#and yes in the city you can never actually see the north star proper because of the lights

[evadingreallife]

I say yes but what i mean is that i need a moment to think about where the sun is and then i'll know where north is

My friend just. Didn't know where north was???

[beatricethecat2]

“I’m super bummed about the yurt,” Myka says.

“It is rather unfortunate," Helena says. "Perhaps internet rentals are unreliable?”

“That’s how everything’s done these days. And it’s not their fault, the pump died, and no water means it’s a no-go. But I still want that river view.”

“And the solitude. Plus the solar-powered generator.”

“You were super into that,” Myka says. “But this place…” She pushes at the cards scattered in front of her. “They just left stuff lying around. Such a dump.”

“It was rather last minute. Merely a stop-gap; a place to rest our weary heads after nights under the stars.”

“And backs on the hard ground,” Myka grumbles. “Where’d you find this?” She twirls a yellow flower between her thumb and forefinger.

“In the garden behind the shed. Though ‘garden’ and 'shed’ are generous terms.”

“Thanks for picking it. And thanks for being so upbeat about this,” Myka says, cracking a small smile.

“Thank you for humoring my curiosity.” Helena gathers the cards within her reach and piles them into a neat stack.

“It’s given us a destination, which we needed.” Myka pushes more cards towards Helena. “You’re sure none of the sites we saw are what you remember?”

“From the stereographs? No.” Helena fans the cards out and begins to arrange them in suits.

“Could you…could it be you don’t remember it as well as you thought?

"Stereographs were the virtual reality of my day. They immersed one in places inherently foreign to our own. The take-away memories were vivid. I was hoping…”

“Hoping what?” Myka says, scooting closer, joining in organizing the cards.

“That the physicality of the ruins would trigger an emotional response. I viewed the images at one of Charles’s parties not long before I was bronzed. My reaction was quite visceral; I’d felt life flowing through the structures, even though they were long abandoned.”

Helena stares at the card in her hand.

“Then again, I wasn’t exactly in my right mind. Perhaps it’s a ridiculous quest.” She lays the card, a joker, on the table.

“Hey, we’ll keep looking,” Myka says, laying her hand over Helena’s. “We’ll regroup in Vegas, then go north and hit Mesa Verde. It’s pretty magical.”

“You’ve been before?”

“Girl Scout trip. Long, miserable bus ride. But even as a kid, the cliff dwellings felt magical.”

“Perhaps they’re the site I’m looking for!” Helena says, perking up. “And, perhaps we met there in the past. Star-crossed lovers, throughout time and space.”

“Past lives? You believe in that?”

“Not in a grand sense,” Helena says, aligning the gazes of the queen of hearts and queen of spades to face each other. “But I do appreciate that these days, one can mention such trivial mythologies without repercussions.”

“What do you mean?”

“In my day, as a woman, there was little room for flippant musing. Christian values dictated our every move, while Spiritualism promoted the fanatic embrace of communing with the dead. Not to mention the base-level assumption women were of a lesser intellect.”

“So you’d never say it out loud.”

“Never. In fact, I’d blocked it out. Hard science was my escape but at the expense of my sanity.”

“I suppose we all need a sense that something out there's guiding us,” Myka says, plucking the two other queens from the spread and aligning them as Helena did. “It’s kind of romantic to think our connection’s lasted hundreds of years.”

“But you’re not sold.”

“Nah.” Myka slips the cards on top of each other and slides them back into the pile.

“Perhaps my bronzing was the universe’s way of aligning our presence.”

“Sounds like a story you might write. Or one you already did.”

“So pragmatic, Myka Bering.”

“You’re the romantic,” Myka says, bumping Helena’s shoulder.

“I’m a woman of science!” Helena quips playfully.

“Hm, yeah,” Myka mumbles, turning to look towards the other side of the trailer. “Come with me, 'woman of science.’ Let’s test out this awful looking bed.”

She grabs Helena’s hand and tugs her across the room. They tumble in tandem onto the full-size futon.

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

Bering and Wells On the Road ("Warehouse 13" Season 5 replacement) Season 1: Episode 5 Title: Las Vegas: Hopes, Dreams, and a Little Bit of Crazy

Summary: Myka and Helena travel across the expanse of Texas toward the arid Southwest, tracking down a memory. A last-minute cancellation leads to less-than-ideal accommodations and musings on the universe. A stop in Vegas turns into an artifact hunt after a few nights on the town. While there, a less than supernatural mystery garners honest talk, revealing a sticking point that, for better or worse, is left hanging to be resolved down the line.

Previously: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4

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

***BONUS SCENE***

“What’s this?” Myka asks, holding a piece of paper found while tidying the room before checkout.

Helena turns from packing and squints at the page.

“It appears to be an advertisement for burlesque.”

“It’s a strip club.”

“There’s a distinction?”

“You’ve watched enough cop shows to know.”

“Touché,” Helena says with a smirk. “Were you considering attending?”

“It’s from your pocket! The stuff you took out to dry clean your coat after it got gooed.”

“I don’t recall saving that piece of ephemera.”

“Maybe you recall this?” Myka flips the paper over.

Helena steps closer and squints again.

“Do you need glasses?”

“I haven’t had proper tea yet,” Helena grumbles. “It appears to be writing.”

“It’s a name. And a number. Who's Giselle?”

“Ah…” A light bulb goes off behind Helena’s eyes. “The tall, blonde you were ogling at the bar.”

“Me? What blonde? Oh…” A dimmer bulb goes off behind Myka’s eyes. “I thought I recognized her from that show we saw, Zumanity.”

“And I’d thought she’d reminded you of a tall blonde from your past.”

“Sam was a man.”

“Gender is a construct–”

“I know! I don’t need another lecture–”

“–designed to control the masses, just like– ”

“Capitalism, religion, television….who knows what else,” Myka gruffs. “No more podcasts in the car for a while, OK?" 

Helena crosses her arms over her chest and grunts dismissively. Myka's face pinches as she holds her ground.

"So you, what, went up to this woman when I took that call from the Warehouse?”

“As it happens, she spoke with me,” Helena says, puffing up like a bird on the defense.

“She came to our table?”

“I’d gone to the bar. I needed a top-up as you’d been gone for an immeasurable amount of time.”

“And she just happened to be there?”

“Coincidentally.”

“Coincidentally? And she 'coincidentally’ gave you her number?”

“We had a lovely conversation about the mechanics from the show. The hanging armatures, the chains, the silks, the water tank. And the athleticism that went into their provocative stunts.”

“Uh-huh. But she gave you her number. Why?”

“I believe there was a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?”

“Must you parrot me so?” Helena plants her hands on her hips.

“If you’d tell me what really happened, I wouldn’t have to.” Myka mirrors Helena’s pose.

“Fine. You seemed so enamored, I thought to ask questions–”

“I thought I recognized her, that’s all!”

“She was quite stunning. Did I mention statuesque?”

“Helena, why?” Myka waves the page in Helena’s direction.

“She offered us a backstage tour.”

“Us, or you?”

“I’d pointedly mentioned you, so us.”

“Oh.” Myka’s shoulders slump. “What does 'backstage tour’ mean?”

“I believe a peek behind the production.”

“Because you said there was a misunderstanding.”

“Due to her somewhat pointed overtures.”

“I knew it! She was hitting on you.” Myka smacks the desk with her hand. 

Helena grimaces. “I believe she was 'fishing’”

“Do you even know what that is?”

“I do, as per the aforementioned police procedurals. In fact, it was….refreshing, being courted by a woman." 

"I’m a woman!”

“Yes, but….in the wild, so to speak.”

“Did you…” Myka starts, then glances at the paper again. She sits on the edge of the bed and looks up at Helena. “Did you want to go out with her?" 

"Again, I’d pointedly pointed out I was taken.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we rushed off New York, New York the minute your call from the Warehouse finished.” Helena throws her hands in the air. “We then spent the majority of yesterday chasing an elusive King Kong around that scale model of the city.”

“We did. Stupid antiques convention.”

“I swear we spend more time on Warehouse business than our own.”

“Like once a month.”

“Every week.”

“Every other week. When they call us. Us getting whammied doesn’t count.”

“Mine was New Orleans. Yours Austin. But the others…”

Myka tallies missions on fingers until she hits ten. “You’re right. We’ve spent a lot of time on Warehouse stuff. I’m sorry.”

Helena shakes her head while breathing out a heavy sigh. She sits next to Myka and lays a hand on her thigh. “To answer your question, we’re off today anyway, so there was no point in mentioning it.”

Myka slips her hand over Helena’s. “I bet you actually wanted to see the mechanics backstage. That’s something people do on vacation.”

“Quite an improvement from Trouble Wit,” Helena says.

“I don’t know that that is.”

“Illusions with pleated paper. Parlor tricks, but they delighted Christina so.”

“See, I like hearing that stuff,” Myka says, squeezing Helena’s hand. “Would you have told me any of this if I hadn’t found the flyer cleaning up?’ She hands the paper to Helena.

"Why would it matter?” Helena crumples the paper and lobs it towards the garbage can. It bounces off and onto the floor. 

“Because for this to work we need to talk to each other, tell each other how we feel.” Myka looks Helena in the eye. “I can’t read your mind.”

“Then, perhaps we were not destined to meet throughout time and space.”

“Hey, you can’t take it back. I like that idea now.” Myka threads her fingers through Helena's and flips their hands over. “You’re really annoyed about the work stuff?”

“I was hoping to have you all to myself.”

“You do.” Myka squeezes Helena’s hand again and lifts it up, kissing its back. “How much time do we have before checkout?”

Helena glances at her wristwatch. “Not nearly enough.”

“But it could be.” Myka threads a lock of hair behind Helena’s ear and guides their lips together. Their kiss leads to more-than-kissing in record time.

Next Scene: Running late to checkout…

-TBC-

NOTES: The quote, “Las Vegas is a city built on hopes, dreams and a little bit of crazy,” is by Eleanor Goggin. If you haven’t seen a well-shot stereograph in a viewer, you are missing out. Their mock-3D spaces from bygone eras can be mind-blowing.Myka with the flyer is from a season four episode where she and Pete go to Las Vegas. The show Zumanity is a racy offshoot of Cirque du Soleil and just closed after a seventeen-year run in Vegas. I started reading a fascinating dissertation about why middle- and upper-class Victorian women embraced Spiritualism. In a nutshell, it gave them autonomy and a sense of power within the rigid confines of what was expected of them as women while they remained safe within the construct of home. H.G. would have bristled at that, because she wanted more. But I’m certain she would have been fascinated by Hilma af Klint’s amazing drawings and paintings, even though they were based in Spiritualism and Theosophy. Oh and here's on of the stereographs. (H.G. would have seen it later than 1898.) Also, the title font/design is from the first edition of the book you are thinking of but the content is not related.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 4

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 4: The Shelbys go on holiday to the summer fair. 

             With school on summer holiday, Polly was at her wit's end with the children. While they mostly played outside, they’d always be in and out of the house banging around, tracking mud on the floor, coming in with scraped knees, or crying about something being unfair. Meanwhile, Finn was starting to walk and was also wreaking havoc, pulling on everything not tied down and making quick getaways.

            So, it was decided they would spend some of the holiday on the road with the Strong family. Of course, Tommy and Arthur weren’t exactly pleased. Seeing as the betting shop was just getting up and started, they couldn’t afford to lose out on money. Polly insisted and said Danny and the other men could handle a few weeks.

            Going on seven months pregnant, Amelia was a bit apprehensive about traveling out to the Welsh countryside. However, Tommy assured her that if she were to go into an early labor, she was in capable hands, probably better than any doctor in Birmingham. It was enough to sway her. They all needed a break from the city’s smoke and mud. Some fresh air was bound to do them good.

             And oh how sweet the air smelled once they were finally away from the city limits. Amelia had been to the countryside before but had never joined Tommy’s family to see their kin out on the road. Her parents would never allow her to be near other Travelers, especially ones who tended to be more nomadic in nature than the Shelbys were.

            But Tommy had told her enough stories as a child to make her interested. He tried to scare her with the stories they would tell around the fires. Try to explain the excitement of spring and summer fairs. It seemed like another world when he described it all. To be out in the Welsh wilderness, sleeping under the stars, riding horses all day, spinning yarns about fairies, it seemed to be a child’s dream.

            Now, Amelia was much more aware of the struggles Tommy’s extended family faced. The prejudice and poverty. None of those issues mattered as a child. They had blinders on so they wouldn't see the ugly side of life. All they saw was the fantastical magic the world still held onto. She yearned to have that innocence back but there was no going back.

   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            On the second day of traveling to the Black Mountains, Tommy was steering the vardo with Amelia sitting beside him. He held the position naturally, letting the reins be an extension of his arms as he guided the two horses along. Arthur was on another horse, riding along while Polly and the other three children stayed in the back of the wagon.

            “Good to be outside, aye?” Tommy struck up a conversation as a lull in the muggy afternoon settled on them.

            “Oh yes.” Amelia nodded. “Good to see the clear sky instead of smoke.” She joked. "I forgot how blue the sky could get sometimes." 

            “Get used to it. ‘Cause when we’ve got everything going with the shop, m’gonna buy a house out in the countryside.”      

            She smiled. “Is that right?” It wasn’t the first time Tommy made bold claims. Once money started rolling in from the betting shop, he started promising things that sounded outlandish even to Arthur. He promised a brand new luxury car to John, a new five story house for Polly, as many horses as Ada could want, and now a house in the country.

            “Like a cottage. Mum, dad, and I used to rent one for the holidays out in Wiltshire.” She recalled. “Cute little place.”

            “No.” He shook his head, the cigarette in his mouth practically just a bit of ash. “One of those fucking big ones. Like royals have. Dukes 'n whatever they are.”

            “Oh, Thomas, please.” She giggled and nudged him.

            “I’m serious!” He chucked the last bit of his cigarette. “Big place, dozens of bedrooms, proper kitchen, riding stables, maids, cooks, everything. We’ll live there with the baby. He’ll have room to run ‘stead of being cooped up in Small Heath.”

            It sounded wonderful to Amelia, like the stories he used to tell about traveling. But it was so far-fetched. “Can we focus just on what we’ve got now?” She wondered. “Tommy, I’m okay with making do with what I’ve got…and what you and your family have given me.” She touched his knee.

            He glanced over at her, his blue eyes so bright in the summer sun. “You don’t think you deserve more than this?” He wondered. “Wouldn’t you rather a nice big house, proper holidays to places like France?”

            “All those things would be nice but if I never get those things then I’ll be fine. I’m okay with what I have now.” She smiled at him to reassure that there wasn’t anything he needed to prove to her or promise.

            Tommy sighed and his eyes returned to the grassy path ahead of them. “I know the baby’s not mine but…I don’t want any other kid to go hungry like we did. Ain’t right how we were brought up. And if I can change that for my family and for the baby then, why not?”

            Amelia felt she wasn’t in a place to tell if he was right or wrong. So, she leaned over to kiss his cheek affectionately. “You’re a good man, Tommy Shelby.” She said softly. “A very good man.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            They met up with the Strongs at their camp and together they moved North to go to the Appleby fair. Ada chattered on to Amelia the whole ride there about how fun the fair was. There were crafts and fortune-tellers and horses, horses, horses. She would see all of her cousins and other distant relatives that they only got to see once in a blue moon. They’d race horses, swap stories, share laughs, and her brothers would box with the Lee boys.

            Although the trip took a little under a week, Amelia was in good spirits the whole way there. Tommy was practically a different person out in the countryside. He knew how to survive in Small Heath and knew how to survive outdoors just as well. He let loose a bit, not bothering to dress up and going barefoot a lot of the times. He smiled more and played with his siblings. It was as if he had left all his worries back in the city.

            Amelia thought he was so beautiful in the sun. His smile brightened ten fold, his eyes sparkled, and he moved as if he didn't have any stress on his shoulders. It warmed her heart to see him play-wrestling with John, riding horses with Ada, and picking up Finn to spin him around. For a moment, she pictured her child in the scene. A little boy or girl toddling after Tommy, looking for his attention. Tommy scooping them up and holding them close, just as a father would.

            All she could do was smile and keep her wide-eyed fantasies to herself. But it was so easy to get caught up in the magic of the forests and fields. It was so easy to get caught up in the smile of Tommy Shelby.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

            Ada was right, there was a lot to be said about the fair. Intricately and brightly painted vardos lined up and many people were milling around. There were people washing their horses in the rivers as children played and splashed one another by the banks.

            After a long journey, Amelia wanted to stretch her legs. Tommy walked with her along the river as the rest of the family prepared camp and watered the horses.

            “Pol said your feet might be hurting these days.” Tommy’s aunt was his go-to to get any pregnancy answers.

            “They’re a bit swollen, the heat doesn’t help,” Amelia admitted. Although getting to walk was nice, she was starting to get flushed in the heat.

            “And uh…any word from home?” He kept his eyes to the ground, kicking a stone along their way.

            “While we’ve been on the road for over a week?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “I haven’t gotten any messenger birds.”

            Tommy chuckled. “I meant when we were back home. I mean, we haven’t talked about it much.” He pointed out.

            Her smile faded. “No, I haven’t heard from them. I don’t know if they know where I am but I figured…well, I figured they would’ve thought to try and find me in Small Heath. I don’t know where else I would’ve gone with nothing in me pockets.

            “And the father?” They hadn’t broached the subject before because Polly insisted that he leave the matter be. But curiosity was just too damn tough to ignore.

            “Tom, I told you…”

            “Tommy Shelby!” Someone crowed out ahead of them. Three young men about Tommy and Arthur’s age stopped them.

            His face soured when he saw who was calling him. “Will.” He muttered obviously not in the mood to talk to them.

            “I heard the Shelbys were coming, how the hell are ya?” Will appeared to be the oldest of the three, a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair.

            “Fine, fine.”

           "And he's got someone up the duff." Will smacked a hand to his forehead when he saw Amelia. "Shelby, Shelby, Shelby. What a shame! You have to learn how to pull out or these things happen, Tommy."  He tutted in Shelta. "She is a sight though."

            Amelia suddenly felt very self-conscious about the baby bump showing. Of course, she ought to be showing at her stage of pregnancy, but she wasn’t keen on embarrassing the Shelbys. Especially if Tommy wasn’t actually the father.

            “Watch your fucking mouth.” Tommy spat venomously.

            The Lee brothers jostled each other, pleased that he was fighting back. “Still got that mouth on ya, Tommy Boy, haven’t ya?”

            “Fuck off.” He wrapped an arm around Amelia’s waist to steer her away from the brothers. “Fucking lowlifes never know when to shut their mouths..” He muttered under his breath.

            “Still got a fight in ya then? Or are ya too scared to step into the ring with me?” Will taunted after him.

            Amelia felt Tommy’s arm stiffen and he stopped in his tracks. Her eyebrows knit in worry. “Tom…” She warned.

            But he slipped away from her and turned to face the brothers again. “Name a time.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~

            “Ah, it’s never too long ‘til Tommy gets into it with one of the Lees at the fair.” Arthur punched his brother in the arm. “Lucky you got practice with those Birmingham Boys, aye?”

            Tommy avoided Amelia’s questioning glance even though he could feel her eyes on him.

