#meine was trained too for plot reasons

[cepheusgalaxy]

meine lore: magic is actually pretty difficult to cast. let's say you have a fireball power. you have to be pretty skilled to light your finger up like a little candle, and it'd be a feat to make actual flames come out of your hands. even more to make something actually big, like a super cool fire storm.

it's common in fiction for characters to pull incredible displays of skill and power though. like in those shounen anime where a kid will be jumping fifty meters up in the air with sheer legpower and everyone will be like "oh ye. what amazing Training she has" or something. (in these cases it's also common for literally everyone have normal boring skill levels and then the main characters are like That)

but like your actual physical atributes, you can improve at them with some training tbh. but like PE, school levels of magic is under basic, if you want to get better at it you can take (expensive) private classes, or go to the gym and dedicate tons of time for that.

(that was my solution for "aughhh i don't wanna think about how most people having magic in a common world would impact society" actually. not that big of a problem if most people can't do shit with their powers am i right)

[kyriethesquishysquid]

Betrayal Never Felt So Good (König/Fem!Reader) Chapter 1

You can find Chapter 2 here, Chapter 3 here, Chapter 4 here, Chapter 5 here, and Chapter 6 here!

Summary: The reader is a military nurse currently employed by Shadow Company. She was sent out with a small team into the middle of nowhere to gain intel on the enemy, her presence only a precaution as it should have been an easy in-and-out mission. Unfortunately for the Shadow team, KorTac had also been working on a lead in the same area. One thing led to another and the reader was forced to watch as her team was slaughtered mercilessly. Rather than kill her as well, she was taken back as a hostage and kept captive by the group's colonel, König.

Word Count: ~8.5K

Rating: Mature (For Smut)

A/N: To preface this story - I’ve never played the storyline of any COD games, nor do I know a damn thing about the military, much less special forces, so there will be inaccuracies galore, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless! My take on König is somewhere between the headcanons of him being a ruthless psycho and a shy bean. Also, don’t come at me with complaints of this not being realistic, please. This is fanfic, loves. It doesn’t have to be realistic. Plus, if I was the one captured by this tree of a man and he was interested? Morals and reality be damned. I’m hopping on that train lmfao. Also, I wrote this entire thing in less than 24 hours and was too eager to post it to do a bunch of editing, so please excuse any errors!

Important Details: Occasional use of Y/N. Reader appearance is left vague but is described in little details such as being short (no exact height used), chubby, and with hair at least long enough to be pulled back. This story is essentially porn with plot, so literally over half of this is smut.

TW: Body shaming, violence, and attempted assault from random asshole #1. A few insecurities surrounding weight by the reader. Canon violence toward others by König. Super fast burn, unprotected sex, oral, fingering, Dom/Sub, multiple orgasms, squirting, creampie, suggested Stockholm syndrome (but really reader is just a touch-starved, thirsty bitch for Gentle!Giant König), pet names (in English and German), bad German translations bc I’m a lame monolingual American, no beta we die like the jackass Graves. Crappy Translations:

Ich werde dich mit deinen eigenen Eingeweiden füttern, bevor du diesen Satz beenden kannst! - I will feed you your own intestines before you can finish that sentence!

Maus- Mouse

Süßes mädchen - Sweet girl

Heilige Scheiße/Scheiße - Holy shit/shit

Mein schatz - My darling

Mein Gott - My god

Kleines - Little one

Verdammt, sieh dich an, kleine Maus - Damn, look at you, little mouse.

Oh, du kleine Füchsin! - Oh, you little vixen!

It was probably stupid. Scratch that, you knew it was stupid, but you couldn’t help but enjoy the company of the large Austrian man before you. Despite being the one to kidnap you and keep you tied up in this basement-like room for almost a full day now, the conversation had been flowing between you two like you were good friends. Maybe it was the gentle way he was treating you. Maybe it was the fact he’d kept his promises to you thus far. No matter the reason, you knew it was dangerous, this trust growing between you and him, but you were going to lean into it nonetheless.

“Hey, uh, I- I promise I’m not complaining but… why haven’t you, ya know, hurt me yet?” you asked softly. 

König let out a heavy sigh, his mask fluttering around his face temptingly before he dropped back into his chair. It was hard to see his eyes from across the room but you were certain he was staring at you nonetheless. His gaze was heavy anytime it was on you, palpable in a way that made goosebumps crawl over your skin. 

“You’ve given me no reason to,” he replied after a moment, “And, in all honesty, you weren’t our original target. In fact, it should have been anyone but you.”

You almost asked why, but he was quick to continue his explanation as if he hadn’t even stopped. 

“You’re a nurse, ja? A nurse who does not see combat often, according to the intel we’ve been able to gather about your team, and that means you have little to no information we need.”

A warmth crept up your neck as he casually talked about you as if you were nothing of import, essentially a useless captive. It made your heart sting in an odd way. 

“Ah… I see,” you hummed quietly. 

“So now, we wait until your squadmates come in for the rescue, and then we get what we need from them.” 

You managed a little nod but it stopped short when an embarrassingly loud rumble emanated from your stomach. Eyes widening, you nervously glanced his way to see if he’d caught it, only to find him getting to his feet. 

“My apologies. You’ve been here quite some time with nothing but water. Let me go grab something for you.”

Before you could argue, he was out in the hallway, instructing one of the guards to step inside and keep an eye on you until he returned. The instant the young brunette stepped into the room, something felt off. Why? You weren’t sure. Maybe it’s just because you’d grown used to the “comfort” of your kidnapper. More than likely though, it was the way he was staring at you. 

As you were stewing in your thoughts, trying to figure out your emotions, the man crossed the room and stopped at your feet with a laugh.  

“So, you’re the broad the colonel’s been hiding? Interesting.”

The man’s words were spit with pure vile and reeked of danger. You instinctively leaned away when he reached out for your face and the disobedience was quickly rewarded with a hefty smack, tearing a cry of shock from your lips. While the sting was painful, it was nothing worse than you’d experienced before. Unfortunately, you knew he wasn’t going to stop there, the leer in his eyes enough to make your stomach uneasy as he stalked in circles around you like a predator to its prey.

“A little round for my taste, but I can see it. The colonel must have a thing for soft and small. Probably because he’s a fucking mountain. Opposites attract and all that jazz,” he snickered, “Too bad the bastard is too scared to just take what he wants. But don’t worry sweetheart, I’m not a little bitch like him.”

Hearing him talk about König in such a way did weird things to your body. Anger began to rear its head. What kind of person talked about their commanding officer that way? You may not have been a full-blown soldier in the practical sense but you could never imagine speaking filth like that about your superiors. 

“Just because you lack the self-control to be a decent human like him doesn’t mean everyone does,” you bit out through a glare, “I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last human on earth.” 

He paused, eyebrows flying up in surprise, and, for one silly little moment, you’d thought you’d gotten through to him. Then reality struck hard with his fist across your face. A scream escaped your lips as the pain finally registered through the shock, your cheek aching to the heavens. 

“Now, see, you just had to go and be a smart ass. And here König talked about how compliant you were. Don’t tell me you got a hardon for the colonel, sweetheart,” he touted with a cackle, “And, for your information, it wasn’t a request. Either you can suck it up and make this easy, or I’ll take what I want either way.” 

Before he could do anything more, you tilted your head back and screamed, long and loud, for König. Of course that wasn’t allowed for very long. His second punch cut you off instantly, causing your vision to swim as you cried out again. You could hear him mutter something under his breath and you brought your eyes up only to find him drawing his fist back once more. 

“Fuck!”

You braced for impact, tears slipping down your cheeks through your clenched eyes, but the sound of a door crashing open interrupted his assault. The sound of a solid thud and a scream of pain tore your attention to the sudden group piling into the room, then more specifically to your captor-turned-savior pinning your assailant to the floor by one knee on the smaller man’s back, his arms wrenched behind him in a way that looked horrifying. He was snarling words in a mixture of German and English but you weren’t able to make out a single thing as you watched on in awe while he slammed the man’s face repeatedly into the concrete floor. 

“You are lucky I don’t kill you now!” König thundered, voice echoing through the room. 

“I- I’m sorry, I-”

“Nein! Ich werde dich mit deinen eigenen Eingeweiden füttern, bevor du diesen Satz beenden kannst!”  

Shivers crawled up your spine at the ruthless aggression in König’s voice. It was new, unexpected, and you were suddenly even more grateful not to have been on the receiving end of his anger. 

“Take him to his room and see to it that he does not leave. I will deal with him later,” König hissed, shoving the now bruised and bloody soldier toward the two at the door. 

“Yes, colonel, right away, sir.”

The moment the door closed, he deflated, shoulders slumping as he pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something under his breath. You watched carefully as he closed the gap between the two of you. 

“I’m sorry, maus, are you hurt?” 

And instantly, it was like that war-hardened soldier had never existed, replaced once again by the gentleman you’d spent the last few hours with. You shook your head slightly and watched him kneel before you. A little smile twitched up the corners of your lips in amusement as you realized he was still taller on his knees than you were sitting in the chair.

“Nothing that I can’t handle anyway,” you replied quietly, voice trailing off as his hands cupped your face gently.

His touch was tender in ways you hadn’t expected as he shifted your head around, taking in the damage with a sigh. Thankfully, other than a sore and swollen cheek, that asshole hadn’t gotten the chance to do anything more before König had returned. 

“Thank you.” 

The giant before you froze, looking as surprised as you felt. Had you really just thanked your captor? Face warming, you watched him watch you. You could have taken it back, but not only would that have been weird, it would have been a lie. Because as far as hostage situations went, this was the best one you could imagine, and he had just saved you from one of his own when he could have turned a blind eye. Instead, you waited patiently for him to react.

“Hurting someone defenseless is cowardly,” he muttered lowly.

So the infamously ruthless König had an honor code. Interesting. That explained a lot, really. If it weren’t for the fact you’d seen him kill multiple of your allied Shadows with a brutality unparalleled, you’d think he wasn’t the revered Operator he really was. The silence grew in leaps and bounds, a strange charge in the air between you, until the moment was interrupted by another untimely growl of your stomach.

“Ah, yes, food!”

He grabbed a brown paper bag from beside the door and brought it over only to pause once he was in front of you once more. 

Confused, you watched on as his eyes darted around you in obvious thought before you finally broke the silence with a soft, “König?”

As if snapped out of a trance, he rushed over and snagged the black folding chair from across the room just to plop it loudly on the floor at your feet. He quickly took a seat and started opening the bag.

“I apologize but I can’t exactly unbind you,” he spoke softly, “Not yet, anyway.”

Your heart began to race at the implication. He was going to feed you. It was hard to decipher how you felt about it, a potent mixture of surprise, adoration, lust, and embarrassment hitting you all at once. 

“O-Oh, okay,” you mumbled.

Eyes lowering, you watched in interest as he carefully peeled an apple and cut it into bite-sized slices with a fancy-looking pocket knife. It was hilarious how tiny his massive hands made the fruit seem. All humor drained from your thoughts when he picked up a piece and slowly brought it your way. 

König’s eyes were wide beneath the sniper hood when you glanced up but you quickly dropped your gaze once more self-consciously as you parted your lips. Before you could stop it, a mortifying moan of delight fled your lips as you crunched into the deliciously sweet fruit, but you couldn’t find enough fucks to care as the hunger in your belly ramped up. When he picked up the next piece, you preemptively opened your mouth in wait. 

This continued on for quite some time in a comfortable silence until you swallowed the last piece and you almost whined at the loss. Thankfully, it seemed he wasn’t done. He snagged a block from the bag next and your mouth watered as you finally realized it was a brick of cheese. Surprising, but delicious and welcomed nonetheless. The cheese passed much quicker as it was a small chunk and you couldn’t help but watch in elation as he grabbed another thing from the bag. It appeared to be the last of the food because he crumbled up the paper sack and tossed it aside before opening up the little red box. 

“Do you like dark chocolate?” he asked suddenly. 

A grin spread across your lips as you nodded a little too eagerly. 

“Of course!”

You couldn’t tell for certain, thanks to the mask, but you were sure he smiled with the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. Why was that cute? That shouldn’t have been cute. 

“These are from Germany,” he explained warmly, “A brand called Schogetten.” 

He broke off one of the small pieces and brought it to your already parted lips. As the sweet morsel melted across your tongue, you went limp in disbelief, a little whine muffled in your closed mouth. You don’t know if it was because you hadn’t eaten in almost a day, or if it was the fact it was different than your usual chocolate back home, but the flavor was unparalleled. If all your dignity hadn’t already gone through the window, you wouldn’t have certainly lost it for that chocolate. 

Piece after piece, he fed you dutifully and silently, until you were too full for more. 

“I’m- I’m glad you enjoyed that.”

His voice was low, huskier than before, and it sent flutters through your heart. 

Feeling much more relaxed and comfortable, you had to smile back in response, carefully nudging your foot against his much larger boot. 

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” you replied.

That familiar weight of his gaze was on you once more but it didn’t take long to figure out why, one hand reaching out and steadying your face while his other thumb came to wipe your bottom lip. 

“You have some chocolate here,” he mumbled.

It was sweet of him to help when you would have had no way of knowing. The feelings of adoration dissolved into something much darker when his hand went beneath his hood and you heard the audible pop of his thumb leaving his mouth. 

OH.

It seemed he realized what he was doing at the same time as you, his posture going rigid as his eyes widened. A soft curse left him as he suddenly jerked his hand back down. 

“I apologize. I don’t know what came over me.” 

Fuck. Was this Stockholm syndrome? Did that set in this quickly? It wasn’t exactly a topic you’d researched much in your nursing classes. If it was… it certainly wasn’t a bad feeling. 

Biting your lower lip, you tried to steady your breath as the flutters in your chest grew stronger. 

“It’s okay,” you assured him.

Another bout of silence filled the space between you both, but this time you were practically vibrating in your seat from the anxious excitement thumping in your veins. As you stared into his half-lidded eyes, your thoughts went wild. 

What was going to happen now? There was a static charge in the air and it made your skin bump up. How long did you have before your team came? Were they coming? Did you even want them to come now? 

Your thoughts were brought to a screeching halt when he lunged forward, hands cradling your face carefully as his mouth smashed painfully hard against yours. It was a delicate juxtaposition and your brain took a few long seconds to register what was happening, but the instant you realized he was kissing you, you melted into it with a moan. The scratch of the hood against your lips was a unique texture but not entirely unpleasant, although you’d much rather have his lips bare. 

The chair creaked with a loud groan as you tipped forward, eager for more of the Austrian and frustrated by the rope keeping you bound. 

A huff of annoyance slipped out as you snapped beneath your breath, “Fucking rope!”

“Süßes mädchen,” König groaned low in his throat.

