizing pain still shot through my temples. I glanced toward the man sitting at my right. I was more than a little unsettled to see that it wasn’t Stephan.

Golden-brown hair trailed into an achingly beautiful face as Justin leaned over my hand, his face stark and desolate, his eyes red, his pretty mouth pursed as though he were in pain. He had the posture of someone who had been sitting slumped over that way for hours, if not days. He looked so tragic that way, and so heart-achingly handsome, that I felt an instant softening towards him. I wasn’t thinking very clearly, but I tried to reach out briefly to comfort him.

My arm didn’t move much, but I was able to grip his hand with a tiny, reassuring squeeze.

His head shot up, his eyes searching. Those vibrant blue eyes looked on the verge of tears. It was surreal to see him like that. He swallowed hard.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. He reached over and pushed a button just to my right, but behind me. And then both of his hands gripped mine, stroking it softly.

My voice was raspy and weak, but I answered him. “Alive.”

He blinked, and a tear slipped down the planes of that perfect golden cheek.

I blinked at him, wondering if I was dreaming. This was such a strange Justin that sat in front of me, nearly a stranger. But then again, he had always been a stranger. Hadn’t he?

“Where’s Stephan?” I asked him. It hurt to talk, so I vowed to keep my talking to a minimum.

“He went to get coffee. He’s been glued to your side.” He nodded at a spot on the other side of me. There was another chair placed right at my side. “He’s even been sleeping there.”

I processed his words, then almost immediately broke my vow of silence. “How long have I been out?”

He lowered his head, touching his forehead to my hand. “Three days. Forever.”

I sighed, feeling a little relieved. It could have been worse. “How long have you been here?” I asked him.

His face looked impossibly tired as he gazed down at our joined hands. “I showed up at your house as the ambulance was taking you away. We followed it to the hospital. Stephan and I were both just minutes too late…”

“You came to my house early,” I said, a small thread of accusation in my voice.

He just nodded. “Yes. But not early enough,” he said, and I could tell that he was blaming himself for what had happened, for showing up too late to stop it, which was crazy, of course.

I supposed, in a disconnected kind of way, that someone who needed so badly to be in control, must also feel the need to take a disproportionate amount of responsibility for things, even things that were completely out of his control. I squeezed his hand.

“How long have you been at the hospital?” I asked again.

He just blinked at me. “Since then, Love. Do you think I could leave you like this?”

My brow furrowed. “Don’t you have work to do?”

He laughed, and it was a rusty sound. “I’m taking some time off.”

I noticed for the first time that the private room we were in was filled to bursting with flowers. They ranged from exotic bouquets, to decadent roses, to simple carnations. It seemed that every flower was represented in the many vases around the room.

“You did this,” I said, as I took it all in.

He kissed my hand. “Not just me,” he said. “The white lilies are from Stephan. And those sunflowers are from Damien and Murphy. The mixed wildflowers are from your airline. And that mixed bouquet is from a group of flight attendants from your class. I got the rest.”

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he murmured, watching me like a hawk.

Stephan came in then, and rushed to my other side. Tears ran down his face as he grabbed my other hand.

“How do you feel?” he asked, sitting in what was obviously his chair at my other side..

I grimaced. “Alive.”

“I should go get the nurse,” Stephan said, starting to stand.

“I buzzed her. She’s usually prompt, so she’ll be here any time now,” Justin told him.

Stephan sat again. He stroked my hand comfortingly. “I was just speaking to the police. They want to talk to you when you feel up to it. I told them that I thought it was your father, but I didn’t see him, so they won’t take my word for it. It was your father, right?”

I just nodded, wincing. “Later. I’m definitely not feeling up to it right now. What day is it?”

“Thursday,” Stephan told me.

My eyes widened, my mind automatically going to work. “We fly out tonight?” I asked him.

He patted my hand. “I talked to the director of inflight. He had no problem letting us switch our vacation time, with you being hospitalized. He was actually really great about it, knowing we couldn’t take that much time off unpaid, and that I couldn’t work with you hurt like this. We’ve got two weeks off, so don’t worry about work.”