            Polly didn’t even look like she wanted to get into the matter. Men fought at fairs, that was only tradition and it was in good fun most of the time. Besides, Small Heath was much more dangerous than a bout of boxing.

            Around the Shelbys’ camp, there was a buzz in the air of excitement. Music could be heard in a couple of different directions, people laughed and joined each other for a good time around the roaring fires and lanterns. Some girls some yards away were dancing in a circle, their long skirts illuminated by the flames.

            “When can I fight, Pol?” John asked hopefully. “I can take the Lees too!”

            “Hush.” Polly scolded. “When you’re older and you’ve learned how to box properly. I don’t want to bring you home with a broken hand.”

            John grimaced. “I’m old enough.” He muttered.

            “Men don’t pout or slouch.” She said and stood up to tend to Finn who was stirring in the vardo.

            “You gonna kill ‘im then, Tom?” Arthur smirked. “I heard he was…” He made a subtle gesture to Amelia who was talking softly with Ada. The eldest Shelby wanted to mention about how bad Tommy had it for Amelia. It was blatantly obvious to everyone. But neither of them seemed to want to admit it. 

            Tommy tossed a twig into the fire mindlessly. “He’ll learn to keep his fucking mouth shut.” He mumbled.

            “Shelby!” Someone called.

            Arthur grinned and clapped his brother on the back. “Let’s go then.”

            “Tom?” Amelia looked worried when they stood up. “Where are you going?”

            “Gonna go fight, Mel. Tommy’s gonna show them Lees how to throw a good punch”

            “But…” Her stomach went into knots. “Maybe you could stay here and-”

            “Won’t be long, Mel,” Tommy promised.

            “Fine, then I’m coming.” She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders and followed them.

            “Not really for women.” Arthur tried to show opposition to the idea but Tommy didn’t seem to mind. Maybe if she saw him fight, she would know he could hold his own and she wouldn’t have to worry about the betting shop. No longer was he the stick-thin little teenager who was sometimes more bark than bite. No, he’d found his anger and learned to use it to his advantage.

                       The makeshift ring was lit by lanterns and nearby fires. A group was already forming to watch the show. The Lees were riling Will up who was already there, waiting for his opponent. But they all seemed to be in good nature, passing drinks and cigarettes, laughing, and cussing.

            Tommy pulled off his undershirt and handed it to Amelia to hold. She was a bit stunned to see he had a tattoo on his chest. The sun-like lines were certainly new as far as she was aware. But she didn’t mention the ink.

            Arthur was handing his brother a flask, Tommy downing the contents before ducking under the rope.

            The crowd of onlookers was a bit rowdy, pleased to see young blood fighting like real men. Bare knuckles, no weapons, how it was meant to be a Romani man. A good show of tradition.

            Amelia felt her palms start to sweat. Will was a good head taller than Tommy was and seemingly more muscular by his build.

            However, Arthur, standing beside her, looked less than concerned. “He’ll be alright, Mellie. He’s taken down bigger fuckers than this one.” He promised.

            Amelia had seen Tommy fight before, but the last time must’ve been when they were only thirteen. The wiry boy had a habit for picking fights and never staying down even when he was bleeding or had a broken bone. She never seemed to mind seeing him fight while they were in school. But seeing him in the ring with someone bigger than him, it made her stomach flip-flop.

            And Tommy drew out the suspension. He allowed Will to get in a couple of swings, but he dodged them. His size allowed him to be quicker and more agile on his feet. The two circled around each other, fists up by their faces. Will looked smug with himself, confident that he would win. On the other hand, Tommy had fire in his blue-eyes. He wasn't fighting to have a few laughs. 

            “Hit ‘im, Tommy!” Arthur roared after his brother dodged a couple more blows.

            Something changed in Tommy’s eyes as he threw a punch. Amelia could hear the blow land even over the boisterous crowd. She winced and ducked her head a bit. When had she ever been afraid to watch a fight? She must’ve egged on a few scuffles in her day. Goading Tommy to kick in the teeth of the school bully. But when Will landed a punch and she saw Tommy’s head jerk back, she cringed and hid her face in Arthur’s sleeve.

            She could still hear the contact of punches, the sound of the men spurring them on, and the grunts from Will and Tommy as they fought. But she couldn’t bear to watch it.  

            It only took a few minutes before someone was shouting.“Oi, oi! Get ‘im off!”

            “Tom, c’mon, that’s enough!” Arthur moved from Amelia and got into the ring.

            She looked up and saw Tommy on top of Will, pummeling his face. Arthur ripped his brother off.

            "Got fucking devils in them. Those fucking Shelbys are rabid." Someone nearby remarked.

             "Aye, get it from their father. Murder in their blood."

             "Do not let me hear you talking about her again." Tommy threatened in Shelta before he finally let his brother steer him away from the ring. He spat on the ground, leaving the Lees to help an injured Will off the ground. 

            Coated with a sheen of sweat, Tommy was breathing hard. Even in the dim light, Amelia could assess the damage. It seemed Will had taken the brunt of the fight. Tommy only walked away with a bloody lip, a bruise forming on his jaw, and some dirt sticking to his torso.