He pulled away just as suddenly as he’d started and you actually did whine out at that, not caring how pitiful you sounded, until you saw him take out the pocketknife. Fear bubbled acridly in your throat as you swallowed hard, eyes pinned to the blade as he flicked it out. König hadn’t hurt you yet. There was no reason to think he would now… right? 

It became painfully obvious that your intuition was right when he stepped behind you and fingered the ropes. 

“Stay still, maus, I don’t want to hurt you.”

You did as instructed and we were rewarded with the freedom to move as the rope snapped and fell away. With a long, loud, groan, you leaned back and stretched up to the ceiling, a dopey smile painted on your face as you loosened all the stiff muscles. As you relaxed back into the chair, you found König in front of you once more, almost looking nervous in his stiff posture. 

“Thank you,” you said warmly. 

When you stood, you were made acutely aware of just how short you were compared to him. You’d known he was tall but seeing him now, how far you had to crane your neck back to meet his gaze, it was so different. 

“I’m trusting you not to try anything.”

His voice was tight, whether from excitement or worry you weren’t sure, and you immediately knew how you wanted to prove your trustworthiness. Grabbing one of his massive hands in both of yours, you pulled him over to the cot in the back corner of the room. It was almost comical how easily he followed you and allowed you to push him to sit on the bed but, as you stepped between his knees and got face to face, there was no denying who was actually in charge when your eyes met. If his physical presence wasn’t enough to deter you, the power in those beautiful blues was reminder enough. 

“I think I owe you, for being so kind and for saving me,” you whispered, hands cupping his jaw to mimic the hold he’d had on you, “If that’s okay, sir.” 

When he didn’t stop you, you took the chance to kiss him again. It was even better the second time around. The groan he let out against your lips was pornographic and you found your knees weakening as his arms wrapped around your thighs, hands resting right below your ass. It didn’t take long for your desire to overwhelm your thoughts and you broke the kiss with a gasp of air, carefully lowering to your knees between his legs. What you weren’t expecting was the absolute mind fuck it was to see such a big man looming above you, nor the way seeing his thick thighs on either side of your head would make your pussy throb. 

“Well, süßes mädchen?” he teased, leaning back onto his hands. 

What a sight that was; Black shirt pulled so tight across his body that every ridge of his muscles bumped through, dark green cargo pants now sporting a growing bulge, the intensity of his gaze staring you down with something akin to amusement and delight. 

You could feel your hands shaking as you reached up. What little confidence you had previously was beginning to wane at the realization that you were going to actually be allowed to touch this adonis of a man. Taking a deep breath, you steeled your nerves and got on with it. To his credit, König didn’t push you to speed it up. In fact, he praised you softly with each touch. By the time you were pulling on his boxers to get his cock out, you were beyond soaked and arousal hummed like a bee through your body. The way it slapped against his stomach once free didn’t help your predicament one single bit. 

“Holy shit.”

You weren’t a virgin by any means but the size of him made you pause in shock. Of course. A giant man would have a giant cock. What else did you expect? It was surprisingly beautiful too; surrounded by trimmed blonde hair, thick, long, and curved, flushed tip leaking and just begging to be sucked. 

Swallowing hard, you let your fingers wrap around him and moaned when your fingers didn’t meet. If you were lucky enough to do more than suck him off, you were going to be sore… blissfully, happily, sore. 

“Ah, scheiße, ja. That’s it, maus,” he purred, cock twitching in your hand. 

Your face warmed under the praise. Leaning forward on your knees, you braced your hand against one of his thick thighs before bringing your lips to the tip of his cock, pressing a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin. The hiss he drew in was delightfully guttural. You needed to hear more of him, needed to earn that praise and pay him back for his unprovoked kindness. Slowly, you moved down his cock, planting kiss after kiss until you came to the base. He was nearly vibrating with need when you finally poked your tongue out, tracing up the veins branching along the underside. 

With the way his body tensed, you’d almost thought you’d done something wrong but then his hand was in your hair, pulling it back as he guided your mouth to his head again. 

“Stop teasing or I’ll bend you across my lap, Y/N,” he commanded gruffly. 

The way your name sounded coming from his lips was deadlier than any poison. You wanted to hear it again and again, whispered in your ears and against your skin. Fuck. 

Oh, and the mental images. How did you tell him that you wouldn’t mind him spanking you at all? Hmm, an option for later, maybe? Pushing the thoughts aside, you finally gave in to your temptations and licked up the precum around his head before taking him into your mouth. 

“Heilige Scheiße!” 

His moan was heavenly in the most sinful ways, only rivaled by the little breathless whimpers he let out as you hollowed out your cheeks and slowly sucked him down. You knew there was no way you’d be able to fit the entirety of him, your jaw already aching from the stretch, but you were going to fit as much as humanly possible. Inch by difficult inch, you took him until he was pressing dangerously hard against your throat. Unfortunately, you couldn’t get your body to relax enough to take him in- your body’s self-preservation too strong- but you quickly thought of a loophole. 

Pulling back suddenly, you gasped out, “Push me down.”

“Huh?”

Giving him a coy smile, you said, “I know I can’t push past my body’s limits, but you can fix that. I want you in my throat so, please, just… push me down?”

His entire being shuddered and he took in a sharp breath as if he were going to argue, but finally, he relented with a nod. Flashing him a wink, you wrapped your lips around him once more.

“Take a breath,” he instructed softly. 

You barely got a lungful in before he arched into your face. Tears welled up in your eyes as he thrust in deep, saliva pooling in your mouth as you gagged around him, but you were able to relax just enough for him to push through. Mortification clawed at your brain as both tears and drool spilled out the instant he began to fuck your mouth, but worse was the embarrassing noises that escaped your throat. Thankfully he didn’t seem as perturbed by them, possibly even enjoying them if his groans were any indication. 

Blinking away the tears, you looked up at him and were rewarded with a pained moan.

“Scheiße, kleines maus, you look so perfect like this,” he groaned, “That pretty little mouth feels so- ah- so good.”

When he let you up, you inhaled a quick breath before going back down. Now feeling more comfortable with the sensations, you brought your hands back into play, one pumping the base of his cock while the other wiggled beneath his boxers to stroke his balls. It wasn’t long before you could hear little frantic whimper leaving his lips. The way his breath hitched and his fingers tightened painfully in your hair told you all you needed. You quickened your pace and played into the sucking noises that he seemed to relish. 

“A-Ah, fuck, I’m going to cum. B-Bitte. Bitte, bitte, bitte. Don’t stop!”

A flush of heat rushed through your core and you couldn’t help but moan around him. Something about hearing such a powerful man reduced to a pleasured mess was both arousing and flattering. His strangled gasp was the only warning you got before he slammed you down, hips arching into your face as his cock throbbed in your throat. 

Eyes burning and throat aching, you managed to pull up just enough to breathe and used your saliva to pump his cock faster. 

“Come for me, König, please,” you begged him weakly before taking him in your mouth again, your tongue laving his head lovingly. 

Almost instantly, he broke, rope after rope of cum filling your mouth as he groaned your name. As you looked up at him, you wished you could see his face, see more than just the squint of his eyes as you sucked him dry. Unfortunately, you knew you couldn’t ask that of him… yet. Maybe if you were lucky enough to be around him more, eventually you could earn that trust. 

It wasn’t until he was shuddering and tugging on your hair that you finally pulled back, content that he’d ridden out that wave as long as he could. A satisfied smile curled up your lips as you leaned your head against his thigh and watched him intently. The heavy rise and fall of his chest was enrapturing. What would it feel like to curl up against him and use those muscles as a pillow? 

You were torn from your daydreams when he patted his other thigh. 

“Up, now,” he demanded. 

Lifting your brows in shock, you let him guide you up onto the cot and sat on his thighs as commanded. 

“Yes, sir?” you asked curiously. 

König didn’t answer. Instead, a hand came to the back of your skull and jerked you forward while he sat up, a squeal of shock escaping as you fell against him hard. Before you could question him, a mouth was over yours. A decidedly bare mouth. No hood to impede it. Realization sent a shiver through your body and you couldn’t help but reach up and hold his jaw. Prickles of a shadow beard tickled your palms and fingers with each caress. There was no denying his jaw was strong, angular almost, as you soaked in the sensations. God you wanted to see him even more now. Your exploration was cut short when you felt the breach of a tongue between your lips and a hand between your thighs simultaneously. 

“König,” you gasped out softly against his mouth.

The chuckle he let out caused your core to clench in need.

“You didn’t think that I was done with you, did you, maus?”

He didn’t give you the chance to respond, tongue filling your mouth with vigor as you melted into him. You were suddenly very thankful that you’d been captured in your pajamas when his hand slipped easily beneath the elastic waist of your silky shorts. He let out a hungry groan when his fingers came into direct contact with your skin. 

“No panties?” he asked, amusement and lust heavy in his voice, “How lucky for me.” 

His words made you blush but the embarrassment was easily forgotten when one long finger ran down your cunt, tracing your slit in teasing strokes. 

“You’re already so wet, mein schatz.”

A broken snicker fled your lips as he tenderly slid two fingers between your lips and you whimpered out, “It’s not my fault you’re- fuck!” 

“I’m what?” he teased.

He made it impossible to respond, the calloused pad of his fingers making little swirls around your nub, just on the right side of not enough. 

“You-You’re, fuck, you’re- Ugh, you’re making it hard to talk!” you squeaked out. 

König let out a long rumbling laugh that felt way too nice against your chest. 

“Try, maus, tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Fuck, you’re so sweet, and you’re big, and your eyes are beautiful, and- and-” a pitiful squeal interrupted your train of thought when he slowly slipped a single finger into your cunt. 

“Annnd?” he purred. 

“I love your voice, fuck, I could listen to you read a dictionary!” you groaned.

“Mmm, good girl.”

Your knees went weak and your cunt clenched around his finger as your eyes flew open to meet his in surprise. 

“Ah, you like that, hmm? You like to hear what a good girl you’re being for me?” he asked, not-so-subtly grinding up against you with an already hardening bulge, “You’re being absolutely perfect, mein schatz. This little cunt gripping so tight. Almost as tight as your throat was on my cock. I’m almost afraid to take you.”

“No, please, please do, please! I can take it!” 

“Oooh, I know you can, süßes mädchen, don’t worry,” he hummed, quickening his finger as he twisted his palm to rest against your clit. 

Your forehead fell against his shoulder in utter defeat as you lost all inhibitions, grinding down against his palm with each thrust he gave. It was ridiculous how close you already felt with so little stimulation but there was no denying the ways your walls were flutter around him. Pleasure swirled through your core, growing tighter and tighter, until all you could think about was how fucking good he felt and how you wanted his cock in you, now.

A needy whimper fell from your lips when he suddenly pulled his hand away and you jerked back in his lap to stare at him in disbelief. 

“Wha-” 

Your voice went silent as you watched the way his tongue cleaned up his glistening fingers with a moan. Fuck. That was it. You were good and ruined. 

“I want to make sure you are good and ready, mein schatz, so lay down for me.”

Before you could even move, he picked you up as if you were nothing and dumped you onto the cot. It took a second for your brain to catch up, too shocked by the show of strength, and by then he was lying on the comically small bed on his stomach, mouth pressing hungry kisses to the insides of your soft thighs. 

“Mein Gott, you are so beautiful,” he groaned quietly, “So soft. So sweet.”

Instinctively, you slapped your hands over your face and let out a whine. No way was this beast of a man not only going down on you, but he was going to kill you with compliments while he did it. 

Almost instantly, your hands were thrown aside and you gaped at him in confusion, only to see his full lips curved up into a smirk, mask tucked behind his ears to expose even more of his beautiful features.

“None of that now. You will not hide from me. I want to see that pretty face when I make you scream.” 

Yep. You were dead. Dead and gone to heaven. When they raided the camp, you had just been killed with all your allies and this was some fucked up kind of reward for all your good deeds. 

All existential thoughts were wiped clean from your mind when you felt him tugging your shorts down. You quickly helped him, unable to stop the giggle that escaped when he tossed them aside with a curse. And then you were bare before him. He looked like a man starved and you were given no warning before he dived in. 

“Oh, fuck!” you gasped. 

Big hands wrapped around your thighs and tugged you closer, throwing your legs over his shoulders before moving to part your lips for his tongue. Before you could get used to the sensation, he thrust two fingers in your cunt, punching all the air from your lungs. 

“Scheiße kleines,” he groaned against your skin, “You taste so good. I could live between these thighs.” 

It was all too much. The swirl of his tongue on your clit, the girth of his fingers pressing oh-so-perfectly against that sweet spot only your toys could reach, the feel of his facial hair scraping against your sensitive skin. And then he added a third finger into the mix. 

“Ho-Holy fuck! König, ohmygodfuck!” 

You nearly collapsed in around him but he was quick to catch your legs, holding them apart with a hand and elbow on either side, his forearm pressing deliciously against your lower belly. That pressure alone sent you rocketing to the edge. Instinctively you reached down to grab his hair, only to come into contact with the fabric, and you couldn’t help but whine in frustration. You really wanted to touch him more. 

As if understanding your plight, he slowed until only his fingers were pumping in and out and lifted slightly. Something was brewing in his beautiful blues when they met your gaze. 

“I can’t take off the mask, mein schatz, I’m sorry,” he sighed. 

“It-It’s okay!” you assured him quickly, “I understand!” 

Despite your words, he kept staring at you, the sounds of his fingers sliding through your arousal the only noise in the room. 

“Here, close your eyes for a moment.”

You did as told, swallowing hard in anticipation, and then his hand grabbed yours. Your heart felt like it was trying to escape your chest as he guided your fingers below the hood into his short hair. It was a bit longer than you expected, having thought he would have a regulation military fade cut, and softer. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, tears invading your closed eyes. 

“Of course, maus.”

How in the actual fuck was this stranger- a literal mass killer- you’d met a day ago more in tune with your needs and willing to compromise than literally any other man you’d been with? 

A gasp tore from your throat, harsh and raw, when he immediately returned to his previous act. Somehow it was even more intense after the brief break; frantic, almost painful. 

“König, pl-please. Don’t stop!” 

His moan was the only response you got. Rather than take your words as an invitation to go harder or faster like most did, he listened and listened well, keeping the same even pace, building you steadily higher and higher. Words and thoughts became impossible, incoherent pleading and wanton moans the only sounds you could make as you began to shake around him. Your fingers snarled in his locks in a way that was probably painful but you couldn’t find the wherewithal to stop. 

“Ja, that’s it, maus,” he demanded, “Be a good girl and come for me.” 

Within seconds, that ever-tightening knot in your gut broke. You tried to scream but the pleasure left you mute, lips parted in a silent cry of his name as wave after wave of ecstasy rolled through your being. When your breath finally came, so did the tears. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck, so- mm!- so good!” 

