#paul is like the mean and in finance kinda guy

[ughgoaway]

I think Paul and Kyle are pretty obnoxious 😂

OOOH KYLEEEEE!!!!

both of these are good options but Kyle is just MWUAH

[nothingunrealistic]

Talking about your acting, you are a member of the cast of Billions.

I am. I’m very lucky to be a member of that cast.

Oh, you’re wonderful on that Showtime series. For those who may not have seen it, it’s this very intense drama about New York politics and high finance, with some wicked humor interwoven.

Brian Koppelman and David Levien, the creators of the show, are some of the smartest, most in-depth people I’ve ever met, but also two of the funniest guys, where it’s so much fun in between takes just to go over and just, you know, pal around with them, and talk about anything.

We have a clip of, with your character, Mafee —

Yeah, Dudley Mafee.

Dudley Mafee. Let’s listen to it.

MAFEE: Hey, Axe, you know what today is? It’s **** Todd Krakow in the ear day. AXE: Why do you think I’d want to do that? MAFEE: That panel was Godzilla versus Mothra. AXE: Do you have a plan? Or are we just gonna jump him and break his kneecaps when he gets out of his McLaren? MAFEE: Okay, so Krakow’s been running his mouth about China, right? I… You can tell the way he talks. AXE: The way he talks? MAFEE: Yeah. Last year, he said, “watching factories grow.” It made me wonder, “How’s he seeing this?” AXE: Really, Mafee? You expect me to believe you suddenly swapped Ali G reruns for videos of Todd Krakow’s speeches on China? MAFEE: Okay. My analyst caught it.

How did you land the part of Dudley Mafee?

Luck. But also, they, Brian and David, I’ve known for years, and they had me come in and audition for the pilot, and…

Ah, so they had you in mind.

Yeah, and I came in for the pilot, and there wasn’t… I came back in several times, and there was one actor that they didn’t secure for a role, and they were like, “We think we’re gonna give you this role,” but it was a little out of my depth, and we kinda both knew that. It was one of the main roles. Not, you know, it wasn’t Axe or Chuck, but it was, it was a role that was more prominent. And then they got the actor they wanted, and so they called me and they said, “Listen, we would like to have you in the pilot. We could have you as a one-off. Or if we go to series, we’d like to write you a role.” You know, and you look at the cast, like, it’s Paul Giamatti, Damian Lewis, Maggie Siff, Malin Akerman, David Costabile. It’s like, you guys are going to series. I’ll put my money on that. And it did, and then they came up with the character of Mafee, which originally was, I think, just supposed to be kind of, like, a limited part, just a guy at Axe Capital, you know, just at Axe’s shop. And then they grew it, and I’ve been very lucky where they’ve taken the character. And then, you know, the addition of Taylor to the cast was a thing where, that scene that you just played was the introduction to Taylor, to Axe, and that has been a great storyline throughout the series, which really heated up at the end of season 3. So we’ve been filming season 4, and it’s, I’m very excited. March 17th, it’ll be back out, and it’s gonna be good.

Oh, I can’t wait to see it. Now, the show has a big cast, consisting of the prosecutor side with Paul Giamatti and the hedge fund side where your character works for Bobby Axelrod. It seems that in the beginning, indeed your character was a smaller role for comic relief, and then, clearly, because a whole lot of people were impressed with your work —

Oh, I hope. I mean, that’s a very nice way to think of it.

They expanded it. So you work for Bobby Axelrod, played by this great British actor Damian Lewis.

One of the best.

And talk about dialect! How do the Brits do it?

And then when we try, it looks so sloppy.

Dick van Dyke!

It looks so bad. Yeah, it looks, it looks so bad when we try it. But the one thing that I can say about the Billions cast is, top to bottom, it’s filled with some of the most talented people I’ve ever been around, from Condola Rashad, to Kelly AuCoin, to Asia Kate Dillon, to Daniel Isaac. There’s all these people that are just these small, little parts of Billions, but then you pan back and you realize, it makes the whole universe work with Billions. But there’s so much talent that it's just — like I said, I’m a comedian first, and probably always will be. And just to be around those people and to learn how to act is, it’s unbelievable. It’s such a great opportunity.

Are there some especially funny stories you can share with us? All public radio-friendly?

Yes, Season 1, there was a scene that they cut from the finale, the season 1 finale, where there was, it was supposed to be bonus time at Axe Capital. And they did, they kind of brought it back in an incarnation in season 3, where Axe is bonusing everyone and it’s a quick kind of cut scene. But in season 1, they had a specific scene where the character of Mafee goes into Axe’s office and tries to play hardball with Axe and Wags. And he tries, he brings a folder and has all these numbers to back up why he should get a bigger bonus. And I kept blowing the line. It was a very number-heavy line, and I blew it once, which, that happens, and everyone’s there as a professional, and you just restart, do the line again. I screwed up a second time and felt it a little worse. And the third and fourth time I felt bad, but the fourth time I screwed it up, Damian, who is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met in my life, made a noise, where he was like, “Ugghh.” And it drove me to study my lines harder than any — I, now I never come in over — there’s never not a time where I’m not overprepared on Billions. Because, because of that moment, where you let down a room — not only the crew, but David Costabile and Damian Lewis, who are two phenomenal actors — and you blow it, and you’re like, “This is the most embarrassed…” I’ve bombed and flop sweated less than how I felt in that room. And then they cut the scene! I got it eventually, but then they cut it, and we were like, “Augghh, augghh, that was a real, that was a real time to learn right there.”

