#i like to think matt chose this pose and face

[socgf]

[hxschi]

Just A Prank (wc; 2,371)

It’s the morning after the prank and Sam realises the twins never came back.

...

The space beside Sam is empty when she wakes; the pillows in the same position they were last night, the cover undisturbed. Nobody slept beside her in the bed last night.

There’s a sickening, unwelcome feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Where was Hannah?

Sam pushes back the covers, the cold already seeping into her bones but she pushes forward, creeping out into the hallway. The lodge was dead silent, everybody still asleep, the hallway still cast in shadows but Sam knows this lodge like her own house and in the maze of rooms the lodge holds she knows whose room is whose.

She opens Beth’s door hoping that maybe the twins chose to sleep together last night but the room is empty, the bed hasn’t been touched and Sam knows, as desperately as she wants to ignore it, she knows neither twin came home last night.

.:..:.:.:.:.:.:.

“Maybe they went to the guest cabin?” suggests Ashley.

“With Mike and Em? Yeah, I don’t think so, Ash,” says Jess.

“Maybe they found somewhere else,” poses Matt. “They know this mountain better than the rest of us, there’s probably loads of cabins on here.”

“Or they came back and are just sleeping somewhere else,” says Jess, her hangover causing frustration to tone her words. “This lodge has too many rooms anyway.”

Sam stays quiet. She knows the twins aren’t here, that they never came back last night. Something happened to them and they were wasting time discussing it.

Her eyes drift over to Josh, still asleep on the couch where his sisters left him. God, somebody is going to have to tell him.

She will have to tell him.

Sam brings her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. The others are still throwing out suggestions as to where the twins could be but Sam has stopped listening.

“Guys,” she softly calls to them and all three stop talking and look at her. “We need to wake up Josh.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

He hates them all.

It is 9:30 in the morning, his head is pounding like there’s no tomorrow, and his sisters’ friends are telling him that those same sisters never came home last night.

And he is just learning about this now.

He hates them all.

“So you’re telling me,” Josh says, his face in his hands as his severely hungover brain tries to process it all. “That you pulled a prank on one of my sisters that caused her to run out of the lodge in the middle of the night, in the middle of winter, that caused my other sister to follow her and none of you thought it was a little odd that they never came back?” His eyes fall to Jess standing in front of him. “What the fuck, Jessica?”

“We- I…We didn’t think she would run out of the lodge, Josh.” She at least has the decency to look guilty. “It was just a joke.”

“You know Hannah isn’t like the rest of us. The pranks we pull on each other, we can’t do that with her.” Josh sighs, standing up. There was just one more thing he couldn’t wrap his head around. “Why didn’t you go after them?”

“That was my fault.” It’s Sam who speaks up and Josh turns to her, shocked for a moment that she even had a part in this.

“Mike wanted to go after her before Beth came out. I told him no.” She sighs, shaking her head. “I thought she wouldn’t want to see him but I think that’s why she ran out anyway.” She gives Josh a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.”

He finds his anger melting ever so slightly. He knows if Sam could change this, she would. He squeezes her shoulder gently. “It’s okay, Sam.” Then he sighs again. “I’ll take some Advil then we can get going.” He looks at Jess. “Go to the guest cabin and wake up Mike and Emily, they can help. Matt, go with her.” He looks to Ashley. “Ashley, wake up Chris, he needs to know what’s happened.” Ashley nods.

“What do you want me to do?” asks Sam, standing up.

“You can come with me while I call my parents.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The police want to take statements but Josh tells them it can wait until after the search and for that Jessica is grateful. They’re split up into five groups but even that isn’t enough to cover the expanse of the mountain. The group Jess is part of were tasked with looking around the fire tower area and so far they had found nothing but some broken signs near a cliff edge that their search party leaders told them to stay away from.

“This is all our fault,” she hears Emily say for the tenth time this morning. Jess huffs, rolling her eyes.

“We didn’t know she’d run out, Em!” Jessica shines her flashlight around. There was nothing here. Can she go inside now, she’s freezing.

“I did say we should go after her,” says Mike and Jess glares at him.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because Sam said—”

“Since when do you listen to what Sam says?” asks Jess. She stops in her tracks, turning to the other two. “There’s nothing here, let’s go,” and starts trudging her way back.

“What do we tell the police?” asks Emily. “I don’t remember anything. What if they try to blame us?”

“They won’t,” says Jess, convincing herself as much as she was trying to convince Emily. “We didn’t do anything. All we tell them is we play pranks on each other all the time and usually it ends with the other person laughing. No one has ever ran away before and we didn’t think it would happen now. Nobody is here and it is freezing, can we go please?” Jessica walks off without another look towards Mike or Emily. They can stand out here worrying about what they’ll say to the police but Jessica would every much like to be indoors now.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The police station was tiny. Dank and dingy, the walls had weird stains on them and the whole place smelt of piss. All eight of them had been ushered into a small room. They weren’t allowed to talk and a bored looking cop had been sent to babysit and make sure they followed the no talking rule. They would have been put into eight separate rooms if the station had eight difference rooms.

One by one they are called in no particular order. The times they were in there differed two; Chris and Josh knew nothing so they were in and out. Matt and Ashley were in much longer than the other two but not as long as Sam had been. Jess was currently breaking the record, half an hour they had been speaking to her with Mike just behind her clocking 27 minutes. Emily only knew this because there was nothing else to do other than watch the clock. They couldn’t talk and their phones had been confiscated. Emily was the last to be called into the interrogation room so for almost 2 hours she had sat there clock watching.

The interrogation room was as dank and dark as the rest of the station. The cop who had taken the lead on the twins disappearance- as Emily had heard them referring to it as now- is sat on the other side of the table. She smiles as Emily enters.

“Hi,” she says still smiling. “You must be Emily. I’m Annie.” She gestures for Emily to enter the room and when Emily does another cop shuts the door behind her. She hears the snick of a lock locking into place and stares at it.

“It’s okay,” says Annie coaxing Emily towards the table and chair. “It’s just so people outside know this room is in use.” With a gentle force on her shoulders she coaxes Emily to sit down and then moves back to her own seat. “I hear your friends call you Em. Can I call you Em?”

Emily shrugs. “I guess so.”

Annie smiles again. “Good. Now Em, you’re not in any trouble. We just need to get a picture about what happened last night, okay?”

“What if I don’t remember stuff?”

“That’s fine. I just need you to write down what you can remember.” Annie hands a clipboard and pen towards Emily. “Once you���re done, I have some questions I need to ask.”

Emily nods and picks up the pen, she hovers over the page, wondering how to start, trying to recall as much of last night as she can.

She had dealt with cops once, last year, when Jacob Webb got pulled over for speeding and Emily was trying not to get busted for being high in the back of his car. She doesn’t remember much of that either.

She writes down whatever she can remember, fumbles a bit on who’s idea the prank was- was it hers or Jess’s?- She can’t remember who said what so she leaves that out, she remembers hiding under the bed with Jess and someone bursting in and then Hannah running away.

Her statement is a paragraph at best and she sheepishly hands it to Annie.

If Annie has any complaints about how short Emily’s statement is she doesn’t voice them. Instead, she files it away and turns back to Emily.

“So pranking each other seems to be a regular thing in this friendship group?”

Emily nods. “We do it all the time, it’s sorta our dynamic, I guess.”

“And is Hannah often on the receiving end?”

Emily shakes her head. “The rest of us just laugh it off. We’re mad at first but then we see the funny side. Hannah…” She sighs. “Hannah doesn’t do that, she takes it personally and it’s not fun when someone takes it personally.”

“And knowing this you went ahead and pranked her anyway.”

Emily shrugs. “I guess. I just wanted her to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Trying to get Mike’s attention.” She leans back in the chair and crosses her arms. “You know how annoying it is when somebody’s after your boyfriend?”

“I see…”

“But I didn’t think she would run away. It was just a prank.”

A silence settles between them before Annie speaks again.

“Thank you Em, you’ve been very helpful. You can go rejoin your friends now, I’ll get somebody to drive you back to the lodge. You can get your things and someone will drive you to the airport.”

Jessica is waiting for her when she leaves the interrogation room.

“You were in there a while,” she says upon seeing Emily.

Emily glances up at the clock and sees she’s high scored at 32 minutes. Emily always comes out on top.

“Guess I remembered more than I thought.”

“They’ll find them, Em. They have to.”

Because if they don’t we’ll always be remembered as the ones who killed Hannah and Beth.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Annie spends the night sifting through all eight statements. Christopher and Joshua’s don’t yield much information- they were asleep through the entire thing. The other six statements are virtually identical: Jessica and Emily were the masterminds, Michael was the bate, Ashley and Matthew were complicit (Matthew even mentions recording it on a camera) Samantha tried to stop it but failed and Bethany Washington had no idea any of it was happening. By all accounts it was a prank gone wrong, no one could explain where the girls had gone so why did Annie still have two missing teenagers and what happened between 2 and 9:30am?

A knock on the door startles her but it’s only her partner, Finn.

“Any suspects yet?” he asks.

Annie places the folder with the statements inside down on the desk and shakes her head. “They didn’t do it. Well, outside of causing the girls to run out but other than that, they know nothing.”

“You’ll find them, Annie.”

“Will I?” Annie asks because she was having some serious doubts. “The most I’ve ever dealt with is some off-season hunting, never…this.”

Finn leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms and looking deep in thought.

“There was that guy, wasn’t there? The one Melinda Washington complained about- the one who said not to build on the mountain- could he have something to do with this?”

It was something but Annie wasn’t convinced.

“As far as I’m aware that was all settled but maybe…We need to keep looking, they’re somewhere on this mountain.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” And with that Finn leaves.

Annie sits, contemplating Finn’s words for a moment. She eyes the filing cabinet and just as she is about to wheel herself over to it does the phone ring.

“Sheriff’s office, Deputy Sheriff Cline speaking.”

“Drop the case, Annie.”

“What?”

“Drop it.” It’s Sheriff Hughes who speaks to her and he sounds serious.

“Why? What’s happened?” Annie asks.

“I just need you to let it go.”

“Two teenage girls are missing Don, I can’t just forget about it, the Washingtons are wanting—”

“I’ll pay the Washingtons off,” Hughes interrupts her. “I just need you to call off the search parties, burn the kid’s statements, forget this whole thing ever happened. That’s an order, Deputy Sheriff Cline.” The call ends before Annie can say another word.

“What was that about?” asks Finn now back at the door again.

Annie gingerly sets the phone back on it’s hook. She looks at the folder of statements before looking up at Finn.

“I’ve been told to drop the case.”

She picks up the folder and opens the drawer beside her, taking out a box of matches. Without another word to Finn she makes her way out of her office and towards the front door where a trash can sits not too far away. She drops the kids’ statements into the can then lights the match, dropping it on top of the papers. The statements catch fire, the ends curling as the flames engulf them. Annie watches, caught in a strange trance as the statements burn to ash. Why has she been told to drop the case?

[renee-writer]

Divine Gifts

Oh, the things we give to those we love.

But we don’t mind, do we? We would do it all again. Fact is, we do it all again. Every Christmas, every birthday, every so often we find ourselves in foreign territory. Grownups are in toy stores, dads are in teen stores, wives are in the hunting department, and husbands are in the purse department.

Not only do we enter unusual places, we do unusual things. We assemble bicycles at midnight. We hide new tires with mag wheels under the stairs. One fellow I heard about rented a movie theater so he and his wife could see their wedding pictures on their anniversary.

And we’d do it again. Having pressed the grapes of service, we drink life’s sweetest wine – the wine of giving. We are at our best when we are giving. In fact, we are most like God when we are giving.

Have you ever wondered why God gives so much? We could exist on far less. He could have left the world flat and gray; we wouldn't have known the difference. But He didn't.

 

He splashed orange on the sunrise and cast sky blue. And if you love to see geese as they  gather, chances are you’ll see that too.

 Did He have to make the squirrel’s tail furry?

Was He obliged to make the birds sing?

 And the funny way that chickens scurry or the majesty of thunder when it rings?

Why give a flower fragrance? Why give food it’s taste?

Could it be He loves to see the look upon your face?

 

If we give gifts to show our love, how much more would He? If we- speckled with foibles and greed-  love to give gifts, how much more does God, pure and perfect God, enjoy giving gifts to us? Jesus asked, “ if you heart-hearted, sinful man know how to give good gifts to your children, won’t your father in Heaven even more certainly give good gifts to those who asked Him for them?” ( Matt. 7: 11 TLB)

God’s gifts shed light on God’s heart, that good and generous  heart. Jesus ‘ brother James tells us; “ every desirable and beneficial gift comes out of heaven. The gifts are rivers of light cascading down from the Father of Light.” ( James 1:17 MSG). Every gift reveals God’s love…but no gift reveals His love more than the gift of the cross.

They came, not wrapped in paper, but in passion. Not placed around a tree, but on a cross. And not covered with ribbon, but sprinkled in blood.

The gifts of the cross.

Lots have been said about the gift of the Cross itself, but what of the other gifts?  What of the nails, the crown of thorns? The garments taken by the soldiers, the garments given for the burial. Have you taken time to open these gifts?

He didn't have to give them, you know. The only act, the only required act for our salvation was the shedding of blood, yet He did so much more. So much more. Search the scene of the cross, and what do you find?

 A wine soaked sponge.

A sign.

Two crosses beside Christ.

Divine gifts intended to stir the moment, that split second when your face will brighten, your eyes were widen, and God will hear you whisper, “ You did this for me?”

 

The diadem of pain

Which sliced Your gentle face,

 Three spikes piercing flesh and wood

To hold You in Your place.

 The need for blood I understand.

Your sacrifice I embrace.

But the bitter sponge,  the cutting spear,

 The spit upon Your face?

 Did it have to be a cross?

Did not a kinder death exist than 6 hours hanging between life and death all spurned by a betrayer’s kiss?

“Oh, Father,” you pose, heart-stilled at what could be,

“I’m sorry to ask, but I long to know, did You do this for me?”

 

Dare pray such a prayer?  Dare we think such thoughts? Could it be that the hill of the cross is rich with God’s gifts?

 Has your ponder what the manger means to you, unwrap God’s gift of Grace, the cross.

As you feel the timber of the cross and trace the braid of the crown and finger the point of the spike- pause and listen. Perchance you will hear Him whisper;

“I did it just for you.”

He Chose the Nails

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things : chapter eleven

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. CONSULT AO3 FOR FULL TAGGED CONTENT WARNINGS

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Your mom used to tell you that love was a choice that she made every day. She woke up and chose to love your father, chose to put in the effort that a relationship needed, chose to stay by his side through the good and the bad. It was a point of pride to endure at all, a smile slapped on her face. She told you that until he left one night, bags in hand and another woman’s name on his lips. 

After that, love was no longer a choice. It was nights of tears and screaming matches, begging and pleading, obligatory phone calls and visitations out of state. Love was no longer a choice, but a shackle, something that you say at the end of a conversation because you must. Love is a pain you bear because you are human, and someone must hold these feelings you have.

Your mother still wants your father to call her. 

You wait for Touya to come home.

It haunts you all morning, as you twiddle away time before the convention floor opens again. You end up calling your boss with an update, only to chat with him over coffee. His niece is over again - she screams hi into the receiver- and his sister says hello as well. You try to end the call there, but he stays on, asking questions about who you’ve seen and how they've been. The conversation drags, but neither of you seem to mind.

“You aren’t watching Shouta.” It’s an observation, posed as a question. He’s speaking better today- you aren’t sure why. Death ebbs and flows.

“He asked me not to.�� The truth feels right at this moment. It doesn’t betray anything changing between you two; Toshinori is probably aware of the tense air between you too. Now, it’s just tense in a different way, a way that makes your toes curl to think about.

“Don’t take it personally,” he says, “Shouta is a very private man.”

More so than you know, Yagi, you think. Aizawa is very different behind closed doors, behind that wall he’s so carefully crafted. You fear you’ve only cracked one layer of him only to uncover a different veneer.

At the end of the call with Toshinori, you let slip a little “Love you.” and he laughs, surprisingly boisterous for his frail lungs. 

“I didn’t mean it,” you try to say.

“It’s okay,” he says once he catches his breath. “I understand.”

 You don’t.