Just as it became too much, he lifted from your pussy with a heady groan. 

“Verdammt, sieh dich an, kleine Maus.” 

The moment the orgasm haze started to clear, you reached down and snagged his shirt, tugging on it to get him over you. He relented with a little chuckle when you whined his name. 

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, clean fingers gently tracing along your jawline. 

“Okay? The fuck you think? I’m absolutely dead in the best way,” you giggle, finally opening your eyes to meet his, “But… I still want you.” 

Wrapping your legs around his hips, you reached up at the same time and carefully pushed the hood back up, just enough to reveal his lips, your own curving up into a gleeful smile as you saw them. 

“Can I?” you asked hesitantly.

His answer came as the brutal crush of his lips on yours, pulling a moan from deep in your chest. As his tongue dominated yours, you took the initiative to reach between your bodies and palmed his cock, delighting in the way he whined. 

“Please, please fuck me,” you begged against his mouth.

“Couldn’t refuse you even if I wanted to,” he hummed back. 

You helped guide him as he lowered his hips to yours, unable to stop the gasp that escaped when you felt his fat head against your entrance. 

“You’re sure?” he asked suddenly. 

Brows furrowing, you dug your nails into his neck lightly and pulled him into another hungry kiss. 

“If you don’t fuck me, I might die.” 

That earned a warm laugh, a laugh that made your insides light up too bright, and a swift smack to the ass. 

“Well, we wouldn't want that, now would we?” 

When he began to push in, you tried so hard to keep your eyes open, wanting to see the expression in his, but it was too overwhelming. Despite his thorough prep, it’d been quite a dry spell for hookups due to work and it didn’t help that he was absolutely massive. It was a stretch, to say the least, but it hurt in all the best ways. 

“Oh mein gott,” König hissed into your mouth, “You are so tight, Y/N.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m pretty sure you’re just hung, big guy,” you teased through shaky breaths, “It’s- It’s good though.” 

“So fucking good.”

The metallic tang of blood filled your mouth when he suddenly caught your lips again, this time with too much teeth and force, but it only made you moan. The pain of a split lip was nothing compared to the delight of his cock stretching your walls. It felt like forever until his hips were against yours, but once they finally were, you were already needing more. You tried to rock your hips into him only for him to stop you with a bruising grip and a dark growl. His eyes were predatory when you found them and it lit another kind of fire in your belly. 

“Dont. Do. That,” he bit out gruffly, “Don’t move. Give me a second, mein schatz, or it’s going to be over far too soon.”

Pride fluttered to life in your chest at his admission and you couldn’t help but grin, earning another cheeky smack. 

“You’re enjoying this? My pain?” he teased warmly. 

You pouted slightly but couldn’t maintain the look, too enraptured by his pretty blues. 

“I have to admit that it feels good to know you’re as affected as me,” you whispered. 

He groaned, forehead falling against yours, and muttered, “You have no idea, my love. You feel- Gott, I can’t even describe it. I’ve never felt someone who fit me so perfectly.” 

Lips quirking up into a teasing smile, you replied, “I guess you’ll have to keep me around then, hmm? Because I can promise you, you’ve ruined all other men for me at this point.” 

König groaned and his hips rutted eagerly at your words. 

“Don’t tempt me, süßes mädchen,” he moaned, “I would love nothing more than to steal you and keep you here, all mine, to have whenever I wanted.” 

As he spoke, you fell more and more in love with the idea. And why shouldn’t you? This was the most romance you’d experienced in years, all your previous conquests being quick flings with soldiers who barely qualified as friends. König was the first one to truly see you in years. 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, maus, you’re making this hard.” 

Biting your lower lip, you tested a little wiggle against his hips and were elated when he allowed it. 

“I’m already here, König, who says you have to let me go?” you whispered, “For all they know, I’m just another casualty.”

Logically you knew you shouldn’t feed into the delusion plaguing you both right now, but fuck did you want it. Something about the idea of being at his beck and call, being allowed to please him whenever either of you wanted, was a deliciously dangerous option. 

Suddenly, he drew out his hips and slammed back in with a strangled grunt. 

“You want that, hmm? Want to be my personal little whore, maus?”

The way you clenched around him made you both whimper and you instantly wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a heated kiss. 

“Yes, yes, please! Wanna be allowed to have you whenever,” you whined, “Want you to use me.” 

Your nails found his shoulders and dug into the firm muscles there as the sound of your bodies meeting clouded the room. But you needed more, needed to feel more of him. Logically you knew you both needed to stay as clothed as possible, considering you could be interrupted any moment, but you couldn’t resist the urge to touch him. Slipping your hands under the hem of his shirt, you slid your nails up the length of his back, dragging the material with you until it gathered at his shoulders and you were granted the absolutely stunning visual of his abdomen clenching with each thrust of his hips. 

“God you’re beautiful,” you gasped out subconsciously. 

The noise König let out was unholy, deep and keening, as his fingers tightened on your hips once more. Even through the haze of bliss, you could see the way his cheeks lit bright red. It would be cute if he weren’t currently fucking you silly.  

“That’s-That’s my line, maus,” he chuckled breathlessly. 

Eyes trailing back up to his, you couldn’t resist leaning up as you pulled him down against you once more, your lips finding his ear with a little moan. 

“Then we’re both beautiful, König, because- fuck!” 

His pace grew brutal without warning as he shifted and suddenly it felt like he was slamming right against your cervix, the sharp pinch of pain making you yelp in surprise. It was clear the praise was doing something, a fact you stored away in your memory for later. Then he hit your cervix again. You almost tried to pull back until his hand left your hip, coming between your bodies to rub gentle circles across your clit. Fuck and that made the pain more than worth it. 

“Kö-König, close, please, just-” 

He groaned lowly and grunted out, “I know, I know. I’ve got you, mein schatz. Just relax and let go for me.” 

You finally released your hold on his back only to cup his jaw and draw him into a frantic kiss, panting out half-mumbled half-screamed moans as he tongued at your mouth. It was all too much. It was the best thing you’d ever experienced. When your climax finally hit, it felt like the world turned up on end. Collapsing back on the bed, you slapped a hand over your mouth to somewhat muffle the scream that escaped, but König had none of that. One big hand collected both of yours and pinned them to the bed by your wrists. 

“No! Let me hear what I do to you,” he snarled, “I want to hear every pretty little sound!”.

Looking up through wet eyelashes, you couldn’t stop the enamored smile that crossed your lips even as you whimpered for him. He looked so fucking good over you. What you wouldn’t give to see that sight every damn day. 

“Why are you so smiley?” he asked, amusement lacing his tone as he slowed his pace. 

“Just really fucking happy,” you giggled softly, “You feel so damn good and look just as amazing.” 

König’s lips twitched into a half smile before he shifted in place, keeping your hands pinned while he carefully lifted one leg up over his shoulder. Before he even moved, you could tell your body was going to resist the change in depth. Not that you would stop him. He could demand you attempt a headstand while he fucked you and you’d do it.  

“Oh FUCK!”

Your shriek earned a broken moan from the man above you but it didn’t stop him for even a moment, hips slamming into you with purpose. Fingers curling tight, you dug your nails into his hand and bit your lip hard to keep a hold of your senses, though it was for naught. The way his fat cock buried into your tight walls over and over was more than you could handle. You wanted to beg him to stop and to keep going until you died. 

“So tight for me, süßes mädchen,” he groaned huskily as his free hand came back to your clit, “One more.” 

“Eh!?” you gasped in disbelief. 

He grunted out a laugh and said, “Come for me, one more time. I want to feel you coming again before this is over.” 

You shook your head violently and retorted, “I can’t.” 

Even as you said it, he was easily proving your words wrong with his gentle stroking contrasting with the way he pounded your swollen cunt. His fingers tightened until it felt like your wrists would break under the force and yet you couldn’t find it in you to care, all self-preservation long gone. 

“You can and you will, mein schatz. I am nothing but a patient man.”

A pathetic whimper tumbled from your parted lips as you panted for breath beneath the exhaustion of it all. Suddenly though, he slows, releasing your hands and letting your leg fall aside. 

“König, wh-”

He silences you as he falls completely over you once more, the heavy feeling of his body against yours making you sigh happily. It only takes a moment to realize his reasoning, hands pushing your hair away while plush lips begin kissing along your neck. 

“Mmmm,” you hummed softly, fingers slipping up the back of his hood to find his hair again, “That feels incredible.” 

“You taste incredible,” he replied through a mouthful of your flesh, “Though, I must admit, my intentions aren’t so pure.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he bit down hard, hard enough that you reflexively yanked on his hair and screeched. The pain dulled to a low throb when he started licking and sucking over the wound, and you clenched hard around him when he rolled his hips into yours. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” you whined breathlessly. 

“Only with pleasure, maus,” he said with a chuckle, “Would never hurt a hair on this pretty little head.” 

Your heart fluttered traitorously at that. Deciding to return the favor, you moved aside his hood enough to reveal his thick, pale, neck and started kissing along the warm flesh. 

“Ah, s-scheiße.”

Poking your tongue out, you traced a line up to his ear and moaned at the taste of salt and skin. Even his sweat was driving you crazy. What was this man doing to you?  

The slow motions quickly turned into something much more primal when you wrapped your legs around his waist and sunk your teeth into his throat. 

“Oh, du kleine Füchsin!”

Groaning, you released his neck and whispered, “Fuck, I love hearing you talk.” 

“Then I shall talk to you,” he grunted through moans, “What should I say? Should I tell you how good you feel, how perfect you grip me? That I never want to leave this tight little cunt? How divine you look when you’re drunk on my cock?”

Despite your earlier protests, you could feel another orgasm brewing fast under his words and you let him know. 

“Ja, you going to come for me, aren’t you, schatz?”

“Oh god yeah, yes, please, keep- keep-” 

You pulled his hair taut as your limbs drew him in close, silently demanding to feel every inch of his body against yours, and his name spilled from your lips like a mantra. This one came up just as fast but much calmer, creeping up silently and taking you by surprise with its voracity. Something deep inside you snapped and you could feel your arousal gush down your cunt, coating your cheeks and the cloth beneath you. 

“Fuck, mein schatz, where- mein Gott, where do you want it?” he gasped out as you clenched around him. 

You didn’t even give it a second thought, locking your legs and pulling him into a ravenous kiss. 

“In me, please, I’m- I’m on birth control. I need to feel it in me,” you whined weakly into his mouth. 

His curses were muffled by your lips but their intensity wasn’t lost on you, the mumbled praises only adding to the flush on your skin. You bit his lower lip gently and suckled all while your nails scraped against his scalp and shoulders, doing your best to pull him under with you. 

“Oh, that’s my girl. My good girl,” he snarled, “Mine. All mine!” 

Stars burst behind your eyes as he buried his cock as far as possible in your walls, the throbbing sending little pulses of ecstasy through your veins as you tried hard to focus on working him through it. You only hoped you could return even a fraction of the bliss he put you through. 

A long, loud groan reverberated through the now silent walls as he went limp- though stubbornly keeping all his weight from pressing on you- and you had to smile to yourself, fingers now playing through his soft strands gently, in a silent apology for nearly ripping them out. 

“I’m going to move, hold onto me,” he instructed you quietly. 

You did as asked but the way he flipped your bodies over was still a shock. You instinctively tried to lift off of him only to be jerked back down, massive arms locking around you and holding you to his chest. 

“You are not going to hurt me, Y/N,” he murmured, “Rest. Relax.”

“O-Okay,” you whispered.

Face red, you fought all those negative inner thoughts away and gave in, earning a content little sigh from the big man. 

“You know, I never thought I’d have the best sex of my life while being a captive,” you joked easily, turning your head to rest your chin on your forearm, allowing you to observe him closely, “Where have you been all my life?” 

Your head bobbled like a boat on the ocean with each hearty laugh that left him and your heart clenched in delight at the pure joy in his eyes. 

“Waiting for you apparently, maus, took you long enough to get here.”

There was something strange in the way he looked at you, the tenderness in his touch as he held your face and stroked your lips, but your cockdrunk, touch-hungry, brain decided it couldn’t care less. All that mattered was how it made you feel, and God did it ever make you feel perfect.

[brindaneer]

Inspiration and positivity are what the entire human race is in dire need of during these uncertain times. The present blog acquires additional importance for us because the film it deals with is possibly one of the most motivational motion pictures produced by the Hindi movie industry in the past few years. Penned by the inimitable Javed Akhtar, and directed by Farhan Akhtar, Lakshya showcased the progression of Karan Shergil from an aimless, albeit good-hearted soul drifting through life into a dutiful officer of the Indian Army. Karan's path of self-discovery was not merely an entertaining watch; it was also about the vital role that initiative and determination could play in our lives. Thrown in the midst of a world pandemic after a hundred years, most of us have lost these amazing qualities up to some degree at least, which is probably why pondering over this film in particular seems to be a productive job at the moment. Ironically, a film that several people have drawn inspiration from over the years (people had actually joined the Army after watching Lakshya) had been declared a 'box-office flop' during the time of its release. In that aspect, Lakshya resembles classics like Kaagaz ke Phool, Mera Naam Joker, Pakeezah, Jane Bhi Do Yaaron, and Andaaz Apna Apna, all of which failed to take the box-office by storm, but went on to obtain cult status among viewers later. Astounding? Definitely. Great films sometimes fail financially without rime or reason and unfortunately, the same fate befell Lakshya.

At its core, Lakshya was Karan's story and not a war film. The war and Indian Army provided a perfect setting for Karan to find his true calling. Nevertheless, intricacies of the Kargil war along with the destruction, desolation and pain that accompanied it, and which are also inevitably associated with all international armed conflicts in general, were far from being neglected in the story. A great writer is able to strike a balance between various dimensions of a plot without compromising on his actual intention, and who better than the legendary Javed Akhtar to achieve that? He was complimented by his talented son, the captain of this ship, who ably steered the film into a direction his father had envisaged while writing the script. Karan's metamorphosis from a lazy, casual college-going boy, perpetually confused about what he really wanted to do with life into a mature and responsible man was laced with humour and drama in equal measure, a strategy Farhan had previously employed while depicting Akash's journey in the epic 'Dil Chahta Hai'. Yet, the real genius lay in how different these two journeys actually were. Nobody could accuse Farhan of repeating what he had already done in his debut directorial venture.

