#most my friends are far away and everybody has different work schedules and its like. agh

[sarcasticallyinclined]

i have less than 2 weeks to figure out if i wanna do anything for my birthday :/

[maddieinwonder]

The Eighth

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None, this is a fluff-only zone!

Word Count: 2.3k

Plot: Reader has been in the BAU for one year and a lot has changed, especially her relationship with a certain genius. (Part 1 here!)

Author's Note: Seriously, I wasn't expecting my first two fics to blow up like that. Just, thank you to everyone who read them ♡♡♡

As for this one... I had to write a Part 2, basically as an excuse for me to write good things about everybody in the BAU and go wild with the backstories hahaha I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

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

Under the dim lighting of the BAU jet, your pen paused on the small book beneath it, causing a small blotch of ink to seep through its pages. The words usually flowed out of you without inhibition, but today was different, and frankly, you were feeling a little overwhelmed.

You didn't think the team would remember this, but today marked exactly one year since you joined the BAU. As if the universe were smiling down on you, the week also turned out to be a great one - or at least, as good as it could get around here.

The team had just closed a challenging case with minimal casualties, everyone had been ordered to have a long weekend off, and the person you most wanted to spend it with was dozing off beside you without a care in the world. Of course, he didn’t know about your feelings... yet.

Closing your journal, you gave up on writing as your eyes wandered restlessly toward your sleeping teammates.

Your eyes crinkled into a smile when your gaze landed on Hotch. This was the first time you’d seen him actually asleep on the jet, and in your opinion, he deserved whatever rest he could get. Since you joined the team, you had seen the man endure countless late nights in the office. Something you had quickly attributed to the missing wedding ring on his finger.

Yet, he remained a stalwart to the team. He constantly checked in with everybody, shielded the team from messy politics, and even managed to crack the occasional joke. Of course, he was still stoic most of the time, and you weren’t exactly sure if he was capable of blinking, but now you knew the warmth and care he possessed too.

Then there was Rossi, who had defied all your initial expectations. You had thought a celebrity like him to be gracious, maybe a little egoistic, but he was straight forward and meticulous to a fault. Still, it seemed he couldn't escape his nature as a performer, as he shone the brightest in the interrogation room.

The day you first witnessed him in action, your jaw had dropped to the floor, and he never stopped bringing it up in jest. He always joked that he didn't know whether you or the unsub was more shocked, but after that day, he also took the time to mentor you in the craft. You liked to think he was proud of how quickly you were able to put it into practice.

Your eyes wandered to Emily, sleeping soundly in the next seat. With Penelope and JJ’s busy schedules, she had taken on the role of showing you the ropes, and you had become fast friends. Turns out, the both of you were eerily similar: competitive, quick thinkers who never backed down from a challenge.

Unfortunately this meant you were never paired together on cases, but you did have an ongoing chess tournament slash drinking game. The chess was your idea, the drinking was Emily’s, and you were currently winning, much to your obvious pride and the rest of the team's amusement.

The person you actually got paired with the most was Derek; effectively fulfilling the fantasies of many women you knew. But as it turned out, the two of you made a damn good team. His calculated disposition combined with your breadth of knowledge - only rivalled by the good doctor - made you an extremely effective duo, and Hotch picked up on it immediately.

You being younger than him by a few years, Derek made it a point to check in with you often, and in turn, allowing you to glimpse at his pensive, empathetic, and insightful sides. He had become a big brother to you, and you like a sister. A bond that proved to be a strong one, across the many cases you tackled together.

You smiled to yourself, eyes landing on Penelope and JJ, dozing off together under a bright pink, knitted blanket whose ownership was in no doubt. It was rare that the tech analyst came along on cases, but she was always a welcomed presence for everybody involved.

Amidst the sea of gruesome cases sent to the BAU, you had come to look forward to Penny's witty banter, either over the phone or in person. The image of her colourful outfits and her outrageously decorated office were enough to make you believe in a light at the end of any tunnel.

It reminded you of your first case, an extraordinarily challenging one that the team managed to unravel in the nick of time. When you arrived back at the BAU, Penelope was the one to drag you out to celebrate. Little did you know, the rest of the team had also gathered at the bar with party poppers and birthday cake. When you found out that Penny had planned everything, you knew you had earned a friend for life.

As you smiled at the memory, JJ shuffled in her sleep and your attention was drawn to her sleeping figure. You didn’t know how she could look so perfect even when she was asleep. But then again, you’d come to realise that there was very little she couldn’t do.

You had already been friends with the communications liaison, but working with her in the BAU was a completely different beast. Of all the chaotic personalities in the BAU, only JJ had a hold over every single one. She was able to apply the same to the local police and media, and still meet the victim's families with the utmost grace and empathy.

During her brief window of absence when Henry was born, things just weren't the same. You liked Jordan, and you knew she always gave her best, but there was an unmistakable sigh of relief when JJ was back. And although she never asked for it, you and Penelope did everything you could to give her and Will a break from their newborn, including regular movie nights in with baby Henry.

Last but not least, the one that you couldn't forget even if you tried, Dr. Spencer Reid. You had joined the BAU because of him, you realised now. But what began as professional interest, had quickly developed into a full blown crush on your co-worker.

You realised this fact on an absolutely unremarkable day, except for the fact that your heart skipped a beat when Spencer walked into the office that morning. He wasn't wearing anything out of the ordinary, his usual combination of sweater vest and shirt, but when he smiled at you, your face flushed visibly and you wanted to melt into your chair in embarrassment.

If the genius had noticed it, he didn't let it show. But Derek most certainly did. Every chance he got that day, he teased you about your newfound crush on "pretty boy", and soon the news made it to everyone's ears. Emily not in the least, as she used the knowledge to win several chess games, much to your annoyance.

And still, Spencer remained oblivious. Despite how often you sat starry eyed listening to him explain a completely random fact. Despite how many weekends you spent together bonding over your shared interests in Star Trek and Doctor Who. Despite the fact that the seat next to him on the plane was basically reserved for you. You didn't think he knew, because he never made a move.

That's why you decided last week. The next time the team had a long weekend off, you would ask Spencer out on a date. You just didn't think it would happen so soon.

Midway through your thought, Spencer groaned in the seat next to you. His hands lifted to move his hair away from his face, and you resisted the urge to do it for him.

"Are we there yet?" He asked, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

You felt your heartbeat quicken at his voice, gravelly and soft, not fully back to reality just yet.

"No, not yet," you answered back in a whisper. "It's only 3AM. We have about two hours to go."

"Why aren't you asleep?" He asked. His head leaned back onto the headrest, but this time, his face turned towards yours. The two of you were far too close to each other for this to be work appropriate.

"Just thinking." You tapped the cover of your book with your pen in explanation, trying to look anywhere but at him. Spencer hummed in acknowledgement, the sound driving you wild. Then he did something you could have never expected.

"Hey," he began, pulling your gaze to meet his hazel eyes, "happy one year at the BAU." His lips formed a small smile, sleepy but genuine.

"You remembered?" You couldn't fight the wide smile that made its way onto your face, nor the glee that spilled out of your voice.

"Of course. Eidetic memory, remember?" He joked, gesturing at his head. Maybe it was the lack of sleep talking, but you felt like you were on the verge of tears.

"Thank you. Really."

"Hey, hey, hey, don't cry." Spencer said, suddenly sitting upright. He leaned forward as if to touch your cheek, but his fingers lingered in the air in between you awkwardly.

You brought your own fingers to your face, realising that you were, in fact, crying. A small laugh escaped your lips at the absurdity of it all.

"No, no, I'm alright, Spencer. Just overwhelmed, I suppose." You tried explaining, gently wiping the tears from your face.

"Why?" He asked, his voice laced with concern.

“I didn’t expect anyone to remember it, that’s all.” You said, feeling a little ashamed now, but your words seemed to light a fire in the doctor’s eyes.

“Well, whoever forgot it must be stupid because you’ve made a difference in the lives of every single person on this jet.” He said in an uncharacteristic huff.

This was your chance, you realised.

“Hey, Spencer,” you said after a pause, biting your lip nervously, “what difference did I make in your life?”

Spencer looked as if he had been caught, his eyes instantly darted to the seat behind you, his fingers twitching. You tightened your grip on your pen, willing yourself not to collapse from the anticipation.

“Of course, I-I mean, many things can’t be quantified due to its subjective nature, but you did change my life."

"Like?" You pressed on.

"You gave me something to look forward to everyday." He said, his eyes lifting to meet yours. You felt your heart soar a hundred stories above the ground.

"Really?" You were in disbelief, your voice barely a whisper.

"Really. You're... you're intelligent, beautiful, and you open my mind to new things every day. I feel like you understand me in ways the rest can't, and you’re the person I want to tell everything to. There’s nobody else but you.” He blurted out in a single breath, as if he'd lose the words if he waited any longer.

Your eyes threatened to spill tears again, but you blinked them back, preparing to say what you wanted to say to him long ago.

"Spencer... I like you. Like, romantically like you." You whispered, your eyes barely able to meet his. His eyes were wide open, his eyes glancing briefly at your lips.

And in a moment of pure bravery, as he explained later, he placed his hand over yours and squeezed. "Me too. I like you, romantically."

Long after that, he would tell you that he'd never seen you smile so widely before, and he instantly knew that he wanted to be the reason you smiled that way all the time. But in the moment, he just laced his fingers with yours.

You squeezed his hand back. Feeling calmed by his warm touch, you leaned closer to him. You still had one question on your mind.

"Did you know that I liked you?"

"I figured it out eventually. Last month." He said sheepishly. "But I've had feelings for you since a month after you joined the team." His cheeks turned a light pink at the confession.

"You know what? Me too." You blushed, leaning against his shoulder.

“Another thing we have in common now,” he said, resting his head on yours.

You weren’t willing to let him go now that you had him, and luckily, it seemed like he had the same idea, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.

The two of you fell into slumber easily, not even realising it when the jet had landed back in Virginia.

It didn't take long for the rest of the team to realise the interesting sight in front of them, but not even Penelope's high-pitched squeal managed to wake you up.

In the end, it was JJ who decided to end your unknowing humiliation by shaking the two of you gently. You and Spencer jolted awake, immediately taking in the various smirks and grins from your team in front of you.

"Ok, that's enough guys." Hotch announced. You noticed the small smile on his face before he turned around to leave the jet.

The team - mostly Emily and Penelope - looked as if they wanted to enjoy the sight for a little longer, but at Hotch's word, decided they would leave the teasing till later.

"That's not exactly how I imagined telling the team," Spencer said, when the two of you were finally alone. He ran his fingers through his hair in an action of mild distress, but you noticed the smile that was still glued to his face.

You leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek, enjoying the blush it left behind. "Well, that means less time with them, and more time with you," you teased.

Spencer picked up his bag and offered his hand to you. "I'm counting on it," he said, smiling widely.

You took his hand, your gaze trailing up his wrinkled shirt to his messy brown hair, finally landing on his earnest eyes. Of all the times in the past year you got to be the BAU's Eighth. This moment had got to be the best.

[shroomcult]

@soulxmakaweek

Day 4: Apologize

I fell way behind with Soma week because I got slammed with work and this monster of a fic took me too long to write.

Summary: 

Maka comes to realize that Soul had never felt fully comfortable around Crona, and in ignoring this entirely - she unknowingly hurt her closest friend.

Special thanks to Tori @chichirichick (she betas all of my dumpster fires, bless her) for proofreading this mess of emotions and also to Zi @azroazizah for coming up with the concept for this fic. 

**Disclaimer** This story is not about putting blame on Crona, but instead about acknowledging the fact that Soul went through trauma due to their actions and it was never taken into consideration by Maka before inviting them into their friend group. I'm not saying Crona didn't deserve support, but it's also completely valid for Soul - a victim of Crona - to not feel entirely safe around them regardless of their tragic background and circumstances. If Crona is a big comfort character for you and you feel you would likely be upset by this concept, then I recommend not reading it altogether. We all interpret things different and we're all entitled to our own opinions, and I'm not going to get in arguments with people over this.

It’d been a while since the Spartoi team was all together again.

After the fall of Asura, they really had no purpose to join forces as a team. No big baddie to unite them in ass-kickery. 

The skies were blue again. There were still Kishin eggs to take down, and a shaky new diplomatic relationship with the witches to maintain as well. 

Things were more or less … normal. Boring, even.

The only big difference Blackstar could discern was that nobody seemed to have time to just hang out and be friends anymore.

Kid was over his head with his new responsibilities, and while he was doing an admirable job filling his father’s shoes; there was a steep learning curve and his perfectionist tendencies only made it more challenging to overcome. He upheld a calm and collected demeanor in the public’s eyes, but Liz and Patty spent most of their time holding him together behind the scenes. 

Soul and Maka were a different situation entirely.

It was odd enough to adjust to the recent change in the nature of their relationship. They claimed to be the same as they’ve always been - just Soul & Maka. Only, they grew much closer after the hardships they had endured both in the book of Eibon and on the moon.

They had been close to begin with, but this was a different kind of close. Stolen glances, hands reaching for each other when they thought nobody was looking. Blushing for almost no damn reason. 

Something was going on between them - he could be sure of that.

More recently, however, Maka had been particularly obsessive about solving the dilemma of Crona’s entrapment on the moon. She was driving herself to a slow-burning insanity, considering every moment that she hadn’t rescued them yet to be a personal failure.

She’d been spending much of her time in the restricted section of the library, consuming every piece of relevant research for hours on end. Soul often stayed up there with her doing the same, or at the very least keeping her silent company when he was too burnt out to read anymore.

He’d also spent much of his extra time with Stein, training to perfect his sound-wave abilities into his own form of wavelength attack.

He’d been giving his all ever since making deathscythe status to hone his strength and better serve Maka. He’d even been able to hold his own for a surprising amount of time in the sparring ring against Blackstar, and that was a feat in and of itself.

All of the focus on Crona’s rescue had appeared to be wearing on him, though. 

Soul may have accepted Crona into his friend group for Maka’s sake, even empathized with them - but he had never fully trusted the demon sword meister. Although Soul was outwardly friendly towards them, Blackstar noticed the way his friend had watched them like a hawk before they turned back to Medusa. He was always ready for a scenario like that because he had never felt entirely safe around them to begin with.

Not that Maka had bothered to even take Soul’s feelings into consideration before forgiving Crona on his behalf.

She couldn’t have possibly been that dense. She had to have been actively ignoring the signs of Soul’s discomfort because she couldn’t handle acknowledging them.

And now she was doing the same thing all over again even with Crona as far away as the moon. It was obvious that Soul was doing what he always did - shoving his own feelings aside in favor of Maka’s. The loyal mutt of a boy valued her wellbeing far above his own, that was for certain.

He just seemed so exhausted of it all now. Searching tirelessly with Maka for a solution that may not even exist took up much of his time and energy.  

He never had the time to shoot hoops or play video games like he used to, and Blackstar was far above begging for his attention. He stopped even bothering to ask him.

Just for one night though, by some divine luck - everybody was willing to clear their schedule to have a late night dinner at the most beloved and heart-attack inducing burger joint in town. 

Every member of Spartoi was crammed into the largest booth in the restaurant and their chatter was loud enough to fill the whole section. 

There were multiple conversations happening at a time, but Blackstar was zeroing in on Soul who had his chin resting on his palm and that stupid, dopey look he got on his face when he was proud of Maka. Yuck. Keep it in your pants, loverboy.

Maka was next to Soul, his arm stretched out behind her on the booth, while Ox engaged her in a fiery debate over god knows what across the table from her. Judging by the redness in baldy’s face - Maka was on the winning side. He really couldn’t understand Soul’s hard-on for a bossy know-it-all personality, but whatever floats his boat he supposed.  

He decided he’d seen enough of that look on his best friend’s face and crumpled up a straw wrapper, dipping it in his soda and sticking it at the end of his straw.

He blew on the other end, sending the sticky wad of paper flying across the table. The projectile hit its target directly on the cheek.

“Fuck’s sake dude, how old are you?” he grumbled, reaching over the table to grab a handful of napkins to clean his face off with.

Maka snatched some of his napkins for herself, rubbing it vigorously into the flecks of cola that stained her uniform. “You got my shirt all wet, idiot.”

Blackstar simply threw his head back to cackle obnoxiously. “I just thought I should break up your lame little debate team fight before Ox over here pops a blood vessel. You know he can’t handle losing well.”

“I wasn’t losing!” Ox hissed under his breath.

Maka only met her opponent’s glare with a shit-eating grin.

“Hey, Maka! What had you stopped to talk with Professor Stein about earlier today?” Tsubaki cut in, obviously attempting to diffuse another argument between the two competitive brainiacs.

Maka’s expression relaxed into something a little more neutral, seemingly caught off guard by the question. Debate-mode successfully disarmed.

“Oh. Well… I just had some questions about my black blood research for him.” 

Blackstar didn’t miss the way Soul tensed up beside her at the mention of black blood. His face was void of any distinct emotion, but something was off in his body language. The way his shoulders squared as if he were instinctively bristling.

Anyone with a shred of social awareness could have deduced that black blood, Medusa, and Crona were not Soul’s favorite topics. It wasn’t unusual for him to shut down and discontinue any contributions to a conversation when any of these things were brought up. 

Unfortunately for Soul, all of those subjects were constantly on Maka’s mind since she began her obsessive pursuit for a solution to Crona’s ordeal.

“Oh? And what did he have to say?” Tsubaki pressed, completely oblivious to the tense situation she was potentially triggering.

“As you’re already aware, there’s not really any official research on the black blood that exists. We’ve been digging through countless books - gathering as much information about madness and Kishins as we can, but it can only get us so far. It would be so much more useful if we could get our hands on a physical sample of the substance itself.”

Soul’s eyes widened in concern, but only for a second before he slipped his usual poker face back on. His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously despite the veneer of calm he displayed.

“Anyways,” she continued, turning to look at Soul, “I was going to talk to you about this later, but maybe some of the black blood still remains in your system? I know we believed it was all gone, but surely there’s some residual amount of it lingering behind? Something we could maybe isolate, extract and create a concentrate of? Stein said it was unlikely, but technically possible. We have to try for Crona, right, Soul?”

He was no longer wearing his mask of apathy. Unmistakeable, visible discomfort was etched into his facial features and he was clenching his hands, knuckles whitening from the pressure. Everyone at the table was hushed and the tension was palpable.

“He doesn’t have to try anything,” Kid’s voice cut sharply through the silence, golden eyes flashing sternly at her.

A soft gasp escaped her and her eyebrows shot up, clearly taken-aback by the sudden burst of hostility from her boss and close friend. Her eyes darkened seconds later, determination setting in.

 “I think that’s his decision to make, and I’d like to hear what he has to say,” she turned her attention back to Soul, hope still shining in her eyes.

He fidgeted with his necktie, loosening it and clearing his throat. “Yeah, s’fine. Whatever you need, I guess.”

Maka’s face lit up into a bright smile that turned Blackstar’s stomach and she pulled Soul into a brief hug. “I knew we could count on you, Soul! You’re the best partner ever.”

“Whatever, it’s no problem. Just try not to drain me of all my blood, alright?” he chuckled weakly, avoiding her eyes in favor of staring a hole in the middle of the table.

She gave an easygoing laugh in response, and went back to conversing with Tsubaki as if she hadn’t just pressured her partner into volunteering himself as a guinea pig for the sake of someone who had literally sliced him open from shoulder to hip and infected him with black blood to begin with.

Is she fucking serious?

Blackstar was practically vibrating with fury from the interaction he’d just watched, and Tsubaki’s normally soothing hand on his shoulder did little to calm him down. When he glanced at Kid, he instantly knew the death god had shared his frustration with Maka’s obliviousness. 

It wasn’t long before Soul abruptly stood from his place at the end of the booth, pulling a twenty out of his wallet and placing it on the table in front of him.

“Soul? What are you doing? The food hasn’t even gotten here yet,” Maka blinked at him in confusion.

“I’m not feelin’ too great - gonna head out, sorry guys. Could you just bring my food back in a to-go box?” he said with an apologetic quirk of his lips. He squeezed her shoulder gently before turning on his heels and making his way out of the diner in long strides.

Why does she look so shocked? Does she really not understand that she’s been hurting him?

After that, the night passed by in a haze for Blackstar. He hardly spoke for the rest of the meal due to the fact that he was using all of his mental capacity to keep his impulse to stand up and loudly call his friend out in front of everybody in check. 

The only thing truly stopping him was the knowledge that Soul would likely be embarrassed and more than a little pissed off if he’d made a big scene over something that he wasn’t even willing to talk about.  

So he waited - held his tongue until he could lash out in private.

As everyone was saying their goodbyes, Blackstar watched her rise from her seat gathering her to-go boxes carefully and giving him a nod of acknowledgement before she headed out.

His eyes bore into the back of her head as she left, and Tsubaki’s hand clamped gently on him for the second time that night. Her eyes were crinkled with a gentle concern.

“I think you should leave this between them. If Soul wanted all of this out in the open, he would have had that conversation with her himself.”

A heavy sigh settled in his chest, “You know how he is. He’s the suffer in silence type and he always does her bidding. If nobody says anything, then nothing’ll change. I just want to talk to her - not like I’m gonna beat her ass or anything … unless she gives me a reason to.” 

“Blackstar,” she chided, fully aware that he would make good on that threat.

“I know, I know. I won’t be long, see ya at home,” he said, throwing up placating hands before stuffing them in his pockets and striding in the direction Maka had gone. 

            _______________________________________________

Maka set her walk home at a leisurely pace, dragging her feet slightly as she watched the sunset bleed into the sky above.

It wasn’t that she was trying to prolong seeing Soul, or that she wasn’t worried about the way he’d acted back in the diner - like something was eating at him. 

She was pretty positive that he wasn’t physically ill, which only left the option of it being an emotional issue. 

And getting Soul to talk about emotional issues was like trying to pull teeth from a temperamental bear. 

She had to figure out a way to go about this delicately, and she had to figure it out soon because their apartment block was fast approaching.

She stopped in her tracks when she felt the presence of a familiar soul behind her. His steps had been so quiet, she wouldn’t have even been aware he was stalking her from behind if it weren’t for her exceptional soul perception abilities.

“I know you’re following me, Blackstar.”

In moments, he was stepping out in front of her. “Wasn’t trying to hide. I need to talk to you,” his voice was uncharacteristically stern.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew Blackstar had some kind of problem with her since dinner. He was deathly quiet and glowering at her for most of the night; very unusual behavior from someone who never shuts up or hesitates to start a fight. 

“Okay, I’m listening,” she said, already preparing to defend herself against whatever absurd argument he wanted to pull her into.

“The whole situation with Crona - have you ever once thought about how Soul feels about it?”

Whatever she had been expecting to come out of his mouth - that wasn’t it.

“What? I mean, I know how Soul feels. He wants Crona to be safe, just like I do. What are you trying to get at?”

“I’m not talking about what he thinks about Crona being stuck in the deathdamned moon, Maka! I mean have you ever thought about how he felt when you forced Crona into his life to begin with? After being sliced open?” 

Maka’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline and her mouth opened and closed a few times, baffled by the question. 

“Soul understands why I welcomed Crona as a friend. He trusts me,” she answered, hoping her voice conveyed the confidence that she couldn’t find in this moment.

This entire conversation was throwing her off.

“Yeah, okay. He accepted your decision because he trusts you, or loves you or whatever the fuck. We all know that - but that doesn’t mean he was comfortable with it. It doesn’t mean he felt safe. He just stuffed his own feelings down, because he knew it made it easier for you.”

Her throat tightened as her own conflicting emotions overcame her. He had no idea what he was talking about. Soul was fine. He’s always been fine. 

“Did he say that to you? That he didn’t feel safe?” she choked out. 

“Soul? You think he tells people things? About his feelings?” he snorted. “No, he doesn’t have to tell me shit. It’s clear on his face every time you mention Crona, or Medusa, or that fucking blood.”

“Maybe you’re just making assumptions about how he feels!” she shouted back, gripping handfuls of the front of his shirt.

He leaned in, completely unfazed by the rage burning in her eyes. “You ever noticed how when Crona was around, he was always watching them out of the corner of his eye - twitching every time they made some sudden move. You ever noticed how quiet and withdrawn he’d get around them? Or any time they were brought up? You didn’t - because you didn’t want to.” 

“Shut up! Y-you’re making something out of nothing. Are you trying to tell me that I should just give up and forget about Crona? That they don’t deserve to have a friend?” 

Some of his aggression was fizzling out as he released a heavy sigh, placing his hands calmly over hers, still clenching in his shirt. “I’m not trying to say that you shouldn’t have helped Crona, or that you shouldn’t keep trying to help them now. I’m only telling you that even if Soul has forgiven and moved on - he’s still a victim of Crona’s actions. He suffered trauma from that, even if he’s too fucking stubborn to admit it. Just acknowledge that maybe he needs a break from thinking about them - all of that shit that happened - every now and then. Get your head out of Crona’s ass long enough to check if he’s okay too.”

She stumbled over wordless sounds as her hands went limp and released their vice-grip on his clothing. She was trying desperately to think of a way to refute the awful things he was saying, but Blackstar wouldn’t give her the chance. 

“If you gave him even half the thought you gave to Crona - maybe you would have noticed it like everybody else has. I just want you to think about it for a bit, that’s all,” his voice softened towards the end, shoulders sagging slightly as he turned away, leaving her to deal with the aftermath of his confrontation.

The heat of tears prickled behind her eyelids and she clenched her fists tightly to her sides. 

She wanted so badly to swing around and scream at Blackstar’s retreating figure that he was wrong, that he had no idea what he was talking about and of course she thinks about her weapon.

But the longer she allowed his harsh words to sink in; the more she could feel the sting of truth settling into her heart.

Had she really been so blind? 

             _______________________________________________

Soul had been laying on his back in bed, hands resting on his stomach and eyes pointed at the ceiling, unmoving for some time. He wasn’t entirely sure how many hours, but he knew his playlist had ended long ago - no music played from the earbuds that were still jammed in his ears.

He couldn’t explain the heaviness in his heart. The anxiety that often set in whenever Maka mentioned Crona or the black blood. It was all water under the bridge, wasn’t it? There was no point in allowing himself to wallow in all the negative emotions that punched him in the gut at the mention of their name. It was selfish to feel those things - it was his job to give Maka his full support. His own feelings were irrelevant.

It was just harder on this particular night. Sure, she droned on about those sore subjects often. Their research revolved around it anyways. He’d just hoped that it could have been different just for one night.

He’d secretly been ecstatic when Maka begrudgingly agreed to shelve her research just long enough to get a late dinner with all of their friends. A break had been long overdue. 

Things had been different between them, after all. They’d been sharing a bed, and they’d even shared a few kisses in the small, rare moments that they’d spent alone together - focused only on each other. They were chaste kisses, but he’d greedily take whatever he could get. 

As she became more frantic about her lack of results in helping Crona, he may as well have not even existed to her. 

He’d just needed that one dinner to pretend things were normal, to pretend as though he was on a date with her and she was willing to spend time with him and think about literally anything aside from her latest fixations. Instead, she’d asked him to play part in some unsound experiment - to prod for things that he hadn’t wanted to find again. It had only been made more uncomfortable by the scrutinizing presence of all of their friends. 

He’d felt used.

Soul perked up at the familiar sound of the front door creaking open and slamming shut. He was immediately ashamed of the pavlovian response he had to the sound of his meister returning - the little flip in his heart that made him feel like a stupid dog wagging its tail at the sound of its master.

Just keep to yourself. She doesn’t need to interact with you in this useless state of self pity. You don’t deserve her comfort.

Self-loathing curled in his gut and he kept his eyes stubbornly trained on a water stain in the ceiling.

Suddenly, light flooded into his dark room as his door was hesitantly opened. He reflexively brought himself to sit up on his elbows only to meet a teary-eyed Maka.

All self-indulgent angsty thoughts instantly evaporated from his head, and he was ripping his earbuds out and swinging his legs over the side of the bed to get up.

She made purposeful steps across his room, throwing her arms around his neck and forcing him back onto the bed with the motion.

“I’m so sorry, Soul,” she warbled mournfully into his sweater. 

“Huh? Sorry ‘bout what? What’s going on, Maka?” he tried to nudge her into looking up at him, but she adamantly refused.

She took a few shallow breaths before rubbing her wet cheek against the quickly-dampening fabric and looking up at him with dewy eyes.

“I haven’t been a good friend to you - have I? 

Was that a trick question?

“I-I don’t get what we’re talkin’ about here,” he stuttered uselessly, attempting to compensate for his lack of eloquence by brushing his fingers comfortingly through her soft hair.

“I never asked if you felt okay with Crona being around you. I never asked you if you forgave them at all - I just brought them into your space, your home. I just wanted them to have a chance at a normal life so badly - I ignored your pain, and I’m so sorry,” she rushed her confession out like it had been a breath she was holding in.

He had to fight the urge to bark out a laugh. It wasn’t that he found anything that she said humorous - it was just so strange that she was addressing this out of the blue. She’d seemed completely unaware as usual back at the diner, where had this even come from?

He was so lost in thought, he’d almost forgotten to respond and instantly regretted the prolonged silence he’d left her in. “Maka, it’s fine,” he insisted, “I get why you forgave Crona. I admire you for it.”

“But that doesn’t mean you were okay. I should have at least checked on you, or asked you about how you felt - or literally anything,’ she mumbled numbly from his chest.

“Hey. Look at me,” he said, lifting her cheek from its resting place against his sweater, “Sure, I didn’t feel the most comfortable around Crona. I think it was pretty awkward for both of us to be near each other. That doesn’t mean I dislike them, or didn’t want you to be their friend. You can’t beat yourself up over something I hadn’t bothered to tell you.”

His words hadn’t brought the comfort that he’d hoped they would, and her brows remained stubbornly crinkled. “If it had been me - if I was the one who’d been cut by that sword, would you still say that you don’t dislike them? That you’re okay with us being friends?”