The rest of the morning is spent in your room, pouring over your emails. Technically, the company is on crunch time; your newer model hits the market within two months and panic has set across the office. Everything is ready, technically, but also nothing is; every day is a new little fire, begging to be put out. Being away on a friday was actually a gift, you realize now that you’re scrolling through what you’ve missed. Your inbox is filled with random issues and scheduled meetings for the upcoming weeks. Your DMs are alight with notifications too-- these, less urgent. 

Izuku Midoriya -> are you alive? or did Mr. Aizawa murder you?

Oh, if only he knew how quickly things change.

we're both alive and well somehow <-

Another message comes through, this one in a different tab.

Hizashi Yamada -> I see you online!

Trying to sneak some work in before I get out of bed. <-

Hizashi Yamada -> Send me your room number.

He arrives in less than five minutes. As usual, Hizashi is put together in a respectfully ostentatious way. His all black outfit might be velvet because of how it eats the light, equally matte and shiny all at once. It’s the type of clothing you wish you could pull off-- or afford --but he wears it so easily, with a confidence you could never have. No, you could never so gracefully enter a room and throw off a jacket like some supermodel.

“How was the presentation?” he asks as he flops into bed beside you. It's a different feeling than being next to Aizawa; he’s perched like a girl gossiping during a slumber party, hair tosselled on your silk pillow. You close your laptop and carefully place it aside. There’s no way you’ll be working with Hizashi around.  That was probably his plan all along.

“I didn’t go-- you didn’t go either?” You playfully shove him.  “You're a bad friend!”

“I woke up late.” He shrugs, feigning sympathy with a content smirk. “And had other things to do this morning, if you catch my drift.”

He throws in an unnecessary wink. Your cringe is a reflex- you don’t really mind hearing about Hizashi’s conquests, but it does make you think about last night again. All you did was kiss, but your skin prickles as if you did more, as if you want more. 

And maybe you do. You’ve been tossing the idea around all morning, trying to figure out exactly what you want, not only from the man, but from yourself, but every time you think about it too hard, the image of Touya flashes in your mind, and your thoughts are tumbling once again.

You think of your mother. It used to be your worst fear to become her, but each day that passes, you see more of her in your eyes, in the thinness in  your skin.

“You okay, babygirl?”

He points directly at the space between your eyes, where you’ll one day have the same worried creases your mother has.. “You’ve got a face on your face.”

You try to wipe away whatever he’s seeing, but it clearly doesn’t work. Hizashi looks at you harder, expression especially soft. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m just-” you shrug. Is there a word for what you're feeling? Ennui? Horror? Somewhere in between? “Shaking off a weird feeling.”

“Weird feeling-” Hizashi throws you a wink. “I think we call it a hangover.”

“I’m not hungover--”

Before you can protest, your friend gasps, so violently that you nearly jump out of your skin. He backs up, hand over his heart and jaw dropped to the floor. “Oh my god. Oh my goooooooodddd.”

“What? What? Am I dying?”

“Your neck!” Now he points to you with a fully straight arm, like he’s accusing you of being a witch. You slap a hand over the spot instinctively. “Hello, that’s a hickey!”

Oh. Oh no. You had been too distracted this morning to notice, but apparently Aizawa’s lips have left a mark on you. Heat flushes across your face; a hickey? Who do you think you are? Kaminari? You’ve had a secret for less than 24 hours and it’s already threatening to come out.

“You got laid last night? With who? Where? When? Tell me everything!” Hizashi pushes down in the mattress to bounce himself, jimmying you up and down in the process.

“Well, uh--” You can’t even begin to make something up. The irrational fears start to take over- what if he figures out exactly who’s mouth left that mark? Hizashi’s a whore-- he might know some sort of mouth forensics or something! Or, you don’t know, maybe you still smell like Aizawa, even 

“You dirty dog, is that why you didn’t see Aizawa’s thing?” Your stomach somehow sinks lower. “Because you and Tensei fucked?”

Tensei?

“Tensei?”

“Oh my god, you totally did. You’re all flustered!”

You had completely forgotten the man even existed. Beautiful Tensei Iida, the ‘sexy’ doctor Hizashi wanted you to have… it’s funny how things never work out the way you think they will.

“It wasn’t Tensei!” You scooch away. “And it’s not a hickey!” 

Hizashi sees through that lie. He crawls on his hands and knees after you. “You gotta tell me, please-”

Crap. He’s not going to let this go. Sex and all that comes with it is Hizashi’s catnip; once he’s gotten a taste of it, he’s deranged. 

Telling the truth certainly isn’t an option. You and Aizawa? The absolute nuclear fallout that would hit the office if that came out would be catastrophic. Hizashi can’t keep his mouth shut, so even hinting at what happened last night could be the end of whatever weird thing you and Shouta have, killing it before you can even name what it is. 

And being so close to launch? It could potentially hinder Aizawa’s image--

And your and Touya’s relationship.

“It was someone I met at the restaurant after you left-” Not completely a lie. “We just-- kissed, I guess. I didn’t want to, you know, do more.”

Hizashi kicks his feet in excitement. His shoes are on your bed- gross.

“Good for you, setting boundaries!” he says. “That’s growth!”

He goofs around for just a moment longer before settling.

“Why do you look so sad about it?” He’s quick to say.  “Did they do something?”

“No! No, it was nice, but-” you start. The truth feels heavy, yet silly at the same time. You know the reaction you’re about it get, and yet you say it anyway-  “I don't know, I started to think about Touya this morning and-”

Hizashi’s face falls so hard that you swear you can hear it. His hatred of Touya has never been a secret, but before Touya made his disappearing act, he at least kept his comments to a minimum. With no Touya, there’s no limit to Hizashi’s public loathing.

“I love you. So much.” He takes your hand in his. He’s still on his knees, hunched over you awkwardly, those damn shoes still on the bed. “But thought you were over this shitbag.”

You want to protest. He’s not a shitbag, he’s just having a hard time. He’s not a bad guy, the drugs just make him that way. He’s a good boy underneath all of the troubles, you know it’s true.

But you’ve run out of excuses years ago. All you can say is the truth: “I think I still love him.” 

Compassion contorts your friend’s face. “Oh, girl. Girl. You don’t.”

“Hizashi-” You try to slide away, but he doesn’t let you. 

“He treated you like garbage for years. Years!” The blonde squeezes your hand. “And he wasn’t loyal, he wasn’t safe, he wasn’t kind or sober or-” 

“It's not like he abused me or something.” You say it so quickly that it feels tinny on your lips. Both of you go quiet for a second and Hizashi throws his hands up in surrender. He ducks his head low, not in defeat, but in a humble act, like a dog that’s pushed it’s boundaries a bit too far.  With a sigh, he sits back on his knees, allowing there to be space between you.

“I didn't say that,” he says carefully.  “It doesn't have to be abuse, that doesn't mean it's healthy.”  

There’s a hesitation, then he reaches out his hand again. You don’t take it, but he keeps it there, in the air, waiting for you.

“I just care about you. I know ‘muri and I get a bit too pushy and wild sometimes, but it’s because we want you to have fun for once. We-- we want you to be with someone that makes you feel good-- who thinks you’re the best thing in the world,” Hizashi says. “We want you to get what you deserve and Touya isn’t that.”

A different type of warm runs over you- a watery one, one that stings at your eyes. You aren’t sure where the well of emotion has come from, but it’s there, bubbling just under the surface. You try to sniffle without giving yourself away. 

“Would it be so bad to let yourself move on and try something new?” Hizashi smiles.  “Let yourself have a little fun for once?”

Reluctantly, you take his hand. He squeezes and coos, pulling your hand into an awkward faux-hug, right about his heart.

 “Let yourself have fun, let yourself live.”

“I’m gonna try to try.”

--

The convention itself goes smoothly. More people ask about Yagi, but the word seems to be spreading: he’s not here. He’ll never be here. The air is bittersweet, but Hizashi always recovers it for you. He keeps the conversation flowing back to work and the bed, with much more ease than you’ll ever have.

The only time you see Aizawa  is when he’s in your periphery. He’s in the corner, caught in some conversation with people whose names you’ve already forgotten. Tensei’s by his side, basking in the probable praise, while Aizawa just nods along. The presentation must have gone well, you gather from the attention they’re both getting. That’s both good and bad; the work deserves credit, but Aizawa…

What a heavy secret to carry. What a prominent shame. He didn’t want you to see, but he was okay with all of these strangers ogling him like a science experiment. 

Does that make you more important than those strangers? Or less?

You try to look for an opening to leave, but one never seems to come.

Only once do you catch him staring back at you, his expression too far away to be read. The thump of your heart steps out of rhythm for a moment before you get yourself together.

“I see you eyeing up Tensei,” Hizashi teases. “Are you sure he isn’t your mystery man?”

You deny it, but Hizashi is unconvinced.

----

The three of you finally reunite over dinner. This time, Hizashi swears he will stay the whole time.

This time, you don’t want him to.

You’ve settled into a different booth than you were in last night. Again, the chip basket is empty before Aizawa can arrive. He’s always running late for these things, either through lack of effort or lack or lack of time management. If he didn’t have a presentation tomorrow, you’d be annoyed, but you decide to give the man a break.

Though, you do wonder if you’ll be allowed to see this one. You’ll have to go, right? It’s about your company.

“I still can’t believe you managed to pick up Tensei with Aizawa right there.”  Hizashi leans back into the booth.

“It wasn’t Tensei,” you insist. “And he was distracted.”

“By what?”

You aren’t a quick liar. 

“Some girl.” Or a good one. “They went off together.”

You know you’ve fucked up by the look on Hizashi’s face. He sits up, staring at you from over his glasses with a slack jawed amazement.

“You're lying.” He sits up even more. “You're lying straight to my face right now.”

Fear thrums you so hard that your stomach almost revolts on impact. 

“I’ve never seen Shouta pick up a stranger, ever.” Hizashi throws his hands up in the air for effect. “Never, ever. Not even in college! ”

Looking back, you should have said he was struck by lightning. That would have been more believable. From what you remember, Aizawa doesn’t date very often - or at all. You can’t remember if he’s ever brought someone to a work event or even mentioned a partner.  (Which makes you feel equally bad and… special. Are you an exception to his rule? Are you different? 

…Or, more likely, he’s just a private guy. But you can pretend.)

“Well, uh, I dunno what to say.” You still haven’t come up with a better lie. “Ask him yourself.”

“I will!”

Good. That gives you time to text Shouta and warn him about that shit storm he’s about to enter. The two of you can come up with a lie that makes sense and won’t send Hizashi screaming. Suddenly, you’re grateful that Aizawa can’t show up on time for-

“Again with the chips?”

Fuck!!

As if summoned, Aizawa is behind you, shrugging off his jacket. He’s in the same suit as he was earlier, but a lot more disheveled after making it through the day. The social interaction really took it out of him; no wonder he’s so quiet at the office. You pat the seat next to you and he practically slumps into it.

“Please tell me you aren’t escaping again tonight,” he says to Hizashi.

“Oh, no, I’m not going anywhere, trust me.” That smile sets the whole table on guard. “I have too many questions.”

“If you had questions, you should have shown up to the talk,” Aizawa says. “Which went well, by the way. Thank you for asking.”

“You didn’t give me a chance to ask, asshole.”

“Should have been the first words out of your mouth.”

“Well, sorry, Mr. Sensitive. I didn’t think I needed to stroke your ego today! Should I start singing your praises now, or after we verbally jack you off for a bit?”

“We are in public, Mic, stop talking about jacking off.”

“How was your presentation, oh smart one?”

“It was--”  Aizawa stops himself mid sentence, brow furrowed as he turns directly towards you. “You’re being quiet.”

“Me?” you point to yourself as if you don’t know the answer. The accusation makes your heart race- or maybe it’s those sharp eyes, boring down into you. 

“Why are you being quiet?” he says with an accusatory glare. “What did you do?”

Hizashi erupts into a giggle and the attention is finally turned away from you. 

“I heard that you went home with someone-”

Aizawa’s gaze snaps to you.  It takes effort to press your lips down and keep a neutral expression; anxiety is trilling inside you, high and frail and wild, like a little flute in a marching band finale. The man tilts his head just a bit, eyes sharp and questioning, clearly trying to interrogate you while completely silent.

“Where did you hear that, Yamada?” Aizawa’s tone isn’t flat now. No, it’s pressed, stressed; he thinks you’ve told him everything. You try to gesture with just your eyes -- three normal blinks and wide eyes, like a makeshift morse code. This obviously fails.

“Little miss girl here-” Hizashi waggles his eyebrows and Aizawa’s pupils dilate with fear-  “told you you went home with a stranger from the restaurant.” 

Realization hits Aizawa’s expression, then, relaxation. His whole body turns to you with a belabored sigh. “You little snitch.”  

The smile you’ve been trying to fight erupts across your face.  You burst into a nervous giggle, one that you have to silence with your own hand. This is a dangerous line you’re walking; Hizashi isn’t a stupid guy- he’s going to figure out something’s wrong if either of you slip up.

“It’s true?” Hizashi gasps. “What? You? You?”

“Is it really so weird that I had sex with someone?” Aizawa says.  “You do it all the time.”

“You aren’t a hook up guy!” Hizashi peers from over his glasses.  “You’re a ‘third date and a bottle of wine’ guy!”

“When have I ever had a bottle of wine?”

“Okay, ‘third date and an air of desperation.’ How's that?”

Aizawa  wrinkles his nose and bares his teeth, barking out a canned laugh. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Fuck off.” 

The shorter man sits back in his seat and uses his drink to gesture to you. “Why don’t you harass Miss Hickey over there instead?”

The attention shifts to you for only a moment before Hizashi waves you away with the back of his hand. He shifts forward on to his elbows, directly towards his friend..“She just made out with a guy, I don’t care about that-”

“-Hey!” you object. As if Aizawa isn’t the reason you’re bruised in the first place! The dark haired man is purposefully looking down his nose at you, expression taut. 

“Sorry, but I need every nitty gritty detail of Shouta’s night ASAP. “ Hizashi grinds you back on track.

The two of them have been friends since college, you remember. You’d never really been able to see the connection before; they’re both so different that they almost seem like they’d never mesh, but today they are huddled together like boys, mirroring each other’s movements. You wonder if there were lots of nights like these, gossiping over girls and wild nights.

Did Hizashi know him before the car accident?

“I’ll tell you later, Mic,” Aizawa says.  “After she’s gone.”

It’d be best to stay quiet, but you can’t bring yourself to be purposefully excluded.

“You don’t want to get dirty in front of me, huh?” you tease. Besides, you’d like to see what he comes up with. “I can handle it.”

He doesn’t take the bait. “I’m not a sharer.”

You turn away with a little shrug. “Hm.”

Aizawa almost doesn’t respond. The gears turn behind his eyes, slowly grinding away at his patience until he grits out a little: “What?” 

His knee bumps into yours under the table. It’s fleeting, but there. 

“I was just thinking-” you start. “Maybe you’re a bit of a coward.”

“Coward?” he replies.

“Afraid to gossip-” 

It’s Aizawa’s turn to huff. “Gentlemen don’t gossip.”

“Since when are you a gentleman?” Hizashi barks out a laugh.

With another exhale, Aizawa closes his eyes. A moment, then another passes, before he opens them again, one brow raised. It’s the same expression a teacher would give to the class after too much clownery. No wonder the interns are terrified of the man, you’d be scared too if you weren’t so excited to see where this is going. 

“You really want me to tell you what I did last night?” He’s deadpan. “Really?”

Both of you nod. 

“Fine.” He throws his hands up in defeat.  “I met this woman at the bar. Bought her a cocktail-”

“What kind of cocktail?” you interject.

“What?” Aizawa stares at you, lip curled in frustration. You’re making lying harder and you know that, but excitement is driving you forward. The risk doesn’t outweigh the reward quite yet. “I don’t know- something sweet.”

“Hm.”

“Margarita. The spicy kind. She tasted like it all night.”

Aizawa is alarmingly good at lying. He does it with a straight face, minus the telltale curl of his lip, but Hizashi doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy sitting on the edge of his seat. You’re still trying to reconcile all of the versions of him inside your head: the work version, the ‘lover’ you met, and this lackadaisical liar. 

“Keep going.” Hizashi urges.

“Then we went back to her room. Didn’t even make it to the bed.”