Moments such as Karan listing his engagements of the day to Romi's (Preity Zinta) father upon being asked about his future plans in life and then literally hijacking that man's opinion on the importance of giving the best, no matter what the job was, to pacify his own father were examples of the witty humour we were talking about earlier. Of course, the actors took these scenes to a different level altogether. Hrithik’s delivery of ‘Main ye sochta hoon Dad’ after Karan had just rattled the ‘achcha ghaas kaatnewala’ lecture, and Boman Irani’s (Karan’s strict father) poker faced ‘Thik sochte ho’ in return have never failed to elicit roars of laughter from viewers till date. This wit pervaded most of the film’s first half as Karan continued his antics- the expression of his eternal confusion through the iconic ‘Main Aisa Kyun Hoon’ (apart from displaying Hrithik’s insane dancing skills through the choreography of the one and only Prabhu Deva, this sequence also aptly conveyed Karan’s inherent dilemmas), his decision of joining the Army only because another friend had promised he would come too, his disappointment upon being dumped by that friend, his ‘unconventional’ marriage proposal to Romi and his characteristic callousness as well as indolence even during his stint at the IMA were hilarious to say the least. Hrithik’s comic timing was pitch perfect in every scene, and perfectly suited for the nuanced, elegant genre of comedy that the script had aimed at.

Just when we thought Lakshya was a hoot, Farhan introduced the dramatic element in it; and he did so with such subtlety and ease that the ensuing sequence of events seemed to be the only natural course for the film to take. The scene where Karan fell into the pool by sheer unmindfulness during one of his drills and got punished by his commanding officer was somehow able to generate a strange mixture of sympathy as well as laughter amongst the audience and proved to be one of the watershed moments in Karan’s story. Hrithik’s masterful portrayal of humiliation as Karan knelt in front of his fellow cadets engendered such palpable discomfort within us the first time that re-watching it remains difficult even now.

The Karan that emerged on the other side of this event was somewhat different. Staying true to his fickle-minded nature, he jumped the wall of IMA and fled home. Nevertheless, regret could clearly be observed on his countenance as he sat with his parents, head bowed in shame, forced to accept defeat in front of his father- a man, who had always underestimated him. The grievance in his eyes upon over-hearing Mr. Shergill's unfavourable opinion of him hinted not only towards Karan's underlying strong ego, but also revealed his latent desire to prove himself. The hurt ego, along with his heart, was eventually completely shattered when the one person who had genuinely believed in him refused to be a part of his life anymore. Romi, played by Preity Zinta with her usual vivacity and boldness, broke up with Karan at the same place where she had once agreed to marry him because he had failed to live up to even her expectations. For Karan, someone who had probably harboured feelings of inferiority ever since childhood because of incessant comparisons with his brother, this became the ultimate betrayal. As viewers, it was our interpretation that he never really understood Romi’s point of view; he only attributed one primary meaning to her actions- her belief in his worthlessness. Looking at this entire sequence from a neutral perspective, one might say that both Karan and Romi deserved some empathy from each other. Karan’s lack of conviction in everything he did naturally upset Romi to a point where she could not imagine spending the rest of her life with him. Can we really blame her? As far as Karan was concerned, he had to bear rejection from someone, who, he had hoped, would never judge him like his dad. Before this, he had been able to bear the brunt of his father's expectations because of the security that his relationship with Romi provided him. However, when she pushed him away, he truly hit bare ground, with no one to break the fall. The scene that followed the break-up will possibly remain one of the best pieces of emotional acting in Hrithik’s career forever. As easy as it might seem, crying your heart out on screen can actually be very difficult in practice. Hrithik obviously nailed the sobs, but more importantly, he conveyed his character’s rancour towards Romi most effectively through the unspoken hurt in his eyes, thereby suitably justifying the transition Karan would undergo next.

With no comfort zone left for him to turn to, Karan did what his parents, especially his father, and Romi had always wanted him to do. He grew up. He could have sulked like a petulant child and continued to live a directionless life like he had done previously. Instead, he chose to prove himself to Romi and made that his life’s goal. Ironically, Romi had disapproved when he insisted on joining the army earlier because she felt he was doing it to rebel against his father. But this was a different Karan. He was not rebelling anymore. He was trying to show Romi that he could be much more than what everyone thought about him. Sub-consciously, it was not just she who was the reason for this transformation; rather, it was both his dad and her.

Karan’s second stint at the IMA provided viewers with some of the finest moments in the film. His dedication towards learning and training, initial isolation and finally, amalgamation into the student community were fascinatingly depicted through the brilliant title song ‘Haan yahi rasta hai tera, tune ab jana hai, Haan yahi sapna hai tera, tune pehchana hai, tujhe ab ye dikhana hai......Roke tujhko aandhiyaan, ya zameen aur aasmaan, payega jo lakshya hai tera....Lakshya ko har haal mein paana hai’. Now, let us take a brief moment to acknowledge the terrific music by Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy which truly set the mood for the film. This song in particular struck a chord with us because of the simplicity and eloquence with which it expressed the inherent message of the story. The picturization was top-notch with several nuances throughout. Few moments stand out even now such as Karan passionately screaming ‘Dhawa’ during his drill, something he had been completely casual about earlier, Hrithik’s unflinching eye-contact with the CO who had previously punished him indicating that Karan was a changed man now, and Karan’s increasing camaraderie with his batch mates.

The song was followed by two important sequences, superb for the understated nature in which they expressed first Karan’s unspoken resentment towards his father, and then, his blatant grievance against Romi. In the first, Karan’s mother informed him that his dad had wanted to attend his graduation ceremony but could not ultimately, and in the second, Karan himself called Romi to inform her that he was finally a lieutenant of the Indian Army. At this point of time, talking about Hrithik’s acting probably seems redundant. So, we apologize for the redundancy (What? Did you think we would stop talking about it? 😱😱). Karan’s casual brushing away of his mother’s statement about Mr. Shergill conveyed volumes about how he had ceased to expect anything from his father; it also revealed the disappointment he felt, courtesy of Hrithik’s amazingly layered performance. Similarly, his delivery of ‘Saare faisle tum nahin kar sakti Romi’ was spot-on. It was optimally hurtful, just like it was supposed to be.

As his job brought Karan to Kargil, Ladakh, and he met his commanding officer, Colonel Damle, played to usual perfection by the enigmatic Mr. Bachchan who managed to captivate the audience completely during the few brief moments he had in the film, as well as other colleagues, the lines between proving himself to the two important people of his life and finding his true ‘Lakshya’ began to blur. By his own confession, he had never thought about the significance of being an ‘Indian’ until his senior colleague Jalal Akbar (a brilliantly natural Sushant Singh) took him to the border (pretty prophetic that Hrithik himself went on to play a different Jalal Akbar later in his career, right?). In all honesty, a considerable section of the audience probably felt the same too. The stunning Trans-Himalayan locales shot so artistically definitely added to this feeling, although any border area is usually capable of engendering such thoughts. The landscape of Ladakh has a strange haunting quality about it, and that played a substantial role not only in making the film a visual treat but also metaphorically with respect to Karan’s journey.

As he truly began to love his job, Karan realized that he was finally ready to let go of his ego as far as Romi was concerned. Unfortunately, Romi, after a lot of thought, and pining for Karan, had decided to move on with life, much to Karan’s shock and dismay. The scene where he stood outside the venue of her engagement and watched her laughing with her fiance was one of a kind for the lack of melodrama that usually accompanies such sequences. Its speciality lay in the director’s nuanced handling of emotions and the actor’s terrific portrayal of subtle poignancy.

Run down and broken by the trials of his life, Karan returned home to his parents, only to receive news that his leave had been cancelled, and that he was urgently required to return to base. The moment where he bid goodbye to his parents was the first time when his father openly expressed love and concern for him, although not exactly in those words. The visible tension on Mr. Shergil’s face as he lost his cool and asked Karan to tell the complete truth was a testimony to his worry for his son who was about to go to a border area amidst serious disturbances. The part where Karan hugged his mother and left with just an uncomfortable glance towards his dad was another of those amazing subtle moments which characterized Farhan’s direction for this film. Hrithik’s discomfort and Boman Irani’s disappointment were both heart-rending to watch and as a viewer, one really wanted to reach out and give both of them hugs. A special thanks to Farhan and whoever was in charge of casting for signing Boman Irani in this role. Hrithik and his scenes were like mini acting classes that aspiring actors could take tips from.

Sometimes, it is difficult to get on with life, more so after losing one’s love forever like Karan had, but military training had instilled a sense of duty and discipline in him that was impossible to ignore. Of course, he had already begun to find a deeper meaning in his life through his job, especially after spending time with his superiors and colleagues. And, so he marched on. Had Romi seen his sense of responsibility even during a time when his personal life was in turmoil, she would have been proud. However, the realization that this was his true calling was probably yet to come to Karan. It did, in phases as he learnt about the war situation from Colonel Damle, and then embarked upon it.

If two people are destined to meet, even the universe conspires to bring them together. The same thing happened with Karan and Romi as they crossed paths unexpectedly in Kargil, of all places. The scene where they saw each other amidst a convoy of army vehicles is absolute poetry. Kudos to Preity for being so natural with her expressions always; she was brilliant in every scene, and especially here as Romi’s eyes changed from pure surprise on finding Karan there to a subtle melancholy and probably hope ( ?) at the thought of their future interactions. Hrithik, as usual, was spot-on with Karan’s ‘seeing a ghost’ expression as he moved past her, without getting an opportunity to satisfy his curiosity regarding her presence there.

Their next exchanges were laced with intense angst, but not of the typical Bollywood kind, rather much more controlled and nuanced. The part where Karan, after knowing about the demise of his good friend Abir (from the IMA) found his other pal Saket (Abir’s closest friend) venting out at Romi requires special mention because of the seamless manner in which it shifted from a discourse on the necessity and morality of war to a fantastic interaction between the lead couple, their first face-to-face conversation since the break up. It was formal, yet intimate; mundane, yet special; filled with hope for more on Romi’s part, and discomfort as well as suppressed anger on Karan’s. This scene was followed by his a little mean ‘pata nahin’ when Romi asked him if he had decided whether they should meet or not, and his angsty ‘congratulations’ for her engagement. Of course, the poor guy had no idea that she had broken it off after finding out that her fiance who was apparently a highly motivated successful individual was also a narrow-minded chauvinist. The irony of life! Once again, kudos to the genius of Farhan Akhtar. Without even mentioning it, he managed to point out the difference between Karan and Rajeev, and it was clearer than ever why Romi loved Karan. Remember ‘Maine aj tak tum mein koi choti baat nahin dekhi’ ? However, Romi obviously did not explain the truth to Karan. It was truly frustrating at times to see these two souls so much in love with each other, and yet unable to let go of their stubornness. Nonetheless, the frustration could be borne because of the brilliant intensity of their scenes and the wonderful chemistry these two shared. Truly, we do not talk enough about Hrithik and Preity’s amazing on screen bonding. We really should!

Karan eventually found out about Romi’s broken engagement from a letter his best friemd Ashu had sent him a while back. Hrithik’s expression of shock portrayed the extent to which the news had unsettled Karan. Incidentally, just when love had given him a second chance, Karan encountered death more closely than ever. After an initial victory during the first battle (the one in which he had saved the life of a senior officer, and killed opponents for the first time; also possibly the one where he began to realize that serving his country had started becoming his passion), Karan and his battalion were massively defeated in the second and several lives were lost, including his close colleague, Captain Akbar’s. The scene where Akbar succumbed to his injuries in front of his best friend, Dr. Sudhir (played by the late Abir Goswami, may he rest in peace too) who tried desperately to resuscitate him while motivating the gasping man with remarks such as ‘aam khane jana hai na’ can make people cry anytime without manipulating their emotions or forcefully tugging at their heartstrings. In fact, this was true for every battle sequence in Lakshya, which made it one of the best war movies Bollywood had ever made. Notably, the script treated every character with sufficient respect including even the ones who had screen times of just a few minutes. Everyone had a well-crafted story arc, however small it might be but integral to the movie. Most importantly, not for one second did we feel that Karan had taken up the screen space of others.

The best example for this was provided by the great late Om Puri ji, who played the role of Subedar Pritam Singh. Of course, if you have the privilege of casting an actor of his calibre, your can rest assured of the outcome. Acting is at its best when it does not feel like enactment, and not many actors are more natural than Om Puri ji! Appearing on screen for not more than four to five scenes, he delivered some of the most profound dialogues in the film. He explained to Karan how a soldier knew better than anyone about the destructiveness of war; yet he had no other option but to be a part of it. When Karan asked why wars took place, he pointed out that human greed had drawn boundaries upon the earth’s surface and if it were in their hands, men would partition the moon too. How true it rings, especially now. People are actually talking about ‘making life interplanetary’. If it ever happens, countries are going to fight about demarcating territories there.

Moving on! Excuse the length of this blog please! A film like Lakshya has so many subtle intricacies that it becomes impossible to leave out scenes. But don’t be impatient please. We have almost reached the end of our ‘Lakshya’. A few sequences still deserve mention. First, the iconic ‘Tum kehti thi na Romi meri zindagi mein koi lakshya nahin hai?’ The defeat accompanied by the loss of close friends and colleagues had augmented Karan’s determination to win but our hero had also finally discovered his passion, his true calling. In moments when such epiphanies occur, is there anything else left to do other than crying? Probably not. That was exactly what Karan did. As usual, Hrithik’s performance elevated the quality of this scene, like so many others. The part where Karan pledged to Colonel Damle that either he would execute the mission successfully, or he would not come back alive was again equally impactful because of both Hrithik and Mr. Bachchan. The way Colonel Damle looked at his officer after this momentous declaration conveyed the immense pride, gratitude and grief he felt at that moment. Truly, Mr. Bachchan needs no dialogues to express emotions. His eyes do it all. And the same is true for Hrithik too.

Now, its time for our favourite scene in the movie. You guys must be thinking that we agree on everything. Well, we do agree a lot, but disagreements occur too. However, there was no disagreement on this one. We think its a lot of other people’s favourite too. You are right! We are talking about the scene in which Karan called his dad. This was on the night before the final mission- a mission that was near suicidal. Upon seeing his colleague Vishal take off his engagement ring and put it in an envelope, Karan finally acknowledged what he was running away from; something that he had buried deep down in his sub-conscious- his conflicted emotions towards his father. The knowledge that he might no longer be alive for a resolution made Karan pick up the phone and dial his number. Here is an anecdote in this context. When Boman Irani started shooting for his part in this sequence, Hrithik’s lines were being read by an AD, and Mr. Irani could not get his shot right because he was not able to get the proper feel. Acting is a lot about reacting, and the non-impactful delivery by the AD hampered Mr. Irani’s shot. Finally, the person in charge of the sound came to his rescue and Hrithik’s dialogues were played in audio (Hrithik’s part had already been shot by then) to which Boman Irani reacted. And what an outcome. This is the true mark of a great actor; he not only excels himself but helps others soar too. And what an honour to have helped an ace actor like Boman Irani! The performances by both in this scene were superlative and manage to leave us with lumps in our throats even today.