It was a question that he instantly knew the answer to, but he was reluctant to say it out loud. He finally caved, bringing his eyes back to hers, “No. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive them if it was you.”

She closed her eyes tightly, nodding her head in grim acceptance of that truth. She had likely known that would be his answer already, but hearing it must have been difficult.

“But I love that about you. You have so much compassion. I only care for the few people that I’ve decided I love - I don’t have room in my heart for others like you do. I’d like to be more like you,” he whispered reverently, taking her cheeks in both of his hands and briskly wiping away all of the moisture he could reach with his thumbs.

“I should’ve had more compassion for you,” she lamented softly under her breath, eyes downcast.

“You’re not a fuckin’ mind reader, Maks. It was my choice not to bring anything up.”

She nodded slowly, but the way her grip tightened on him only confirmed his suspicion that she wasn’t going to forgive herself for it.

Minutes passed before a word was spoken, but Soul eventually cleared his throat. “You know, I don’t expect you to ever stop being friends with Crona, or to give up on rescuing them. I don’t want that. I don’t mind helping you like you’d asked earlier tonight, too. If that’s what you need from me, then I’m here.”

She brought herself to her elbows on top of him to get a better view of his face.

“I know. I’m not going to give up on them. But It matters to me that you’re happy too, and if that means you need a break from all that, then I want you to know that it’s okay to ask for that.”

“Right, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said in a hushed tone, distracting himself with a piece of her hair twirled between his fingers.

“And I don’t want to use your blood for research. It was wrong of me to even think of asking you that. We’ll find another way,” she assured him, voice tightening with emotion, “I definitely got carried away with all of this. It wasn’t healthy, and I really am sorry I’ve pushed you away in the process. We can’t solve this thing if we don’t have time to properly take care of ourselves. You’ve been working so hard with me, and I think we need more actual quality time together.”

“Yeah, I could get on board with that. I kinda walked out on dinner tonight, so how about we do something - just you and me tomorrow? Movies sound good?”

“Movies sounds great,” she hummed in agreement, hands idly playing with his hair.

As much as he would have preferred for her to continue her ministrations, he stopped her movements to grasp her hand, bringing it to his chest to rest above where she knew his scar was. He pressed down on her hand lightly.

“I’m glad it happened. I’m glad they gutted me, ‘cause I hadn’t understood what you meant to me till that moment,” he muttered, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head.

She only exhaled shakily, hand tightening against the evidence of his devotion.

“I just hate that it took a lecture from Blackstar of all people for me to realize that I’d been hurting you.”

His eyes widened a little at that new piece of information. Blackstar was the one that brought all of this on her mind? He could’ve sworn it would have been Kid if anyone. He couldn’t help but feel a little touched that Blackstar had been so concerned about him, but he was also somewhat irritated that his friend had distressed Maka as much as he had.

“Blackstar, huh? Remind me to have a conversation with him about mindin’ his own business,” he laughed half-heartedly.

“No, don’t. I’m glad that he said what he did - I needed to hear it,” she urged him.

“Doesn’t matter. He didn’t have to make my girlfriend cry from guilt over bein’ friends with someone,” he muttered, but his face immediately burned a bright red as soon as he’d caught what he’d called her.

She was a similar shade, holding her breath as well as his gaze with a tortuously difficult to decipher expression on her face.

“That is, uh- I mean… fuck.”  

Very articulate. Great job, Soul.

He hadn’t needed to agonize over whether or not he’d just fucked everything between them for long because her face soon melted into a warm, genuine smile.

“Girlfriend, huh?” she said with a glimmer of mischief in her eye.

“I’d like that. If that’s w-what you want,” he wanted to kick himself for the voice crack he just experienced. Not cool in the slightest. 

At least she got a good giggle out of it. The melodic sound squeezed something in his chest and he swallowed nervously as a response.

She brushed back his bangs, leaning in to place a soft kiss to his forehead. She peppered a trail of kisses down his cheek until she reached his lips. 

This kiss was far from chaste. She cradled his cheek and jaw as she slanted her mouth sweetly over his, pressing fervently, constantly moving against him and eliciting a breathy moan from him that he would never admit to making. 

When she tried to separate, he followed her, bumping noses for a moment and giving the corner of her mouth a few more enthusiastic pecks before backing up and allowing her room to look at his face. 

“Girlfriend sounds nice, actually,” she smiled broadly, letting her fingers brush against the back of his neck.

“Glad that’s settled, then,” he laughed easily, not even bothering to feel any embarrassment over the flush of his skin or the lightness of his breath.

He crushed her to his chest, and they stayed like that for a while, just listening to the other’s loudly beating hearts until they were lulled to sleep. 

He’d have to thank Blackstar with a game of basketball later.

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 12)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Billy Russo x Reader Word Count: 2731 Warnings: fluff, light angst

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: I know some of you may not have been happy about what happened in the last chapter and I expect that not to change here 🙈🙈

PART 11 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

It feels a little intimidating to be walking into an unfamiliar place. You and Billy decided to meet at a restaurant somewhat in between your apartments, although the commute straight from the hospital made the distance a little bit farther.

Even worse you were running late thanks to a last minute case that needed your attention. Billy understood and you hoped he believed you when you said you were still on your way. You were nervous and excited at the same time, not having been on a date in… well, you really don’t want to think about exactly how long.

It’s pretty crowded, not that you expected anything less for a Friday evening. You scan through all the faces that seemed to blend together in the dim lighting against the wall as you look for Billy. The long bar near the entryway is much brighter, with lighted holiday garland still up surrounding the shelves of liquor.

At the end of the bar you spot him and Billy’s dark eyes illuminate the moment he sees you. He stands up to greet you as you approach, and you both do an awkward dance of wondering if you should hug each other or not. You went for it anyway, your heart beating a little faster as his arm wrapped around your back, squeezing you just a little.

“I’m glad you made it,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. The slight rasp in his soft voice made a tingle run down your spine in the best way.

Texting him had been a lot easier, when you only recalled his good looks by memory, without the pressure of staring back at his handsome face. Billy gently placed his hand against your back as he guided you towards the host. You were seated in the back, hopefully far enough away from the crowds huddled around the TV near the bar showing tonight’s basketball game.

Sitting across from Billy you couldn’t help but feel awkward under his focused gaze. Your cheeks began to heat up and you’ve never been more thankful for a server to appear. You ordered a drink, hoping it would arrive soon enough to help you over the hurdle of your awkwardness and shed the first date jitters.

A thunderous cheer from the bar startled you, making you cringe internally for nearly jumping in your seat but the sound of Billy’s sweet laughter eased your worries. Your minor embarrassment allowed for the conversation to flow freely, and over much better food than you expected this bar to have, you and Billy got to know each other better.

His company ANVIL provided private security and tactical training seminars. What stuck with you most was how all of his employees were veterans.

“It changes you.” He spoke about war, each word a poignant reminder that he too has battle scars, both visible and not. “A lot of us felt lost comin’ home. We can’t pretend we fit back into a world when the puzzle’s changed on us. This is my way of helpin’ my brothers find their place again.”

Sighing softly, it felt like your heart doubled in size as you listened to him, believing in all the good he was doing for those that needed purpose again. Your hand reached out across the table towards Billy’s, gently rubbing your thumb along his skin as your palm covered his knuckles. It made you second guess if his smooth skin is about grooming or if he’s erasing every hardened memory of his past, softening his skin to soothe the trauma of his mind.

You felt a connection with Billy because of this, finding commonality in your work. Even though ANVIL is in security, it still provides a therapeutic environment to its employees. You opened up to share your own background and why social work is so important to you.

“I have seven months to go until I graduate and I honestly can’t wait. It’s been such a long journey to get to this point but everything will be worth it. To be the person that can make a difference in someone’s life, to stand up for them, help and protect them; it really means so much to me.”

Billy is quiet for a moment, meditating on his thoughts. His mouth opens but he chooses not to speak, offering a gentle smile instead. There’s a silent understanding that he isn’t ready to continue talking. It’s a heavy subject and certainly not the best first date material, but somehow everything felt right.

He paid for everything despite your offering to split the bill, lacing his fingers with yours as he walked with you a few blocks to the subway station. Even though it was Friday, you were exhausted and really needed to go home and crash.

Under the glow of a street lamp you kissed Billy goodnight, feeling a rush of excitement warming your body as you craved more of the softness of his lips. His hand came against your cheek as he parted your lips with his tongue.

Your knees buckled under the caress of his tongue against yours and Billy felt the way your body wanted to melt against his. His hands wrapped around your waist as he continued to steal the breath from your lungs.

It may be cold outside but right now all you can feel is the heat simmering in your bones. The longer Billy kisses you the more you want to let him, your core aching with desire, begging you to take him home.

A soft bubble erupts in the back of your throat and you pull away breathless. Pressing your kiss swollen lips together you smile at Billy, seeing his pink dusted cheeks that could have been from the cold but the lustful gleam in his eyes say otherwise.

It’s very tempting to give in to what you want but common sense gets the win for the night. You part, promising to speak again tomorrow and honestly, you couldn’t wait.

“Earth to Y/N! Hello!” Wanda waved her hand in front of your face that had been glued to your phone all night, accompanied by the smile that would not fade.

“S-sorry, sorry. You were saying?”

Wanda huffed, rolling her eyes as she continued her conversation, asking everybody their opinions on her plans for Valentine’s Day with Sam.

“I think it’s a lovely idea,” Peggy replied, snuggling a little closer to Steve as she thought of the plans they’ll be sharing.

Natasha was quiet, taking a sip from her drink as she observed you curiously. You were trying desperately to not touch your phone, though your eyes couldn’t help but dart towards the screen that lit up every few minutes.

It was odd considering Bucky was seated beside you, his phone nowhere in sight as he propped his elbows against the table, hand curled lazily around his beer. She had caught a glimpse of your shared kiss on New Year’s Eve, pointing Clint in your direction as well so they could share in the satisfaction of being right.

From the moment you no longer wanted to kill Bucky they had been taking bets on how long it would take for you to hook up. Clint had bet by Halloween but Natasha knew it would take longer. Although now she’s unsure if she truly won the bet. You and Bucky kissed of course but nothing else suggests you had gone further; and by the ever growing smile on your face as you ignore everyone including Bucky, she has a strong suspicion of what may have derailed her chance of winning.

“Y/N, for Valentine’s Day do you have plans with your mystery texter?” Natasha asked, silencing the entire table.

A grin spread across her face as your eyes began to widen. You were caught. Not that you had done anything at all to hide it.

Wanda’s mouth fell open. “Could it be?!”

“Details, now!” Steve practically commanded. Feeling like the honorary older brother in your life he absolutely needed to know who was causing you to act as giddy as you were.

“Okay, okay!” you laughed, holding your palms up as if you were caught red handed. Trying to control your smile, you took a deep breath before telling everyone about how you met Billy. “We’ve gone out a few times and he’s really sweet. I can’t wait for you guys to meet him!”

While almost everyone said they couldn’t wait Natasha noticed the way Bucky turned a little paler, grumbling the words under his breath before he washed them away with a hefty swig. She cocked her eyebrow at Clint, sharing an unspoken look they would definitely be discussing when they were alone.

Your stomach was churning and not because of the bloody glimpse you passed in the ER during your hours at the hospital. Tonight the entire group was getting together and they were going to meet Billy.

The thought had you shaking though you’re not sure why you’re so nervous. Billy has been a total sweetheart and you’re certain your friends will like him. It had been a few weeks since you first met and you had kept your dates mostly secret, not wanting to tell anyone until you were sure this was something worth speaking about.

Most of the dates have been low-key, meeting up at The Grind House or grabbing a quick bite to eat after work. Both of your schedules were pretty busy and you didn’t envy the fact that Billy ran an entire company. Only once did he have to cancel at the last minute; things came up and you completely understood. What you did not expect was a beautiful bouquet of flowers delivered to you at the hospital as an apology.

As you were getting ready you got a text from Billy saying he would meet you at the bowling lounge you were all going to since he was still working and it would be faster to head there directly. This only added to your nerves, having to wait just a little longer before Billy met everyone as opposed to breaking the ice with Bucky, Natasha and Clint on the way there as you imagined.

The moment you were hoping he could bowl well was when you decided you needed to stop overthinking everything and relax. Your friends will like Billy regardless of little things; as long as he treated you well, and he did, was all that mattered.

The subway was crowded, with bodies cramped even closer together to avoid the spilled drink right in front of the door. You were pressed against Bucky’s chest which you didn’t mind at all considering it could have been worse given the other passengers surrounding you. He was on alert as a man got on the next stop, with foam nearly frozen down his mouth and chin, mumbling loudly as he paced back and forth through the spill.

Bucky shifted his position so you were mostly behind him, although he was still turned to the side to keep his eye out just in case. You appreciated the gesture, smiling softly in silent thanks, taking note of the bags under his eyes. He hadn’t mentioned the latest project he was working on but you assumed it’s something that’s kept him up.

The brisk air moves right through you as you ascend the steps to the street, walking quickly past the large scattering of tourists that lazily stop along 42nd Street to take pictures despite the freezing cold. Thankfully you only had a few blocks to walk.

Steve and Peggy were waiting inside the lobby, informing you Wanda and Sam should be there shortly. You saw the text she had sent to everyone, skimming over it to text Billy and let him know you arrived. The nerves came back in full force as you saw the three dots appear as he was typing.

What if he couldn’t make it? What if he had to stay late at work? What if he just didn’t want to see you? What if this was some elaborate joke and you were tricked into believing somebody could actually like you?

Worrisome thoughts ran through your mind until Billy’s response came through. There was some relief knowing he was two blocks away, but the nerves still stayed, hoping your friends would like him and do their best not to embarrass you.

“On your left,” a voice called out, and Steve turned around to see Sam, smiling beside a bundled up Wanda as they greeted each other. Apparently this was some inside joke no one else but them understood.

“When did it get so cold?” Wanda asked rhetorically, blowing out puffs of cold air as she loosened the scarf from around her neck. She greeted everyone, realizing all but one person was there. Just as she was going to ask about Billy he stepped through the door.

A wide smile spread across his face as he spotted you. His lean legs carried him towards you in long strides, cold lips and even colder skin pressing against your own as he greeted you with an affectionate kiss in front of your friends. Their middle school teasing of “oohs” broke the kiss, though your hand stayed cupped against his face, bringing warmth to his rose colored cheeks.

Bucky rolled his eyes at the display, a stranger in his mind, claiming his possession over you without a word spoken. Who does Billy think he is anyway? It’s practically below zero and he isn’t even wearing a hat. Pretty boy doesn’t want to ruin his hair, clearly. Bucky realized he was wearing his inner thoughts of disgust on his face, and quickly shook it off; yet the feeling of dislike for Billy hadn’t gone away as quickly.

Billy introduced himself to everyone as you stood beside him, unable to stop staring at how gorgeous he looked in a simple sweater and dark jeans. These were his colors, dark tones that matched his cavernous eyes, contrasting against the light skin of his perfect face.

From the corner of his eye Bucky couldn’t help but notice the way Billy’s hands were all over you, rubbing your back as you all waited for the employee to assign your lane, to the slip of his hand in the back pocket of your jeans.

His jaw clenched, anger rising in him for reasons he couldn’t quite understand but the moment he saw your face he let go of his tension with ease. You looked so happy, from the twinkle in your eyes to the smile you couldn’t contain. If you were happy Bucky was happy for you, even if he didn’t like it.

Two teams were chosen as you settled in to play, with Sam and Steve being the captains of each. Sam of course picked Wanda, along with Natasha and Clint while Steve chose Peggy first, with you, Billy and Bucky rounding out the rest of his team.

“I did it!” You jumped in surprise as you got a strike, by sheer luck since your first few turns made you wish the bumpers were inflated.

“That’s my girl,” Billy said smiling, cocking his head as he waited for you to come back to the bench.

Bucky was up next. Grabbing the swirly blue ball, he released it with a vigorous throw, not bothering at all to really aim. He took a few pins down, and waited for the ball to come back by the machine. Somehow throwing a heavy object at other objects made everything feel a little better but the sight of you making out with Billy crushed any attempts at his spirit feeling renewed.

During the games drinks and food were ordered and you were happy because it seemed like everyone was getting along with Billy. After two games Sam’s team ended up with the higher scores, and he absolutely rubbed it in Steve’s face.

“My shift is early tomorrow so I’m gonna head out,” Sam said, getting up from the table.

It wasn’t terribly late but considering how cold it was no one else really wanted to stay out to do anything. Bucky shrugged on his coat, watching Billy lean in to whisper something in your ear that made your lips pull into a smirk. As you said goodnight to everyone Bucky realized you wouldn’t be joining him, Natasha and Clint home.

PART 13

[dornish-queen]

Pedro Pascal on Fame and ‘The Mandalorian’: ‘Can We Cut the S— and Talk About the Child?’

By Adam B. Vary

Photographs by Beau Grealy

When Pedro Pascal was roughly 4 years old, he and his family went to see the 1978 hit movie “Superman,” starring Christopher Reeve. Pascal’s young parents had come to live in San Antonio after fleeing their native Chile during the rise of dictator Augusto Pinochet in the mid-1970s. Taking Pascal and his older sister to the movies — sometimes more than once a week — had become a kind of family ritual, a way to soak up as much American pop culture as possible.

At some point during this particular visit, Pascal needed to go to the bathroom, and his parents let him go by himself. “I didn’t really know how to read yet,” Pascal says with the same Cheshire grin that dazzled “Game of Thrones” fans during his run as the wily (and doomed) Oberyn Martel. “I did not find my way back to ‘Superman.'”

Instead, Pascal wandered into a different theater (he thinks it was showing the 1979 domestic drama “Kramer vs. Kramer,” but, again, he was 4). In his shock and bewilderment at being lost, he curled up into an open seat and fell asleep. When he woke up, the movie was over, the theater was empty, and his parents were standing over him. To his surprise, they seemed rather calm, but another detail sticks out even more.

“I know that they finished their movie,” he says, bending over in laughter. “My sister was trying to get a rise out of me by telling me, ‘This happened and that happened and then Superman did this and then, you know, the earthquake and spinning around the planet.'” In the face of such relentless sibling mockery, Pascal did the only logical thing: “I said, ‘All that happened in my movie too.'”

He had no way of knowing it at the time, of course, but some 40 years later, Pascal would in fact get the chance to star in a movie alongside a DC Comics superhero — not to mention battle Stormtroopers and, er, face off against the most formidable warrior in Westeros. After his breakout on “Game of Thrones,” he became an instant get-me-that-guy sensation, mostly as headstrong, taciturn men of action — from chasing drug traffickers in Colombia for three seasons on Netflix’s “Narcos” to squaring off against Denzel Washington in “The Equalizer 2.”

This year, though, Pascal finds himself poised for the kind of marquee career he’s spent a lifetime dreaming about. On Oct. 30, he’ll return for Season 2 as the title star of “The Mandalorian,” Lucasfilm’s light-speed hit “Star Wars” series for Disney Plus that earned 15 Emmy nominations, including best drama, in its first season. And then on Dec. 25 — COVID-19 depending — he’ll play the slippery comic book villain Maxwell Lord opposite Gal Gadot, Chris Pine and Kristen Wiig in “Wonder Woman 1984.”

The roles are at once wildly divergent and the best showcase yet for Pascal’s elastic talents. In “The Mandalorian,” he must hide his face — and, in some episodes, his whole body — in a performance that pushes minimalism and restraint to an almost ascetic ideal. In “Wonder Woman 1984,” by stark contrast, he is delivering the kind of big, broad bad-guy character that populated the 1980s popcorn spectaculars of his youth.

“I continually am so surprised when everybody pegs him as such a serious guy,” says “Wonder Woman 1984” director Patty Jenkins. “I have to say, Pedro is one of the most appealing people I have known. He instantly becomes someone that everybody invites over and you want to have around and you want to talk to.”

Talk with Pascal for just five minutes — even when he’s stuck in his car because he ran out of time running errands before his flight to make it to the set of a Nicolas Cage movie in Budapest — and you get an immediate sense of what Jenkins is talking about. Before our interview really starts, Pascal points out, via Zoom, that my dog is licking his nether regions in the background. “Don’t stop him!” he says with an almost naughty reproach. “Let him live his life!”

Over our three such conversations, it’s also clear that Pascal’s great good humor and charm have been at once ballast for a number of striking hardships, and a bulwark that makes his hard-won success a challenge for him to fully accept.

Before Pascal knew anything about “The Mandalorian,” its showrunner and executive producer Jon Favreau knew he wanted Pascal to star in it.

“He feels very much like a classic movie star in his charm and his delivery,” says Favreau. “And he’s somebody who takes his craft very seriously.” Favreau felt Pascal had the presence and skill essential to deliver a character — named Din Djarin, but mostly called Mando — who spends virtually every second of his time on screen wearing a helmet, part of the sacrosanct creed of the Mandalorian order.

Convincing any actor to hide their face for the run of a series can be as precarious as escaping a Sarlacc pit. To win Pascal over in their initial meeting, Favreau brought him behind the “Mandalorian” curtain, into a conference room papered with storyboards covering the arc of the first season. “When he walked in, it must have felt a little surreal,” Favreau says. “You know, most of your experiences as an actor, people are kicking the tires to see if it’s a good fit. But in this case, everything was locked and loaded.”

Needless to say, it worked. “I hope this doesn’t sound like me fashioning myself like I’m, you know, so smart, but I agreed to do this [show] because the impression I had when I had my first meeting was that this is the next big s—,” Pascal says with a laugh.

Favreau’s determination to cast Pascal, however, put the actor in a tricky situation: Pascal’s own commitments to make “Wonder Woman 1984” in London and to perform in a Broadway run of “King Lear” with Glenda Jackson barreled right into the production schedule for “The Mandalorian.” Some scenes on the show, and in at least one case a full episode, would need to lean on the anonymity of the title character more than anyone had quite planned, with two stunt performers — Brendan Wayne and Lateef Crowder — playing Mando on set and Pascal dubbing in the dialogue months later.

Pascal was already being asked to smother one of his best tools as an actor, extraordinarily uncommon for anyone shouldering the newest iteration of a global live-action franchise. (Imagine Robert Downey Jr. only playing Iron Man while wearing a mask — you can’t!) Now he had to hand over control of Mando’s body to other performers too. Some actors would have walked away. Pascal didn’t.

“If there were more than just a couple of pages of a one-on-one scene, I did feel uneasy about not, in some instances, being able to totally author that,” he says. “But it was so easy in such a sort of practical and unexciting way for it to be up to them. When you’re dealing with a franchise as large as this, you are such a passenger to however they’re going to carve it out. It’s just so specific. It’s ‘Star Wars.'” (For Season 2, Pascal says he was on the set far more, though he still sat out many of Mando’s stunts.)

“The Mandalorian” was indeed the next big s—, helping to catapult the launch of Disney Plus to 26.5 million subscribers in its first six weeks. With the “Star Wars” movies frozen in carbonite until 2023 (at least), I noted offhand that he’s now effectively the face of one of the biggest pop-culture franchises in the world. Pascal could barely suppress rolling his eyes.

“I mean, come on, there isn’t a face!” he says with a laugh that feels maybe a little forced. “If you want to say, ‘You’re the silhouette’ — which is also a team effort — then, yeah.” He pauses. “Can we just cut the s— and talk about the Child?”

Yes, of course, the Child — or, as the rest of the galaxy calls it, Baby Yoda. Pascal first saw the incandescently cute creature during his download of “Mandalorian” storyboards in that initial meeting with Favreau. “Literally, my eyes following left to right, up and down, and, boom, Baby Yoda close to the end of the first episode,” he says. “That was when I was like, ‘Oh, yep, that’s a winner!'”

Baby Yoda is undeniably the breakout star of “The Mandalorian,” inspiring infinite memes and apocryphal basketball game sightings. But the show wouldn’t work if audiences weren’t invested in Mando’s evolving emotional connection to the wee scene stealer, something Favreau says Pascal understood from the jump. “He’s tracking the arc of that relationship,” says the showrunner. “His insight has made us rethink moments over the course of the show.” (As with all things “Star Wars,” questions about specifics are deflected in deference to the all-powerful Galactic Order of Spoilers.)

Even if Pascal couldn’t always be inside Mando’s body, he never left the character’s head, always aware of how this orphaned bounty hunter who caroms from planet to planet would look askance at anything that felt too good (or too adorable) to be true.

“The transience is something that I’m incredibly familiar with, you know?” Pascal says. “Understanding the opportunity for complexity under all of the armor was not hard for me.”

When Pascal was 4 months old, his parents had to leave him and his sister with their aunt, so they could go into hiding to avoid capture during Pinochet’s crackdown against his opposition. After six months, they finally managed to climb the walls of the Venezuelan embassy during a shift change and claim asylum; from there, the family relocated, first to Denmark, then to San Antonio, where Pascal’s father got a job as a physician.

Pascal was too young to remember any of this, and for a healthy stretch of his childhood, his complicated Chilean heritage sat in parallel to his life in the U.S. — separate tracks, equally important, never quite intersecting. By the time Pascal was 8, his family was able to take regular trips back to Chile to visit with his 34 first cousins. But he doesn’t remember really talking about any of his time there all that much with his American friends.

“I remember at one point not even realizing that my parents had accents until a friend was like, ‘Why does your mom talk like that?'” Pascal says. “And I remember thinking, like what?”

Besides, he loved his life in San Antonio. His father took him and his sister to Spurs basketball games during the week if their homework was done. He hoodwinked his mother into letting him see “Poltergeist” at the local multiplex. He watched just about anything on cable; the HBO special of Whoopi Goldberg’s one-woman Broadway show knocked him flat. He remembers seeing Henry Thomas in “E.T.” and Christian Bale in “Empire of the Sun” and wishing ardently, urgently, I want to live those stories too.

Then his father got a job in Orange County, Calif. After Pascal finished the fifth grade, they moved there. It was a shock. “There were two really, really rough years,” he says. “A lot of bullying.”

His mother found him a nascent performing arts high school in the area, and Pascal burrowed even further into his obsessions, devouring any play or movie he could get his hands on. His senior year, a friend of his mother’s gave Pascal her ticket to a long two-part play running in downtown Los Angeles that her bad back couldn’t withstand. He got out of school early to drive there by himself. It was the pre-Broadway run of “Angels in America.”

“And it changed me,” he says with almost religious awe. “It changed me.”

After studying acting at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts, Pascal booked a succession of solid gigs, like MTV’s “Undressed” and “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” But the sudden death of his mother — who’d only just been permitted to move back to Chile a few years earlier — took the wind right from Pascal’s sails. He lost his agent, and his career stalled almost completely.

As a tribute to her, he decided to change his professional last name from Balmaceda, his father’s, to Pascal, his mother’s. “And also, because Americans had such a hard time pronouncing Balmaceda,” he says. “It was exhausting.”

Pascal even tried swapping out Pedro for Alexander (an homage to Ingmar Bergman’s “Fanny and Alexander,” one of the formative films of his youth). “I was willing to do absolutely anything to work more,” he says. “And that meant if people felt confused by who they were looking at in the casting room because his first name was Pedro, then I’ll change that. It didn’t work.”

It was a desperately lean time for Pascal. He booked an occasional “Law & Order” episode, but mostly he was pounding the pavement along with his other New York theater friends — like Oscar Isaac, who met Pascal doing an Off Broadway play. They became fast, lifelong friends, bonding over their shared passions and frustrations as actors.

“It’s gotten better, but at that point, it was so easy to be pigeonholed in very specific roles because we’re Latinos,” says Isaac. “It’s like, how many gang member roles am I going to be sent?” As with so many actors, the dream Pascal and Isaac shared to live the stories of their childhoods had been stripped down to its most basic utility. “The dream was to be able to pay rent,” says Isaac. “There wasn’t a strategy. We were just struggling. It was talking about how to do this thing that we both love but seems kind of insurmountable.”

As with so few actors, that dream was finally rekindled through sheer nerve and the luck of who you know, when another lifelong friend, actor Sarah Paulson, agreed to pass along Pascal’s audition for Oberyn Martell to her best friend Amanda Peet, who is married to “Game of Thrones” co-showrunner David Benioff.

“First of all, it was an iPhone selfie audition, which was unusual,” Benioff remembers over email. “And this wasn’t one of the new-fangled iPhones with the fancy cameras. It looked like s—; it was shot vertical; the whole thing was very amateurish. Except for the performance, which was intense and believable and just right.”

Before Pascal knew it, he found himself in Belfast, sitting inside the Great Hall of the Red Keep as one of the judges at Tyrion Lannister’s trial for the murder of King Joffrey. “I was between Charles Dance and Lena Headey, with a view of the entire f—ing set,” Pascal says, his eyes wide and astonished still at the memory. “I couldn’t believe I didn’t have an uncomfortable costume on. You know, I got to sit — and with this view.” He sighs. “It strangely aligned itself with the kind of thinking I was developing as a child that, at that point, I was convinced was not happening.”

And then it all started to happen.

In early 2018, while Pascal was in Hawaii preparing to make the Netflix thriller “Triple Frontier” — opposite his old friend Isaac — he got a call from the film’s producer Charles Roven, who told him Patty Jenkins wanted to meet with him in London to discuss a role in another film Roven was producing, “Wonder Woman 1984.”

“It was a f—ing offer,” Pascal says in an incredulous whisper. “I wasn’t really grasping that Patty wanted to talk to me about a part that I was going to play, not a part that I needed to get. I wasn’t able to totally accept that.”

Pascal had actually shot a TV pilot with Jenkins that wasn’t picked up, made right before his life-changing run on “Game of Thrones” aired. “I got to work with Patty for three days or something and then thought I’d never see her again,” he says. “I didn’t even know she remembered me from that.”