The way he lays down each word is slow, meticulous, purposeful; the narrative he builds is crafted especially for you, but you aren’t quite sure of his goal. 

“ Is that enough detail?”

“Boo-” Hizashi’s fanning the flame now too. “Not the fade to black storytelling!”

Aizawa ducks in close, resting on his forearms as he talks. His gaze flicks between you and Hizashi, but lingers much longer on you, flickering down to your lips every now and again. His timbre drops lower, gritty, rolling as he whispers. 

“We went back to her room-”

You’re watching his mouth a bit too intensely. 

“- I got on my hands and knees-”

He enunciates it slowly, so neither of you miss a moment. A shiver goes up your spine. There’s a weight to his breath, a genuine enjoyment. Would he get on his knees for you?

“And I  begged to eat her out.” 

He’s proud of it. Oh, he would get down for you. He’d plead for the privilege. His leg brushes against yours again, this time with pressure and purpose, and your skin crawls with excitement. It’s just a story. You know it’s not true. 

But the glint in his eye says that he wishes it wasn’t.

“And?” your voice shakes a bit. That’s his goal, isn’t it? To get you riled up? To make you regret forcing him into this situation?

Aizawa rubs the spot where his jaw connects with a slow, purposeful circle, like he’s trying to rub out a kinked muscle. It’s borderline boastful. “And that’s how I spent the night.”

Hizashi tips his head back and laughs so loudly that the table next to you stares. “Good for you!”

“Good for her,” Aizawa replies.

Hizashi rolls his eyes. “I almost forgot you’re a munch. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten any, so-”

“Watch it, Hizashi.”

You regret the question before you ask it. “Uh, what’s a munch?”

Both of them look at you.

“Well, it’s clearly not Touya,” Hizashi mumbles, and you shoot him a glare. 

“It’s a slang term for someone who really enjoys…” Aizawa trails off, cocking his head expectantly. 

“Eating pussy,” Hizashi finishes for him. 

Another thrill of excitement goes up your spine. Enjoys it? Is that even possible? The idea has you woozy. 

“Yeah, that’s totally not Touya,” you manage to say.

Hizashi makes another comment, but you can’t force yourself to focus on that. No, not when your heart is beating like this. It’s just words, a fake story, but there’s a silent promise to it as well. You wonder what would have happened last night if you said yes. Would he have spent the night between your legs, eating simply for your pleasure?

Want trembles in your hands as you pretend to check your phone. Is it pathetic? To be worked up over a silly little story, made up to cover your tracks? The waiter comes, you all order. Aizawa’s knee pumps against yours- once accidentally, once on purpose. You hope he doesn’t notice how you’re squirming in your seat, trying to ignore the way your body is craving pressure and attention. You think, maybe, if you move right, you could get the seam of your pants to hit just right-

What are you doing? This is pathetic. 

“I’m going to go to the bathroom.” You don’t wait for a response. Pushing up from the table, you turn down the back of the restaurant. The signs lead you into a little back hallway, tucked by the kitchen, where the lighting is respectfully dim. You have to wait a moment because the door is locked, but you don’t mind. It gives you time to mull over everything.

Maybe Hizashi is right; maybe it’s okay to try something new. It’s been years since you’ve felt this alive with someone, this excited to get something more. With Touya, sex became more of an obligation. Maybe it could be different with someone else. Maybe it could be something fun, something-

A hand catches you by the back of your shirt, not hard enough to yank you backwards, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks.  A gasp squeaks out of you as you stagger back into the chest of the man behind you. You crank around to see- only to relax when you realize it’s just Aizawa.

“You scared me,” you mumble out a lament. 

“You little sneak.” With a thumb, he tilts your chin up, so far that you’re looking back at him. His other fingers press ever so nicely into the length of your neck, drawing you back into his chest. There’s nothing constricting your breath, but suddenly your lungs are empty, breathless, and your parted lips pull nothing in. Aizawa’s dark eyes are narrowed, boring straight down into yours.

Oh, he’s pissed. 

And, for the first time, that excites you.

“You like making me sweat, don’t you?” His free hand is looped around your waist, holding you much tighter than the other. “Almost getting us caught-- You make me so mad sometimes.” 

The kitchen is full of mumbled orders and the clang of dishware. It echoes through the dark hall you’ve trapped yourselves in, you aren’t alone, no matter how badly you wish it to be true.  

“Thought you liked me,” you whisper.

You swear there’s a subtle dilation to his eyes, involuntary. Real. “I do.”

He leans over and dots a simple kiss on to your forehead, right where your hair meets skin. It’s simple, soft, but, god, it sets everything inside you into this wet, wobbly, needy heat, something soft and harsh all at once.

“Even when you piss me off.” The hand around your neck twitches playfully, with no real constriction. 

It’s cliche, you think, how you just sort of watch each other, breathless, patient. Neither of you tries to make a move, locked together. He smells good. Not like anything you can name, just… good.  It’s the same good you feel in your chest and an equal good to how your hands feel when you reach backwards and grab his hips. 

“I’m starting to think you like making me mad.”

“Shouta-” you say his name because he likes it, because it makes him lean in closer to you-

The bathroom door flies open and you both pull away like you’ve touched a hot stove. The woman who exists definitely knows something’s up; she rolls her eyes and sends a text on her phone as she passes. The two of you share a look; you, relieved, Aizawa amused. It’s as if you're sixteen again, with this fluttering feeling in your stomach you can’t quite swallow down. It’s too bright to be anxiety.

Aizawa steps back a bit with a nod. Oh, right, the bathroom. You don’t actually have to go, but it would be silly to not go in now. Maybe you can just try to go-

You look back at your Aizawa.

Or maybe.

Or maybe you can have some fun.

With uncharacteristic confidence, you hook a finger under a button of his shirt and tug. Aizawa’s face goes bright with realization. He falls into following as you guide him forward into the bathroom, step by awkward step, backwards until the door opens against your weight. Aizawa glances around before the door closes after him, making sure to remain unspotted, then turns to you with a wicked, narrowed, glowering look. 

The bathroom is simple, but nice. The lighting is sharp and bright, the floor is white and clean. A decorative table is wedged into the corner, topped with extra towels and real flowers in water. Your brain can’t process more than that- not with a dark haired man wrapped around your finger. He has the forethought to lock the door behind him.

“What are you doing-?” he grumbles wickedly, ducking down to catch you in a kiss, but you don’t let him make contact. You dip away, drawing him further and further in, until you’re backed against the little decorative table. With his weight, he shifts you back until your ass is seated properly on that wiggly table, one hand back to brace yourself. Finally, he traps you, stubble rough against your cheek, lips soft against yours.

“I thought we were going slow,” he says into your lips. You don’t respond-- you can’t. Your breath is stolen from your lungs, the need to breathe replaced with the need for him, the need for touch-

You hook a leg over his waist and his hand flies to it, folding it higher, pulling it tighter. 

“Oh, you can’t help it, can you?” he mumbles. “One little story about eating pussy has you desperate for it, huh?”

“Y-you-” You hate that you can’t dirty talk smoothly like he can.

“Yeah?” He’s almost condescending. “Yeah? What does my girl want?”

Embarrassment floods your cheeks with heat. Aizawa waits for it, hovering above you. Oh, he won’t give it to you until you really ask, will he? You have to physically brace yourself to say it.

“Will you kiss it?” you ask, much meeker than intended. 

“Kiss ‘it’?” You expect him to keep picking at you, but instead his hands are busy unbuttoning your pants, guiding them down. “Do you mean-”

His lips find your hickey and the spot aches under the connection. “Here?”

Creeping lower, he hunches over your chest. This time, he pecks at the hem of your shirt. “Here?”

Down he goes, on to his knees. This kiss lands in your stomach, right where the tightness of want sits-

“Here?”

“Shouta-” You’re mad and annoyed and you’d frankly settle for him kissing you anywhere at this point-

Hands slip your pants down past your knees. When the air hits your skin, you suddenly realize just how wet you are, how it’s bled through your panties and smeared across your thigh. Before you can process anything, his mouth is over your clothed cunt, wide mouthed and kissing. The drag of his tongue is a lot, even though the fabric; the contact has your spine flexing all on its own.

“Here?”

“There, there,” You’re clinging on to handfuls of his hair already. “Right there.”

But Aizawa doesn’t kiss you again. 

“In a public bathroom?” He’s watching you from the floor. Your leg is looped over his back. He’s surprisingly wide and thick under you; your legs have to spread so far to fit him. God, your body is plaint enough that it just gives to his pushing hands and demands.

 “You like it nasty.”

You can’t bring yourself to respond. Your brain is fried with a deadly combination of horny and embarrassed. Is this really what you want? 

“No, you don’t like it dirty, do you?” It feels like he’s reading your mind, hands kneading your thighs with a growing hunger. He plants a kiss where your legs meets your underwear and your cunt pulses in response. “My girl just needs it so bad, doesn’t she?”

Teeth sink into your inner thigh and you kick in response: another fucking hickey. The thing that got you into this mess-

“That’s right, my girl.” He’s talking to himself now, mumbling just under his breath. A finger loops under your panties, the same way your finger looped under his button, and there’s no time to feel shame before he exposes your pussy.  “You went home with me.” 

You expect him to go straight for your clit, to devour you with the fucking need that’s been building between you all goddamn night-

But, instead, he touches his lips to the crest of your mons and breathes. It’s hot, molten, pours down you like molten lava. It’s the faintest, tickling touch, but it’s enough, it’s more than enough. A moan rips out of you, so unexpected that you jump at your own voice. 

Usually, when you have sex, you’re worried about the small things. Whether or not you’ve shaved, whether you look thin enough or pretty enough, but now, the only thing you can think about is being touched, needing touch, desiring touch.

And the time.

“We-” He hasn’t even started and you’re quivering for it. “We gotta hurry before Mic-”

“I promised you-” Aizawa says, firmly. “That we’d go slow.”

Finally, gloriously, you feel the hot press of his tongue, dragging up through your excitement. Every inch he takes is painstakingly slow until he hits the nub of your clit. That contact is fast, fleeting, but it still sends you keening and gasping. Every important muscle inside you is bunched and coiled, filled with enough potential energy to set the whole fucking restaurant on fire. You’re going to cum. You’re going to cum from practically nothing.

The vase of flowers on the table is overturned. You don’t even remember knocking it over. Water pools under your ass and everything is wet, from you, to the mess, to his drool across your inner thigh. His mouth closed over you the same way someone would eat a peach, sucking with this absurdly lewd sound as if he’s afraid to let any of your excitement escape. His jaw moves slow - just like he fucking promised- and doesn’t miss an inch of skin as he closes his mouth, lips coming closed around your clit. The pressure feels heavenly against the already puffy parts of your pussy and your hands clasp his dark locks tighter. You aren’t sure if you’re trying to pull him away or pull him closer; your body is just reacting, like neurons are firing all on their own.

Fingers clamp around your thighs. Aizawa is groaning, voice so low it vibrates against you, as if he’s the one receiving it, not you. Enjoys eating pussy… the memory rings through your skull. Fuck, what an understatement; he eats pussy like he needs it to live. His eyes are lidded heavy with pleasure. Every lick and suck and touch along the tapestry of your cunt is wet and wild, but aggravatingly skilled. The heat of his mouth against your clit - firm, but not hard- is enough to steal your breath away.

Then, he pulls away, and your pleasure begins to unravel-- unfairly fast. You hadn’t realized how close to the precipice you had been until you started falling away. The feeling is disastrous. 

He speaks with a heady exhale, warm and not nearly enough. “You taste-”

“Shut up,” Now you’re definitely pulling his face back towards you this time. “Shut up, shut up, shut up-”

He silences himself with your cunt. 

This time, there’s no savoring. His lips and tongue are on your clit, sucking in mouthfuls of your folds, bouncing against the involuntary roll of your hips. Everything inside you is hot and sticky, thick like honey. You’re saying something, maybe, but it’s all high pitched and garbled. The rub from Aizawa's stubble sends a chill up your spine and the hot and cold inside you melts into something smooth-

You can feel your orgasm coming long before it hits, everything inside you pulling high and tight, like the ocean rolling before a wave. The crest hasn't hit, but it's going to come, you're going to cum-

And then you look down, and Aizawa's staring back at you, with those dark, hooded eyes, and you unravel. It’s not my other orgasms you've had: a full body feeling, like the flush to warmth you get when alcohol hits your stomach. It rolls, through you, away from you, against you- in every fucking direction until every ounce of tension is smoothed from your muscles. Boneless had always sounded silly, but now you understand exactly what it means; you slump back and try to catch your breath.

Aizawa’s movements slow, but never stop. He runs the flat face of his tongue against you until you gather the energy you shove him back. For a split second, a string of your cum ties between you and his mouth.

“Shit,” you breathe. Your surroundings feel more tangible suddenly. The sink drips, the walls echo the restaurant’s soft muzak, Aizawa’s cheeks glimmer with your wetness: it’s all suddenly real.

“I cannot believe-” He wipes his face on his sleeve.

“Shit,” you repeat. That was insane. You were insane! Your friend is waiting at the table, probably wondering what happened to you two-

“-that you let me do that. You came so--”

“Shit.” This is exactly what you needed. “I’ve never-”

Aizawa sits back on his knees with a stiff grunt. “Don’t tell me you’ve never orgasmed before.”

“No! I’ve totally-” You awkwardly shimmy up your pants and instantly regret it. It’s wet. It’s cold. “No one’s ever gone down on me before.”

Aizawa gives you the slowest, longest blink you’ve ever seen. Then, he shakes his head and stands up, brushing his pants off. You debate asking if his leg hurts, but decide against it. “How do you continuously say things that make me want to go insane?” 

He huffs about it, but you’re starting to unravel the strings of affection he weaves into his sentences. You shrug, biting back your smile.

“I’m just special, I guess.”

Eyes closed, he gives you a nod, tempering himself.

“Go back to the table before we’re caught.”

Fuck-- that’s right. You two have been gone for long enough that it's starting to get suspicious. Besides, there’s going to be a line outside the door if you don’t get moving soon- if there isn’t a line already. You quickly check your outfit and adjust your hair in the mirror; your skin looks brighter than usual. The power of an orgasm, you guess.

“Don’t  you want me to…?” You give a little jerk off motion and Aizawa rolls his eyes at the behavior-- as if he didn’t just eat your pussy in a fucking bathroom.

“I don’t want you to do anything to me,” he insists. He helps you off of the table with a hand, then ushers you towards the locked door. “I want to lay you down and eat you out until your brain factory resets like a cheap Macbook.”

He’s already done that, but okay, you could be down for more-

“But we are in a bathroom.” He gestures around him.  “In a restaurant.”

You add: “With Hizashi waiting.”

“With Mic waiting. He’s smart- he’ll figure us out if we aren’t careful,” he agrees. “Now, get out there and cover me.”

Suddenly, Aizawa leans over and kisses you. It’s not deep, but you can taste your musk on his lips and that makes your spine thrill with excitement.  It’s illicit in a way that makes you feel young and happy and, and, and-

And all those weird, indescribable highs you get when your brain is drowned in dopamine and oxytocin. For a fleeting moment, you reach out and grab his hands, holding on for only a squeeze.

“Your room tonight?” you ask when he pulls away. Your head is still racing, head still swimming-

He grimaces. “Yours has better pillows.”

“I brought them from home.” He was in your bed last night, in your pussy moments ago, but the fact he knows your pillow feels so strangely intimate. “I like silk pillowcases.”

The expression in his face softens, just at the crowed corner of his eyes. “Of course you do.” He jerks his chin towards the door.  “Get going.”

“Sho-”

“Get.”

And you walk out with wobbly knees.