Okay, a learning curve.

Yeah, that’s a real big learning curve, is screwing up in front of two great actors.

In this show, a common thread is that nearly every character is amoral. But Mafee is one of the few characters who has a moral compass. Are you proud of that aspect of his character?

I was, until that compass got manipulated in season 3. I don’t want to give it away for anyone that hasn’t seen it, but there is a, there was a giveaway in season 3 where Mafee was manipulated to go against his moral compass. So it was, but it was, you know, it’s fun. It’s fun to be that character. Just kind of be like, “Oh, I’m the guy with a soul, I guess.” For a time being, and then it’s gone, ‘cause eventually everyone loses it. And I think that was kind of a lesson in Billions that they were teaching, is, no one’s unaffected by greed or… yeah, greed, even when it’s, even when it’s disguised as loyalty, it’s still greed, in a certain way.

[anotherkindofmindpod]

this isn’t related to a specific episode but I’m confused about the beginning of John & Yoko’s relationship. I’ve heard so many different things about when/how it started- from she was stalking him to meeting at a gallery to Paul’s manuscripts (or pictures of Paul’s butt?!) to they were sleeping together two weeks after meeting- also varying dates on the 2 Virgins night (before or after NYC?) And was he really pining after her in India? Did he try to bring her? I trust you guys- what’s the deal?

Hello listener, thanks for the ask!

Regarding John & Yoko’s origins:  some stories are inconsistent, and some things are unknowable (i.e. internal emotions), but we’ll do our best to lay out what we do know.

Yoko approached Paul first, through a contact (probably Dunbar) related to Indica Bookshop and Gallery.  Since Paul was a patron, supporter and friend of Indica and was somewhat known within the art community as a rich celebrity with a growing interest in the avant-garde (music, films and art) he was an obvious choice for an artist seeking funding/exposure.  Yoko was an avant-garde artist (performance, gallery and film) whose biggest claim to fame at that point was working with John Cage.  This was the credential/name drop with which she approached Paul at his house in Cavendish sometime in late 1965.  Paul (being Paul) invited her inside to make her pitch: she was collecting manuscripts from various composers as a birthday gift to Cage.  Paul declined.  (For the record, Paul has never suggested or intimated that Yoko came onto him at that first meeting, so let’s assume she didn’t and this was strictly business)  The following year, in November of 1966, Indica hosted an exhibition of Yoko’s work.  This is where John Lennon first met Yoko, when he was introduced to her by Indica co-owner John Dunbar.

This was Yoko’s initiation into the Beatles’ world and it should ALWAYS be told like this, FULL STOP, END OF STORY.  Anyone in 2020 who tells the story any other way is a bald-faced liar and a coward.

Does this sound like an overreaction?  Is Paul’s part in this story really SUCH a big deal?  Let’s reverse things and imagine….

In 1965, John Lennon develops a keen interest in photography.  He immerses himself in the photography world, creates a dark room in his house and brings his photo influences into the Beatles’ artwork. John also finances and helps launch a photography gallery in Weybridge. 

One day, photographer Linda Eastman shows up at Kenwood to show John her portfolio and ask for one of John’s original photographs.  John declines.  Paul later meets Linda at her exhibition at Weybridge Gallery. 18 months  later, Paul starts dating her, calls her his new partner, declares her the greatest influence in his life, and brings her to every Beatles session.  Paul and Linda have a joint photography exhibit at the Weybridge Gallery in 1968, hosted by one of John’s closest friends and mentors.  

Paul then loudly and repeatedly proclaims that he was the only Beatle ever interested in photography, he’s responsible for all the visual art in the Beatles oeuvre and implies that John couldn’t stimulate him anymore because he was too square and conservative to understand or appreciate photography.  

Be honest and try to imagine that.  No one would EVER let Paul and Linda get away with that level of bullshit, but for some reason, Jean Jackets are slavishly obedient to whatever John and Yoko say, regardless of facts.  

So anyway, back to those facts...

After the meeting in November 1966, Yoko began to pursue John Lennon at his home, the studio and even Brian’s office.  She constantly asked for funding and money, but was probably seeking publicity as well.  There are rumors that she was also pursuing John sexually, but to our best knowledge they are unsubstantiated.  In 1967, Yoko was REALLY trying hard to get her career off the ground and/or get famous; there are numerous accounts from multiple people in the Beatles circle (Hunter Davies, Michael Lindsay Hogg, Robert Fraser, Barry Miles) that Yoko was hustling nonstop at that time.  So while Lennon was her main target, our impression is that she was probably just trying to make inroads with anyone who could help her become famous.  Accounts consistently suggest that John intermittently found her intriguing (when he didn’t find her scary or annoying), so I imagine she kept soliciting him because that’s where she made the most progress.  Anyway, her stalking is a matter of fact, corroborated by EVERYONE.  Also corroborated by everyone is the fact that John began to sometimes talk to her and occasionally let her inside (the same way the Beatles treated other Apple Scruffs), starting in/around late 1967.  

