#also I’m incredibly dehydrated and I’ve been aware the whole time that I wasn’t drinking enough water

[betterhomesandhozie]

in a hell of my own creation lol

[the-recusants-sigil]

Back again with Part 3- going in numerical order, that would be Vexen!!

I’m having a lot of fun with this prompt. Hope you like <3

Vexen

Words: 1939

-The first thing Vexen became aware of was the sensation of waves generally lapping at him. He could hear the faint roar of the ocean, feel the soft sand give way beneath him. The water was cool, pleasantly cool, a welcome relief from that suffocating trenchcoat, now soaked and filled with kelp.

-He felt the afternoon sun beating down on him, and at once he became acutely aware of the situation: this wasn't Agrabah. Agrabah didn't have an ocean. He was barely conscious, lying spread-eagle on a beach in all black; wherever he was, there was simply no way he didn't stick out like a sore thumb. The man tried to get to his feet, but faltered as soon as he placed some weight on his ankle. It was broken, no doubt, and he felt the pain shoot through his body, up his spine and into his shoulders. So he couldn't move, but he could at least look around and try to gain his bearings.

-This world was far different from any other that he'd been to. Vexen could make out small white dots moving incredibly fast off in the distance. Boats, perhaps? Further down the beach, he could see a couple strolling along with a fluffy dog in tow. Behind him, he heard footsteps on what he supposed was a boardwalk.

-”Hey there!” Vexen bristled; rule number one was to never be seen while out on a mission, and he had just failed miserably. Not that he could have done much with a broken ankle, he supposed, but this was still bad. “Do you need some help, sir?”

-”Er- no, no! I'm fine. Thank you, really, but I am quite alright, I-”

-”Okay,” the voice continued, “but you should really try to move. You've been there for a while, and the tide is about to come in. So if you don't want to drown...”

-”You know, actually,” he cut the good Samaritan off quickly, “I think I've broken my ankle. Perhaps I could use some assistance after all... if you are willing?”

-The man was tall- very tall- but you had no trouble helping him off the ground once you had a good hold on him. His long, blonde hair was tangled, green eyes weary, but he wouldn't allow himself to lean too heavily on you despite the obvious pain he was in. You carefully guided him up onto the boardwalk, steadying him when his legs wobbled, then across the street to the cafe your parents owned. It was a small place, normally bustling during “beach season”, but it was getting late in the afternoon, and most seemed to opt for ice cream instead. You deposited him at a booth and ran into the kitchen to grab him some water. In all likelihood, he was dehydrated.

-Vexen took the ice water from you gratefully, and when you sat down across from him, he didn't protest. After a few minutes of silence, he finally asked, “Why did you stop to help me?”

-This question gave you pause. “If somebody drowned right across from our shop, it might negatively impact business?” You shrugged weakly; it hadn't been entirely untrue, but you also didn't really know why you stopped. Call it a random act of kindness.

-”Sound logic,” the man sighed, finishing the water in his glass. “Well, thank you, kind stranger.”

-You smiled. “Please, call me Y/N. Now... do you need to see a doctor, sir?”

-”Nonononono. NO doctors,” he practically screeched before collecting himself. That was the last thing he needed, and the Superior would surely have his head. “Just... oh, goodness that hurts- just something to immobilize it and an ice pack, please, Y/N. And... my name is Vexen. Apologies for not introducing myself sooner.”

-Behind the cafe's storefront, through the kitchen, was the master's suite where your family lived. It was small, with a cramped living room, two tiny bathrooms, and two bedrooms: one for you and one for your parents. Luckily for Vexen, there wasn't much walking to be done to get to anything in the house. He made himself at home in your room, studying the contents of the bookshelves that lined the walls. There were some children's books mixed in with more advanced novels, and a few textbooks from your time at university.

-”Have you lived here your whole life?” he asked, trying as hard as he could to be pleasant. He wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of here and get back to the Castle before Saix demanded his head on a pike, but for now, it was wise to play nice.

-”Perceptive,” you replied with a nod. “Yep- Born and raised here. Went to college ten minutes away, but came back home after because my parents are getting older and need some help running the place. I wanted to be a marine biologist, but...” Vexen thought of little Ienzo, then, always his little helper, and he felt his chest tighten.

-“But maybe that can happen later. I still have big dreams,” you finished quietly.

-”Ah. So you studied Biology,” he mused, “it is always nice to make the acquaintance of a fellow academic. So, in this area...”

-The two of you went on and on for hours about the local wildlife, your misadventures in education, the swarm of idiots that seemed to flock to the Jersey shore in the summer. You reminisced about the semester you'd been a Teacher's Assistant giving lectures and grading assignments, and you remembered the one student in the last section of the day that wrote every assignment in crayon. Vexen assured you, with a quiet chuckle, that he had a colleague exactly like that.

-Just past midnight, you finally passed out, and Vexen took it as a prime opportunity to down the last potion he had left. The throbbing pain in his ankles subsided within the minute, and much to his relief, he found that he could once again put weight on it. If you asked in the morning, he'd tell you he just sprained it.

-Yet, there was a part of him, deep down, that wanted to tell you the truth. After all, you had helped him. Even after knowing you for such a short amount of time, he couldn't deny that he felt some kind of a connection with you. You could keep up with him in conversation, unlike the troglodytes he called colleagues, and you were interested in what he had to say. Without going into too much detail, he told you a bit about the work he did before... before the Organization. You'd shown genuine interest, and if he had a heart, it would have fluttered.

-Vexen, no. Think of the mission. You have to go back, he thought to himself. But... maybe one more day here couldn't hurt.

-So when he awoke the next morning and strode into the living room to find your family gathered there, his blood practically turned to ice in his veins. Your parents sat on the couch, eyeing the strange man warily; your father reached for something behind the couch and Vexen panicked inwardly.

-”Mom, Dad, he's fine,” you called from the kitchen, and they relaxed somewhat. He nodded awkwardly and made his way into the kitchen, nearly hitting his head on the doorframe as he entered.