            “Go wash off and calm the fuck down,” Arthur ordered before heading back toward the camp.

  ~~~~~~~~~~         

            Amelia followed Tommy to the river so he could wash the blood and dirt away. She lingered behind as he knelt down on the bank and splash cold water over him.

            “What did you say to him?” She wondered.

            “Nothing.” Tommy shook the water from his hair and wiped his hands over his face.

            “Well, you said something, Tom.”

            He stood and took his shirt back, using it to dry off a bit. “It was nothing.” He said again.

            They stood in silence for a bit. Music still hung in the air as the night wore on. There was an uproar from the crowd, signaling the start of another boxing match.

            Curious, Amelia stepped toward him and splayed her fingers out over his tattoo, following the direction of the lines. “This is new.”

            Tommy felt like his skin was on fire even after the cold douse of water. He couldn’t find the words for a long moment, simply watching her slender fingers trailing over the inked lines. “I-uh…you can’t tell Pol about it.” He tried to hide his stammer. “She’ll fucking kill me.”

            Amelia laughed softly and withdrew her hand. “Alright.” She agreed. “Your secret is safe with me.”                    

            He smiled and threw on the shirt to conceal the tattoo. “C’mon.” He murmured and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​ @biba3434​ @kimmietea​ @karmezii​ @enrapturedbythemoon​ @vampgirl1997​

Tag list: @shelbyblinded​

Masterpost

PB Masterlist

[chiauve]

True North - 1

Captain Enrico Marini entered the STARS Alpha Team office with to the usual casual greeting and a couple dramatic gasps of horror from Redfield and Frost.

“Wesker busy?” he asked Barry.

“His door’s open.”

“Oh no, they’re colluding,” Frost hissed at Redfield and Valentine.

Wesker, hearing the antics, stepped out of his office, swilling apathetically low paper cup of coffee. “Yes, we are. Survival and rescue training out in the mountains next weekend, you know that.”

Barry sat up, hand raising like he was a student in school, “Wesker, I can’t make it, I...”

“It’s not your daughter’s birthday, I checked. Nice try.”

“Worth a shot.”

“But it is my daughter’s birthday!”

“Shut up, Chris. Anyway, I expect all your gear ready and up to standard and I swear to god, Brad, if your pistol starts jamming again because you didn’t properly clean it...”

Wesker let the threat hang and Brad tried to slide behind his computer, out of view.

“Otherwise,” Wesker waved them all away, “I have nothing left for you all today, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Alpha gave a round of ‘good nights’ and ‘see ya’s and began packing up for the day or settled back to whatever they were working on. While always on call, when not on missions the STARS officers kept semi-regular hours on rotation, and otherwise came and went as work required. They’d trickle out on their own. Enrico followed Wesker into his office to the sound of Vickers plaintively explaining to Cris that he did clean his gun, and had no idea why it was jamming so bad. He shut the door.

Wesker slung another office chair out from the corner to Enrico before sitting in his own. Enrico accepted it, shoving aside the regular wood Underling Chair. As vice captain he had access to The Nice Chair; perks of the job. He sat down with a sigh and stretched out his legs.

“It’s like wrangling children,” Wesker said, tossing his empty paper cup into the trash.

“You know, if you treated your team like actual adults you wouldn’t have that problem. That’s why Bravo doesn’t give me headaches.”

“Yes well, I have to get my power trips where I can.”

Enrico rolledhis eyes and sat forward, regarding the mess on Wesker’s desk. Maps of the mountain trails outside Raccoon City, a few permits, scribbled outlines of required materials and remaining paperwork, and Enrico’s own typed up tasks and trials STARS was to undergo in the field. Wesker was in charge, as always, but survival was Enrico’s specialty and the Alpha captain was allowing him to direct the show, for the most part.

Looking at the paperwork and required reports for Chief Irons, Enrico never envy him that part of the job.

“Do we have a victim for the rescue mission yet?” he asked.

“Irons denied my attempts to get a citizen,” Wesker’s lip curled in disgust at the man’s name. Chief Irons wasn’t a popular man in the RPD but Wesker had a heightened distaste of him. Enrico was sure that if he had to deal with the chief more than he already did he’d probably want to murder him in his sleep too.

Wesker continued, “I was hoping to get an unknown this time, but with that out my last attempt is Redfield’s sister.”

“Oh?”

“She’s supposed to be paying a visit. He sometimes brings her down to the station, and if so I was hoping to convince her to play victim. She seemed the type to embrace that kind of thing, and who doesn’t enjoy hassling their brother?”

“I didn’t know you had siblings.”

“I don’t, not really. Anyway, if she doesn’t show up I guess it’s you or me again, since Brad and Dewey will be CASEVAC this time.”

“Flip you for it?”

Wesker shrugged and pulled out a quarter. “Heads or tails?” He flicked it and the coin arced, spinning through the air.

“Top.”

Wesker arched a pale brow at him as the coin hit the desk and bounced to the floor. He picked it up. “So it is.”

“Well that’s one thing settled.” He turned the map towards him, looking over the red and blue pen lines tracing trails through the mountains. “You still set on the southern trail route?”

“Most hikers and campers use the lake trails. I want everyone to familiarize themselves with them.”

“Sure, but putting everyone out of their element would make for better training. Also the lake’s frozen over this time of year.”

“Precisely, I’d like to focus there. And should anything actually happen the copters can land in the open camping spaces.”

“I still think mountain rescue on the north trails is better time spent, but you’re the boss.”

“Yes, I am.” Wesker paused, peering at his office door and listening. “I’m sorry, Enrico, I’ve been thoughtless. Would you like a coffee?”

“The real stuff or the black pipe water?”

“From my supply, of course.”

“Sure.”

Wesker nodded and stood. He slid some of the outlines towards him, “Feel free to add anything. I’ll be right back.”

Enrico had read through it all already, but now he could focus on the south trail specifics. Moreover, Wesker was very good at his job, but this was Enrico’s element and the STARS captain relied on his experience. With Wesker playing victim, that also meant Enrico was going to essentially be on his own on directing the teams. Wesker was in the perfect position to observe and grade their performance, but he’d leave the herding the proverbial cats to the vice captain.

Which wasn’t so hard a job, despite their joking. STARS was made up of the best, and when on mission or training, everyone was professional to the last. They knew their jobs, knew their skills; training was for keeping those skills sharp.

The door opening and clicking shut heralded Wesker’s return and he placed a mug of coffee into Enrico’s waiting hand. The Bravo captain regarded the mug with incredulous eyes. It read World’s Best Dad, but “dad” was heavily scribbled out in permanent marker and replaced with CAPTAIN.

“Uh...”

“Valentine hasn’t learned the art of sucking up too well yet.”

“This is from Jill?” Enrico was not expecting that.

“A bit Freudian, isn’t it? Maybe she did it on purpose, I haven’t pinpointed her type of humor yet.”

“Maybe it was a dare from the others.”

“I didn’t consider that,” Wesker mused, “It’s likely.”

Enrico shrugged and took a long sip of the burning liquid. Dark, bitter, but in a proper coffee way, unlike the stuff in the break room. “So...?”

“Everyone’s gone home,” Wesker said, gathering up the paperwork.

Enrico folded the maps and passed them and his mug of coffee to the captain. “I won the toss.”

“Yes, you did.” Placing the whole stack up on the bookshelf, Wesker began to walk around the desk.

Enrico surprised himself with how fast he stood, grabbing Wesker’s shoulders and shoving him against the wall, attacking the STARS captain’s jawline and mouth with his own. His hands slid down to Wesker’s sides, pulling at the material of his shirt.

Wesker chuckled in his ear. “I should give you my coffee more often, if this is the result..”

[starringemiliaclarke]

Press: Emilia Clarke interview: the Game of Thrones star on leaving Westeros behind to tackle the West End

Emilia Clarke interview: the Game of Thrones star on leaving Westeros behind to tackle the West End

Clarke, who now stars in Chekhov’s The Seagull, tells Louis Wise that the HBO fantasy series made her feel like a ‘small cog in a big machine’

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PHOTOSHOOTS & OUTTAKES > 2020 > 2020 The Sunday Times

MAGAZINES > 2020 > 2020 The Sunday Times Culture Magazine – March 15

  The Times: Emilia Clarke says she views herself primarily as a stage actress, which is a little weird when you consider that she has only appeared in one play professionally before, and it was an absolute turkey. Or, as the 33-year-old star of Game of Thrones says, in her jolly British way, it was “terrible, awful, awful! Bad! That was a bad show!” The piece was Breakfast at Tiffany’s on Broadway in 2013, and it’s safe to say Clarke’s Holly Golightly did not enchant. “I’ll never forget, someone said to me after press night the only thing they liked was the cat.”

If Clarke relays this with surprising good humour, this is part temperament, part experience. For one thing, in person she is relentlessly chipper and pukka. Whereas on HBO’s mega-fantasy series Game of Thrones, she grew in stature as Daenerys Targaryen, a still, dignified stateswoman (until that end), in real life she is a goofy motormouth chatterbox, always eager to catch the joke at her expense. And she is no stranger to what we shall politely call “the mixed review”. She has known some drubbings, whether for that Broadway show, or films such as Last Christmas or Terminator Genisys, or indeed the final series of GoT, which — euphemism alert! — didn’t quite turn out the way everybody wanted.

Luckily she never reads reviews. “Because if it’s really, really good, someone will tell you. And if it’s really, really bad — some f***** will tell you.”

We are meeting today, though, at a rehearsal space in south London, because she is chucking herself back into the fray. For only her second stage appearance, Clarke is going straight into the West End, in Chekhov’s The Seagull, and taking on the prestigious role of Nina. If she is nervous, she’s handling it in the usual way, which is to say with huge blasts of good cheer.

Two clichés about meeting starsis that they are a) smaller than you thought, but b) their features are stronger than expected. Both are true of Clarke. She is tiny, proper Kylie-tiny, nicely decked out in a gauzy beige-cream knit, some fashionably frayed jeans and pointy, well-worn white cowboy boots. Yet her eyes and grin look extra big: if she stays still, she’s a dainty doll, but as soon as she moves it’s Looney Tunes. To be clear, she never stays still.

This energy feels helpful, as we have a lot to pack in. After all, Clarke’s past decade has been particularly wild. Not only did she rocket suddenly to fame in GoT (until then, her only screen credit was an episode of Doctors), she also lost her father to cancer in 2016 and, as she revealed in 2019, had suffered a sequence of brain haemorrhages in her early twenties, just as the madness of GoT was kicking off.

In private, she experienced various exhausting surgeries at the same time as becoming one of pop culture’s favourite mascots, scrutinised relentlessly on a moral, artistic and very physical level. She recalls being in hospital recovering from an operation and picking up a newspaper. “I was, like, ‘I’m going to see if I can read it,’” she says. “And I was, like, ‘Oh my God, there’s a review of the show. And, oh God, they are just talking about how fat my arse is.’”(Which is the last review she read.)

All of which brings us to the elephant, or dragon, in the room. Over seven seasons, Daenerys, aka Khaleesi, Mother of Dragons, had one hell of an arc, going from weak dynastic pawnto all-conquering queen, a kind of Catherine the Great with sub-Barbarella hair. And then, oops! Daenerys, thrilled at almost achieving her goal of ruling the Seven Kingdoms, lost the plot, turned into a psychotic dead-eyed tyrant, massacring a whole city and essentially going the full Pol Pot. She was then abruptly bumped off by her lover-cum-nephew, Jon Snow, and a worldwide fanbase stopped and went: what?

For Clarke, it had been a hard secret to keep — she had known the ending long in advance. She admits she is still processing it all.

“When the show did end, it was like coming out of a bunker. Everything felt really strange. Then obviously for it to have the backlash it did …” Did she expect it? She slows down, a rare occurrence. “I knew how I felt when I first read it, and I tried, at every turn, not to consider too much what other people might say, but I did always consider what the fans might think — because we did it for them, and they were the ones who made us successful, so … it’s just polite, isn’t it?”

It’s clear Clarke is caught between her close friendship with the series’ creators, David Benioff and DB Weiss, and her deep awareness of what most fans wanted. In fact, she first suggests that it’s the news wot done it.

“I do think that the global temperature, how much horrific news there is consistently, goes a way to explain the enormity of the fans’ outrage,” she argues. “Because people are going, finally, here’s something I can actually see and understand and get some control back over … and then when that turns, and you don’t like what they’ve done …”

Hmm. It’s a nice theory, but with Daenerys we were just denied a happy ending, right? She nods quietly. “Yeah.” So did not getting that also make her sad? She tries to explain that “as an actor” it was actually all “a gift”, but eventually the tornado of diplomacy peters out. “Yeah, I felt for her. I really felt for her. And yeah, was I annoyed that Jon Snow didn’t have to deal with something?” She lets us out an exasperated laugh. “He got away with murder — literally.”

She also eventually agrees with the critique that the final season condensed far too much in far too little time (“We could have spun it out for a little longer”) and that it could simply have had more dialogue. “It was all about the set pieces,” she agrees. “I think the sensational nature of the show was, possibly, given a huge amount of airtime because that’s what makes sense.”

Is she at least happy it ended when it did? “I mean, ‘happy’ is a funny word. It’s a strong word. Again, the show was so big. I was a small cog in a very, very, very big machine …”

What she means, though, is that she actually liked this. The show provided a routine, a family, something to fall back on every year; it also gave her experience. “I very much feel my career is something that’s happened to me, as opposed to the other way around,” she says. But she can see that being a cog has its limits, as doesforever having to cater to fans and, yes, to the press. “Doing a show so many people had opinions about doesn’t serve your creativity on any level.”

All of which explains why she is doing this Seagull with Jamie Lloyd, the director who just landed raves for his Cyrano with James McAvoy. And, yes, although she knows it’s “hilarious”, she somehow does “identify closer with theatre”. This is mostly to do with her dad, who was a theatre engineer; her mother is a vice-president in marketing for a management consultancy firm. Clarke and her brother had an idyllic-sounding childhood in Oxfordshire. Inspired by her father’s job, she always wanted to be an actress, apparently from the age of three. “I think of him whenever I’m walking through the West End,” she says. “My dad is everywhere in the theatre, 100%.”

She says this happily; I get the impression she hasn’t finished grieving, she’s just moved on to a better, celebratory phase. How would he feel about her playing Nina? “I think he would be nervous for me,” she says with a chuckle. It is, she knows, a big role: Nina, the aspiring actress whose dreams of fame are dashed, but who plugs away regardless. “I was never your Nina at drama school, that’s for sure,” says Clarke. “I wasn’t really a favourite [there], at all.”

Instead, she got parts like Jewish grannies, or “a down-and-out, pissed-off, washed-up prostitute”. But did she always want to be Nina or Juliet? “Well, of course I did. Oh my God, yeah. So I’m in no doubt there’s still some of that in me where I’m like: ‘Oh my God, guys, check it out! Finally she got there.’”

Clarke does like to cast herself as an underdog, although, thankfully, she does seem mostly to be aware that she is coming from a place of privilege. By the end of GoT she was reportedly paid $500,000 an episode. Is money a concern any more? “I am careful,” she says. “I’m a lot more careful now than I was.” She has a lovely house in north London with a bar in the garden. She can pick jobs for their artistic content first and foremost (“I want to work with an auteur!”). So yes, she knows she has it good, which is why she waited several years before revealing her brain trauma.

“I didn’t want to turn it into this celebrity sob story. I didn’t want people’s pity or ‘Oh, poor little rich girl, your successful life ain’t good enough?’” She is now happy she did it. “It’s done a huge amount of healing for me, being able to open up about it.” Her health status is “beautiful” now. “I was match-fit six weeks after the second surgery [in 2013],” she clarifies. “But mentally …”

On the other end of the spectrum, her fame has made something else hard: dating. “I am single right now …” She says with a smile. “Dating in this industry is interesting. I have a lot of funny anecdotes, a lot of stuff I can say at a fun dinner.” She was last seen in 2018 with a film director, and before that she was linked to Seth MacFarlane and James Franco. Does she mostly date fellow actors, because that’s how the industry works? “I was, and now I’m not,” she says — more smiles.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say I’ve completely sworn off them, but I do think actor relationships that are successful are few and far between, and you have to have a ton of trust.” Now and then her friends tell her to try Raya, the dating app that is supposedly for more exclusive celeb types. When she looks at it, though, “it’s just models. What am I going to do there?”

In short, everything about Clarke’s life is still monumentally weird, but she is doing a good job of pretending it’s not. After the play, she has “any one of nine projects that could go at the end of this year, and I have no idea which one will win”. A lot, she announces, are “dark”. Would she do fantasy again? “I think, if I did, it would be me having a giggle,” she says. I take this to mean her doing a send-up, a kind of Extras take on GoT, but no: “I want to do something absolutely stupid and silly, like, you know, The Avengers or whatever. Something where I got to have a giggle with mates.”

I’ve never thought of the Marvel mega-franchise as a downtime laff with pals, but that’s the level Clarke is operating on. I suppose it’s a pretty good happy ending.

The Seagull, Playhouse, London WC2, until May 30

Press: Emilia Clarke interview: the Game of Thrones star on leaving Westeros behind to tackle the West End was originally published on Enchanting Emilia Clarke | Est 2012

[abalonetea]

Heyo! So I'm like suuuuuuuuper lost on like all of your WoW posts lol. Would you mind giving me a basic run down of your characters pretty please?

hey! of course! i’ll be honest, i’m still making and fleshing out a lot of the character, but this is a pretty quick and basic run-down of what I've got so far! thank you for the lovely ask!

this is missing a few of the characters that aren’t super fleshed out yet, and yes, this is my largest cast out of the CHP series!

_-_-_

Wings of War is set during the early 1970′s, in an alternate history that allows for some advanced technology, the inclusion of Intent, and the addition of wings being a natural part of some human’s forms. 

it follows four teams (fluctuating numbers between five and eight members at various points) who have been hired by the Guiding Star Corporation. their job is to “develop advancements in technology, human endurance, and product testing” which, as it turns out, means that they fight to the death in endless matches, brought back to life using what’s known as a Respawn Machine.

the teams (north, south, east, and west) are shipped between ten different bases, scattered across several different countries. this represents the ability to pick different maps in most fighting, pvp, or 1st person shooter games. 

on each teams, there are specific roles that the GSC are looking to have filled. each team has a “building” class, for example, which creates the titles of Builder, Maker, Techie, and Engineer. the “sneak” class consists of Assassin, Spy, Rouge, and Thief. each class can only be filled by someone with a specific set of traits, which results in, essentially, total reliance on GSC.

two teams have wings, and two teams don’t. i’m still working on filling out all the roles and creating all the characters, but here’s a basic run-down of what I have so far!

_-_-_

Adele Adler - the handler, the woman in charge. She runs relay between all four teams, doling out missions, handling issues that arrive on and off base, and acting as go between for the Teams and the Council. she’s supposed to keep her distance between them, and had managed that for all the teams before now, but...the men are growing on her! she has a surprising soft spot for most of them, and finds herself more and more willing to turn blind eyes on their shenanigans.

-

Jeremy - West Team’s “fast class”, this boy is a Speedster through and through. he has a short temper, a severe anger problem, and briefly made a living running drugs out in Boston. his weapon of choice is a chunk of wood with some sharp nails in it, and he can hit harder than you would think. runs his mouth a lot but is the only person on his team with any ability to understand the words take care of yourself.

Joshua - West Team’s Sharpshooter, and originally from New Zealand. lives in a camper just inside of the perimeters of the base. anti-social and with no interest in changing that, he took on the job because there’s a very large bounty on his head that Adele promised to get rid of.

Feliciano - the Rouge of the West team, he tries very hard to make himself look proper and put together but usually fails. had a bad reputation going when he first started, because he was pretty sick and just Not Feeling Socializing, but it’s easy enough to see that he’s a good guy these days. a former bodyguard.

Lucas - the Techie, and originally from Sao Paulo. he loves sugar sweet coffee, and has a prosthetic leg that’s fueled by Intent and a rare mineral. a technical engineer, meaning he uses Intent to make new technological advances. can talk for hours if you hit a subject that he likes.

Deiter - the Doctor of West team. he’s a good man, though he tends to have extremely manic episodes that are not helped by the incredible amount of upper’s he can often be seen taking. lost everything when the city he lived in was blown up during WW2. fiercely protective of his team-mates.

James - known as the General of the team. fought in WW2. suffered a severe head injury that still affects him today. a kind man with a lot of personality, and a love for animals. if you tell him something, he will likely forget it. don’t hold it against him, because he’s already doing that himself.

-

Tony - the Runner and local loudmouth of North team. you cannot pay this boy to be quiet, and he’s both stupid as a bag of bricks and also incredibly intelligent. from New York, where he had a lovely stint robbing the Italian mafia blind with his husband, Rizzo, until they were both shot up and picked up by Adele.

Rizzo - the Demolitions Expert of North team, and actually pretty adorable if you can get past the fact that he’s incredibly crass and has no filter between mind and mouth. Hopelessly in love with his husband, even if no one else realizes they’re married. he will burn water if you let him cook, so maybe best if you don’t.

Werner - the North team’s Medic. he’s absolutely batshit, but has a good heart. was running a black market ring in the country side when Adele found him, though he was originally from Oslo. couldn’t speak anything but German and Norwegian before coming to work for the GSC. has two pet rats.