In his first ever heart-to-heart with his dad, Karan confessed that he had always disappointed his father and told him that he was aware of it. In return, his dad who initially had thought Karan had called his mom, finally told him how proud he was of him. A salute and heartfelt gratitude to all the parents out there who send their children to serve in the security forces so that civilians can live in peace. The smile on his son’s face was proof that he could die happy. The tears in both their eyes expressed the craving they had towards each other; the dejection that Karan had always felt upon being ‘ignored’ by his father was replaced by the understanding that his father had always loved him; the pain on Mr. Shergill’s face portrayed his disappointment for waiting so long to convey his love to Karan- so long that there was a chance he might never see him again.

Having poured his heart out to his dad, Karan finally set out to achieve his Lakshya of recapturing Point 5179 and hoisting the Indian flag on it, but not before a much needed conversation with Romi. What an amazing bond these two shared. Karan did not need to tell her explicitly that he knew about her broken engagement; she did not have to tell him that she still loved him. They just knew. Her ‘to phir main zindagi bhar intezaar karungi’ was far more intense than a conventional ‘I love you’. The beauty of this scene lay in the complete lack of melodrama which one usually associates with Bollywood scenes of this kind. No over the top background score, no hysterics, not even a hug! And the fact that they wanted to hug, but could not (because Karan’s seniors were waiting) made this moment even more poignant. Hrithik and Preity were the epitomes of subtlety here. The frustration of not even being able to touch each other before Karan left for a life threatening assignment was so tangible that even the audience imbibed it. Seriously, why did not Hrithik and Preity work more? They were so attuned to even each other’s silences!

The final mission proved the truth of Romi’s words. ‘Jis din usne decide kar liya ki use kya karna hai, aap dekhna wo kahan se kahan pohochta hai’. Indeed, Karan reached the peak of success, literally and metaphorically. The mountain-climbing scene deserves a special mention here. It was so perfectly done that the only comparison that comes to mind is the famous rock-climbing sequence in ‘The Guns of Navarone’ by the iconic Gregory Peck. And in all fairness, Captain Mallory only climbed a cliff; Captain Shergill had to climb a peak of the Trans Himalayas! Jokes aside, both scenes shall forever remain goosebump- inducing. Karan, obviously hoisted the Indian flag, and just in time. Boy, did he make Colonel Damle proud or what?!

Thanks to our friend Mita for this wonderful VM .

There is a saying that everything works out in the end, and if it does not, it is not the end. It indeed did happen that way for Karan. He found his goal, and achieved it too. As he walked out of that elevator, and hugged his dad finally, we surely did feel contented. And who said Mr. Shergill did not know his son? Well, he might have taken time, but now he understood him better than most. When Karan’s mother asked if they could go home, he objected. Go home? What NO! Karan had to go and fulfill his other 'Lakhshya’, right?

How wonderfully thoughtful of Romi to stand at a distance from Karan’s parents, wanting to give them the private space that they needed! Actually, kudos to the director for his sensitivity; such subtlety is not something that we frequently see in Bollywood. So thank God for ‘Lakshya’. Just like Karan’s story ended on a positive note as the camera focussed on him and Romi, holding hands, finally embracing each other, ready to step in to a new chapter of their lives, we also end this blog with a bit of optimism.. Let us all hope and pray that ‘Hum Jeetenge Ye Baazi’ (modifying Javed Akhtar’s line a bit) on behalf of every Indian, and every person in the world dealing with this pandemic.

P.S. This blog is dedicated to all the front-line workers (doctors, nurses, other medical personnel, medical suppliers, delivery executives, grocery storekeepers, and all other emergency personnel) who put their lives in danger everyday so that we may survive. Please know that you are always in our prayers. Also, let us all hope that no one remains shy of masks and vaccines anymore. Those are the most effective ways of countering this virus. Stay safe everyone!

[pinetreeanarchism]

When George Orwell returned to Barcelona for the third time, on June 20th, 1937, he discovered that the Spanish secret police were after him. He had been forced to return to the front in order to have his discharge papers countersigned and, in his absence, the Communists had initiated a purge of their perceived enemies. Orwell was on the list. As he arrived in the lobby of the Hotel Continental, Eileen approached him calmly, placed her arm around his neck, and smiled for the benefit of anyone watching. Once they were close enough she hissed in his ear:

“Get out!”

“What?”

“Get out at once.”

“What?”

“Don’t keep standing here! You must get outside quickly!”

Eileen guided a bewildered Orwell toward the hotel exit. Marceau Pivert, a French friend of Orwell’s who was just entering the lobby, seemed distressed to see him and told him he needed to hide before the hotel called the police. A sympathetic member of the staff joined in, urging Orwell to leave in his broken English. Eileen managed to get him to a café on a discreet side street, where she explained the seriousness of the situation.

*

David Crook, a young Englishman working for the Independent Labour Party’s (ILP) Barcelona office, had become friends with both Orwell and his wife over the last few months. He was not what he seemed. He had arrived in Spain in January 1937, the month after Orwell, eager to join up with the International Brigades and fight the Fascists. He was descended from Russian-Jewish immigrants and grew up in Hampstead, attending the prestigious Cheltenham College.

Like many young men who grew up after the First World War, he was attracted to left-wing causes. He moved to New York City, where he attended Columbia University and embraced radical politics, joining the Young Communist League. As a student delegate he traveled down to Kentucky to support the famous miners’ strike in Harlan County, witnessing its brutal suppression by the National Guard. On his return to London he became a member of the British Communist Party. At one meeting, the doomed poet John Cornford spoke about the Republican cause in Spain, and Crook was inspired to enlist.

Like Hyndman, Crook was thrust straight into the action at the Battle of Jarama, taking three bullets to the leg. Recovering in Madrid, he socialized with the literary set, including the brilliant war correspondent Martha Gellhorn, her lover Ernest Hemingway, Mulk Raj Anand, and Spender. At this point he came to the attention of Soviet intelligence agents. After recruiting him, the NKVD sent him to a training camp in Albacete, where he was given a crash course in sabotage and surveillance techniques.

There he became a Communist spy. Crook’s mission was to infiltrate the ILP and report on all their activities. The Soviets already had one agent in place, David Wickes, who volunteered as an interpreter with the ILP and passed what information he found on to his handlers. Now Crook was to infiltrate deeper and get hold of documents. Orwell was his most prestigious target.

Orwell knew it was pointless to remain in Spain; he could no longer serve the cause to which he had committed himself.

As cover Crook pretended to be a stringer for a British newspaper, with credentials on headed paper secured from “a comrade in London.” The NKVD arranged for him to be discharged from the International Brigade with “lung trouble.” The day after Orwell returned from the front for the first time, before the outbreak of the May fighting, Crook installed himself at the Continental, befriended Eileen, and insinuated his way into the ILP office.

During the long Spanish lunch breaks, when the office was deserted, he took documents to a safe house on Calle Muntaner and photographed them. He compiled reports on the Orwells, Kopp, and McNair and, at meetings in a local café, delivered them folded up in a newspaper to his handler, Hugh O’Donnell (code name “Sean O’Brien”). Sometimes he secreted the reports in the hotel bathroom if more discretion was needed. Crook reported that Kopp and Eileen were having an affair, the kind of information the NKVD valued for blackmail purposes.

Kopp professed to be in love with Eileen, and while Orwell recuperated from his wound, their “association” developed “in little leaps” (these are her words; Orwell and Eileen had an unconventional relationship, and she was clear with Kopp that he could never replace his friend and rival). Also among the documents Crook apparently lifted was a report from Orwell’s doctor about his neck wound, which ended up in Orwell’s KGB file in Moscow. He was compiling evidence that could be used as justification for the coming purge.

Nobody suspected Crook, but there were plenty of other reasons to be fearful. Orwell knew it was pointless to remain in Spain; he could no longer serve the cause to which he had committed himself. Any foreign fighters seeking to leave the country were considered deserters, so it was important that Orwell got his discharge papers in order. For that, he needed to return to the front one last time. It took him five days. Time was running out.

*

The raid on Eileen’s room came early in the hours of June 16th, the same day that the Communist-controlled Republican government declared the POUM [the Worker’s Party of Marxist Unification] an illegal organization. The NKVD and the Spanish secret police (the SIM) moved swiftly on their targets. The NKVD assassin Iosif Grigulevich led the hit squad. Nin, POUM’s leader, had previously served as Trotsky’s private secretary in Moscow and, even though the two had split over political differences, argued that Catalonia should have given Trotsky asylum.

Those associations proved fatal. He was “arrested, brutally tortured, then flayed alive when he refused to confess to imaginary crimes.” Irwin Wolf, another of Trotsky’s former secretaries, was kidnapped and executed. Kurt Landau, a prominent Austrian Trotskyist, went into hiding, but thanks to information gathered by Crook, the death squad kidnapped and murdered him, too. Landau’s wife spent five months in prison, all the while vainly trying to discover what had happened to her husband.

Kopp was arrested at the Continental and thrown in prison. Crook, in order to maintain the integrity of his cover and to continue his spying, was “arrested” by two plainclothes policemen and thrown into the same jail as Kopp.

In the raid on Eileen’s room agents of the SIM confiscated every piece of paper they could find, including Orwell’s diaries, papers, and photographs. They also seized Orwell’s books, including his French edition of Hitler’s Mein Kampf and, ironically, Stalin’s Ways of Liquidating Trotskyists and Other Double Dealers. For two hours the policemen sounded the walls, checked behind the radiators, sifted through the trash, and held every item of clothing up to the light, searching for hidden letters or pamphlets.

They went through every single one of Orwell’s cigarette papers looking for hidden messages, yet for some reason, perhaps a perverse sense of decency, they failed to search the bed in which Eileen had concealed their passports and checkbooks. “The Spanish secret police had some of the spirit of the Gestapo, but not much of its competence,” he wrote.

Orwell arrived back in Barcelona on June 20th, having secured his discharge papers. It became clear he needed to get out quickly if he were to avoid the same fate as others associated with the POUM. Eileen told him McNair and an 18-year-old ILP volunteer, Stafford Cottman, were already in hiding. Eileen feared the only reason she remained free was as bait for her husband. She told him to destroy his militia card and incriminating photographs.

On no account could he return to the hotel. He would have to go into hiding, as there was almost certainly a warrant out for his arrest. Orwell suddenly felt like “a hunted fugitive.” The Orwells now had to find a way to get out of Barcelona and across the French border undetected. This was easier said than done. Suspicious as Orwell was, he had no idea just how closely the Communists were having him watched.

Eileen arranged for them all to meet the following morning at the British Consulate. Orwell spent the night in the ruins of an old church. After learning that it would take the consulate three days to get their passports ready, he and his friends did their best to remain inconspicuous. That night, in the bitter cold, Orwell, McNair, and Cottman slept, or at least tried to, “in some long grass at the edge of a derelict building lot.”

They spent the following morning restless for the cafés to open so that they could revive themselves with a coffee. After that Orwell went to the barber for a shave and then for a shoeshine. He took care to avoid any of the hotels or cafés associated with the POUM. Instead he began frequenting the city’s most exclusive restaurants, where no one knew him. Orwell took care not to be stopped as the streets “were thronged by local and Valencia assault guards, Carabineros and ordinary police, besides God knows how many spies in plain clothes.”

The morning after going into hiding, Orwell learned that Smillie, the young journalist alongside whom he had fought on the front, had died in a Valencia prison. The official verdict was appendicitis, but Smillie was only 22, and Orwell had seen just how tough he was. At best, Orwell thought, Smillie had been allowed to die “like a neglected animal.” Kopp later claimed he saw a police file that said Smillie had died from heavy kicks to the stomach. Orwell never forgave Smillie’s death.

By day the Englishmen pretended to be in the city on business, by night they slept rough. To get some respite, Orwell spent one day at the public baths. “It was an extraordinary, insane existence we were leading,” he wrote. “By night we were criminals, but by day we were prosperous English visitors—that was our pose, anyway.”

Needing an outlet, Orwell took the opportunity of an unobserved moment to scrawl political slogans on the walls. While on the run, Orwell persisted in the “ineradicable English belief that ‘they’ cannot arrest you unless you have broken the law,” even though “practically everyone we knew was in jail by this time.” He tried to do something for his friend Kopp, taking a great risk of his own arrest in twice visiting him in the filthy, overcrowded prison. Eileen offered to help Crook by smuggling letters out. But in the end there was nothing they could do for Kopp, and he spent the next year and a half being shuttled from prison to prison, from interrogation to interrogation, from prison ship to labor camp.

Even years later, Orwell kept among his papers a report detailing how when Kopp refused to sign a confession he was “put in a coal bin without light, air, or food where enormous rats ran in and out of his legs.” The use of rats in torture stuck with Orwell and became the subject of an iconic scene in Nineteen Eighty-Four. When Kopp was finally released 18 months later, he had lost 98 pounds in weight, and was suffering from scurvy and blood poisoning.

In the prison, Orwell had also seen Milton, who had tried to leave the country only to be arrested at the frontier despite having all his papers in order. The American had helped carry Orwell to the ambulance when he was wounded, and they had served together for months on the front line. But fearful of discovery, they “walked past each other as though [they] had been total strangers.” Milton’s failure to get out was a warning to Orwell and his friends: even jumping through the right hoops was no guarantee of a successful escape.

Orwell needed to tell the world, and most importantly his fellow left-wingers, the truth about what was going on in Spain.

Finally Orwell discovered his papers were ready. The group hatched an escape plan. A train was leaving for Port Bou, on the French border, at half past eight in the evening. It was important the secret police did not get wind of their planned escape. Eileen was to give no indication that she was leaving or they would pounce. They would order a taxi ahead of time but Eileen should pack her bags and pay the bill only at the last possible moment. To his horror, when Orwell arrived at the station he discovered that the train had left early. Fortunately, it had done so in time for him to warn his wife. It was a close call.

Orwell managed to ascertain that the manager of a local restaurant was an Anarchist and therefore sympathetic to their cause. He put Orwell and his two friends up in a spare room, a great relief after sleeping rough. A train left early the next morning, June 23rd, and, joined by Eileen, the group took seats in the dining car. “Two detectives came round the train taking the names of foreigners,” he wrote, “but when they saw us in the dining-car they seemed satisfied that we were respectable.”

At the border crossing the guards looked up their names in a card index of suspects. It was a tense moment, but for some reason their names were not listed. (Orwell suspected police inefficiency.) Everyone was searched thoroughly, but nothing incriminating was found. The guards pored over Orwell’s discharge papers and, in another stroke of luck, failed to make the connection that the Twenty-Ninth Division was in fact the POUM.