-Vexen was surprised to see you waiting with breakfast ready. He gratefully accepted the food, the two of you discussed plans for the day. You inquired about his ankle, and he fed you the pre-rehearsed line; when you didn't push the issue, he sighed in relief. You wanted to make sure he was alright with a bit of a walk; a tour of the town would be the perfect thing to do, since he didn't know where he was or how he got here, and it might help him regain his bearings.

-Vexen, on the other hand, was thankful for a much-needed vacation day with someone whose company he actually enjoyed.

-Wait, did he just think that?

-Vexen strolled along the boardwalk with you, enjoying the breeze in his hair. He made sure to take smaller steps than normal so that you could keep up without jogging after him. He breathed in the scent of brine, watched the gulls drift lazily through the sky, and smiled, ever so slightly.  Even the crowd seemed not to bother him- normally, a boardwalk bustling with rowdy beachgoers, dogs, and children would have been far too much for him, but for today, the presence of others was inconsequential.

-You pointed out various historical landmarks as you walked: an old inn that had been running for two hundred years, the original lighthouse that had fallen out of use in favor of a newer one that wasn't crumbling, the childhood home of an influential musician and, of course, the university you went to. He took it all in, but more and more, he found himself noting the smallest details about you.

-There were the little things, like the way your nose crinkled when you laughed or the way you stubbornly sipped at your coffee even though you knew it was too hot to drink. The breeze in your hair, the way you said his name, the quiet remarks you made about passersby that only he would pick up on...

-He came back down to earth when you took his hand and led him into an antique shop. The oldest one for a hundred miles, you told him, and his focus shifted to the densely packed display booths. Nearly all of them were chock full of furniture and various artifacts of eras long gone, like soldiers' uniforrms, milk cans, and record players. His eyes landed on a tall bookshelf packed with all sorts of volumes, and he immediately reached for a tattered hardback with yellow pages. The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe.

-Zexion will love this, he thought.

-That book was the only purchase the two of you made, and by the time you decided to leave, the sun had already begun to set. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but Vexen had to tell you goodbye sooner or later.

-”Y/N, thank you for spending such a lovely day with me,” he began slowly. You knew exactly where this was going. “But I really must get back to-”

-Vexen's face went bright red as your lips collided with his, stopping him mid-sentence. It was a quick kiss, but in that moment, he wished he could have stopped time and made it last longer. You pulled away quickly, face flushed, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously. “I- I'm sorry. You have to go back to work. I know. Well... Don't forget about me, okay? Come visit again sometime. Maybe without a sprained ankle, though.”

Still beet red, he stammered and scrambled for some kind of dignified response. “Uh, I- Well, yes. Yes, I will be back to visit. I promise you. Cafe at the Shore. I would not dare forget.” he turned to leave, but stopped abruptly. “...Thank you, Y/N. Really. I will see you again, sooner rather than later.”

-He turned away and walked further down the boardwalk, ears still visibly red from the encounter. As you watched him leave, you couldn't help but feel a little sad. He would be back, though. You knew it.

-It took Vexen a few minutes, but he eventually found a narrow alley he could duck into and open a corridor back home. He'd likely be in deep shit for failing so miserably in Agrabah, but after today, he wasn't sure he minded all that much.

[foxyotomelady]

Another love, Chapter XI (JuminxReader)

Author’s notes:

Be aware of: strong language, angst, violence. Yes, this is another rather dark chapter.

Grab some handkerchiefs and be ready for:

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V | Chapter VI | Chapter VII | Chapter VIII | Chapter IX | Chapter X | Chapter XI (You are here) | Chapter XII | Chapter XIII | Chapter XIV | Buy Me A Ko-Fi Have a nice reading!

Zen's POV 

Several days have passed since the Y/N's abduction. Everyone was losing their minds, her parents also knew what had happened, the police and security guards were looking for her days and nights. There was no trace of Yuwoon either.

It was early morning when Zen and Jumin were searching around the city. There were no bodyguards with them because Jumin insisted that they should separate in small groups to increase their effectiveness.

Zen was angry at himself that he didn't immediately recognize the woman in his dream - but when she appeared in it, he saw her for the first time. He found out who she is just after all that kidnapping. 

Zen didn't think it would ever happen - but he was worried about that jerk. The guy looked bad, he was pale, he had circles under his eyes, and well... he smelled like alcohol.

They were checking every suspicious alley, asking people... everything for nothing. Finally, as they walked through one of the narrow alleys, Jumin stumbled and would have fallen if Zen had not caught his arm in time, "Dude, be careful!"  Jumin jerked away from his hand and adjusted his shirt, which was still in disarray, "I'm fine." "You're not fine! Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?" "Even in this situation, all you can think about is a good look." "Not what I meant!" Zen got mad. "When was the last time you slept?" "Sleep? How could I sleep in such a situation? You’re illogical as usual." "And you're a jerk as usual! Don't you understand that you don't help her that way? You have to get yourself together if you want to help find her!" Jumin leaned his back against the wall and slowly slid down to sit below it on the ground. He buried his face in his hands. Zen didn't know what to do. He saw this guy in such a state for the first time in his life. "Zen... What if we won't find her?" "Don't even think so! We'll find her! Safe and sound!" "I just can't... I keep thinking of what this bastard could have done to her so far. I'm losing my mind..." Zen felt his throat clench, "We're all worried about her-" "You won't understand this," Jumin interrupted. "I've already lost V, if I lose her now... I will be completely alone." "Dude! What is this absurdity? You must be forgetting something! You have us! The RFA!" Zen couldn't believe he really said those words. To this jerk! But he couldn't look at his depression anymore.

Jumin rubbed his eyelids and sighed, "God... That it came to that I must hear such words from you." "Believe me, I didn't feel like telling them at all," Zen explained angrily. "But you have to get a grip on yourself, dude!" "It's not like I don't appreciate your friendship," Jumin began, rising slowly, propping up from the wall. "But no one can replace her…"

"Of course-"  "I made so many mistakes with her... I won't forgive myself if I don't have the opportunity to fix them."  Did Jumin Han just admit his mistake? In front of him?! It was that moment when Zen understood: this jerk really loved Y/N. In a twisted way, but still...  "We will find her, man..." Suddenly Jumin's cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket so hurriedly and in such panic that he almost dropped it to the ground, "Speak. What? Where?! Send me the exact location immediately. And send coordinates to Assistant Kang. She will know what to do with it next." Zen felt his heart beating hard, "What? Why? What did you find out?!"  "Saeran got the bastard's IP and discovered where he was constantly going."  "What?! Where?!"  "He'll send me- I have it! We'll go there! I'll call Driver Kim along the way."  "Wait! Shouldn't we notify the police?!"  "Jaehee will take care of it. There is no time!"