Francois - served as a spy in WW2, and currently the North team’s Assassin. has a HEART based injury with a lot of the same symptoms as tuberculosis. was picked up by the GSC with an offer of as-of-unheard of medication. sardonic, and prone to cracking jokes that most of his team don’t pick up on.

Loto - the Archer, and a member of North team. from the Louisiana bayous, and great with a cross bow. has an old coonhound that sleeps in bed with him, but who Loto claims to hate. often forgets that he needs to actually go to the kitchen and get food, and that the food he needs is easily available.

 Braeburn - the Mechanic, and the longest running member of any of the active teams. has a prosthetic arm. really fond of sweet tea, and more idea of what’s going on than he’s willing to let on. bound up in so many contracts, it’s literally woven into his Intent.

-

Elias - the OG title, Soldier, and a member of South team. fought in WW2, where he briefly met Francois before being shipped to Poland. was discharged after being severely injured, and lived homeless on the streets for a while with BJ. originally from Canada but ended up in America during his discharge due to an error on his papers. suffers from brain tumors caused by extended exposure to Iradium in the war.

BJ - the Hurricane (class title will change, I just needed a placer, oops) of South team. left an abusive home at fifteen and has been on the streets since. took a contract with GSC to get Elias medical treatment. dyslexic, and often described by his team as “being a lot”. uses a steel pipe for his preferred weapon. loves talking and telling stories.

Olek - the Firepower of the team, literally. can probably punch you hard enough to get a KO, but fights with an Iradium powered flare-gun that does serious damage. from Russia, with a strict I won’t tell you anything about my past policy, and a bizarre fondness for bears. great at giving hugs when you’re down.

Jakob - the Maker of the team. has a highly advanced prosthetic eye. losing the vision in his other eye. the guy who picked up BJ and Elias. has a real morality struggle between the job he does, and his own views on Mercy. probably needs a hug more than he lets on.

-

Scout - the Scout of East team, and yes, he does think that’s funny. grew up the oldest of six kids, with a single mother. started doing deals behind the schoolhouse to bring in some extra cash, and it got out of hand when he got older. has severe ADHD. can and will count cards if you play poker with him. no common sense.

Jane - the Guard of East team. unofficially fought in WW2. a big softy, under all that gruffness. suffering from major hearing loss, and with the habit of virtually never taking off his helmet. a pretty shy guy, and any kindness sent his way will catch him off guard.

Christophe - the Spy of the team, he was drafted into the Korean War, where he served a grueling eight months before being attacked by military trained dog-horses and sent home. a chronic insomniac who never settled back into civilian life, and has an abysmally childish sense of humor.

Ollie - the Arsonist of the team, he was living homeless in Daytona before Seamus found him. has horrible decision making skills and a pretty rough past, and considers the base home near instantly. his self-care skills could use some boosting, and he tries really hard to not mess things up.

Seamus - technically the Gunner of the group, but he would rather just make a lot of bombs and use them instead. missing an eye, and has a lot of self-worth issues and a pretty heavy accent that his speech impediment doesn’t help. a drunk, but having Ollie around’s been proving to be good for him.

 - 

[jedishampoo]

Snippet

Just to prove I’m actually writing ... though I can’t promise I’ll finish right away. Heh, I write thousands of words super-fast and then spend all my time editing and tweaking and wordcrafting and smoothing out and trying to get the tone just right before I write more. This one still hasn’t found its tone, actually.  It was too plodding because I’m obviously clumsy at angst, and now it’s got silly bits (surprise surprise).   Plus I’m figuring out exactly what I wanna do with the sex scene.  What angle do I want to give it? I’m thinking something tropey or itsy-bitsy kinky like possessiveness or whatever. Any thoughts? What vanilla kinks do you like in your UKUS?

***

“Know ye can afford the good stuff, so that’s what yer gettin’,” the bartender, Alistair, teases, but he comes across with a couple fingers’ worth of twenty-year-old, so Arthur laughs.

“Right.  Posh drunk,” he says, with a grin as weak as his joke.

 Yeah, he can afford it.  Twisted Heart was too real, too close, was meant for a deep track.  Arthur’s vanity track.  But he crafted it too catchy, and instead the label dropped it as a single.  And there he is, can buy anything he likes.  A car. A huge fucking bed for fucking.  A proper fridge, and cases of French champagne, and as many of what Francis calls “honey blond(e)s” as he quite well pleases.  The car and the fridge full of champagne will languish unused, tonight.  The bed will drown Arthur when he crawls into it.

He’s a big-time rock star on vacation, ‘s’truth.   He and his mates’ve just finished an eight-month tour of Europe, North America and Japan and they planned these few weeks away from each other before crawling back to the studio to start their next record.  And really, after months on buses and seeing the dingy backstages of every major city worth seeing, a few weeks at home to spend with family or hang out at whatever pub they wish sounds wonderful. Problem is. Problem.  Thingy.  Arthur is thirty-si—thirty-seven, and has no one to come home to.

Doesn’t have to be that way.  If he can rouse his aging arse from the stool, he can wander over, chat up those likely looking birds over by the unburning, empty fireplace—

“Oy.  ‘Ere comes trouble,” Alistair sounds a wee bit alarmed.

Arthur rouses himself to turn and look.  The air already in his lungs chokes him, burns in the corners of his eyes. The original, the most precious, the absolute worst honey-blond that should never be here sidles up to stand next to him at the bar.

“Hi, Arthur,” Alfred says.

***

[asktailikku]

While I know that Thanksgiving is nearly a week and a half away, my local radio stations have decided to take the opportunity to play Christmas songs, with the big offender being FM 93.9 WLIT.

But rather than rant about how they are jumping the gun, I would like to take this opportunity to talk about two Disney holiday classics released on VHS and DVD on the this very day, five years apart from each other (eventually appearing on a 2-movie Blu-Ray), Mickey’s Once and Twice Upon a Christmas.

Please note that Mickey does not have such a candle in the film

Each of these films are a collection of stories starring Mickey and the gang, each dealing with the holiday hustle and bustle as well as the good warm feelings that make us feel merry.  The first one contains three stories while the second has five.

The first segment in Once Upon a Christmas is Donald Duck – Stuck on Christmas.  Despite his name being in the title, the story actually focusses on Huey, Dewey, and Louie.  As they spend Christmas Day, they are shocked to see it go by so quickly and wish upon the Evening Star for it to be Christmas every day.

I should bring up that the original “Christmas Every Day” story from 1892 was more of a what if scenario as if the year continued as normal, but every day was Christmas.  On paper this sounded like a good idea, to have it celebrated every day turns out to be a terrible idea as it ends up drying up the proper resources for Christmas.  By July in the story, people are more focussed on Christmas than they are the 4th of July.  And by autumn, people giving presents go from “Here you go, pal” to “Take this and f**k off!”  As it turned out, the endless Christmas celebration was nothing more than a dream.

Instead, the story borrows more from Groundhog Day starring Bill Murray.  In the film, Bill is stuck in a time loop that haunts him for what seems like centuries, waking up every morning on 2/2/1993.  Only until he undergoes some serious character development does he escape the loop.  In the Nephews’ case, this decades long loop serves as a punishment for them as they do not know the true meaning of Christmas.

It gets to a point where the boys have everything down and in what order, as follows:

Wake up

Open presents

Donald freaks out, drops breakfast on himself

Daisy, Scrooge, and “Aunt Gertie” (her only appearance) arrive

Go sledding

Eat dinner

Sing carols

Go to bed at 10:00 PM

Repeat the next day

Towards the end of the loops, the boys decide to spice things up, similar to Bill’s suicidal loops in the film.  First they ice bomb Chip’n’Dale as their Christmas morning reminder of them playing train was getting annoying.  Then they sent their RC car and plane after Donald before he sets foot in the living room.  When Gerty arrives for kisses, the boys arrive in scuba gear.  By dinner, the roasted turkey has been replaced with a live one, ticking Donald off, and wrecking the piano, cancelling carols.  After the turkey chase, the turkey ends up going up the chimney and in Santa’s outfit. It’s not so much the appearance of the turkey that’s hilarious, it’s the implication that Santa knew that the day was on repeat.  In an attempt to save face, the boys attempt to leave with their sleds, but then read the card that was attatched to one of them, a poem written by Scrooge about the true meaning of Christmas.  The next loop can be seen as something similar to Bill’s philanthropist loops in the film.

In this loop, the nephews use the Junior Woodchucks Guidebook to convert the sleds into a gift for Donald.  When morning comes, they give a bag of nuts to Chip’n’Dale.  They then make Donald breakfast and tell him that they need to wait until the family arrives.  By dinnertime, they eat ham instead of turkey, with the turkey eating with them.  The nephews then reveal their gift to Donald: a snowboat.  The loop ends with Donald and Daisy kissing under the mistletoe.

The next morning turns out to be Boxing Day as Donald wants to give his gift a try, only for it to fall apart as he goes down the hill.

The next segment is A Very Goofy Christmas, which is an original story with some elements of Miracle of 33rd Street and “Yes Virginia, There is a Santa Claus”.  Goofy and Max (in his very last appearance as a child) are writing letters to Santa and shoveling snow from their driveway and sidewalk.  Pete arrives and insists that “an old guy in a red suit cruising the whole world in one night using reindeer that fly” is practically impossible.  Despite this, Goofy wants to help his son beleive in Christmas magic and the spirit of Old St. Nick, as they have a Christmas Eve dinner with a neighboring poor family.  Dinner goes without a hitch, but then when Goofy tries to act as a department store Santa, things go haywire as Max feels betrayed.

Goofy decides that in order to cheer his son up, not just with Old Stuffed Bear, he’ll prove that Santa exists that night even if he has to stand out in the cold.  After two false alarms (a pug in jingle bells and Big Time Beagle attempting to rob from Pete), Goofy is the one that begins to doubt Santa’s existence and Max is the one that is willing to cheer him up, dressing as Santa like earlier that evening.  As Goofy follows his son up the chimney, they see Santa flying by and dropping Max’s gift into their hands.  Plus some well deserved Karma for Pete.  Max then decides to share his gift with one of the poor kids.

The final segment is a retelling of O. Henry’s classic tale of The Gift of the Magi.  In this version, Mickey has a harmonica without a case and Minnie has a pocket watch.  Both of them have the intention of getting a gift to compliment their treasure, a chain for the watch and a case for the harmonica.  Mickey’s job at Crazy Pete’s at first seems to be enough to get him the chain, but then when he helps a poor family with a smaller tree rather than a 10-ft Nova Scotia pine that Pete was trying to force upon them, Mickey’s paycheck is confiscated, but needless to say, karma bites Pete again as he accidentally sets his ten-footers ablaze.

On Minnie’s end, her job at Mortimer’s only ended with her getting a fruitcake from her tightwad of a boss (and this was the same Mortimer that has attempted being a casanova time and again, even if it means humiliating Mickey).  Back to Mickey, he participates in a toy drive held in the park to tide over until the Firehouse Five return from putting out the blaze at Crazy Pete’s.  The firecheif compliments Mickey’s harmonica skills and that its worth its weight in gold.  This gives Mickey the idea to trade his harmonica to get the chain.  With the chain in hand, Mickey and Minnie decide to open gifts, only to learn that they traded their treasures to get the other’s gift.

In my head canon, they receive a surprise visitor, the shopkeeper who gives them their original treasures back, claiming them to be new presents altogether.  This is partially based on versions of the story where the shopkeeper is the main character and oversees the exchanges between treasures and gifts, as seen on an episode of Sesame Street with Gordon playing this to Ernie and Bert.

The movie ends with Mickey and the gang singing a medley of carols (Jingle Bells, Deck the Halls, We Wish You a Merry Christmas).

The first segment on the second movie, now done in CG, is “Belles on Ice”.  This segment was partially inspired by Michelle Kwan’s performance at the Salt Lake City Winter Olympics and her performance as Mulan in “Reflections on Ice”.  The plot involves Minnie and Daisy having a figure skating duel that escalates out of control, with the two of them realizing that their egos got the best of them.  Original concepts for the segment included a parade float contest, a store window display competition and a cooking show bake-off.

The next segment is “Christmas: Impossible”  The segment begins with Scrooge having Donald, Daisy, and the Nephews over at his mansion (with its own zip-code) to celebrate the holidays.  On Christmas Eve, the nephews cause a ruckus, which leads to Scrooge talking to them about cleaning up their act if they ever want to get on Santa’s Nice List, of which he is not.

I should bring up that there was one thing he always wnated from Santa but never got: a set of bagpipes.

A little problem with that Mr. McDee, you made yourself a set before you emigrated from Scotland to America and even used it against Ma Beagle.  And of course these pipes predate the Number One Dime.

Anyways, with this plothole out of the way.

The nephews decide that the best way to get on the nice list is to head to Santa’s Workshop at the North Pole and write their names on it.  After finding the list room locked and getting the key from Santa’s office (the original script called for an ice cave with a hungry polar bear swimming about), they are about to head in there and set things right for themselves when they lose the key in a pile of fake keys belonging to a key themed toy

In when brainstorming ideas about the toy in question, the animators pitched at least ten ideas, nine of which are seen above.  My personal favorites being Key-to-My-Heart Kate, Dog Pound Pals, and Who-Dini the Owl.  The winner of the contest was Jailbreak Bob only because of Jeff Bennet’s demo reel as him (“Lemme out, see?”) proved to be the coolest.

One thing leads to another as the boys accidentally gum up the progress made by the elves, almost ruining Christmas, with the elves comparing this to the “Sleigh Crash of ’64”.  The nephews decide to help fix this mess and escape back to the list room, keyless (Santa took it back having assumed to have lost it), but end up sneaking into the list room behind the janitor.

Pulling up Duckburg on the monitors, they find that they are indeed not on the list, but instead write Scrooge’s name on there.  The next morning, they find tons of presents for them, including a Jailbreak Bob (“Be good this year, see?  And have a Merry Christmas!”), the Idiot’s Guide to Manners, and a new set of bagpipes for Scrooge, ending the segment with Santa sending a letter saying that “there’s always room on the Nice List for those who think of other first,” and Scrooge playing Deck the Halls on his new pipes, very badly.

The third segment is more or less a montage called “Christmas Maximus”.  This more or less follows Max (now in his 20’s) and his new girlfriend Mona, spending the holidays at Goofy’s after leaving from college, with Goofy trying hard not to embarass Max, and eventually strengthening the bond between the two of them.  In a rather interesting move, Mona is voiced by Kellie Martin, who voiced Roxanne in the original Goofy Movie.

Next is Donald’s Gift, and I can tell you one thing from listening to “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” over and over again.

Donald is not amused.  All he wants is some peace and quiet and a piping cup of hot chocolate.  Daisy and the nephes arrive to take them shopping at Mousy’s, but Donald doesn’t want any of it.  But he is forced to regardless.

Donald finds a cocoa stand and gets a big cup of it.  This is where things get wierd as every noise he hears throughout the department store is in sync to “We Wish You a Merry Christmas”, culminating in him ending up in the black-lit display window playing the same song.  In his rage, he destroys it but is shamed upon by his family and thrown out by security (“Fer cryin’ out loud, where’s yer Christmas spirit!”)

Trudging home, Donald comes across an uncoordinated group of carollers trying to sing the song.  Donald takes over conducting and together, they produce a beautiful harmony that draws in all the townsfolk.  Soon the crowd draws in Daisy and the boys, who see Donald finally showing some Christmas spirit. Donald apologizes and joins in on the singing, making sure to sing from his heart.

The final segment is Mickey’s Doggone Christmas.  In this story, Mickey is trying to set up a party with Pluto, but Pluto accidentally causes a powersurge which not only ruins the set up that Mickey had, but gets him sent to the dog house.  Mickey then heads out on his own to fix the damage in time for the party, all while dealing with a crazy snowplow truck.  Pluto decides that enough is enough and runs away, taking the next train behind his backyard.

The train ends up taking Pluto to the North Pole, where he sees Santa’s reindeer training for the big night.  The main two deer of the special are Dunder and Blitzen (voiced by Jeff Bennet and Jim Cummings respectively).  As Pluto is not wearing his collar, Dunder decides to adopt him as “Murray,” as in “Murry Christmas” *faceplam*

Mickey returns home to find that Pluto ran off and calls his friends to rally a search party.  “Murray” meanwhile is hacing fun with the team, but soon feels homesick.  Mickey meanwhile has been handing out fliers of his missing bloodhound, and soon takes his request up with a mall Santa, revealed to be the real deal and from “Christmas:  Impossible”.  Santa tells Dunder and Blitzen that Pluto is homesick, and is prepared to take him back to Mickey.

The movie ends with Mickey and Pluto reunited as the gang arrives in the snowplow truck.  As it happened, when Minnie heard Mickey’s call, she made calls to the rest of the gang, with Scrooge buying a snowplow company to aid in the search, Goofy happened to be the running gage snowplow.  All together, they sing the medley from the previous film as the film comes to a close.  This ending seems to imply that this was going to be the last part of an ongoing story where Mickey and Pluto were setting up for the party and each decoration brought up a different memory, leading into the stories.  This would also help explain why the “Angry Man” appears in each segment, as well as the elves and Dunder mentioning the Sleigh Crash of ’64.

All in all, despite what Rotten Tomatoes may think, these two movies are the perfect holiday experience for fans old and new as well as friends and family alike.

Mickey’s Nth Upon a Christmas While I know that Thanksgiving is nearly a week and a half away, my local radio stations have decided to take the opportunity to play Christmas songs, with the big offender being FM 93.9 WLIT.

[tirsaroundtheworld]

New Zealand II - North Island

After a very smooth, beautiful and just 4 hours long ferry ride, during which we spotted some super beautiful Hector’s dolphins 😍, we arrived in windy Wellington in the late afternoon. The general consensus we draw from all the things we heard North Island was that it isn’t as beautiful as the South Island, but that it is more ‘alive’ with the majority of the NZ population living there. Excited to find out about all the differences between the islands for ourselves, we took off for a last month in this fantastic country. These were our highlights:

# After a short drive from the port we found ourselves right in the middle of the first proper city that we’d seen in months! Charming, lively and windy Wellington - we loved it! We took a few days to wander around the various shopping streets, take a cute cable car up to the lush botanical gardens with their stunning city views, have long conversations over tea in the sun, walk along the harbour, spend hours in the fantastic Te Papa museum learning all about Maori culture and natural history, eat out and try local beers. Truly a lovely city, just lacking one thing; campsites. 😂 We spent our nights in the super exposed parking lot of the museum, right next to the harbour, where we had to brush our teeth behind a tree and almost blew away during the night. Gotta love campinglife!

# Lucky as we are, we went from crappy campers to proper flashpackers when we changed Wellington for Raumati. We had met a very lovely couple back on the South Island, who invited us to come and stay in their brilliant holiday home with sunset ocean view. Ohhh the comfort of an actual house!! 😍 After over 2 months of sleeping in our van we had almost forgotten how easy it can be to go to the toilet in the middle of the night and to get dressed when you can stand up and move around. 😂 And apart from the pleasure of this luxury, it was very very nice to meet up with these amazing people again. Such a big shout out to Dana and PJ! ✨

# Sad not to be able to stay longer, we had to quickly make our way to New Plymouth. For good cause though: we had to cheer for the All Blacks! Covered in ponchos and cheering despite the rain, we watched them play against the Argentinian Pumas in a very exciting match. After the game, we danced and drank to their victory with our new German friends, we hadn’t seen that much excitement in all of New Zealand! What a great experience, rugby truly gets a kiwi going!

# From New Plymouth we went west, following the coast. On our way to Whanganui, we admired the tranquility and beautiful landmarks dotting the ‘surf highway’ (no surfers to be found this time of year though). Especially nice was the Cape Egmont lighthouse at the tip of the land, where Mr. Abel Tasman first spotted ‘Nieuw Zeeland’ back in the day. When we reached Whanganui, we turned inland and followed the Whanganui river, New Zealand’s longest, deep into the lushy Whanganui National Park. Spoiled by all the sincere beauty we had seen on the South Island, this park did not impress us much. We did have our first outdoor picnic in the sunshine though, with the best view of the day! 👍

# The continuous bad weather chased us away from the west to the east, where we first got to Hastings and got completely hammered with a young German couple - a true change of scenery! 😂 Taking it slow from there, we made our way up to Te Mata peak from where we had the best view over all the Bay of Plenty, we soaked in the summery sun while wearing shorts (yes shorts!!!😍), Lodewijk got the worst haircut in human history in Napier, we walked through old native forrest chasing waterfalls, we drove under NZ’s oldest and highest train viaduct, we explored the rocky coast line of Mahia peninsula and we visited traditional Maori Marae community buildings before the rain caught up on us in Gisborne.

# Doomed to be getting wet, we cut off the easternmost cape and headed to the north coast. Dodging the showers we walked to Kohi point, overlooking the beautiful coastline and climbing down to beautifully deserted bays. Following the coast to the north we stopped in Maketu for its famous pies (and damn they were good!!) and in Mt Maunganui to climb its mount for yet another incredible view. In Tauranga we got what we were waiting for; more rain. According to the locals, this was the worst winter they've ever had. Great timing! 