[joylinda-hawks]

I think it was summer 2018. ZZH showed up at one of the events - the awards ceremony in a burgundy blazer. It was probably the first time he chose a blazer in this color with black pants at an official gala. This color, burgundy, is not an easy color. You have to be lucky to look elegant and dignified in such a color. The next time we saw ZZH in a blazer in this color was when he was recording the series Everyone Wants to Meet You in France. However, returning to this gala and the photos that ZZH took then, it must be said that although this set may not have been a good choice, ZZH looked fantastic in it. A better choice with a velvet blazer was to choose less shiny pants. I think the stylist wanted to match the pants to the collar of the blazer, but in my opinion matte black pants would have worked better. But overall, it's not bad. ZZH slowly started to learn fashion and tried to dress appropriately for a specific event. A big plus for him is that he chose such an unusual color. However, he conservatively chose a simple white shirt and a black bow tie. In this way, he created such a safe styling with an original color addition. From several photos, I chose the one in which ZZH is posing by the wall. There is a wide smile on his face. ZZH's face is shining with happiness. A nice hairstyle with shorter hair perfectly matches his person and styling. ZZH standing pretending to button his jacket is, in my opinion, a better pose than the one in which ZZH has his hands in his trouser pockets. It seems not very elegant to me. Here, ZZH really looks like a very happy person. Maybe this was the moment when he stopped being an anonymous actor for a moment and caught the attention of photographers and the media. Because ZZH deserved to be appreciated with his hard work.

[witchthewriter]

Hi dear! I wondered if I could participate in the ships game!🌸

Fandoms: Harry Potter, Marvel, Pirates of Caribbean

About me: she/her, heterosexual, INTJ

• I love talking about the things I’m passionate about

• I like wisteria trees

• I cannot stand people who play one other’s weaknesses- especially if it’s only for their own game

• I dislike horrible liars - if you lie at least be creative

• proficient at chess and arts

• either slow or very fast thinker

• highly intuitive

• interested in time and history, different cultures and traditions

Thank you in advance for your time and energy 🌸🌿

Want one? Here be the rules 🦋

Thank you so much for participating! It means so much 🌹 I hope you enjoy <3

Here’s your moodboard

Each ship is similar because of their:

⋆ nobility ⋆ compassion ⋆ yearn for justice  ⋆ good-hearted

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 I ship you with Neville Longbottom! He's sensitive, compassionate and chivalrous. He would always hold your best interests at heart and make sure you're living your best life. He would share your love for wisteria trees and show you different plants.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠 ⭑ You met while at Hogwarts; you never saw Neville in a romantic light. Not until the battle of Hogwarts. His bravery and courageous decisions made you fall, hard.

⭑ It was afterwards, during the makeshift 7th year, that your crush was deepening.    “Just tell him!” Your friend urged, bumping you in the arm.  “What if he says no!” You retorted; face turning a bright shade of red. 

⭑ It was a few weeks of pining before your friend created a plan. Although it could be said that she was being a bad friend, you would be telling the story for years to come. 

⭑ She had posed as you, sending Neville an owl asking him to meet down at the willow tree by the lake. Then she invited you there, under the pretense of hanging out. 

⭑ The interaction was a bit awkward, before understanding what your friend had done. But you had slipped up, when explaining to him about the situation, you told him about your crush. 

⭑ The moment you did, your hand slapped over your mouth and your eyes went wide. Stuttering, you turned to leave but Neville stopped you...

⭑ In your relationship, you definitely wear the pants. Neville just feels lucky to be with you, and is usually a loved-up puppy

⭑ He likes when you rub circles on his back 

⭑ He’ll leave notes around your place, letting you know he thinks of you

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 I ship you with Matt Murdock/Daredevil. I think he's the best match for you out of the three, honestly. He has a strong sense of justice and doesn't like to kill his opponents - merely maim. He wants the best for those around him, and his selflessness can almost seem like he’s only thinking about himself, weird isn’t it? I think Matt would connect with your personality in the sense that he can understand you. He’s intuitive, empathetic and doesn’t like manipulative people. His secret as a vigilante tears him apart. 

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠 ⭑ No matter how you met, Matt left a big impression on you. Even though he’s blind, he knew more then you expected him too. 

⭑ He asked you out because he liked something you said. I mean he has a few women in his life, but they didn’t fully get where he was coming from. 

⭑ You were on his mind a lot, catching himself thinking of you; your voice, the way your heart beat a little faster when he was around you. 

⭑ He could tell you were nervous on the date, and moved his hand to yours. Without having to speak, you two were on the same wavelength.

⭑ In the relationship, there are many quiet moments. Not because there isn’t anything to talk about, but because there’s no need for it. It’s comfortable silence. 

⭑ His nickname for you would be your last name, he likes to say it with a smirk

⭑ Matt also likes to rile you up, teasing you and pushing your buttons

𝐏𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐧

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 I ship you with Will Turner! I chose him because you said you were passionate but also liked traditions and history. I feel like you'd probably be neutral good rather than chaotic good - so you would clash with Jack Sparrow's mayhem/havoc. I think you're someone who likes to be secure. But you're not so stiff that you'd match with James Norrington - he's on the other end of the spectrum. You would work very well with Will; he's open-minded but still likes tradition, he's up for adventure without pushing for it and just wants someone to be as committed to him as he is to them.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

⭑ Will likes you’re elegance (even if you don’t think you have any.)

⭑ Giving each other massages

⭑ His nickname for you would be something sweet like; love, darling, sweetheart.

⭑ Would give up the pirate life in an instant for you 

⭑ He would know that he wants to marry you almost instantly 

⭑ Doesn’t matter what class you are, where you came from or what you look like. He cares about whats inside - who you are

⭑ Very romantic; loves to get you flowers

⭑ Hates when other men look at you

[thequeenofmyownscreen]

Fifteen things I noted about CR2E126 “Worth Fighting For” :

The lesbians are doing it !! (the date)

I appreciate Travis' commitment to stay frozen during the NordVPN bit. This reminds me of that scene where Grog and Vax were petrified by the fairies in Campaign 1, and they stood their pose for minutes.

This is the year Fjord didn’t regain his dignity. Slap those tits !!

Matt, narrating Jester casting a Restoration on Fjord : "As she places her hands on your chest, even as she tried to warm them up, they're still pretty cold --" Travis, outraged : "Pecs ! My pecs ! My rock hard fucking pecs !" Matt, looking at him in judgement for 2 seconds of silence : "... --on your chest." Travis, accepting his fate : "Yep"

Yasha, talking about the mark on Fjord : "I could try to rub it out. Well, that didn't work with Beau, so..." Travis, out of character, laughing : "How many hands do you need for that ?" Ashley, immediately, also laughing : "I don't even need my hands !"

Awwwww, the flower Veth bought was for Beau ! I really thought Sam was trying to upper-hand it with his intent to have Yasha and Veth do a friend date, but in the end, he always choses grace and friendship.

Oh my god, I love the fake persona Jester was going for during the infiltration of the dance hall. That accent !!! Laura Bailey I owe you my life.

I do feel for Astrid. The simple revelation that she holds it up together until she finds an alleyway and just... cries... for 10 minutes, with no witnesses. Hit me so hard.

Jester, out of nowhere : "I'm going to call my vagina Lady D from now on."

the "Burn your past" speech from Veth to Caleb was... Veth is very interesting to think about in this arc, she's found what she was looking for (her family being safe and reunited) but she's conflicted about abandoning her other family, so she's doing a lot of pushing, not only with Caleb, but also with Fjord and Beau, including what could be considered 'meddling' in relationships... and Caleb's thoughts on what happened with Trent.

THE DATE IS HAPPENING !!! THE LESBIANS ARE DOING IT, well, not it it, you know, but maybe ?? I love how Marisha was taken aback by Liam having Caleb create the tower and making the executive decision that his friend should have her date now.

Caleb narrating the date is him being the greatest lesbian ally ever

"I fell in love with you in Kamordah" OH MY GOD YASHA, it's so soon and yet so not soon because this is literally episode 126 after they met.

I love that most of their friends were watching respectfully (no, really) silent and all, and then there's Laura who's reacting like Aabria and Travis in ExU (meaning : doing funny faces and whispering "KISS")

THE NINJAS !!! the image of Beauregard, straddling Yasha after making out with her, and saying "Sorry babe. Gotta handle these ninjas" is... something ! something in the "This Better Not Awake Anything In Me" territory

I love that Beau and Yasha were making out at location number 3 (...on a date with 9 locations...) of the date, and decided, after location number 4, to just bail and go have sex. Classic !

[zanesgirlfriend]

Fuck, Marry, Kill | Vlog Squad

Requested by anonymous: no rush or anything cause i know ur busy with requests but if you feel inspired could you maybe write something where the vs decides to play fmk and david or maybe corinna keep saying they’d marry/f the reader whenever her name comes up!!

_____

"I would be down to play spin the bottle, but how do I know one of you doesnt have a disease?" You joked around with your friends.

"Jonah has to have something!" Corinna pointed at him, recieving an offended scoff from him in return.

"Vlog squad dies from STD they gave to eachother. I already see it in the headlines!" Jason laughed.

"Okay, what about Fuck, Marry, Kill?" David glanced around the living room, that devilish smile on his face. Everyone agreed and Zane started it off.

"Fuck, marry, kill, Natalie, Y/n, and Corinna." He smiled, the hardest one right out of the gate.

"This is nearly Impossible." Jeff pointed out, thinking for a moment. You and the other subjects of fmk perked up, eager to hear their responses. "Fuck Natalie, marry y/n, kill corinna because she's the most annoying." Jeff smiled and shrugged. Pouty Girl pouted for a moment as she awaited Zane's answer.

"Fuck y/n, marry Natalie, kill Corinna."

"Hey!" Corinna screamed, not used to being the one who gets killed in this game. Growing up she'd always been the F in FMK. You could see the disappointment on her face and you felt bad.

"Okay, fmk, David, Zane, and Jeff." You shouted over the room, hoping to change the subject so Corinna wasn't hurt. "I would fuck Jeff, marry David because he's rich, and I guess kill Zane because he has nothing to offer." The group laughed at your response.

"Kill David for sure," Natalie smiled, rousing laughs from everyone, "Marry Zane and fuck Jeff." She smiled, nudging Zane.

"I would have to Marry David because he has the most money," Matt explained in the way only he can, going on with elaborate answers and somewhat logical reasoning. "Okay, fmk, Carly, Erin, and Y/n." Matt suggested when he finished.

"How come nobody puts me in them?" Jonah butted in, cutting David off from answering.

"It'd be too easy because everyone would kill you." Corinna jabbed at him. Their rivalry was unmatched and quite hilarious to watch. "I would Marry y/n, fuck Erin, and sorry Carly but I'd kill you." Corinna winked at you when she said your name.

"None taken." Carly laughed.

"When you marry someone you still get to fuck them right?" Matt asked the group.

"Of course you would think of a question like that." Jason pointed out.

"He has a valid point there." Jeff interjected. "The person you fuck, you only get to fuck once, but if you marry someone you get to fuck 'em forever."

"Only if they want to! You could just be legally married and still see other people on the side, like an open relationship." Erin also brought up a good point.

As the game went on you noticed how nobody ever killed you. Most people married you or fucked you, giving you winks along the way. You couldn't help but wonder which one of them would actually go through with it.

"Okay, hypothetically, if you had to seriously, legitimately, deadass, fuck one person in the room, who would it be?" You posed the question to the group. A few people said Natalie, Jeff, and David, but quite a few more people chose you.

"Imagine if we had an orgy right now." David laughed.

"David!" You and a few other people screamed.

"Okay, I'm out." Jason stood up, jokingly walking towards the door.

"I'm just saying, what if?" David smiled at you, causing you to blush.

"Um, some of us are like siblings, so no." Natalie added, glaring at David before she stood up and went to her room.

Another hour of talking and laughing commenced and people slowly started to leave. It was late, and most people were tired.

David, Corinna, and Jeff stuck around with you and continued playing. "Are we actually having a foursome, because I'm down." Corinna brought up the forgotten subject again.

"I mean, I wouldn't be opposed." Jeff's high pitched laugh filled the room. "I'm kidding, I'm going home."

"Me too, unless. . ." Corinna looked at you for a moment, laughing and turning towards the door.

You noticed David typing something on his phone, not thinking anything of it until your phone vibrated.

It was a stupid gif from David. A gif of a lizard winking, with which he wrote 'So just us two then?'

"You're stupid, I'm going home." You looked up and smiled at him.

"You love stupid." David reasoned with you. "Please? We don't have to do anything, just stay with me."

It was hard to resist a boy who begged.

[futurewriter2000]

Hi!I know this is weird but i don’t know who i can talk to about this and you write the badass characters so i wanted to ask you.I kinda hate myself.I used to be able to fake it like i loved myself and like i was confident but in the last 2 years everything has fallen apart-including my family- and i do not have anyone to talk about this(i dont trust anyone).Anyways i hate myself in every aspect so do you have any tips on how to gain my confidence and start loving myself inside and out?

Before I start this, I just want to let you know that you are beautiful inside and out already and whoever tries to tell you differently, whether that is social media, family, friends or school- they do not know you. They do not see all the things that make you so darn beautiful and unique. There is literally nothing to hate about yourself when all you’re trying to do is be best of yourself. And everything you see on yourself, everything you  say you hate- that wasn’t given to you for you to hate it. Love made you, life, God if you believe made you this and you are stunning being who you are. Whatever you hate on yourself was not meant to be hated but accepted, so remember that. 

Loving yourself is actually such a long and hard process. Everybody starts their journey differently but I guess for me, I chose to change my mentality. 

I remember I was crying in the end of January last year because I was so awful to myself. I hated everything, just like you and I cried to the point I couldn’t see anything but the only thing I did see was 01.01. on my phone. I’ve been always drawn to number eleven since I started high school and it always bugged me of what it meant but I never looked it up but that night I was so annoyed that I actually went to look it up and it said that I should stop thinking so negatively about my life because all my thoughts are manifesting into my reality and that it is time to start thinking more positively. I can’t describe to you but the feeling I got was really odd. I felt calm and at peace for like a milisecond of that day.

So I started with thinking positively. And it’s so hard to actually think positively. Because days go by when you’re still crying on the floor or screaming at your pillow and you should think positively? But I did keep on with it. I tried to look on the positive side of things, no matter how negaitve it was. Sometimes it was extremely bad but I forced myself to just think positively and I kept saying that to myself when thoughts went dark. So whenever I thought “They probably think you’re annoying them.” - I just said to myself. “So even if they are, so what? I am annoying but I’m also kind and nice and beautiful. I can draw better then them and their situation isn’t as close to mine- so why would I care what they think?”

And you don’t even see it changing. You will think that it’s just for nothing, that it’s not working but it is and it shows months later. For me it started to show in July. I started at the end of January but I started to see it in end of July. Seven months. Seven months of doubts and crying and forcing myself to think positively when everything went to shit but it get’s easier. 

The first change, I notice now not like when it was happening- the first change was that night 01.01. The second change was around March, when I started to put effort in my hair and how I look and taking care of my face and brushing my teeth and all sorts of hygene hacks. I learned how to braid hair- like french braids and all sorts of braids. 

Then around June I started to workout. I wanted to get my body in shape and in the beginning it was hard but sooner or later I started. And I did it not because it was a trend and not because I wanted to do that weightloss progress or prove everybody wrong. I didn’t want people to know what I was doing. I just did it because of myself. I wanted to look good and feel good. I did change my diet but I still eat pizza and white bread and burgers and I don’t have a whole meal planned, I eat when I’m hungry and I don’t eat when I’m not hungry. But I DO punch that bag because it’s a great stress reliever and because my anger can punch something. I did go for a run to clear my head (now not so much because IT’S FREEZING outside). I did want to die on that matt doing mountain climber and shit but man when I tell you that results are BETTER than people make them be. Like you get up easier, you wake up earlier, you go to sleep with a feeling of accomplishment, you start to look what you put in your body- it’s like so much changes. 

The best thing I also did, was go back to doing the things I loved to do as a child. Like drawing and painting and astrology and reading. There is a quote that says something that some people go on in their life doing what they loved as a child and some people just grow up? Or something. I just totally recommend watching and listening to best quotes from greatest thinkers on youtube. Those really make you contemplate on your life. 

Surround yourself with people you want to be with. You know there is also a saying that says something in a way that your energy attracts similar energy. I remember when I started to change my vibration, my energy. When I decided to think more positively, when I was trying to built something out of myself, care for my grades, school, my body, saying how gorgeous I look and some people would just go “HAHAHAH! Sure honey, your hair looks like shit but sure.” and that pissed me off so much because yo, HONEY, that’s my NATURAL hair and IF I REMEMBER I LOOK FUCKING GOOD IN MY NATURAL HAIR MEANWHILE YOU LOOK LIKE A HORSE HAS LICKED YOUR HEAD ... straightening your hair like that. Like sometimes you just need to let your hair be your wild hair. Let acne be acne, pimples be pimples, cellulite be cellulite, stretch marks be stretch marks. It’s all so natural. You don’t need ton of creams and shit to try and change your skin and hair texture. Sometimes, you just need to leave it alone for 3 months. 