I shut my eyes in relief. “Thanks, Stephan. You’re the best.”

Justin’s hand tightened on mine. “That’s not enough time. And if you’re that worried about money-”

“Don’t,” I told him, my eyes still closed.

His mention of money opened the floodgate, and I suddenly remembered, quite vividly, why he had no reason to be by my side. I started to withdraw my hand.

He clutched it, and my eyes snapped open, glaring at him. The look in his eyes stopped my hand, and I just didn’t have the heart to glare at someone who looked so…desperate.

“Okay, I won’t. I’m sorry. I just wanted to help,” he reassured me in a way that seemed foreign to him. No one could say he wasn’t trying…

The nurse arrived, checking on me. She asked me about the pain, and I saw her pushing the painkiller button several times. I drifted off.

Both men were seemingly unmoved when I roused again. I could see from the slightly opened shades that it was dark outside. Both of my hands were still warmly enveloped.

“How long was I out that time?” I asked.

Stephan seemed to be dozing, but Justin had his eyes open. He looked like he was praying over my hand.

“Fourteen hours,” Justin said, and kissed my hand. “I think you’ve taken ten years off my life this week.” He reached to punch a button, and I knew he was calling for the nurse again.

It was a different nurse this time, I absently noted, as she left after checking and medding me. They had both been pleasant and quick. I wondered if the hospital always had such good service, or if this was the Justin Cavendish effect.

“You don’t have to stay here,” I told him, as I began to drift off again. He sent me such a hurt look that I tried to take it back even as I sank into a drugged sleep.

Days went by like that, floating in and out of consciousness while my body healed. It was five days before I was up and about. And even then it was a limited amount of activity.

I had a severe concussion, some internal bleeding, and some badly bruised ribs. From the way they felt, I found it hard to believe they weren’t broken. I hated to imagine what they would feel like if they were actually broken, if this was what bruised felt like.

I found out from the doctor that I would be in the hospital for several more days, under observation. All of my injuries were painful, but survivable. I was lucky, I knew. It could have been so much worse.

I had several visitors. The rest of our crew even visited once, pilots included. They wished me well, and chatted pleasantly about nothing important. Neither of the men at my side even offered their spots to the other visitors. I wasn’t surprised.

Justin’s hand tightened on mine once, when Damien reached down to pat my leg. I knew Damien was just being friendly. He would have patted my hand, probably, if they weren’t both already taken.

Justin and Stephan never wandered far from their seats at my side, day or night. Occasionally, they took turns sleeping on a tiny bed that folded out from the wall in the far corner of the room. I couldn’t imagine either man was getting much sleep on the uncomfortably hard looking bed. It was both heartwarming and baffling to me, these two amazing men that insisted on watching over me, completely unconcerned for their own comforts.

A neat, business-like blond woman kept coming in and out of the room, silently handing Justin his phone, or his laptop, or even the occasional stack of papers. I supposed that was how he was able to spend so much time at my side.

“You don’t have to stay here,” I told him. “I understand that you have work to do.”

He just gave me a dismissive glance, working on his laptop.

I was nearly recovered enough to be discharged before Stephan brought up the attack again. “Why did he come after you again, after all these years?” he asked in a hushed voice. Justin was dozing in his bedside chair.

“He mentioned something about people asking questions about him, people that he didn’t know. He saw me in the tabloids, I suppose, and blamed me. He also seemed to think that dating a rich man would make me more likely to get brave and go to the police about him.”

“This was my fault,” Justin spoke, making me start in surprise. His face was ashen. “I’m so sorry.”

I arched a brow at him. “That’s a bit of a stretch. And, anyways, my father wasn’t wrong. I am feeling brave now.”

Justin tried to get me to explain what I meant, but I wasn’t sharing anymore. And there was nothing to share with Stephan. He already knew everything.

I caught the tail end of a hushed conversation as I woke up one morning, days later.

“I think that will do more harm than good,” Stephan was saying to Justin. “She won’t like it. Just give her time, Justin. I know it’s hard, but you’ll have to be patient.”