The Orwells and their friends made it to France and safety (the first newspaper they read contained a premature report announcing McNair’s arrest for espionage). A secret police file, dated July 13th and prepared for the Tribunal for Espionage and High Treason in Valencia, denounced Orwell and Eileen as “confirmed Trotskyists.” The report was compiled with information from Wickes (and almost certainly Crook). Orwell had fled just in time.

Orwell’s tenure in Spain, he later wrote, “was a queer business. We started off by being heroic defenders of democracy and ended by slipping over the border with the police panting on our heels.” His wounds hurt and his health, as always, was poor. He needed time to recover. But when his strength returned he knew what he needed to do: he needed to tell the world, and most importantly his fellow left-wingers, the truth about what was going on in Spain.

The Communists had perhaps mistaken Orwell for another naive volunteer, there to be pushed around, but they had in fact made a powerful enemy, an enemy who now prepared to fight back with his trusted weapons, the typewriter and the pen.

[tellywoodtrash]

ishqbaaz 25.08.17 lb

plain text version here.

whooooo boy, i’ve been waiting for today for over a fucking month now! 

(i fucking love this song. what a banger. #keshaStan4ever) 

LET’S DO THIS!

ugh ok fwding first 2 min of repeated footage. ouff. 🙄🙄🙄

LMAO ANIKAAA “CHOD MEREKO CHICHORE, WARNA TERI AISI BAND BAJAONGI....” 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

vikram is a desi aunty in the body of 30 something fuckboy, concerned about anika’s prospects on the marriage market now that she’s a divorcee... 😐😐😐

waise i gotta say that vikram and ragini are really considerate evil people. like, they actually set up a gorgeous mandap, and got a real pandit and everything for anika. like arnav and shivaay and omkara and all never really bothered with all that shit. 😒😒😒

LMAO VIKRAM’S ABOUT TO GET ACQUAINTED WITH CHANDNI!!!! HE’S GONNA WISH HE DIDN’T ASK! 😂😂😂

haha, i love how ragini is so matter of fact and no nonsense, even in her kaale kartootein. 

lo aa gayi band aka humari paltan, to fuck. vikram. up. 😬😬😬

“some music would be nice!”

lmao vikram is pakka desi - muft mein jo bhi milega, we’re up for it. 😆😆😆

LMAOOOOOOOOOO I CAN’T STOP LAUGHINGG, BOTH AT THESE FUCKING IDIOTS ANDDDDD THE MUSICCCCC SO MUCH MICHMICHI BUT OH GOD I AM ALSO LAUGHING AND MY GOD EVERYTHING HURTS FROM THE SECOND HAND EMBARRASSMENT 😪😪😪😪

SOMEONE TELL ME HOW THE FUCKKKKKKKK RUDRA AND BHAVYA ARE HERE WHEN THEY WERE IN SOME PODUNK VILLAGE IN GUJARAT 5 MINUTES AGO 😯😯😯😯

like, the boys haven’t bothered disguising their faces AT ALL. why are #vikIni and anika not recognizing them?? 😦😦😦

UM WHAT THE FUCK, RUDRA, YOU CAN SEE HER BEING MANHANDLED. GIVE ME ONE GOOD REASON AS TO WHY SHIVAAY SHOULDN’T BE REARRANGING VIKRAM’S FACE RIGHT THIS SECOND??????????? 😑😑😑

oh my god, i can’t even... 😯😯😯

like, i realllllllly don’t getttt how they’re not being recognized. THE OBROS’ FACES ARE OUT THERE PLAIN AS DAY. ARE VIKRAM AND RAGINI AND ANIKA BLIND OR... 😣😣😣

THERE’S ACTUALLY A NAACH GAANA SEQUENCE. JFC OBEROIS, DON’T MAKE ME COME IN THERE AND BEAT ALL *YOUR* ASSES AND JUST RESCUE ANIKA MYSELF. 😑😑😑

OH GOD I AM ACTUALLY DYING AT THIS SONG. 😳😳😳

btw, fun fact: the movie that this song is from was the bollywood debut of our favt tellywood dad, ronit roy! and yes, this song is just as ridiculous in the movie as it is here. 😶😶😶

my favt. bit: omRu harassing vikram to within an inch of his life. 🤣🤣🤣🤣

... did she not recognize it was him TILL he showed her his kanji aankhein? lordddddd. 🙄🙄🙄

ok fwding. can’t handle any more of this michmichi. 

the sunglasses are off, and that means BUSINESSSSSS. 😈😈😈

aaaaaand yehhhhh padaaaaa!!!!!!!!! 😁😁😁

HELLZ YEAH THAT’S MY MAN. AND MY BROTHERS. AND MY GIRLS. MY WHOLE DAMN FAM IS HERE TO FUCKKKK YOU UP, SON!!! 😇😇😇

... surely it would have just been faster for bhavya to send in her police team and just... break this up. 😐😐😐

but then we wouldn’t get this much amazing drama, so imma stfu. 🤐🤐🤐

lmao, shivaay taking a break from beating vikram to SCOLD ragini. 🤣🤣🤣

OMFG OM’S WINK. HAAAAAAAYE. I AM IN LOVEEEEEE. 😍😍😍😍

LMAOOOOOOOOO HEIGHT DIFFERENCE, THERE’S A LEGIT FOOT BETWEEN THEM 😂😂😂

ragini’s got girl scouts training in knots. such speed and expertise! 😗😗😗

LMAO “TERI TOH WAAAATTTTT HAI!” 

my girl’s been itching to beat ragini’s ass for a few days now. 😂😂😂

been sooooo damn long since i’ve seen om fighting. you know i love to see my boy use those fists of his to dispense justice. so hot. 😏😏😏

lmao bhavya and gauri bitch slapping a man into submission. amazing. 😂😂😂

oh boy, vikram just landed one on shivaay. 😬😬😬

OMFG GAURI ENJOYING THE FUCK OUTTA HERSELF WHILE BEATING UP SOME MAN. GIRL I LOVE YOU THE MOST!!!!!!!😇😇😇😇😇

aaaaaaand shivaay is enraged. most probably that vikram fucked his hair up. he’s gone into hulk mode. 😐😐😐

OMFG GAURIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII AND BHAVYA YOU TWO ADORABLE IDIOTS WHAT EVEN 🤣🤣🤣🤣

shivaay, waise bhi she’s tied up rn, now would be a good opportunity to kiss her. just saying. 😚😚😚

aaaaaaaand he’s leaving her in the middle of untying to go fuck up vikram for breaking her phone and infringing upon HIS rights. 😐😐😐

of course these two are bickering right now. 🙄🙄🙄

lol awwww, he’s wrapping the dupatta around his hand tighter to prevent her from leaving. 😊😊😊

“heels pehene ka naya shauk jo chadh gaya hai.” hahahahaha 😂😂😂

ouffffffff you two idiots. 😣😣😣

LMAO BHAVYA’S LANGUAGE PUZZLES EVEN ANIKA. 😆😆😆

“he’s TOUCHED it!!!!!! main humare liye nayi rings banwaa loonga.” 

abbe touch toh usne anika ko bhi kiya tha, toh tu usse bhi phenk dega, kya? ���🤔🤔

lmaooooo poor bhavyaaaa just got SHOVED away by anika and she just faded away into the bg saying “theek hai, aap jhagda continue kijiye!” 🤣🤣🤣

“kisne kaha aapse ke main aapse dobara sagai karungi??”

ASK HIM GIRL. DOBARA AISI GALTI KAUN KAREGA? 😐😐😐

ok. he’s using puppy eyes. fuck. 😣😣😣

and now he’s being an alpha male caveman. this man and his moodswings. 🙄🙄🙄

ok fine, can’t deny. kuch kuch ho raha hai. after ages. fuck me. 😔😔😔

OH MY HEART GAURI’S SHIPPING. I CAN’T EVEN. WHY IS SHE SO GODDAMN CUTE???????????? 😘😘😘😘

ok these flashbacks got me feeling some kinda way. *siiiiiiiiiiigh*

and this fucker is looking very handsome. fuck. i thought i was free of this godforsaken ship. but no. 😣😣😣

i’m sorry, i just can’t stop staring at gauri in the bg and her 100000 watt smile. 😊😊😊

GHAR KI LADKIYAAAAN?!?! EXCUSE ME, EVERYTHING THAT IS WRONG IS WITH YOU OBROS. 😒😒😒

oh god i don’t even wanna think about pinky’s reaction at when he comes back with anika again. 😬😬😬

“shivaay ego bhandaar” snort. 😆😆😆

ugh these two cutes. *pushes their faces together to make them kiss* 

lol kahaani bataane ki zaroorat nahi. om’s face is telling pinky everything she needs to know. 😝😝😝

om roasting pinky like it’s his goddamn jobbbbb. 😯😯😯

rudra and gauriiii providing ampleeeeeeee support. 😌😌😌

shivaay, can you first take that goddamn ridiculoussssss fucking bandwaala suit off? how is a girl to have a serious conversation with you looking like that? 😣😣😣

she used “mere liye.” will it be enough to convince him? 😕😕😕

OH HOLY SHIT. HE AGREED. CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. FUCKING FINALLLLLYYYYYY. *falls down weeping* 😭😭😭

ohhhhhhhhhh boy. he’s gonna get it outta omRu??? 😟😟😟

ouffffffff oh pinkyyyyyyyy. 😤😤😤

OH BOY. OH FUCKING HELLLLLLLLLLL. 😧😧😧

damn pinky, you gooooood. 😐😐😐

“is there a problem, anika?” 

yeah. it’s your goddamn mother. 😒😒😒

lmao why’s she LEAVING THE HOUSE to get changed???? 🤔🤔🤔

this boy isn’t gonna fucking let this goooooo. why can’t he just enjoy three minutes of mental peace without fucking his life up? 😣😣😣

khanna! wazzaaaa my man! nice new haircut! 😏😏😏

oh boy, khanna’s ringtone is gonna jog’s shivaay’s memory. 😬😬😬

why did you blank out? coz you added like a quarter kilo of weed into that aloo ki sabji. 😒😒😒

who’s he going to fucking drug this time to get to the truth?? 😗😗😗

please let it be rudra, coz my boy omki really shouldn’t be drugged any more than he has in this last year. please. my man has a drug problem! stop slipping him shit you assholes!!!!!!!!!! 😫😫😫

OK TEJ GET YOUR GRUBBY PAWS OFF MY WIFE OR IMMA COME IN THERE AND CUT YOUR JUNK OFF, BITCH. 😡😡😡

yaaaaaaaaaaaaas my queeeeen. fuckkkk him uppppp. 😈😈😈

god i’m not a fan of jhanvi anymore. she annoys me with her OTT-ness these days. 😒😒😒

lol vikram is mad about his... kinda bruised eye? instead of all the other crap that went down? what a narcissist. 🙄🙄🙄

whyyyy are these two stilllllll freeee AND NOT ARRESTED?? 🤔🤔🤔

LMAOOOOO RAGINI HAS ONE MORE PLAN. 🤣🤣🤣

ok vikram, you’re fucking asking to be punched in the fucking face again. just do it ragini. just do it. 😑😑😑

damn i really love ragini’s outfit. 😊😊😊

WHAT THE FUCK? TWO DAYS HAVE PASSED?????? 😯😯😯

how convenient that this random fucking stranger has seen tej and remembers alllllll the details. 🙄🙄🙄

aaaaaaaaand jhanvi’s managed to teleport to this dhaaba. 😶😶😶

... um. 

so, not just two two shivaays, two two tejs too? 😐😐😐

is ragini breaking shit in vikram’s house? 😗😗😗

OH SHIT. RAGINI NOOOOOOOOOOOO. 😩😩😩

VIKRAM WHAT THE FUCK KICK THE DAMN DOOR IN 😫😫😫

THANKKKKKKKKKK GODDDDDD 😖😖😖

and if vikram is so sane and mentally balanced, why was he coercing anika into marrying him? awaiii, for kicks? 🤔🤔🤔

RAGINI JUST MARRY THIS DUDE. LOOK AT HIM. HE’S TALL. HE’S HOT. HE’S RICHHHHHHHHHH. 😣😣😣

oh god, whyyyyyyyyy is this plotttt still going on?? 😫😫😫

lmaooooo “susegaaaad types” 😆😆😆

WHAT THE FUCK IS A SOUTH INDIAN “DHAABA”??? THAT TOO IN NORTH INDIA? WHO THE FUCK WOULD EVEN GO TO SUCH A PLACE? 😒😒😒

my face at this plot. 😐😐😐

OMG IS THAT... SUNDARI BUA???????????? 😱😱😱

JESUS FUCKING CHRISTTTTTTTTTT HOW THE FUCK DID VIKINI EVEN FIND HERRRRRRRRR 😧😧😧😧

ugh yaaaar, as much as i love ragini, i thought this was the end of this plot, what is this new nonsense nowwww 😫😫😫 

IS THAT SVETLANA AS KAVERI DARLING???????? PLEASE TELL ME IT IS. 😯😯😯

why is a goan suddenly lapsing into ‘muslim butcher from old delhi/lucknow’ accent with the “boti kabab” thing? 🤔🤔🤔

OMFGGGGGGGGGGGG HOLY SHIT I THOUGHT I WAS IN LOVE WITH REYHNA BEFORE THIS?????? THAT WAS NOTHING COMPARED TO WHAT I FEEL SEEING HER AS A SOUTH INDIAN. 😍😍😍😍😍😍

ok she looks hot but i am so not here for this BS stereotypical portrayal of south indians. till today, in the 20 something years of my godforsaken life, i have not met ONE woman from ANY of the south indian states who calls her husband SWAMI. for fuck’s sake. I HATE THIS FUCKERY. FUCK. 😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡

oh shit. he remembers. oh shit oh shit oh shitttttttt. 😬😬😬😬

[lolcat76]

Folie a Deux, pt 6

thanks as always to @okaynextcrisis for the prompt and @cassiopeiasara and @wearecylons for the input.

Two weeks and several panicked late-night calls to Bill later, she was finally feeling something that resembled comfortable in her new job. She’d called him after she finished the first rehearsal for Spanish, terrified that she wasn’t up to the job.

“Did they quit?” he asked.

No, but she almost did, halfway through the rehearsal when the word for penche completely escaped her brain. She couldn’t remember the French terminology that had been drilled into her head since she was five years old; how could she expect to lead a rehearsal?

He reassured her that she was doing fine, that if there were a problem, Jack would definitely toss her out on her ass the next day. It shouldn’t have been comforting, the promise that she could be fired in an instant, but it was.

She made it through the second Spanish rehearsal without incident and called him to thank him for being the voice of reason. Imagine that, Bill Adama being the voice of reason, after all these years.

“It’s like riding a bike,” he’d said. “Some things you don’t forget.”