I spent so many times in front of a mirror naked. Not to like flex and shit like that but to see myself, naked and to actually find all the good things on me. You know when you’re clothed, you don’t see it but when you take everything off and it’s just you and your body and it looks more symetrical. It looks so natural and so beautiful. At first you might cry and feel sad that you look like this but you’re beautiful. And you lift your head up and you say “I’m gorgeous. I’m fucking stunning. I’m a bad bitch that has a nice fucking ass.” or something like that. I used to be insecure about my breasts (bc my sister was disgusted by how big they were and she didn’t mind to remind me of that) but now I look at the mirror and my boobs are THE BOMB! The bomb man.... the bomb. I love my boobs, no matter how big and saggy they might appear. They are boobs. Also pose. Man, posing can be so fun. I remember I posed like a greek statue and I actually liked how my body looked like in that weird ass position. Just have fun with your body. Accept it for what it is. Accept everyhting on yourself for what it is and stop trying to change it. Sooner or later you will stop giving a care in the world of what others think of it. Listen to yourself. Trust your own judgement and stop listening to other people who have no clue who you are. They have no clue who you are inside, only what you let them see. 

I would genuienly write so much more but if you ever EVER need somebody to talk to, to HYPE YOU UP TO THE BAD BITCH THAT YOU ARE! It’s me. I will never judge you for anything.. especially not because I know what I had done and thought. So trust the process and don’t give up. Think positively and accept yourself. Surround yourself with loving, caring people. Don’t be afraid to speak up or be yourself. Do what you love, be yourself. 

All the love <3

[fromtheringapron]

WWE WrestleMania XXVI

Date: March 28, 2010.

Location: University of Phoenix Stadium in Glendale, Arizona. 

Attendance: 72,219.

Commentary: Michael Cole, Jerry Lawler, and Matt Striker. 

Results:

1. WWE Unified Tag Team Championship Match: ShoMiz (The Miz and Big Show) (champions) defeated R-Truth and John Morrison 

2. Triple Threat Match: Randy Orton defeated Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase Jr. 

3. Money in the Bank Ladder Match: Jack Swagger defeated Christian, Drew McIntyre, Dolph Ziggler, Evan Bourne, Kofi Kingston, Kane, Montel Vontavious Porter, Matt Hardy, and Shelton Benjamin. 

4. Triple H defeated Sheamus. 

5. Rey Mysterio defeated CM Punk (with Serena and Luke Gallows).

6. No Holds Barred Lumberjack Match: Bret Hart defeated Vince McMahon. Bruce Hart was the special guest referee.

7. WWE World Heavyweight Championship Match: Chris Jericho (champion) defeated Edge. 

8. Layla, Alicia Fox, Maryse, Michelle McCool, and Vickie Guerrero defeated Kelly Kelly, Beth Phoenix, Mickie James, Gail Kim, and Eve Torres. 

9. WWE Championship Match: John Cena defeated Batista (champion) to win the title. 

10. No Disqualification Career vs. Streak Match: The Undertaker defeated Shawn Michaels. Per stipulation, Michaels retired.

My Review

WreslteMania XXVI is a difficult show to sum up. It’s a pretty good WrestleMania, but also one that happens to be all over the place in tone and focus. Perhaps its reflective of how indeterminate the future of the WWE felt at the start of the 2010s. The roster was such a mishmash of eras that you’d be forgiven of not having a clue where the hell the company was going. John Cena, Batista, and Randy Orton were at the top of the card after their rise to superstardom in the 2000s, but the spotlight was still shared guys who rose to stardom in the ‘90s like Triple H and The Undertaker. Then there was a new generation of talent—The Miz, Sheamus, Drew McIntyre, etc. — bubbling in the undercard who seemed poised to rocket into the top at any moment. But wait! Time was also given to  . . . the 13-year-old feud between Bret Hart and Vince McMahon?!? Suffice to say, with the show splintering off in so many different directions, it’s not surprising it has some misfires.

Let’s start with the good stuff, though. The main event between Undertaker and Shawn Michaels is fantastic and I’m gonna throw it out there that I like it more than their match from the previous year. The stakes feel higher, the suspense level feels higher, and there’s more of a story here than just Shawn needing to beat Taker. He puts his entire career is on the line here, for heaven’s sake! And speaking of his career, like many at the time, I didn’t have a clue this would be Shawn’s last match. Most on-screen wrestling retirements are never legit, so there was plenty of basis to believe this one would be no different. But alas, this one was different, and we get about as good a sendoff as we could’ve gotten for someone who’s been dubbed Mr. WrestleMania.

On another show, the WWE title match between John Cena and Batista would’ve been the main event. Their match here is great fun. It’s actually an end of an era for the two men who were crowned as the leaders of the next generation at WrestleMania five years earlier. Batista would move on to Hollywood shortly after this and, while certainly not his last WWE run, it would mark the end of his career as a full-timer. Interestingly enough, Batista was really coming into his own as a heel at the time of his departure, even winning over fans who previously couldn’t stand him. He would resurrect his heel run in 2014 and 2019, again only for a short spell. A shame we haven’t been able to spend much time with arrogant heel ‘Tista and his impeccable designer fashion, but then I guess that’s what makes it so special.

As for what doesn’t work, I probably don’t need to go into much detail about the Bret/McMahon clash. The basics of the story are solid — Bret gets his long-awaited revenge on McMahon, with his family right by his side. It’s just not super fun to watch in execution, however well-meaning it may be. They match is dragged out much longer than it should and it takes the crowd completely out of it. Another misfire is the Money in the Bank match. This would be the final iteration of the match at WrestleMania before it becomes its own pay-per-view. It’s clear the concept needs some rejuvenation by this point as it’s now a lazy, bloated affair where everyone gets in their allotted number of spots and there are way too many participants. To cap it all off, the ill-advised decision is made to push Jack Swagger into the main event scene, an idea which would run out of gas in a matter of months.

The show seems to have some weird pacing issues as well. In the era of the Network, I’ve grown so accustom to Manias being stretched to the point of exhaustion, so it’s always little odd to go back and watch one that feels like it doesn’t have enough time. It’s almost like it’s struggling to figure out how spread out time across a card so stacked. The tag opener and Rey Mysterio vs. CM Punk feel like abridged versions of the matches we would’ve otherwise gotten, while Bret vs. McMahon gets more time than either combined. Even Money in the Bank feels somewhat rushed. I’m definitely not a huge fan of WrestleMania becoming a seven-hour event, and WWE has proven they struggle with time management on longer Manias, but this is one show where it seems an extra hour absolutely would’ve been to its benefit.

At its best, WrestleMania XXVI is a nice sampler plate of eras, even if struggles to give you equal portions for all of them. The multi-generational makeup of the card ensures there’s a little something for everyone and even closes the books on a couple of legendary careers. You’re bound to dislike some it but for better or worse, and this is a cheeseball thing to say, it definitely puts the “showcase” in the Showcase of the Immortals.

My Random Notes

No joke, I really did not think this would be it for HBK and even seriously thought Taker’s streak was in jeopardy. Am I a fool for thinking that? Maybe, but I like that wrestling conned into believing it in a way it hardly ever does anymore.

I feel like the temple entrance set is something that should’ve been more impressive than it is in actuality. They just stacked LED screens on top of each other and just rolled with it. It looks like something from Minecraft.

Ah, this show reinvigorates my fond feelings for Matt Striker. Such a handsome chap! Not surprising at all he would appear on a Bachelor ripoff a whole decade later.

I chuckled at Bruce Hart being the special guest referee for Bret vs. McMahon. You just know he huffed and puffed his way into that one, much to Bret’s annoyance.

I also chuckled at Diana Hart-Smith walking down to the ring with her best “evil, vindictive femme fatale on the cover of a pulp novel” look. God bless her. She needs to write another book.

I know Rey singing Happy Birthday to his daughter is meant to be a heart-warming thing but if I were a kid in the same situation, I would be traumatized. Just think of how uncomfortable it is when a room full of people is signing at you and then think of enduring that in an arena filled with thousands of people. CM Punk did her a huge favor by crashing the moment, as far as I’m concerned.

Not saying anything new here, but the whole Spear thing with Edge is cringe as hell and it’s for the best that it’s been forgotten in the annals of his career.

I know some people like to mock Vickie Guerrero doing Eddie’s frog splash, but I personally thought it was a sweet moment while staying true to comedically heel Vickie.

The official theme song to this Mania is “I Made It” by Kevin Rudolf. A time-period appropriate choice, I must say. I feel like the dawn of the 2010s is the only time a Kevin Rudolf could be a success.

I identify myself as someone who will always be more embarrassed by John Cena haters than Cena himself and I gotta say him posing next to the guys in the front row hating his guts is fucking hilarious. Cena is funny sometimes when he just straight-up trolls.

On the Legacy fallout: The storytelling for this was weird as hell. Am I the only who remembers that one time on Raw where they teased Ted turning face and the crowd was actually kinda into it? Then they completely abandoned it for whatever reason and just had Randy be the breakout face (as if he needed it) and dunk on both Cody and Ted at WrestleMania. I feel like Cody’s AEW origin story more or less began here.

Awwwwe, this show has little baby Drew McIntyre. It’s so interesting watching this with the benefit of hindsight. I remember a lot of people Not Feeling It when he was anointed as the Chose One, and truthfully I wasn’t feeling it at the time either, but watching it back really makes you appreciate how much hard work he put in to get to where he’d be a decade later. A lot of folks were dreading the inevitable Drew world title run in 2010. The title run did happen, but it was much later and much more welcome than anyone back than anyone could’ve imagined.

[perposfullybadwriting1dstyle]

HARRY IS A RIGHT IDIOT AND YOU BLEED ON THE DELICIOUS MATT

a story about clueless men:

After lunch, I felt the need to freshen myself up, especially being on my period, i was in the need for a shower. A scrumptious, delightful shower, sent to me by Angel Gabriel himself.

Harry left for work hours ago, he aggressively kissed my cheek goodbye - unaware I had stirred conscious from my aggressive sleep.

I stepped into the shower like a cautious wolf, still reacting to the cold bath that dried since my semen-filled boyfriend left for the studio. The steam eased my cramps like ice-cream in the sun, oooh wouldnt that be a lovely snack later! I could cronch on ice-cream all day, like a baby eagle cronching on its prey. My cravings start flowing in now.

Soon distracted by the elegant, handsome, jaw-droppingly jolly water and my thoughts, I hummed to myself, not noticing a new presence. By now most of the bleeding had stopped, the plughole still slightly tinged red for now.

I began shampooing my obedient hair until something touched my waist. "arghhhh jesus!!" I fiercely exlaimed while turning around to see my beautiful love, naked may I add, stood in front of my at the door of the shower.

"hey hey, s'just me love" he spoke softly and I turned down the pressure to hear him and feel his lips.

"why are you home so soon baby?"

"couldnt wait to see you"

"hmm, why really?"

"I kept getting frustrated with myself today, i cant hit these fucking harmonies and-"

"hey, give yourself a break for once. You are doing a little bit amazing and I am a little bit proud of you, I'm glad you chose to come home"

After a deafening moment, you were making out. As you feel something, other than arousal (tea tree oil), drip down your legs you turn the shower back up to wash everything away once again.

After a thoroughly enjoyable make out sesh that you managed to keep quite PG due

to your situation. Harry steps out of the shower and reaches to your obnoxiously white towel. The shift in weight as you climb out exerts a drop of glamorous blood onto the delicious white bath matt, you didnt notice until-

"ohh babe are you okay??"

"why wouldnt i be"

"you are bleeding like a young bear cub on a warm summers evening after being ripped apart by a ferocious capybara!! did i go too rough last night??!! im so sorry i never meant toiloveyousom-" (cerys ive got no clue what ur trying to say)

"harry calm down again, nothings wrong im just on my period. Thought you wouldnt care to know but I am so sorry I stained your matt with my satanic uterus"

There was silence. You start to fret,'does he think I'm disgusting? does he think im a cannibal? is he about to dump me? why does he look confused? is he okay? i am thinking to myself "whats one of those?" he asks innocently, like a child at nursery who draws something that adult minds can miss interpret.

"um, mestruation? Do you know about that"

yet another agressively puzzled pose.

Then he stated "y/n, I have never heard of those words in my whole 24 years of life"

a/n: this is set 2018 bc why not!

"oh okay" you wonder how this conversation will go" can i explain aomething to you?"

Harry looks intrigued this time."please do or this evening is going to end with a violent death and i can guarantee that it wont be me whos dead!!!”

You chuckle at his childish innocent excitement. "Around once a month, girls release one egg which is like the mum part of a possible baby, if the egg gets fertalized by a big fat daddy cock, it grows into a child, if not - because weve used protection, it summons lucifer the devil and he temporarily takes control of our womb and causes bucket loads of blood to plumet out of our fannys for about a week. We call this a period or 'time of the month' but scientifically its menstruation. I am currently on my period"

Harrys face was motionless yet so motionfull at the same time. I had no idea what he was thinking until he nodded slowly "ah, okayyy" and suddenly snapped to check "so you are not pregnant right?"

"correct" you giggled

“so my big fat daddy cock didnt release my sperm into your womb” harry questioned.

“no it did not” you reassured him.

"aha, phew, i don't need any kids yet"

You laughed along until he backtracked cutely.. "not that i don't want kids, or with you, just, now is not the time love" he explained. "baby, don't worry, I couldn't handle that either right now, meaning that you" you poked his chest aggressively “get to care for me and all my pains from being female" a smerk grew on your face while a frown spread on his," Does it hurt?"

You sighed in thought," the blood exiting doesn't but there are loads of symptoms to come with it, sorry if I'm a right old twat for the next 5 days" and you smacked him right across the cheek. You walked off to leave him with a giant throbbing purplish bruise forming on his face, causing him to send out the tweet, “

#domesticabuseisnotajokejim #niallyouignorantslut”

[suspiriu-m]

About Me

Hello! My name is Sal and welcome to my blog, Suspirium! Suspirium is a word that originates from one of my favorite movies, Luca Guadagnino’s 2019 remake of Dario Argento’s classic italian horror movie Suspiria. According to World of Dictionary, Suspirium is a Latin word meaning “Deep breath, sigh”. It’s also the title of one of my favorite songs from the soundtrack to the movie produced by Thom Yorke of Radiohead. I’m a huge horror movie buff so expect to see a lot of that sort of content on my blog if I can incorporate it into any of my work. I chose this as the title of my blog because of how well the word fits into the movie, and I just love the way it sounds. Anybody who’s watched the movie will understand, but I won’t go into detail as to not spoil it for anybody who hasn’t yet seen it.

Throughout my highschool years I technically went to two schools. My main and home school was Middletown High School, and my secondary school was Orange Ulster Boces in Florida New York. In high school I was always in media production and art classes. For example, photography, video editing, drawing & painting classes and my favorite was an Elements of Horror class I took my senior year. Horror being my favorite genre, I absolutely had to take a class that’s dove into the origins of classic horror novels, films and short stories. Leading to me finding my favorite classic horror story Dracula by Bram Stoker, and a multitude of stories by H.P. Lovecraft. Continuing on now to college i’m now majoring in Media Production while also still taking some classes in Marketing and Design! I really enjoy both a lot so it’s hard to kind of pick exactly which I want to do, but it’s nice knowing that no matter what path I finally choose I'll still have some experience in the other!

Aside from my education, I love to watch horror movies and read stories in my own free time. Movies in general are a huge hobby of mine and I watch at least 3-4 a week given I have the time. Some of my favaroties of all time concerning classics have got to be the Halloween series, The Evil Dead series and all four of the Scream movies. Other hobbies of mine that take up a huge part of my life and time are video games and music. I have a pretty big record collection that’s continuously growing with at least 80-90 albums and counting. I just recently purchased a few more to add being Sade’s Diamond Life, Whitney Houston’s Whitney and Whitney Houston albums, Lazaretto by Jack White, Texas Sun by Khruangbin & Leon Bridges and Petals for Armor by Hayley Williams. Hopefully my next additions will be What’s Your Pleasure? by Jessie Ware and The Baby by Samia. I’ve been collecting them for years, but especially now since even CD’s are starting to go out of style. I’m the kind of person who still likes to have physical copies of all my music and movies and games so having such big collection is super special to me.