Tony Bramwell tells a very bizarre story about John being panicked one day in late ‘67, regretful and paranoid after giving Yoko a hand-written letter and a lock of his hair (?).  A frightened John asked Tony to retrieve the items from Yoko.  Considering the fact that John believed (until his death) that Yoko had magical powers, it sounds as if John asked her to make some sort of voodoo/love potion.  Perhaps their early friendship began as sorceress/client (but who knows? That’s just a guess).

We know that John continued to receive tons of mail from Yoko while he was on retreat in India.  According to John, he eventually began to really look forward to receiving these items.  Yoko would send bizarre, artsy stuff like a maxipad with a drop of red paint in the middle.  Who wouldn’t enjoy weird mail like that?  :)   According to John (in both 1970 AND 1980), he still only thought of Yoko as a weird artist by that point.  He insists he was NOT interested in her sexually or romantically, only intellectually, and there is nothing to suggest that he was lying about that.  More importantly, John was having some kind of emotional breakdown in India; he wrote and talked about feeling suicidal in Maharishi's camp.  John never specified the exact cause of his breakdown, although he did later pinpoint ongoing feelings of self-hatred and worthlessness.  

After returning from India, John was highly emotional, erratic, depressed, and abusing drugs and alcohol at an alarming rate.  Derek Taylor recounts John taking some acid trips at his house over two weekends.  During one of these weekends, John’s now-friend Yoko (who he still insists he wasn’t sexually interested in) showed up and helped “rebuild John’s ego.”  In other words, Yoko threw John a life raft and helped pull him out of the darkest, bleakest depression of his life.  

Then in May, after months of erratic behavior, John declared he was Jesus in an Apple board meeting (!).  The following night, with Cynthia away for the weekend, John invited Yoko over (or had Mal invite her) and the two of them dropped acid, made some tapes and had sex for the first time.   As far as we can tell, this information is accurate as it is corroborated by Pete Shotten (who was making the tapes with John before Yoko came over and replaced him!).  Pete said in the morning John came downstairs and shocked Pete by saying Yoko was the answer to all his problems and he was so certain he’d go off and live in a tent with her.  That sounds shocking until you realize John was on acid at the time (in that light, not quite as shocking).  :)  In any event, after that point John and Yoko became basically inseparable for the next 5 years.

There are rumors/theories that John and Yoko were already having sex for months, but so as far as we can tell these are based on nothing but speculation.  We believe John’s initial interest in Yoko was intellectual and personal rather than sexual, as he contends.  We think John slowly warmed to Yoko over that 18 month period; while initially he might’ve found her annoying, frightening and disturbing, eventually he began to find her quirky, intriguing and charming.  We believe their relationship was founded in friendship and that Yoko’s emotional support (and her professed admiration for him as an artist) during that acid trip at Derek’s was vitally important to their bond.

Now, here’s where things get murky. 

John was also later quoted as saying that in retrospect he realized he was unconsciously falling in love with her from afar whilst in India - which may or may not have been the case.  It is certainly common to look back with fondness on one’s own courtship and also possible to fall in love before you realize you are in love (John described experiencing something similar in 1964) so debating this is kinda pointless and we choose not to nitpick this particular point.  However, people have since used this to extrapolate that John was, as you put it, “pining for Yoko in India” which is simply not what John described.  John described gradually looking forward to her wacky mail and developing a strictly platonic curiosity about her.  If you are highly invested in the John & Yoko love story, it’s easy to spin this into secret “pining,” but when you consider that John was, as he put it, suicidal and going insane, it doesn’t quite make sense.  What makes even less sense is why John wouldn’t immediately ask Yoko out upon returning to London in early April, especially since she was aggressively pursuing him at that point.  Yoko was present for at least one of the Derek Taylor acid trips in May.  Why did John wait an entire month to initiate a private moment with her?  

John also said (in Lennon Remembers, I believe) that he privately considered “bringing” Yoko to India (though not as a love interest, but rather in her contemporaneous role as amusing curiosity, i.e. Magic Alex 2.0).  Once again, this may or may not be true, but we have no reason to doubt him.  Nevertheless, this has also been spun fannishly into “John was pining for Yoko as a girlfriend” which (again) isn’t what he said.  :)

To be perfectly candid,  John & Yoko’s public persona is almost entirely artificially crafted.  THIS is corroborated (and detailed) by nearly everyone close to them- May Pang, Ray Connolly, the Dakota staff, etc.  That doesn’t mean their love was fake, just that their relationship was much different from how they portrayed/sold it (or how fanboys like Lewisohn portray it).  At the end of the day, they are just celebrities who we don’t actually know.   We want things to make sense, which is why I think the “John was secretly pining for Yoko for years and his mind was obliterated by love” appeals to some people.  It’s a cleaner, more familiar boy-meets-girl story.  

Rumors and conspiracy theories are plentiful and can lead you down all kinds of rabbit holes (fun or infuriating, depending on your POV).  The “John & Yoko were secret lovers” one makes things a bit sleazier and sexier (I believe Albert Goldman really leaned into this one!).  But if you really want to consider everything, you should also consider this: Yoko’s Tarot card reader John Green insists that Yoko claims Paul was the one she wanted all along.

She told him:  Paul was her first choice (as boyfriend), which is why she approached him first.  She moved on to John only to make Paul jealous (!), which ultimately backfired when Paul then refused to make advances on John’s new girlfriend.  According to Yoko, Paul’s sense of propriety (?!) ironically prevented him from being with Yoko (even though Yoko KNEW Paul was always in love with her)!  So Yoko inadvertently got stuck with John, who she didn’t really want. Also she was convinced, in the late 70s that Paul was still in love with her and only married Linda because he was devastated he couldn’t have Yoko!