👍

# The next stop was Rotorua, known for its location right on an active volcanic zone. The city itself is just like all the others (that really do look a lot alike), but all around there is steam, boiling lakes and eggy smell. It's an interesting place to see how the many Maori that are still there keep their ancient practices and culture that evolved around making use of the steam and thermal heat alive. Our highlight was a visit to the Wai-o-Tapu Thermal Wonderland, which, true to its name, really is a wonderland of a variety of natural phenomenons. Along a walk of just over 3 km, we were completely blown away by the various steaming pits, dazzling land splits, moonlike surfaces, bubbling pools, sissing lakes and boiling mud. But what made it truly wonderful were the many many colours of this crazy, stunning landscape; from pinkish rocks to yellow cliffs to bright orange ridges to neon green lakes. And the Champagne Pool really bubbled! 🌈 Not your everyday scenery!

# Just under Rotorua is Taupo, another same same but different city that is beautifully located at the side of New Zealand's largest lake; Lake Taupo. We enjoyed a long lakeside walk, watching golfers trying to hit a little island just off shore and sailers seemingly sail off the end of the world at the other side of the lake. There are some great natural hot pools in Taupo too, great for a rainy day (or the 47383th)! 🏊‍♀️

# When we finally spotted some sunshine on the forecast we rushed to Tongariro National Park to do the famous Tongariro Alpine Crossing that we'd been waiting for! This 19,something km crossing is supposedly NZ's most rewarding day walks and passes Mt Ngāuruhu, otherwise known as Mt Doom from the Lord of the Rings movies! It is common to start at the one end and arrange for transportation back from the other end, but because of the snowy winter conditions, our unequippedness and the lady at the information center's lack of faith we expected not to be able to make it over the top and thus have to return prematurely. Not less enthusiastic we started the crossing, that indeed was stunning from the moment we left the parking lot, walking and climbing through lava, snow and gravelly ridges and before we knew it we were at the highest point! Easy as pie! A big gust of wind blew away the clouds and granted us the most amazing views all around us over the interesting volcanic terrain, the frozen but emerald lakes, the majestic red crater, the long plateau of seamless snow, the perfect dome of Mt Doom, the beautiful valleys with their snowy patterns and even Lake Taupo in the distance! This crossing is hyped for good reason! And luckily, the first half is the best so it wasn't so bad to walk the same way back. 5,5 Hours later we were back at the start, with slightly heavy legs but with a massive grin. This was awesome, and the lady of the information center had not been a very good asset (could that be because, as she told us later, she had never walked the crossing herself..? 🤣).

# A magical species that is endemic to New Zealand is the Glowworm. This tiny creature that technically isn't a worm but a larvae lives inside watery limestone caves with a lot of friends and they all glow in the dark to attract food. We had already found some of them on the South Island, but that was nothing in comparison to what we experienced in Waitomo. Dressed as giant leprechauns with dorky headlights we made our way deep into the backyard of a local family, where we descended into an enormous cave. After wading through the water and climbing through tiny spaces, we got to a large chamber. Once we turned off our lights and our eyes got accustomed to the dark, we found ourselves surrounded by millions and millions of Glowworms. They looked like stars in the sky, so beautiful it took our breaths away. That is some seriously enchanting sight. 🌌✨

# Back in the real world we drove to Hamilton, home of the most beautiful Botanical Gardens we have ever seen. Neatly organized in sections with each a different style, it had it all. There were fancy Italian Renaissance gardens with perfect beds and Roman statues as fountains, Indian Gardens with colourful flower pavilions and a perfectly symmetrical mini Taj Mahal, beautiful, precisely ordered Japanese gardens with hidden pathways, a teahouse and a pond, Chinese Gardens with flowers and dragons, old English Gardens with patterns and mythical creatures, Kitchen Gardens with more herbs and spices than Albert Heijn, Maori Gardens with Kumara and wooden tiki and many many more. Sign me up to get lost here everyday!

# Another one of the North Island most beautiful areas is the Coromandel peninsula. We took a few days to explore its many spectacular sights, especially enjoying the old mining structures in the mountains of Karangahake, its deserted beaches (apart from the super mega annoying sand flies), the amazing coastal view from Paku hill, the actually boiling hot water right under the surface at Hot Water Beach, the impressive natural arch at Cathedral Cove and the very exposed but absolutely stunning one way drive to Port Jackson. There is no end to this country's beauty.

# Slowly starting to feel a bit of time pressure, we made our way to Northland, but not before a stop Auckland to start spreading the word; we were selling New Zealand’s best camper van! With a quick result; before we took off two young German girls wanted to have a quick look and seemed interested! 🤞

# Coming into Northland at the east side, we quickly entered the stunning Bay of Islands. While driving, we'd pass the one amazing view after the other and we wished we could fly away to see the beautiful bay dotted with little islands from above. Along the west end of Northland stretches Ninety Mile Beach, which has giant sand dunes where we tried our gymnastic and sliding skills. All the way at the northernmost point, we walked to the beautiful lighthouse of Cape Reinga. From there, you can see the most beautiful cape in the entire world; Cape..... Maria van Diemen!! It isn't just the name, although it is incredibly cool to share it, this stunning place at the very beginning of New Zealand does have a special feel to it. 😍

# With 4 constrainedly replaced tires, a wire fix and an alternative indicator lights switch, we made it back to Auckland just in time to meet the German girls at the garage. They were still interested, but wanted to have the van pre-purchase checked before closing the deal. Even though we only had some minor (expensive though) setbacks during our otherwise smooth 3 months road trip, we were nervous when handing in the keys - at the end of the day this car is older than my sister and it's probably been around the country countless times. But the check turned out to be very positive; nothing (!!!!) was wrong and the sale was encouraged! 😂 So the girls got a good car for a good price and we got a clear conscience and even a bit of profit! Everybody happy! 🍾 And the best thing is that we did not have to stress about the sale for one bit and could spend our remaining 3 days exploring Auckland without any worries! 🙌

# Secretly missing our van, we now walked to Auckland's various sights. We enjoyed beautiful city views from Mt Eden and One Tree Hill in the volcanic field, walked past beautiful historic buildings and through palm tree dotted parks, picnicked in the harbour, admired kiwi art in the city's neat art gallery, tried different kinds of Asian inspired street food and waited for the rain to pass over tea in one of Auckland's hip cafes. Extra special was the day we spent with an amazing family that we had met in the tailor shop in Vietnam; they took us up the Skytower to overlook the city and its surrounds, showed us around Skycity and took us for a delicious buffet dinner. We. Are. Some. Seriously. Lucky. Fucks. 💖

And then, all of a sudden, 3 months had passed and we reached the end of an era. Wow, how we have intensely enjoyed our time in New Zealand. We fell in love with the South Island's rough beauty, the major sights of the North Island, the quiet of wintertime, our #vanlife and the people we met. We might now be spoiled, it will be very hard to beat this experience!

Luckily, our next destination at least has 1 thing that NZ didn't; tropical temperatures! And as much as we are sad to say goodbye, we can't wait to get rid of those jackets and boots! New Zealand, we will be back! But for now; off to Hawaii!! 🏝🌺🍍💖

[kateofthecanals]

For The (Not)Watch: Episode 7.3

The Queen’s Nap Time

Guys, remember after Season 5 ended, all the showpologists came out in full force to declare S5 superior to Feastdance because those 2 books are too “slow” and “boring” and “nothing happens”? Remember how they thought S5 was better because there was less talkie-talkie and more stabby-stabby? Remember?

It’s okay, I’m sure they conveniently don’t either...

The opening scene of this episode is TWENTY. MINUTES. LONG. Sure, it’s Jon & Davos’s (miraculous) touch-down in Dragonstone, culminating in a reunion between Jon & Tyrion and the much-anticipated first meeting between Jon and Dany but HOLY SHIT WAS IT DULL. So Jon & Davos pull up in their row boat and are greeted by Missandei, who has a certain extra pep in her step today ifyaknowhatimean. Davos immediately begins hitting on her but she swervin’ cuz she spoken for, old man!! She also tells J & D and their soldiers to wipe their feet on the mat and drop their weapons at the door, like this is Vaes Dothrak 2.0 (because that worked out so well last time, eh?). The Northern party is escorted by a band of busted-wig Dothraki and make their way up the Great Wall of Dragonstone. Every. Fucking. Step. Jon and Tyrion’s first convo is literally about Sandra and whether or not she “misses” Tyrion [eyeroll]. Jon’s like ummm awkwaaaarrrrd before Tyrion proclaims it “a sham marriage, and never consummated”. Jon’s like “T.M.I., bro“ and then Tyrion’s like, “well ANYWAY, she’s a lot smarter than she lets on” (correction: a lot smarter than the writers let on, thankyouverymuch), to which Jon replies, “She’s starting to let on.” HAHAHAHAHAHA shut up. They continue to make lame small talk until even Drogon is like “OH MY GOD ENOUGH” and swoops down upon them and they all hit the deck. Actually, this moment came immediately after Jon declared “I’m not a Stark” because D&D think they’re clever. Jon is proper SHOOK at seeing dragons for the first time, and honestly it’s the most emotion we’ve seen from him in like 3-4 seasons.

“Hold me closer, tiny Lannistaaahhhh...”

Up above some perch overlooking the walkway, Mel is looking all wistful as she watches Jon and Davos make their approach and then Varys, who looks like he’s been over-hitting the self-tanner, creeps up behind her and asks why she isn’t down there to greet Jon too, and she says, “I’ve done my part. I’ve brought Ice and Fire together.” (Again, D&D soooo clevah!) Mel declares she’s retiring from the king-advisin’ game but Varys ain’t buying it. She admits she and Jon & Davos aren’t on speaking terms because of “mistakes” she made and is fixing to bugger off to Volantis. Varys is like I’LL HELP YOU PACK, but she’s like pump the brakes, I’ll be back later cuz I have a date with death in Westeros AND SO DO YOOOOUUU! Well needless to say, that wiped the bronzer right off Varys’s face.

We finally get to the Stone Throne Zone™ where Missandei spends 8 minutes rattling off Dany’s titles, and Davos is like “uhhhhh, this is Jon Snow, he likes pancakes!” or whatever, and when Dany calls him “my lord” Davos is like “EXCUSE YOU, HE IS KING IN THE NORTH, SHOW SOME RESPECT” and Dany decides to give us a history lesson about Torrhen Stark (AKA D&D’s attempt at trying to convince us they did some actual research lolololol) and how he totally gave it up to Aegon the Conqueror and is looking at Jon like

She also has to ask Tyrion what big words mean because of course she does, and Jon’s just like, sorry, I ain’t about that bending-the-knee life and reminds her that her father murdered his grandfather and uncle AND OMIGOD CAN’T YOU JUST SEE HOW THEY’RE FALLING IN LOVE, YOU GUYS??? She apologizes for her dad being a douche but still insists he bow down and she’ll make him Warden of the North instead and they can all be friendsies. Jon’s like, cool story, but nah, and insists that Dany needs his help. She’s like “bitch where?” and Davos steps in to say that they coulda stormed King’s Landing if they wanted to (snicker), and Jon asks Dany why SHE hasn’t done that yet. A VERY GOOD QUESTION THAT I WANTED TO HEAR HER ANSWER TO but oops, nevermind, Jon went ahead and answered it for her; in fact, he must have watched last week’s episode because he seemed to know her whole (dumb) plan! Jon finally gets around to mentioning the Army of the Dead and the Night King and everyone’s just rolling their eyes. Dany then spends another 5 minutes (woodenly) monologuing about her life story. Her whole point being that... actually, I’m not sure, she was pretty much just rambling, but I’m sure D&D thought it was super profound. They find themselves at an impasse, so Davos decides it’s a good time to start rattling off Jon’s resume, but when he gets to the part about the stabby-deathy-wakey, Jon’s like

WHY, tho?? Even Mel stopped just short last episode of mentioning that Jon’s a reanimated corpse. I don’t understand why this is such a mystery...

Jon still refuses to bend the knee, and Dany declares him a rebel, but then Varys comes in and whispers in her ear and suddenly she’s like, “SO, my peeps will show you to your rooms, take a load off, enjoy some room service, ring the bell if you need anything!” As she begins to walk away, Jon asks, “Am I your prisoner?” To which she replies, “Not yet.” [CUE PORN MUSIC]

Jon and Davos leave, and Varys tells Dany about how the ships sailing back south to Dorne were ambushed by Euron Two-Hands and how errybody was either killed or captured.

CUT TO Theon being dragged out of the water by some Ironborn who ask him if Yara is dead or not, and he says he tried to save her, and Yoda Harlaw is like “there is no try!” and they all leave him in a heap on the poop deck.

Meanwhile, in King’s Landing, all those smallfolk who should be in open rebellion over the usurper queen who murdered they queen they actually loved along with half the city and their religious center are gleefully applauding Euron Both-Eyes as he parades how own niece plus Ellaria and Tyene through the streets on leashes.

So yeah, Pause. Can we talk for a second about how the smallfolk are portrayed on this show? Last week, Olenna gave a speech about how the smallfolk (or, the “mob”, as they are referred to this week) are just a bunch of morons who will basically just go along with whatever you tell them, and this episode proved that statement to be correct. Showing us, once again, how there are literally NO CONSEQUENCES to anything on this show. Remember in Season 2 when the smallfolk rioted just cuz Joffrey wouldn’t give them any bread? Cersei committed an act of ACTUAL TERRORISM, and she’s being cheered in the streets now.

Anyway, Euron is prancing through the streets like a rock star, panties flying at his face, and he says he’s getting a boner and calls Theon a “twat” (I didn’t need to mention this is a D&D-written episode, right?). He rides into the throne room to respectful applause and Ellaria pees a little when she sees Gregor -- because remember EVERYONE KNOWS IT’S GREGOR. Euron presents Ellaria & Tyene as the “gift” for Cersei and she’s like “awwww and I didn’t get you anything... and I won’t until the war is over.” Euron and Jaime then have another shade-off, where Euron is bragging about how the mob loves him, and Jaime reminding him that this same mob spat at Cersei not long ago.... WHAT BRAINLESS SHEEP, AMIRITE?!? Euron then asks Jaime’s advice on how Cersei likes it in the sack, and whether or not she likes “a finger in the bum?” EMMYS ARE ALREADY IN THE MAIL, FELLAS!

Next we have another interminably long scene in a dungeon that’s so clearly an attempt at awards-baiting for Lena and Indira, where Cersei just starts monologuing at Ellaria about murdering Myrcella (apparently we care about our kids again today) and taunts her about Gregor, who is standing just off to the side, killing Oberyn. VERY LONG STORY short, Cersei ends up poisoning Tyene in the same manner that Ellaria did Myrcella and then leaves them there so Ellaria can watch Tyene die. I guess. It was dumb.

So, for those (not) keeping score, one episode after D&D pat themselves on the back for having 4 Strong Women™ in one scene together talking politics, 3 of those women have been imprisoned and/or murdered, by another woman. #FEMINIST

After this, Cersei makes a b-line for Jaime and immediately gives him a blowjob and I’m just like OH NO is Jaime’s dick gonna fall off now???

The wake up the next morning in blissful afterglow because character development is for sissies, when there’s a knock on the door. 40-something Cersei hops out of bed with her still-nubile 20-something bod to answer (yes, it was clearly the same body double from the WoS, because an aging woman’s body has no place on this show except for laughs or shock value). Jaime’s like “no, nobody can see us together!” and she’s like “meh nbd.” She opens the door to some Mya Stone-looking babe -- who is rocking the same hairstyle as her, and no I don’t think that was supposed to be a coincidence? -- who tells her that Tycho Nestoris is in the hizzy.

Tycho congratulates her(??) for blowing up the sept, but she insists it was an accident... even though fucking HOT PIE knows she did it. Anyway, lots more talkie-talkie about she’s in hella debt and Iron Bank wants to invest in a “winner” and Cersei throwing some shade about the Iron Bank suffering because Dany put the kibosh on the slave trade and hold on a minute Braavos is the only Free City that does NOT have slaves??? Uggghhhh... Anyway, she says that the Iron Bank should invest in her because slaves and dragons can’t pay their debts. Okay, whatever...

Back on sunny Dragonstone, we reach peak-meta as Tyrion approaches Jon on a cliffside and says that he (Jon) looks way better than him (Tyrion) while brooding. [cue ALL the eye-rolling] Tyrion’s all bummed out because he didn’t foresee the Greyjoy attack, and the pained look on his face and in his voice seems to be channeling D&D as they have to admit that their golden boy is actually fallible! Jon’s whining about how Dany took his ship and no one believes his story about the walkers, but Tyrion says he believes him. Jon just wants to go back home, and Tyrion actually says, “It’s hard to believe you became King In The North by giving up that easily”, and even Jon has to look into the camera like he’s on “The Office”. Blah blah blah, talk talk talk, then FINALLY Jon comes out with the dragonglass pitch, which Tyrion delivers to Dany. He also quotes himself from the previous scene, saying “a wise man once said” but Dany totally calls him out on it... which would be awesome if SHE WASN’T ALWAYS QUOTING HIM HERSELF. Tyrion’s like, look, just give him the dragonglass and let him be on his way. Dany brings up what Davos said about Jon taking a knife to the heart and wonders what the heck it meant, and Tyrion’s just like “ahhhh those kooky Northerners!”

Skip to later and Jon and Dany having a heart-to-heart outside and she tells him he can have all the dragonglass he wants but won’t answer him when he asks if she believes him about the Night King.

Up in Winterfell, Sandra is taking charge, y’all! She’s struttin’ around the grounds with her posse LF, Bronze Yohn, and Maester Whatshisname and is not happy with the amount of food stores because, as she points out, all the armies in the North will eventually end up at Winterfell (oh REALLY??) when winter comes and they need to be prepared for that, so she proposes “borrowing” grain stores from all the other keeps in the North for the duration of winter and they can have back whatever’s left when winter is over. Then she passes the smith and is like “PUT SOME LEATHER ON THOSE DANG BREASTPLATES YOU AMATEURS!” Bronze Yohn and Maester peel off but LF is still sticking to her like glue, telling her that “command suits you.” He then goes into what seems like another version of the “chaos is a laddah!!” speech except even less sensical. Like seriously, what even the hell? “Fight the battles with your mind! Everything you’ve seen before you will see again!”

Just then, someone comes up behind Sandra (who is absolutely RAPT by LF’s speech, mind you) and tells her there’s someone at the gate. I won’t lie, my stomach did a flip -- could it be?? Is it?? Will they??

Ahhhhhh no, of course not. It’s just Bran, who has apparently been watching the episode too because he looks bored as fuuuuuck. He’s just like “oh hi.” Sandra bursts into tears and hugs him, and he just sits there, emotionless. So, somewhere between the Wall and Winterfell, his personality became as paralyzed as his legs...

So the two of them are chilling in the godswood where Sandra (correctly) points out that Bran is actually the true heir to Winterfell. Bran’s like, “nah, that ain’t for me. I’m the Three-Eyed Raven!” and Sandra’s like “I don’t know what that means”. He tries to explain (badly) and Sandra’s all “uhhhhh kaaayyy?”

Then Bran goes into full Creep Mode and begins to recount her wedding in the godswood to Ramsay, which he refers to as “beautiful”. At which point she’s just like

So that shot of Sandra from the trailer where she’s exiting the godswood on the verge of tears is actually because she’s been triggered by her own damn brother reminding her of her marriage to a rapist and calling it “beautiful”. ANOTHER GREAT STARK REUNION, GUYS!!

Also... Bran KNEW ABOUT HER MARRIAGE TO RAMSAY THE WHOLE TIME?? And he never mentioned it to anyone?? Bloodraven? Meera? Hodor?? Like, “oh shit, my sister has been through some nonsense, I wish I was there to help her or something!” Just... nothing???

Anyway, Sandra almost got to have a reaction to her trauma as if it still matters or something, QUICK, CUTAWAY TO ANOTHER SCENE!!

Ahhhh, Jorah’s raw, scaly flesh, perfect! So, long story short, the procedure totally worked, Jorah is no worse for wear other than just a bad sunburn, and Sam can add “totally cured Westerosi AIDS” to his list of things to brag about. Jorah skips off to go find his Kuhleeeezy again, and literally there was no point to this storyline whatsoever. Jorah is fine, he learned absolutely nothing, and even Sam didn’t even get like a promotion or a raise or anything. Just a pat on the back from the now-bearded Archmaester Slughorn and alls well that ends well!

Back on Dragonstone, Dany wants to attack Euron’s fleet on her dragons but she gets talked out of it. The comes a whirlwind montage of the Unsullied attacking Casterly Rock, which they are able to do successfully because of Tyrion’s knowledge of the sewers. But OOPS here comes the Ironborn fleet! Grey Worm has a concern...

Meanwhile, the rest of the Lannister forces are storming... Highgarden? Freaking Horn Hill looked better than Highgarden, wtf? Anyway, apparently Jaime and the Lannister army sieges and takes HG off-camera in less than a minute, because we needed to spend that time on pointless, redundant dialogue in the first-half of the episode. So Jaime finds Olenna in her chambers, and Olenna’s like “you’re cool with your queen being a total tyrant then, huh?” And Jaime ACTUALLY says that once the war is over, it won’t matter HOW she got there. Uhhhhhhh okay, bro! Sadly, he’s right, though, because literally nothing matters on this show anymore. He offers her some poison in her wine and she’s like

And before she peaces out, she tells Jaime to tell Cersei that she’s the one who killed Joffrey. BUUURRRRN!

Now, I’m not sure if that was supposed to be a revelation for the audience or just for Jaime... because I feel like even the most casual GoT fan already knew this?

Also -- DID JAIME AND OLENNA JUST HAVE THE SCENE THAT SHOULD’VE HAPPENED BETWEEN JAIME AND TYRION AT THE END OF SEASON 4???

Also also, it begs the question -- who DID Jaime think killed Joffrey?? Obviously not Tyrion... and likely not Sansa either. Was this ever even addressed?? I can’t recall.

ANYWAY, I’m too bored to care. Amazing how these episodes just get worse and worse in a season that was supposed to have “fixed” the pacing issues lmao.

And btw, when I said that Sandor would not be seen again for the next 3 to 4 episodes after the premiere, I was only half-joking.... buuuut that seems to be entirely the case after all. Sigh...

[artificialqueens]

now there's green light in my eyes ch. 1

author ladyalix

cw / alcohol

ship: trixya

1920s/Great Gatsby AU for Trixya! Trixie is a Milwaukee girl visiting her cousin Pearl in New York, Katya is a Russian refugee in the bootlegging business, murder and lovers and speakeasies and general 1920s New York fun ensue! Trixie, Katya, Kennedy, and Pearl are cis girls, Max is a cis man, and Violet is a gay/genderfluid Italian gangster who does drag!

more on ao3 @ladyalix

I know what the gangsters think of me. I can converse with them as easily in their native Italian as in English, I smoke and drink like one of them. My clothing is cut low to lead them into business deals, coerce them into thinking I actually give a damn about them personally. They like to believe it, and so they do.