“What’re ya talkin’ bout?” I mumbled, as my brain crawled out of sleep.

Both men looked a little guilty at being caught discussing me, but neither answered.

“Spill it, Stephan.”

He sighed. “Justin would like to take you to a quiet place to heal. He was suggesting a place on the beach, maybe. And we were trying to figure out how to handle the media circus that seems to follow Justin around.”

I went from groggy to alert as he spoke.

Justin gave me a very solemn look. “I can’t tell you how much I didn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire of my media circus of a life. That is the entire reason that I wanted to keep our relationship quiet, at first. I was suggesting that I release a statement about our relationship so it’s clear that you and I are together and exclusive. And that Jules is and only ever has been a friend of mine. I hate the implication that you are usurping on her territory. Nothing could be further from the truth.”

I pulled my hand away from Justin, then raised it when he tried to protest.

“Stephan, give us a moment, please,” I said solemnly.

He left without a word, beating a rather hasty retreat.

Justin’s jaw had clenched, and he looked angry and pleading all at once. “Please don’t shut me out, Selena,” he said quietly.

I took a deep breath. My chest hurt. It wasn’t just from the fists that had marked it. It was a deeper pain. “Justin, this has all happened too quickly. I need to take a step back.”

He looked down, hiding his pain-filled eyes, that lovely mouth twisting in a heart-wrenching way. “Please.” His voice was quiet. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you. What can I do?”

I swallowed past a very thick lump in my throat. “Just give me time, please. Things between us happened too fast, and everything that’s happened since has just made me realize that. I can’t think when we’re together. You just sweep me up and I seem to lose all semblance of sane thought. I don’t know that I can be a part of your life, or that I can even accept whatever little piece of it you would carve out for me.” I could tell he wanted to argue, but I quieted him with a look.

“Just give me some time,” I finally repeated. “That’s all I ask. We can discuss this thing we have in a few weeks, maybe a month, if you still want to. Frankly, I half-expect you to just move on in that time.”

He looked very angry now, but he studied me, and I could see that he tried to tamp it down.

“Please have more faith in me than that,” he said quietly. “Will you at least allow me to call you? Or even text you?”

I closed my eyes, wanting to go back to sleep, wanting to cry like a baby. “I’ll contact you,” was all I said.

He clutched my hand. “It feels like you’ve already written me off. I wish I knew the words to say to help you understand how serious I am about you.”

There were tears in his voice, and it broke my heart. But he didn’t really try to find any of the words. He never spoke of love, or even how much he cared. It made it easier for me to do what needed to be done. It helped me to tell myself, We barely know each other. This could all mean nothing to him in a month. If he had said he loved me, I might not have been able to manage it.

“I haven’t written you off. I just need time, and space. As you’ve seen and heard, I’m going to be fine. I’ll be released from the hospital anytime now. Today, probably. Stephan will take care of me after that.”

I kept my eyes closed. It was so much easier to say the words when I wasn’t looking at him.

“Goodbye, Justin,” I told him, my voice oddly thick. It was a dismissal.

He kissed my forehead. I felt him watching me for long minutes. Finally, after a suspenseful wait, he departed.

I felt tears slip down my cheeks, but only after he’d gone.

Stephan re-entered some time later. I suspected he had walked Justin out. He came right to my side, seeming to know, without a word from me, what had transpired. “Are you okay, Selena?”

I nodded. “I want to get out of here. And I’m ready to talk to the police, Stephan. I’m going to tell them everything.”