She did. “I worked with him, so I knew him,” she says. “I didn’t need him to prove anything for me. I just loved the idea of him, and I thought he would be kind of unexpected, because he doesn’t scream ‘villain.'”

In Jenkins’ vision, Max Lord — a longstanding DC Comics rogue who shares a particularly tangled history with Wonder Woman — is a slick, self-styled tycoon with a knack for manipulation and an undercurrent of genuine pathos. It was the kind of larger-than-life character Pascal had never been asked to tackle before, so he did something equally unorthodox: He transformed his script into a kind of pop-art scrapbook, filled with blown-up photocopies of Max Lord from the comic books that Pascal then manipulated through his lens on the character.

Even the few pages Pascal flashes to me over Zoom are quite revealing. One, featuring Max sporting a power suit and a smarmy grin, has several burned-out holes, including through the character’s eye. Another page features Max surrounded by text bubbles into which Pascal has written, over and over and over again in itty-bitty lettering, “You are a f—ing piece of s—.”

“I felt like I had wake myself up again in a big way,” he says. “This was just a practical way of, like, instead of going home tired and putting Netflix on, [I would] actually deal with this physical thing, doodle and think about it and run it.”

Jenkins is so bullish on Pascal’s performance that she thinks it could explode his career in the same way her 2003 film “Monster” forever changed how the industry saw Charlize Theron. “I would never cast him as just the stoic, quiet guy,” Jenkins says. “I almost think he’s unrecognizable from ‘Narcos’ to ‘Wonder Woman.’ Wouldn’t even know that was the same guy. But I think that may change.”

When people can see “Wonder Woman 1984” remains caught in the chaos the pandemic has wreaked on the industry; both Pascal and Jenkins are hopeful the Dec. 25 release date will stick, but neither is terribly sure it will. Perhaps it’s because of that uncertainty, perhaps it’s because he’s spent his life on the outside of a dream he’s now suddenly living, but Pascal does not share Jenkins’ optimism that his experience making “Wonder Woman 1984” will open doors to more opportunities like it.

“It will never happen again,” Pascal says, once more in that incredulous whisper. “It felt so special.”

After all he’s done in a few short years, why wouldn’t Pascal think more roles like this are on his horizon?

“I don’t know!” he finally says with a playful — and pointed — howl. “I’m protecting myself psychologically! It’s just all too good to be true! How dare I!”

[ordinaryschmuck]

Top 20 BEST Animated Series of the 2010s-5th Place

Up until now, I’ve been pretty iffy on which show went where on this list. However, from here on out, there is no doubt in my mind the ranking is almost perfect (or, at least, to me it is). 

Just keep in mind, this next pick isn’t as cute and innocent as it might look.

#5-Camp Camp (2016-)

The Plot: Camp Campbell is a place where kids can go to do anything! Like space camp, theater camp, art camp, magic camp, and also other magic camp! It’s a dream come true...except for a little rapscallion named Max, who was forced to go there by his crappy parents. With the help of his two new friends, Neil and Nikki, the three of them will make it their life's mission to make life a living hell for their two camp counselors. Or, at least, it’s their life’s mission until the end of the summer.

This is the first and only web series on this list, and it is made by the (in)famous production company called Rooster Teeth. And trust me when I say that Camp Camp is the best show Rooster Teeth created ever since they started working on Red vs. Blue. And I can think of a couple reasons why.

Reason number one is the show’s comedy. Just like Rick and Morty, Camp Camp relies on being absurd and dark to get a laugh out of audiences. However, there is one thing Camp Camp has that gives it an advantage: The fact that it’s a show on the internet. There’s a lot of jokes that writers are not allowed to get away with on television. But on the internet, it’s all free game, baby! You want to make jokes about Hitler and the holocaust? Go ahead. You want a young cis boy to ask when he’s going to get his period? Go ahead. You want four kids to get scarred for life after catching old people having sex? Go right the f**k ahead. Because this is the internet. A place that is impossible to make kid-friendly, no matter how hard certain websites try! (And in case you’re wondering: Yes, all of those examples I just listed are actual jokes within the show. So have fun.)

With the benefit of having little to no filter, Camp Camp’s sense of humor allows it to go further with its jokes while having competent enough writers knowing the definition of “too far.” Because believe it or not, there is a limit that this show has with how far it’ll take its humor, and rarely does it feel like it crosses it (and it’s usually Kerry Shawcross’ episodes that crosses the line, oddly enough). Now, as I’ve established in my Rick and Morty review, not everyone is going to find these types of jokes funny. But for the most part, I personally think Camp Camp is hilarious. In fact, out of a fifty-nine episode line up, there is a total of ONE episode that I felt was low on the laughs. And like most good comedies, the best jokes come from who’s saying them and not what's being said. People need to remember that humor comes from the characters. Otherwise, when the gag goes to the wrong cast member, you’ll end up having people respond with, “but that’s not what this character would do or say.” In fact, the only time when a joke falls short in the show is when the wrong character says what is already a funny line that’s just misplaced.

And seeing as how we’re already talking about the cast, now might be a great time to mention that Camp Camp has the best group of characters Rooster Teeth made since the first thirteen seasons of Red vs. Blue. Like I said with Rick and Morty, I prefer to have a series with a moderately large cast of characters, as it offers writers enough room to work with so the series doesn’t become stale. And boy, does this show have a lot to work with. Everybody starts off with a personality that’s simple and serves the purpose of making a joke. But as the Camp Camp goes on, the more that these personalities grow and the audience gets to learn more about them. Even characters who seem like they’re only useful for the same comedic bit eventually become more complex as the series progresses. The best example is Dolph, who starts off as a source for Hitler jokes. But in the episode “The Candy Kingpin," we see that he’s also a little kid who’s just lonely and naive...while also still being the source of Hilter jokes. Now, at a glance, it might seem like there are too many characters, and it can certainly feel like it at times. Luckily the writers are smart enough to know which characters need more focus and which ones can be used for comedy. For instance, Space Kid doesn’t seem that complex in the slightest, but he’s a source for comedy, so he doesn’t need to be. Besides, the writers can develop any characters it wants whenever they want to. Because if Max and David are of any indication, this show has the best character development in any Rooster Teeth series.

I’m not kidding when I say that the relationship between Max and David is the best thing about the series. They start off with a simple dynamic: David is the happy go lucky optimist who gets in the way of Max’s pessimistic schemes. There’s nothing too noteworthy at first, and the majority of the episodes are just Max screwing over David and David keeping Max in check. However, the showrunners found a way to make their relationship more intriguing with each season. (Kinda spoilers ahead) Not only does Max learn that David understands how rough life can be, but, realizes why David has the determination to stay optimistic in the first place. And once David learns why Max is so jaded, he begins to work with Max through a new angle. In fact, the second they’re both on even ground, the two of them stop working against each other and learn how to work with each other (kinda spoilers over). Now don’t get me wrong. David still gets on Max’s nerves and vice versa, but there’s still a small amount of respect shared between the two. This is what I loved about their dynamic: Their development isn't blatant, but it still exists. In Red vs. Blue, it feels like Tucker’s development seems to take a step backward and forwards with every other season. And in RWBY, it feels like Yang is a different character after experiencing a traumatic event. This is understandable given what happened to her. But seeing how her having a sense of humor, which is everything likable about her personality, left after this one moment, it can be a bit disappointing (especially since Yang seemed like a person who hid her trauma through comedy). As for Max and David, everything that is likable about their personalities is still there, only now seen through a different light. This may not seem that impressive, but considering how Rooster Teeth has handled character development in the past, it’s pretty great.

Here’s another thing that may not seem as impressive as it really is: The show’s animation. I am amazed at how this series manages to have a television-quality of effort. Now, that may not sound like a compliment, but considering that this is a web series, it’s pretty darn impressive. Most online animated shows barely stick to a weekly schedule and the ones that do only manage to have episodes lasting for 3-5 minutes. So, seeing as how Camp Camp can have 12-24 minute long episodes once a week AND still managing to look good is a testament to how far internet animation has come. There’s also a surprisingly large amount of detail added into the show. I’m not talking about the characters themselves, as they have pretty simple designs. What I am talking about are the little things that the animators added in. If you pay attention to the props, backgrounds, and even things they wrote in, you’ll notice a whole lot of things that would have flown over your head otherwise, such as great jokes, continuity nods, and even sublime foreshadowing when it comes to season three.

So as you can tell, there’s a lot to like about this series. So you’re wondering why it’s only #5. Well, my reasons are more pitiful if I’m being honest. You see, Camp Camp is aimed at adults, but it doesn’t feel like that at times. Like I said with my Final Space review, most writers think that for a series to be considered for adults, you have to use sex, drugs, violence, and cursing. Now, in all fairness, those aren’t really meant for kids. And understandably so. However, if you take all of that stuff out, then what’s stopping this show from becoming kid-friendly? Not a whole lot, especially since there’s a handful of episodes that have plots I’ve seen in other kids' shows (“Jermey Fartz,” “Eggs Benefits,” and “Night of the Living Ill,” to name a few). Personally, I believe that for a show to be for adults, it requires two things. One is to have writing that may seem boring to kids but interesting for adults. It's also important to have stories/plots that kids are not ready to fully understand yet. If you fail to do both, then there’s nothing stopping a twelve-year-old from watching your show and enjoying it just the same. And I should know because I was twelve when I started watching Rooster Teeth’s content in the first place.

Also (and this next complaint is less pitiful and more problematic), it's not good with how whitewashed the voice cast is. I get it. A voice is a voice, and the color of the actor's skin shouldn't matter...except that it does. Because if you're going to go the route of having a diverse cast of characters, then you might as well go all the way by having their voice actors be people of color as well. And don't get me wrong, these actors do a perfect job for their respective roles, both for the dramatic and comedic moments. But, as this series started coming out in 2016, long before current events, it still bothered me that a character like Nerris--

--was voiced by a woman like Barbara Dunkleman:

Yeah...That’s a big yikes.

So while it may not exactly be the best example of an adult series and definitely needs some recasting, Camp Camp is still one of the best shows in the 2010s. It has impressive animation for an online series, has hilarious comedy, and even better characters to enjoy. And seeing as how this is only #5, that can only mean that the shows can only get better from here.

(Side note, is it bad that two seasons of this show made me connect to the characters much better than the first six seasons of RWBY? Because I certainly think so.)

[hyukiee]

Chapter 1: Destiny

warnings: cussing, drug use, mental illness (future fluff, smut, angst, etc.)

this is my first story i’m writing on tumblr, I hope y’all like it. I’ll probably update once or twice a week. I plan on this not so lovely love story to be pretty long.. and angsty. Enjoy :)

Dreams are one of the most unknown things we experience, yet no one questions our lack of knowledge about them when we lay in bed at night. Not everybody dreams. Some people only dream when their happy... or sad... or scared... or it just happens every blue moon for no reason at all. You dream every day, to the point where you feel a little depressed if you don’t have one. They never take you to wonderland, their never right, something is always off but you liked them anyways. They gave you an escape from reality, until reality started showing up in your dreams. The reality that you’re slowly killing yourself when really this was supposed to be the peak of your existence. The reality that you literally gave the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, the ugliest look in downtown Hollywood and the reality that you know you will ruin his life or get close to it.

‘That stupid fucking asshole, I can’t believe that no good piece of shit left me to fend for myself. It’s so fucking hot. Fuck off Karen, my face is easier to look at than that awful sweater. Fuck. I need to sit down.’ You stopped walking and you look at yourself through the reflection of some enterance to a cafe, it smells like. Jesus christ, those eye bags look like black eyes. You went to your closest friends party the other night, you didn’t want to go so that explains the oversized grey hoodie and grey sweats that... have dirt on them? How the fuck- you know what, you’ve seen worse. You can’t go inside the cafe looking like this though. The shady floor will do for now. Everyone is wearing work clothes so you must of slept through all of Sunday. Alone. Because your dick head of a friend abandoned you, god knows when but for someone that slept through an entire day, you’re tired. Maybe it’s just the mental exhaustion you live with but god you could use a nap. “E-eguse me ehm here you go,” you look up and see the most perfectly built man you have ever seen, holding a.. $10 bill? You unknowingly glare at him after noticing his arm holding out the money to you. He looked nervous, and foreign as fuck what accent is that? “I’m not homeless, fuck off.” Who the fuck is he to assume your homeless? Cant someone sit in piece for a little? Prick. You stood up, hitting his shoulder as you walked away, not ever looking back at his beautiful face.

Wake up, go to the beach, take a xans, go to work, go home, sleep, wake up, eat, sleep, and wake up to repeat the process. You always hated living by a constant schedule, but at this point you do anything you can to hurt yourself. The weekends are different though, its always spontaneous. Will you snort a line with the crackheads down the street or will you go to a party because you know the college kids adore their new interest in drugs? You really don’t need drugs. You’re fine. Depression put you in this place and god you feel like a coward. People go through so much more and stay away from drugs. Coward. Your thoughts consist of things like this often, even when your supposed to be hearing your idiot friends excuse for abandoning you last week. “Y/n, seriously, I could of sworn you were dead.” “Wow, thanks Julian, i’ll make sure to leave your lifeless body instead of calling 911 like a sane person when I get the chance.” You both rolled your eyes in sync. You loved Julian, he’s such a dumbass but despite saying he’s your closest friend, your hardly friends. You met before you dropped out of college, he was your dealer, one of the nicest ones you’ve met. You ran into him often and bought from him often as well so you would talk but the reality is he only stays because you’re his best costumer and you frankly don’t care because you are too lost to even care about someone else.

“Y/n, I think you should lay back on your habits a little bit,” Julian broke the silence you both had on the pier. You both liked to meet up at the pier and smoke a little. “Oh please, don’t act like you care. Drop the act and be a fake friend to me, please,” you spoke unemotionally, making eye contact with him. “I’ve never met someone asking for a fake friend.” “Real ones require you to love and deal with them. I can’t do that for you Julian but I know that’s not what you wanted anyways. I practically pay your rent, just thank me and change the topic.” He sighed. Not a disappointed one, a relived one. Julian has been a dealer for a very long time, he stopped caring about his costumers decisions. He didn’t truly care for your health, it was the sad truth. He did get worried that night at his party but only because he isn’t heartless. You knew that though, you seemed so lifeless and incapable of feeling anything to him. He wondered about your story at times but he knew somehow he would never get it. You’re easy to talk to though, it’s nice. “Thank you.”

Ever since you were little you wanted to live in a big city like L.A. Although, you imagined you would be going to UCLA and going to study on a beach just because you could. Standing next to Julian in line at Coachella, you just now take in how completely different your life turned out but at least you did end up here. Julian gets into Coachella for free every single year so your always his +1. You love gatherings like this but this one is just a little too Pg for you. You always end up spending most of your time at the food trucks. But according to Julian, ‘so many people would kill to be around this many celebrities’ so maybe you could get a drink or two in and mingle or whatever. It won’t kill you. So here you are, waiting to get a margarita because god knows you can’t be any type of social while sober. “I guess you weren’t homeless after all, my apologies,” you turn around and see the beautifully built man leaning down towards you. You could run. You’re not to far from the exit and it would be impossible to run into this guy for a third time... right? “Are you following me?” That was supposed to stay in your thoughts.. Is he though? How the hell do you see each other in two different cities? Sure, everyone knows about Coachella but how does he recognize you, you look good today, not homeless or drugged up, whichever works. “Ah, sorry, my english bad,” He stood up straight rubbing his hand on the back of his neck nervously. Right. Foreigner with a unknown accent. “What language do you speak?” It’s not like you’re going to understand his language but your curiosity is getting the best- “Korean.” You know it really isn’t too late to run. This man could be lying, trying to kidnap you and sex traffic you. What are the chances he just happens to speak the one other language you do as well. He could be faking this for all you know. “Hello,” You haven’t spoken in Korean since high school. You dont know why you even let that out. “You speak Korean? Wow, hello!” He bowed to you slightly with a box like smile on his face. That’s cute. It’s different. “I really am sorry for mistaking you the other day, do you mind me asking what happened?” “I was on a lot of drugs at a party and my friend abandoned me because he thought I overdosed.” You learned a long time ago to leave your addiction to yourself. People look at you differently when you do drugs, even your closest friends. That’s one of the first lessons you learn as a drug addict, keep it to yourself. The only people that know you do drugs are the ones that do them too. You could of lied to him, but the self destructive part of you couldn’t help but push this stranger away. You turned around to look at him after it got awkwardly silent. “What? You surprised? Scared? No harsh feelings, I don’t even know you.” You held in a laugh from his shocked and awkward expression. “Your right, we don’t know each other, I’m Taehyung,” He held out his hand replacing his taken aback expression back to his box-y smile, pretending what you said just never happened. ”Y/n,” You sighed. He won’t give up whatever this is. Fantastic. “Well actually, i’m supposed to be talking with famous people or something like that so I should get going,” You didn’t know how to get out of this situation. You felt like you couldn’t breathe with him standing so close to you. This conversation gets more and more awkward everytime you speak. “Then why are you leaving?” You both stared at each other, surprisingly not awkwardly. It was comforting looking into his eyes. “What? “You know what, I actually should go before i’m late, i’ll see you later,” he gave you one last smile and patted your shoulder before leaving you. “But- Why? What?”

“I just had the most uncomfortable conversation of my life with this insanely perfect looking man,” you spoke almost out of breath, finally finding Julian in the crowd. “Yeah, i’m pretty sure I saw who you’re talking about when I left you,” Julian is such an old soul. He responded while looking ahead at the stage, almonds in one hand like a football dad. “Who’s performing next” “Uh, BTS.” You hardly listen to music these days. Music that doesn’t fit your ‘fuck life, love drugs’ aesthetic. BTS doesn’t ring a bell so you probably won’t like it but it’s not like you have anything else to do, you’ve had enough with weird interactions. “Remind me why we’re sober,” you sighed, starting to feel the pain from standing for so long. “I’m sober, you’re drunk.” Julian glanced at the margarita in your hand. Right, you almost forgot. “Oh, don’t judge-“ “Sh sh sh their coming.” He hit your shoulder a couple of time looking at the stage like a child. You hate when people tap on you it’s so annoying. You sighed for the one thousandth time and focused on the group of people coming to the stage. Asians, how convenient. You know if life really hated you they would be Korean just like- “Ey, isn’t that the ‘insanely perfect looking man’ you were talking about? I can’t tell.” You have got to be kidding. That’s why he asked why you were leaving. He’s fucking famous. “I need another drink,” You sighed.

[maddiethebull]

hi! are your requests still open? if yes, could you please, pleaseeee write prompt #17 for lucien? i've read the gavin one and it was so precious!!! i hope you will have a wonderful day ahead of you!! ✨💋

My requests are still open! Just eternally because I barely have a life! Thank you for complimenting my Gavin fanfic!! You’re so sweet! Thank you for making a request

Lucien (MLQC) - Prompt #17 - “You know what? Shut up. Kiss me.”

It had been a hard day at the office. Victor had been on your ass about all of the work that you needed to get done, it was majorly frustrating today, especially, because you were supposed to attend the lecture Lucien was giving that evening, but all you could think of was work work work. 

On the way from LFG to Loveland University, you were so distracted, thinking about how you could possibly get that report done in two days or less, that you nearly walked into traffic. ‘Just calm down, MC, no time to think about work right now. You get to see Lucien today.’ With that thought, you smiled, Lucien had always made you feel so comfortable and he never stressed you out like Victor and Gavin, and he was much more calm than Kiro. ‘Lucien is like the perfect porridge, no that’s weird’ you thought, ‘Lucien is like a good middle ground? Ugh whatever, Lucien’s nice to be around and I like him. That’s all that matters.’

You entered the large building, it was so full of students. It even brought back old memories of when you attended the same University you were in now. 

If only Lucien was a professor then! Talk about eye candy, am I right? Walking up and down the halls and stopping to look at a couple maps, you searched for the room Lucien was to be presenting in. 

When you finally found it and entered, you sat down in the crowded room with the students around you wondering who this new face was. There had been rumors that Lucien was seen going on dates with a certain person, a person who was described to look a lot like you. You were in the dark about the rumors, you didn’t hang around the Uni a lot and you didn’t talk to any of the students, really, so when you heard, 

“Is that who the Professor’s dating?” from behind you, you shrunk into your seat.

‘He’s dating someone?’ you thought. It made you feel even worse thinking about Lucien going on dates with someone, the guy you liked, liking someone else. But, you were his friend, so you couldn’t very well leave the lecture you promised to attend. The lights dimmed and he began, showing some fancy charts that you couldn’t understand that well and in about five minutes you were lost. Your thoughts once again ran around in your brain, and now adding on was the fact that Lucien was dating someone. You began nodding off in search for solace, you just needed some peace and quiet for a couple minutes. You were carried away while Lucien’s soft, deep voice echoed through the room. 

About an hour later, 

“MC?” Lucien was standing over you, everybody had already left the lecture room. You were fully asleep as Lucien nudged your shoulder, asking jokingly what you thought of his presentation. Once you awoke, you jolted up. You saw that the lecture hall was now empty and began furiously apologizing,

“I-I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I slept through it. Was it good? Of course it was good, that was a stupid question.”

Lucien only chuckled at you. How could you be so adorable? He never really cared when you wouldn’t grasp what he was talking about, it only mattered to him that you would show up. He spoke, 

“Why don’t we have a cup of tea at my place and I can fill you in on the details,” A sly smile crept up along with a mischievous tone, “a private lecture of sorts.” 

After a moment of thought, you gave in. You’d had a hard day, might as well go with him and see what would happen, even if nothing happened, you were still content with staring at him while listening to his smooth voice ramble on about whatever smart thing he had up his sleeve. He took your hand to help you up and the two of you began walking to his place.  

On the way, you stopped to get a snack, and Lucien asked you, 

“So, why is a certain little MC so sleepy today?”

You sighed, “It’s just work, I have so much to do, but I have almost no time to do it and I’m afraid of being told that my work isn’t good enough. I work so hard on all of the things I do, but they never seem to be up to Big Mr. Victor’s standards.”

He replied, “Don’t even get me started on Victor. He has, what we scientifically classify as, a stick up his ass.”

You almost choked on your food, you were laughing so hard. It felt so good to finally laugh that day, and while you knew Victor wasn’t actually as mean as he seemed, it was nice for someone to agree with you. Still laden with laughter, you glanced at Lucien. He was certainly the most interesting person you’d ever met. He was staring at you, a habit of his, and the way his dark eyes focused so intently on you, it made you feel special. Lucien as a whole made you feel special. You wanted to drink up his presence and never let him go. The way he could be so professional yet have such a lively sense of humor was just one of the traits you absolutely loved about him. But, with this news about him dating someone… it outright sucked. ‘Why can’t I be the one he’s dating?’ you thought. You were too shy to ask him about who it was his student’s said he was dating, not even really wanting to know the answer, you just pushed it to the back of your mind. 

“You almost finished eating?” he asked, with his eyes still only on you. He had a hint of a smile grazing his features. Every time he saw you, he felt the need to know more about you. He wanted to be able to ace a test on you, you were just so intriguing. You were so different from the people he’d come into contact with, you were like a flood of bright light on his otherwise dark world. He looked down at the table, letting out a sigh. He was conflicted about how he felt for you, he felt like he couldn’t just outright tell you, he likened it to running black paint over the Mona Lisa. The last thing he wanted was for you to change, for you to become like him, because he knew the extent of things he could never tell you. He knew that he was closer to a devil than an angel, and to him, you were the exact opposite. He never wanted to lose that bright light you gave him. 

“Yeah, I’m done now,” you said with a cheery expression. When Lucien was deep in thought, you always seemed to bring back his fading smiles. The two of you went on your way to his house, and by accident, you approached your own door. It dawned on you that you’d never actually been inside of his apartment before and by habit, you simply went your own way. ‘Today is different now’, you thought as you put your keys back into your pocket. 

He opened the door for you and took your jacket. The air of the room was sort of awkward, Lucien was excited to have you over for the first time, while you were thinking of how whoever he’s dating has probably been in his house a billion times. Distracting yourself, you looked at all of the paintings on his walls, and a certain one caught your eye. It was a man under the night sky, reaching up to the stars where an ethereal being reached down to the man. Their hands would never touch because of the distance between them, but they kept reaching for each other. 

“Who painted this?” you asked as you made your way to get a closer look.

“Oh, I did,” he replied casually, “I’m not the world’s best artist, but painting relaxes me.”

“You’re kidding! You painted this?” You eyed him and then the painting, “this is amazing, I couldn’t dream of doing this, don’t be so humble,” you chuckled out. 

Lucien approached you, he thought it fitting that you stood next to a painting inspired by you. ‘By far’, he wished he could say, ‘you’re more beautiful than anything I could ever make.’ He lifted his arm to put around you, but stopped himself. Pulling his arm back to his side, he gave a polite thank you and went to the kitchen to make some tea for the two of you.  

The both of you sat down and had a casual conversation, somehow making its way back to his presentation that you completely missed. You were in the middle of apologizing for the umpteenth time when Lucien’s suddenly found his mind cluttered with a billion things he wanted to say. The need to tell you his feelings, the need to kiss you, it ached deep in his heart and this never ending confliction, he thought, needs to come to an end. You were right there, and he knew that he loved you. He simply threw caution to the wind. 

You were still talking, saying, “I really do need to have a better sleep schedule, and I promise I won’t fall asleep in your lectures anymore. I know I’ve done it a couple times, but-”

An impish smirk grew on his lips, he stared at you intently, capturing your attention, and said, “You know what? It doesn’t matter if you never listen to any of my lectures, so shut up, only these moments matter to me. Kiss me.” He delivered it so smoothly that you felt like you were melting in your chair. 

You were taken aback, and certainly did shut up. You were blushing like mad, fumbling your hair and stuttering like crazy. 

“L-Lucien,” you said. That was all you could get out before he got closer to you, much closer. His face was only inches away from yours. You could feel his warm breath as he spoke with that smooth, deep voice, saying,

“Please, won’t you?” Those dark eyes flitting from your gaze to your lips and back. 

“But what about your, you know, your significant other…”

Pure confusion. Lucien looked like the meme with that lady surrounded by floating maths. 

“M-my what?” He began laughing, he had no clue what you were on about. He hoped that this was the only reason you seemed hesitant to kiss him.

“Your student’s were talking about you dating someone and I-”

“MC, they think I’m dating you,” 

Lucien’s laugh was bellowing through the room, while you, on the other hand, were wishing you could climb under a rock. Everything clicked in your head, the reason why you had no idea who he was dating, was because he wasn’t actually dating anyone. You were so embarrassed, but ultimately relieved.   

He stroked your cheek, moving himself closer to you as the laughs faded away. MC.exe stopped working. You froze while in your head you were screaming ‘Yes Please Sir!’ Unconsciously you were also moving closer. The fading sun trickled through the window shades, surrounding the two of you in flakes of golden light. Lucien took hold of your jaw. In his eyes you could see so many emotions, he was so complex, like a puzzle you couldn’t figure out. In this tender moment, you thought you saw regret in his eyes, regret and sorrow mixed together with passion and love, an intriguing cocktail of emotion. You knew that you might never get to know him fully, but this was good enough for you. In an opposite fashion of his brazenly asking you to kiss him, he cautiously moved forward, bridging the gap between your lips. Gently, he kissed you, he moved so softly, seemingly afraid of damaging you, damaging this moment. His mind was a hurricane of thoughts, but when you were there with him, it was silent. You gave him serenity. You gave him happiness. You gave him so many things that he was terrified to let go of. 

The two of you moved together, only breaking contact to take a breath. When you had finally separated, he pulled you into him. His slender arms holding you to his chest. You could hear his heart beating like a drum. ‘This moment should never end’ you thought, and, just for one night, neither of you would let it. The rest of the night carried on with you in his arms, both of you intertwined, so much so that your heartbeats seemed to merge together in this bliss and newfound passion. 

—————————————————————————————————-

Hope you liked this story! I can’t say I’m super into lucien personality wise, but i cannot lie, he’s the sexiest of the boys lmao

My prompt requests are open, so feel free to leave an ask!

edit: real question, are my last few posts just like really bad? I noticed that my likes and reblogs went down tremendously, and I would like feedback about why. Don’t be afraid to give criticisms, I just want feedback. Thanks for reading and there’s more to come

[leepace71]

When Pedro Pascal was roughly 4 years old, he and his family went to see the 1978 hit movie “Superman,” starring Christopher Reeve. Pascal’s young parents had come to live in San Antonio after fleeing their native Chile during the rise of dictator Augusto Pinochet in the mid-1970s. Taking Pascal and his older sister to the movies — sometimes more than once a week — had become a kind of family ritual, a way to soak up as much American pop culture as possible.At some point during this particular visit, Pascal needed to go to the bathroom, and his parents let him go by himself. “I didn’t really know how to read yet,” Pascal says with the same Cheshire grin that dazzled “Game of Thrones” fans during his run as the wily (and doomed) Oberyn Martel. “I did not find my way back to ‘Superman.'”

Instead, Pascal wandered into a different theater (he thinks it was showing the 1979 domestic drama “Kramer vs. Kramer,” but, again, he was 4). In his shock and bewilderment at being lost, he curled up into an open seat and fell asleep. When he woke up, the movie was over, the theater was empty, and his parents were standing over him. To his surprise, they seemed rather calm, but another detail sticks out even more.

“I know that they finished their movie,” he says, bending over in laughter. “My sister was trying to get a rise out of me by telling me, ‘This happened and that happened and then Superman did this and then, you know, the earthquake and spinning around the planet.'” In the face of such relentless sibling mockery, Pascal did the only logical thing: “I said, ‘All that happened in my movie too.'”

He had no way of knowing it at the time, of course, but some 40 years later, Pascal would in fact get the chance to star in a movie alongside a DC Comics superhero — not to mention battle Stormtroopers and, er, face off against the most formidable warrior in Westeros. After his breakout on “Game of Thrones,” he became an instant get-me-that-guy sensation, mostly as headstrong, taciturn men of action — from chasing drug traffickers in Colombia for three seasons on Netflix’s “Narcos” to squaring off against Denzel Washington in “The Equalizer 2.”