But these men, I do not find them attractive. No, the one who makes my heart race is someone entirely different.

___

Trixie Mattel’s summer in New York was hard to run by her mother. It was safer in Wisconsin, Mamma had argued. The city wasn’t proper for a nice girl like Trixie, only nineteen, chaste and well-mannered - she belonged in a small town, helping Mamma run her dress shop, biding the days until she married whatever good-natured man came along first. Ever since Papa had died when she was eleven, Trixie had spent her summers working. It wasn’t easy without a man in the house, but they made do with what they had. Trixie had stopped asking for new clothing long ago, learned to pretend not to be hungry on the days when there wasn’t money for food. When Mamma took in sewing and laundry and cleaned rich ladies’ houses Trixie came along and helped; the most important thing, though, Mamma always said, was that she did not lose her dignity and class. Mamma grew up in New York; her sister’s daughter Pearl, who was five years older than Trixie, lived there now. Mamma had left it all behind to marry Trixie’s father, a love story she told with wistful eyes and sighs whenever Trixie could coax it out of her.

“They didn’t want me marrying him,” she said. “He was an Indian from Wisconsin and I was a socialite from New York. It was quite the scandal back in the day - in all the papers, you know. It was unthinkable. But when you love someone, sometimes boundaries that stark cease to exist. When you love someone everything falls into place.”

And so Trixie and her mother, cut off from any inheritance, still acted like socialites even when there was nothing to eat, when there was no coal in the fireplace, when Trixie had to drop out of school for a year and take in mending. She held onto that secret knowledge, that she came from New York and had the manners and poise and dignity to show for it, like it was a treasure. A pearl, like her cousin’s name. She’d never met Pearl, but the two had corresponded for many years of Trixie’s childhood. Trixie could tell she was a pretty girl even in black and white -  lithe and elfin with big eyes. Pearl often wrote of lavish parties and beach holidays and trips abroad; she married an Englishman named Max Malanaphy last year. Trixie idolized her. And this year, the summer she would be turning nineteen, Pearl had finally sent her the letter Trixie had been waiting for as long as she could remember.

My Dear Trixie,

I hope Wisconsin is doing you well! You must be DREADFULLY bored! Would you like to spend your summer staying with us in New York? I’ll pay for train fare.  I’m sure you are old enough now that Aunt Eleanor won’t mind. Do write back!  

Love, your Pearl. xxxx

Trixie’s mother had been reluctant - Trixie was too naive, too trusting, too young, she had fretted.

“But Mamma,” Trixie had argued, “It’s Pearl . You know her. She’s a very responsible girl. I won’t get into trouble with her and Max - Mr. Malanaphy - looking after me. And she said she’ll pay for train fare!”

Her mother had sighed.

“Tell Pearl we shall pay her back,” she finally said. “But… perhaps. You have been very helpful lately, very mature. It might do you good to get out of Wisconsin for a summer.”

So here she was, in New York City. Max and Pearl had a flat overlooking Central Park which was one of the nicest places Trixie had ever seen, more beautifully decorated even than the mayor’s house back home where she used to clean the floors.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Max said warmly, his accent betraying his British roots and making him seem very sophisticated. Though he wasn’t too much older than Pearl, his hair was already a steely grey. He was handsome, Trixie guessed, tall and lanky with a long straight nose and fair skin. He’d been an officer in the war, with medals to prove it, but now worked somehow in trade. Trixie was rather confused about the exact nature of his job, but he did do well for himself, it seemed. Pearl was just as pretty as Trixie had pictured her, even more so maybe. Her hair was pale blonde, her eyes blue and shaded by long dark lashes. She dressed well, too; pale, floaty dresses that showed off her slim, attractive figure in a way Trixie’s mother would have considered vulgar. Trixie considered it wonderful.

“Tonight we’re going to see the most wonderful jazz singer,” Pearl gushed as she bustled about the flat, tidying up what was to be Trixie’s new roo,. “Kennedy Davenport herself. They say she’s the Josephine Baker of New York.”

Trixie had no idea who Josephine Baker was, but she nodded.

“Am I coming with you?”

“Of course,” said Pearl. “If you want to. And you must promise not to write home about where it is.”

“What do you mean?”

Pearl smirked. “I guess you know drinking alcohol is illegal now,” she said. Trixie nodded again, suspicious.

“Well, Max and I just happen to know a little place that gets around that pesky Eighteenth,” she grinned. “It also happens to be an absolute hotspot of talent in every colour, shape, and size. None of which you’d find on the outside, either. But it’s all very hush-hush. Can you keep it a secret?”

Trixie frowned, considering. She couldn’t help thinking of her mother’s warnings, her promises to stay out of trouble, but eventually she squared her shoulders. “Yes. I can.”

“Oh, isn’t that the bee’s knees !” chirped Pearl, clasping her hands together in excitement. “I hope you have something nice to wear!”

Max beckoned for Trixie to follow him and Pearl down a flight of steps to the basement of an old unassuming brownstone - something so well hidden, so inconspicuous, that by day it would have had no hint of its true nature.

“This definitely doesn’t seem legal,” muttered Trixie. Max nodded understandingly, his grey hair illuminated by the gas lamps, his pale face almost haunting in the dim shadow.

“I was worried too, my first time. But don’t worry. The cops tend to overlook this place. Mostly because of Madame Zamolodchikova’s bribery.”

“And her sex appeal,” snorted Pearl. “You know she’d be in prison for alcohol possession right now if she didn’t look like she did.”

Trixie gulped.

“Madame what ?”

Pearl laughed.

“Katya Zamolodchikova. Max, we know her well enough, you can stop putting on airs.” Max huffed.

“First-name bases are overrated, darling.”

The speakeasy was dark, clouded with smoke and pervasive with the scent of alcohol. A black girl with large light eyes and an elaborate feathered costume sang jazz on a small raised stage.

“Kennedy Davenport,” whispered Max, “an absolute genius. I can’t believe she’s performing at Madame Zamo’s. She’s been signed with all the big labels uptown already.”

The band picked up and began to play a peppier jazz tune.

“Oh, let’s dance,” exclaimed Pearl, grasping onto her lover’s wrist. She looked vibrant and lovely even in the dim light, her pale blonde hair coiffed into finger-waves and her thin, flat-chested body draped in a short pale pink dress.

Trixie hung back, feeling inadequate and dumpy in the pale blue gingham she’d brought from home. It was too modest and too hokey and too Wisconsin for a place like this.

“Don’t you want to dance?” called Pearl, expertly twisting her body into the Charleston with Max.

“Um…” Trixie froze. “I think I’ll watch. For now.” She sat on a plush red couch, folding her legs the way her mother had always taught her. This - the dress that looked nunlike next to Pearl’s - was still the shortest dress she’d ever worn. As she sat, it hiked above her knees and made her feel very daring and very, very bad.

“It’s quite all right, darling,” came a gravelly, foreign voice from startlingly close behind her. Trixie turned around to face an elegant blonde woman, all red lips and picture star hair and sharp cheekbones and bony limbs, dressed in furs and diamonds and reeking of smoke. “Not everyone is a dancer. Some of us prefer to sit back and watch, yes?”

“Leave her alone, Katya,” said Pearl, rolling her eyes as she walked towards Trixie and the mysterious woman. “Trixie’s terrified, the poor dear.”

Katya , thought Trixie as the realization dawned in her brain, this is the owner of the speakeasy, the bootlegger,  herself.

“Terrified? Trixie, dear, you have no reason to be terrified,” cooed the blonde woman, the “r”s in her speech trilled and drawn out. “You are not hiding in ditch from Red Army.”

Trixie blinked.

“ What ?”

“I am only teasing,” affirmed this Katya. “Can I get you something to drink? What do you like?”

“I’ve, um, actually never drank alcohol before,” confessed Trixie.

“Have you not?” Katya’s eyes, which were a startling blue, filled with mischief. “Well, today we have a little bit of everything. Scotch from Scotland, gin from England, vodka from Russia, champagne from France, rum from the West Indies.”

Trixie had no idea what any of those things tasted like, but she knew what champagne was; she decided on ordering that.

“A good choice, Trixie,” commented Katya as she bustled about, pouring a glass.

“How is business on the North Shore, Miss Zamolodchikova?” murmured Max, pronouncing the foreign surname perfectly. He’d obviously practiced.

“Oh, excellent, excellent. You have spoken with Dardo about the latest shipment?”

“Of course.” Pearl glanced nervously at Trixie, who had been pretending not to pay attention.

“This doesn’t concern you, Trixie,” she whispered, giving her hand a squeeze - amiable, yet firm in its message to make herself scarce.

“Oh. All right. Sorry.”

Trixie left the couch, casting glances the others’ way and kicking herself inwardly for not realizing that Pearl herself - and Max, too, then, were bootleggers, gangsters. It certainly explained Max’s wealth and his frequent trips to London.

As the night dragged on, Trixie tried hard not to trail after Pearl, but it proved difficult. Katya seemed to take Trixie under her wing, providing her with drinks and making small talk. Trixie learnt the older woman was originally from Russia, and had spent time living with artists and ingenues in Paris before settling comfortably in Long Island, nestled on the funds from her speakeasy.

“It is, of course, ridiculous what you must do to have a little fun in this country,” she explained, taking a drag on a cigarette. Trixie always thought of cigarettes as being in the realm of men, but Katya managed to make it feminine and even sensual. It was no wonder, she thought, that all the gangster men went after her.

“Why don’t you go back to your country, then?” asked Trixie. She realized how rude she must have sounded only when the Russian woman’s blue eyes misted with tears.

“Oh, my dear, I have no country to go back to. Ever since damn Communists killed the tsar. I came to Paris as refugee when I was not much older than you, you see. All alone - my parents were killed in the fighting.” Katya swallowed hard. “Everything you see, I make myself. My entire life here in America, I make myself.”

“‘Golly,” whispered Trixie.  Her childhood had been far from ideal; she knew what it was to be hungry, to wear clothes that never fit right. But poor as she had been, Katya’s story made her background seem near idyllic.

“It is all right. We all have our crosses to bear,” said Katya quietly. “I do not dwell too much in the past. And besides, in Russia I could not do this ,” she said, grasping Trixie’s bare thigh with her pale hand. Trixie tensed.

“What is wrong with you?” she exclaimed. The Russian’s hand felt good, exciting even, but it was all wrong. Men weren’t supposed to do this to ladies, let alone other ladies. Trixie’s mother would probably have a heart attack if she could see her daughter right now.

Katya retracted her hand, a look of shame spreading across her face.

“I am sorry, Trixie, I thought you knew. Here in my bar, we are very open about our… sexual differences, you see. In Paris it was all the rage. Every woman I knew was intimate with other women. But New York, even, is not Paris. This I know now.” Trixie’s anger faded as she saw Katya’s face etched with worry. Katya was no predator - she was just a woman, a woman like Trixie, who fell in love with other women. Maybe, just maybe, Trixie even felt the same way. The Russian woman was so unlike anyone back home, she couldn’t be sure; the way she smoked like a man, the way her accent made Trixie’s name a rolling wave, the way she showed so much kindness and openness and understanding. The way this place seemed to be safe for people like Kennedy to sing and Katya to love, it couldn’t be a bad thing. When you love someone everything falls into place…

“I hope we can still be friends, Trixie,” Katya was saying now. “Nothing really happened.”

“Yeah. Nothing happened,” confirmed Trixie. “But if something were to happen, I don’t think I would mind.”

[quatschmachen]

August Long Weekend Pt 1

An arc within the 2020 arc because that is how I roll. Originally was going to have this as one long fic, but hey, it’s going to be long as fuck so enjoy it cut up into parts.

Masterpost

XXXX

Edward had unceremoniously kicked them out, most likely because Étienne, who had been trying to help in the frantic cleaning, had managed to drop the soap down the stairs causing them to turn into some sort of soapy waterslide, and Edward’s eyes wide, had said, “RIGHT! You and Calvin are going shopping for the things we will need, now.” Étienne could hardly look at Edward feeling like a fuck up once again, especially when he caught a glimpse of him towels in hand cleaning up the mess that Edward refused to even let him help with.

He had been trying to make up for the night before, where after an evening of TV where Étienne had felt the words between them widening into a chasm, stretching out across their only link, Calvin, who kept commenting upon the television shows, comfortably sitting between them, his words an endless patter filling the words that Étienne found himself swallowing, words which usually kept hidden so well wanting to spill out like too much rainwater from the barrel, where the small slips of before were opening up a dam of words that wanted to continue to spill until he was empty of them. As he lay in the guest bedroom alone, the words swirling around him a dark tidal force trying to pull him down back under the wall of silence, he found himself getting up, slipping on his sneakers (freshly bought from the shopping trip on Whyte), and creeping out into the night, entering the peaceful backyard, the stars dimly shining above him, the ground fresh and damp, the lingering smell of rain bringing the scent of leaves to the fore, surrounding him in a cocoon of nature. It was dark, but in the city never dark enough that one could not see where things were. He wandered over to the closed chicken coop, and opened it, entered and then closed the gate behind him, feeling ridiculous for this. No doubt the chickens were safely sleeping, dreaming of bugs and cheese.  Sitting on a conveniently placed log, he sat there, staring up at the stars, listening to the breeze in the cool night air, trying to let the words fly away, let him lay down and rest.

His contemplation had been ruined by the swarms of mosquitos descending upon him, and later as he lay in bed scratching and hating his life, he wondered why he had stayed so long. He should leave, book his flight and get out of there.

Which had been his full intention, but after a rather hasty breakfast followed by Edward informing them that they had to help clean the house up before the others arrived (not even explaining who was arriving), they had been roped into the roles, until Étienne managed to fuck up even cleaning. There hadn’t been time for him to even look up flights.

“Where are we going?”

“Shopping,” Calvin said unhelpfully as he backed the truck out.

“Why is your garage so large – there is literally room for two more trucks,” Étienne asked, his mind wandering.

“One.”

“One?”

“Yeah.” Calvin grunted as he finished backing out into the alley, and began to get them onto the proper path.

“Calvin, that fits two at least.”

“If you’re counting in the size of Ed’s tiny ass truck, honestly not sure why he keeps that ancient thing, pretty sure it’s 99 percent replacement parts by now,” Calvin laughed.

“You’re talking as if you know what truck goes there,” Étienne stated, looking at the other man curiously.

“Mmm yeah I do, it would be weird if I didn’t? Seeing as I helped design and build this place? Of course I would know what goes where,” came the amused response.

“Whose truck goes there then?”

“Mac’s of course,” Calvin said.

“Mac- oh right. Why does he have his own garage spot in your house?” Étienne asked, “Can’t he park out front?”

“Leave his baby out front where vandals could appear? You kidding me? That truck probably cost more than our house with how many upgrades and shit he did to it, sure it can probably climb a mountain no problem while fighting a bear simultaneously, but it’s still his baby and when he is in town he prefers to park it in the garage.”

“How could a truck fight a bear?”

“You clearly have not seen his truck, when you do you’ll understand.”

“Why would I be seeing his truck? I’m not going north to see him, I barely know him.”

“He’s coming to us,” came the casual comment.

“Coming to us?”

“Étienne, it’s August Long, he’s coming down with Caroline and we’re gonna have a BBQ and do some fun things-”

“Wait, doesn’t that mean I’m taking up space, I mean I’m in the guest room, you should have told me so I could leave, where will he and Caroline stay?”

“In his room, duh,” Calvin said as if it was super obvious, “His room is in the basement.”

“His room? Basement—ooooh is it that one with the really obnoxious bed?”

“Been snooping eh?” Calvin shot Étienne a sly smirk, “but yes, that’s his room.”

“What about Caroline?”

“What about her?”

“Where is she going to sleep?”

“Étienne, you do realize you do not own the house you have been sleeping in, and you are unnecessarily worrying about things Ed and I have covered, right? Anyways, she’s obviously sleeping with Mac.”

“Why?”

“Because they are together?”

“Wait what?”

“They’ve been together for a while, but I suppose, you just never knew and that’s fine, probably wasn’t a relevant topic of conversation at the time.”

“…but why does Mac have a permanent room in your house?”

“Eh, it’s his E-town crash pad, he lives up north obviously, and it was silly for him to have his own house down here, so me and Ed don’t mind him living with us every now and then, plus, he usually is so grateful he ends up buying groceries for the month or something, it works out. It’s nice having family close by too, y’know, catch up in between the gaps,” Calvin explained, “Sometimes get too busy working to enjoy the others’ company.”

“True…” Étienne thought of his family back home, his mind shifting to the rather strained relationship between him and Samuel, the awkward Christmas dinners, which he had only been showing up to recently because Élyse kept dragging him there. Dinners which when he had better company he liked to skip, but sometimes, when things were as they were, he did go to them with Edward, who oddly got along with Samuel. He could never figure it out, but after the first awkward meeting in the kitchen, when Samuel figured out that Edward actually could cook there had been some silent acceptance on his part. Those meetings had always occurred at Jacques’ place, who was the better older brother, who every now and then wanted the family near him, invited them over for Christmas, allowing them to bring a plus one. Samuel sometimes took someone, more often not. Étienne, hell, he could remember the reason for bringing Edward in the first place, it was because he had fucked up, he had forgotten about the gathering, had promised Edward that they could spend Christmas together and then panicking when Élyse reminded him that months before he had promised to actually show up at Jacques’ place.

However, when he had explained this to Edward, who had already shown up, hence Élyse reminding him, Edward simply shrugged and invited himself over. As if it was no big thing for him to go to some family gathering out east, saying he had meant to practice his French more anyway. It had been the late 80’s and after that… hell, how many had Edward ended up to? Jacques had even seemed to like him enough to encourage Étienne to invite him (he was not sure if Jacques wanted Edward or the Christmas Trifle that came with him), but it was later, after Edward had left him for Calvin, when Étienne had dragged himself to the event, that he realized how much of his life had included the other man. It was during one of those banal conversations dominated by Samuel, who glowed next to his new boyfriend, Frederic, a man who he had regretfully been successful in getting together with his brother (not that Samuel would ever view it in that way), where he had been giving jibes to how Étienne was alone that Christmas. It had started as small jibes, but over the course of Christmas Eve, and over after the Christmas dinner when they had met in the hallway alone, it had gotten more apparent that Samuel thought it rather pitiful that Étienne could not even rustle up a prostitute to keep him company on Christmas.

“Why do I need to bring someone?” he had finally snapped over wine, “Why do you even care? You don’t harass Élyse in this manner.”

Samuel had smirked in an irritating manner, “Élyse doesn’t care for that, we both know it, but you?”

“Me what?”

“Oh, well, I suppose you couldn’t even find someone who could tolerate you to come this year?”

“Fuck you,” he had hissed, stalking away, wondering why the hell his brother seemed to take delight in finding his failures and poking at them with a burning metal brand. He had regretted actually spending some time and thought on getting him a gift, vowing that next time he wouldn’t even bother.

How Calvin talked about family, he sensed that there weren’t the usual tensions, it was people who genuinely liked each other getting together, and somehow that made him feel uneasy. He could just imagine himself when the others arrived awkwardly sitting on the sideline forgotten, the person who did not fit in. He fit in easily in situations, while at the same time sliding through social situations untouched. Was this going to be one of those? He contemplated this as Calvin loaded him up with the reusable bags, and he followed him around the store, blindly gazing at the food. He was scrutinizing the bad French upon a bag of crisps when a voice called out Calvin’s name, a nice feminine voice. An overly friendly voice, and as he looked towards Calvin a very beautiful woman approached him, her smile wide, her red hair flowing around her. Other men in the vicinity had noticed her, and Étienne appreciated her curvaceous form and excellent style.

“Hey Veronica,” Calvin greeted her with a warm smile, “How are you?”

“Darling I’m fine, you haven’t called me back,” she pouted, her body language close and intimate, and if Étienne did not know any better, it was almost as if she was acting like she was his girlfriend. It was the nervous glance Calvin shot in his direction that did it. A soft fleeting glance that put Étienne on his guard, put him to look at the body language more critically.  Calvin was receptive to her touches, and as she straightened his collar as she talked to him, he watched as the man leant in slightly. It didn’t feel right, and when she left, after eliciting a promise from Calvin that yes he would phone her, Étienne was not sure what to ask. You fucking around on Edward there, Calvin? He knew this would be ironic coming from him, and hell, there wasn’t anything that said they were anything more than touchy feely friends.

“How do you know her?” he casually asked as he sneakily put potato chips into the cart.

“Veronica?”

“Who else would I be asking about, Calvin? That random woman being abused by her toddler over there?”

“No need to be sassy; well, I met her at the bar and stuff,” Calvin evasively answered as he picked up the potato chips, “Really? BBQ?”

“What’s wrong with BBQ chips?”

“They’re gross.” Calvin put them back in the cart anyway, and then grabbed the poutine flavoured chips, looking Étienne directly in the eye the entire time.

Étienne broke the challenging stare, wanting to ask more about the woman, but as Calvin changed the topic of conversation entirely, he knew that it would be weird for him to enquire as to exactly Calvin’s relationship with her was.

XXXX