She was pretty sure that if she got on a bike right now, she’d fall flat on her ass, but she didn’t argue the point. She was just happy to talk to him, to share every minute detail of her rehearsal, to ask his advice and let him praise her in return. Some things you don’t forget.

She wished she’d forgotten how good he was at making her feel better. She wished she’d forgotten how the sound of his voice at the end of a long day made her sigh with relief.

Years ago, she’d been afraid to lean on him, to ask him for advice, because she was afraid he’d think her weak. Now, he was the person she wanted to tell her that she was doing the right thing. She hated giving up that much control to him, but she had to admit...she trusted him to tell her if she was screwing it up completely. Bill had never let her down easy, as much as she’d wanted him to 11 years ago. If she was making a mess out of the show, he’d tell her, in no uncertain terms.

He talked her through the doubts that she was capable of handling a strict rehearsal schedule. He made detailed notes on the variations she was teaching, and he told her to suck it up and act like an adult when she threatened to quit because it was just so hard to be back in the studio.

It was hard, but it was also the easiest thing she’d ever done. She felt like a fraud teaching yoga, but cleaning up a variation for the Nutcracker...it was what she was born to do. The choreography lived in her body, as much as she tried to push it away, and her complaints about it being hard rang hollow in her ears during those late night phone calls..

“Suck it up and be an adult,” he said. 35 years old, and she was still struggling to be an adult. Still trying to find her place in the world, while calling her ex at midnight and begging him to make her feel better. Jesus, she was pathetic.

Be an adult. It seemed like rational advice when she was tucked in her bed and threatening to stay there until January, but less so when she was knee-deep in kids, trying to wrangle a bunch of hyperactive 8-year-olds into hitting their marks for the godforsaken Mother Ginger variation she swore she wouldn't rehearse.

“Don’t let them see you sweat,” he’d said. She wasn’t so much sweating as she was on the verge of killing someone. Preferably Bill Adama, but Jack Cottle would do just as well, and a couple of these kids were also looking like damn fine candidates for her wrath.

She hated everything about this piece - the music, the kitsch, the costumes, the choreography. Mostly, she hated that she’d always been forced to play one of the boys because she was one of the few children in her classes who wouldn’t complain about the role she was given.

Bill gave her a wave as he snuck out of the studio, and she fought to keep from cursing him under her breath. She’d agreed to it, because 20-plus years later, she was still taking her assignments without complaining.

Well, without complaining much. She’d dug in her heels over this stupid rehearsal, right until Bill told her that he needed someone to cover it because he had to be home to meet his ex-wife when she dropped off his boys for the weekend.

She could suck it up for two hours, if it meant Bill got to spend that time with his children. He had Jack covering his rehearsals for the weekend, and even Karl had stepped up to take over the party rehearsal on Sunday morning.

Say what she would about Bill, and she had plenty to say about him over the last two weeks, but there was no denying that he inspired a certain unwavering loyalty among the company.

She was surrounded by the evidence of that in the form of sixteen children who had absolutely no interest in letting her herd them through the variation. She’d watched him leading rehearsal on Wednesday night to make sure she was up to speed, and she was more than a little charmed by how good he was with the kids. As brusque and rude as he could be with Jack and the company dancers (and with her), he was endlessly patient with the kids.

Watching him kneel on the studio floor to reason with a temperamental grade-schooler made her want to see him with his own kids. Lee and Zak were still young - did they still look at their dad with hero worship? Did they look like him, or talk like him? Did they fight with each other, the way she had with her sisters? Did they miss their dad?

“You must miss them,” she said, after she begrudgingly agreed to take on the damn Mother Ginger rehearsal.

“Every day.”

“And do you miss…” She stopped herself. It wasn’t her place to ask, and she didn’t want to know the answer.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to finish the sentence.

“Do you miss New York?”

Bill was many things, but stupid never one one of them. He knew damn well what she wanted to ask. Did he miss his wife? Did he miss his life?

“New York is great, but I don’t miss it.” He shrugged. “Home isn’t always a place, you know?”

Home was the house where she was raised, where she was raising Grace. Home was Philadelphia. Home was the scuffs on the kitchen table and the marks in the doorway where her father measured his girls at the start of each school year.

She’d spent the last eight years of her life trying to build a home for Grace. What was home if it wasn’t four walls and a roof?

She took a deep breath and released it slowly, grateful for the countless hours of yoga training. She’d need all the namaste she could call up to get through this rehearsal. A few kids in this variation, she’d be more than happy to knock them into corpse pose and let them stay there until she could make her escape from the building.

As bad as teaching yoga was, it was nothing compared to this live-action Lord of the Flies. It was probably for the best that she’d never had kids of her own. She took another deep breath and recued the music.

Long days didn’t bother her. Years of ballet conditioned her to see exhaustion as a temporary issue, not a chronic problem. Tonight, though, she was bone weary.  Two hours with Mother Ginger, another two hours waiting for Grace and David to finish their rehearsal with Jack, and all the while she was counting down the minutes until she could go home, have a glass of wine and drown herself in a lavendar-scented bath. Grace was still on a rehearsal high when they finally made it into the house, and as much as she wanted to be that responsible adult and cook a balanced meal for Grace, she was also smart enough to know her limits. She ordered Chinese food, pressed a few bills into Grace’s hand for the delivery and ducked into her bathroom with a glass of wine that was dangerously close to overflowing. Chow mein and sauteed eggplant could wait.

She was halfway through a glass of a delightful Russian River Chardonnay and a 90s playlist when her phone chirped. Expecting a text from Grace about dinner, she opened one eye and held up the phone.

Bill.

Going to the Please Touch Museum tomorrow with the boys. Interested?

Something about the bath and the wine and the candles she’d lit sent her mind in a direction that was most decidedly not child-friendly. Please touch, indeed, she wanted to reply. But the wine was soothing her nerves, she did want to meet Bill’s kids, and she had a few free hours in the afternoon. Grace had always loved that museum. Why not? She took a deep swig from her glass and tapped on her phone.

Rehearsal at 10. After lunch?

The little text bubbles appeared almost immediately  Before she could take another sip from her almost-empty glass, his reply popped up on her screen.

1pm. It’s a date.

It most certainly was not a date, because they did not date. It was two old friends taking their kids to a museum. She was too tired to argue the point, so she tapped out a reply that she’d meet him there.

Bill Adama with his kids. Years ago, she’d dreamed about seeing him with his kids, her kids. Their kids. Now, she was just curious.

Curious. That’s all. Just curious. Just friends. Just curious, just friends, just friends. Just...wished she had another glass of wine.

She settled back in the tub and banished all thoughts of Bill, all thoughts of ballet, all thoughts of rehearsal. In the quiet of the bathroom, she mentally reread a book from years ago. She was halfway through imagining the plot before she remembered where she’d gotten the book in the first place.

Dammit, Bill Adama.

***

The last time Bill remembered being this nervous, he was staring down a three-day-old infant with an incredibly ripe diaper.

That baby was now refusing to hold his hand, no matter how many times he reminded Lee about the rules about being out in a big, crowded public space like this, and that baby was still looking at him like he wasn’t quite up to the job of being a father. Zak was perfectly happy to clutch his leg and watch the world go by with his big blue eyes, but Lee was getting more and more impatient by the second. There were things to be seen and touched, questions to be answered, and Lee was having a hard time understanding why they were just standing there on the stone steps of the museum.

Because I want to impress Laura. Some things shouldn’t be shared with his six-year-old son.

Lee might not understand why they were waiting, but Bill had a pretty good idea. Once the boys went back to their mother, he was going to have to have another talk with Grace about being respectful about other people’s schedules.

He was about to give up and take the boys inside when he saw them, long legs and red-gold hair running down the sidewalk. Grace, fully healed from her injury, was leading the charge down the sidewalk, but Laura was just a few steps behind.

He recognized the look on her face, irritation mixed with resignation. Grace had already gotten one lecture and would get another later, he was sure of it. Lord knows he’d heard it from Laura enough in the past to cringe a little at the firm set of her jaw.

He missed that look. That what were you thinking? look, usually accompanied by crossed arms and tapping feet. Sometimes an eyeroll, sometimes a huff, sometimes no reaction other than her stalking down the hall and shutting their bedroom door behind her.

Sometimes all of the above, but usually...usually she stared him down until he could come up with an answer that sounded at least a little reasonable, and he’d plead his case and kiss her senseless, and she’d forgive him.

Maybe he needed to give Grace some tips about throwing herself on her aunt’s mercy. It probably wouldn’t do him any favors in the long run, but at the moment, he couldn’t stop a chuckle at how clearly angry she was.

“I’m so sorry we’re late,” Laura huffed as they came skidding to a halt in front of him.

He grabbed her by the waist, intent on stopping her forward momentum before she could knock them both over. “Not a problem,” he said, giving her a light squeeze. “We’ve got all afternoon.”

She smiled and took another deep breath, but before she could say anything else, a small voice interrupted them.

“Who are you?”

Bill laughed. Lee was nothing if not blunt. “Lee, this is my friend Laura and her niece, Grace. Laura, Grace, this is Lee, and,” he paused to pull Zak from where he was hiding behind his father, “this is Zak. They’re very excited to go into the museum.”

“Well,” Laura said brightly, “we shouldn’t keep you waiting. Are you excited?”

“I was excited an hour ago,” Lee replied with a world-weary sigh. Bill fought back a laugh at his son. Where did he come from? Both Bill and Lee’s mother were passionate, argumentative and more than a little quick to fly off the handle. Lee, though...Lee took in every situation with the same grim determination as a 90-year-old war vet who’d seen it all and no longer cared as long as he had a good meal and a comfortable bed at the end of the day.

He’s just like my father, Bill realized. The thought tugged at his chest and at his conscience. He and his dad didn’t get along, never had, but he should still call the old man. Tomorrow, maybe, he’d put the boys on the phone with his parents. In the meantime, he had an afternoon planned, and they were already running behind schedule. “Well, then, we won’t make you wait any longer,” he said. He held his hand out to his oldest son, but Lee had apparently forgotten all about him.

“We have to hold hands in crowded places,” Lee said and grasped Laura’s hand in his own. “Come on,” he said with a tug. She let him drag her up the steps to the museum doors without a backward glance.

Zak, always one to follow in his big brother’s footsteps, took hold of Grace’s hand and followed along, leaving Bill standing by himself. He’d planned this outing for the five of them, and they’d collectively ditched him on the sidewalk. He tried to be annoyed at how quickly his sons had abandoned him for two beautiful women, but he couldn’t stop a chuckle as he watched them disappear through the doors of the museum. Maybe his sons took after him more than he thought.

Zak bounced from exhibit to exhibit, poking and prodding at things, turning back to make sure that Grace was still with him before running along to the next. Lee, though, took his time, struggling to read through the description at each display, turning to Laura to help him with words that were beyond his grasp. She walked him through big words and answered the endless questions he asked about each exhibit. Laura held her own in the Wonderland exhibit and the Philadelphia cityscape, but she looked at him with pleading eyes when Lee started asking about the space station.

He knew his son, and he’d come prepared. Bill had done his homework on this exhibit and answered Lee’s questions about atmosphere and gravity and space travel as best he could. Thank God for Google, he muttered to himself. When Lee asked questions that three hours of internet research couldn’t answer, he set his son loose on a museum volunteer. When the kid looked up at him with a terrified expression, Bill felt the tiniest bit guilty, but the volunteer was getting paid and Zak was starting to whine about being hungry. Three hours had gone by; Lee could stay until the museum closed and not be done, but Zak was getting to the point where he needed food and a nap, or else there would be a meltdown.

He’d promised Carolanne he wouldn’t exhaust the boys; more to the point, he didn’t want Laura to think that he wasn’t capable of keeping up with his sons’ needs. He cut into Lee’s conversation with the volunteer and told him that he could ask two more questions.

Lee being Lee, he negotiated his father up to four questions. Bill looked up to see how Zak was doing - his youngest had his little arm curled around Laura’s legs, and she was absently stroking her fingers through his hair as she chatted with Grace. Four questions it was.

“Only four. Choose wisely.”

Sage advice. He wished someone had given it to him eight years ago.

He promised Carolanne he wouldn’t exhaust the boys, and he’d also promised her that he’d feed them something other than pizza and cheesesteaks. Laura pointed him to a small cafe down the street that had a kid-friendly menu, so the five of them squeezed into a booth and shared a pitcher of Coke. (He never promised Carolanne anything about soda, even though he knew he’d regret it in a few hours when the boys were still riding a caffeine high.) Laura did the ordering, salads for the adults and Grace, sandwiches and carrot sticks for the boys. She teased Zak about not eating the crusts, pushed tomatoes off of her salad so that Lee could dip them in ranch dressing and polish them off, and raised a practiced eyebrow when Grace announced that she was in performance mode and couldn’t possibly finish her meal.

“She doesn’t want you to see her eating,” she whispered to Bill. “She’s afraid you’ll think she’s going to get fat.”

If there was one thing that Bill never needed to hear again, it was a dancer complaining about getting fat. “Eat your salad. All of it. You’re no good to me if you pass out because you’re hungry.” He tossed a piece of bread onto her plate. “And eat that too.”

Grace wrinkled her nose at him. “Carbs?”

“Delicious carbs.” He took a bite of the chunk of bread on his plate. “Even better with butter.”

She snorted, but she picked up the offending piece of sourdough and took a bite. “Happy now?”

“Yes,” he agreed. He met Laura’s eyes and saw the relief shining there. Two can play this game. He looked down at Laura’s half-finished salad. “Bony elbows,” he reminded her.

She plucked the half-eaten piece of bread off his plate and polished it off. “Happy now?” she repeated with a grin after she swallowed.

Happy didn’t even begin to cover it. “It’s a start.”

***

The boys were sacked out on his bed by 9pm, but Bill was wide awake. After leaving Laura and Grace in the early evening, he’d brought the boys home and played six rounds of Go Fish, and his pride was more than a little dented that he’d lost to Lee five of the six rounds. He’d read them two stories, talked to them about what they wanted to be when they grew up and promised them he’d take them to the studio in the morning to watch a rehearsal before Zak and then Lee had finally nodded off. Now, he was absently wiping down the counters in his kitchen, going over and over the day in his head.

Did it make him a bad father that his thoughts kept getting caught up in Laura?

No more than it made you a bad husband, he could hear Carolanne whisper in his mind, and he had to concede the point to his imaginary ex-wife. He’d been a shitty husband, but at least now he could see that. Someday, maybe, he’d be brave enough to apologize to her.

Someday, but not today. Carolanne wasn’t stupid; she knew full well what was keeping him in Philadelphia, and it wasn’t the job. He’d hear about it when the boys went home and told their mother about Daddy’s friend Laura. It might well be a long time before he got another weekend like this with his sons in his home, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Seeing Laura with his boys, watching her patiently answer Lee’s questions and tuck Zak into her side when he started to nod off after dinner...years ago, he’d dreamed about how she would be with their kids. The reality was so much better.