Green swears this is what Yoko told him (for the record, she also thought Mick Jagger was in love with her).  Do we believe Yoko said it, that she believed it? Who knows, maybe?!?  Green’s credibility is certainly questionable. But it’s no crazier than much of the nonsense in Goldman’s book (or Francie Schwartz’s), and Green is alleging to quote Yoko directly.  Parts of this account do ring oddly true; Yoko does seems interested in Paul in the contemporaneous audio/footage from the late 60s.  John did ask Paul not to sleep with Yoko (which Paul seemed a bit nonplussed by).  John and Yoko are bizarrely convinced in the early 70s that Paul and Linda’s marriage is doomed (is it because Yoko convinced John that Paul is actually in love with her???).  Many believe Yoko was jealous of John’s affection for Paul; could Yoko also be jealous of Paul’s affection and respect for John?  Maybe.  But this story blatantly contradicts the entire John & Yoko Myth and is so over the top weird... there’s just no room in our understanding for this alternate reality where Paul and Yoko are the true star-crossed lovers :)   

The point is that you can’t believe ALL the theories and rumors because they often directly contradict each other.  Sometimes you just have to use your own best judgment. We hope this was helpful and that we didn’t just confuse you further.  Thanks again for writing in! -Phoebe and the crew

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (gene/paul, nc-17) (part 28 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Gene and Paul finally go all the way.

Within ten minutes, Gene was splayed on his stomach on the bed, eating Paul out almost ravenously. One of Paul’s bare feet kept rubbing up and digging into his back with every lick and suck, encouragement Gene didn’t even need.

The musky scent and taste of him was intoxicating. Gene felt like he could bury his face in Paul’s pussy forever. Paul didn’t seem to be averse to that, legs shifting, thighs tightening mercilessly around his head. Strangled little cries were giving way to sharp screams. Paul had started off clenching the covers again, but his hands had found their way to Gene’s scalp before too long. He wasn’t digging in as hard as last time. Closer to petting, really, telescoping Gene’s whole world, each touch, each sensation, down to just Paul. It was a real effort to lift his head—Paul grunted in protest immediately—and really take a good look at how unraveled Paul was getting. 

His skin was flushed, eyes half-lidded and so heavily dilated they were practically black. Hair already a mess. Chest heaving. He should’ve looked more vulgar, obscene, even, but somehow he didn’t. Paul almost looked sweet. He still had a bra on. It wasn’t the one from the day before; it was the cream one he’d gotten from that first boutique, the day they’d both bought punk outfits for CBGB. Gene reached beneath it, pushing past the tiny bit of lace edging to cup and squeeze one breast. Paul jerked, hips twitching forward in a quick spasm.

“Take it off,” Gene murmured. Paul sat up only enough to unhook the bra. He cast it aside, then reached down, hands returning to Gene’s hair. “You already look ravished, did you know that?”

“Just get back down there.”

“I mean it, though. I like seeing you this way.”

Paul’s face scrunched up, and instead of answering, he grabbed Gene by the head and shoved him back between his legs. Gene took the hint.

--

Gene got him through two orgasms with just his mouth and fingers. Paul’s legs felt like jelly by the end of it, and yet the oversensitivity he was accustomed to after a round wasn’t there at all. Just like before, he could definitely go again.

Gene had been warming him up to it; he knew it. Getting him ready. He was soaking wet still no matter how much Gene had lapped away at his pussy. Way wetter than he’d ever gotten alone. His clit was swollen and tender, nipples hard. At some point Gene had stripped down to his boxers, and now Paul was tugging them down, too, working at his dick as soon as they were off. Gene was on top of him, heavy against him, swearing softly under his breath with every stroke of Paul’s hand.

He was thinking about his first time. The real one. He’d thought that after, everything would be different.  He  would be different. More confident, more self-assured. But then he’d gone home, and realized he was still sleeping in the same bed, and still waking up to the sound of Ericka squalling in the crib. Still haunted by the same fears. He hadn’t changed. Nothing had shattered or expanded his worldview. He was still Stanley Eisen. He’d just gotten laid, that was all.

Now it was going to be different. Things were going to change. Even best case scenario, things were going to change. The drawing and the photo and all those clothes were going to be about the only physical reminders of the last several days. They’d go back on tour, and...

“You okay?” Gene’s expression was mildly strained. Probably because he’d stopped jacking him off. Paul figured he’d get him off early and delay everything another fifteen minutes at least if he wasn’t careful. Part of him didn’t want to be that careful. 

“Just thinking.” He exhaled softly. “I guess I kinda wanna apologize. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing great.” Gene’s eyes darted to the nightstand. “Paul, did you want to use a condom—”

Paul flinched and shook his head.

“Really?”

“I don’t like the feel.”

“I don’t either, but—”

“Besides, I’m pretty sure we’ve ended up with all the same V.D.s as it is.”

“I was more worried I might get you pregnant.”

“How would you—oh.” It took a minute for the realization to connect. Paul gnawed on his lip. “I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem.”

“Did she say?”