In terms of video games, I try and play as wide of a variety that I can because I believe I can find something I like in any genre. Strategy, shooters, brawlers, online competitive games etc, but I think my favorite style of game is single-player, narrative driven experiences. Most recently I played The Last of Us Part II and was absolutely enthralled with it. I loved the first game so much so getting a sequel was something I was extremely grateful for. I don’t think video games get enough credit for what they do for storytelling. TLOU 1 and 2 are some of my favorite stories that I have experienced in any form of media. The heartbreak, pain, love, fear and excitement those games have succeeded in giving me while just sitting in front of my TV is something no other form of entertainment has brought me. Some of the most touching moments, but also the most excruciating. They also had a queer women front and center throughout the games which is something that isn’t very common in video games so seeing that was really nice to me. Other than The Last of Us, some other solid narrative driven games I’ve played are God of War, Uncharted 1-4, Marvel’s Spider-Man, The Tomb Raider Reboots, Ghost of Tsushima, the Batman Arkham series and Control.

Although story based games are my favorites that doesn’t mean I don’t have a place in my heart for some good old fashioned fun as well! I also really enjoy a lot of the Super Mario and Legend of Zelda games as well. My biggest pet peeve that I have with the gaming industry right now though is Fortnite. I think it’s literally the most annoying game ever created. People spend hundreds and thousands of dollars just to buy skins and weapon packs and I think it’s absolutely ridiculous. The fact that I work at a major video game retailer and constantly have kids running through my store screaming about the damn game at least once a day could also contribute to my hatred. Either way, I want no part and absolutely nothing to do with it.

Going back to queer representation though. I recently watched Pose over the summer. Not only was the show heavily based during the AIDS epidemic in New York City, almost the entirety of the main cast was comprised of Transgender Black women. On prime time television! This is the first show to ever achieve such a feat. Not only was the cast extremely talented, I thought the writing and production of the show as a whole was brilliant. It definitely has its flaws and I could point out a few of them, but I believe all of the good of the show far outweighs the bad. It’s not afraid to tackle extremely real and difficult subjects the Transgender and Black communities have faced in this country and all over the world. It’s so important to see content like this on television as well because EVERYBODY deserves representation. Not only was the cast Trans, but one of the lead writers of the series Janet Mock is also a Black Trans woman! Pose was filled with heartfelt moments that truly had me sobbing in my bed as I watched. I think I actually cried at pretty much every single episode for both seasons. The cast is brilliant, the realism and talent and star power they bring to the show is like nothing that I’ve ever seen before and I’m so glad to be able to see them up on my television. I so badly one day hope that I can be behind the scenes of producing a show of this caliber some day.

While I have yet to help in the production of a show like this, I have had my fair share of of making short films, music videos and even assisting on a friend of mine’s first full length movie that he submitted to festivals. Last year, I had the opportunity to shoot a short horror film with my classmates for our final project. The film was based around a young woman getting trapped at her school in the middle of a blizzard, and slowly beginning to realize that she may not be alone. In a fight for her life, she has to survive till morning while going up against a mysterious killer who lurks the halls of her small town college. Sadly, we didn’t have enough time to produce a full and finalized cut of the film but coming together and working with a few other classmates was still a really fun experience. Not only was I able to play the role of the killer, I aided in audio, music selection, location scouting, props department, shot planning and writing the movie and it was a great time. I also had the pleasure of helping out my friend Matt Vincini in shooting his short film The Cattle Farmer. A horror/thriller film about a boy who is adopted into a family, only to realize that his life might have been planned from the start. It featured a mysterious woodland family who may or may not have had cannibalistic tendencies that included their adopted children. It was a super cool experience to be on a set with a bunch of actors and seeing my friend in action in the role of director. Collaborating on projects like this with friends is always a fun time, even it does get stressful at some points. At one point in the film, one of the characters realizes that the dinner he is currently eating could quite possible be his last meal ever. Which kinda let me to thinking what my last meal would be. After some thinking, I think i’d definitely have to choose my families homemade pasta and meatballs. I know, pretty stereotypical for an Italian family but it’s just so good. We make our own sauce every september and it’s a huge family event. Everybody comes together and one of our houses and it’s literally a whole days worth of work. The best part? At the end of the night, we all have a huge feast and make pasta and meatballs with all of the sauce we just made. It’s one of my favorite things to do with my family and always one of my favorite meals. Not only is it delicious, but also sentimental.

This is all for now! Thanks for stopping by my blog and reading a little bit about me. I could probably keep rambling on for hours but I don’t think that’s the smartest idea. I can’t wait to fill this blog with more content this year and hope to hear from you guys as well! Until then, i’ll be watching more movies and DEFINITELY playing some more games. At this point i’ve been playing the new Marvel’s Avengers video game so, let me get back to kicking some AIM ass!

[iwritethat]

Jason Todd: Little Red Riding Hood

A/N: Another Halloween one lovelies!! 🎃

Warnings: Language, mildly suggestive themes

>>>>—————————>

Black Mask was extremely aggravating at this precise moment in time, of course the dealer always was but for Jason, now in particular, he had reached another level.

"Aw, Little Red Riding Hood is off her game." Roman taunted further.

The vigilante shot in frustration, the wistful gun smoke mirroring his anger perfectly - there was a reason for the unusual mockery but Jason hadn't figured it out yet.

"Fuck off old man, I'm not in the mood!"

A sudden whistle rebounded off of the walls, the action seemingly harmless at first glance leading Jason to reposition his twin pistols toward a cornered Black Mask once more wearing a smirk under his helmet.

Although, a low warning growl echoed in the silence drawing his attention and eliciting maniacal laughter from the master who called it - deadly crimson irises sparkling in the moonlight and silky matte black fur flowing with the oversized predators movements. An array of questions and string of curses ravaged Red's mind as it prowled around him, the play on Red Riding Hood making much more sense now faced with the Big Bad Wolf - how Roman Sionis acquired such a creature remaining unknown.

The beast displayed a healing factor, recovering from bullet wounds in record time as well as maintaining fluent speed and agility Jason could barely keep up with. Although, through cunning he was able to shoot overhead wires to send multiple heavy steel poles toppling down on the creature with a pained whine. Without waiting for the wolf to awaken, Red Hood was hunting Roman down to finally track him to his escape helicopter on the roof until holding him at gunpoint that is. However, when you stumbled through the door panting heavily and glaring at Black Mask - the villain found an alternate bargaining chip. A shrill scream escaped your lips once you felt the piercing bullet through your shoulder and caused you to lean against the doorframe holding your injury.

"You're such a dick Roman!" Venom laced your tone, practically spitting his name like the bile he was before fading into unconsciousness.

"Ah ah, now Red Riding Hood... you can kill me, or save the civilian." Black Mask held the upper hand, there is no way Red Hoods conscience would allow him to let an innocent die, you looked rough already with claw gashes decorating your clothing as well as the blood sinking down your torso. Probably a victim of that beast he'd fought earlier, leverage for some addict Roman dealt to who couldn't pay up - you were undeserving of this situation.

.

You awoke with a deep breathe, immediately sitting upright causing a brief dizzy spell. The surroundings were unfamiliar, various blankets coated your body as well as bandages encircling you waist and shoulder which were briskly removed revealing no signs of injury at all - quirks of a werewolf you suppose. However, such phenomenons would be considered suspicious by even Gotham standards and as a result you rewrapped them just in case.

At that moment a handsome young man strolled into your space, carrying clean bandages and pain killers, the sight surprising to see considering his less than emasculate association with Red Hood you supposed.

"You're up then stranger." Your only response was an acknowledging hum to which he didn't seem to mind. Although as soon a he reached for your wrapping you were quick to stand, backing away with a defensive stance.

"Don't touch me."

"Tch, you took a damn bullet! I’m gonna call the hospital." He chastised, not much care to his tone.

"No! I'm fine, the bandages are fine - thanks and I've gotta go."

"Then, I'm getting you back to wherever you came from or else Mask is just gonna hunt you down again dumbass. Luckily for you that bullet took out whatever device he planted in your shoulder." The stranger sarcastically replied, crossing his arms with an exasperated sigh.

You gently traced your shoulder, knowing he no longer had control over you anymore. "Heh, he has crap aim when he’s panicking and thanks Red but I’ll be doing the hunting.”

"The names Jason." He acted indifferent but you could hear his heartbeat increase.

"Red Hood, Jason - same thing, what would you prefer me to call you? Little Red Riding Hood perhaps?" You gave a mischievous smirk, both scents identical to your finely tuned nose. Jason looked defeated, released a bored sigh and disregarded all pretences.

"Tch. Anyway, Roman’s heading out to Santa Prisca in a few weeks so I’ve got that covered and you can be on your way.”

“Perfect, I owe him a bullet. Don’t even try to argue, I’m both resourceful and strong enough to get there on my own regardless - I also know the Santa Prisca base inside out.” You posed a valid justification, albeit still wasn’t enough for him to trust you but that meant you were on the same page.

“For fucks sake...” Any other time he would’ve left tag alongs behind but for some strange instinctive reason, he didn’t think that’d be an option with you.

.

It required teamwork, a gathering of intel and resources - some of which you acquired via intimidation, crimson irises and razor fangs were persuasive - not that you allowed your unwilling partner to bear witness to such atrocities. Although you suspected he had suspicions regarding your mysterious uncanny ability to retrieve answers yet chose to ignore it.

In time you found yourselves standing in the mist of Santa Prisca’s dense forestry under a veil of stars, you’d arrived later than expected and despite Jason’s determined nature you’d pestered him enough to let you rest until midnight. Of course at that point, you’d have additional power with the full moon revealing itself.

Unfortunately lighting a campfire left you at risk of being detected at such close proximity to their base, but it wasn’t an issue as your natural body temperature kept you warm and as a result you were curled up at the base of a tree in no time. However, your sleep was disturbed when a sudden rush of heat seeped through your body and upon opening your eyes caught a glimpse of Jason strolling away with a stretch before lying on the ground, arms tucked behind his head and gaze towed at the starry sky. Your brows furrowed, not sure as to why he’d felt the urge to drape his jacket over your sleeping form rather than keep it for himself - besides he needed it more. With a huff, you stood up and walked over to him only to throw it back on his chest.

“What the- it’s called chivalry!” Jason begrudgingly whisper yelled after jumping from the unexpected interruption.

“I can hear your teeth chattering from over there and I can’t sleep so shut up and warm up.” Was your heartless reply, smirking as your friend rolled his eyes but as you went back to your spot, it seemed his temperature hadn’t risen as much as you’d liked.

Again you returned, this time stripping your own jacket which left more of your heated skin exposed and placed it over him before lying against his side, head on his chest and arm laid on his waist - more heat radiating from your body in order to warm him up.

“(Y/n) what the hell are you doing?! I’m fine!” Jason was incredibly tense, edging away from you purely due to shock as he justified himself.

“It’s chivalry or whatever, trust me.” With your quiet but stern counter, he couldn’t deny how addicting your warmth was and despite his reservations his body was attracted to your warmth like a magnet.

Soon enough his heart rate lowered, muscles comfortably relaxing as he’d subconsciously embraced your presence and had in fact drifted off to sleep before you did much to your amusement.

Midnight rolled around, your biological clock waking you and forcing your irises to glow a deep crimson but your movements whilst you sat up stirred Jason, since you’d slipped out of his grip, who caught a glimpse of them as you’d turned away - instantly he’d pulled you back, grasping your jaw to face him only to find your natural eye colour glaring back.

“I sleep with you once and you think you can kiss me whenever you want?”

“I wasn’t gonna - your eyes were - lets just get moving.” He snapped from his thoughts, too flustered to form a coherent sentence and instantly removed himself to find his helmet muttering something under his breath.

.

Upon entering the base, you found yourselves before Black Mask, unconscious henchmen in your wake thanks to your turbulent teamwork.

"How cute, it took longer than I expected but my little lap dog brought you here anyway. Too bad Red Hood." At his words and beckoning whistle, you stepped toward him as Mask ordered...

Like countless times before, you found your body configuring to its alternative form, silky black fur cascading down your back with a deadly snarl echoing across the island landscape.

"Interesting thing with wolves Hood, they have loyalty. Now kill 'im (Y/n)!" You prowled around Roman, standing beside the man who now held the upper hand with his greatest weapon by his side.

"(Y/n)?!" Jason was unreadable, the helmet making sure of that but you could hear the betrayal in his voice, an underlying tone of hurt accompanied your name whilst he silently pleaded with you. Though your focus was no longer on him, a glare was directed at your tail that appeared to be wagging due to Jason's attention - god no.

At least you could hide a crush when not wolfing out, this was just embarrassing... before anyone could notice the uncharacteristic behaviour you chose to speak, voice an octave lower than your usual one.

"Interesting thing about loyalty Roman, it has to be earned. And the Red Hood has most definitely earned mine... you however? Not so much."

Jason lowered his guns as a scattered Roman tumbled to the floor in a failed attempt to scramble away after you savagely barked at him, a large paw on his chest to pin him in place and pearly incisors centimetres from his terrified face.

“...So do I have to get you a collar now, because, I mean... I will...” The vigilante quipped, no doubt less than decent purposes occupying his mind as you sighed in exasperation, looking up at him with a deadly gaze before walking past and ensuring to swish your oversized tail in his face as you went leaving him to a defeated crime lord.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

.

By the time you’d morphed back and returned to the balcony in a stolen soldiers jacket and spare bottoms from your supplies you found Mask hung from the roof and gagged for the authorities to collect. Jason had waited for you and started on the path back to where you’d arrived on the island in silence, supposedly neither of you knowing what to say to each now alone. However, you felt at ease considering he hadn’t left without you even if it was mildly awkward.

“So that’s why you were so warm...” His voice was calm but quiet, though his words caused you to look up at him and answer somewhat guiltily.

“Yeah.”

“And the interrogations?”

“Yeah...”

“Hm.” It was simple, Jason still processing the information whilst silence once again took over the two of you as the walk continued. His expression remaining contemplative but accepting since he’d removed his helmet.

"Your eyes are beautiful by the way, I couldn’t say that earlier since you wanted to kiss me and all.” Jason wore a kind smile now, sensing your silent self hatred he’d playfully knocked your arm in order to stir a heartier reply.

"Oh you’re hilarious, how you honour me damned prince of Gotham." And he got one.

“Great to sleep with and funny too, you're the whole package aren't you furball?" It seemed as though the snarky exchanges had returned, bringing with them a sense of reassuring normalcy again.

“You’re just upset that you woke up as the little spoon Red Riding Hood.” You rolled your eyes with a challenging smirk, winking at Jason who only returned the gesture.

“Hey, there’s nothin wrong with that - besides it’s your turn next Big Bad Wolf.”

“Bite me.”

“Just tell me where and how hard, I might surprise you wolfie.” His flirtatious comments left you flushed but hadn’t left you defenceless.

“You can shiver tonight.”

[vikireedphotography]

The Cigar Is All You See

THE CIGAR IS ALL YOU SEE

First, do no TV:  how badly do you want to make it in Hollywood, doctor?  

FADE IN:

I/E.

A HOTEL BANQUET ROOM/OUTSIDE ENTRANCE-NIGHT

An EASEL holds a foam board telling us that inside the dark room-twinkling with spores of glittery tables, is the 2021 American Board of Radiology Conference.

Photos of two men are the evening’s GUEST SPEAKERS:  GREG CRANDON, 53 and BEN HAMMIL, 52.  Crandon is a bit pale, thinning hair on top scalp, bulging but happy eyes. He is posing with TV actor MATT KISLEYAK, 54. Matt is charismatic, and wears his TV-doctor’s uniform, Crandon is ‘on-set’ with Kisleyak and posing with an arm is around the shorter Crandon.  Under the photo it reads:

“Radiology Consultant to Hollywood, Greg Crandon (with “Med Lives” star, Matt Kisleyak).  The second photo is Hammil, who looks more like a TV star than a radiologist. Tall, long reddish hair. His photo depicts the smiling Hammill standing on a Ted Talk stage pointing and smiling.  It’s captioned: “Welcome Ted Talk Keynote Speaker on AI and Radiology, Ben Hammil of Children’s Hospital of Los Angeles”  

INT. BANQUET ROOM/BEYOND THE EASEL & SIGN-SIMULTANEOUSLY

In a reverse fractal, Dr. Ben Hammil is on-stage, preaching new gospel.