This year, though, Pascal finds himself poised for the kind of marquee career he’s spent a lifetime dreaming about. On Oct. 30, he’ll return for Season 2 as the title star of “The Mandalorian,” Lucasfilm’s light-speed hit “Star Wars” series for Disney Plus that earned 15 Emmy nominations, including best drama, in its first season. And then on Dec. 25 — COVID-19 depending — he’ll play the slippery comic book villain Maxwell Lord opposite Gal Gadot, Chris Pine and Kristen Wiig in “Wonder Woman 1984.”

The roles are at once wildly divergent and the best showcase yet for Pascal’s elastic talents. In “The Mandalorian,” he must hide his face — and, in some episodes, his whole body — in a performance that pushes minimalism and restraint to an almost ascetic ideal. In “Wonder Woman 1984,” by stark contrast, he is delivering the kind of big, broad bad-guy character that populated the 1980s popcorn spectaculars of his youth.

“I continually am so surprised when everybody pegs him as such a serious guy,” says “Wonder Woman 1984” director Patty Jenkins. “I have to say, Pedro is one of the most appealing people I have known. He instantly becomes someone that everybody invites over and you want to have around and you want to talk to.”

Talk with Pascal for just five minutes — even when he’s stuck in his car because he ran out of time running errands before his flight to make it to the set of a Nicolas Cage movie in Budapest — and you get an immediate sense of what Jenkins is talking about. Before our interview really starts, Pascal points out, via Zoom, that my dog is licking his nether regions in the background. “Don’t stop him!” he says with an almost naughty reproach. “Let him live his life!”

Over our three such conversations, it’s also clear that Pascal’s great good humor and charm have been at once ballast for a number of striking hardships, and a bulwark that makes his hard-won success a challenge for him to fully accept.

Before Pascal knew anything about “The Mandalorian,” its showrunner and executive producer Jon Favreau knew he wanted Pascal to star in it.

“He feels very much like a classic movie star in his charm and his delivery,” says Favreau. “And he’s somebody who takes his craft very seriously.” Favreau felt Pascal had the presence and skill essential to deliver a character — named Din Djarin, but mostly called Mando — who spends virtually every second of his time on screen wearing a helmet, part of the sacrosanct creed of the Mandalorian order.

Convincing any actor to hide their face for the run of a series can be as precarious as escaping a Sarlacc pit. To win Pascal over in their initial meeting, Favreau brought him behind the “Mandalorian” curtain, into a conference room papered with storyboards covering the arc of the first season. “When he walked in, it must have felt a little surreal,” Favreau says. “You know, most of your experiences as an actor, people are kicking the tires to see if it’s a good fit. But in this case, everything was locked and loaded.”

Needless to say, it worked. “I hope this doesn’t sound like me fashioning myself like I’m, you know, so smart, but I agreed to do this [show] because the impression I had when I had my first meeting was that this is the next big s—,” Pascal says with a laugh.

Favreau’s determination to cast Pascal, however, put the actor in a tricky situation: Pascal’s own commitments to make “Wonder Woman 1984” in London and to perform in a Broadway run of “King Lear” with Glenda Jackson barreled right into the production schedule for “The Mandalorian.” Some scenes on the show, and in at least one case a full episode, would need to lean on the anonymity of the title character more than anyone had quite planned, with two stunt performers — Brendan Wayne and Lateef Crowder — playing Mando on set and Pascal dubbing in the dialogue months later.

Pascal was already being asked to smother one of his best tools as an actor, extraordinarily uncommon for anyone shouldering the newest iteration of a global live-action franchise. (Imagine Robert Downey Jr. only playing Iron Man while wearing a mask — you can’t!) Now he had to hand over control of Mando’s body to other performers too. Some actors would have walked away. Pascal didn’t.

“If there were more than just a couple of pages of a one-on-one scene, I did feel uneasy about not, in some instances, being able to totally author that,” he says. “But it was so easy in such a sort of practical and unexciting way for it to be up to them. When you’re dealing with a franchise as large as this, you are such a passenger to however they’re going to carve it out. It’s just so specific. It’s ‘Star Wars.'” (For Season 2, Pascal says he was on the set far more, though he still sat out many of Mando’s stunts.)

“The Mandalorian” was indeed the next big s—, helping to catapult the launch of Disney Plus to 26.5 million subscribers in its first six weeks. With the “Star Wars” movies frozen in carbonite until 2023 (at least), I noted offhand that he’s now effectively the face of one of the biggest pop-culture franchises in the world. Pascal could barely suppress rolling his eyes.

“I mean, come on, there isn’t a face!” he says with a laugh that feels maybe a little forced. “If you want to say, ‘You’re the silhouette’ — which is also a team effort — then, yeah.” He pauses. “Can we just cut the s— and talk about the Child?”

Yes, of course, the Child — or, as the rest of the galaxy calls it, Baby Yoda. Pascal first saw the incandescently cute creature during his download of “Mandalorian” storyboards in that initial meeting with Favreau. “Literally, my eyes following left to right, up and down, and, boom, Baby Yoda close to the end of the first episode,” he says. “That was when I was like, ‘Oh, yep, that’s a winner!'”

Baby Yoda is undeniably the breakout star of “The Mandalorian,” inspiring infinite memes and apocryphal basketball game sightings. But the show wouldn’t work if audiences weren’t invested in Mando’s evolving emotional connection to the wee scene stealer, something Favreau says Pascal understood from the jump. “He’s tracking the arc of that relationship,” says the showrunner. “His insight has made us rethink moments over the course of the show.” (As with all things “Star Wars,” questions about specifics are deflected in deference to the all-powerful Galactic Order of Spoilers.)

Even if Pascal couldn’t always be inside Mando’s body, he never left the character’s head, always aware of how this orphaned bounty hunter who caroms from planet to planet would look askance at anything that felt too good (or too adorable) to be true.

“The transience is something that I’m incredibly familiar with, you know?” Pascal says. “Understanding the opportunity for complexity under all of the armor was not hard for me.”

When Pascal was 4 months old, his parents had to leave him and his sister with their aunt, so they could go into hiding to avoid capture during Pinochet’s crackdown against his opposition. After six months, they finally managed to climb the walls of the Venezuelan embassy during a shift change and claim asylum; from there, the family relocated, first to Denmark, then to San Antonio, where Pascal’s father got a job as a physician.

Pascal was too young to remember any of this, and for a healthy stretch of his childhood, his complicated Chilean heritage sat in parallel to his life in the U.S. — separate tracks, equally important, never quite intersecting. By the time Pascal was 8, his family was able to take regular trips back to Chile to visit with his 34 first cousins. But he doesn’t remember really talking about any of his time there all that much with his American friends.

“I remember at one point not even realizing that my parents had accents until a friend was like, ‘Why does your mom talk like that?'” Pascal says. “And I remember thinking, like what?”

Besides, he loved his life in San Antonio. His father took him and his sister to Spurs basketball games during the week if their homework was done. He hoodwinked his mother into letting him see “Poltergeist” at the local multiplex. He watched just about anything on cable; the HBO special of Whoopi Goldberg’s one-woman Broadway show knocked him flat. He remembers seeing Henry Thomas in “E.T.” and Christian Bale in “Empire of the Sun” and wishing ardently, urgently, I want to live those stories too.

Then his father got a job in Orange County, Calif. After Pascal finished the fifth grade, they moved there. It was a shock. “There were two really, really rough years,” he says. “A lot of bullying.”

His mother found him a nascent performing arts high school in the area, and Pascal burrowed even further into his obsessions, devouring any play or movie he could get his hands on. His senior year, a friend of his mother’s gave Pascal her ticket to a long two-part play running in downtown Los Angeles that her bad back couldn’t withstand. He got out of school early to drive there by himself. It was the pre-Broadway run of “Angels in America.”

“And it changed me,” he says with almost religious awe. “It changed me.”

After studying acting at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts, Pascal booked a succession of solid gigs, like MTV’s “Undressed” and “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” But the sudden death of his mother — who’d only just been permitted to move back to Chile a few years earlier — took the wind right from Pascal’s sails. He lost his agent, and his career stalled almost completely.

As a tribute to her, he decided to change his professional last name from Balmaceda, his father’s, to Pascal, his mother’s. “And also, because Americans had such a hard time pronouncing Balmaceda,” he says. “It was exhausting.”

Pascal even tried swapping out Pedro for Alexander (an homage to Ingmar Bergman’s “Fanny and Alexander,” one of the formative films of his youth). “I was willing to do absolutely anything to work more,” he says. “And that meant if people felt confused by who they were looking at in the casting room because his first name was Pedro, then I’ll change that. It didn’t work.”

It was a desperately lean time for Pascal. He booked an occasional “Law & Order” episode, but mostly he was pounding the pavement along with his other New York theater friends — like Oscar Isaac, who met Pascal doing an Off Broadway play. They became fast, lifelong friends, bonding over their shared passions and frustrations as actors.

“It’s gotten better, but at that point, it was so easy to be pigeonholed in very specific roles because we’re Latinos,” says Isaac. “It’s like, how many gang member roles am I going to be sent?” As with so many actors, the dream Pascal and Isaac shared to live the stories of their childhoods had been stripped down to its most basic utility. “The dream was to be able to pay rent,” says Isaac. “There wasn’t a strategy. We were just struggling. It was talking about how to do this thing that we both love but seems kind of insurmountable.”

As with so few actors, that dream was finally rekindled through sheer nerve and the luck of who you know, when another lifelong friend, actor Sarah Paulson, agreed to pass along Pascal’s audition for Oberyn Martell to her best friend Amanda Peet, who is married to “Game of Thrones” co-showrunner David Benioff.

“First of all, it was an iPhone selfie audition, which was unusual,” Benioff remembers over email. “And this wasn’t one of the new-fangled iPhones with the fancy cameras. It looked like s—; it was shot vertical; the whole thing was very amateurish. Except for the performance, which was intense and believable and just right.”

Before Pascal knew it, he found himself in Belfast, sitting inside the Great Hall of the Red Keep as one of the judges at Tyrion Lannister’s trial for the murder of King Joffrey. “I was between Charles Dance and Lena Headey, with a view of the entire f—ing set,” Pascal says, his eyes wide and astonished still at the memory. “I couldn’t believe I didn’t have an uncomfortable costume on. You know, I got to sit — and with this view.” He sighs. “It strangely aligned itself with the kind of thinking I was developing as a child that, at that point, I was convinced was not happening.”

And then it all started to happen.

In early 2018, while Pascal was in Hawaii preparing to make the Netflix thriller “Triple Frontier” — opposite his old friend Isaac — he got a call from the film’s producer Charles Roven, who told him Patty Jenkins wanted to meet with him in London to discuss a role in another film Roven was producing, “Wonder Woman 1984.”

“It was a f—ing offer,” Pascal says in an incredulous whisper. “I wasn’t really grasping that Patty wanted to talk to me about a part that I was going to play, not a part that I needed to get. I wasn’t able to totally accept that.”

Pascal had actually shot a TV pilot with Jenkins that wasn’t picked up, made right before his life-changing run on “Game of Thrones” aired. “I got to work with Patty for three days or something and then thought I’d never see her again,” he says. “I didn’t even know she remembered me from that.”

She did. “I worked with him, so I knew him,” she says. “I didn’t need him to prove anything for me. I just loved the idea of him, and I thought he would be kind of unexpected, because he doesn’t scream ‘villain.'”

In Jenkins’ vision, Max Lord — a longstanding DC Comics rogue who shares a particularly tangled history with Wonder Woman — is a slick, self-styled tycoon with a knack for manipulation and an undercurrent of genuine pathos. It was the kind of larger-than-life character Pascal had never been asked to tackle before, so he did something equally unorthodox: He transformed his script into a kind of pop-art scrapbook, filled with blown-up photocopies of Max Lord from the comic books that Pascal then manipulated through his lens on the character.

Even the few pages Pascal flashes to me over Zoom are quite revealing. One, featuring Max sporting a power suit and a smarmy grin, has several burned-out holes, including through the character’s eye. Another page features Max surrounded by text bubbles into which Pascal has written, over and over and over again in itty-bitty lettering, “You are a f—ing piece of s—.”

“I felt like I had wake myself up again in a big way,” he says. “This was just a practical way of, like, instead of going home tired and putting Netflix on, [I would] actually deal with this physical thing, doodle and think about it and run it.”

Jenkins is so bullish on Pascal’s performance that she thinks it could explode his career in the same way her 2003 film “Monster” forever changed how the industry saw Charlize Theron. “I would never cast him as just the stoic, quiet guy,” Jenkins says. “I almost think he’s unrecognizable from ‘Narcos’ to ‘Wonder Woman.’ Wouldn’t even know that was the same guy. But I think that may change.”

When people can see “Wonder Woman 1984” remains caught in the chaos the pandemic has wreaked on the industry; both Pascal and Jenkins are hopeful the Dec. 25 release date will stick, but neither is terribly sure it will. Perhaps it’s because of that uncertainty, perhaps it’s because he’s spent his life on the outside of a dream he’s now suddenly living, but Pascal does not share Jenkins’ optimism that his experience making “Wonder Woman 1984” will open doors to more opportunities like it.

“It will never happen again,” Pascal says, once more in that incredulous whisper. “It felt so special.”

After all he’s done in a few short years, why wouldn’t Pascal think more roles like this are on his horizon?

“I don’t know!” he finally says with a playful — and pointed — howl. “I’m protecting myself psychologically! It’s just all too good to be true! How dare I!”

x

[foxtophat]

hey i said i was gonna get this up today!!!!

so with this chapter's conclusion i can safely say that i've officially written everything that i set out to write with mercy!  this chapter was literally a skeleton that shaped eighty percent of the entire story, so i'm glad i could finally flesh it out and put it out there!!

there's still one more chapter to go, which will be more or less an epilogue for the main story. after that, i think i'll try to get a couple of other fandom fics going (ones that are ACTUALLY nearly done, not half-ass done like mercy was when i decided to start posting lmao) and then i can set up a schedule to write some more for this universe

anyway, for now i just want you to read and enjoy.  this chapter is all about john's ptsd, and it made me sad, so i hope it makes you sad too heheh

as usual, any likes, comments, reblogs, kudos, casual mentions in meatspace or idle daydreaming about different ways this chapter could go are ALL super welcome and adored. i love you guys, you've been so kind to me <3 i hope you enjoy this chapter!!!

the usual: below the cut is the full chapter text if you don't wanna go to ao3, but you should, ao3 is way easier to read on

Things around the Rye homestead have been pretty good as of late. Eight, nine months ago, Nick never would have expected to see the living room floor again, much less finish even half of the tedious repair work that he's managed to check off his list. The planters are already sprouting with what's going to be an early summer harvest, Carmina's hen-house is ready to go, and they've already bartered off some scrap for moonshine and extra ammunition for Carmina's blooming sharpshooter hobby. The house itself only creaks and groans in heavy winds, and a few additional supports outside have secured the second floor from crashing down in the middle of the night. For an old, blown-out house that's been through nuclear winter, the place is coming back together pretty well. Hell, another couple of years and they might be able to reconnect the septic system, and then they'd really be cooking.

Other people have noticed their good luck, too. Mostly friends, like Grace and Jerome, but the word's spread a bit now about the Rye's generosity, and they've gotten a few good trades out of it, although a lot of them are I-O-U's that maybe won't come to fruition. That's fine by Nick — they don't need the old fencing or the scrap plywood, and there are still two mostly-buried garages out back that could be broken down for some really prime salvage. If people want to give him free use of their future smokehouses or promise to help him find more gas for his truck, then that's more than enough payment. Anyway, that's what Nick tells people when they don't have anything to offer — it isn't like he's going to turn somebody away when they need help.

Of course, not all of their generosity is appreciated equally. John being around doesn't sit well with many of the people who come by, although it's never enough to deter them from doing business with Kim or Nick. There aren't many confrontations, even when John helps Nick load wood into a truck or remains lingering in plain view, although somebody usually has something to say about it. Unless they get really vulgar or violent, Nick usually lets them blow off steam in his and John's direction, and he doesn't take it personally when somebody takes a cheap shot at him for being such a soft-hearted bastard.

Their vitriol usually ends after a few minutes. Most of the time, John can handle it by himself, apologizing genuinely to each person who tries to curse him out. Nick hasn't heard the same regret twice, and even if John doesn't recognize every hateful face, he seems to remember his part in their trauma. It might not be what they want to hear, but John's serious, specific remorse usually puts the fire out of their fight. So far, there's only been two instances where Nick had to call Jerome out to mediate, and neither time resulted in anyone getting shot or knocked out. Sure, John might come out of an altercation with a couple of bruises, but that's usually it.

It stands to reason that something was bound to go wrong at some point. Nick's prepared for all sorts of catastrophes; he's got contingency plans for flooding, wild animals, and even ornery neighbors upset that he let John off so easy. There are a million little things that could go wrong out here, and Nick can only do so much to prepare for every eventuality, but he thinks he's got a pretty good handle on it.

That is, until the radio breaks. It's one thing that Nick hadn't even considered a possibility — they'd left the thing in its box until the apocalypse, and until they left the bunker, it'd barely seen any use at all. And yet, one day Nick tries to confirm a trade and the radio fails to catch anything more than static.

Cheap goddamn made-in-China crap, that's what it is, and that's what Nick tells everyone within earshot as he fiddles uselessly with the knobs. When he turns the radio around to get a look at the connectors, he ignores the stamped metal that reads "MADE IN GERMANY" in favor of hunting down the problem — but that's going to involve unscrewing the back and, well, Nick isn't exactly an electrician. He's not sure the best option here is to dig into the guts of his only radio willy-nilly like. He could go get the user's manual, but it's in a pile of boxes down in the bunker, and Nick really doesn't want to go rooting through trash for it.

Heaving a frustrated sigh that takes all the fight out of him, Nick grabs the flashlight and goes out back to let Kim know what's up. She and John are working in the garden, which used to be something John would avoid at all costs. Now, he doesn't even seem phased to be working in the dirt, barely acknowledging Nick's irritated venting about the broken radio as he pulls weeds. It's only when Nick mentions going into the bunker that he seems to take notice; he tries to be subtle about it, but Nick doesn't miss his head swiveling to stare briefly.

Of course, Nick is so used to John's cagey weirdness about bunkers that he barely notices, too busy

Kim looks sympathetic, but she doesn't sound it as she reminds him, "Nick, complaining to his ever-patient wife. "I'm just gonna grab the manual, maybe see if there were any spare parts in the box we missed. It's not like the thing gets used enough to break!" the radio is ten years old. Even expensive equipment can't last forever."

"If I don't get to sit down and give up whenever I want, then neither does the radio. It's not like we got any choice , here. If we don't have a working radio, we're going to have a bitch of a time reconnecting with everybody. And we've actually started to build something, you know?"

"At least you'll have a diagram to work with, I guess." Kim sighs. "John, have you... do you know where our bunker is?"

John smiles wryly. "I do," he replies.

"Oh, right," Nick sighs. "You probably know where everything is on the property, huh."

"Knew," John points out. "But yes, that was my job. I was as thorough as I could be." He chews his lip, standing after a thoughtful second. "I know where a lot of bunkers are. If you can't repair the radio... We could look for another one."

"Okay, of course you do." Nick waves for John to follow him, which he does, keeping pace as they head away from the wash, towards the opposite side of the hangar from their normal route. "What makes you think I wanna take a radio from somebody else ?"

"Not many of the structures put together out here were by any means safe ." John probably shouldn't sound so blase about it, but the guy's got a point. Doubly so when he continues, "I was suggesting we take one from someone who won't be needing it anymore."

Nick clicks his tongue against his teeth. "Well, it's something to think about," he agrees reluctantly. It sounds a lot like grave-robbing to him, but John's right. It's the smartest option, and somebody's going to have to do it eventually. It might be better for everyone if it's them, and not some opportunistic drifter who won't put the resources back into the community.

That's a problem for another day. Right now, Nick leads John around thick tumbleweeds that have gotten caught in the long grass, bringing them up just short of the bunker door. Covered with about two years' worth of dirt but not yet overgrown, the white hatch is only a marginal pain in the ass to pry out of the ground. John waits for Nick to ask for help, only to realize that isn't happening anytime soon, and wordlessly assists in coaxing the rusted hinges to work.

The bunker is dark and smells like a root cellar. Nick sure hopes nothing important molded. They'll have to get down here and clean up soon, before the mildew takes hold and ruins everything.

"Okay," he says, "You just wait here and make sure that thing doesn't close on me."

Nick half-expects some kind of joke about locking him inside, but John only nods obediently, standing a few feet from the opening with his arms folded across his chest. Nick rolls his eyes but does his best to ignore John's unease as he descends into the bunker.

He decides against testing the power — even if the generator down here still has some juice in it, they haven't operated anything in a while and Nick does not want to be engulfed in flames right now. Instead, he clicks on the flashlight and wanders through the narrow space. He doesn't linger on the drawings Carmina left on the wall or the unmade cots, passing by a pile of laundry that'll never get done and heading to the small utility closet in the back.

He finds the box intact, one corner suffering water damage from what looks like a cup of water that nobody ever picked up. Deciding against rooting around for anything else that might be useful, he takes the whole box back out to the ladder, chucking it up out of the hole once he's tackled the lower rungs.

John is trying hard not to show his nerves as Nick pops back up, shoving his hands into his pockets before changing his mind and folding them again over his chest. Bunkers are a tender spot for him, and Nick knows it, so for now he decides not to make a big deal about it. John's too fragile for Nick to be teasing him, even if he refuses to admit it himself.

Pulling the box apart, Nick scavenges the manual and a couple of accessories that he hadn't needed a decade ago and probably doesn't need now. The cardboard is mostly good, so Nick breaks down the box, chucking the useless packaging back into the bunker before foisting the supplies onto John.

Nick gets up and shoves the bunker door until it falls shut on its own weight. "Well, now I gotta spend the rest of my day reading that crap," he says, gesturing to the chunky owner's manual.

"Give it to Carmina," John suggests, "She's desperate for new reading material."

"And give her the chance to become more technologically savvy than me? I'll pass."

Nick spends the next few hours troubleshooting his way through the manual, vengefully ignoring the support hotline numbers plastered on every other page. Even if the service center hadn't been annihilated in a nuclear apocalypse, fat chance Nick would ever lower himself to call.

By dinnertime, Nick is frustrated but satisfied that he knows where the trouble area is. One of two pieces has given out, both designed to be replaced occasionally. On one hand, that's a good thing — it's supposed to be done by novices, which means the manual is painfully clear on the method. On the other hand, there are only going to be so many matching radios out there, and who knows how many will have the same issue?

"It'll be okay," Kim reassures him that night. "Plenty of people get by without a radio, you know."

"That doesn't mean I wanna be one of them," Nick grouses, turning to pin his hopes selfishly on John. "You said there were bunkers around, right? And maybe one of them has a radio we can use?"

"I didn't promise anything," John clarifies, "But that would be my suspicion."

"Maybe it'd be worth it to look. Who knows, we could get lucky."

Kim doesn't look sure about Nick's optimism, but he ignores her skepticism. If nothing else, it'll be good to use John's old cult knowledge to benefit them for once, and that alone puts Nick firmly in the "in favor" group. Even if it turns out to be a waste of time — well, at least they'll have tried everything. For now, Nick can let Kim think up a contingency plan for a no-radio life — Nick is going to rest all of his hopes firmly on the repair plan and hope that it works out.

Nick wakes up last the next morning, sleeping in an extra half-hour or so before finally peeling his eyelids apart to face the sun. Even as he gets dressed, he feels groggy and slow, dragged down by a long night of forgotten stress dreams. His brain probably spent all night running through every possible outcome of bunker-hunting with John — not that it does any good now, when Nick can't remember any of it.

He isn't the only one who looks like they could use more sleep. Carmina is yawning over her breakfast, eating like a sloth as she processes being awake. The bags under Kim's eyes are darker than normal, too, but she's bright-eyed and dressed for the day.

John is the only one who looks like he's coping with the morning at all, but that's probably because he's been up for a while now. Ever since he's been given free rein, John's sleep schedule has put him as the last one to sleep and the first one to wake. Nick doesn't mind too much, though, since he usually brews up some coffee right before anyone else comes down. He's been arguing with Kim for the last few mornings about going by himself to pull water from the river for the house, but Kim is holding tight to her buddy-system, and John isn't going to convince her to give it up that easily.

From the way Kim looks at Nick as he descends the stairs, they might be arguing about it already today. "What?" Nick asks, "What'd I do?"

"It's not you," Kim says. She gestures across the table at John, who looks like he's been waiting for Nick to come to his defense. "Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

"The radio is the same make as mine," John tells Nick, clearly expecting Nick to understand what he's talking about. Fat chance there, though, because Nick has no idea what he means. "It might not be the same model, but it's worth a try."

"Uh... which radio are you talking about, exactly?"

John tries hard to not look like he's suffering at the hands of fools. He fails, but at least he directs his exasperated look towards the ceiling at the last moment. "In my bunker," he explains slowly. "I had a radio of the same make."

"You said yourself it broke," Kim points out, clearly repeating an argument from before Nick's arrival.

"All the more reason to not worry about scrapping it," John replies. "The bunker is closer than any other structure, and it's guaranteed to be there. That is as much of a blessing as you'll get these days."

Nick wonders at first why Kim is so dead-set against going back to John's bunker. Sure, the guy refuses to talk about it, and sure, bunkers in general seem to fill him with unshakable anxiety, but it's still just a bunker. A bunker with a radio that could save their asses, where they won't be stealing from someone who might need it just as much. And hell, John doesn't even have to go inside!

Kim sighs and says gently, "I just don't know if it's... the greatest idea." She looks sideways at Nick, who knows from experience that she's holding back her opinion for John's benefit. She probably doesn't want to be the one telling him he's too fragile to handle it.

"I'm not asking for your permission," John says. "If neither of you want to come with me, I'll go by myself."

"Oh, come on," Kim huffs, "Not this again —"

"If I want to go somewhere, I have the right to do so," John exclaims. "We've established that I'm not a prisoner, and I certainly am not a child."

Carmina huffs loudly, but John pointedly ignores her.

"Okay, okay," Nick says, holding out his hands in a poor attempt to placate all parties. "Look, if you're really dead-set on this, and you really think that the radio's gonna help, well..." He sighs. "Then maybe it's worth going to check out."

Kim looks mildly offended that he's taking John's side, but Nick knows how to reassure her, at least a little. "But there are some ground rules," he says. "You can come with me, but I call the shots. No acting like you know better than me, or deciding to run off and forcing me to follow you. You get it?"

"Of course," John says.

"I mean it. If I decide it's not worth it when we get there, you're gonna have to respect that. I mean, there could be snakes living in there now. I don't even remember if I closed the hatch, it could be flooded from the rain earlier this year."

John nods, so quickly that Nick wonders if he's really listening. "Yes," he says. "That's fair."

"I can't believe this," Kim sighs, relenting at last as she rubs her forehead. "Okay. But you both need to be careful." She looks at John. "Especially you."

"I don't..." John cuts himself off, reluctantly changing tactics. "Okay. Fine." He stands up, leaving his chair wide open for Nick to take as he says, "I need to get ready," and excuses himself. What he needs to get ready for when he's already dressed, Nick has no idea, but that's not exactly Nick's problem. If John needs to go talk himself through the decision he forced on Nick, then it's a good thing he's not involving Nick in any of it!

Nick's real problem right now is the way Kim is staring at him. "What?" he asks, sinking into the abandoned seat. She doesn't respond, and Carmina glances skeptically at her dad from across the table. "What was I supposed to do?" he asks, exasperated. "It's not like he was gonna let it go."

"You could have put your foot down," Kim says. She sounds downright disappointed, and that stings more than Nick wants to admit. "You could have taken my side," she adds, aiming her heavy frown at the coffee cup in front of her.

"We've been waiting for him to want to talk about it," Nick points out. "And anyway, we need a radio. If he can help, we should encourage it. Right?"

Kim isn't keen on getting into a fight right in front of Carmina, so she only nods her head in response. It's enough, though, because Nick does wind up feeling guilty for siding with John. Right or not, he probably should have negotiated that better.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he says. "You're right. I've got tunnel-vision with this radio problem, is all."

"I know," Kim sighs. "I just... worry."

"Well, don't. I'll be fine."

Kim rolls her eyes. "It isn't you I'm worried about, Nick." She looks towards the stairs, listening to John pacing up in his room, then reluctantly turns back to her husband. "Just... promise me that you'll keep an eye on him, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Nick replies. Kim doesn't look too reassured, so Nick reaches over and wraps her hand in his. "Really, I will." He glances at Carmina and tells her, "You'll keep an eye on mom so she doesn't worry all day, right?"

"Sure," Carmina says. Nick knows from the Kim-like tone in her voice that she thinks he's being an ass, but at least she's young enough to not call him out directly yet. All he has to do now is make sure that neither of his girls can rub his rash decision-making in his face when he gets back.

John is quiet as he and Nick make their way through the woods. The walk itself isn't too bad, less than a mile out from the edge of what Nick used to consider his property, but John is having a lot of trouble hiding how jittery it is, and it makes for a tense hike. He keeps speeding up and falling behind, as though he can't decide whether or not he wants to lead the way.

"You sure you're ready for this?" Nick asks eventually, unable to help himself. John answers with such a dirty look that Nick immediately goes on the defensive. "Hey, don't give me that. I just don't want you to, you know... start having nightmares about it or Joseph or whatever all over again. You're the one who's always been weird about it."

John scoffs but doesn't respond. From the way he glares at the ground, Nick figures he probably hasn't stopped having nightmares yet. That's... probably a good reason to keep him from climbing all the way down into the hole. Of course, Nick isn't sure that he'll really be able to stop John, never mind what John promised back at the house.