“No, but—” Paul cut himself off abruptly. This wasn’t the conversation he wanted to have with Gene right before sleeping with him. “If having sex once gets rid of the curse, that doesn’t leave any room to get pregnant.”

Gene nodded, though he still looked a bit wary.

“Besides, you’d take responsibility, right?” Paul said wryly. “Your mom’d be thrilled at you finally knocking up a nice Jewish girl instead of a Gentile—”

“Paul, I fucking swear you’re making me want to get that condom.”

Paul snorted.

“They’re at the very back of that drawer.”

He was surprised that Gene didn’t immediately go digging through the nightstand. More surprised when Gene shook his head instead.

“If you’re down to go without it, I am.” 

“All right.”

Give yourself up, Carol had said. He’d thought he knew what she’d meant. Letting him. But that wasn’t the whole of it. Letting his guard down. Letting himself get close enough and vulnerable enough to be hurt.

(give yourself up)

(give yourself up)

“I love you, Gene.”

Something seemed to shift. Paul wasn’t waiting on an answer in kind. It wouldn’t have been fair to expect. But Gene’s gaze on him seemed to get warmer. Gene’s lips pressed against his, hot and fervent, and almost more than he could bear. Gene’s hands coursed over his body like he was trying to memorize each inch of skin, leaving Paul almost too overwhelmed to respond at first. But he got there. He got there. His fingers traced over the muscles of Gene’s back, stroked down his chest as Gene’s mouth found his collarbone, kissing and nipping up the left side of his neck. Paul wanted a hold on him. He’d thought he was over being so hopeless, thought he was willing to let the cards fall as they might, but every touch rekindled his own desperation. He wanted some meaning, some sign that this wouldn’t be the last time. That there really would be something between them after. That Gene could still see him as someone worth wanting once this body was gone.

Gene rubbed the head of his cock against Paul’s slick folds, sending a shiver of anticipation straight through him. Paul started to tilt his hips into it, encouraged but nervous all at once. He’d had such a poor time trying to penetrate himself alone. But he felt like he was more open now, clit swollen and throbbing slightly, all the blood feeling like it’d long since gone straight between his legs and stayed there. Gene was looking at him for a go-ahead, and when Paul nodded, he finally began to push inside him, dissolving all the space between them. Paul’s breaths hitched, expecting more pain than he felt. It stung at first, enough that his eyes watered briefly, despite how wet he was, how much Gene had worked him up. The weirdness of the sensation, being stretched and filled in a way he never had before, still made him tense up, and he cursed softly. Gene’s eyebrows were knitted.

“You all right?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

“You’re really tight, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not. Keep… ngh, keep going.”

Gene nodded, but he still looked a little wary. Paul took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves, get accustomed to the feeling, and after a few seconds, some of the pressure seemed to subside. His body was starting to not just accommodate Gene’s dick, but welcome it in. Faint sparks of pleasure coursed up his spine, and he started to wriggle his hips, trying to chase that sensation. He’d had his legs splayed flat against the bed to start, unsure of what to do with them—which was pretty stupid, honestly, given how many girls he’d had—but now he was shifting, wrapping his legs around the back of Gene’s thighs. Trying to tug him tighter in, get all the contact he could. Gene’s first thrusts were a little slow and shallow, uncertain. Paul could feel Gene’s gaze on him, the mix of concern and need all over his face. He reached up, tugging Gene down by the shoulder for another kiss and a little more reassurance.

“Gene, I’m okay. Keep going,” he repeated, breathing unsteady. “’M not made of glass here.” His other hand found Gene’s, braced against the mattress. Paul grabbed his wrist, and when Gene raised his hand, Paul took it, locking their fingers together, squeezing his palm.

“You got quiet on me. I want to make sure you’re feeling good.”

“I am. Promise.”

“You’ll tell me?”

Someone as sex-obsessed as Gene worried about his performance. At any other time, it might’ve been hilarious. It still was funny enough that Paul crooked a smile, although it made him feel a little heady, too.

“I’ll tell you. Now c’mon.” Paul untangled his legs from around Gene’s, raising them up and then locking them around Gene’s waist instead. It felt more secure there, the angle at least seemed better, maybe tighter, almost. Another thrust confirmed it. Paul moaned, grip on Gene’s hand tightening, cursing, encouraging. It wasn’t anything like being fucked as a guy, though he hadn’t expected it to be. It honestly felt a lot better. More nerve endings, much less resistance, something. He didn’t know. He was clamping down on Gene’s dick unconsciously, with Gene panting above him, his thrusts deeper and faster as the pressure mounted.

Gene squeezed his breast with his free hand, making Paul let out another sharp cry. Gene’s forehead was drenched in sweat before very long, his hair sticking to his skin, face contorted. Gene was watching him so intently it should have been intimidating. It was awhile before some of that intensity faded, before Gene really seemed to let go of any more misplaced caution. Touching and caressing and fucking him in a way he’d never be able to again. Paul couldn’t let himself think about that. His nails dug briefly into Gene’s palm, hips jerking of their own accord as Gene plunged into him again.

A day’s worth of fooling around with him hardly made Paul an expert, but Gene looked like he was closer than him. He wasn’t nearly as vocal as Paul, only groaning a bit, but his pace had started to get erratic, the hand in his getting almost as sweat-slicked as his face. Paul shivered. His own pleasure hadn’t been building the same way as when Gene had gone down on him; it was slower, steadier. Gene was following along with every moan, eagerly redoubling on whatever made Paul cry out, but there was some visible strain now. It wouldn’t be long until—

“I’m—please don’t stop, I’m getting there, I swear…” Paul trailed haphazardly. 