BEN

Twenty-two years in radiology. I’ve missed things. You know what sees everything? Machine learning. Check this out.

Ben lifts a POWERPOINT REMOTE AND CLICKS!

A massive projection screen behind Hammil fills with what looks like a photo quilt of chipmunk faces (tight crops of just the eyes, nose and whiskered mouth).  

BEN (CONT’D)

Chipmunks. Cute. Sixteen-hundred chipmunk faces. Do you see the cat?

CUT TO:

VIP TABLE/ORCHESTRA SEAT LOCALE-CONTINUOUS SOUND OF: BEN HAMMIL’S VOICE-CONSTANTLY.

Greg in a slightly old-school tux joins his wife, ANDREA, 47.  

In trying so hard to look younger, she forgets to be young. Everyone but the WIVES in the room are fixed on Hammil’s presentation.

ANDREA

(To Greg)

Can you get Matt’s autograph for Penny?  

Andrea’s body language tightens after she notices cocaine on his nose. She grabs a napkin, wipes it. No one sees the coke.  Just her ‘mothering’ him.

Fellow attendee and table-mate LEO, 42, now distracted.

LEO

(To Greg)

You missed Hammil’s award.

GREG Oh well.

LEO

Saw his Ted Talk. I played golf with him-played near him.

GREG

It’s just a tool, this software. A computer can’t deliver bad news or hold a box of Kleenex.

Greg gestures to a passing SERVER for another round of drinks.  He pivots to PENNY, 36, pretty, blond trophy wifetwo small children later.

GREG (CONT’D) Penny? I’ll get you Matt’s autograph.  I’m going to the studio tomorrow.

Penny is electrified. She points at Ben and announces to all:

PENNY

Out of everyone tonight he’s the most interesting and ground-level.

She catches herself when she sees Greg’s reaction.

CUT TO:

EXT. HOLLYWOOD SOUNDSTAGE/PRODUCTION OFFICE FOR “MED LIVES”NEXT DAY

Greg drives his bronze BMW convertible to the GUARD-GATE. A familiar GUARD, 39, waves him through.

Moments later, Greg strides, getting tanner the closer he gets to the the SOUNDSTAGE DOOR. He glides past Matt Kisleyak’s RED FERRARRI. It’s parked next to the door. A sign designates: “Reserved for Matt Kisleyak/Med Lives.  

CUT TO:

INT.

SOUNDSTAGE FOR “MED LIVES”-CONTINUOUS

It’s a magical forest of cables, wisteria hanging lights, cameras, crew, fake hospital sets, ACTORS in costume, CRAFT

SERVICES TABLE loaded with EVERYTHING you could ever want. Willy Wonka time.

KEN (O.C.) Dr.Crandon?

KEN GOLDISH, 37, is one of the show’s Producers. Greg wheels in the direction of his voice.

CONT.

The two walk a hallway lined with POSTERS of MED LIVES’ CAST in character. Ken is ahead and faster.

GREG

(Holding a zip drive and script.)

I have the notes on the next show. Just a few minor details.

Ken turns to see Greg brandishing his work.

KEN

(Takes the thumb-drive.) Keep the script.

They stop at the last door.

What did Matt want to see me for?

KEN

(Knocks twice) He’ll tell you.

CUT TO:

INT.

MATT’S OFFICE-FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER

Greg is seated next to Matt’s desk. The blinds are closed, the only light comes from a large computer monitor.

As Matt sits and shares the glow with Greg you see an unbelievably photogenic man.

GREG

(Staring and smiling at Matt.)

This isn’t ideal. You should send the full study to my office at the hospital.

MATT

Not gonna happen. It’s a favor for a good friend. I’m looking out for him. A secret second-opinion.

Greg nods into gear with a deep breath.

CUT TO:

30 MINUTES LATER-

The star is opening the blinds. He turns around and saws his palm into Greg’s personal space.

MATT

Thanks so much for doing this.

GREG

I’m sure it’s not what you wanted to hear. Your friend definitely has stage-four lung cancer. I couldn’t tell more without labs, biopsies-

Greg stands to meet Matt’s goodbye shake.

MATT

Keep this between us?

Matt opens door. Greg pulls the rolled MED LIVES script out of his suit pocket.

GREG

I’m sorry, but a friend of my wife’s..

MATT

(Grabbing a pen.) What’s her name?

GREG

Penny. Thanks for that. I never ask, but the wife...

MATT

Got it. Hey, I’m hosting a celebrity golf tourney this weekend at Hillcrest Country Club. For Children’s Hospital. You play?

CUT TO:

INT. GREG’S HOME OFFICE, WOODLAND HILLS,CA-NEXT EVENING

A man-cave with no man. It resembles a furniture store display. The only indicator of human occupancy is a box of Just For Men hair dye. He stands before a full-length mirror wearing new golf-wear. Looks a little ‘back to school’.

PRICE TAGS are strewn at his feet.  He snips the last tag from his BELT.

CLOSE ON: BELT/SCISSORS THE TAG READS $169.00. After a snip, it flutters down onto his new shoes. It’s quiet until-

ANDREA (O.C.)

Christ. You could go as Tiger Woods for Halloween.

GREG

Not really funny. Did you want something?

ANDREA

(Sour.)

Dinner. It’s here.

(Taking a last look, then starts to undress.) Good. I’m hungry.

FADE OUT:

EXT. HILLCREST COUNTRY CLUB-FOLLOWING MORNING

The celebrity event buzzes, it feels like a Christmas tree you could live-in.

INT. HILLCREST DINING ROOM-CONTINUOUS

Cacophonous. Seen from above, Greg disappears into a crowd of

JOURNALISTS, CELEBS, TV CAMERAS, FAMILIES OF PEDIATRIC CANCER PATIENTS, BUSY STAFF, CLUB MEMBERS and people dressed like PEANUTS CARTOON CHARACTERS.

A BANNER ABOVE AN EMPTY PODIUM AT THE BACK OF THE ROOM READS:

“Children’s Hospital Of Los Angeles Annual Celebrity Golf Event 2021”

Hearing Matt from behind a potted tree he eagerly rounds the corner.

It’s Matt with Ben Hammil and a few others. Laughing. Drinking.

GREG (TO SELF) Fucking guy...

Matt turns around. Seeing Greg, he’s not unhappy but there’s no reward in seeing him. Greg bounds over, socially awkward in Ben’s presence.

MATT

(To the group.)

This is Greg Crandon. He’s the Doc who makes Dr. Morrow sound like he went to medical school. Hey, Greg, this is one of your radiologist tribal members: Ben Hammil.

GREG

Yeah, we shared a bill at a radiology convention last week. I was keynote.

BEN

It was actually fun. Like an extended Ted Talk.

ANOTHER MAN IN THE GROUP Oh, that’s where I know you from!

MATT

Greg we’re doing a Four Man Cha Cha Cha wager; the losing team coughs up forty-K for the charity. You’re in, right?

GREG

Forty? It’s in my car.

The group laughs.

GREG (CONT'D) Will you excuse me?

Greg breaks away and rushes to the MEN’S BATHROOM.

CUT TO:

INT. HILLCREST DINING ROOM-TWENTY MINUTES LATER

Most of the crowd spills onto the fairway path, outside. Greg hustles to catch-up.

CUT TO:

EXT. FAIRWAY PATH-CONTINUOUS

Greg approaches the REGISTRATION TABLE.

An ATTRACTIVE SWEDISH FEMALE CLUB STAFFER, 23, is dispensing Team Badges, which are mounted on a valet’s keyboard behind her.  The teams are named after Peanuts Characters.  Greg squints to see the SNOOPY Team, which is led by Matt.

FEMALE STAFFER (O.S.) Good morning! What’s your name?

GREG

Greg Crandon? I think I’m a Snoopy, on Matt’s team.

FEMALE STAFFER

Here you are.  You’re a LINUS!

Matt invited me personally, I’m sure I’m a Snoopy.

FEMALE STAFFER It’s a perfect day for a game, you’ll have a great time.

The Staffer dangles the Linus Team badge. Greg takes it.

As he approaches, A GOLF CART WHIRRS away: Ben Hamill is the driver, Matt’s his co-pilot.

They leave a wake in the COLLECTIVE MEDIA bush they pass.

CUT TO:

INT. GREG'S BEDROOM-2 DAYS LATER-EARLY MORNING

He’s on his back, snoring.

ANDREA (O.C.)

Get up! Get up! Matt’s dead! Greg! Wake up!

GREG

(Slowly waking.) What are you talking about?

Andrea turns on the bedroom TV.  Live local news broadcasts the scene outside of Matt Kisleyak’s home in Malibu.

CUT TO:

CLOSE ON:  POLICE TAPE, BODIES BEING ROLLED TO THE CORONER’S VAN.  

The CAPTION READS: “MATT KISLEYAK, STAR OF ‘MED LIVES’,

BELOVED HOLLYWOOD STAR, WIFE AND SON DEAD: SUSPECTED CARBON MONOXIDE POISONING...”

GREG No! What?

CUT TO:

EXT. HOLLYWOOD SOUNDSTAGE/SECURITY GUARD GATE-1 HOUR LATER

Flowers and memorials nearly block the entrance.  

GREG

I have to see Ken Goldish.

GUARD

No one on the lot today without approval. Given what’s happened I cannot do anything. Have Ken call me. Turn around and go park on the street.

Stressed, Greg scrapes his BMW on a concrete safety stanchion.

CUT TO:

INT. KEN GOLDISH’S OFFICE-15 MINUTES LATER

Ken is on the phone with Greg, while multitasking.  A MEMORIAL VIDEO is playing on the production monitor in his office. People on-set and walking by the open door weep.

KEN

(Puts Greg on

SPEAKERPHONE)

The show is obviously going to shutdown until the writers find an appropriate way through Matt’s death. Listen, we can’t have people talking to the press about what Matt did.

GREG (O.S.) What did he do?

KEN

His son, Liam’s cancer. You know, you saw his MRI.

GREG (O.S.)

He said it was a friend of his.

KEN

No. Liam collapsed at college. He’s been living at Children’s Hospital on and on for months. I don’t know if Lily chose to die but everyone was drugged and he closed the windows and messed with his central air...No more pain.

GREG (O.S.)

Can I call you when the show is back up? I think I have an angle on

AI-

KEN

Seriously not the time.  I gotta go. I’ll let you know about the memorial if you want, okay? Bye.

CUT TO:

INT. GREG'S HOME OFFICE AGAIN-ONE HOUR LATER

Greg saunters through his open office door head-down.

The sound of a GARDENER BLOWING LEAVES IN THE FRONT YARD IS A CONSTANT.

ANDREA (O.S.)

(Popped like a cork.) What did you do?

Andrea is sitting at his DESK; it’s littered with the golf clothing TAGS, the autographed script, she’s been rummaging.

GREG My desk..

ANDREA

I answered your office line.

Children’s Hospital Charity Committee something or other called to say they can’t refund your fortythousand dollar donation but they’d be happy to provide you with a tax form so you can declare it.  Were you trying to impress Matt Kisleyak?

GREG Be quiet.

She throws the price tags at his face.

She sits at his desk and lifts the office phone receiver.

ANDREA

I’m calling that charity and telling them you can’t be held responsible because you have a drug problem and I will sue them if they don’t return the forty-thousand.

She dials the Charity’s number, taking it from the tax form.

GREG

I’m warning you-

ANDREA

Now you’re a man, right?

Greg walks towards her, automatically, instinctively. She backs-up to get space between them.  

Now they’re both behind his desk.

GREG

We’re are so done.

In one freakish rage he grabs his office chair and swings it at Andrea. The wheeled feet break her jaw as she drops to the floor.

Greg tosses the chair aside blood from the wheels casts off all over the MED LIVES SCRIPT.  He stands over the whimpering disoriented Andrea and begins to stomp her into a near coma.

He continues as we FADE OUT.

CUT TO:

EXT. HOLLYWOOD-45 MINUTES LATER

Greg is walking up HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD.  Another sunny day.

Surrounded by TOURISTS, WORKERS, WALKERS, SHOPPERS, and CHARACTER ACTORS hawking for tips dressed as DEAD HOLLYWOOD. They appear to be moving on a giant treadmill.

MOMENTS LATER-

The WALK OF FAME STARS peel away under Greg’s feet until he see’s Matt Kisleyak’s STAR with a growing memorial. He looks down at the bloodied LIVES MED SCRIPT UNDER HIS ARM.

Greg enter a crosswalk against traffic.

FLASHBACK TO:

THE ABR CONFERENCE-BEN HAMMIL’S SPEECH ABOUT PERCEPTION.

SEE: IMAGE OF THE BRICK WALL WITH A CIGAR PINCHED IN-BETWEEN TWO-BRICKS.

BEN

At the top we see a garden variety red brick. All of it’s -

RETURN TO PRESENT-HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD HEARING HAMILL’S VOICE.

BEN (V.O.)

-flaws, pores, grit and different colors up close. So many facets and defects.  Below that image we see a brick wall.  However once I tell you that there’s a cigar stuck in that wall? That’s pretty much all you see now. Humans make a choice, AI just sees everything...

CLOSE ON:  TRAFFIC LIGHT ‘DON’T WALK’ SIGNAL.

Greg quickly turns around and RUNS into traffic.

SOUND OF:  SCREECHING TIRES. A SICK BANG AND CRACKING THUD. CARS REAR-ENDING. HORNS.

CUT TO:

CLOSE ON:  THE AUTOGRAPHED ‘MED LIVES’ SCRIPT. BLOODIER, ON THE SIDEWALK.  

A MAN, 29, GRABS IT AMIDST THE CHAOS BEHIND HIM.

MAN

(Into his cel phone.) Bae?  I have some good news and better news.  You know how Matt Kisleyak croaked today? I’m the proud owner of an script autographed by him. YES. The better news is it’s covered in blood.

FADE OUT.

[michelles-garden-of-evil]

Episode 24 Review: Top 5 Reasons Why the Holly Portrait Subplot Doesn’t Work

Welcome back to Maljardin, where the melodramatic master Jean Paul Desmond is God and the Devil is a snarky talking portrait.

Speaking of portraits, today we will be looking at the subplot about Tim’s portrait of “Erica” (or, rather, of Holly) and the main things that are wrong with it. This subplot is, in my opinion, the worst in the Maljardin arc and I’ve been holding off on writing a detailed explanation of why I feel that way until my review of this episode, which mostly centers around the damned Holly portrait.

The portrait, circa Episode 18. There aren’t any good shots of it from Episode 24, so I had to settle for this one.

To recap: After the death of Erica Desmond, her husband Jean Paul hired Tim Stanton, a young artist in debt to the mob, to paint a portrait of her. Erica being both dead and encased in a cryonics capsule which both Jean Paul and THE DEVIL JACQUES ELOI DES MONDES refuse to open, Tim must instead use young heiress Holly Marshall as his model until Erica comes back to life as Jacques promised that she would.

Sound like a reasonable plan? No? I didn’t think so, either, and now I shall explain why. Here are the top five reasons why I think this subplot is stupid:

#5: Holly neither looks like Erica, nor knows what Erica looked like.

This screencap is actually from Episode 13, but I’m including it because it’s relevant.

I sometimes wonder if this criticism is unfair, because the only viewers up to this point in the show’s broadcast history who would have seen Erica were the viewers of Episodes 1, 2 (where Tim shows Alison his sketch of her), and 4. In the first scene of Episode 4, the Cryonics Society froze her corpse in the cryonics capsule, meaning that anyone who started watching after that scene would not have seen her face before Tim got his assignment from Jean Paul. Even so, neither Erica resembled Holly, which makes it absurd for her to sit for it. Why not have Alison pose instead when she’s not working? After all, they are sisters and they share a strong family resemblance according to the original pilot script. Holly barely resembles either Erica beyond being pretty.

Tim’s sketch of Erica from Episode 2, with a screencap of Alison from Episode 17 for comparison. With its upturned nose and full lips, the sketch is clearly intended to resemble Dawn Greenhalgh (Alison) and not Sylvia Feigel (Holly).