YOUR POV 

You didn't know how many days had passed. It was almost constantly dark in the building. You were thirsty and hungry. Yuwoon occasionally fed you and gave you something to drink, but it wasn't much. At first, he tended to untie your hands, and you tried to use these moments to somehow oppose him and run away - it always ended in him beating you brutally until you gave up. Then he even stopped untying your hands, you ate and drank from bowls like an animal. When you needed to take care of your physiological needs, he just sat you on a bucket and waited. You had to do it in his presence - which you failed at first - you couldn't force your body to do it. As a result of this, you got wet in your pants a few times when Yuwoon left and took the bucket with him. At first, you felt very humiliated. But after a few days, you didn't care. You were just terribly tired, your body was weak and in bruises.

It was morning when Yuwoon came to you again. He smiled at you in greeting, "How is my princess today? What is that indifferent expression on your face? You should be happy to see me! I brought you something to eat." 

He came to you. This time he reached his hand to you, he kept dry bread in it and put it under your mouth, "Come on, eat it obediently from my hand." 

You were too hungry to refuse. Yuwoon laughed as you chewed bite after bite.

While you were eating like that, you noticed a figure at the entrance. After a while, you realized that it was Yoon. He put a finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet. You didn't have the strength to react anyway.

Yoon approached Yuwoon silently and suddenly grabbed him by the neck from behind. Yuwoon groaned and cursed. The men wrestled with each other for a while but finally, Yoon hit your kidnapper in the back of the head and he fell to the ground. Unconscious? Dead? You didn't care.

Yoon came up to you quickly, you saw worry and fear on his face, "It's all right, Miss Y/N! It's all right..." The poor man almost cried over you as he untied the ropes from your arms and legs, "Miss Y/N, say something please! Where does it hurt? What did that bastard do to you?"

You didn't feel like answering. You just looked at him. Your wrists and ankles were bloody, blue and mercilessly burning you.

"The coordinates of this place have already been handed over to the police and everyone else, they should be here soon," He continued, looking at your wounds and bruises. "God, it's a miracle I was around!"

"Yoon..." You managed to make a weak voice. A thought suddenly crept into your numb mind. You didn't feel like it was absurd at the moment, "Jumin doesn't want to fire you, right? I'll convince him not to." 

Yoon stared at you completely lost and moved. He could barely hold back the urge to cry now, "I deserve to be fired... It's my fault that you were kidnapped, Miss..."

You shook your head and then two more figures appeared at the entrance. Your heart jumped at the sight of Jumin and Zen. They both looked at you in shock, pale. Then Jumin hurried over to you, pushed Yoon away and fell to his knees in front of you. 

"Y/N... Y/N..." His voice broke, his hands trembled and he was afraid to touch you. "God... You're all bruised... God, your hands..." He took your hand in fear and stared at your blood-ragged wrist.

All your indifference and emptiness began to disappear. Jumin's presence awakened such a wave of emotion that you shuddered all over your body. All the trauma you went through came back to you.

"Jumin..." You looked into his eyes - they were red and had dark circles around, you could see the beginning of insanity in them. That was the last straw for you. "Jumin!" You cried and, despite your aching body, hugged him. In return, he embraced you so hard that you thought he would crush you. But you didn't care, you just wanted to be close to him. You couldn't stop crying and after a while... you both were crying.

"I thought I lost you ..." Jumin stammered through his tears, pressing your head against his shoulder. You wanted to answer, a storm of thoughts reigned in your head, but you choked with tears to the point that you were hiccuping and unable to speak.

"Shhh..." He tried to calm you down, though he didn't stop shedding tears as well. "It's alright, I'm here."

You suddenly heard someone's groan. You looked out of the corner of your eye and saw Yuwoon regain consciousness. The memories of everything he did to you came back to your head. Panic and fear overwhelmed you, you screamed and backed away, pressing your back to the wall. Jumin looked at Yuwoon who was massaging his neck and jumped to his feet, "You...! I'll kill you!" 

You've never heard Jumin so incredibly angry. You didn't want to know what he would do if Zen didn't grab his shoulders and stop him when Jumin threw himself in the Yuwoon's direction.

"Calm down, dude!" Zen shouted. "The police will be here soon and will take care of him!"

Yoon didn't let Yuwoon escape, he stopped him until the police arrived. An ambulance also arrived and you went to the hospital with the company of Jumin, who was holding you by the hand all the way.

You spent two weeks in the hospital. It turned out that in addition to bruises and bloody abrasions, you also had a sprained ankle. Moreover, you were starved, dehydrated and your head was heavily battered, now bandaged.

Jumin almost sued the hospital for refusing to let him stay with you all this time. In the end, he simply bought the whole room, making sure that only you could stay in it, and he slept on the bed next to you - although he did not sleep peacefully and not once when you woke up at night you saw him napping in the chair next to your bed.

During the day he just sat next to you, read to you, gave you water and talked to you. The first dinner you got was so miserable that... Jumin almost sued the hospital again. Anything he considered insufficient had to be rectified immediately. You almost felt unfair toward other patients, because Jumin's influence led to that all the staff was running around you like you were a queen. 

Other RFA members often visited you. When Yoosung saw you in the hospital bed for the first time, he cried like a child and you had to comfort him, patting his head in embarrassment. Seven smuggled you unhealthy food, including his favorite Honey Buddha Chips, but Jumin didn't let you eat it anyway. Jaehee brought you tasty fruits and at each visit, she also complained about the enormity of work and asked Jumin to return to the company. You also tried to convince him - thanks to him you already had excellent care here - but he was too stubborn.