“What do you need?”

Gene’s words were so warm that Paul felt like he might burst. Gene had sat up a bit. There was finally a little bit of space between them. Paul wouldn’t have wanted that earlier, but now, taking Gene’s other hand, he realized it might be what he needed.

“Touch me while we fuck. Please, right—”

He couldn’t come out with it. It felt too bizarre to actually talk about any part of his current body, any part besides his breasts. He just grabbed Gene’s free hand, guiding it between his legs, to his clit.

Just the first few strokes of Gene’s fingertips against his clit made him shudder. Gene started thrusting again soon after, somehow invigorated-- he had to let go of Paul’s hand, brace his hand against his shoulder instead to keep his balance, but Paul didn’t mind, his vision starting to swim as he felt himself get to the edge again and again. It wasn’t just the need welling up within him, amped up by Gene’s hand; it went deeper. He felt like he was encompassed by Gene. No. Tangled, entwined with him. For a few brief seconds he was all sensation, no fear, no insecurities, melded with Gene as one. No matter what happened after, that feeling of belonging he’d craved so desperately all his life was right there, right now, with him.

“Oh, oh, fuck, Paul…”

It wasn’t simultaneous, but it was close. He couldn’t feel it when Gene came inside him, but he could see it, hear it in the sudden, softly mumbled curses. Between that and Gene’s fingers still working him, it was enough to push Paul to climax before long, screaming Gene’s name in a ragged syllable. The orgasm seemed to stretch a little longer than the others, leaving him panting against Gene as both their bodies stilled.

“You did so good,” Gene said finally. He was smiling, tugging Paul in close, rolling him to the side. Paul wrapped his arms around him tight, crooked a smile back.

“You were pretty good yourself.”

Gene hadn’t pulled out yet. That was an odd sensation, too, Gene going soft inside him. He liked it. It was like Gene had forgotten who he was with, forgotten they were supposed to have just broken a curse. Like he wanted to keep him there. Keep them together. Paul could hold onto that thought for a long time—but then, he still had his legs wrapped around Gene’s waist, too. It was a few more moments before Paul convinced himself to let go, legs dropping to the mattress.

He was kind of sore, not surprisingly, even in the afterglow, and once Gene withdrew, he could already start to feel some wetness seeping out from his pussy. Come or blood or both. His cheek rested against Gene’s chest, and he waited. Gene’s gaze on him was mild, arms around him steadying, but Paul knew he was waiting, too. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how long it’s gonna be.”

“Paul, don’t be sorry.”

“I didn’t feel anything last time.” He’d meant it to ease any fears Gene might have over him transforming back, but instead he kept going, weirdly compelled. “Well, I thought my nipples were kind of sore the night before, but…”

“But it didn’t hurt?”

“No. I-I…”

“Paul?” Suddenly, strangely, Gene’s expression seemed to flicker. The whole room did. He felt tired, far more tired than he should have. There was an inordinate heaviness to his limbs, his body, one he couldn’t shake off, couldn’t struggle against for more than the moment it took to mouth Gene’s name, just before his world went white.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

ok-yikes replied to your post: diefordarkseid replied to your post: ...

ok but like thank u sm for the link i’ve been vaguely following your winston/billions content and ive been trying to find the context without having to watch the whole thing lmao so now i can fully understand ur analysis and art that i already enjoy!!

oh first of aw!!!! that’s such a compliment lol ty and yes s/o to @winstonthequant for posting that compilation for 5.5k+ people to partake in, it’s super useful

yeah we Jest that all anyone needs to know to understand the Spirit Of Wynnstanning is to have seen those scenes with winston and taylor from kompenso, ep 3x11 lol.....i mean it’s partially a joke but it’s also partially true, that’s pretty much the Cause of the group of us going “oh my god” and becoming Invested in all of this. winnie n tay baby.......their Dynamique...they are way too good Ugh

and yeah the Broadest Of Strokes of this series overall is that the Central Theme is "insufferable bastard hedge fund ceo damian lewis [aka axe] man Versus insufferable bastard attorney general paul giamatti man [aka chuck],” just these corrupt assholes having a back and forth slapfight power struggle every season. nobody cares what happens in season 1 but taylor is introduced at the start of season 2 as a just-out-of-undergrad intern at axe’s hedge fund. turns out they’re amazing at hedge funding (they have some goddamn sense and strategy and awareness, whereas axe is 100% beholden to the whims of his own Delicate Temper and Ego and is a continually self-sabotaging idiot, nbd) and by season 3, while axe is doing a bit of jail time over insider trading (see: previous parenthetical) taylor is left effectively in charge of axe’s hedge fund, which btw is called axe capital

Our Beloved Quant Winston enters the picture 3 eps into this situation, where taylor is attempting to start a quant team at axe cap, hence interviewing him, then only known as “quant kid 2″ in the credits. [not-that-informed explanation of What Is A Quant: where the Traditional Financial Analysts in a hedge fund try to make profitable stonk trades just via like, reacting to The News and other publically available info / whipping up Strategies / intuiting shit and making judgment calls or whatever the hell they do, a Quantitative Analyst (a more recent development in the high finance world) is taking a more mathematical approach to the whole legal gambling operation which is The Stock Market and might, as winston does, use An Algorithm to analyze finance info and make trades in response. is the vague idea here] Quant Kid 2 was not Originally meant to ever reappear, hence him just messing up the interview and getting sent off after like 30 seconds, but they wrote him in further when William Roland showed up and actually filmed the scene. 