�P鄟

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perfect movies for what they are but I think it too often rebel Wilson has been put into one box I think that this could be the kind of vehicle that would get her out ofand B herself a little bit more but I would also pare her with Tiffany had a fun activity has is such a a comedic force to be reckoned with right now I would love to see them to keep away from thisand it may not be a popular opinion take the tenantand I say that the table is being shoehorned into things of a rough night everybody was always to be amazing with her I thought you the best part of a rough night the same as what is the major problem what are my little gnome is likely the best like you can with the best part of the Ghostbusters remake Tuesday was between herand Leslie Jones is either one of them in this movie but is one of those that you know you orderand if she’s but if you’re mechanicaland I’m gonna be happy with it but she does cause a divide among standard it’s a weird thing yeah this see that is likely there’s their secret is enjoyed everybody enjoyed girl strip right we dislike they were laughing a lot he has is still a lot of the same but everybody’s great you have actors like Amy can you comes on screenand it’s like some people overand some people hereand I simply don’t get angry you are talkingand went over talking on the were talking about it it’s really up to you guys were 11 chat room cast the new 9 to 5 treatmentand will book all Rashidaand Pat Resnickand let him know who you guys is a common right now or on YouTube after the fact you will hear from you guys are next story is Chris Hemsworth is known as Thor we decided to write Rockwell does appear he is going to be the lead in the new man in black spinoff as recommended by spinoff has been through many iterations of been a lot of rumors about what this will or will not include load could be a team up with 21 just happening just yet but Chris Hemsworth is being I to play the lead in it now family what they would like to have is Chris Hemsworth a black femaleand then an older person whose kind mentoring these two young ones apparently is to take place in the same men in Black universe as the original movie so are not totally rebooting it were just ushering in a new generation of people in black J Washington is that the right way to read this for youand don’t because everybody was concerned they were to skip over doing thisand go straight to the cross of which one to gentry so I’m fine with this I’m perfect because I gave you ushering this new generation especially after many blackberry a lot of people it was devised that was a very slim movie like I like Josh Brolin but then again it didn’t was negativeand better beginnings acolyte Wilson could not stand that movie I say I cannot say there was some gorgeous diehard in my defense will with it Chris Hemsworth has proven he is a comedic force when he is allowed to do what he wants to doand you can do it welland if you going to do thi I can’t similar with aliens we’ve already seen what he does not go back to writing is interacts with Cerner in the very beginning at the red rock is hysterical so expand that in taking the you know is we don’t know if he’s an established member MIB if he becomes like the Will Smith as character where he’s draftedand he has to find us out to be problem with this for here for this one Chris hazards with The play Thor it made sense on its ear because of how well he’s he’s blotted Jack okay calland then we seen in Thor it’s like he’s putting his batteries as Guardian he doesn’t know really how our language or colloquialisms work but he still funny he is still able to be funnyand then you put it in a movie any that as part of our with vacation or you get this even Ghostbustersand got some good lines in SOI like Chris Hemsworth deleting that also being comedic however he does has not hit at the box office away from the Marvel movies like I think he should. Without any clothes onand like the guy that youand Yoko had everybody or invited people to come into the bedroom while you were there we held a bed in fatigue a bed in for peace exactly what you do those things what what Iand and I don’t ask you that because I want to engender some flip response from you but what is that game for you as John Lennon or what is a gain for the cause of peace in the case of the bedand for you to do some like that Yokoand I when we got togetherand decided whatever we knew whatever we did was gonna be in the papersand up when it’s original is all so and so gets mad whenever people like us do is gonna be in the papers so we decided to utilize the space we would occupy anyway by getting married with a commercial for peaceand also a theatrical eventand a theatrical event we came up with in which utilize the least energy with a maximum effect was to work from badand wobbly that they had was a seven day press conference in bed by the past for the first day they fall to the door to get. The cuts in that city 1 billion kind New York and it’s become a disaster your reaction to this whole deep on the police after madness is going on the country well it’s ridiculous and we should do the opposite of the funding we should help the police more they have been taken gets up and take it out and it’s it’s very sad that we talked to the governor if you look at Oregon and and you look at what’s going on out there were willing to Alpena we need is supposed to call and say please send out but you know honestly that 10 000 great law enforcement people there really they can take care of it themselves but we be glad to send in the National Guard and solve the problem like we did in Minneapolis we solved that problem in one hour after they arrived we can do it in Portland so easy we can do it in Chicago a little more difficult it’s a different kind of a problem one is anarchist and the other people to go around indiscriminately shooting everyone and themselves

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