When Zen visited you for the first time, he brought you a bouquet of red flowers, which of course caused a small argument. Jumin was just reading, sitting on the chair next to your bed when Zen entered the room with a wide smile and shouting "Baby~!" in his sweet voice.

Jumin, with a stoic expression, only raised his eyebrows without taking his eyes off a book, "What are these flowers for?" 

"What? Are you serious?" Zen came up to you and gave you a bouquet, for which you thanked with a smile. 

"Flowers won't help her recover," Jumin said professionally.

"Dude, I just want her to feel better!" 

"She needs neither you nor your flowers to feel better." 

This quarrel would probably continue for several minutes if you didn't start laughing.

Even Saeran visited you. You thanked him for what he did because without his work, searching for you could take longer or... no, you didn't want to think about it. 

"Now I am worthy of becoming your dog?" Saeran asked sarcastically. 

"You are worthy of soooo much more," You answered honestly. 

"I will make sure you get a proper reward for your work," Jumin added. 

Saeran blushed! "Stop with this stupid kindness. You're making me cringe..."

Yoon also appeared. He apologized to you and Jumin, and although he was the one who freed you from Yuwoon, Jumin continued to look at him sharply. You stood up for him and only because of your request Jumin did not fire him. But without blinking an eye he fired all the bodyguards Sarah had bribed.

And the day came when your parents visited you. You were sorry when you saw their condition - your mom didn't have any makeup, her wrinkles seemed to got worse, your father also seemed to age a few years, when you last saw him, he wasn't so gray on his head... Your mother obviously started to cry - much worse than Yoosung. Your father was like an iceberg, and he didn't take his eyes off Jumin. "Why didn't you tell us what was going on?" Mother asked you. "Why didn't you say you had problems with Yuwoon? That you moved out of your apartment?" "I'm sorry, mom... I didn't want to worry you...I didn't want to involve you in my love problems. I'm not a child anymore." Jumin handed your mother a handkerchief, without a word, stoic as always. "Oh, thank you..." Your mother blinked, picked up a handkerchief, and began to wipe her face and eyes. "Well, we're involved now, you want it or not," Your father said, then turned directly to Jumin, in a tone that made you feel cold and uncomfortable, "Don't get me wrong, young man, but I don't like your relationship with my daughter. I think you are partly responsible for what happened to her. You are a known person, you have your enemies. Now, when there are so many rumors about you two, my daughter will be constantly threatened." "Dad..." You started, squinting and pouting. "I understand you, Mr. L/N," Jumin replied calmly. "I am aware of what I am responsible for and why I have been at fault. Still, I would like to continue this relationship with your daughter, with your consent. I promise her kidnapper will be punished with the greatest punishment. My lawyers will take care of it."

Your father didn't look convinced. Ultimately, however, he took a deep breath under the pressure of your irritated look, "Well... Y/N is an adult, I can't stop her from anything. But if she ever gets hurt because of you again..."

"I understand, Mr. L/N," Jumin still had a stony expression on his face.

Your four talked for some time - Or rather... it was mostly you and your mother who was talking. Your father and Jumin... not so much. The tension between them was huge.

When your parents were about to leave, your mother, much to your embarrassment, grabbed Jumin's hand with both of her hands and said, "Unlike my grumpy husband, I am grateful to you for looking after my daughter. You are a very nice man."

You had to bite your lower lip to avoid laughing. You have never seen Jumin so embarrassed before. You knew that the compliments from other women never impressed him, but apparently praise directly from your mother confused him completely.

"I... Uh... Thank you, Mrs. L/N," He answered. "I will try not to disappoint you."

When your parents left, Jumin cleared his throat and looked at you, "What? Why are you smiling like that?"

[sophiehunteroctopussyblog]

As Benedict Cumberbatch returns to screens big and small, he tells Craig McLean the secret to building a blockbuster body – and why his Sherlock co-star is wrong to fret about the fans

The last time I met Benedict Cumberbatch he was wearing only a pair of trunks, eating wine gums and worrying about the size of his abs. It was April 2017 and we were on the suburban set of The Child in Time, the first drama from his production company, SunnyMarch. In the lead role as a children’s author overwhelmed by grief following the disappearance of his daughter, Cumberbatch was preparing to shoot a scene in a bathtub – and was painfully aware that his toned torso looked out of place.

Shortly after the five-week shoot, the actor explained, he was due to fly to America to reprise his part as the disarmingly buff, dimension-bending Marvel superhero Doctor Strange. The year before, his stand-alone Doctor Strange movie had taken almost half a billion pounds at the international box office – and when it was announced that the character (also glimpsed briefly in Thor: Ragnarok last autumn) would be making a prominent return in this year’s Avengers: Infinity War there was no question of Cumberbatch returning to the role without first hitting the gym.

By the time we met, the actor’s pre-shoot fitness regime – which he described as “pretty full on… but a mental sorbet” – was well under way; hence those abs.

Fast forward to April 2018 and Cumberbatch – a 41-year-old father of two – is in front of me once again, in a London hotel room, midway through the global press tour for Infinity War. This time, thank God, he is fully clothed (in blue linen, denim and suede), but he’s still eating sweets.

Bulging with stars (Robert Downey Jr, Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Zoe Saldana and Josh Brolin for starters), the biggest Marvel film to date promises to be a superhero Greatest Hits, featuring all of the Avengers, Spider-Man, Black Panther and the Guardians of the Galaxy. Such is the secrecy surrounding it that I’ve only been shown 25 minutes, all superhero banter and ear-splitting battles against Brolin’s intergalactic villain, Thanos.

Doctor Strange appears to be the main goody, no less. Coiled in his chair, Cumberbatch admits that, after all those hours in the gym, he “bristled” earlier in the day when a journalist commented that his Doctor Strange “wasn’t very brawny”.

“How dare he?” he tuts now in mock-outrage, “Didn’t he see my shirt-off scene? Just hours before we shot it, I was told to do nothing but drink coffee and eat Skittles. ‘What,’ I said, ‘you want to turn me into a trucker?’ But they said it’s about dehydrating – if you have that much of a sugar- and caffeine-hit, the skin ‘shrink-wraps’ round your muscles”. He grins toothily. “And it worked!” He frowns. “I would never advise it, though.”