when “i’m a shitty bastard driven by my shitty ego and will self-sabotage if my Pride asks for it on a whim” axe shows back up, tl;dr, he spends the rest of s3 being terrible and unappreciative to taylor, who you might imagine is Threatening That Delicate Ego of his by capably taking care of his hedge fund while he was indisposed. for example, he needlessly wrecks taylor���s relationship with a guy they were having a nice time dating (and will, we’re pretty sure, talk to again in s5ep2!! hoorayy) and does basically the opposite of apologizing, sweeps taylor’s Quant Project into the trash, gets mad at them for failing to land a certain investor which he said they did on purpose which idk they May Have lol i think this was later in the season, and won’t give them the raise they want, and that’s just A Few of the bullet points in this topic. but oops, turns out that taylor has been secretly taking steps to put together their own entirely separate hedge fund! which is where winston comes back in, aka their meeting him in that empty classroom only to summon him to a random basement. that algorithm he ends up creating for them (which he’d Assumed was for axe cap purposes) was used by taylor to entice a Big Investor at axe cap to invest in their own hedge fund, taylor mason capital, which exists by the end of season 3, which obviously axe is not happy about and of course it’s a whole ~betrayal~ even though he did it to himself but no, he decides taylor is his Nemesis, b/c in so many ways he is a dumbass. god

season 4 has winston as taylor’s Main Quant (the one time we hear his name spoken aloud is taylor saying “winston and the quant team). taylor spends the season dealing with all the problems of having a Brand New Hedge Fund and having a Well Established Hedge Fund With An Asshole At The Helm constantly trying to sabotage their fund, which we also call tmc / mase cap for short, just for reference lmao, the latter being how they shorten it in the show’s actual dialogue. the Front Running mentioned in that one clip was an instance of such sabotage. and by the time winston shows up 5 eps later, that Fracking Subplot (lmao...this fucking show) was about taylor being reeeeal sick of axe cap’s sabotage b/c they kinda made it personal, and thus spending the whole episode Completely playing axe for a fool, which was kinda fun, b/c it’s not that hard and he has it coming. it gets a little involved with what’s going on in ep 4x11 with the bonuses lmfao but it's nbd, just know that winston was right, we went frantic about him being Bullied and are still indignant about it, and taylor talking to Everyone in that 4x12 clip does seem to address what winston had said, compare and contrast 4 yourselves, even if this apparently went totally over the heads of any Regular Billions Viewers lmao. and then in 4x12 A Lot Happens b/c it’s the finale but axe manages to self-sabotage himself in a way that does a lot of damage for mase cap though, and axe thinks that he’s successfully blackmailed taylor into returning to axe cap with mase cap as a Supposedly Temporary subsidiary of axe cap, which sucks, but taylor is not as blackmailed as he thinks, which is a secret, Drama and Twists and Shifting / Dubious Loyalties and Stonks are just constant themes here and who cares. we are here for the quant, who is there with taylor

We Have Many Ideas / wise concepts and headcanons, seeing as canon is a nightmare and there’s not That much material re: winston and precious few details about him / he spends sooo much time offscreen and unmentioned and it leaves us plenty of blanks to fill in. for example, maybe u noticed we think he should kiss taylor and also get railed by them, there are extensive ideas about that relationship wherein we happily ignore Finance. also, there is an unusually kind and reasonable analyst over at axe cap named ben kim who we also think should kiss winston, so yeah That idea is sure around as well lol, they have enough Parallels and complementary Similarities and Contrasts and also just like, a normal nice person is a rarity on this show, so ben does Not have a world of competition in our [list of people who’d be Okay to kiss winston, b/c someone should, b/c he deserves that cuz we love him]

yeah that’s my Quick Basic Context summary lmao we hate it here but also we have fun, and really at any time (extending this to anyone lol) feel free to Send An Ask about anything at all b/c i am Not annoyed by random / unprompted asks from anybody, i love interaction! who knows if i’ll answer promptly (for example: sorry @ the person who’s asked for deh/bmc hcs who i havent answered yet lol) but yeah. it’s totally nice that you were already interested even without any Context lmao like. i mean yeah basically the joke still stands that the only context u truly need is that one scene from Kompenso but. yeah #Stonks

[mermaidsirennikita]

Hello. This is the anon that asked if Albert was manipulative towards Victoria. I meant to thank you for your response as soon as I saw it, but I got caught up in life. I don't know if I'm once again seeing people only react to the show's history or actual history, but I just read with my own two eyes that Victoria "stopped" being the queen only because Albert "turned" her into "money-giver" and "baby-automat." Are people just determined to make Albert look like the bad guy no matter what?

I mean, I get that Victoria and Albert had a power struggle, literally, when it came to their relationship, but Victoria never stopped being the queen. Didn’t she give him the key to her dispatch or “red” box as a Christmas present after Vicky was born? And wasn’t Victoria well aware that if she didn’t want any more children, all she had to do was stop having sex with Albert? People make it sound like she was being forced against her will to become pregnant or give Albert any money and power.