He ducked his head into the bedroom to check on his sleeping sons. How could two small boys expand to take up the space of a queen-sized bed? Lee had his arms and legs flung out, and Zak and worked his way down to the foot of the bed, his arms dangling over the side.

So glad he’d invested in those air mattresses that they wouldn’t be using. He’d be sleeping on the couch tonight, for sure. He eased the dresser drawer open and grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of sweats. If he had to sleep on the couch, he might as well be comfortable.  

The couch was cheap and functional,much like the rest of the furniture in his apartment. Now that he was planning to stay in Philadelphia, he needed to move to a bigger place with better furniture. The cushions’ rough seams dug into his back, and he shifted a few times to try and get more comfortable. He debated turning on the TV and trying to find an old movie to help lull him into sleep, but he knew that there was one sure-fire way to shut up his brain for the night.

It was barely 10pm; she’d probably still be awake. He picked up his phone and called Laura.

“I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight,” she said.

“Kids are asleep. Thought it might be nice to talk to another adult.”

She hummed in response. “Thanks for what you said to Grace. She’s usually not like that, but...we both know how that can go.”

They did. “You might be a picky eater,” he said, ignoring her laugh at that, “but you were never that bad. It’s good that you’re keeping an eye on her.”

“It’s tough being the boss.” Wasn’t that the truth.

“You’re doing a great job,” he said.  Another hum. God, he could listen to that all night. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask,” she replied drily.

“You were great with Lee and Zak today. And you’ve done a great job with Grace. Why didn’t you….” he cut himself off, suddenly unsure about how to ask the question. “Didn’t you want your own kids?”

Silence on the other end. He shouldn’t have pushed. Dammit, a friend wouldn’t ask that question. “I’m not trying to pry.” He was. “But you must have dated in the last eight years.”

Still, nothing. He was about to disconnect the call and try her again when he heard her sigh. “Things change,” she finally said.

He knew that, far better than he should. “Sure they do. But you’re young, and pretty and I find it hard to believe that you didn’t have someone.”

“Can we not talk about this?”

He picked up quickly on the sadness in her voice, and he should probably shut up and change the topic, but he couldn’t help himself. “Do you talk about this with anyone else?”

He could hear a sharp intake of breath. “Yes, Bill. With my doctor, and some specialists, and some very prickly insurance adjusters. Things change, and things happen, and it’s really none of your business.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He was sorry. Sorry for bringing it up, sorry for poking at old wounds he knew nothing about. Sorry that she didn’t want to talk about it.

“It is what it is,” she said, and by the tone of her voice, he knew the topic was closed for discussion.

Someday, he thought. Someday he’d get the full story out of her, but today was not that day. Today, she’d sat and whispered to his kids about space and dinosaurs and the Liberty Bell, and tonight, he needed to return the favor, not dig up old pain.

“So, you wanted to be an architect when you were a kid.”

She laughed at that, a sound he’d never get tired of hearing. “Among other things”, she said.

“Tell me about them. What did little Laura Roslin want to be when she grew up?” In the two years they’d lived together, he’d never asked that question, but now...now, he really wanted the answer.

She giggled again, and with a little prompting, he got her talking about wanting to be a vet, and an artist, long before she ever discovered ballet. He asked a few pointed questions and she answered in detail. Listening to her talk, he forgot about the cheap cushion seams poking into his back.

He forgot about everything but her voice in his ear, and kept talking to her until her stories drifted off into the deep breathing of sleep. He ended the call and laid his phone on his chest. Tomorrow, he’d see her again, and he could suffer through a few short hours on the couch until then.

[gyrlversion]

Undercover hero saved Labour MP from Neo Nazi murder plot

A former neo-Nazi who exposed a paedophile  white supremacist who wanted to kill a police officer and an MP turned became disaffected when the group, National Action, became more focused on terrorism. 

Robbie Mullen, who was a member of National Action, reported the plot involving Jack Renshaw to anti-fascist organisation Hope not Hate – who passed on the information to police. 

Renshaw wanted to kill Labour’s Rosie Cooper as welll as Detective Constable Victoria Henderson. 

Robbie Mullen, pictured, became a whistleblower and exposed a plot by paedophile neo Nazi Jack Renshaw to kill Labour MP Rosie Cooper and a female detective constable who was investigating him on suspicion of child sex offenses 

Jack Renshaw, pictured at a National Action demonstration is facing life imprisonment after being exposed by his former far right comrade who has turned his back on extremism

The 23-year-old convicted paedophile is facing life in prison for preparing an act of terrorism and killing the police officer and politician. 

A jury failed to return a verdict on whether Renshaw was a member of the banned far right group National Action.  

Mullen, whose insider information exposed the plot told The Mirror: ‘Jack had a grudge against the police officer because she was investigating him.

‘He didn’t really have a clue who the MP Rosie Cooper was. As an MP, she was seen by him as the puppet of Jews, trying to let immigrants in to weaken the white race.’

Mullen claimed Renshaw would prefer to have been killed by police during his terror attack rather than face justice for being a paedophile. 

Mullen said he went on his first White Pride march in 2015 and became involved with National Action. 

The group was banned following the murder of Labour MP Jo Cox.  

When members of National Action began discussing becoming ‘white jihadis’ Mullen contacted Hope not Hate and met with former far right activist Matthew Collins. 

Renshaw is currently serving a 16-month jail term for grooming two underage boys online

In July 2017, Mullen warned Collins about the planned double attack. Mullen said he was convinced Renshaw was serious about going on a killing spree.    

Jack Renshaw, 23, bought a 19in Gladius knife to kill the West Lancashire MP and exact revenge on a female police officer who interviewed him, the Old Bailey heard. 

Renshaw, from Skelmersdale, Lancashire, had admitted making preparations to kill his local MP and making a threat to kill police officer Victoria Henderson.

But he denied membership of banned extreme right-wing group National Action along with Andrew Clarke, 34, and Michal Trubini, 36, from Warrington.

A jury at his retrial was discharged, having failed to reach verdicts after more than 48 hours of deliberations and prosecutor Duncan Atkinson QC said he could not seek a third trial.

It can be reported today that Renshaw is a convicted paedophile who was jailed last June for 16 months after he groomed two underage boys online.

Jurors at Preston Crown Court found him guilty of four counts of inciting a child to engage in sexual activity.

He also received a three-year prison sentence two months earlier when he was found guilty of stirring up racial hatred after he called for the genocide of Jewish people.

National Action leader Christopher Lythgoe, 32, of Warrington, and his right-hand man Matthew Hankinson, 24, from Merseyside, who were present when Renshaw outlined his plans, were convicted of membership last year.

National Action is the first extreme right-wing group to be proscribed by the Government since the Second World War.

Renshaw had bought this knife with the intention of murdering Ms Cooper 

In December 2016, it was banned by the then home secretary Amber Rudd over its support for the murder of Batley and Spen MP Ms Cox.

Lythgoe reacted to the news by telling members that they would ‘just shed one skin for another’.

The North West contingent continued to meet in pubs and train together at a new mixed martial arts gym in Warrington, it was alleged.

Meanwhile, disillusioned Mr Mullen, 25, began leaking information about National Action to campaign group Hope Not Hate.

Shortly before his arrest, Renshaw met with National Action members Claudia Patatas, 39, left, and Darren Fletcher, 28, right, in Liverpool 

By July 2017, Renshaw was on police bail for making hate speeches and under investigation for child sex offences.

He decided on ‘suicide by cop’ rather than face a seven-year stretch in prison.

He bought a large machete to take revenge on a female investigating officer and kill his local MP.

Renshaw unveiled his plan at the Friar Penketh pub in Warrington on July 1 2017 to Clarke, Hankinson, Lythgoe and Mr Mullen.

Earlier that day, he had met convicted National Action members Darren Fletcher, 28, Adam Thomas, 22, and his partner Claudia Patatas, 39, in Liverpool.

After the pub meeting, Mr Mullen, from Widnes, Cheshire, reported the threat to Hope Not Hate and Renshaw was arrested.

Mr Mullen, who was granted immunity from prosecution, told jurors: ‘He said he was going to kill his local MP, Rosie Cooper. I said ‘Are you sure?’ and he said ‘Yeah’.

‘He said he would kill her, then try to take some hostages to lure the police officer that was investigating him to try to kill her because she was the reason behind it all.

‘He said his mind was made up. He had bought a machete.’

Renshaw had planned to murder Labour MP Rosie Cooper, pictured

Renshaw said he would wear a fake suicide vest so he would be killed by police, Mr Mullen added.

The defendant declined to give evidence in his retrial, but in his first trial last year explained his reasons for targeting Ms Cooper.

He said: ‘I wanted to send a message to the state that if you beat a dog long enough it bites – she just happened to be my local MP.’

Giving evidence, warehouse worker Clarke said: ‘National Action was immature. I was tired of it. I was thankful for the ban.’

He told jurors a Swastika bookmark found in his sister’s loft was ‘a joke’ and he only went to the Friar Penketh on July 1 on a ‘whim’.

He said: ‘Renshaw said something about an MP when I was drunk but I do not remember what he said. Whatever Renshaw was doing I heard it but I did not really pay attention because I was drunk.’

Office worker Trubini, who qualified as a teacher in Slovakia, admitted a shared ideology about white nationalism and opposition to multiculturalism.

But he said: ‘I would not jeopardise my job to be a member of a group that had no real impact.’

Trubini insisted he was ‘politically naive’ and having tried to read Mein Kampf, found it ‘boring and badly written’.

As she discharged the jury from returning verdicts, Mrs Justice McGowan said: ‘You have obviously worked very hard. You have obviously been very diligent. You have obviously worked your way through all the material so we understand and respect the decision you have made.’

She remanded Renshaw into custody to be sentenced on May 17.

Hope not hate chief executive Nick Lowles praised the bravery of Mr Mullen in foiling the plot but criticised police for being ‘too slow’ to act.

He said: ‘We all owe a great debt of gratitude to Robbie Mullen, our source inside this Nazi gang, for his bravery.

‘National Action was part a new, more extreme breed of neo-Nazis that vilified Jews, celebrated and encouraged violence and lauded Hitler. They wanted to ignite a race war in Britain.

‘While we welcome the various prosecutions which have taken place, the authorities and police have been too slow to act and missed too many warning signs about the changing nature of the far-right terror threat.

‘The Christchurch terrorist attack shows that there is a global network of far-right activists who are inspiring each other to launch violent attacks. This is no time for complacency about the threat we face from far-right terrorism.’

Mr Mullen said Jack Renshaw, pictured, was just days away from murdering Ms Cooper 

Matthew Collins, Hope not Hate’s head of intelligence, said: ‘We continually warned that National Action had not stopped recruiting and training after its ban in December 2016 and we were proven right when Robbie Mullen first came to us in April 2017.

‘At the time, police didn’t seem to have any idea that the group was still active, despite its ban. I can only pay tribute to Robbie’s persistence, which helped prevent the murder of an MP.

Mr Mullen thanked the organisation, saying: ‘By reporting Jack Renshaw’s murder plot and giving evidence in this court my life has changed. I had to walk out of my job, I was forced to move home and I have to live with a target on my back.

Renshaw, pictured, is facing life in prison 

‘But I know I had no other choice. Jack Renshaw was days away from trying to kill an MP, Rosie Cooper.

‘I now want to get on with the rest of my life – I hope that in doing so, and rebuilding my life, I can encourage others to take a different path than I did.’

Ruth Smeeth MP, who warned Ms Cooper after learning of the danger, said it had been a ‘truly shocking’ case.

She said: ‘Two years after the devastating murder of my colleague Jo Cox, we narrowly averted what could have been another appalling crime.

‘I cannot overstate Hope not Hate’s role and what might have happened had Robbie Mullen not been able to report Jack Renshaw’s plans. We all owe Robbie a huge debt of gratitude for what he did.’

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[fluentlanguage]

9 Great Websites For German Beginners

Pop quiz - Which one of these is your favourite reason to learn German?

You fell in love with a German speaker

You fell in love with the atmosphere of a beer fest or a Christmas market

You have not yet tasted the greatest bread on this Earth, but you’d really like to, and you’ve heard the bakery only offers it to German speakers

Your company works with German clients and their English is so good it’s embarrassing all you know is jawohl ein Bier bitte

You want to visit Germany and get a taste of the wonderful nature, forests, skiing, castles, Roman history, medieval town centres, comfortable trains, inviting restaurants, fairy tale rivers

There are no wrong answers here. ALL of the above are fantastic reasons to get started learning the German language. I have been teaching and sharing German language and culture for five years, and today I’m sharing some of my favourite resources for beginners.

Check out 2 or 3 of these resources and make sure you bookmark them to visit again and again!

Great German Learning Websites

Beautiful German castles and Germany.travel

Sometimes it's necessary to check out of verb tables and remember why you chose to learn this language in the first place. What better way than to dream of hiking up beautiful hills and discovering romantic castles? Castles beat cases, after all.

Mein Weg nach Deutschland

This is a great project from the Goethe institute. Where would we be without them! Follow the story of Nevin, a newbie in Germany (who excitedly photographs pretty much anything on her mobile phone). The videos are available with and without subtitles and each episode has practice exercises too!

Deutsch Plus and Jojo sucht das Glück

There are some truly great telenovelas out there, designed especially for German learners. Lovers of retro Germany will like Deutsch Plus, the story of shy TV intern Nico from Romania - it's vintage 1996 work. Even better - it's suitable for starters from day 1. For improvers, Brazilian student Jojo will be a fun resource.

Listening: Radio D

Another suitable resource for beginners right from day 1 - Radio D is an audio course. Nice plot and a very well supported website with grammar hints and word lists make this resource a go-to page for German learners of any age.

Dictionary: LEO

No German learner can do without LEO - it must be one of the best online dictionaries around! Language searches available in both directions, 7 supported language pairs with German, audio pronunciation and a well-attended forum finding even the most obscure expressions make this a bookmark no-brainer.

TIP: Read more on how to use a dictionary like the most successful language learners

German Uncovered

Learn German the natural way without complex grammar explanations and boring lessons. This course is based on a story, so you’ll be reading and having fun as you progress to level A2 at high speed.

Speak German Like a Native

If you find spoken German hard to understand, you need this course. This  is my 5* masterclass course for all levels. No other course digs into the sounds of the German language, giving you the confidence to even say Eichhörnchen and Wechselstrom like a native.

Got More To Add?

The German learning community out there is always growing, and I’d love to hear what you’ve uncovered online.

Leave a comment if you know where to go for grammar that makes sense, or the best Swiss expressions.