"What were you doing out here?" John asks after the silence grows out again. "When you found me."

"Oh. Well, I was sorta looking for places to put more traps, after I made them. And, you know, if there was anything left to salvage out here." Neither of those ideas had gone anywhere, although maybe now would be a good time to revisit them. "There's not much out here, though. There's that herd of deer to the north, and the river... we really haven't needed to expand so much."

John hums agreeably in response, although he doesn't have much to add to the conversation. Nick doesn't know how to keep it afloat by himself, so he doesn't, letting them sink back into silence until they finally reach their destination. Nick recognizes the spot by the shock of parachute fabric hanging in the trees, just a flash of artificial color behind the browns and greens of the trees.

Now that he has time to look around, Nick can sort of see where the land had been cleared for installation. Of course, the only remnant of the open circle now is the thinner layer of weeds over what looks like a thirty-foot rectangle. He doesn't remember anybody building out here, and he can't even fathom when they could have done it, but somebody came through here right before the apocalypse and made themselves a hidey-hole.

Nick doesn't wait to approach the closed bunker door, but John lingers at the imagined edge of the space as though facing a barbed-wire fence. He seems pensive and lost in thought, and Nick lets him adjust while he sweeps away dirt and scraggly tumbleweeds that have just started to cover the hatch. Just a bunker or not, it's got to be a lot to deal with, although Nick can't imagine why. No matter how terrible being alone had been, it couldn't have gotten worse than intense boredom. Hell, Nick's met two different people who had clearly let the cabin fever get to them, and neither of them could shut up about their damn bunkers.

Reaching down, Nick braces his legs on either side of the bunker door and pulls at the hatch. John is clearly holding his breath, even this far away, tension coiled in his shoulders and forcing his spine ramrod-straight. He doesn't offer to help, stuck in place like he is.

"Maybe you should stay up here," Nick offers.

Of course, John only scowls at the thought. "You won't know where to look. It would be faster if I went in alone."

"Yeah, Kim would love it if I let you do that. Don't be an asshole."

Nick heaves the door upwards. The rusted hinges scream in protest, as if they hadn't moved in years, but the door swings open after a few hard tugs on the handle.

John hesitates a second longer, then approaches the hatch. Nick goes over to the edge, crouching down so that he doesn't fall, and shines the flashlight down the ladder. The air is stale, smelling like rot and mold, and Nick can see a puddle drying at the base of the ladder. Well, that makes sense — there's no way the seal is still airtight. So much for closing the door from the elements.

"You ready?" Nick asks. John nods mutely in response, standing some feet away from the hole. "Really, John. You don't have anything to prove. Kim would probably be happy if you stayed up top."

John grimaces. "I'll go first," he says, his voice clipped.

This is a bad idea, and Nick knows it. A month or two ago, he'd probably have figured John was about to pull a fast one on him, but now he's more concerned that John is trying to pull something on himself. Confronting your fears is one thing, but as John climbs down the ladder and Nick gets a good look at his pale face and tight jaw, he worries that this is too much, too fast. Not that John seems to understand the concept of pacing himself — he seems more like the kind of guy to throw himself mindlessly at a problem until it shatters under the sheer force of his determination.

Nick hands John the flashlight before he gets out of reach, following him down the rungs as quickly as he can. They knock into each other as he reaches the bottom rung, and Nick turns to find John aiming the flashlight uselessly at their feet. Staring down the murky darkness that turns the bunker into a cave of unknown depths, John looks as though he might hear floodwaters in the distance.

Maybe he's just taken aback by how bad things look, even with only a little light to see by. The looming piles of garbage and years of refuse have turned the twenty-by-ten foot box into a narrow, craggy cavern. Nick can see a door at the far end of the gloom, cracked in the middle and left ajar in its frame, surrounded by a pile of overturned furniture. He spends a second or two trying to calculate the dark tally marks he can see covering the wall next to him, but there are too many and he can't keep track.

John takes a shuddering deep breath that turns Nick's attention back to him. "Hey," he calls, "You okay?"

"Yes," John replies, spitting the word out. He shakes his head heavily from side to side, just in case Nick missed the baldfaced lie for what it is, and takes a hesitating step away from the ladder. The breath he takes doesn't seem to give him enough air, and no amount of gasping can draw more in. He has a white-knuckled grip on the ladder, and it seems for a second to be the only thing holding him up as he visibly reels.

Nick hasn't been on the opposite end of a panic attack in a long time, but he's been through enough on his own to see that John is veering wildly in that direction. He's searching the walls, rapid-fire counting the lines, confusion breaking out on his sweaty, gray face.

"Hey," Nick says quickly, lifting his hands placatingly as he comes closer, "Hey, it's gonna be okay."

John shakes his head again, rapidly this time, abandoning any pretense of control. "No," he gasps, "No, I don't think it is!"

Goddamn it. Nick should have known better, he never should have agreed to this, he never should have let John come down here. He just — he hadn't thought it would be like this. He didn't know it could be this bad.

Nick puts off berating himself, at least until John's panic passes. For now, he focuses on damage control, guiding John's free hand to grab hold of the ladder, which is at least haloed in enough light to keep the worst of it from immediate view.

"It is gonna be okay," he insists. "Here, let's — let's get back up top. Get you some fresh air, okay?"

For a moment, it looks like John doesn't understand the concept, but his fingers eventually curl together on one rung. "I didn't know," he says unhelpfully, but at least he doesn't resist as Nick ushers him slowly up the ladder. He moves so slowly, paralyzed by each step, but Nick's only concern is making sure he doesn't fall on his way out.

The sun is right overhead as John slides out of the bunker, crawling on his hands and knees and collapsing several feet away from the opening. Nick hesitates on the last rung, knowing full well that they can't just leave now that they're here, but he has to deal with John first. The radio has waited this long — it can wait a little while longer.

John gasps for air a few more times, barely catching his breath. He doesn't look at Nick, but he offers him a miserable apology, mumbling, "Sorry," halfway into the dirt.

Nick crouches beside John, awkwardly shifting his weight on his feet. He's not sure what he's supposed to do here — he isn't used to being on this side of things, and Kim is so much better at calming people down than he is. The worst of the attack has passed, but Nick's not good at damage control.

"Hey," he says at last, "It's okay. Take your time."

There's not a patient bone in John's body, so it's a small miracle when he listens obediently, struggling until his breath evens out enough to ease the panic.

"I thought I could handle it," he sighs at last, his voice heavy with resignation. "I handled it for seven years, I thought..."

Nick doesn't think what he saw down there counts as handling it by any means, but he's not about to say as much. Truthfully, he doesn't know what to say.

"We should go," Nick says. "This isn't worth it."

John looks offended at the mere suggestion. "We came all the way here," he rasps. "Give me a minute. I'll — I'll go back —"

"Like hell you will," Nick snaps. He doesn't mean to, but damn, is John really such a masochist? "Look, just — let me go find it. You keep watch up here."

There's barely any hesitation before John nods miserably in agreement. He tries not to let it get to him, but he's already shaken by the underground and he's in a suspiciously fragile state himself. He hopes to God that he can find the radio on his own, and that it works enough to make this trip worth the trauma. If this doesn't work out, Nick is going to feel even worse about it than he already does.

It's not the best idea to leave John alone, but Nick forces himself to go through with it anyway. Armed only with his flashlight and empty backpack, Nick descends as quickly as he can, taking one last breath of fresh air before disappearing into the bunker.

God, there is blood everywhere. Nick's not sure how many of the streaks on the walls are meant to be counted with the rest of the tallies, scratched into the walls with what Nick hopes to God was anything other than John's fingernails. Everywhere Nick shines the light, he finds another smear of crumbling red blood, each one painting a different image of John's scars and scabbed over tattoos. The garbage is honestly overwhelming, with a decade of waste piled up openly on top of sealed trash bags, cans spilling across the floor, dirty clothes and ripped fabrics clumped together in haphazard nests that have molded and mildewed into an inseparable mess...

There's more room to walk than Nick originally thought, although there aren't many places entirely free of trash. Still, he hesitates to step outside of the ring of natural light above. After all, nothing about this bunker is safe. Looking past the garbage and the wreckage that John has left behind, Nick sees rust starting to form along the seams, and his first step feels uneven, as if they hadn't leveled the ground properly before installing and just couldn't be assed to fix it.

Jesus Christ. It's a miracle that John didn't die down here. It's surprising enough that it circulated enough air for him to survive. How the hell did he make it as long as he did in this death trap?

It's not a question Nick can answer, and quite frankly he doesn't think it's safe to spend much time down here ruminating. As a matter of fact, the less time he spends down here, the better. It's hard not to take note of the damage, though, especially as he searches for wherever John might've kept his radio. Lord, with the way everything seems to have been torn apart, who knows if it's even going to be in one piece? Or even somewhere accessible? Nick really doesn't want to go poking through the destroyed couch or the bags of trash heaped in confusing piles across the bunker.

He heads all the way to the back of the space, circling around an overturned table and seeing at last a small desk wedged into the corner, facing the ladder. The radio microphone hangs from its cord over the edge, and Nick has to repress a delighted shout when he sees that it's still in one piece. There's a crack along the plastic case, but other than that, Nick can see that it's a model very similar to the one back home — older by a couple of years, maybe, but hopefully not so old that it's no longer compatible.

He struggles to be careful as he loads the radio into his bag, but all he wants to do is get the hell out of here. It's only once he's pulled the heavy backpack back onto his shoulders that Nick takes stock of the position that he's in. Standing here, facing the ladder, Nick can see a definite barrier that John must've formed at some point — the table, the desk, even the broken down automatic washer, all of it has been set up as though John were planning to hunker down against an enemy attack.

On the ground, behind the table, Nick sees a book with a white leather cover. The gilded Eden's Gate emblem has been mostly rubbed clean off, but Nick has seen that book too many times not to recognize it for what it is. It's bloated with water damage and stuffed with ripped addenda that have filled the binding to burst, lying on the cement like an undetonated grenade.

Nick grabs it before he can think better about it. He immediately regrets it, mostly because the bottom cover has become slimy and the whole thing feels like it's going to come apart in his hands. Not knowing what else to do, he drops it onto the empty desk, wrinkling his nose at the squelching slap of wet paper on wood. He goes so far as to pinch the first few pages under his finger, ready to flip it open to some random verse — but even touching the cover leaves Nick feeling uneasy and watched. Honestly, just looking at it fills Nick with a sense of distant dread, the same hazy fear that came along with the first time he got a face-full of Bliss.

Fuck that, he decides. Whatever John's left in the book, it's not for Nick to look at. He already got what they came for, and it's been about five minutes; Nick can't leave John waiting much longer, and frankly he doesn't want to. With one last grimace in the book's direction, Nick beelines for the ladder. He stops trying to tabulate how many days John kept track of, stops wondering when or if he ever lost count, and focuses entirely on getting the hell out of the goddamn deathtrap.

It's probably just his imagination, but Nick can smell floral sweetness in the air as he finally escapes the bunker. He takes a deep breath once he's out, tipping his face back to gratefully meet the blue Montana sky.

John waits until Nick looks at him to ask uneasily, "Did you find it?"

"Yeah," Nick replies, shifting the backpack so that he can pat it reassuringly. "I think it'll work. I didn't check for the parts — I figure we can do that back home."

John nods a few times. "Good," he mutters, "Good," as if maybe he doesn't think it's such a good thing at all. He falls silent, and Nick realizes he's waiting for Nick to say something about what he saw down there.

Nick wants to say something. He doesn't know what, though. His own thoughts are scattered and confused. "Uh... you mind if I close it up?" he asks.

John shakes his head mutely in response; the clang of the door rises up through the air like a stricken bell, scattering some birds that had been resting in the treetops.

"So... uh..." Nick rubs the back of his head, trying to decide what to say before deciding lamely to go with, "Do you... wanna talk about it?"

The fact that John doesn't immediately reply tells Nick all he needs to know. When John finally says, "No," Nick knows it's a lie, even if he's not sure what to do about it. Nick's positive that they do need to talk about it. But he doesn't know how he can force the issue, and he's sure he's not the man to do it. John needs a licensed psychologist, or a goddamn priest, someone who can absolve him of whatever the fuck that all was down there, not a hick aviator who can hardly handle his own trauma.

"Are you sure?" he presses. "I mean..."

John stares at the dirt, his hands curling into tense fists. Nick moves immediately to rescind the question, but John beats him to the punch. "I didn't know it would look like that," he tells the weeds matted under his boots. "I didn't think it would... be like that."

Nick wants to ask how John avoided noticing the mess spiraling out of control around him, but there had been plenty of evidence down there that proved John hadn't been in a clear state of mind.

"There... were issues with the power early on," John admits, clearing his throat roughly. "I would have to... prioritize. Switch on the lights, switch off the ventilation system. Switch off the lights, switch on the ventilation. Eventually, I stopped switching on the lights."

He swallows a few times and tries to bring his eyes to Nick's, but he can't seem to manage it. "Really," he mutters. "We don't have to talk about it." But before Nick can agree, because he suddenly wants to hear as little of the story as possible, John continues briefly onward, staggering the words as though he's throwing them off a cliff. "I've been locked in the dark before," he says. "I thought I could handle it. But I... I couldn't."

Nick doesn't know what to say. He stares helplessly at John, waiting for Kim to materialize out of the wood and point out the obvious emotional cue for him to take, but there's nothing but John's uncomfortable expression and a quiet forest all around them. He should reach out, maybe. Offer him a sympathetic hand, or something.

"That's all I want to say about it," John says at last.

"Uh. Okay." Nick clears his throat, tries to think up a good joke to lighten the mood, and fails completely. He tries to come up with something to say that would share his sentiment but nothing comes.

"Kim will start to worry," John mutters.

Kim's gonna worry no matter what, but Nick doesn't bother to tell John that. If he thinks he can hide his emotional distress from Nick's wife, then he is welcome to try. At least that'll be more fun to watch than the slow implosion happening in front of him now.

Nick waits until the silence between them on the way back doesn't feel so thick, then tries to distract from John's deeply pensive mood. "I'm not looking forward to reading more of that manual," he says as they trace the path back towards the house. "But I also don't wanna screw up our only chance at replacing it. It's a real tough situation."

"I assume the pictures aren't clear enough for you," John replies. It's a joke insult that stings mostly because of John's brisk delivery, and he ducks away as soon as the words leave his mouth. Nick considers taking it personally for a second, until John wearily mutters a sincere apology into the air between them. "I didn't mean that," he admits roughly.

"It's fine," Nick shrugs. After all, Nick's used to being a self-defensive dickhead; he can't exactly take offense.

Casually brushing it off seems to be the wrong thing to do. John comes to an abrupt halt behind Nick, thick tears gathering and spilling over his closed eyelids. At first, when Nick turns, he can't comprehend the sight in front of him, watching John's face slowly turn red. John sucks in a wet, heaving breath, which only makes things worse as it turns into a sob midway. It seems to mortify John, but he can't stop, and all at once he's just — crying, and Nick is left standing there while John covers his face in humiliation and sucks in deep, horrified breaths. Words try to form between the sobs, but all Nick hears is desperate wailing.

"Shit," Nick says, setting down the backpack, "Okay, hold on —"

"—Didn't know what to do," John's saying, the words tearing from his throat. "I got trapped, I didn't —"

"Hey," Nick tries, "Just — take a breath."

John sobs, dropping to his knees in the mulch. "I lost track of it," he gasps, "I don't know what's real, Nick. How much of this is happening — I keep thinking I'm not — I'm not ever getting out of here, and I —"

Oh, Nick knows he fucked up real bad now. John's cries tear through the scar overlaying his heart, as though twisting a knife that's rusted over in his chest. Nick thinks back to the muttering, the distant looks, the unsettling nightmares, and now he kind of sees them for what they are. Deep, visible wounds on John's psyche that he should have caught sooner. Signs of a collapse much bigger than the one that put them in this world to begin with. Clear indications that John wasn't ready to go back.

"Please," John gasps. He doesn't ask for anything, so Nick doesn't know what he wants, but he repeats the word like it's the only one he knows. "Please."

"God damn," Nick sighs, coming to John's side. "You are a real piece of work."

He can't help but try to deflect, even as he reaches out to grasp the dented curves of John's shoulders. He knows there are deep, claw-mark scars under his hands, even if he can't feel them through the flannel of John's shirt. He thinks he understands where they came from now, although the concept is more horrifying than Nick is willing to consider; all he can do is be better than John had been to himself, and hope that's enough.

Nick barely pulls John in before he's being grabbed, desperate claws sinking into Nick's back as John scrabbles for a secure grip. He's shaking so badly that Nick feels it rattling his own bones. There's nothing for Nick to do but hold on while John desperately tries not to fall apart at the seams, struggling to form coherent words. Nick only catches some of them, as John tries to explain the barriers, the tallies, the scarred over spaces where he used to have tattoos, but he doesn't need to understand the words to see the wounds that are being uncovered.

"Alone," John cries into Nick's chest, "I was alone, the whole time, he said I wouldn't be alone —"

"Okay," Nick consoles, "It's okay."

John eventually calms down, although it's anybody's guess how long it takes for him to finally catch his breath. Even when he does, his gasps finally leveling out, he keeps a tight grip on the back of Nick's shirt. Not even Carmina has clung to Nick so terribly, and despite the fact that John has a couple of years on him, Nick manages to feel desperately protective in the moment. He can't help it. John keeps talking like he can't tell up from down, and he'd been trapped down in that hole for who knows how long without power, and from the chaos he'd seen, it's clear John has been trying to protect himself for a long time.

"I've got ya," Nick says after John lets out a heavy sigh, finally losing the strength to hold on so tightly.

John's sweaty face is pressed into Nick's shoulder, but the words are still clear. "I need this to be real," he admits quietly. "I can't go back there."

"You don't have to," Nick says. He's rubbing John's back now and he doesn't know when he started, but the guy seems so desperate for the contact that he can't bring himself to stop. "You're not making me up, you know?"

John huffs. There might be a laugh somewhere in there, or Nick might be imagining it. "I know," he rasps. "I wouldn't be so kind to myself."

Oh, man. Nick sighs, patting his back gently. "Gotta work on that, I guess," he says. "We'll get you there."

John's fingers curl briefly against Nicks back. "Thank you," he mutters. "God, thank you."

Nick lets the situation lie like that for a minute or so. John is the first one to let go, his arms falling away from Nick's sides as he leans back and takes a deep, steady breath of air. Nick lets him go with a heavy pat on the shoulder, relieved to have the space if only because it means John isn't about to collapse again.

"Kim was right," John admits, saying aloud the thought that's been repeating nonstop in Nick's mind. "I should have listened to her."

Nick gets to his feet. "Yeah, probably. Thank God she isn't the type to say 'I told you so,' huh?"

John sits back, scrubbing at his face with the back of his sleeve. "I hope so," he says.

"I think I know my wife pretty well by now," Nick chuckles, holding his hand out for John. "C'mon, let's get home before she comes looking for us."

For an awful second, Nick thinks John is going to cry again, but he only grits his teeth and takes Nick's help to climb to his own feet. He dusts off his pants as though his face isn't warped by drying tear tracks, wiping belatedly at the wet skin under his eyes as they start onward again. Nick doesn't let him trail behind too far, but he doesn't force John to keep pace either, leaving enough space so that John doesn't feel self-conscious when he starts sniffling again.

They haven't been gone that long, but Kim is still waiting for them outside when they get back. She and Carmina are reading on the porch, but as soon as Nick and John reach the driveway, Kim drops the pretense entirely. Nick hears John take a deep breath behind him; he looks back, but John's expression is too troubled to get a good read. At least he doesn't seem likely to bolt.

"We got it!" Nick shouts as they walk across the drive, lifting the backpack up triumphantly.

"Oh, thank God," Kim sighs, relief flooding her expression. "Nobody got hurt?"

Nick looks back at John, then shrugs. "Nothing we can't fix," he suggests.

John takes a breath. He looks like he wants to spill everything right then and there, but he boils it all down into a simple admission. "I'm sorry," he mutters.

Stunned, Kim asks, "Are you okay?"

"No," he quietly replies. "You were right."

Kim shakes her head, glancing briefly at Nick before putting a gentle hand on John's arm. He sighs shakily at the contact, but thankfully he doesn't collapse into another crying wreck. Kim looks like she's expecting something like that, but John manages to surprise them both.

"We can talk about it later, if you want," Kim tells him, patting his shoulder.

There's relief in John's voice as he suggests, "I'll need a strong drink before I accept that offer."

Kim shakes her head, laughing a little. "It's as good a place to start as any," she tells him.

Carmina, who's been standing on the porch looking increasingly bored, finally gives up waiting for attention. "Hey, dad," she calls, lifting the radio's manual up in the air, "Can I help with the radio?"

"So much for my technological superiority," Nick sighs, raising his voice to tell Carmina, "Sure!"

"I couldn't help it," Kim replies. She has a smug expression that tells Nick a different story, but he can easily forgive her for deciding to make their kid smarter out of spite. It's better than trying to poison him or running off with Hurk and his raider gang. "I cleared off the table for you," she adds, "And I brought out the radio so you could get a better look at it."

"I guess there's no better time to start than now," Nick says. He offers John a lopsided grin and asks, "So, uh, how much do you know about electronic repair?"

"About as much as you," John replies. He gestures his arm towards the house, saying, "It can be a learning experience for us all."

As if this whole year so far hasn't been one big learning curve. Nick shakes his head, leading the three adults up to the porch. Carmina disappears inside, triumphantly waving the manual in the air, leaving Nick to chase playfully after her inside the house. He catches sight of Kim talking to John on the porch, but Carmina is squealing delightedly in his arms so he can't quite make out the conversation. Later on, he can tell Kim about what happened, but for now, she seems content with whatever John is saying, patting him again on the arm before leading him inside. She shuts the door behind her, and for the first time in almost a year, Nick feels as though he's finally home, surrounded by people on the same page as him for once. This, he thinks, could very well be his new normal, and that's not so bad at all.

[fortheheavenssake]

PG MM Anon Interpretation Collection- 14

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG INTERPRETATION OF MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

91: Oct. 19

MM ANON …… “ O no , not another f%#ing beautiful Sunday “…… All together, a ROYAL reunion 🦄🦎👸🤴… “ she’s not invited, again🧣“……” O Philip, do lets watch this documentary 🤣🤣“ …… “Really, old thing, really ?”…… “ bloody hell , Charlottes a better actress “……… “ Mummy!! I’ve lost my 🦎” ……” What next LG , the Caribbean and North America with the children?”…… “ Mmmm , Marm that would work ,next year’ someone will be jealous!!” …… “ “what’s that ol’ thing , I’m reading skippy Philip”

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON, I DO HOPE YOU’RE WELL🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

October 19/2019 1245 hrs CST

“ O no , not another f%#ing beautiful Sunday “…

Sunday is historically day to attend worship and spend time with family. It’s also, in more urban areas the day when the biggest newspapers come out. Another beautiful but blanked up day because this curse still hangs in the air, no justice yet but it’s coming! Justice is coming! Sunday’s will soon be as they once were, different, through life experiences but they will family days again!

All together, a ROYAL reunion 🦄🦎👸🤴…

The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge just returned back to London last night after a five day tour of Pakistan 🇵🇰. The Royal tour was successful far and above expectations. They had promised the children a family weekend. I am certain there were lots of tears along the way despite FaceTime and talking, lots of hugs upon return home. Princess Charlotte has developed a passion for unicorns. Over the summer, as boys do, will all of the garden time that the Duchess did with her family he must have seen salamanders and lizards or just fell for them via books perhaps. So the whole family happily back together along with boss baby , Prince Louis. He acquired that title from his facial expression, priceless ones, during the flyover on Buckingham Palace balcony.

“ she’s not invited, again🧣“…

The Christmas church service last year, upon exiting, madam tried to engage Prince William in conversation, he was wise to her moves and made himself very busy fiddling with his scarf. She then tried Prince Charles who in turn ignored her. The term scarfing has truly taken on a life of its own online🤣🤣🤣😂😂. I think this is clearly Prince William putting his foot down clearly expressing his opinion.The line she’s not invited, also has a bit of a cite reference, the day of Prince Louis’ christening, as they left the chapel to walk back into the entrance, Princess Charlotte said to the amassed media, “you’re not coming”, was tremendously funny and sweet. Her personality was already showing!

” O Philip, do lets watch this documentary 🤣🤣““Really, old thing, really ?”…… “ bloody hell , Charlottes a better actress “…

HMTQ and PP, likely over the evening cocktail chatting, she jokingly states the above, his replies are the latter two quotes. I am glad they are able to talk and find some humour in this situation! Oh how l would love to be a fly on the wall, meaning love to hear some of their discussions!

“ Mummy!! I’ve lost my 🦎” …

Well trauma, upset, tears of sadness and shrieks of OH NO!! Prince George has lost his lizard, l hope not inside or shrieks of horror, outside, just a very sad little boy. I am certain a replacement lizard could be sourced post haste!

” What next LG , the Caribbean and North America with the children?”

Prince William and HMTQ, and Duchess Catherine likely reviewed/debriefed the events of the tour with LG in attendance. I can hear ideas thrown about on how to continue this success to build on the success of the monarchy. I think half jokingly William said, what next, do you propose such a trip with all three children? I know rumours out there of madam being pregnant but not confirmed, besides another a Royal tour doesn’t happen with her, because SHE IS NOT ROYAL!!! I know the Cambridges took their own private medic along to Pakistan 🇵🇰. I have a feeling she may already be or will shorten announced that she is expecting another child.

“ Mmmm , Marm that would work ,next year’ someone will be jealous!!” …This is definitely LG responding to the notion of an entire a Cambridge family Royal tour! Can you just imagine the coverage? There would have never been anything like it before, and madam would be climbing the walls of her cell or padded room when she learned of that. She will be forever jealous and hateful.

“ “what’s that ol’ thing , I’m reading skippy Philip”

HMTQ reading when PP says something to her, she replies with the above quote! See 💜🐼💜, l have told youn🐼, THEY DO READ YOUR BLOG,!! This is an absolute confirmation of a suspicion l have had and have talked about! So feel free to express yourself!! WE LOVE AND BELIEVE IN HARRY, WE WANT HIM BACK!!!💜💜💜💜GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

October 19/2019 1315 hrs CST

Thank you dear PG….what a fun happy riddle today. I love the tidbits about the children…..I want you know we greatly appreciate the time and effort you put into deciphering these riddles for us. Well…I hope if HM does read here….she will let us know she is ok…😉.💜💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

—————-

92: oct 20

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻This riddle was extremely difficult 🙏🏻🙏🏻💜🤣

MM Anon

MM ANON … A disruption in the FORCE… … give a lot , take a little …… sighted for perpetuity …… 🎼matter of fact, it’s all dark 🎼……… multiple numbers …… his backhander slush fund …… silent outrage in Carshalton …… “ But O, how bitter a thing”………” bending of the heart flings” ……… a comfortable exorcism …… “ sunshine is the best…” …… “ sunshine is the best…”

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU DEAR MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

October 20/2019 1405 hrs CST

A disruption in the FORCE

In all the a Star Wars movies the FORCE is the power of the energy for good to fight evil. The force be with you has become common usage when you wish some good luck or best wishes in all kinds of situations. Here we are now, dear MM ANON has the word force , in all capitals , meaning extreme, pay attention, some people say all caps means you’re yelling. I personally do not, many of you know when o type in all caps l am expressing my emotions or concerned topic. MM ANON is in deadly seriously telling us that evil, and we all know the evil, it has a name and backers and ultimately the biggest backer who takes souls and laughs at God! There is an extremely concerted effort, especially today to take down HMTQ and the Monarchy, this is as serious a things get folks. There is a disruption, Harry was the access point, evil got in, has been using him everyday. I do not know what will happen today, tonight , tomorrow or the day after. But vigilance is needed, pray if you’re so inclined. This is the most serious battle and attack HMTQ has ever faced!

give a lot , take a little

That’s the phrase, climate change, leave less carbon footprints , charity give your time, etc. HMTQ and many royals give so much time, yes they get to live in mansions etc, but how many of us could keep HMTQ schedule for 93 years, still smile as if everything was fine. I think no future generations will have those skills. The world has changed, everybody is famous with their Instagram etc etc.

We have madam who has taken and taken , taken, taken, taken,taken, taken, was well with open arms publicly, despite manipulating her way in. She has taken very perk there is. NO GRATITUDE, give an inch, she takes 100 miles, so to speak. What does HMTQ get for this? Fingered up, every way, every day, now the poor card will be played after using and exhausting all her other cards. Few have asked me how l am, wah wah wah. She screams privacy, privacy, don’t take my picture, how can anyone ask you anything? She has treated the British people so vile lay, why would they even WANT TO ASK? They want her gone, pick a country, leave!! Just stop,your whinging , word salad, environmental preaching while taking six private jet flights. On and on and on….

sighted for perpetuity ……

Perpetuity is an interesting word, it’s used in financial terms but does have another usage. Let’s let our friend google help us understand it. One meaning is a bond or other security with no fixed maturity date. The second meaning is used as a legal meaning. It is

a restriction making an estate inalienable perpetually or for a period beyond certain limits fixed by law. Now let’s be clear on what inalienable means that something or someone is unable to be taken away from or given away by the possessor. Basically this is meaning , Harry’s inheritance from his mother, his great grandmother, the Queen mum, any other such funds, homes, jets etc etc CANNOT be taken away from him FOREVER. So should there be a divorce or annulment, she has no legal grounds or recourse to go after any of these items. A payout yes, so the royal family has sound legal and financial admin setting up their assets. Thank God!!!