Still, however Doctor Strange’s physique looks on screen, one place the Oscar-nominated, Harrow-educated star can count on his character having rock-solid abs is on the associated merchandise, from T-shirts to figurines. “It’s the lunch box moment,” says Cumberbatch, wryly.

He tells me about a recent visit to the home of his friend and co-star, Tom Hiddleston (“Hiddlebum”) who has been a member of the Marvel family since 2011 when he appeared as Loki in the first Thor film. “I went into his kitchen and I just said: ‘Holy s---, you’ve been merch’d: you are on the lunch box.’ And he went: ‘I know, it’s great, right?’ And, yes, it is great. It’s also slightly terrifying. I thought: ‘Oh, is that one of the hurdles? Is that a Hiddlebum moment or a McAvoy moment?’” (another peer, James McAvoy, got his “lunch box moment” with the X-Men films). That is: does the actor have to make peace with being turned into a moulded plastic souvenir?

He does, and Cumberbatch evidently has. “It’s terrible but I actually look for kids wearing Marvel gear,” he admits. “And there are very few Doctor Strange lunch boxes or backpacks.” Ten years and 19 movies into the Marvel Cinematic Universe – and with this year’s Black Panther receiving unprecedented critical acclaim – does Cumberbatch think the time for snobbery about superhero movies is over?

If, say, Eddie Redmayne asked him if he should put on cape and tights, would he encourage his friend? “I’d say he’s got his plate quite full with wizardry right now,” he chuckles, referring to Redmayne’s role in J K Rowling’s Fantastic Beasts franchise. “But, yeah, if you really are bored of that, come and join the party!”

With great franchises come great responsibilities, however. Recently, Cumberbatch’s Sherlock co-star, Martin Freeman, grumbled to me about the oppressive level of expectation created by the series’ obsessive fans. “Being in that show, it is a mini-Beatles thing,” the actor who plays Doctor Watson said. “People’s expectations, some of it’s not fun any more. It’s not a thing to be enjoyed…”

Did the fans’ obsession with Sherlock kill the fun for Cumberbatch, too? “Mmm, not really ’cause I didn’t engage with it that much,” he says. “I’m very grateful for the support, but that’s about it.” His attitude is that fan fervour becomes a separate, uncontrollable force, that “it takes on its own thing. But that happens with every franchise or entity like this.”

He pauses, frowns, then continues with what sounds like a bracing criticism of his co-star. “It’s pretty pathetic if that’s all it takes to let you not want to take a grip of your reality. What, because of expectations? I don’t know. I don’t necessarily agree with that. There is a level of it [where] I understand what he means. There’s a level of obsession where [the franchise] becomes theirs even though we’re the ones making it. But I just don’t feel affected by that in the same way, I have to say.”

He is similarly forthright on the subject of Patrick Melrose. In David Nicholls’s forthcoming five-part television drama, adapted from Edward St Aubyn’s autobiographical novels, Cumberbatch plays the lead, a character who, on the page, can appear to be an unlikeable, heroin-taking posho. “Well, your words not mine,” he replies. “I don’t think he’s unlikeable at all. I think he’s fiercely funny, erotic, charming and dangerous. And incredibly, incredibly damaged. So you should feel for him.

"The posh bit? I mean, what, you think people who are sexually abused by their father from the age of five to 10 aren’t worthy of our attention because they’re posh? You need to go back to ethics school, surely. That’s a terribly shaky moral position to hold. So,” he concludes briskly, “I don’t bounce with that.”

Neverthelesss, I suggest, it’s hard to imagine that Melrose’s life – from childhood abuse to the drugs with which he self-medicates to escape his pain – will make easy viewing. “I think at heart it will be a really enjoyable watch,” says Cumberbatch. “But it’s not for the faint-hearted. It is a story of salvation. But it is blisteringly funny. That’s the real hook for me. Even among the depth-charge moments of abuse, you’re kind of mesmerised by Hugo Weaving’s David Melrose [Patrick’s father], as you are in the books. He’s a really magnetic character.”

While researching the part, Cumberbatch talked to counsellors and former addicts. Was he also able to draw on his own school days? Surely, at Harrow, he wasn’t short of classmates weighed down by their heritage. “Well there was a prince of Jordan, so that brought a level of weirdness. But the more English version? I didn’t get an intro much into that world. I was very privileged to be at Harrow, but there’s not some part of Wiltshire that belongs to the Cumberbatches.

“We have our past – you don’t have to look far to see the slave-owning past, we were part of the whole sugar industry, which is a shocker,” he says of the revelation four years ago that an 18th-century forebear was a Bristolian merchant who established plantations in Barbados. But, no, he didn’t know “Lord and Lady Such and Such”.

His only ennobled classmate was Simon Fraser, whose father and uncle died “tragically close to one another in our last year,” making him the 16th Lord Lovat. “He suddenly became titled, and we didn’t even know. “The point is,” he continues, “weird though it might be [given] the perception of me out there, I had to push some to get to the right level of class for this. And that was a very important part of the process. Because Patrick Melrose is very much a study of class, and the disintegration of the moneyed, landed gentry to cash-poor, still possibly land-rich idiocy. Their hypocritical, cynical, back-stabbing, malicious, ironic unsympathetic behaviour is really exposed with a scalpel in this.”

Speaking of men behaving badly, if things had gone according to plan, we would by now have seen Cumberbatch’s performance as Thomas Edison in the historical epic, The Current War. At one point mooted as an Oscar-contender, the film’s original release was scrapped after its producer Harvey Weinstein (with whom Cumberbatch had previously worked on The Imitation Game) fell spectacularly from grace. Cumberbatch sounds far from disappointed.

“If it takes us not releasing our film for a couple of years just to be rid of that toxicity, I’m fine with that,” he says, adding that he wants “to step back and be as far removed from that influence as possible, both as filmmaker and as human being.”