As they arrived back at the house, Étienne’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he noticed the once vacant spot in the garage had been literally consumed by the largest, ugliest (in his opinion) truck he had ever seen in his life. It was the size of a small cathedral, sprawling, lifted high, with four shiny chrome pipes framing the back window like an unholy pipe organ. The back window was tinted, and in the middle, where one would presume the icon of Mother Mary would have gone, had this truck actually been a cathedral, was a sticker that seemed at first to mostly be in hieroglyphics. After a moment of staring at them, he realized that it simply said, “I love Alberta oil”. The imagery was arresting, simplistic, easy to understand if one knew what the pumpjack in the oil drop meant. The truck was shiny and black, the body well maintained, and as his gaze travelled across it, he was interested by the stickers plastered across the bumper, as if it was displaying the scriptures of this person’s religion.

Their favourite involved various designs on the “Alberta Strong” theme, interspersed with: an Oilers sticker, “Warning: is there life after death? Touch my truck and find out!”, “Do you follow Jesus this closely?”, “Does this truck make my neck look red?”, and the final “I love my truck.”

“Why are there so many bumper stickers?” Étienne asked, looking to Calvin.

“…Look, a truck is part of a man’s identity, and this one likes to have it all out in the open,” Calvin attempted to explain as he opened the door to his truck, “I prefer mine with less stickers and more shiny.”

“Why are there literally four more wheels than necessary on this truck?”

“Because it carries heavy loads, it gets put to work a lot, it’s not just for show…”

“Why does Edward allow such a gas guzzler?”

“Actually, it’s been semi converted.”

“Semi – converted?”                                      

“Well, it got converted to one more eco friendly, doesn’t need so much diesel, has an option to run on electricity, but switches over because with all the driving it does electricity isn’t always an option.”

“Why is the exhaust pointing upwards?”

“Stacks, those are stacks, it’s truck fashion.”

“Truck… fashion?”

Calvin seemed more and more amused by Étienne’s questions, “Look, we can continue this while getting the groceries inside, alright?”

“I am not sure if I even want to… I feel like every answer you give me confuses me more.”

Helping Calvin carry groceries in, Étienne heard the voice before he saw the man.  It drifted out across the backyard in loud laughter, the words following, and as he looked up Étienne saw the man reclining in a chair on the patio, beer in hand, regaling Edward with his terrible joke. At his feet lay a very large dog, a husky-something mix, fast asleep.

“Why do chicken coops only have two doors?”

“Why?” Edward’s voice sounded amused, he was relaxing across from the man, obviously enjoying his company.

“Because if it had four it would be a sedan!”

The groans of Edward and Caroline drifted towards them, and Calvin let out a loud laugh, alerting the others that they had returned.

“Calvin!” Edward called out, “Took you long enough!”

“Sorry sorry, Étienne is a slow walker.”

“Excuse me?” Étienne scoffed, “I wasn’t the one staring at potato chip flavours as if it was a life and death matter here.”

“Look, gotta get flavours people actually like, no Mozzarella Marinara incidents, right?”

“I have no idea what you are even saying.”

“Lordee,” Mac laughed, “I remember, thinking it would be good to try those newfangled flavours only to get some disappointing slightly cheese taste…”

��Good lord,” Caroline added, “I tried to block that incident from my memory. Good job Calvin, once more bringing up topics one has no desire to remember.”

“Sorry sorry, let us actually deposit these bags in the kitchen, hm?”

“I’ll help,” Edward stood up, setting his drink on the table, and opened the door, allowing the men to pass into the house easily. As they entered into the cool house, Edward said quietly to Calvin, “They came earlier than I thought they would, I don’t have anything finished… I haven’t even dusted their bedroom.”

Setting the bags down on the table, Calvin said in amusement, “You dusted his room last week, I don’t think some dust monster is about to appear.”

“I know…”

Edward had opened one of the bags and took out some dish soap. Étienne with some relief had set his bags down, not sure if he should help take things out and place them. He had a vague idea of where things went.

“C’mere,” Calvin was saying, as he leant over to Ed and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead, “Mac is gonna be fine, hell Caroline loves helping you in the kitchen, you need to unwind here, this is family, not some major life changing event where everything has to be perfect. Hell if the meat I am going to grill gets burnt to hell, Mac is going to think it’s the best thing ever.”

Making a wry face at Calvin, while shooting a slightly self-conscious look towards Étienne briefly, Edward said, “I know I know, you’re right,” he bustled about putting the items away, Calvin moving slowly, while Étienne awkwardly decided that he could put the milk in the fridge, he felt like some awkward third wheel on this conversation.

“Thank god Étienne was here for all this crap you sent us out for,” Calvin was saying, “I think my arms woulda broke.”

“You could always take two trips for the stuff,” Edward sensibly pointed out.

“But that would involve more walking,” Calvin pouted.

“So you are fine going to the gym to be in shape but an extra walk is about to kill you?” Edward teased as he folded up one of the reusable bags.

“Exactly!”

Rolling his eyes, Edward couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head at how ridiculous Calvin was being.

Feeling a little claustrophobic at this atmosphere, Étienne accidentally banged a cupboard where he had placed some new condiments, making the other two men jump.

“Sorry,” he muttered, not really being sorry, as he quickly walked out of the kitchen towards the patio. At the moment, hanging out with someone he barely knew seemed like a hell of a lot better deal than hanging out with love’s young dream. He was feeling conflicted, he was glad that whatever the past two days were about when he was alone with Edward had not affected his loving relationship with Mr. Perfect Boyfriend, but on the other hand, he had almost fooled himself into believing that maybe there was still something there, that perhaps with Edward inviting him to share a bed that perhaps he had for one moment missed him, but no, the entire time he had been yearning after his blond-haired buffoon.  Some part of him realized that he was being irrational about this, but somehow knowing he was being irrational made him even more pissed.

Caroline was laying on a lounger (where had that come from?), idly talking to Mac while she read a magazine; there was a comfortable atmosphere between them, and Étienne could tell that Calvin had not been shitting him about them being together. Even without touching, he could tell from the body language that they were an item, from the slight way Mac was turned towards her, to the brief glances she kept shooting him from over her mirrored sunglasses, her face shaded by the large brimmed straw hat upon her head. Her legs were crossed, her summer dress slightly caught up probably revealing more of her calves than intentional, her toes painted in a perfect pink.  It seemed almost laughable, the image of perfect femininity talking to a man more forearm than body, especially pronounced because his black t-shirt had the sleeves torn to show off his muscles. On his left bicep was an intricate watercolour style wild rose tattoo, framed by prairie grasses, the style of which changed into something more technical as the roots of the grass turned into pipes plunging into a dark black substance, which Étienne assumed meant to symbolize oil. His hair seemed to be a dirty blond, mostly hidden by a beaten up ballcap with a faded Newfoundland flag on it. Freckles lightly dusted his sunburnt face, one that he could tell easily smiled, but from the lines around his mouth and eyes also had seen a lot of worry. He had some stubble across his square chin, probably a day of no shaving.

“Say, come and joins us,” Mac had turned to give a welcoming gesture to Étienne, indicating the seat next to him.

Wondering why the hell this Northern Albertan man had a slight Newfie twang to his speech, Étienne sat beside him, glad that the patio sun umbrella had been set up to give blessed shade.

“I know we’ve been seein’ each other at the odd meetup, but I don’t think we have actually sat down to have a nadder, ye can call me Mac, and… I call you?”

“Étienne.”

“Geezus, there is no way I’m going to be pronouncing that correctly, I may know French, but those damn aspirated t’s always did me a harm.”

“It’s not aspirated.” Étienne said, feeling defensive.

“Hope you don’t mind if I call you Stevie?”

“Please don’t.”

“Hell, just Englishing your name a bit there, no need to be such a prickle, alright, even though you don’t seem the knitted unicorn tea cozy type, how about we compromise, eh Etsy?”

Étienne opened his mouth to protest this butchering of his name, only to be interrupted by Calvin appearing with a large metal tray with a cover on it.

“You really pulled through with the Taber corn and elk there, buddy!”

“’Course! Can’t show up empty handed, plus I’ve been day dreaming about you grillin’ it up all week, isn’t that right Sweet Pea?”

“He sure did,” she agreed setting her magazine down. “Is Ed still in the kitchen?”

“He’s getting the snacks together,” Calvin confirmed as he began to get the grill ready.

Sitting up, she slipped on her sandals, “I should go help him out then.”

“Me and Stevie here are gonna take Patches for a walk while you’re making the food,” Mac announced standing up, Patches sadly shifting off his feet. Signalling to Étienne to stand up, Étienne did so, somehow hypnotized, shifting as the other man slung an arm around his shoulders, pulling him down off the patio. Behind them, he could hear Patches give a soft wuff and lumber down behind them, “Can’t be interfering in the kitchen with the lil darlin’s in there, hell last time I tried to help, Caroline nearly hit me with a wooden spoon.”

“Nearly?”

“I ducked, of course,” Mac cracked a smile at Étienne while propelling him out the front gate, waiting a moment to let Patches pass through and shutting it, “Plus with Brisy setting up the grill, figured might as well get to know ya better.”

“Oh?” Étienne responded faintly, not even sure who Brisy was, but guessing he meant Calvin. He was not sure how he was getting pulled into this situation, or why Mac was calling him Stevie.

“Cigarette?” Mac offered.

“Yes please,” Étienne responded, glad that at least one vice was being allowed to get through this long weekend.

Taking two cigarettes out, Mac lit them, and then handed one to Étienne, then took a long drag on his.

“Can’t smoke there,” he explained, “Chuck tries hard to quit, I catch him cheatin’ sometimes, but I don’t rat him out. Brisebois is too squirrely about it, and ever since Caroline quit back in the early aughts, well mainly since we been seein’s each other, she keeps badgering me to quit, but eh,” he took another drag, “man’s gotta be allowed some vices, eh?”

Étienne nodded, not sure how to respond to this verbal assault, just grateful to have someone who actually enjoyed smoking, “So… why are you calling them…?”

“Oh, right, nicknames,” Mac smiled, “Brisebois is just Calvin’s middle name, he was an annoying lil fucker back in the day, and to spite him I called him that, and years later it sort of stuck as his nickname… and Chuck for Edward? Just one of those older nicknames y’know?”

Étienne gave a vague nod, sort of understanding, and took another puff of his cigarette.

Mac apparently had figured he had explained enough, as he abruptly switched topic, “So tell me… Are you one of those queers?”

Étienne was not sure how to respond to this sudden question, so he said, “Yes? Well, I like everyone?”

“This includes women?”

“And men, and… whoever else is a human?” Étienne added slightly defensively, not liking this line of interrogation.

“Finally,” he broke out into a smile, “Hell, I know Calvin likes the ladies, but he’s so moony over Eddy over there he’s not even half a bisexual, if you know what I mean. I’m fine with the queers, well obviously just sometimes I just want to admire a woman and not be considered a minority.”

“Does Caroline not admire women?” Étienne asked amused.

“Pretty certain she does, not sure if she wants to be doin’ the lil ol’ in ‘n’ out if you knows what I mean, but we aren’t sittin’ around admiring a fine piece of ass together, usually if I notice she slaps me on the arm, and I smiles at her knowing she’s right about it.”

“About what?” Étienne asked feeling himself drawn to this man despite the rough edges, there was something about him, at first impressions or rumours off-putting like sand paper on one’s skin, but once you got past the bluster and bluff, you could see the hardworking man, the one who spent his days doing the hard labour to bring the results.

“She’s the best damn thing that happened to me in the past three years and I better not be taking her for granted, that’s what,” he bluntly said, “She’s a hell of a lot better company than the paid ladies I used to consort with, and the men who I hung out with but y’know not in that way, just the men who talked about sex all the time but never did anything.”

“Are you saying she’s your first real relationship?”

“If you mean romantic long term, yes,” Mac shrugged, “I’m not that good with ladies, my skills are lacking, but I think they are improving.”

“Tell me, how the hell did you land a catch like Caroline?”

Mac gave Étienne a sheepish smile, “Hell, this is embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing? I’m even more intrigued,” they had paused in their walk to watch Patches gambol over to a tree and lift a leg.

“Well, y’see three years back, she had come up to help me set up house again, my house got smoked out, there was some fire damage, figured hell, rebuild the damn thing, and once it was built up real nice, I gotta move back in there, so she volunteered to help out, being a nice gal and all… and she discovered that I really am the worst of bachelors.”

“The worst? How so? Are you burning water as well?” Étienne asked with amusement.

“Almost, she nearly had a heart attack when she learnt even though I has the washer and dryer I don’t know how to function them, I just gots m’self a maid, and she informed me that I could be saving myself 2k a month if I could figure out how to do this shit m’self.”

“You are actually paying someone 2k a month to clean ‘your house? When can I start?” Étienne joked, “I at least know how to do laundry, food service not included.”

Mac scoffed, “Hells, I don’t need ya now, b’y, I gots me a Caroline. So she decided to train me up, so I knows how to do the laundry now, but with setting up my house, and teaching me the basics of living – y’see I spend most of my time in Camp, where things are a lot nicer and catered now than before where it was a tent and a pit in the ground, anyways, diverting, after about a month in my house, hell I thought she was just there for the weekend, she was helping me get my files all sorted, and she stared at my spendin’ lookin’ at me like I was a lunatic—and she informed me that I needed a woman in my life, and I says, I have many women in my life – to which she responded the prostitutes and strippers didn’t count, a bit harsh y’know these ladies work hard for their monies no need to be disrespectin’, so I seys to her, where the hells am I gonna find a woman that ain’t a stripper or who ain’t married, other than goin’ down to the city, and she seys, hell what about me.”

“That… sounds… romantic?” Étienne hazarded as he focused upon the dog once wandering up ahead of them trying to hide his smile; for some reason the beginning of the relationship seemed almost too pure for words.  

“Well, romantic enough for me,” Mac shrugged, “Count m’self luck everyday I wake up next to her.”

“So… aren’t you afraid of her leaving you?” Étienne asked.

“She’d be sensible to,” Mac sagely replied, “But she seems to be genuinely sweet on me, so I’ll take what I can get while I can.”

“While you can?” Étienne felt like there was more not being said and he was right.

“Y’see I takes it that I may not be the same man now as I will be in 2050, my best bet is I end up like Dawson City, a mere memory but remainin’ y’know? With the oil running out no one will have a reason to stays with me. Ed says I should diversify, but it’s easy for him to say, he’s one of the remainers, I’m just one of those one industry places, flourish and then bam, dead as a duck, so I figures, live it up while I can, while I’m flush. Parts of the reason why I have a place here, no reason to have my own house in this city, my home is up north and always will be, but it’s always good to have a place to escapes to now and then. Hell, part of the reason I gave up being a city-”

“You’re not a city?” Étienne interrupted, genuinely surprised.

“Gave that up back in 1995, I am officially a population centre in Wood Buffalo.”

“Still confused.”

Flicking some ashes onto the sidewalk, Mac shrugged, “Means even when they leave I’ll still be alive, I’m the one with the hospital. Those around in my area, even if separate by distances, will still have a reason to come to me when the oil runs out… well, I hope.”

“This does not help me, what do you mean, what is a Wood Buffalo.”

“Alright, so, view it as a club, I got together with some other hamlets in the area, and instead of each of us having our own mayor, we just have the one, makes it easier for developments if we’re all on the same page. Sort of like a club, still our own identity, but working together with the same governance.”

“Sort of getting it…” Étienne puffed on his cigarette, brow crinkled in thought as he slowly sorted through the explanation, “So you find more benefit not being a city?”

“Hell not all of us can be a cultural capital like you with fancy historic buildings,” Mac laughed, “Your fate is set in stone, mine is in that black sand, here today, possibly gone tomorrow. Hence working with Brisy in developing green technology, even when the oil is gone, gives me a better chance of survival… otherwise… there is nothing for people to stay for up north. At least with you, you have a diverse enough economy that when, say, the bullshit industry goes south you can relax on some cheese, eh?”

“Bullshit industry?”

Mac shrugged, “Pick one.”

“Say, let’s get rid of the mafia,” Étienne joked.

“Ahh right, doesn’t Montreal’s cogs turn on old country corruption and tradition? That would be stripping away half your identity there, bud, might need to reconsider that.”

“To hell with that part of my identity,” Étienne spat on the ground to emphasize his dislike of corruption, “It’s done nothing but make life harder for my populace.”

“I know,” Mac shrugged, “The minute I got money the gangs showed up too, making a killing on my people by killing them with drugs, but you can’t control their decisions, just live at their whims. Hence, work hard play hard. Speaking of which, you have quite the reputation.”

“Oh?” Étienne responded a little guardedly, not sure which aspect of his reputation was about to be brought up.

“Mmhm, heard it straight from the horse’s mouth, well, Chucks mouth…”

“Which was?”

“You are even worse at cooking than I am!” Mac laughed, “He was telling me some of the disasters, trying to make me feel better when I wasn’t feelin’ so hot a few years back, I was glumly laying on his couch feeling like some sorta cripple, and I had managed to burn the toast beyond recognition, so he just sat there regaling me with all the fuckups you did, really cheered me up.”

“You’re… welcome?” Étienne was torn between bemused and embarrassed. Perhaps a little surprised, that instead of his loose morals being brought up it was some innocent topic about something everyone should know, but only those who actually paid him any damn attention knew.

“Eh well, with how he speaks about you, figured you can’t be that bad, even if we do disagree on how to fuel an economy,” he paused to stub the cigarette out under his shoe, and looked directly at Étienne, “so even if we may disagree as to the runnings of things, think we could make a try and be friends?”

“You make it sound like this will be a long-term commitment,” Étienne joked, charmed at how forthright Mac was being.

“Well, if we do it right, it will be,” Mac winked, “Hell, we should be getting back, my stomach is rumbling, the meat must be cooked.”

“How do you know if it’s cooked?” Étienne asked curiously.

Slowly, as if by magic, Mac lifted his wrist, revealing an expensive, but slightly battered, watch, “I kept my eye on the time, well, honestly, easy enough to track it by the sun, but watches are nice too.”

Turning down the block, Étienne realized that they were not retracing their previous route. “Isn’t this the wrong way?”

“No, it turns down there, and we gets back a different way, retracing steps not quite my thing, do that too much at work,” Mac made a face, “when I can, I try to avoid repetition.”

“I can understand that,” Étienne said, as he enjoyed the shade of the trees along the boulevard. The older neighbourhoods were some of his favourite, they had enough time to feel more settled, to have trees larger than a sapling to provide a canopy in the heat of the summer. Patches ahead of them rambled on, stopping now and then to sniff at something, before bounding back for a pet, and then forward again. “How long have you had Patches?”

“He’s about seven, a rescue,” Mac shrugged, “Best to give a chance to the life already livin’ than buying one not yet made eh?”

It took a moment for Étienne to process what he meant, and he nodded, “That works.”

“Plus he’s a great dog, even if sometimes he gets into a spot of trouble, can’t have a better best friend honestly, do you have a pet?”

“I have a stray cat I feed sometimes,” Étienne shrugged, “I don’t think that counts.”

“Careful there, if you give a stray too much attention they adopt you,” Mac teased as he turned down the back alley.

“I would like to see it try,” Étienne responded with some amusement, the scent of the food being cooked on the BBQ floating up to them. Without a word their pace quickened, as if in some sort of silent agreement they had decided that the faster they returned to the house the better.

“So, do you like the house?”

“Yes, it’s quite energy efficient,” Étienne absently responded.

“Yeah, it was sort of what inspired Caroline to get me and Brisebois to start up the business, sort of our kickoff project, and boy, Chuck was a terrible client, really bossed us about what he wanted concerning his little nest there,” Mac lifted the latch on the back gate, and opened it, allowing Patches to enter first, and then Étienne before he followed.

Patches bounded up towards the hens, which had been briefly napping in the shade, giving a booming bark. Étienne panicked, the dog was ten times larger than the hens, what if he ate them? Mary-Anne let out a squawk and ran away, which only inspired Patches to chase after her, snapping playfully. Not comprehending that no one was running to her defence, Étienne jumped into action, quickly rushing forward and scooping Mary-Anne out of harm’s way, only to have her frantically flap her wings in his face, and then out of his grip, drifting to the ground next to Henrietta. Patches thinking that Étienne was joining in the game barked joyfully, tail wagging like mad, before turning back to the chickens, barking at them.

Out from the far corner, like a freight train, Esther arrived to defend her distressed mates, giving a loud threatening growl. Patches’ ears flattened down, and he lowered his head, and sunk down onto his front paws, allowing Esther to give him a smart peck on the nose, and scold him into silence.

Confused, Étienne looked at the scene, with Henrietta and Mary-Anne acting as if nothing had happened as they primly pecked on the ground, then back to Esther, satisfied with her scolding, who turned her evil eye upon him.

“Wha-?” he turned towards Mac, who was failing to suppress his laughter, and then to the people on the patio, Calvin, spatula in hand, a wide grin on his face, and Edward, who had been setting out the condiments, face screwed up in silent laughter, and then, he finally looked at the source of the loudest source of laughter- Caroline, hands holding a lidded dish, laughing fit to burst.

Managing to get some speech out, between some guffaws, Mac finally said, “Patches ain’t got shit on Esther, she’s the boss and everyone knows it.” This was all he managed to get out, as he gave Étienne a hearty backslap, before proceeding towards the patio.

Feeling extremely embarrassed, Étienne took a step forward, only to be met with a loud squawk. Looking down, he realized Esther had moved in front of him, and was flapping her wings, giving him a look. Confused, he looked up towards Edward, probably the only one who could interpret what she wanted.

“Pick her up,” Edward advised, “she wants to be snuggled.”