🎼matter of fact, it’s all dark 🎼………

My dear MM ANON, l must say , l was absolutely expecting a return to this gem today! Pink Floyd’s Eclipse. The lyrics of this song about basically everything in life, l can’t put them in here due to copyright but you can easily find them The song ends with the eclipse. The thought is during a lunar/eclipse of the moon, the moon goes dark and the side we can’t see is still lit up. The song ends by this phrase that MM ANON gave us , it’s all dark. Extrapolating that to the situation at hand, it’s all dark. There is no sliver of a silver lining, bit of light or hope that madam will have an a-ha moment, fall on her knees, acknowledging her sins and beg forgiveness. No no no no, it’s all dark, no redemption will be sought. This is very dire friends, very dire indeed, the prognosis is dark. Hence my feelings of anxiety.

multiple numbers ……

Well what is this? We know madam has had multiple number partners, marriages, sex videos, tax issues, merching, basically everything. What is MM ANON referencing here? Discrepancy in items on her taxes? There are so many possibilities.here

his backhander slush fund

This has an informal British meaning of a secret payment, typically one made illegally; a bribe. So, a slush fund is extra cash , hidden, in case of emergency etc. Who is ‘his’ here? Is it PH? Did he think he could at first, just pay her for the booty call and she would go away, vastly unaware of the plot. Is this PP or PC who have such a fund, if needed. Is this PA, who also may have a fund of this nature, if needed. I have no idea which one but this confirms that such fund exists and the purpose for it, but l don’t know who or why it may have been started or if/when/how often it has been used. Yet another piece of this ever-growing larger puzzle.

silent outrage in Carshalton

Carshalton s a town, with an historic village in the London Borough of Sutton, South London. Historically Carshalton is part of Surrey. The Earl and Countess of Wessex live in Bagshot Park, Surrey. Sophie does so much in her duties. She is exceptionally close to HMTQ. I saw an interview with her and Prince Edward. They said basically every weekend they spend together, doing outdoorsy things, horses etc. She said also, since so close she often goes for tea with HMTQ. Prince Edward has been reportedly been called her favourite son. Edward will inherit his fathers title, the a Duke of a Edinburgh when that time comes. I think the both of them must be terribly concerned for HMTQ and PP, their health, this stress etc etc.

“ But O, how bitter a thing”………” bending of the heart flings”

From Shakespeare’s As You Like It. First quote referencing seeing another’s happiness through their eyes. Harry saw/sees in William and Catherine’s relationship, then marriage, the three beautiful children, their complete and utter love and devotion. These are all things he longs to have, achingly so. I ache for Harry. I cannot seem to locate the second quote, that’s very odd/unusual. I shall figure it out. Longing for something, sometimes one bends or does something they would never nor do, if they think it can get them what they desire. Flings can be a very casual relationship vacation fling, holiday flings etc, now maybe a booty call. So here we have a young man , struggling with his emotional state, severe anxiety, depression and PTSD, has every tangible thing in the world, except he longs for , desires the intangible, love, utter devotion and children of his own, they become tangible or real. This describes the situation exactly when the attack was made on the BRF via Harry. This steams my tea kettle!!

a comfortable exorcism

Exorcism, in its truest meaning, is a person possessed by a demon, or demons/Satan and a Priest or pastor uses Scripture and other things to set the victim free releasing them. This word, demon,is often used now to describe addiction or other really difficult things that have a hold on someone, therapy, AA, exercise etc etc etc can be used to exorcise oneself. So here we have a comfortable getting rid of the thing that has a hold of some. God l plead this means that Harry will be released from the grasp he is under, if l read this correctly, comfortable means exactly that. How this will be done, LG and HMTQ know. Please let me be correct🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

“ sunshine is the best…”

Sunshine is the best disinfectant there is, you hang sheets, quilts laundry and the UV, ultra-violet rays kill anything. Just look at what it does to our skin! MM ANON is being cheeky with a double entendre here, Sunshine Sachs, the supposed master PR firm that ‘uses the dark arts for clients’. Since they have come on board, the boat has tilted and started quickly the process of sinking. So they have done nothing to help, on,y made this worse. However, we can count on God’s glorious creation, the sun, to sterilize the filth that’s made public so far and will be made public in the future!!! So come on, pullback the curtain, let the filth out!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

October 29/2019

1520 hrs CST

You missed the last hint….

a very lumpy bed nutmeg

“A very lumpy bed nutmeg “

I think this in anticipation of a nice bed in an expensive building with lots of hired staff and she will get to wear designer orange jumpsuit! MM ANON hinting at either hospitalization or incarceration. I have an extensive 20 plus years working in the mental health field, inpatient treatment for any personality is in effective, they quickly adapt, learn staff weaknesses etc etc.

Preparing to hope the orange jumpsuit time comes!

Sorry love forgot this one guys, when l cut and pasted the riddle this didn’t appear.

Thank you PG…again looks interesting! Thank you for all that you do. Much appreciated!😁💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

—————-

93: oct 21

MM ANON …… rejected ‘ now reflect!!…… A colonial decision …… Cain un-Abel………… he’s not heavy …… “re-tune your bloody violin”…… “ change the channel 🤣 old thing”…… a broken mendacity …… Calipornia scheming …… “f***that cottage,I wanted the house”…… “ the family I never asked for” …… “all to plan ma’am”……🎼”Paperback Writer? “🎼…… cry-Sis,What cry-Sis.

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

October 21/2019 1340 hrs CST

rejected ‘ now reflect!!

We have had a clue very similar wording, l cannot recall exactly. Madam feels very rejected by the big bad U.K. l have been there a number of times, trust me, l was treated like royalty by my friends there!! The people are feeling very angry by her poor me poor me, the final straw l think the camels back is nearly completely fractured. That’s a phrase when something in life has been building and building and then some happens, the last straw and the person collapses mentally, or becomes violent or leaves a marriage. I hope l am explaining that so it makes sense! Harry will have six weeks to reflect, on everything he has done at HMTQ and LG behest. He has given his all for HMTQ.

Cain un-Abel

In Scripture, Cain and Abel they are the first two sons of Adam and Eve. God was given sacrifices for worship, he found favour in Abel’s sacrifice. Cain murdered Abel , jealousy? Here we have un-Abel. This is clearly Prince William and Prince Harry, not ever the murdering part. I think MM ANON is meaning one brother married and has lovely family and will be King. However Prince Harry’s marriage is bogus as is amw. Prince Harry is obviously struggling in every way. One brother just unable to find the love and family, life partner as the other has. I pray for them both!🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

A colonial decision ……

The colonies is what America was called before they separated taxation without representation! So madam has decided to return to the colonies, live her filthy life, write a book and continue to cause carnage, SO SHE THINKS!! She has absolutely no idea what will hit her when reality comes. No more delusional lies, the long list of alleged things done wrong and the laws alleged involved. Oh God, let justice be meted out SOON!🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 P.S. madam, most people in the colonies have no idea who you are and more so they don’t care! She will be seen as a whiner etc etc.

he’s not heavy ……

Phrase, and song, he’s not heavy, he’s my brother. In the garbage last night, Harry did not confirm any falling out, he said they’re both on different paths, busy life. But he’s my brother, they will always be brothers and always be there for each other. TO ME THAT SAYS IT ALL!!

“re-tune your bloody violin”……

Old saying when someone is whinging or feeling sorry for thematic, being a drama queen etc another person puts their hand up and rubs their thumb and index finger together. They then asker the whinging person, do you know what this is? It’s the worlds smallest violin playing just for you!🤣🤣🤣🤣😂 PP wants a change in the tune, make it louder so madam cannot be heard!!!🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂

“ change the channel 🤣 old thing”…

PP and HMTQ started watching the garbage last night, PP chuckling says to her to change the tv channel! I picture them in their evening close, lovely fireplace, comfy elegant room and furniture, having a cocktail and just enjoying each other’s company. As they have done their entire marriage, they are at each other’s side, just beautiful, brings tears actually how horrible this massive attack has been!

a broken mendacity

Mendacity is untruthfulness, lies. Broken lies, well how many times have we seen this with madam. Dozens, she tells so many lies as does her PR, things get twisted and nothing gets amended, they lie their way out of it when questioned. If it weren’t so deadly serious it would be funny. Like a kid with chocolate all over his face and mum asks if he ate chocolate and he says no. She really is stunted about age 14 , lies like some teenagers do!

Calipornia scheming ……

Well she scheming what else she can do to blow the Monarchy apart and completely destroy it Prince Harry. This six weeks away, home in L.A.?Doing porn, or finding wealthy person to be used by for money.perhaps meeting with her backers. I hear rumours of an interview with OW. The whole group of ba let’s will rally around and continue their unrelenting plot to destroy destroy destroy.

“f***that cottage,I wanted the house”…

Well no surprise there, Frogmore Cottage blech , she wanted FROGMORE HOUSE THE MANSION! What unmitigated gall this stupid, egocentric, narcissistic, evil possessed bint! She probably thinks since their offices are at BP she should be given BP!

“ the family I never asked for” ……

Initially, she was saying the Royal family, was family that she had never had. She knew nothing of them, LIE! In the engagement interview she said everything she knew about the Royal family she leaned from Prince Harry and from actually meeting them. Now she has figuratively slapped them all across the face. Talking about how mentally damaging it is to live using a stiff upper lip. I won’t go into detail of how successful, having this life ethos has helped them get through wars, etc etc, you all know this and what a complete disrespect she has shown to them. To say Tutu was historic leader glad amw could meet, UNBELIEVABLE! HMTQ has reigned for nearly 70 years seen it all. Absolutely no respect for her and the Monarchy itself. I am so angered that this stupid, perverted, sold herself in every possible DARE DARE DARE!!! This degree of vulgarity and disrespect my blood is boiling, l am so angry!

“all to plan ma’am”…

LG giving HMTQ an update on how their work is progressing. He seems very pleased with last nights tv garbage. He has been patiently working with his team to deal with this. He has been playing the ultimate game of chess with someone who cannot play checkers. He has given her many opportunities to show her true self. Last night she was all laid bare, pun intended, videos or photos l am certain will be public at some point. She has walked confidently into every single trap that was laid out for her. Now all captured in living colour, in her own words!! Treason! She was not pregnant, fauxmegnancy! , if there is some surrogate child, it’s not Prince Harry’s child.

🎼”Paperback Writer? “🎼…

This is a great song by the TRUE Fab Four, The Beatles! It actually mentions the Daily Mail and the gossipy things that appear in tabloids. This is telling us that madam is or will be writing a book. She has no limits in her grand focuses and cause maximum carnage with our a Royal family. Her backers probably will pull some strings and make sure it gets maximum coverage. The big bad Brits and the Royal famine didn’t ask her if she was ok. Give me strength Lord🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻.

cry-Sis,What cry-Sis.

Cry-sis is an actual UK charity to assist new parents when their babies have problematic sleep patterns. However, MM ANON, always clever, this is Crisis, what crisis? Someone is in denial. There are several real things happening in the U.K. that fit the word crisis. Brexit, politics, BOJO misleading HMTQ, madam and her backers plan to cause the Royal family to break and crumble. In last night garbage, in an area where life and death issues are occurring, she is 110% self focused. SHE HAS FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS! Yammering on about her tough life standing on African soil where there are many third world problems. She is selfish to a degree l have never seen, it’s evil, Satan working through her! She has completely sold her soul.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

October 21/2019 1455 hrs CST

Fascinating read dear PG! Looking good, all going as planned! Thank you so much, again…much appreciated! 🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜

—————-

94: Oct 22

MM ANON …… dodging the Boo-lets…… November is a wicked month ……… Banksgiving … … “He’s untouchable” …… Dispatches Dispatched…… “ l stand by my husband “s,millions …… “ you’ve lost your mojo mate” …… 🎼” when I was 21,it was a very good year”🎼…… Marry and Hagon …… “meanwhile, back at BP”…… “mummy,mummy a Halloween unicorn 🦄 “…… “ I’m going as a 🦎”…… “well we’re going as M&H”…… “yeah, it’s a pity I listened to my d***”. …… “ nothings impossible mate”…… “look’ here’s your out!!”

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

October 22/2019 1345 hrs CST

… dodging the Boo-lets

Today, now as we speak, madam is wearing her purple maternity dress which magically fits her, whilst attending the One World Youth Symposium at Royal Victoria and Albert Hall. Oh how l would love to see it, l so wish l were well enough to, alas, l am already digressing. This 💜💜”The annual One Young World Summit convenes the brightest young talent from every country and sector, working to accelerate social impact. Delegates from 190+ countries are counselled by influential political, business and humanitarian leaders such as Justin Trudeau, Paul Polman and Meghan Markle, amongst many other global figures.

Delegates participate in four transformative days of speeches, panels, networking and workshops. All delegates have the opportunity to apply to give keynote speeches, sharing a platform with world leaders with the world’s media in attendance. As well as listening to keynote speakers, delegates have the opportunity to challenge world leaders, interact and be mentored by influencers. Delegates make lasting connections throughout the Summit, celebrating their participation at social events and the unforgettable Opening and Closing Ceremonies.

The One Young World Summit 2019 sees the global forum for young leaders return ‘home’ for the first time since the inaugural Summit in 2010. With over 300 languages to be heard on its streets, London is one of the most diverse places in the world. The city is home to nearly 9 million people, one of the world’s biggest financial centres and countless historic sites such as Buckingham Palace and Big Ben. A city where the past and future merge, London provides the ideal backdrop for young leaders from more than 190 countries to work together to accelerate positive change.” 💜💜 Information taken from one young world.com

It’s important because young people are vulnerable. This woman has no shame, After all the fireworks she has set off, she strolls in there, wearing someone else’s hair, in her maternity dress! An enigma wrapped in a riddle, quite literally is she.

Since the audience is composed of young people the addition of let’s after boo, refers to that. The hope of many is that she would be in direct line of receiving public anger. The brief bit l saw was Higgs kiss you etc, no boos nothing. Now l am never one to wish ill will on anyone but consequences for behaviours? ABSOLUTELY!! Consequences will at some point catch up with her!

November is a wicked month …

MM ANON you do enjoy the book don’t you, this is the second time you have referenced it but changed the month. My memory is still intact🤣🤣😂.l shall help others catch up. The book is entitled August is a Wicked Month by Edna O’Brien. The plot revolves around a woman who has moved to a foreign city, separated from her husband, dreadfully unhappy and moves south to find a new life in the sunshine. Well, we are in October, rumours abound about madam moving to Africa or Canada. On behalf of Canada, sorry we are closed for business, if you leave a message NOBODY WILL RESPOND!😂😂🤣🤣 l know l have used that line BRF but it’s so funny😂😂🤣🤣. What November, six weeks off, off to the sunshine in L.A. Oh God please let her lose her passport or have the IRS or FBI awaiting her arrival.

I must say, l have been pleading for Harry, PTSD, combat fatigue, that he be assessed medically for that pain, and psychologically regarding the off the charts stress of this role he has been playing. Thank you HMTQ and LG for giving him six weeks leave, he is so badly in need of it.

Banksgiving

Madam returning home for American Thanksgiving which occurs much later than ours(Canadian)does. There is no bank holiday for Thanksgiving in the U.K. so what’s the meaning here? Is madam going to earn some money during the sex, l meant six weeks off?? I know she’s resourceful, has no shame, long history of letting every bit of her, body heart soul used. So l won’t think further, you can all imagine ways she might find a ‘bank’ in America.

“ l stand by my husband “s,millions

Old country music song Stand by Your Man, l think Tammy Wynette? Yes, madam has stood by her H , so many times, loving, supportive, so concerned when he was in pain, always let’s him go first, never interrupts him, praises HMTQ, treats people respectfully, especially during Royal tours, follows protocol in every way, oh oh oh, wait, l am thinking of Catherine! Yes the Duchess of Cambridge stands by her man! Madam stands by Prince Harry for his money and his fathers money, heck, anyone s money just as long as they give it too her. I may be jovial today is some comments, l have been awake since 0300 hrs bad night, but you all know by know how seriously l take to do justice to dear MM ANON in interpreting her riddles! Humour is a coping mechanism, l have honed that skill well!

“ you’ve lost your mojo mate” …

Prince Harry likely spending time with friends he has not seen for awhile. Likely he can share only certain things. Everyone who has eyes can see HES lost weight, depressed etc etc. The word mojo, when l was little, mojos were little fruit chewy candies, 5 for two cents. Mojo, means ones drive for life, zest to do new things or go back to doing things you used to enjoy. This is a very loving and honest person telling Harry this. I am so glad he’s got so many who love him. Harry, there are lots like me, who believe in you 100% , pray for you and want the octopus tentacles untethered from around you!

… 🎼” when I was 21,it was a very good year”🎼…

What MM ANON., no Pink Floyd. Now this is my jam, ‘ol blue eyes himself, Mr. Frank Sinatra, when music was music. This is a sentimental song. The lyrics take us through four phases in a mans life, ages 17,21,35 and autumn , the older years. It describes relationships with women, no let me take that back, it’s about how males see females at different ages. Seventeen is all teeny bopper love. Twenty one, things get far more intimate. Thirty five is interest, because Harry is due to turn 35. That part of the song, the lyrics speak of relationship with blue blooded woman, limousines, chauffeurs. I am interpreting this as an annulment or divorce before he turns 35. Hope and a future to look forward to real love, a real family of his very own. I wish that with all my heart for our Harry!

… Marry and Hagon

Marry and Hagon? Harry and Magon……..She will be gone. Harry will be Harry but she will be gone!!!!!

“meanwhile, back at BP”……

Old saying meanwhile back at the ranch, means change the topic or in tv shows change of scene. So with all that has gone on, HMTQ remains doing her duty each and every day. How l love her in purple!! She follows her routine, to the letter, giving each appearance her all. One would never ever know of all the things that have happened and are continuing to happen behind the scenes. The stiff upper lip, that’s how one gets things done, it’s not mentally damaging. HOBBIES , sniff sniff, snort snort, the like madam loves, and PERVERSION are mentally damaging. There is a saying, when the going gets tough, the tough get going. One doesn’t whimper and moan. With my current life, since my spinal lesion and constant pain, my life changed fir sure. Stiff upper lip and humour have got me through. I think pretty much anyone who has read my words, or messaged me, can attest to the fact that l have a serious side along with a silly side! Stiff upper lip!!

“mummy,mummy a Halloween unicorn 🦄 “…… “ I’m going as a 🦎”… “well we’re going as M&H”…

Well, how much would l LOVE to see these beautiful children in their Halloween costumes!! Princess Charlotte, a unicorn, Prince George as a lizard, William and Catherine’s joking as who they will be. MM ANON, can you please find out what boss baby Prince Louis’ costume will be!! Thank God for the beautiful Cambridge family,they are so beloved.

“yeah, it’s a pity I listened to my d***”.

Prince Harry, again in conversation, l would say definitely with a male due to usage of the d word, starts with d rhymes with pick. Talking together with how he got into this mess. It was a booty call, just a booty call. To have that lead where it has, is terrifying. Pay attention kids! No casual sex! It eats away at your soul.

“ nothings impossible mate”……

Continuing in the conversation, his friend is reassuring Prince Harry that he has fulfilled his duty. This relationship will end in annulment or divorce and the future is bright. He has learned so much about himself, about life, about what’s truly important and there is definitely possibility for him to find love and have his own family. All thank a God he has supportive friends and family who live him!

“look’ here’s your out!!”

Madam, wah wah wah, nobody asks me if l am ok, and saying in vague terms that she maybe cannot continue, it’s near the end of the interview, l cannot recall the exact words. She will go to America , hit the ground running there🤣🤣😂😂😂🤣🤣. The only way she will hit the ground running is if she parachutes off the plane! Her doing this, his friend is saying that Harry’s out, it’s a short way to say, you can get out of a situation. This means get out of the marriage. I am still not 100% there is a legal marriage, Harry held up the register as he signed, plus non-consumation, (no intimacy after vows)annulment. I think the fact that this alleged baby is NOT his, that is critical point as well. Treason, madam trying to pass off baby as being of the body, fauxmegnancy, and no DNA matching Harry.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

October 22/2019 1500 hrs CST💜💜💜💜💜

Thank you dear PG! This is great….things are happening in the background….I too would love to know what PL will be! Much appreciated as usual…😊💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

********

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG APOLOGISES🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

💜💜💜I have to apologize, l after the submission, noted two clues were missed by me.

l have changed how l work on the riddles, in terms of where on my iPad. It has happened several times that l miss clues since that time.

MM ANON, l mostly apologize to you, l know you work so hard on your riddles.

Am l forgiven!???🥺

GSTQAOBC🇨🇦

PG, no need to apologize…we appreciate you and all the time and effort you put in…😊💜💜💜💜

*********

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻FOR MM ANON FROM PG🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

MM Anon💜💜💜💜💜

MM ANON …… pg … no apologies never!!! You’re input as with others who give such a wealth of interpretations. Time for me to thank everyone for their esteemed efforts , my sincere and humble thanks. One last riddle ……… “ The pain in gain stays mainly on the wane.” (( difficult)) … but fun.

Eliza Doolittle

the rain in Spain stats mainly in the plains

MY FAIR LADY awe come on that was easy! Rex Harrison always my idea of an Englishman!

Seriously thank you for your kind words!

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

GSTQAOBC🇨🇦

Thank you PG😊❤️❤️❤️

—————

95: oct 24

MM Anon I DONT KNOW WHY IT WAS ALL JUMBLED UP I HAVE REDONE IT

MM ANON …… 22 years,sex lies drugs and video tapes …… little boy lost (and found) …… LGs long rope …… 🎼don’t cry for me …… 🎼……… DVDelivery …… LGs records. …… 🎼”cold comfort for change”🎼MA……… “ No darling, 42 and counting “……… “ since 🎼don’t cry for me …… 🎼 before the gathering of unhappy people old thing”……… inadmissible but relevant …… “ a brilliant QC”……… “ a very thick brief📇⚖️“…… “as tight as a ducks@$$ under water’ ma’am”…… “one is reluctant you understand!

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

October 24/2019 0500 hrs CST

Sorry it’s submitted so late!

22 years,sex lies drugs and video tapes

Madam has a long, sordid past and present, her future is unknown, one can always pray for redemption. This clue is telling us of several decades of vulgarity, substance(s) use and abuse, pornographic videos etc etc etc. Some people somewhere have the videos. There has to be many many witnesses or people out there who have first hand knowledge either participating in or observing these behaviours. Thus far there has been no whistle blowers so to speak. That tells us a lot of money has been paid or threats made to silence people.

little boy lost (and found)

This has been the title of numerous tings, sculpture, film, novel and a poem by poem by William Blake in the 1700’s. I will focus on that. It is written by a Christian, he uses the metaphor of a young boy walking behind his father but loses his way, endings up all wet and muddy. Here we have little boy lost and found. This is of course our Harry. He was lost emotionally decades after he lost his mum. Lifestyle choices were not the best, shall leave it at that. He met madam on a booty call, here we are today. Harry has, l still believe! been working covertly for all the reasons l have stated reported in my interpretations. Hence the little boy, now a man has been giving his all to make up for his mistake(s) to his own physical peril. Weight loss, depression etc etc. He now has six weeks leave!

LGs long rope

LG has made a long game plan, every step of the way madam, thinking she’s getting her way, has fallen into every trap, the ultimate being the video interview with Tom Brady, Harry’s friend going way back! The old saying give a guy a rope and he will hang himself , metaphorically, like give an inch , she will take a mile. Give her bit of freedom and she ends up looking like an idiot. Well she truly has incriminated herself, the video was brilliant in capturing everything in HER OWN WORDS!

🎼don’t cry for me …… 🎼

Fantastic musical entitled Evita! Based on the life of Evita Peron . She was born Maria Eva Duarte’s in a small village in Argentina, in a very poor family. At young age she moved to Buenos Aires with big dreams of being famous actress. A year there she met her future husband at a charity event. Juan Peron became president in 1946 and she was First Lady until 1952, year she died. The Musial became very successful even became a film with Madonna. Anyhow we know madam spent time in Argentina as arranged by one of her uncles, working in some job at the embassy/ consulate. Those years are murky but she didn’t last long , she allegedly left suddenly with some guy. The irony of both women’s lives cannot be lost!

DVDelivery

DVD, we know recordings of sex exist. Who sent them and who received them? Who has copies. There are videos onlin, l won’t watch but some say yes, some say no regarding whose in them. I would think, LG has long long had possession of that and worse. We know the DM has a million dossier ready to go , ready BEFORE the day of unhappy people!

LGs records.

LG has the most distinguished record of service to HMTQ and country. I am certain he has kept a volume of data, in all forms of all the information he and his team and other agencies have collected. I am as certain of that as l am certain of anything.

🎼”cold comfort for change”🎼MA

MM ANON takes us again to Pink Floyd. I used to love! this song, Wish You Were Here, can be used with any loss, or at least l found it to be thus. Madam and MA have been an illicit pair for years and years. Just imagine what the two of them got up to together! Using SoHo, MA knows EVERYBODY,, He probably has dirt of EVERYBODY as well! These two, longing for each other’s company and their plans to outwit the backers or make that go rogue, marry baby etc etc. Their continued secret communications, thinking LG had no idea😂😂😂😂🤣. Oh they’re both in a world of hurt, missing their partner in crime, a common phrase but here think a literal meaning!!!

“ No darling, 42 and counting “…

There has long long long been speculation that madam is not and has never been truthful about her real age. MM ANON is telling us 42 and counting so what is her real exact age??? Old as her tongue and a little older than her teeth😂😂😂🤣🤣.

“ since 🎼don’t cry for me …… 🎼 before the gathering of unhappy people old thing”

I put these two clues together because MM ANON started and ended the quotation marks. The song Don’t Cry for Me Argentina is from the musical Evita. It was a film in 1996. Evita the stage version started as a rock musical in 1976, came to the West End in 1978, Andrew Lloyd Webber, the brilliant creator. Let’s do some math 2019 - 1976 mmmm what’s that give us 43! Madam is 43!!!! She was 42 at the gathering of unhappy people!!LIAR CRY FOUL, LEST BE A LIAR!!!

inadmissible but relevant

Evidence, has to be obtained legally or given voluntarily in order for it to be used in court. So what evidence exists that is relevant but inadmissible? Anything subjective, gut feeling, something told under duress, that sort of thing.

“ a brilliant QC”…

To those unfamiliar, in the U.K. and Canada the “Queen’s Counsel”, an honour given to a senior and distinguished barrister in recognition of an outstanding career during Queen Victoria’s reign. K.C. means King’s Counsel. K.C.

In Canada, the honourary title of Queen’s Counsel, or QC, is used to recognize Canadian lawyers for exceptional merit and contribution to the legal profession. These barristers or attorneys/lawyers are responsible for bringing legal cases to court for prosecution. They must need a brilliant one to process the litany of alleged crimes to be charged. I have absolutely no doubt there are many capable and they have alright had decisions made in this regard.

“ a very thick brief📇⚖️“…

A brief is a written legal document used in various legal adversarial systems that is presented to a court arguing why one party to a particular case should prevail. Upon a barrister devolves the duty of taking charge of a case when it comes into court, but all the preliminary work, such as the drawing up of the case, serving papers, marshalling evidence, etc., is performed by a solicitor. The delivery of a brief to counsel gives him authority to act for his client in all matters which the litigation involves.The brief was probably so called from its first being only a copy of the original writ. From wiki. So given the number and brevity of likely charges, one can only begin to imagine the amount of paperwork, evidence , briefs etc etc etc

“as tight as a ducks@$$ under water’ ma’am”

LG and HMTQ in conversation, he is reassuring her, the evidence with corresponding charges is wrapped up solid.Her reply follows below.

“one is reluctant you understand!

She is reluctant to give the official go ahead, with all the unknown reverberations that could occur across the country, the U.K. , the Commonwealth and the globe, especially in light of Brexit. She has so much on her shoulders. Let’s do remember HMTQ in our prayers.🙏🏻🙏🏻

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

October 24/2019 0605 C

This worked PG….thank you😊❤️❤️❤️

——————

96: Oct 24

💜RESUBMITTING THE RIGHT RIDDLE NOW💜

MM Anon

MM ANON …… six weeks in rehab🤫……… Invictus recovery …… loyally remembered …… unhook the Tender…… burned boats……political ambition …… nutmegs WH moment … sugar queen…… 🎼” When I was young it seemed that life …“🎼 …… The casting of the Runes……” EU-bloody-REKA old thing “…… safe inside WC…… “a strategic move to Winchester 📵”

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

October 24/2019

1130 hrs CST

six weeks in rehab🤫

Rehab on the dl as the kids used to say. Down low, secretly. The emoji is the shhhh emoji, so it’s information to be kept quiet. So is that what visits to L.A. are now? Rehab? Is it compelled rehab?? She truly does need help, l also think a full medical and psychiatric work-up/assessment would be prudent. A long history of paranoia, people medicate themselves when experiencing psychotic symptoms. Unsure when this will happen. Harry needs family rehab, medical care, therapist but most of all time away from madam, of any appearances with her. Time to recharge his personal batteries, get his mojo back, as MM ANON used the word mojo, the other day!😊

Invictus recovery

Invictus, Harry’s blood sweat and l am certain many tears were the impetus for him creating Invictus. Invictus from the Latin means undefeated or unconquered. It is the perfect word for describing the individuals who are veterans with visible or not visible post war trauma. The next a Invictus Games are you be held at The Hague, The Netherlands in May, 2020. Harry did a quick visit there while madam was having her fauxmegnancy. This organization has helped uncounted veterans and their families, through the games, the camaraderie etc. He has done extremely well and he should be very very proud of helping sooo many including himself!