He recalls being on the Avengers set when the Weinstein story broke. “You could feel people going: ‘This is important and this will change things…’ And that’s terrific,” he says. “But having worked with the man twice…” he exhales heavily. “Lascivious… I wouldn’t want to be married to him… Gaudy in his tastes, for all his often-brilliant film-making ability ...

But did I know that was going on? A systematic abuse of women, happening through bribery, coercion, trying to gain empathy, to physical force and threats, physical and to career? No. No,” he says firmly. “That was the true shock. That this has just literally happened. And it’s  been covered up by an entire body of people through lawsuits and gagging and money – hundreds of thousands of dollars paid to silence victims and survivors.”

He shakes his head, aghast. “That truly was a revelation. I have a film company. Our head of development is a woman. There are two women running the television side of SunnyMarch. Adam [Ackland, his SunnyMarch co-founder] and me are the only men in the office. Countless times I’ve brought up issues of equal pay and billing. And so to realise that this attitude is so deeply culturally ingrained – that was my rude awakening. We have to fight a lot harder.”

That’s toxic masculinity dealt with; now bring on Thanos!

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/films/0/benedict-cumberbatch-privilege-marvel-muscles-martin-freemans/

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Hypocrite in action. Seems lying is his second nature now. Everthing for the image. What Martin said about Sherlock days ago is pathetic? Riiiiiight!

Sure it was controversial but pathetic?!

For those of you who think there will be another season of Sherlock: Think again!

And BC didn't know about Weinstein's "methods".

Doing a "Meryl Streep" here BC?!

I'm going with Martin here:

[oakpodcast]

Transmission 2 Transcript

Intro

HOLLY:

If you're just now finding these transmissions, please start with transmission 1. 

MUSIC: "SOLITUDE" BY MUCIOJAD

SOUND: Morse (SOS SOS SOS SOS)

HOLLY:

This is Holly, broadcasting on all frequencies using protocol: MINISTER DELTA. This transmission is intended for Oak, last known location CAESAR casino in PRAGUE. All others please disregard.

Dead

SOUND: a busy McDonald's in the southeastern USA

HOLLY:

I love how you can learn all kinds of stuff from Google. For example, today I Googled myself and learned that I'm apparently dead.

HOLLY:

I know! It was news to me, too. Apparently, I overdosed on Xanax and alcohol the night of the tribunal. The worst part is that that's... frustratingly believable. I mean... this article in our local paper...

HOLLY:

(Reading) The woman's body was found Sunday, March 12th, when a concerned co-worker asked police to conduct a welfare check.

HOLLY:

"She wasn't answering any of my calls," the anonymous woman said. -That's probably Cami- "That wasn't too out of the ordinary for her, but she had promised to answer if I called her three times in a row. After three days of silence, I was worried."

HOLLY:

Another anonymous coworker, I assume Evergreen, said: "She seemed really distressed in court Friday. The cross-examination was pretty intense. They really dragged her through the mud. And that was before they announced she was facing criminal charges of her own."

HOLLY:

Oh look, there's a quote from you. It says they brought you home for the funeral, and... "I'm devastated to lose her. This didn't have to happen. Nothing can ever bring her back, but I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure she rests in peace."

HOLLY:

Maybe that's made up, but it sounds just like you. Are you in on this, or... do you really think I'm dead?

HOLLY:

It's just so believable. It's exactly how I would have done it. And Friday night was my low point. If I were going to do it, it would have been then. And it would have been that method.

HOLLY:

I can just imagine your face when you got the news. I know you must have been remembering the night you left—2am, me half-asleep in pajamas in the bathtub, you frantically pouring old prescriptions into the toilet while you packed your travel kit.

HOLLY:

I don't remember a lot about the past three months, but I do remember that, somehow, despite how drunk I was at the time. And you, you probably remember shaking the Xanax in my face to wake me up. You told me, "You have to promise me you won't do anything stupid with these," and I said, "I won't, I promise."

HOLLY:

You didn't believe me, but you put them back in the cabinet anyway. And then you left. I did actually keep my promise. You only think I broke it and washed the whole bottle down with vodka.

HOLLY:

But I'm not dead!  You can feel that I'm not dead, right?! We have a connection, I thought, you could... tell...

HOLLY:

I... I need a minute.

SOUND: Morse .- .-.. --- --- ..- .- ... -.. .-.. -.-

SitRep

HOLLY:

Situation report. Date: March 22nd. Time: 11:18 p.m. Weather: indecisive. It's been pretty cold and rainy most of the past week and a half. Not as cold as home, obviously, but cold enough that I've been holing up at the library and some 24-hour McDonald's.

HOLLY:

I'm kind of offended that I ended up somewhere without a Timmy's, tho. Honestly, who's dumb idea was that? I'd like to have a word with them.

HOLLY:

Anyway, it's starting to warm up now, but it's gone from below freezing to basically summer temperatures in a matter of days, which is especially annoying since I don't always have access to air conditioning. That's the downside of being hot-natured, I guess. I'm comfortable in Siberia, but not so much in Alabama.

HOLLY:

I don't want you to think I'm frivolously wasting money on food when I could be dumpster diving. I am doing that, sort of, sometimes... when I can stomach the idea of it. But after a certain point I was dehydrating myself trying to dumpster dive; it just made a lot more sense to go to McDonald's or the grocery store.

SOUND: morse .--- .--. -.-- --.- ..- ...- ..- -.-

HOLLY:

I don't know why I keep talking to you. Deep down, I don't really think you're listening. But... what else can I do? Even if you're not listening, I can't get through this ordeal without pretending you are. I'm only pushing through right now on the off chance that you'll hear this and... do something, if I just talk long enough. Or maybe if I keep talking to you, some other entity will overhear and take pity on me.

HOLLY:

Speaking of which, there are a few people I'd like to thank. First of all, Susan was kind enough to send me enough money for a bottle of acetaminophen.

HOLLY:

It's... a little complicated how I got the PayPal account and bank card to use the funds, but if being dead doesn't absolve you of a little cybercrime, what does? You can find the PayPal button on my Tumblr, which is OAKPODCAST.tumblr.com.