Because Holly hardly looks a thing like her, Tim complains in Episode 13 that he “can’t use her for anything but position and play of light.” In spite of this, later episodes including Episode 24 show that he has painted a sort of semi-abstraction of Holly’s face, with features about halfway between those of Holly and those of Erica. This means that he’s only making more work for himself for when Jacques brings Erica back to life--if he brings her back to life--because he will need to paint over the semi-abstraction with Erica’s face. In short, he’s wasting his time.

Besides, it’s unclear why Holly doesn’t know what Erica looked like if Erica was a very famous actress and she and her husband were stalked by the paparazzi until they escaped to Maljardin (as previous episodes have indicated). Surely she would have seen a photo of Erica in the newspaper at some point, or her face on the poster for one of her plays, or something. I realize that’s not the same as seeing someone in real life, but it’s just odd that she doesn’t know.

  #4: Tim doesn’t have even a photo of Erica with him and so has to rely mostly on memory.

He even says so in Episode 13: “I have to depend on my memory of your wife and that sketch I made of her at the café,” he tells Jean Paul (or, rather, Jacques while he is possessing him). As we saw in that episode, opening the cryonics capsule and posing Erica’s thawed-out corpse for Tim is too devilish even for Jacques, so the starving artist is left with a dilemma. Jean Paul, being a fancy rich guy of noble descent, naturally assumes that any criticisms of his assignment is just a case of beggars trying to be choosers and ignores them; in his mind, he did him a favor by paying his debts and taking him to his island, so Tim should obey his every whim without question. But the truth is that Jean Paul has no understanding of how artists work, nor why Tim needs the real Erica to complete the painting, and he may not even understand the creative process behind painting a portrait.

This could make for interesting social commentary if the writers had had Tim take a good hard look at the situation and realize that Jean Paul is not just imprisoning him on the island but flat-out exploiting him. They could have made his subplot about class conflict, the establishment’s lack of empathy towards creative types, or both. However, they choose not to use the subplot for such commentary, instead going in a much more conventional direction.

#3: The Holly portrait is mostly used to drive a clichéd romantic subplot.

Two people meet and hate each other at first sight--or at least pretend to--although they are clearly attracted to each other. They argue, bicker, treat each other indifferently at best and abuse each other at worst, until one day they realize that they have fallen in love. When was the first time you read or saw this story? Do you even remember the first time? Most likely you don’t, because the exact same plot has been used and reused so many times since Shakespeare’s Much Ado about Nothing premiered that Western media is saturated with it. It’s not a bad plot in and of itself, but it’s been overused so much that you can usually see it coming from a mile away. When Tim and Holly first bickered over her being too young to order booze, I predicted that they were setting up a romance between them. There are many signs: Tim confesses to Vangie that he feels sorry for Holly, Elizabeth suspects that he’s hitting on her, and, while she claims to dislike them both, Holly seems slightly less irritated by Tim than by her former captor, Matt Dawson. Ian Martin was clearly setting up a romance between the heiress and the artist, who are gradually bickering less and less: a telling sign that they are getting closer to falling in love.

As creepy as it is and as much as I don’t want them to get together, I actually find the Matt/Holly subplot more interesting to watch than Tim/Holly. Danny Horn of Dark Shadows Every Day may have written about how “groovy priest attracted to the beautiful young girl that he wants to take care of” is an old soap cliché, but I’ve seen it done far less often, which I suspect has something to do with all the church scandals in the past twenty years. The Belligerent Sexual Tension plot, on the other hand, is still very popular, so it feels less fresh to me than Matt and Holly’s subplot. (That doesn’t mean that I don’t still think he should leave her alone. Personally, I ship Reverend Dawson with his right hand and I think they ought to stay together.)

#2: The use of the Holly portrait on the show doesn’t connect to the show’s use of portraits for symbolism.

This one is really nitpicky and based mostly on my personal interpretation, but bear with me. Although far more complex than the Dark Shadows ripoff that many critics reduce it to, Strange Paradise nevertheless relied on many of the same tropes and themes, including the way its writers used portraits. On Dark Shadows, the writers often used a trope that Cousin Barnabas of the Collinsport Historical Society blog calls the “Portrait as Id,” meaning the use of paintings to symbolize and illustrate the truth about whatever character they represented. We see this in Strange Paradise as well with the portrait of Jacques, who tells Jean Paul that he is “the man you are, the man you might have been,” implying that the ostensibly good Jean Paul is not so different from his evil ancestor. Later on after Robert Costello becomes producer and the show becomes more like Dark Shadows, we’ll meet another character whose portrait does not turn out as intended because of the evil in said character’s heart, which also connects to this idea of portraits reflecting hidden reality. Although the conjure doll also resembles and represents Jacques, he does not generally use it to communicate with Jean Paul the way he does with the portrait. This makes sense, given that the doll and silver pin ended his life, while the portrait was painted at some point while he was alive.

In contrast to the portraits mentioned above, Holly’s portrait does not convey any additional information about either her or Erica. Because it represents the late Mrs. Desmond in name only, the Holly portrait says nothing about Erica’s id, her personality, or the state of her soul. It doesn’t even say very much about Holly. Instead, it’s mostly just used as an excuse to force Holly and Tim to interact with each other and bicker until they can finally admit that they’re in love.

#1: It goes (almost) nowhere.

And when it does finally go somewhere, it’s only relevant for a few episodes before it’s forgotten about. Holly’s participation in the portrait sittings soon becomes completely irrelevant, much like so many of the show’s early subplots which Late Maljardin’s headwriter Cornelius Crane chose to ignore. I suspect that the Holly portrait would have eventually became more significant in the main plot had Martin not been fired around Week 9. We may never know how it would have become so, nor how significant it would have become in his original outline. Who knows? Perhaps Martin would have crafted a shocking plot twist involving Holly that justified its existence. Perhaps he would have connected the portrait and its eventual fate somehow to the nightmare she had about Tarasca, having it reveal some terrifying truth about Maljardin’s past. At the very least, he might have used it to cement the romance between Tim and Holly. But instead the subplot ends with little payoff.

Tim on his subplot.

Still, despite the focus on the Holly portrait, this episode isn’t entirely a waste. Raxl saves it with her pleas to the Serpent and her attempt to contact the Conjure Woman, in all her scenery-chewing, melodramatic glory. There’s also a scene where Holly pressures her to read the two Tarot cards--the King of Swords (whom Matt identifies as Jean Paul) and the Queen of Cups (whom he interprets as Holly)--that she dropped on the floor earlier in the scene “just for kicks,” and she refuses, shouting “No!” repeatedly. If you love Raxl like I do, you’ll enjoy her scenes. They’re not Best of Raxl material, but they’re fun.

So long until my next review, which will cover Episode 25, followed by Week 5′s long overdue Bad Subtitle Special. I know that this is a change of pace from my usual recap-style reviews, but I really wanted to go into more detail about why I don’t like Tim’s subplot. I hope you enjoyed this post and I’ll see you again soon.

Coming up next: Elizabeth continues her attempted seduction of Jean Paul as we explore inter-generational conflict on Maljardin.

{ <- Previous: Episode 23   ||   Next: Episode 25 -> }

[gettingtoknowmj]

A WARNING TO MICHAEL JACKSON FANS - MATT FIDDLES IS A PRESS RAT AND WAS NEVER MICHAEL'S BODYGUARD

Because of my Michael Jackson page I have been afforded communication with a man formally on Michael Jackson's security team. We have talked a number of times after something on my page made him contact me. I have all proof I need that he is the real deal. He has said I can post this message, encouraged it.

Now unlike some bodyguards that hung around MJ in his last years and have made money out of their association. This guy hasn't and doesn't plan to; he doesn't even really want his face and name known but he knew Micheal for a good number of years (but not after 2004). He loved the man he called complicated, sometimes frustrating but a true good heart. He does not claim the status of friendship but keen observer of his boss, who was mostly very kind to him. He saw Michael at the best and at his worst, and felt for him. And Michael Jackson was more vulnerable than I personally imagined.

And one thing he has definitely confirmed to me is not to trust Matt Fiddles (pictured). The man popping up all over the media claiming to have been Michael's bodyguard for ten years, he is a fake and a fraud. He did not guard Michael Jackson for more than a few days back in 2002. He was an associate of Uri Geller's not Michael's bodyguard! Michael agreed to help Geller on a project. When Michael came to England this Matt Fiddles agreed free of charge for Uri Geller to pose as a bodyguard for Michael Jackson.

The things Fiddles has been saying in the press of late on the face of it seem harmless, perhaps beneficial. Yes, he is coming across as a defender of Michael Jackson's honour. He could fool anyone, including me... he did! But this guy has said nasty stuff in the past. He has a dark history of slandering Michael Jackson. That older fans are choosing not to knowledge and newer fans don't know about...

This past week since getting the alert about Matt Fiddles I and a Facebook friend of mine have attempted to warn fans on various Michael Jackson groups only to have pending posts deleted before they can be seen! It seems some group owners are keen on Matt Fiddles.

Yes, I know some of you are probably thinking "but Matt Fiddles is defending Michael Jackson. He even took apart in Chase The Truth documentary where he debunked stuff to do with Neverland... I want to believe him, it makes me feel more assured of Michael's innocence. Matt Fiddles has even said how Michael was very interested in women, and sneaked women into his hotel room! I want that to be true". I hate to break it to you, I am sorry to say but Matt Fiddles never worked at Neverland nor was he a member of his tour security.

None of Michael's real bodyguards, including the lovely man on security I have talked to remember him at all. In fact, no sneaking in of any women happened on his watch. He just saw families touring with Michael with their kids. Some of them did share and sleep in same huge hotel room at times but so did a member of security (before anybody jumps to unpleasant conclusions). If he had secret girlfriends who knows maybe he did but Matt Fiddles was not there to know. Because nobody remembers him!

Michael's makeup artist Karen Faye doesn't remember Fiddles either, don't believe me? Ask her. She is easy to contact.

Michael's friend from child to man Frank Cascio has never heard of Matt Fiddles either.

The late Frank DiLeo was asked in 2009 about Matt... and you guessed it... never heard of him.

Michael's mother has also publicly outted Matt Fiddles as a fake in the past too. Yes, Katherine Jackson, Michael's own mother: “‘Fiddes tried to pretend that he was a close friend of my son Michael, but when I spoke to Michael about him, he could not remember who he was. The whole family was deeply upset by the interviews he gave shortly after Michael’s death, which no friend would have done.’

Trust me, if Matt Fiddles was a character witness he wouldn't be called in a legal case for Michael Jackson's defence.

MATT FIDDLES LIES YOU PROBABLY WERE NOT AWARE HE CREATED IN THE PRESS

NO NOSE LIE: Matt caused some of the crazy rumours that Michael Jackson had a fake nose for years and at time of death that fell off. When anyone that has read Michael's autopsy report (not a happy task, I don't recommend it) and can see from the photos (again really upsetting, not recommend...), his nose was actually fine at time of death...

It is true that he had a number of reconstructive procedures on his nose mostly due to complications caused by lupus (and even according to security man I am in communication with, did have a hole in tip at one time caused by that!) but he did not have a full on fake nose! EVER! And as I say, issues with his nose were fixed. No fake nose.

SKIN BLEACHING AND SELF RACE HATE: Matt Fiddles claimed Michael hated his skin colour so much he almost BURNED off his willy with bleaching creams. Autopsy report, Michael had a NORMAL uncircumcised penis (I feel bad for knowing these kind of details... truly no privacy but in good cause, sorry Michael!). Certainly not brunt off by skin bleaching creams. Autopsy also showed Michael was a longtime sufferer of vitiligo. Not race hate.

NAZI SYMPATHISER: Matt Fiddles has stated that Michael Jackson was obsessed with Nazis, had admired Hitler and hated Jews. Funny that Micheal should choose a woman of Jewish faith Debbie Rowe as surrogate mother in order that he could experience becoming a father, even to please his mother's religious beliefs married Debbie so the children could be born of wedlock (something very important to Witnesses). And Michael was at one time firm friends with a Rabbi and was best man at a Jewish wedding! He even donned a skull cap for it. And Michael lovingly recounted stories of dear Rose Fine, the Jewish tutor he’d had as a child whom he credited as giving him a lifelong passion for reading.

On a related note: Matt said Michael POKED holes in a voodoo doll he made of Steven Spielberg after the singer became a Nazi sympathiser, err? Yeah... imaginative.

MICHAEL ASKED BODYGUARDS TO SHOOT RANDY: Michael Jackson ordered his bodyguards to kill his brother Randy Jackson when Randy was in a dispute with Michael. This was supposed to have been said in front of Randy. A story his real bodyguards at the time say is laughable and Randy even released a statement that it never happened.

SPERM STEALING: Matt Fiddles has claimed Michael stole his sperm to father Blanket. On 17th November 2010 Matt Fiddes sold a story claiming that in 2 months (January 2011) he will be flying out to California to take a DNA test to establish that he is the father. He never did.

"He won't go to L.A., he has no intention!" Fiddes ex-girlfriend Carly Galliford said via Twitter. "He loves the attention, not caring about the Jacksons." Galliford (who claims she was with Fiddes when he came up with the baby-daddy tale) said that Fiddes admitted to lying about being Blanket’s father to her face, years ago.

In the interest of being fair and balanced it should be noted. There are many sources that claim Michael didn't father any of his children, some more credible than others (let's not go there, his private business... wouldn't change the fact he was dad). IF Michael didn't, you can be reasonably sure Matt Fiddles didn't either. Matt Fiddes was in Michael’s life for all of 5 minutes. He wasn’t Michael's close friend, he certainly wasn’t a confidant. It's highly unlikely that Michael chose Fiddles as a donor.

KILL MYSELF WITH SAME PILLS AS MICHAEL KILLED HIMSELF WITH: On 3rd December 2010 a story appears in the Sun claiming that the stress of putting himself forward as Blanket's father caused him to take an overdose of the same drugs Michael died from and that they were found in Michael’s body. Touching story, except Michael Jackson did not die from Soma tablets, none were found in his body or in his possession, and none has ever been associated with him. The most amusing aspect of this story is that he claims he was prescribed 5 of these tablets by a Michael Jackson doctor in 2002 and he’d stored them 8 years before finally using them. Soma aka Carisoprodol has a shelf life of 2 years, so I’d be curious as to what effects a drug that had expired 6 years before could do to a person, but maybe Matt could share that with us sometime.

HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT LIE: Matt said Michael FLEW into a rage when he was barred from buying the Speaker’s chair from the House of Commons to use as his “green throne”. To quote him: "He toured Parliament in 2002 and when the guide told him he could not buy this piece of British culture Michael exclaimed, ‘I am the King, the King of Pop’, before flying into a real rage.”

Funny that, the officials that gave Micheal the tour said he was lovely, funny and charming... making a joke how he'd like a chair like that. He didn't in anyway suggest actually buying the thing let alone fly into a rage, he was even invited to go for a chat with a mp afterwards. The main tour guide said Michael loved England and was genuinely in awe of the building and history. There is footage on one of the pay for press video footage sites documenting from moment Michael starts his guided tour to moment he leaves. I will see if I can recall which site and update with link. Proof this ranting at the guide event never took place. Only thing that is true is Matt Fiddles was there.

There is actually more but you get the picture... this is just some of the crazy stuff Matt Fiddles has said, all soon after Michael Jackson died of course, so he couldn't be sued. There’s no proof he even went to visit Michael at a perminant residance. There’s no proof he even went to Neverland.

Michael Jackson is nothing more than a lucrative business for Matt Fiddles, and he is now selling his “positive” stories to papers for cash and celebrity. Nothing more nothing less. Because being positive about Michael actually is selling better for him right now as not many people are brave enough to defend Michael.... a book will come next... as you can be sure he is trying to build up a base of MJ fans to sell it too! When/if his book comes out, you will know to take what he say's with a very large pinch of salt.

---

Note: Please don't ask or pm me requesting information on the security staff member I have been in communication with. Our conversations are to remain private. Do not press me to ask him questions he has said what he has had to say, what he wanted to share and won't share no more... I may for all I know never hear from him again, if I don't that is fine, I am touched and grateful for the tip bits of information he gave me and for the warning about Matt Fiddles. I will not give his contact details to anybody. Nor repeat anything he has told me without his utter consent. Other than what has already been ok'd.