… loyally remembered November 11/2019, the eleventh hour, the eleventh day of the eleventh month we all or should stop to remain those veterans and those fallen in battle for our freedoms. It is always a day that many attend services, the Royal family always do, they spread out and cover various places. Harry is Colonel-in-Chief of the Army Air Corps (AAC), and as HMTQ Personal Aide-de-Camp. He will be dressed in his dress uniform and likely attend several places. I think it might be especially poignant and painful this year due to the suicide of his close friend, who helped train him for the South Pole adventure, Jules Roberts.

unhook the Tender…

Unhook means to open or take/out down like curtain pins, or bra. Tender can mean gentle, Tender is also money, called legal tender. So who is taking down money and from where for what reason? Tender l just read can also be a battery or electrical charger. As l think now, this may be a right metaphor MM ANON has given. Unhook the tender, at any point you want a spark or a charge it’s ready and waiting! Voila, LG has all the evidence collected, case tight, all i‘S dotted and t’s crossed. Everything ship shape, nothing remotely left to chance, right down to MI6 watching over a Grandpa Tom in Mexico. Kids , it’s as close as it gets, hang on!

burned boats

H

Burned bridges can be literal actually burning a bridge but it can also mean damage or break your future options, connections,reputation, opportunities, by some act, particularly intentionally. Even if you fired from a job take care not to burn your bridges with unseemly comments on the way out, since you never know who you will meet again. Here we have burned boats, has madam lost any and all contacts in her yachting world, source of money. She very likely has, no one would be interested now, especially wealthy men, they don’t want the obvious scandal that would come if they were seen and perchance she be recognized. The obvious reason is her age, she , as my cousin who has a horse ranch would say, she been ridden hard and put away wet! You must rubdown a horse after riding. She’s aged and not well, her hobbies have really taken their toll.

political ambition

It has been rumoured for quite sometime that madam has political aspirations and even rumoured of her taking a run for the White House where the president of America has his office and home. All l can do is 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣

nutmegs WH moment

Madam met BO when he was President, she was the plus one guest of Ron Burkle , of SoHo. I wonder what on earth she had to do, to get that plus one invite!!!!🤢🤢🤢 Likely nothing she has not done numerous times before!

sugar queen…

Madams cult-like brainwashed ‘fans’ mostly younger and a certain demographic. They, l don’t know why, are called sugars. They worship her she is their queen, they fully believe she should be the next Queen. Since doing these riddles l have, sadly, learned of the ‘urban dictionary’, here is their definition,💜💜” A bisexual male that is stylish and easy to talk to to usually attractive and full of talent and advice 💜💜 A person who supports any and all activities (past, present, and future) done by the former z-list actress and current failure-as-a-royal and by several puns involving the name “Sussex.” Sugars owe their unfortunate allegiance to a number of factors, including (but not limited to) congenitally-low IQ, complete ignorance of etiquette and royal protocol, an excess of entitlement, self-esteem at a level warranted by godhood (with nothing to back it up), and the feeble defenses of “Jealousy!” and “Racist!” when challenged.💜💜 Actually, they are pretty much lower-rent clones of their low-rent diva goddess. I just can’t believe this sorry folks l am as shocked as you will be reading this!! The items between the Purple Hearts are from the urban dictionary!!They have actually MADE UP A WORD JUST FOR MADAM!

🎼” When I was young it seemed that life …“🎼

Life was just for fun… This song, All By Myself, has been covered/performed by many, my favourite being Celine Dion. The song talk about being young, casual sex, flings, and getting older. The entire premise of the song is someone who desperately does not want to be alone and grow old alone. This is our Harry. I won’t repeat his history, relationships, we all know all of it. Once madam is no longer in the picture, incarceration, moved whatever, he will begin the process of figuring out who he is after this experience. He will need a lot of time talking with a professional to help him, his pre-existing depression, PTSD compounded with the trauma of the last two years. He is young, healthy, has a big family who live him dearly. I have hope for him to find his love and have a real family of his own. Now l am going to hav this song in my head all day!

The casting of the Runes

Let’s educate ourselves on what Runes means. Wiki tells me it has several meanings, l am only familiar with it as stones. a letter of an ancient Germanic alphabet, related to the Roman alphabet. Wiki

a mark or letter of mysterious or magic significance.

small stones, pieces of bone, etc., bearing runes, and used as divinatory symbols Casting the Runes“ is a short story written by the English writer M.R. James The story briefly wiki Mr. Edward Dunning is a researcher for the British Museum. At the beginning of the story he has recently reviewed The Truth of Alchemy by a Mr. Karswell, an alchemist and occultist. Afterwards he begins seeing the name John Harrington displayed wherever he goes. He learns that Harrington also reviewed Karswell’s work and died in a freak accident not long after.

Harrington’s brother helps Dunning to discover that Karswell cursed both men by slipping them a piece of paper with some runes on it. They deduce that the curse, once cast, will cause the bearer to die in three months. They track down Karswell a day before the curse is set to kill Dunning and manage to return the runes to him. Karswell dies the next day, killed by a stone that fell from scaffolding around St. Wulfram’s Church in Abbeville.

I couldn’t shorten it and do it justice. So basically madam has cast the runes, a horrible spell on Harry, he has suffered under it through it and his family has been exerting every possible intervention to help him, gather intel and evidence of alleged crimes. There will be justice, it is coming. JUSTICE IS COMING RACHEL!! TICK TOCK 🕰

” EU-bloody-REKA old thing “…

Eureka is what the miners used to shout when they struck gold, oil, diamonds etc. Here MM ANON has written EU-bloody-REKA old thing. They are talking about Brexit and what the nation has been going through ever since the votes came in. Lots is still unknown and everyone is on edge, to put it mildly.

safe inside WC

Safe has at least two meaning, one is to be kept from harm, contented or a metal device or strong box that holds valuables, jewels cash, papers, wills, bonds etc etc. I am certain there is a safe in Windsor Castle ie WC. HMTQ is also safe at WC, there are plenty of RPO’S to protect her from anything and everything. I am very interested in what is the topic MM ANON is sharing with us. What’s in the safe?? Photos, dvd(s), recordings, on and on! Something of importance that’s for certain!

“a strategic move to Winchester 📵”

The emoji indicates blockage of cell phone/mobile device usage. Two places l know of for certain hospitals and prisons. The city of Winchester has both, and they are right across the street from each other. Clever eh? Rehab in one, no outside communication, alone with her thoughts, no hobbies no cope, it’s going to be a personal hell to detox. I’ve seen it many times, it’s horrible. Strategic in terms of containing for personal safety, not harm self, no contact with others, no news or what’s happening in the world etc etc. GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦 October 24/2019 1315 hrs CST

Thank you dear PG😊💜💜💜

——————

[bhumblebih]

Into the Unknown (Bang Chan au)

Genre: angst+fluff

Warnings: I suck at this pls bear the shitty fic i wrote. I just thought i could do something lol

You know how there are days, where you just feel super lazy and don’t feel like doing anything because you’re just so done with everything. With life, with opportunities that you could’ve taken if you had made a different decision in the past. It all comes down to that one butterfly effect that changed it all. This was exactly how Kara felt until a special someone comes into her life.

It all started when she moved away for University. She had chosen to move to a different country for her Bachelors in hopes of finding new, better people to befriend with and also because she wanted a change in her lifestyle. She could’ve gotten into a university of the same worth in her hometown but triggered by the changes caused by some of her decisions, she decides to go to a University where she knew no one, in hopes of finding a new group and ultimately thinking that it’d change her life for the better.

The first semester goes by quickly and she realizes that her friend group is totally different from her and its been very hard to make new friends, so she just sticks with the people that she met on the orientation day. She was totally devastated by the fact that this was, in fact a hasty decision and that it’d have been way better if she had joined the University in her hometown. At least she’d have been able to meet her friends frequently. Deeply depressed by this realization, she continues to live her life like this until she met someone that forced her to think differently. 

Waking up at 7:00 made her regret her decisions even more as she had to take the bus for her to make it on time for her first lecture, which to her dismay was the lecture she hated the most. On her way to the class, she realizes that she forgot that she had lend her book to her groupmate for an assignment they were working on. 

She calls her friend and says “Hey Hyena, the class will start in about 5 minutes. When will you come?” to which her friend, Hyena replies “Hey, I wont be  coming today because I’m sick but don’t worry, I had Chan take it with him so he’ll give it to you as soon as he can so let me know when you get it.” 

The conversation soon ended with Kara telling Hyena to get well soon. Chan and Hyena were neighbors and he is also Hyena’s childhood bestfriend. Kara and Chan never got along. Kara always thought that Chan had a personal vendetta to tease Kara as much as he can. And as for Chan, the fact that someone other than him is getting close to his bestfriend didn’t sit well with him so he just thought he’d do something to scare off the new girl. Thing with Chan is, even though he had other close friends but he was the closest to Hyena because of spending a huge part of his life with her. He experienced most of his firsts with her and vice versa. Also being in different departments made him think that their friendship would fall apart as he had seen his other friends slowly get distant, to the point, they rarely talk or meet now. This kind of stuff scared Chan because he thought of losing friends as a segment of his life falling apart. 

Kara looked at her phone again to see only 5 minutes were left till the lecture started and she was basically losing her shit because she didn’t want to get embarrassed again in front of so many people. Thing with this professor was that he was very serious about teaching and just wanted the students to be attentive and actually gain something good out of this class instead of cramming. But Kara, clouded by the negative thoughts and absolutely regretting her decisions, put no heed to this. Only 2 minutes eft, and Chan was still not here but so was the professor. After 5 minutes, she saw him running towards her with her book in his hand. 

“Hi, sorry about being a bit late. I couldn’t find a spot to park and came as fast as I can” said Chan while breathing heavily. He was actually hoping to mend his relationship with Kara after having a really talk with Hyena about it. Maybe they could be a group of 3 and just enjoy their university life as it is. After all, Chan did believe that everything happens for a reason and maybe Kara coming into their life was a good thing? 

Kara was fuming when Chan finally approached her. She was sure that he did this just to spite her so she’d get embarrassed in front of everybody. Thinking this, she angrily said,  “Don’t ‘Hi’ me! I never thought you’d be so petty to come late just to get me embarrassed. You could’ve just told Hyena that you didn’t want to do this! Next time at least try to come up with a better excuse. Everyone knows that you travel by bus.”  

Chan was dumbstruck by what he heard. He thought that she’d be thanking him for bringing her book and they can finally start off with a fresh start but boy, was he wrong. He had recently bought a bike to travel around because his apartment was kind of far and traveling by bus just seemed like a hassle to him because it took a lot of time to reach his stop. He saw Kara angrily walk away towards her class. He thought maybe he had done something wrong but he just couldn’t understand what it was. Thinking this, he went to the cafeteria to meet his friends.

Kara enters the class and she is relieved to see that the professor hasn’t arrived yet. She sits in the second row, next to her other groupmate, Seungmin. He was a good friend of Kara and they got along pretty well. If anything, Seungmin and Hyena were the only good friends Kara had. She didn’t interact with anyone else enough to be good friends with anyone else. “Wow, its very rare to see the professor come late. I wonder what’s taking him so long?” Kara muttered while opening the book to the topic they were supposed to study today. 

“Yeah but look he just messaged in the group that he would schedule a makeup class for today later this week. Damn! he could’ve messaged earlier so i could sleep a few more hours. I’ve got a practice baseball match for the sports week next month.” Seungmin said sadly. Hearing this, Kara lost all her motivation to study. Could it get any worse?, she thought. 

“That’s stupid. Messaging us last minute that he isn’t going to come. Are we a joke to him?” Kara went on to rant about it. Seeing this, Seungmin smiled to himself. He just thought how cute Kara was being, ranting about all that stuff. He always thought that she is a nice person who thinks too much. He hoped that she’d lose that ‘I’m so done with everything’ look from her face. He always tried his best to cheer up Kara as much as he can. 

“I know its pretty frustrating but isn’t it good in a sense? We can spend some time together since I’ve got nothing else to do. Do you want to go to the cafe?” asked Seugmin hopefully. “Sure. I haven’t had my breakfast yet.” Kara replied, feeling a bit better that at least she wouldn’t have to spend all this free time alone. 

Walking towards the Cafeteria, she laughs at a dad joke Seungmin made when she realizes that she forgot to message Hyena about the book. She quickly messages Hyena and lets her know that she got the book. After a while, they reach the cafeteria and Kara can see from a distance that Chan sat there with his group of friends. She tries to sit as far as she can from their table only to end up finding the only spot lest was beside where Chan sat. 

“Oh god, its been so long since we spend time together. I’m glad professor didn’t come today!” Seungmin exclaimed. “You’re right! It has been long. I really miss the time where we used to chill around and stuff, yknow?” Kara replied.

“Yeah, those were the fun times but anyways I have this practice match later today. Do you want to come watch me play? I heard the buses will go later than usual today because of the upcoming sports week.” Seungmin asked. 

“Oh sure. My introverted self wouldn’t want to interact with anyone else so I’d rather watch you play than sit somewhere alone and have to make weird eye contacts with strangers.” Kara laughed. “That’s amazing then. I can walk you to your bus later as well since I’m planning to go to a gaming zone with Chan later. I’ll be leaving with him.” Seungmin said. “Oh, but the busses would’ve left by then. How do you plan to go to the gaming zone?” Kara asked curiously. She was hoping that it wasn’t what she thought it was. “Oh Hyena didn’t tell you? Chan recently bought a bike which is so cool at least we won’t have to wait for the bus.” Seungmin exclaimed happily. Whereas Kara wanted the ground to swallow her. She was so embarrassed over the fact that she didn’t give him time to explain his part of the story and she outright bashed him about something he wasn’t even wrong about. “That’s nice. And no, she didn’t tell me about it.” Kara said sadly once she realized that she was in the wrong. She made a mental note to apologize to Chan about what she said but deep down she still thought that maybe he did something wrong because in her head, it all seemed too good to be true. For Chan to go out of his way to give her book just didn’t seem true.

Time skip to the practice match

Kara sat in the bleachers waiting for the match to start. She saw Seungmin waving at her from afar and she waved back happily hoping for him to win when suddenly hears a familiar laugh from her right. She looks over and sees Chan screaming “OI FELIX! YOU GOT IT BRO!” to a blonde haired guy who looked embarrassed. Chan sat down next to Kara excitedly until he looked to his left to see Kara looking at him, annoyed by his screaming. Chan wanted to do it again just to annoy her but remembered that he had a talk with Hyena about how he will try to be nicer to Kara and decided not to do it and gave Kara an apologetic look. Seeing this, Kara feels bad and decides that this might be the right time to apologize to him. 

“Hey Chan, I wanted to apologize for being rude to you in the hallway. I didn’t know you had bought a bike until Seungmin told me about it.” Kara said apologetically. This warmed Chan’s heart and made him think that maybe Kara wasn’t as bad as he thought. “It’s okay! It is partly my fault for teasing you so much. Obviously you’d think that. But I really hope we can start over?” Chan asked hoping for her to give him a chance. “No, its my fault too for never making an effort to fix things between us but yes, I’d love to start over.” Kara replied happily. 

After this, they happily rooted for their friends to win and Chan even bought popcorn and drinks for the match. Kara was overwhelmed by the fact how genuine Chan was. He was a carefree guy who deeply cared for his friends. They later exchanged phone numbers because of how much fun they had.

Time skip to a few months later    

One Sunday night, Kara wakes up in the middle of the night with an ache in her heart. The same familiar ache that she got when she missed her old life and regrets making some decisions. She missed her family, her friends, her home and basically everything she could think of. She felt horrible over the fact how she has misjudged her decision of moving somewhere else would resolve her short term problems. Even though the past few months have been amazing, she still missed her hometown. The past few months, she’s been meeting Chan and Hyena everyday where they’d make short trips to the park or the pet cafe near their university or just hang out and chill in the campus somewhere. Her life did get a bit better than before but she just wasn’t in the right headspace at the moment. Kara decides to take a walk to get rid of the ache in her heart. She walks to the park near her apartment and buys chocolate milk on her way. When she reaches the park, she sits on a swing and thinks about how drastically her life changed just from that one decision. Oh, how she wished her life would go as she planned it to be.  

Chan was walking home after a long game of football with his friends. His apartment was close by so he just walked to the football ground. On his way, he passes the park that him, Hyena and Kara sometimes hang out in. He sees someone on the swing sipping a juice or something. He couldn’t see properly because of the dim lights. He thinks that it might be Kara because of the body structure but he wasn’t sure. So to confirm, he messages Kara where she is to which she replies that she was in the park to get some fresh air. Chan had noticed this before as well that Kara frequently goes to the park to get some “fresh air”. He goes over to the swings and sits beside her. Kara looks shocked to see him. She didn’t think he’d show up like that but she doesn’t say anything.

“What’s on your mind?” Chan asks. “It’s nothing. I just came out to drink chocolate milk.” Kara mutters sadly. Hearing this, Chan is sure that something isn’t right. “You know you can talk to me right? I don’t like seeing my friends sad. You can share it with me if you want to. I wont judge.” Chan says genuinely wanting her to open up so he can help her. Kara looks at his eyes and she realizes that he’s being genuine and she feels warmth in her heart knowing that someone is willing to spend their time in making her feel better. She ends up telling him everything. By the end of it, she’s crying and Chan hugs in hopes of calming her down. He knew that she was in pain and wanted to do something about it. “Come on, I have to show you something.” Chan says. Kara looks up at him confused as to why would he randomly say that but nonetheless, stands up and follows him to his bike. 

They travel for about 15 minutes when Chan suddenly stops and makes her close her eyes. He leads her to a high ground where they can see the whole city from above. They sit down near an edge and Kara is too mesmerized to say anything so Chan starts talking. “I know that it can be hard for you to adjust to a new environment. And that whatever you planned didn’t come true but this is life. Its unpredictable. We all have our ups and downs but you know what the best part about it is? Its that its never going to be the same. Things change. Its sad now for you but it wont be the same always. Sometimes you have to let go of the picture of what you thought life would be and learn to find joy in the story you’re living. So don’t worry, you’ve got me and I’ll always be there for you. You’re not alone. And like I always say “Don’t be sad, Bitches need cash”” 

Kara laughs at what he said but deep down what he said touched her heart. It all seemed so genuine and she started to realize that she had to look at life from a different perspective and maybe life wasn’t too bad. But one thing was for sure that the guy sitting beside her has her heart and she doesn’t regret moving here and meeting this pure soul.

[btsybrkr]

What A Time To Be At Home!: The Best And Worst Coronacontent The Internet Has To Offer

Remember that joke that’s been around for ages, but was being told literally everywhere back in 2019? The one that went something like, “I hate it when people ask me where I’ll be in a year’s time - I don’t have 2020 vision!”?

Well, I bloody wish someone did.

In fact, in early January, I wrote out my own predictions for the decade ahead right here on my blog. They were obviously entirely hypothetical and - I thought - ridiculous. They were just a series of daft ideas that I thought I could take the piss out of, in the hope that people might read it and take a second out of their day to do an amused little nose exhale for me. But now, even the post-apocalyptic TV show ideas I pitched in that piece seem less ‘far-off dystopian chaos’, and more like they could be pleasant additions to the BBC Summer schedule.

The world is in the throes of a global pandemic, the likes of which haven’t been seen since… I don’t know, The Black Plague, maybe? As a result of that, the instructions have been clear: stay home, save lives. 

At first, the thought of being given a period of Government-sanctioned laziness seemed like a dream to many. We could write our autobiographies! Learn Klingon! Build ourselves a whole new house! But six weeks in, it appears to have started messing with the collective consciousness of the human race. Brains are fried, your Weekly Screen Time is up 103%, stomachs are full to the brim with banana bread and dalgona coffee, and certain celebrities’ egos are in a fight to the death with their common sense. In a time when we’re all supposedly doing nothing, there’s still so much going on. 

With that in mind, I thought we could recognise some of the things we’ve seen online that have kept us talking in lockdown, not just because of Coronavirus, but in spite of it. 

Welcome to the first (but hopefully not annual) What A Time To Be At Home! awards. The WATTBAH!’s, if you like.

The ‘Why On Earth Did You Think This Was A Good Idea?’ Award

Over the last few weeks, we’ve seen a sizable handful of blunders by the rich and famous that have, at worst, knocked them down a fair few places in our estimations and, at best, have left us scratching our heads, wondering what response they were expecting in the first place. 

With that in mind, it’s only right that this title goes to the original celebrity lockdown mistake: Gal Gadot’s ill-advised acapella cover of Imagine, featuring a variety of different Hollywood stars - not one of whom had the foresight to ask “are you sure this doesn’t make us look like complete arseholes?”, which, unfortunately, it absolutely does. 

Between the bizarre and insincere ‘I have a dream’-style speech at the beginning, the boldness of some of those featured to be quite clearly just taking the piss, and the fact everyone appears to be singing ever-so-slightly below the note without ever actually hitting it for the entirety of the song, this was tone-deaf in more ways than one. It’s even worse when you realise that this was posted less than one week into the lockdown, but then what would I know? Maybe madness sets in faster in multi-million dollar mansions. Probably because it echoes louder and bounces off the walls of your massive living room.

The ‘I Had To Suffer Through This, So You Do, Too’ Award

This award recognises content we’ve been witness to over the last few weeks that was so awful, so completely uncomfortable to watch, that after you’d gotten over the initial disbelief at what you’d just seen, you immediately had to send it to somebody you know, so that you can suffer through it together.

Despite how many celebrity lockdown moments have left me with my head in my hands over the last few weeks, this award could only go to a very recent contender - one which isn’t simply an embarrassing piece of celebrity lockdown content, but will likely haunt the inner corners of my brain long after this virus is simply a topic taught about in GCSE History lessons of the future. 

I am, of course, talking about Olly Murs. I’m talking about Pringlegate. I’m talking about Olly Murs removing the bottom of a can of Sour Cream and Onion Pringles to trick his own girlfriend into touching his penis. On video, on TikTok.

Twitter: @buckyw1ng

There’s something inherently quite chilling about Pringlegate. It might be something to do with the 10,000 watt grin on Olly’s face as we watch him carefully maneuver a tin opener around the bottom of the can, or perhaps it’s just the question of how long he’d been sat there holding it around his naked penis as he and his girlfriend watched a film, patiently waiting for the moment to strike. Perhaps it’s the way the video freezes as she reaches over for a Pringle, allowing time for Olly Murs’ to add in an audio clip of himself, shouting “SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND”. 

Maybe it’s the uncontrollable show of amusement he launches into as she snatches her hand back in shock, laughing away, heartily, as if to say “Ha! You thought it was a normal can of Pringles, but it was actually my PENIS covered in Pringles crumbs! You just got PUNKED!”, like it was all simply a clever ruse. 

Above all else, I think the most uncomfortable thing about it is that I can’t help but feel like all bets are off in 2020, and that this is a fairly tame warm-up for things to come.

So, Olly Murs, you are inarguably the rightful winner of the ‘I Had To Suffer Through This, So You Do, Too’ award. Congratulations! Don’t do it again, yeah?

The ‘Are You Actually Aware Of These Words Coming Out Of Your Mouth?’ Award

I’ve said some stupid things since this lockdown started. Personally, I put it down to the lack of social interaction, which I think might be frying my brain a little bit, or at least that’s what the ornament of a turkey that sits on my kitchen windowsill told me the other day. However, I don’t think I or anybody I know has said anything even one fraction-of-an-iota as void of intelligent thought as Vanessa Hudgens’ terrible opinions on social distancing, shared in a now-infamous Instagram live last month. 

“It’s a virus,” she clarified, helpfully, before going on to explain, “I get it. I respect it.” 

I’m sure your respect means the world to it, Vanessa, but do you ‘get’ it?

“But even if everybody gets it, like… yeah… people are gonna die,” she explains, in a tone so chirpy that the word ‘die’ might as well be replaced by the phrase ‘have such a bloody lovely old time’, “which is terrible, but, like… inevitable?” 

In all fairness, death is inevitable, but I don’t know if suggesting speeding up that process for thousands of people because you were disappointed that Coachella was cancelled is an equally logical take.

After a brief - and probably quite profound - moment of self-reflection, she laughs “I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t be doing this right now”. Oh, you think? Which bit? Just holding these insane ideas, or actually broadcasting them to your 39.1 million Instagram followers? 

She did post a video the day after, clarifying that - despite what she said - she is staying at home, and is urging others to do the same. I guess she does respect the virus after all. Now, if everyone could hurry up, catch it and die from it, so that she can go to Coachella 2021, Vanessa Hudgens might respect you, too. 

I guess We’re All In This Together, after all.

The Show Of Support Award

I’ve already talked a lot about the rich and famous here, so maybe it’s time to take a break from that madness - although, I get it, I respect it - and have a look at how the rest of our lives look at the moment.

One weekly occurrence that seems to be set to stick around is the weekly round of applause for the NHS. Whilst it’s nothing short of blood-boilingly annoying seeing Boris Johnson absent-mindedly clapping in celebration of a service that he recently admitted he hadn’t even noticed the strain on until he, himself, nearly died of the virus, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the rest of us getting involved. If anything, it’s heart-warming to see the videos of NHS staff being applauded by neighbours as they leave for work, and to hear the cheers echoing through the streets at 8pm every Thursday. There’s a lot of people being quite cynical about it. We obviously know it’s not going to stop Coronavirus in its tracks, but sometimes it’s just nice to be nice, alright?

One thing I’ve noticed recently is how many people have adopted different noise-making strategies, possibly in an effort to effectively boost their support by a factor of 300%. Banging pots and pans together appears to be the most popular, but the winner of this award saw your pots and pans and said “how sweet”, before showing us how it’s really done.

I present to you, a genius. The ultimate hype-man.

Twitter: “a deeply disturbed national psyche” - @willuminare

There’s something so chaotic and angry about the energy in this video, just one man, a cricket bat, and a wheelie bin, banging away to show his gratitude. Just living in the moment. I wish the neighbour who’d captured it on camera had caught more of it, or at least just enough to edit the footage with Electric Youth’s soaring synth anthem  ‘A Real Hero’ from the soundtrack of the movie Drive against it.

I’ve been trying to learn to play the keytar in lockdown, to near enough no avail. Maybe at 8pm next Thursday, I’ll just take it outside and smash it against the pavement. You know, for the NHS.

Honourable Mentions: The Very Best In Coronacontent

It’s not all been so questionable - there’s been a lot of uplifting, funny, positive and thoughtful things shared online over the past few weeks. John Krasinski’s YouTube series Some Good News has provided a much-appreciated contrast from the bleakness of traditional current affairs programmes. There’s five weeks worth of episodes on his YouTube channel at the moment, so I would definitely recommend checking it out, especially if you feel like you need a lift! 

Over on Twitter, there’s been a lot to laugh about, as ‘front camera comedians’ are well and truly in their element (my personal favourite recently has been Alistair Green), as well as plenty of other users who are utilising their free time to create some brilliant stuff - this six-part opera based on a 2007 Facebook argument by Archie Henderson is genuinely one of the funniest things I’ve seen in weeks.

Twitter: “I made a six-act opera out of a conversation between some 14 year olds on my Facebook from 2007″ - @jazzemu_

All in all, these are obviously bizarre times that we’re living in. We don’t know how many more weeks of lockdown we’re going to have, when we’ll get back to normal, or even if ‘normal’ will mean something completely different from now on. 

What we do know is that the internet, and everyone on it - whoever they are or whatever they’re saying - will continue to surprise us, inform us, entertain us, provide a place for our quizzes and conversations, and keep us together in some sense, when we have no choice but to be apart. 

Thanks to anyone who’s read this far. I hope that you and your friends and families are keeping well, and that you took even a slight shred of lockdown enjoyment from even one thing I’ve said over the past couple thousand words! 

Finally, before I go, I thought we might share a little song. It goes like this:

Imagine there’s no heaven....

if you like, can follow me on twitter here or instagram here :-)

[fuzed-hostage]

RainbowSix l Siege

Doc and Montagne have been planning a date night for weeks and just can’t catch a break! After numerous attempts, they settle on cuddling but get carried away.

Rated: E [ Some Doc alone time, They finally get to ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) !! , definitely nsfw ] Parings: Montagne/Doc, Bandit/Jäger [ Mention ]

     It felt like every time there was a break in the madness that was Rainbow, something would suddenly, inexplicably, unfortunately happen right as Gustave was about to send a text to Gilles. He’d be seated in his office, reclining in the not-so-comfortable chair with nothing to do but kill time. Whatever appointments had been made that day were over and done with, it’s nearing sundown, and he’s waiting for the clock to strike ten so his shift could end.

     Fingers would tap the same message each time [>>Want to go out for dinner in an hour?<<] and then BOOM the door would burst open. If not that, he’d get a phone call, or the computer screen alerted him of an incoming message. Mozzie ate shit riding his bike with Mute on the back, Fuze and Jäger had a mishap in the workshop, Bandit tased Tachanka ( it did nothing to him ) and Kapkan stapled the German to the wall in retaliation, etc.

     On Montagne’s end, it was no different outside of the subject matters regarding whatever emergencies he was called to handle. Given his easy going nature, ability to break up fights, and calmly knock some sense into people’s heads, it was no wonder he got picked before anyone else. Lion started another fight with the SAS, Maestro and Valkyrie are bickering about who’s camera gadget is cooler, Ela called Echo a lazy fuck and now she’s being tormented by Yokai; the list goes on.

     Whenever they did get to meet up, it was on the clock and quite often during a stupid incident they both had to handle. In the case of Mozzie and Mute, the Brit didn’t lean into a turn like he should have and their crash nearly took off Thermite’s shins. Poor Mute took the brunt of the impact, whereas the Aussie had jumped back up on his feet to curse at a pissed off FBI agent threatening to torch his ride. It almost came to blows until the GIGN tag-team showed up.

     Knowing Mozzie, he bailed off of the bike prematurely out of habit and left his buddy to become one with the earth. That’ll teach them both to either never ride together again or to slow down a little and work out the details more. Well... maybe. Since when has the pint sized daredevil ever slowed down before in his entire life? Survey says: Never.