HOLLY:

Is it dramatic to say I wanted to kill myself a little less because of your gift? Well, dramatic or not, it's true. Being in pain makes it really hard to think, and that's kind of critical to my survival right now, so thank you so much for the acetaminophen, Susan!

HOLLY:

Susan wasn't my only donor this week. Adie has been helping me out with meals. Thank you, Adie. I feel completely horrible when my stomach gets too empty, so thank you so much for your help.

HOLLY:

Lastly, an anonymous person also pledged enough funds to get me two nights in the women's shelter. That's right-homeless shelters are not free here. I had no idea until I showed up there like an idiot with no money.

HOLLY:

And tonight I'm back to that same situation. No money, nowhere to go...

SOUND: MORSE --. ..- .--. --. .. -.. -.- ..-

Nuances and Dichotomies

HOLLY:

I wonder what these broadcasts sound like to someone who isn't you. I wonder if a casual eavesdropper would think I'm nuts, or leaving an extremely long voicemail, or praying, or... I'm not sure what.

HOLLY:

You always used to say that I'm smart with science and machines but dumb with people. I think that's a fair enough assessment. Although, in my defense, I'm pretty good at guessing what people will do. And why, even. I just don't understand why they're so stupid!

HOLLY:

I won't insult you and pretend that I've been handling this situation... maturely. Not all the time, anyway. I think we both know I've spent a lot of the past week or two regressing to some less-than-professional behaviors.

HOLLY:

I may or may not have had a meltdown over people being too noisy in the library while I was reading about my own death. So... I'm sort of steering clear of that library for now.

SOUND: Morse .--. .. .--. .-. .--. .--- .--.

HOLLY:

It's so hard to pretend to be a normal human when your life depends on it, especially when you don't have a safe, quiet place to retreat to. I don't even have a safe place to rub my rocks against my face, besides the washroom.

HOLLY:

I find podcasts help. Not the nonfiction ones you like so much. I get so agitated listening to people ramble. Which is hypocritical, I'm well aware, but it is what it is.

HOLLY:

When people are acting, they take on a different cadence. They cut out all the filler words that grate on my nerves, and the stories are a good distraction.

HOLLY:

So this week, I've started listening to a show called Jim Robbie and the Wanderers. It's... soothing. Very Jewish in philosophy, I think. Also, Tango reminds me a lot of you, and Charlie reminds me a little bit of me, so it makes me a little less homesick.

SOUND: Morse .- .--. -.- ...

HOLLY:

Most of the time, I just get so lost in my head that I forget I have a physical body. As far as I'm concerned, I don't have a gender or any other traits. I mean, I'm aware that people treat me differently, usually not in a good way because of how they perceive me, but internally? Whenever people call me a woman, there's always this moment of-

HOLLY:

(robot voice) "Yes, human, the pronouns you have assigned me are acceptable. My programming does not specify a preference."

HOLLY:

(laughing) I just got really weird looks for saying that.

HOLLY:

I do have to be careful about that. People mostly leave me alone, but I'm scared if I seem too "crazy..."

HOLLY:

I mean, I do have issues, obviously! But people don't really seem to care if you're mentally unwell if you're just sitting quietly, drinking your coffee and contemplating your own death. They only care if you start getting agitated or violent or you start talking to people who aren't there. Which... technically, I am? But you know what I mean.

HOLLY:

So far I've found that I get significantly fewer weird looks if I pretend like I'm talking on the phone while I record these, so... I guess that helps.

SOUND: MORSE .- .-.. - -.- ...

HOLLY:

Back to my incredibly exciting nuances and dichotomies, because who doesn't love talking at length about themselves?

HOLLY:

Let's see, for any strangers listening...

HOLLY:

Well, I'm the clumsiest person I know who still managed to pass Basic.

HOLLY:

Look, just because I've practiced running laps and firing guns and seducing heiresses doesn't mean it comes naturally. 

HOLLY:

I love horror movies, but I'm afraid to leave the house by myself. I'm also afraid to be inside the house by myself, so you see my dilemma over the past three months.

HOLLY:

Meh. I have rocks that are more interesting than me. I don't want to talk about myself anymore. Sorry, strangers! You'll have to learn my deepest darkest secrets through anonymous Tumblr messages, just like everyone else.

SOUND: Morse -.- ..- ..- --.

Inventory

HOLLY:

Inventory acquired since last transmission: One really worn-out backpack, several assorted plastic grocery bags, a few extra pieces of clothing from the shelter—and thank GOD, because let me tell you, the skirt suit Camellia picked out  was not the most comfortable thing in the world!—some assorted toiletries, one pair of earbuds from the dollar store, a large piece of unpolished quartz, and a smaller piece of pyrite.

SOUND: morse - --- -... ..- -.- ...

HOLLY:

I still don't have money for the papers I need. First thing tomorrow, I'm going to make a new sign and get back out there panhandling for it.

HOLLY:

Any money you can send would be a huge help, but I know I can't count on that, so... trying to be proactive.

MUSIC: Outro theme (Solitude by muciojad)

SOUND: morse -.-. ..- .. --

HOLLY:

All right, I desperately need to sleep. I'll report back soon.

SOUND: morse -.-- - .. ..- / ... ..- .--. .---

Outro

HOLLY:

Oak, please confirm receipt of my transmission. Find me on Gmail, social media, and Patreon under the username "oakpodcast." I would be really grateful for any money you can send to me, as things are getting more desperate every day.

HOLLY:

Patreon is also where I'll be submitting more secure transmissions for you.

HOLLY:

If you're eavesdropping on me without authorization, maybe you can make up for it by rating and reviewing this podcast to help my partner find it. End transmission.

SOUND: Morse -- .. ..- .--. --.- ..- / -.-. ..- .. -- / .--- ..-

MUSIC: Outro fades out

[youreghanamissme]

Mole, March, and Moving Out

3/1/2018

It's March, and in about three weeks' time, I am out of here. It's still surreal. In this past week I have been up close and personal with elephants, bought my ticket back to California (April 18—hit me up!), and started to zone out when thinking about the void of what awaits me back in America: unemployment, no health insurance, political turmoil, tax hikes, an unavoidable consequence of crippling debt in every “adulting” maneuver, moving back in with my elderly parents, no prospects...