“Hell no,” Étienne responded, “Don’t you remember when-”

Impatient, Esther pecked at his foot and let out another squawk. With a sigh, he bent down and awkwardly picked her up.

“Hold her closer to your chest,” came the instructions, which Étienne followed.

Preening for a moment, Esther settled against his chest and closed her eyes, Étienne awkwardly stood there, until Ed informed him that he was allowed to walk and hold a chicken at the same time. Slowly he shuffled forward, and slowly up the stairs, every now and then shooting Edward a “help me” look. Wiping his hands on his apron, Edward smiled, and shook his head, “She’s yours now, Étienne, you’re going to have to hold her till she is satisfied.”

“But I want to eat food!” Étienne exclaimed, as he slowly sat in one of the chairs.

“Hmmm that is an issue,” Edward said in a playful tone, looking towards Calvin, “Do you think our guest deserves some food?”

Crinkling is brow as if in thought, Calvin said, “Well….”

“Hell, just feed him, Eddy,” Caroline suggested as she opened up the butter dish, “It’s your chicken.”

“I- what-” Edward begun in confusion, looking at her.

“What she means is,” Mac patiently mansplained, “If Étienne has to pet Esther there, you gotta feed him.”

“Yeah,” Caroline nodded.

“Corn is ready,” Calvin announced, placing them onto a plate.

Mac and Caroline helped themselves, and after a moment, Edward put the corn holders onto the corn, and added the butter, before sitting next to Étienne.

“This is really good corn from Taber, it’s known to be sweet and this is the best time to eat it, fresh from the farm,” Edward was explaining, as he held it out in front of Étienne’s face, apparently deciding that he did in fact need to feed him.

Leaning forward, Étienne took a bite of the corn, butter dripping down his chin as the sweet grain opened up in a flavourful burst in his mouth, he wanted another bite. Unfortunately, Esther had perked up to the corn nearby, and as he went to take another bite, her head appeared in view, scaring Edward, who accidentally dropped the corn onto the ground, which was leapt upon by Esther in a triumphant gesture, who quickly began to gobble it up.

A moment was taken, as they processed the scene, and then, giving a snort, Ed gave Étienne a rueful look, and carefully joked, “Taber-nac, eh?”

“Oh my god,” Étienne snorted, and began to laugh, “That’s terrible.”

“I know I know, but it means I can eat now,” Edward stood up, “You should wash your hands, petting chickens is not always the cleanest.”

“Yes sir,” Étienne said as he stood up, “So long as you guys save me some of that delicious corn.”

“And elk,” Mac added between a mouthful of corn.

“And elk,” Étienne said as he went into the house to wash up.

When he came outside again, he was met with the unpleasant visage of the neighbour that tried to kill him before chatting to Calvin over the fence.

As he settled down with a full plate, he caught drifts of the conversation, deciding that it was better not to engage.

“You serious? You said this started at three!” Edith’s voice penetrated the yard, and Étienne looked to see her rounding onto the patio, pie in hand, looking irritated.

“Sorry, they showed up early,” Edward apologized.

“You better have saved me some corn, otherwise none of y’all are going to get my Flapper pie.”

“Corn has been saved,” Calvin reassured, turning away from his conversation with the neighbour, which seemed to have ended anyway.

Setting the pie onto the table, Edith grabbed herself a plate and stood pointedly next to Calvin, who filled it up, and sat down across from Étienne.

“You could have texted me,” she was still complaining to Edward, “You always do this, just assume I just know the change in plans.”

“Sorry,” Edward apologized again, “I figured you were coming here soon anyway-“

“Warm elk isn’t as good as freshly cooked elk,” she scolded.

Étienne looked over to Calvin, who was powering down the grill, as he came to join them and poured all the toppings possible onto his elk, scooping the cheesey mashed potatoes onto his plate, and digging in.

“Edith, is that a new tattoo on your sleeve?” Caroline’s voice interrupted the scolding, and Edith was having a favourable response to this, allowing the tension to easily dissipate. Instead of being on the sidelines, Étienne found himself drawn into the conversation, discussing favourite tattoo artists with the two women, and getting into a heated argument with Edith over which artist had the best lacing technique.

It was a surprise when his fork hit empty plate, when suddenly the Flapper pie was being served out, the conversations once more changing and turning in the comfortable atmosphere, Edward deep in talk with Mac, about something Étienne had no clue about, but it seemed business related.

As he looked towards Calvin, who was trying to defend the cowboy boot sandal to Edith, Étienne found himself being engaged by Caroline on a different topic, unable to be neglected in this small group. A small part of him was jealous, jealous that at home, it was not as easy as this to get along with his family.

[tauers-go-dutch]

Barcelona: Where all the sangria was had

We caught a late flight on Friday to Barcelona for a long Easter weekend. We saved Saturday as a day for exploration. We started the day with brunch, of course, and it did not disappoint. We then strolled into the main parts of town, down Las Ramblas and through the gothic quarter. It probably makes more sense to allow the photos to document our day. The day ended on the docks at La Barceloneta followed by a fancy dinner at a Spanish tapas place. I had made reservations for 8 pm and we were the first ones to the restaurant. They really do run on a different schedule in Spain!

The following is an excerpt Ryan wanted to write due to an entertaining experience while on the docks: 

After Mariah and I walked around all day, we sat down at the pier to relax. Next to us was a British family. Two young boys play with the birds as their mom and dad watched on. However, the situation became a lot more fun when the oldest brother (probably high school freshman) joined his family. He apparently really wanted to get to the Barcelona FC football (soccer) game, but is also passionate about his rests (naps). I shit you not, this kid actually recited the following monologue.  Cue cheesy, nasally stereotypical British accent: "Mother," the brother said, "we really should get back to the hotel. We need to have a proper rest before the match.  If we don't leave now, we won't have time to get dinner before the match." After a pause, he continued, "Oh, well I know. I suppose we could get a hot dog at half time." I think what sold it for me was the fact that his parents completely ignored his complaints. He must do this sort of thing all the time. I was on the floor laughing at the absurdity- it was amazing.

The park where we decided Barcelona is our new favorite place

Gaudi’s Casa Battlo

Some of all of the sangria

Barcelona’s official cathedral, The Cathedral of the Holy Cross and Saint Eulalia. It was impossible to get a decent photo, as it was surrounded by buildings on all sides. 

Barcelona’s Arch of Triumph. Actually built for a World Fair. 

The only kind of lobster I like

View from the pier 

We got up early Sunday morning, Easter, and walked to the Hard Rock Cafe to meet up with a tour group. We hopped on a bus with some new friends from Atlanta currently living and working in Helsinki and were off to Montserrat. Now, I had heard of Montserrat several years ago and had always wanted to go after seeing the incredible photos online. I must say, it definitely lived up to expectations. Legend goes, according to our tour guide, that a black statue of the Virgin Mary was found on the mountain. The dude who stumbled upon her tried to take her down the mountain to show the village people, but she eventually got too heavy to be moved! Instead, the people decided that must be where she was meant to stay, and they built a monastery around her. Some believe it is also the location of the holy grail, and people frequently make pilgrimage to the mountain.

Anyways, we went into the chapel in time for Easter service and had the privilege of hearing the world’s oldest formal boys’ choir sing. Afterward we had the opportunity to explore the mountain. We hiked up to St. Michael’s cross and took in the incredible views of the valley before hitting up the gift shop to sample the liquors made by the monks right there on the mountain. (It was delicious. If we could have taken liquids on the flight home with us, I am certain a bottle or two would have made its way back to Amsterdam!)

View from Montserrat

Outside the monastery 

The black Virgin Mary is up there ^^^

A smaller chapel located on Montserrat

St. Michael’s Cross and the view of Montserrat from the cross(top pic).

The second half of the day was reserved for wine tasting. We had a delicious lunch on the winery grounds then had a quick tour and finally got to taste some wines. Again, delicious, and if I could have taken a bottle home I definitely would have. The area is known for its Cava, similar to Champagne, but the winery we visited actually focused more on red blends. The winery, Oller del Mas, has been owned and operated by the same family for more than 1,000 years. I was slightly disappointed not to have been the heir of that castle…

Lunch on the winery’s golf course. Montserrat in the background.

Ryan helping Sandra explain wine fermentation

Wine tasting in a castle! 

After our tasting we headed back to Barcelona, where the night was still young. Our lovely tour guide, Sandra, recommended several restaurants to us, and we chose a taco place she said was popular with young locals. Best Mexican I’ve had in eight months!

Easter Monday, which is a national holiday in most of Europe, we had a second tour lined up. This time we were going to a region called Costa Brava. I chose it because it had beautiful pictures of beaches. Ryan chose it because Game of Thrones. Win-Win!

The day started in a small town north of Barcelona called Girona, which may be the most charming place I’ve ever been. (I tried to find a good In Bruges meme to insert here, but a quick google search is not turning up a whole lot.)

We explored the old Arab bath grounds then made our way up to the city walls. We walked the length of the city, taking in the scenes from above, before heading back to our meeting point. However, not before crossing the Eiffel Bridge, or the Pont de les Peixateries Velles, and stopping for some fancy ice cream from a chef who owns the only 4-star restaurant in Catalonia. It was so good. So. Good. I don’t think I can eat Ben & Jerry’s ever again. (Those of you who know me well know that’s a lie.) But-- it was so good. I got a lavender coconut ice cream with lavender-flavored marshmallows, honeycomb and strawberries. Ryan got a silly nose-shaped popsicle.

Girona

Several Game of Thrones scenes have been filmed in Girona, including Arya’s fight and flight through the narrow passageways to escape the Waif.

Jaime Lannister climbed that tower.

Eiffel’s lesser known work, Girona’s  Pont de les Peixateries Velles

World’s best ice cream gelato. And a weird red nose. 

Then it was time to hop in the van and head towards the coast. We stopped a small town called Pals for about half an hour then ended up in a true little coast town called Palafrugell. (Basically our tour guide walked us to a shop in Pals that gives him kickbacks if his tourists shop there. He literally made us wait outside while they gave him free liquors. Oh well.)

Quick stop in Pals

Palafrugell was absolutely beautiful, but unfortunately just a bit too chilly to enjoy the beach to its full potential. We stepped into a small beachside seafood place where I made the ultimate sacrifice of giving up a meal I might actually eat in order for Ryan to have some seafood paella. With risotto and paella dishes throughout Italy and Spain, we always found that at least two people have to order for them to make it. I don’t particularly like eating meals with bright orange crustaceans involved, but I gave in and tried to eat some of the rice. Unable to get a bite without bright orange antennae stuck in my fork, I gave up and let Ryan enjoy his meal. After an hour or so exploring the little beaches, we hopped on the tour van back to Barcelona and ended the night in a cool little beer bar called CocoVail. I had some stellar tacos and sangria, while Ryan tried out some local brews and filled up on chicken wings.

How I feel about meals involving exoskeletons

Cool street art

Tuesday, our last day in town, was all about Gaudi. But first, breakfast. We went to a place called Brunch & Cake and pancakes will never be the same. I had green tea matcha pancakes with a strawberry syrup and Ryan had a waffle topped with scrambled eggs and gravy. Glorious. Then we headed to Barcelona’s top attraction, La Sagrada Familia.

Yes, we take photos of our food. 

The basilica has been under construction for more than a century, with a potential completion date of 2026. Gaudi was one of many architects to work on the church, and he died in a tram accident before it was even a quarter of the way finished. We bought extra tickets to go up one of the finished towers, and we chose the Nativity Tower. It was incredible to see workers meticulously placing tiny mosaic pieces on new construction ten feet away from statues that have been worn down by the weather for more than 100 years. I’ll let photos tell the rest.

Apologies for the photo dump here

After the basilica we headed north for Gaudi 2.0: Park Guell. Gaudi designed this park with another architect for the wealthy residents living on the hill in northern Barcelona. We spent about two hours wandering through the park and hiking behind it before making our way back down the hill.

Inside Park Guell. Gaudi lived in the house on the left for a bit. 

The entrance to Park Guell

With about two hours until we had to be at the airport, I insisted we hit up Las Ramblas again, so that I could have a second serving of that lavender coconut ice cream. The ice cream shop, called Rocambolesc, had two locations, and I wasn’t going to pass it up. We got our ice cream and strolled back to our hotel to grab our bags and head back home.

Gelato 2.0 to wrap up a wonderful trip

[thoughtsgarden35]

2018.

2018 has ended and I want to at least write something about it before I totally forget what this amazing year made me or gave me, whatsoever. 

I remember I welcomed 2018 with JB’s family at their home. I was assigned at NPMC during that time and I was on New Year’s duty. I brought two gallons of ice cream and my very timid face. I was of course happy that I would not be welcoming the year in the office, but in a household full of smiles. This is actually the first time that I welcomed a new year in another family’s household. Nevertheless, I was super overwhelmed to be there during that time. The very second that 2017 left and 2018 entered, I was standing right beside JB. Thank you Lord for that. 

1st Alumni Homecoming- Sir Bolanos is a member of the host class for alumni homecoming 2018, thus we were all encouraged to attend the event. Coming back to my beloved Alma matter gave me this one of a kind feeling of happiness and excitement. Marching in the hallowed grounds of Borromeo along with the cavaliers and being the last class in the long gray line made me prouder that I was able to surpass the rigors of cadetship. Another thing is that I was able to hang around with my classmates who I spent the best four years of my life with. I realized how much I missed them. We are now on our own ways, own BOS and own paths. However with God’s grace, our class will always stand and be resilient as one SALAKNIB. 

On my 22nd birthday, JB gave me this little book of encouragement and inspirational quotes. It is tiny but the motivation that it can give you is enormous. I hosted a dinner at Yakimix with the close friends from NPMC and some classmates. A week later, JB flew to his first deployment in the south. It was his first trip via plane and our first time to be really on LDR. I remember accompanying him to the airport, seeing him walk through the gates and going back to BNS alone with water in my eyes. This is the profession that we chose, this is the career that we got ourselves into and this will be the setup of our relationship and of our lives for the next 20 or so years. 

On the 12th of April, I found myself reporting at OCNS as ADC. Yes, it happened very quickly. I think I wrote an article about my gloom about the idea of me being an ADC to whoever. When I was interviewed for the position, I, of course, answered enthusiastically. I corresponded as if I really wanted it. Maybe because I was taught to accept whatever is given to me. Thus, the issuance of orders hastened. It turned out, I am one lucky fucking ens to be of assistance to this well respected, outstanding and highly professional officer. I did not knew then, but I am blessed to be where I am now. 

One of the highlights of 2018 is when I got this schooling in Australia. This course was not originally for me, but who am I to refuse such incredible opportunity. My processing of the requirements became a lot easier because I am at the OCNS. After going through the procedure, I finally boarded Qantas airplane and flew for eight hours to Sydney. Their craft-superb; the airport-majestic and their English-very different (as expected). We waited for a couple of hours in Sydney before landing another craft for our flight to Melbourne. Again, one fancy flight to the number 1 most liveable city in the world. I spent a week at DITC for familiarization and orientation program. For five days, after every class, I went out to the city to not miss a chance to explore the wonderful place. Melbourne star, federation square, Flinders street station, Melbourne trams, Uni’s, I forgot the name of the river, their gigantic park, etc. I literally forgot their names and I am lazy to find it out in Google. After my 5 days, we flew back to Sydney for my course proper. That was in HMAS Creswell, Jervis Bay, New South Wales. During my 3 weeks stay there, I was able to explore the wonderful city of Wollongong, Sydney and Canberra. Thanks to the Jovin, my highschool friend who is a cadet at ADFA, Crystal, Teban’s college friend who is a resident nurse at Wollongong, Mr and Mrs Palenzuela and other PMMA graduates who became our foster family in Sydney. After a month of vacation (because NOLC was not really a course for someone like me), I went home with a thankful heart. 

Being an ADC kind of made my year gone so fast. I go to sleep every night equipping myself with everything that needs to know for tomorrow’s schedule and I wake up every morning making sure everything is ready for the day. I survived every single day carrying my bag on my left hand and with my two phones on the right. Every day, I see my boss everywhere. Every event, I make sure to get a nice photo and document it on his files. I get schedules of the navy’s top 3 from time to time and every changes in the schedules freaks me out. Every Saturday, I do my laundry and have my uniform ironed every Sunday. That is basically what I can recall from most of the mid 2018.

Moreover, our travel to Cebu, Zamboanga and Davao became as easy as a travel from HPN to GHQ. I experienced staying for several times in various hotels and FOIC’s cottages. One of the good things on it is that I was able to pay a visit to my classmates who are assigned in these areas.

One ordinary day in August, I received a call from JB and I was beyond happy. I actually get that kind of feeling every time I see his name popping in my phone. However, during this call, I sensed sorrow in his voice. He called to tell me that his nanay came to rest. I was a thousand miles away from him but I can feel right in that moment the sadness in his aura. It is one of the rare moments. A week after, he came for his emergency leave and we went straight to their house- the same house where we welcomed 2018. It was horrible. His mom was there and so were other of his family members. The scene was heart breaking. I hope every one of them were not miserable because their nanay was gone, but happy because she is now up above with God. As for me, I am very fortunate to have the pleasing opportunity to meet her. I know nothing about anything because I am just somebody, but with the little time that I got to have known her, I can say she is an amazing person.

October 2018, we travelled to China for the first ever ACMEX. Another first for me, another reason to thank God for a very astonishing year. We stayed for over a week in that gigantic nation. Together with Maam Myla and some senior officers, we boarded South China Planes going to Guangzhou. We stayed in a very beautiful 5 star hotel in the province- the White Swan hotel. I enjoyed the bath tub and the Jacuzzi in my room, thank you very much to our Chinese counterparts. At the night of our first day, we traverse the mighty Pearl River overlooking the vast buildings and colourful lights of the city. By the way I also enjoyed talking to my PLA counterpart who like me is not very fluent in English. After a couple of days, we flew to Zhanjiang via their PLA airforce craft. We checked in at Sheraton hotel and again, thank you for the huge tub! Our trip to China made us see how technologically progressive is this country. Imagine a hundred drones can be controlled by a single person in a single computer with them forming any letters or image in the sky. Some of them can even deliver your food right to your footstep. They have big ones that can be used for transportation and many other features that of course were not showcased to us, because they are who they are. They also have advanced ships, planes and weapons that are nothing compared to what we have. From a personal view, however, these innovations cannot ever surpass a nation that has compassion and people who are mindful of others.

Yuletide season came in quickly. I had no idea how the holidays would be for me, but I knew then that I would be delighted with the days to come, undoubtedly, I did. Christmas party at OCNS was simply amazing. My boss wanted it to be for the children of the men and women of our office. Magicians, singers, dancers and other entertainers were rented to grace the party. Our gathering ended at night with the parents happy because their children were happy. The next day, I was the OIC of the Support Group for the Christmas party of the Hinirang Class. After all the stress, I was delighted for the appreciation we received from my upper class men. The HPN Christmas party was my last day for 2018 at the office (of which, I am so thankful for).

Before heading home for the much awaited break, my fortune never ended for I had a couple of days free to spend with JB. We went strolling to the mall, watched movies, bought stuff and had our picture taken at a photo booth. This is how our dates are like. Simple things but each other’s presence makes it extraordinary. We also had lunch with his mom and a cousin at their favourite restaurant. Simply great.

Like the famous catch line from our local network, family is love. Indeed, family is what makes Christmas special. I realized lucky I am to have been able to spend it with my family. Nothing can ever compare to the joy that the completeness of my family brings. We went hiking on the 25th and enjoyed each other’s company to the fullest. On the 26th, we went to a photo studio and our happiness was captured in frames. Afterwards, we had a sumptuous lunch at Hill Station. Mom and dad went to North Haven for their three and a half hour relaxation time and the four of us went to try our thinking skills at Locked-In (for the record though, we did not made our way out of the room, sad but fun).

We spent the remaining days of 2018 watching movies of varying genre in Netflix, cleaning the house, doing laundry, making fun of Lynette and attending masses (in compliance to mother dear). We travelled to buguias on the 29th for Buansi reunion. I realized that my generation is no longer the one that runs around the house or builds blanket houses. We sit by the oldies and talk serious matters now. Yes, adulting realizations. I and mom went back to Trinidad first hour the next day because my dad was not feeling well. Forever thank God, my father was born stronger than the carabao.

We waived goodbye to 2018 and greeted 2019 lying in the couch and hugging our pillows. No fireworks nor loud noises were made inside our house. We just thanked God for we are complete, safe and sound were able to be there.

So this was my 2018- full of things to be grateful for. I do not know how to convey my thankfulness for just everything. I realized that I owe it to myself and to everyone to spend the coming years working in every manner that I can to repay the every goodness that I have received.

And I, thank You!