~~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~~~~

     Planning in advanced wasn’t very helpful either, what with how unpredictable the two love birds’ schedules were. Montagne would have a day off while Doc was knee deep in overtime. They also were’t ever deployed together and that just made the medic mad. He could remain professional throughout an operation while Gilles was there! Up until the larger man was hurt and then he’d probably lose his mind that is. 

     Back then he was a lot more level headed when it was just the GIGN operating within France. With Rainbow, there were ten times more shit to factor in on top of the obvious risks that the job explicitly entailed. More CTU’s, more men and women, a lot more ground to cover, an expansive array of new surprises. Tension sometimes ran high within the mixed teams, not everybody knew how to leave their baggage back at base, and it all felt like a glorified armed daycare.

     Which part of a mission would he rather be in? Right up in the action, stressed out about Gilles, and potentially becoming a liability by slipping into tunnel vision quicker or clawing at his hair, glued to the radio, and picking at his lip until it bled? He’d hurt less people back at base but the anxiety was significantly magnified and his colleagues were beginning to notice.

     Out on the field is where he believed he could make the most difference in life and death situations but Rainbow needed him back home terribly as well. Training accidents that could become permanent damage was mended by his expert hands, sickness ( be it from terrorist chemicals or natural means ) was eased by his knowledge. Montagne, as much as he wanted his love by his side, preferred that the good doctor wasn’t assigned to his squad if it was more productive.

     It used to not be that way though. One or the other would insist on coming along during the time they were dancing around each other not knowing how to interpret the signals being given. Rumors spread like wildfire about how obvious their love was and that someone should shove them in a closet so they could work out the sexual tension. There were even attempts to get them alone at a bar after arriving with a group so that liquid courage would spill the beans in the form of Je t’aime Gustave and Je t’aime aussi Gilles but to no avail.

     Montagne could hold his liquor and wine brought forth all of Doc’s pent up exhaustion, leading to an early bed time. Having the medic drink something else was like pulling teeth as his response was always “I’d like to remain in control of my mind and body, merci.” while the taller Frenchman chuckled. Sometimes, however, he’d try a sip of whatever Gilles had accepted. It was fifty-fifty on whether or not he’d like it but zero chance of him ordering it again. Doc was a hard nut to crack but it all paid off in the end.

~~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~~~~ 

     “I am getting really tired of all this madness. It’s like we’re cursed!” Gustave ranted, throwing his hands up and knocking a stapler off of his desk. He looked down at the damn thing like it had offended him by toppling over when it should have just remained put. “It is rather perplexing. Has there been a full moon recently?” Came Gilles’ calm voice as he picked up the stapler to place it back where it belonged. All his lover did was roll his chocolate brown eyes and sigh. Everyday felt like it had a full moon attached to it, bringing forth the age old curse emergency services workers dreaded. Tack that along with the Q-word and you’d have a recipe for disaster.

     “I heard there was a nice Japanese place in town. Why don’t we-” Sadly, the shield operator was cut off by the ding of his phone. He looked down at the pocket it was contained in with a sigh that starkly contrasted the fury building up inside of Gustave’s red face. With the shake of his head, Montagne placed a quick kiss to his lovers lips and departed, not knowing that his partner was secretly daydreaming about strangling whomever pried them apart.

     This trivial text happened to be IQ snitching about Caveira’s apparent stalking of Glaz. The sniper was well known for spotting the shit that nobody thought twice about. Shifts in daily routines, objects moved out of their usual place, mood swings, and, of course, his uncanny ability to pick up on when he’s being followed. So far he’s caught Taina six times and she’s pissed about it, refusing to give up even though she knows it’s childish. This will take hours of conversation, some translation, and bringing Timur in to resolve the conflict.

     Meanwhile, Doc has treated a nasty gash Seamus acquired while teaching Aria how to cook traditional Scottish dishes. They both share a love for food and wanted to surprise their fellows with what they’ve learned from one another. Good friends, those two. She’s even given Sledge some dating advice when he accidentally let slip that there’s another guy he’s interested in. While it was nice to hear that this injury was just an accident and not some rage fueled wound, Gustave wished it never happened. For one, he doesn’t like seeing his colleagues hurt and two, he needs this alone time with Gilles.

~~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~~~~

     It’s been nearly a month since he’s shared a bed with Montagne and everyone’s starting to notice how grumpy Gustave is getting. Hell, he can’t even sit with the guy in a friendly setting let alone a romantic one! Quick kisses and light touches ( such as the brushing of their hands together or a shoulder squeeze ) are all he gets and that’s unacceptable. Gilles is on a mission this time in Russia with Buck, Fuze, Jackal, and Gridlock. He’d also planned a coming over the night he got deployed for takeout and a makeout sesh that’s obviously not going to happen now.

     The upset on Gustave’s face at how badly the universe is treating them is almost palpable upon the doctor’s tensed up form. He’s had six cups of strong coffee, going on seven, and it’s barely even ten o’clock. Breakfast is quiet in the cafeteria at Hereford Base until he hears Bandit announcing his arrival. “Man, you look like you really need to get laid, Gus.” For a guy that doesn’t shrink away from Kapkan’s frightening gaze, the look Doc gives him makes the hair upon the back of Dominic’s neck stand straight up.

     He mumbles some sort of excuse to get away, steps back quickly, and departs while everyone tries to avoid eye contact when Gustave glowers at them all from his table. The rest of his day is spent talking only when it is necessary and retreating to his room immediately upon its conclusion. The staff posted for night watch better figure out how to operate without him unless the patient is literally going to die if he’s not there. He’s got faith in them only because he wants one uninterrupted night to shave off some neglect.

    Rook and Twitch went out with Blitz and IQ for an evening of casual drinking so he’s got the GIGN quarters all to himself. It’d be nice if his lover was here, but a dildo with similar length and girth will do. Gustave is wearing one of Gilles’ shirts that had been worn for half a day and wasn’t quite dirty yet. It smelled of his cologne and was a size too big to fit him, but that didn’t matter. He’s taken up residence in his lover’s room, they often do this when one was away, it was comforting and arousing all the same depending on what the intention was for this consensual invasion.

     Even though he didn’t need to keep the noise level down for a while, Gustave had already decided on forcing himself to be as quiet as he could. Preparation was done a bit quickly, fingers pushing in and scissoring right away with a groan of need tumbling from his lips. He’s touch starved to all hell and knows he’ll regret that come morning when the ache kicks in. Squatting with his feet planted flush with the floor ( thank the slav squad for helping his balance with that ) one hand holds the dildo steady while he sinks down onto it.

     It hurts going in and Doc doesn’t feel inclined to wait for proper adjustment until his cheeks meet the floorboards. “Fuck... Why did Six have to choose you again?” Montagne was an amazing operator, highly skilled, very sexy.. Get on with it Gustave. He can already see that perfectly sculpted body as if it were beneath him, holding a strong grip on both hips. It takes him longer than usual to come; soft thumping against the floor combined with muffled moans and uttered encouragements slurring into curses until a choked sound signals the end.

     He’ll sit there for a moment, still anchored onto the dildo with a shameful mess in front of him, and sighs when he finally catches his breath. It’s not the same but it is satisfying. After he cleans up and tucks himself into Montagne’s bed, the rest of his team has returned and gone their separate ways to conduct nightly rituals to get ready for sleep. He’ll greet them in the morning with a smile and a tired yawn.

~~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~~~~

     It’ll be a week before Gilles returns and during that time frame, Doc decided to ask Dominic ( of all people ) for advice. The German already knew he was dating his colleague, it was obvious as fuck, but felt inclined to help a friend in need. He kinda owed it to Gus after the crude comment in the cafeteria a few days ago. Out of all the wild things Bandit suggested, a vibrator worked the best as it was simple / discrete and pleasuring himself in the shower made cleanup so much easier. It all came down to timing those sessions right so that he wouldn’t have to be so worried about the noise.

     He spaces out masturbating with getting additional work done in preparation to have a clean slate in the foreseeable future. Bandit offers to give him a quickie here and there, but he refuses. Discussing it with his partner must come first even though they’ve talked a little bit about it before. Someone they trust would be a better alternative than trying to go at it alone. Montagne trusts Dom while Doc thinks he’s rather annoying but trusts him as well. If he didn’t, he’d not of spoken up about his sexual frustrations.

     Brunsmeier can and will take secrets like those to his grave along with other personal shit. They’ve often spent nights sitting together on the roof of the base venting about past trauma, talking about hardships, and laughing when one of them remembers something stupid that’s funny now that it was over. Bandit’s a good man, you just need to see through the jokes and rough exterior. If he’s pranking you more than others, he likes you.

     Inquiring a second time felt too awkward, so Gustave decided to wait out the last handful of days. He’ll be the first one up to the helicopter so that absolutely nothing can get in the way of their date night inquiry. Since they obviously couldn’t go anywhere, having a glass of wine or whatever Gilles felt like drinking in their quarters was a decent alternative. He’s ordered takeout and goddamn it this private time is going to happen!

     The deployed squad shuffles off the helicopter one by one, taking their gear with them. Thankfully nobody looks seriously injured so there goes that speed bump. Montagne is the last to have his boots touch the ground, he’d been talking with Jäger and thanking him for a smooth flight. He didn’t have to but it was a nice thing to do. Now, about that date... “Gilles. You and me, tonight, my room. I’ve got food and great wine.” Doc received a quick nod for confirmation and they carry on with renewed energy to finish the day. He can’t help but catch a sly grin and a thumbs up from Bandit when he passes by in search of his engineer.

     Dominic will probably ask questions come morning and, for once, Doc won’t mind. The man did help him without judgement or ridicule. He also kind of wondered how much experience Bandit’s had with how in depth he went with his explanations sometimes and the terminology. It was both embarrassing and intriguing to listen to if you ignored the gestures the German made with his hands. Gustave’s selection of the vibrator earlier was the absolute most vanilla shit apparently.

~~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~~~~ 

     Night falls and Gustave passes on custody of Rainbow’s health to the poor souls taking his place for the graveyard shift. He’s definitely not going to answer any calls now. Critical emergencies will have to wait too because getting untangled and yanking on boxers or pants won’t hide an erection. That would be the worst case scenario: Doc rushing to the medical wing with a bouncing hard on re-trapped within one or two layers of clothing trying to concentrate on saving a life when he knows everyone can see the obvious bulge will be a night he’ll never live down.

     It makes him shudder just thinking about it or is that Gilles behind him unintentionally breathing against his neck? They’re on his bed, naked save for their underwear, with a glass of red wine in their hands. The cheap takeout has been consumed a while ago and did a fair job at filling their bellies. Gustave has made himself comfortable, basking in the feeling of skin on skin contact and the gentle rise and fall of his lover’s chest. If their evening remained this way, he wouldn’t be all that upset. He is content listening to what happened during the mission through his love’s point of view. It went off without a hitch, Rainbow had caught the White Mask’s with their pants down.

     Speaking of that, Gustave decides he’s going to wiggle a bit and pretend he’s adjusting so his back won’t hurt and the weight distribution doesn’t make any limbs go numb. He gets a heavy sigh in return, a kiss to his neck, and that makes his cheeks flush a light pink hue. “I was so lonely while you were gone.” He mock pouts, tilting his head up to watch Montagne chuckle. Tending to all of the base’s boo boos and ouchies doesn’t count for having company and he knows that.

     “Were you now? I’m sorry to hear that.” It’s sincere, yes, but the underlying mischief in Gilles’ voice doesn’t go unnoticed. His wine glass has been set down and Gustave’s  is taken so that it too won’t get in the way. The hitch in the medic’s breath tells him all he needs to know the moment fingers dip beneath the thin layer of cloth that dares to say it’s held some kind of modesty. “Let me make up for it, oui?” He doesn’t even need to hear an actual verbal confirmation with how eager the younger man is by getting up and demanding for them to switch positions.

      It isn’t always this quick. Most nights they take their time, indulge in tantalizing touches, teasing one another for what felt like hours, making it all last as long as they can. Tonight won’t be that tame, Gilles won’t deny either of them what they’ve both wanted and could not have. Months, it’s been literal months since the were able to make love and not settle for a quick blow job or hasty wanking in Doc’s private office. They better use what time they have before it’s gone, claimed by a persistent curse neither know how to dispel.

     Montagne is on his feet and pulling his lover flush against his body, kissing him deeply each time he feels his lover’s lips part for more. Oxygen becomes a luxury for a short while, something they need but cannot have without separation. It’s not fair, really, but breathing is obviously necessary and the show must go on. He hopes Twitch has decided to take up space in the workshop next to the usual one or two operators that sometimes call it home. Rook slept like a rock and nothing short of a smoke alarm or gun fire will wake him up.

     A quick squeeze to Gustave’s ass makes him frown in disappointment when nothing else follows it up. It doesn’t last long, however, once he realizes it’s a silent demand for him to lie down on the bed while Gilles finds a bottle of lube in one of the dresser drawers. So he does as he’s asked, lounging not-so-patiently with a fist curled around his cock, pumping it slowly simply for the stimulation it provides. He really wasn’t kidding when he said he was lonely. If absence makes the heart grow fonder, it makes the dick get hungrier. Bandit said that and Gustave laughed so hard he started to wheeze.

     The pad of Gilles’ thumb pressed against his lover’s puckered hole as he descended upon him. Careful ministrations intended to loosen it up so that a finger can breach the taut muscle. A curious thought crosses the mountain’s mind when it gives more readily than it should, accepting the initial digit without much protest. He’s beginning to think his lover’s impatience must have escalated while being left alone for so long. “You spoke with Dominic didn’t you?” He chuckled, receiving an honest nod that quickly turned into a spine arching moan as a second finger was pushed in.

     “I’ll have to thank him later.” That could mean a number of things considering how close they’ve let the German get into their relationship. Marius didn’t seem to mind seeing as how there have been no objections yet. The pilot was well aware that his partner has been giving the two Frenchmen advice but that’s the fullest extent of their interactions. Now’s not the time to get lost in thought though, Gustave’s legs are being hiked up and over the larger man’s shoulders. While he’s not all that flexible, it isn’t uncomfortable yet. They’ll start to ache halfway through and burn the next day, a cost he’s willing to pay in full.

     “Come on, mon amour. Haven’t I waited long enough?” Doc whined, pouting when an eyebrow was raised in response. How needy, but who’s he to deny such a wonderful man what he wants? A pillow is tugged over and shoved beneath Gustave’s lower back to give it cushion and raise his hips more. It’s the little things like this Gus loves, how conscious of his lover’s comfort Gilles is. Again there isn’t nearly enough preparation ( and that worries Montagne ) but Gustave insists on progressing right this instant.

     “This may hurt a little...” The older man warns, receiving no indication that his partner cares. He’s a doctor, he understands, and frankly has had enough of the delay. Gilles slicks up his cock with a healthy amount of lube, guiding it to where it needs to go before pushing in slowly. A bitten hiss is forced through Doc’s teeth, his primary focus now shifting to relax himself around the steadily growing girth burying itself deep within him. It’s a mixture of pain, an uncomfortable stretch, and rising pleasure at feeling the familiar warmth.

     At hilt deep, he’s given time to adjust that Montagne will not allow to be skipped. They aren’t as young as they wish they were, too much carelessness will ruin the experience. And so they wait, exploratory hands detailed the muscles of Gustave’s chest and stroking his sides while he gets lost in the gentle touches. Gilles knows exactly how to make his treasured love feel like a king, whether he’s nestled atop his lap or pinned beneath him. On queue, which this time is a squeeze to the taller man’s thigh, Touré slides back.

     His first series of thrusts are slow and careful, drawing out a pleased hum from Gustave’s throat. They have a well practiced rhythm, it starts at a crawl and picks up to a steady beat both can last their longest on. By no means is it ride or die, in fact, someone like Bandit might find it boring. The position Doc is in allows Gilles to drive in deep at the expense of a now growing ache in his legs. They bounce atop the taller man’s shoulders, his cock left unattended on his stomach. He won’t touch it, not yet, it’s too soon.

     Adjusting his angle draws out a moan from the doctor, one somewhat louder than he intended it to be. Using a little more force produces the same results and Gilles knows he’s found just the right spot to drive Gustave wild. The sound of skin hitting skin, husky breaths, and Doc’s voice is a filthy symphony in an otherwise quiet part of the base all the while he’s being encouraged to let go and praised for how good he feels, looks, and sounds.

     “Pleasure yourself, mon Ange, let me hear your enjoyment.” Gilles says so sweetly, letting go of his lover’s hip to guide a hand to the neglected shaft spilling precum on glistening sweat soaked skin. Fingers curl around it and pump in time with the heavy thrusts pounding his consciousness into oblivion. “There you go, that’s it.” Now Gustave’s mouth is hanging open, eyes glossed over and fixated on the older man’s beautiful hues.

     The burn in his knees is only getting worse but Doc doesn’t feel it anymore. Warmth is pooling in his gut and he can’t string together coherent sentences, repeating Montagne’s name instead along with a few expletives coming out in mixed French-English jumbles. He’s always been the noisier of the two no matter how hard he tried to keep it down. At some point he loses that restraint and drowns out the growls and grunts from his faithful shield. It’s when he becomes silent that Gilles knows he’s reaching his climax.

     With teeth gritted and red flushing his cheeks, Touré chases his own orgasm in the form of less coordinated and more forceful thrusts that have Gustave’s eyes rolling into the back of his head. He hears his name shouted into the heavens and can feel the contractions of Doc’s body as he cums, painting his chest with each spurt. Riding upon that high, Gilles keeps going until he buries himself deep, presses their chests together, and groans into his lover’s ear.

     Having nothing to hold them up, Doc’s legs drop as far as the broad body in between them will allow. They both need a minute to relearn how to breathe correctly and see straight. “God I needed that..” Gustave pants, earning a breathless chuckle from his partner who has raised himself back up on shaking arms. He pulls out with the same care as he had initially going in, giving them both a good look at the mess that had been made.

     Rather than attempt standing, Montagne rolls over onto his back and smiles when he feels Doc turn to snuggle against his side. They’ll worry about showering and changing the bed sheets tomorrow. Neither of them have the strength to bother this time.

     “Je t’aime, mon Ange.” Gilles hums. “Je t’aime aussi, mon Trésor.” Gustave yawns, placing a kiss on his lover’s cheek.

[chatchalita]

I feels like writing something, since I rarely write things these days and I feels like my English will go down the drain soon, if I’m not writing.

Since I impulsively bought a plane ticket again, it’s time for me to summarize my other two trips I had this year as like a build-up for my upcoming new adventure the Taiwan trip in November. 

This first post is about my side trip from business trip...I guess

I don’t know how I usually start my traveling post, I guess I start with a disclaimer that this post is not informative at all, just me writing about my trip for future me to reminisce about it.

It has been 2 years since I last visit Mikawa Anjo, the last time was for internship purpose, (which I happened to not write about the experience :/)  I was greeted by the familiar feelings, I missed this place.  I finally semi-ly made it back.  I worked hard in this company for the past 1 year and I feels like it paid off a little.

This trip was my 6th time in Japan and took 14 days (Aug, 18th- Sep, 1st).  Since this is a business trip, I’m able to ride Thai Airways, finally something that not low-cost and I’m able to load my luggage lol. The flight is TG644, I arrived at Japan around 8am, I decided to stop by my hotel for luggage storage, then go on an adventure to Okazaki Castle.  

Before Okazaki Castle, I visited about 6 Japanese castles, so I know what I should expected from the castle.  And spoiler alert, it was disappointing for me, I don’t know why, maybe because I’m burned out from visiting castle, or maybe because I saw a greater castle?  Or maybe because I expected something from the castle that said to be the birthplace of Tokugawa Ieyasu? The Evangelion exhibition saved this castle from a total disappointment, at least there are something interesting.  

After the castle I went back to my hotel and then meet up with my boss and some Japanese co-workers for a little nomikai.  Alcohol intake, not that much.

The second day, which is Monday, it’s the old atmosphere everybody was as welcoming as ever.  I only spent half day there because I had to visit other supplier factory in Gifu, I’m still cursing myself for not taken any photos in my phone (for the location purpose), then that night another nomikai, and this time I drunk so much sake that actually made me drunk and made me worry for tomorrow.  I’m not the kind of person to have hangover, so I didn’t worried about that, I was more worry about  how much alcohol I will have left in my blood, since Tuesday, I will have to attend welcome party.

Tuesday, another nomikai, thank god my body can handle another round.  That day, I was not drunk whatsoever, but I did drink Calpis sawla for at least 5 glasses, and other other things...overall probaby 15-20 glasses of alcohol.  Those are nothing to sake I previously drunk on Monday though.

Wednesday, nothing worth mentioning ohh except I walked 2 km for Matsumoto Kiyoshi to get the stuffs ppl asked me to buy for them.

Thursday, yakiniku with my co-workers.

Friday, actually nothing?

So one week has passed, most the weekdays activity either hung out” with my co-workers or went to grocery shopping, my co-workers (in Thailand) asked me to buy kimono for them, and they keep called it yukata.  It was a short kimono that you wear with hakama, these people want to wear them as “fashion”, these really culture appropriation *sigh*

Saturday, Saturday, where did I go on Saturday...oh Meiji Mura...again.  I actually went there two years ago to dress in Hakama while this year is to see very small fireworks with actual same age people.  Because I already went there once, not many pictures were taken 

Sunday, the manager in charge of me took me to Iga, MIe to see some ninja.  Iga Ueno castle is actually in the list of castle I want to visit.  If you talking about Iga ninja, Hattori Hanzo, probably the famous ninja from that “school”?

The ninja demonstration was interesting, idk what I expected, I guess I did low-key expected movie stunts ninjutsu, but it turned out to be just ninja technique.

I do loves Iga Ueno Castle since I could see both the life of ninja and samurai in one place.  The ninja village is really fun place and touristy.

So far the day went very well and pretty much free since the manager paid for everything, but my dumbass has to be extra and went to Nishio to see lantern festival (alone).  And you know what, the taxi cost 6000 yen round-trip just for the station to the festival ground.  And this is what 6000 yen gave me...

It only 8pm and the festival already over.  I learned something new every time I went to Japan.  Apparently, 8pm is late for the festival.  I live in the city, 8pm is still early for me.  

Monday, kaiten sushi with the same age people

Tuesday, in the afternoon I went to Toyohashi to see printing factory and the person asked me what is the food that I want to eat but have not eaten yet, and I replied “unagi”, which is something very expensive.  

I think this was about 5000 yen for a set.  In the evening, he treated me tempura like in actually tempura shop, where the chef actually fried tempura in front of us.

As a nekojita, I was suffering but it was so delicious.

Wednesday, I got stood up by the manager that took care of me 2 years ago.  No biggie.

Thursday & Friday, spent my last day in Anjo as lonely as ever.  (and spent 2 hours try to figure how to pack everything in my suitcase because of what people asked me to buy)

Saturday, I bought a day tour from Klook to Takayama and Shirakawago, the thing about tour is it convenience and probably cheaper than finding the transportation myself, but the downfall always, the time.  There are not enough time!!  I guess that is something I have to accept when it a day trip.  In the bus, I was the only non-Chinese speaking person there.

Takayama...I was eating, so I didn’t had much time to explore, but you know what I feels like if you went to Kyoto, you don’t need to go to Takayama.  It has it own charmed, I just didn’t had enough time to enjoy its charm.

The raw beef is the best out of the 3, this Hida beef made visiting Takayama worth it.

Next stop, Shirakawago, the highlight of the trip.  The sunlight and everything made the pictures look colorful and amazing.  The photos taken there was one of my favorite set of photos of all my trips. 

Shirakawago, a place I would loved to visit again during winter and spent more time there.  Due to the lack of time, I can only take pictures of here and there instead of absorb myself.  I wanted to visit more museum, more historical stuff, but the time is limited :/

After the day tour, I went to Hikone and stay at the hotel there.

Sunday, the last day let’s make it count.  I first planned to go see Tonbokiri in western shiga (which I forgot the name of the place), but because it was so far away and I don’t want to wake up early and my main goal was HIkone castle.  I ended up with visited Nagahama Castle in the morning.  That Sunday probably the day I cursed google map the most because the train schedule in there just not right!  I didn’t missed the train, but like the map told me it departs at 9, I arrived at 8:50, the trained in the google map is the train that not stop in this station like what’s going on.  And that happened a lot that day, I probably spent like almost 2 hour in (different) train station because the time in google map was earlier than the actual train. 

Anyway, back to Nagahama castle, a castle built by Totoyomi Hideyoshi

In my opinion, definitely better than Okazaki, the overall atmosphere made it “feels” more significant than Okazaki castle.  The view from the tenshuu is very pretty, in which you can actually see Biwa lake.

I just loves this kind of scenery.

After Nagahama, I went to Omi-Hachiman for some unknown reason.  I’m like that awkward person that wouldn’t push the stop button because nobody seem to get off at this stop, and just kept riding the bus until many ppl get off.  I mean they are Japanese people, they know what’s good right?  Turned out, the popular spot Japanese people are going is like a “dessert park” called La Collina, I called it dessert park because they mainly sell dessert there, and “park” because they have large greenery area.

Their most famous dessert is Baumkuchen, I personally not that big fan of it, so I bought the small size along with macaron.

Then, I followed google map to Omihachiman canal area to find the bus to get back to the station.

The canal area is what I intended to go.

I’m glad I was awkward and decided to follow Japanese people because I got have variety of scenic photos.

Next stop, the highlight of this trip Hikone Castle, 1 of the 12 original castles yayyy.

I love Japanese garden, so first visited the garden in the castle area and just like other garden I visited (except Kokura Castle garden), i was not disappointed.

The Hikone Castle, I loved the castle that I have to work my way to see the tenshu.  I love climbing, just to see castle.

The view from the tenshu also amazing.

After HIkone, I went back to Nagoya to see my same age co-workers? friends? comrades? again for the last time, and we ate “Taiwanese Ramen” which just spicy ramen

And then I got back at the airport, which seem very empty at night.

Good bye, Aichi.  I hope they will send me there for business trip again next year.  

If you read this far, stay tuned for another Japan trip, which is like 2 weeks later from this Japan trip.

[breathe-smiles]

pt ii. analysis

scrupulously reading and revising pt.i, i felt for the first time in these past couple of months that i’ve exhausted all there is to ruminate over. i told myself i wouldn’t give myself a hard time this semester. i wanted to let myself feel all there was to feel, take it easy transitioning into college, and give myself room to fall back on in case i couldn’t be at my best. and i think i’ve been successful; now, i finally feel like i’ve not only given myself that time and space, but depleted it and put it to good use. i have gotten the chance to fully immerse into my emotions. i have allowed my heart to speak as loud as it has needed to. i have been more forgiving and patient with myself in moments of tenderness. i’ve done all that i needed to do for myself for the time being, all that i could do.

these past four months have not been my finest hour. letting things that make me soft take over is not something i ever really do, even when i know it’s necessary. this has truly been a transition period.

academically, i was grappling with what it’s like functioning on a typical college schedule. i was figuring out how to study and how to work, if i actually had to go to certain lectures or not. i took a biology class pass/fail and quite frankly almost let myself lose faith and fail (but i passed! because let’s be real, am i really me if i don’t persevere until it works out? i literally almost let myself withdraw from the course...). besides cramming neurobio, i’ve found that school itself is not too bad. even though college is hard in its own way, it’s definitely more manageable than anything i’ve had to do at stuy. the material is equally as challenging, but the academic experience is lighter for sure. the biggest challenge this semester was solidifying my sectors of study. choosing to go to usc back in may was a decision i made weighted heavily on professional path. and i can’t say i’m 100% sure yet about where i want to take myself professionally, but i’m excited that i’m in an environment where it’s plausible to be passionate about many different things. i’m surrounded by the most inspiring people, and i love where i am.

on that note, i think it’s super important to reflect on the social and day-to-day aspects of this transition period. i’m in love with where i am. i feel like i’m in the perfect place. and the best thing about being at usc is the assortment of people you encounter. i’ve never felt more challenged to think outside my own box in my life. everybody’s studying different things. everybody’s so incredibly passionate. everybody’s smart and not in your face about it. being around these creative and hardworking and intelligent people inspires me so much - and i love that it’s bringing out the best in me.

moreover, being across the country by myself away from home has been everything i thought it would be: freeing, refreshing, much-needed, and ambitious. but it’s also proven difficult, which is something i didn’t expect. all the parts of my support system that are familiar to me are back on the east coast (my mom’s advice and cooking, friends that have dealt with me daily in high school, the intricacies of new york city). i didn’t realize how hard it’d be to let this all go. getting to be in la is something i’m so unexplainably grateful for; it heals my soul creating a new home somewhere else. but it’s so fucking hard? i’ve felt more alone in some moments these past few months than i have in a long, long time. there’s no consistency in my life now. there’s no grounding. i’m in a new place with a new trajectory and i’m changing. anything that’s grounded me in the past feels untouchable now.

and i really don’t know what it would’ve been like having my rock. it would’ve felt so out of place juxtaposed next to the lack of proximity of all these other support systems i have too far of a distance from. maybe the selfish reason of agreeing to call quits on a beautiful relationship was that i couldn’t see this time in my life as being one with grounding. maybe i felt too much potential in us that this just wasn’t the right time to me for that potential to blossom. and writing this out, i find again that i had made the right decision (and probably would make the same decision again given the circumstance, even though the decision’s hurt me a lot). as much as i’ve thought about the alternative realities of our choice (and truly have felt regret at times that things had not gone differently), i know deep inside that things happen the way they are meant to. i trust that much.

so what are my next steps? i feel like i’m always asking others this question when they present me with a problem of theirs. what to do now? where do we go from here? how do we move forward? and i guess it has to do with how constructive i am of a person; although i brood and contemplate and ponder to seemingly no end, i am a problem solver at heart and mind. it has been four full months of my muse and reflection. it’s time to bring myself back down to earth and iron out a map to where i’m heading.

while i’m always my biggest critic, i am proud of myself in this moment for being able to do that.