But at least I'll have access to Netflix, better beer, and hot cheetos to numb myself.

Of course, this is all the business of Future-Diana. Present-Diana has to figure out how to move out (read: get rid of all my empty wine and vodka bottles and holey undergarments at site), close my accounts, say goodbye, and not waste precious bodily fluids on tears when they can be excreted as sweat to contend with this persistent sweltering heat. Might I add: hot season means existing with multiple heat rashes all over one's body, two of which is unfortunately (and perhaps cosmically) located right where one's inner thighs rub and chafe; it is a stretch of time where the sanguine promise of mangoes is met with concessions to an unrelenting desire to lay butt-naked under the fan for all hours of each day. But I digress.

Let's talk about elephants. These majestic, larger-than-my-life creatures were truly a sight to behold. I still can't get over it. It almost feels like a dream. Mole National Park was a slice of some other country and that 1% life; it defied all the normal tropes of hot season, not that being in a high-end resort didn't help with the illusion. It didn't feel sizzling at all; if anything, it rained on our way there! And the area was a homeland of plentiful greenery and forestry. We saw a plethora of different antelope species, birds on birds on birds, a warthog, baboons frolicking away from our direction, and of course, elephants.

Mole National Park is probably the only worthwhile thing that the Northern region has to offer. Upper East has its holy crocodiles and woven baskets/hats. Upper West has its holy hippos. Everywhere else has beaches on beaches on beaches, UNESCO slave castles, monkey sanctuaries, waterfalls, that city aEsThEtIqUe, and (cheaper) fruit diversity. But hey—at least we got Mole National Park! Most volunteers save up for this experience because it is not cheap. Getting into the park, accommodations, safari, tour guides, etc. And it doesn't help that if you want to visit the oldest mosque in Ghana (and one of the oldest in West Africa)—Larabanga—you might get shafted by hustling locals (I don't blame 'em for trying to make a buck, but they have been known to be aggressive with foreigners... for good reason. Not their fault the mosque is a historical landmark). It’s been standing since 1421!! That's incredible. We didn't go to Larabanga since we've seen plenty of mosques, and I had no plans to go and pray inside. It wasn't worth it to us, but I can appreciate its magnitude. We had our eyes on The Prize: ~safari vaca~

I didn't take a lot of photos on the safari since my phone camera is two steps away from tragic. Of the few snaps I did manage, you can perhaps squint and see the silhouette of an antelope or two with the aid of my commentary. We woke up early and climbed into the safari jeep along with a handful of other guests. The majority of them were Britons. Honestly, I spent most of the weekend eavesdropping on people's mundane conversations just so I could listen to them speak in their lovely accents—English, Canadian, Belgian. Yes, please! I would be more than happy to listen to someone read the Bible, as long as they do it in a Scottish accent. This little Belgian nugget asked her mum how elephants celebrated their birthdays, and I near died with glee. The one thing I couldn't get enough of, no doubt, were the elephants.

There is an antelope in here. Seriously. Can you spot it?

Loxodonta africana (African Elephant) Did you know...

There are only two distinct species of elephant left in the world: The African elephant and the Asian elephant

The word “elephant” comes from the Greek word “elephas” which means “ivory”

Elephant behavior is associated with a unique animal intelligence that displays grief, altruism, compassion, self-awareness, play, art and music!

Elephants have two gaits – a walk and a faster gait that is similar to running. They cannot jump, trot or gallop, however they can swim and use their trunk as a snorkel.

The elephant’s gestation period is 22 months – longer than any other land animal in the world

All facts (and more info!) from Africa Geographic

Over an hour spent searching for elephants, and not one revealed itself to us. But it was still lovely to drink Ethiopian coffee and munch on some shortbread cookies during break. We stopped at a river and climbed onto some sort of roofed wooden post overlooking a crocodile hole that could be seen indifferently camouflaged at the bank. After snack the driver Abu gave us all a little piece of bitter bark from a special tree whose name I've long forgotten. The chemicals released from the bark relieved indigestion and malaria symptoms; it could even be brewed into tea! But its novelty wore off the second the acrid zing hit my taste buds. As we headed back to the resort a little crestfallen and elephant-starved, there he was! Right at the entrance! Ahhh, I was elated. Even more so than when the lunch buffet the day before had bottomless olives and feta.

Everyone took an excessive amount of photos while trying to give him his space. He was glorious. The resort also had two man-made watering holes that attracted many of the park's dehydrated inhabitants. That's how many of us gazed on bathing elephants—some of them whole families, with mama and her babies—like voyeurs.

The whole experience was incredible. The accommodations, the views, the food—truly a delight and wayyy beyond what I'm used to in my village but also in my typical lower middle-class life. It was a nice sprinkling of parm on top of this lasagna of a Peace Corps service in Ghana.

Alas, I still have a few good weeks left of service, and I still have a project or two to wrap up. My beekeeping project is finally ready to enter phase 2: honey harvesting. I'm hoping to prep all the materials by this weekend. It's been nearly a year, but we had to restart completely when a parasite infestation decimated our colonies. In the mean time, the local instructor has gouged the prices on me from our original quotes a year ago, much to my disappointment. But at the end of the day, Cedis are Cedis are Cedis, and as long as it helps the beekeepers, I'm content.

My counterpart has been elusive lately, which makes the last month particularly difficult as I attempt to wrap things up with a nice lil' bow. But it's for good reason. He's gotten another job as an evening review teacher with the local nuggets, so that's more income for him! But on top of teaching at the private primary school in the morns, teaching in the PM, and farming the rest of the time, that means there's no time for Peace Corps projects. It sucks, but I'm not going to fight it. The silver lining: I can appreciate all the times he was available and attentive at the start of my service much more, something I took for granted as some PCV's had to deal with an absentee CP from the get-go. He's also been my rock; all my other attempted CP relationships collapsed as people moved away or lost interest. So cheers to you Jacob!

One of the defining traits of PC service is the ephemeral qualities of some relationships and the everlasting bond of others. It's illuminating how, at the end of the day, we're all we've got, but there are people in the gallery looking out for us too.