I’m glad you liked my first response, and I’m glad you’re back with more because honestly, the ITV Victoria “fandom” is kinda ridiculous and I don’t like to wade thru it when people try and act like they’re interested in history when half the time they’re interested in furthering a fictionalized agenda.  I can tell you that when it comes to the ~history fandom~ on here, the biggest work of fiction in relation to V&A prior to Victoria was The Young Victoria, and everyone was obsessed with V&A together and nobody really questioned it… until there was a ship to be put up against it.  Lol, I guess poor Paul Bettany didn’t get people’s hearts going like Sewell, even tho the latter really isn’t my thing either.

The thing that people have a problem with, fundamentally, is Victoria being a woman of her time–I would say this more than Albert being a man of his time.  If Victoria had wanted to say no to sex with Albert, she could have; in fact, all evidence points to the fact that she was far more sexual than he, especially after they grew into the marriage.  If she’d put her foot down after, say, baby number four, she would have had two sons and two daughters and not only would Albert not have objected, but her people couldn’t really say much about it either.  But she didn’t, because Victoria loved sex and she loved Albert and she loved having sex with Albert.  I’m not saying that Albert didn’t love sex/Victoria–no doubt he loved Victoria, but his thoughts on sex are a bit murkier.  Sidenote: he did comment on her cleavage in his notes right after they were married and clearly found her physically attractive, but his feelings on sex in general were often prudish and maybe even complicated by the disaster that was his parents’ marriage, imo.  Some have even speculated that Albert was asexual, though not aromantic, and had sex with Victoria to make her happy–I don’t think so based off of what I read, but he certainly was not keeping Victoria pregnant in order to keep her under his thumb.  In fact, as soon as Victoria had so many babies that it became physically hazardous for her to keep getting pregnant, she stopped getting pregnant–and as Victoria’s response to being told that babies = death was “but what about my fun in bed” (allegedly) I have a feeling that Albert, who was already apparently at his wit’s end with worry over her and baby Beatrice prior to the birth, put his foot down.  Albert wasn’t unaware of the dangers of pregnancy for a woman back then, so I find it especially bizarre that people are insinuating that he purposefully kept Victoria pregnant in order to exert his power over her.  Certainly, a byproduct of Victoria’s pregnancies were that Albert took the reins more often, but he also was notably pretty involved with the births for a man of the day, and seemed to be worried about her physical and mental health during the pregnancies (again, for a man of his day–he wasn’t fretting over postpartum depression, but he did make note of Victoria not being super happy about being pregnant, about how he wished she’d be able to enjoy motherhood more–it’s not like he wanted this chick miserable in bed waiting for a baby to come).  She would have likely been expected to have at least three children no matter what–ideally four, I think.  No matter who she married, she would have needed at least two healthy sons for people to feel comfortable, and a daughter would also be ideal for marital alliances.  Her love of sex with Albert and a lack of good contraception back in the day (as well as I’m sure a lack of belief in the propriety of contraception on his part, and hers as well most likely) equaled more babies.

As for Albert’s control over finances, I’m not 100% sure on that anecdote, but honestly, like you said, Victoria could have taken away much of what she gave.  Maybe not easily all the time, but she remained the queen, Albert a prince consort.  She gave him power, she gave him money, because she wanted him to be happy, she loved him, and at the end of the day, she was (as I keep saying) a woman of her time who lacked a strong male figure for much of her life and clearly sought one.  She wanted him to be big and strong–I mean, not to speculate, but it sounds like it kind of turned her on when he took control.  With any other historical figure I’d say that’s going too far to ponder, but we have Victoria’s diary entries, and while they are edited, she clearly thought a lot of this guy.  Now, you don’t have to think the world of him–but let’s say you have a friend.  She’s a vibrant girl and she’s dating a guy who’s a nerd, who’s quiet, you don’t get the appeal, he seems uptight.  But if she ADORES him, if she sees something through him, if she starts doing more of the things he likes to do to please him–would you say that he was forcing his will on her?  No.  You’d say that you don’t get her taste, you don’t see why she’s doing it, but it’s HER choice.  I really don’t see Victoria’s choice to give Albert more power as a bad thing, at least not in the short term–he was by no means a perfect would-be monarch, and of course he was alive when the monarchy was transferring from being a ruling power to a reigning power.  But he did care about the less fortunate in a way that Victoria and many English nobles (Lord Melbourne included) didn’t.  He did see a responsibility in the royals to set a good example, and for that matter to “give back” even if that meant simply raising awareness for important causes like the abolition of slavery.  He was very well-educated, and while Victoria absolutely inflated his intelligence in her mind as a young, naive, lovestruck girl, he was impressive in many ways.  She saw things that she liked, and frankly–Victoria wanted to be the queen, but she was never all that into the serious job of it.  She seemed more about socializing that social reform, you know?  And that’s okay.  Albert could handle that, and Victoria could handle the more public side of things.

The thing about Albert is that he’s fallen prey to an unfortunate part of historical research in this day and age…  Wherein people (largely people who write pop history, or crossover history) have written and written about “controversial” people to the point that it becomes overdone (Elizabeth I, Anne Boleyn, Marie Antoinette, Cleopatra) so they look at things that are VERY obvious and make a complicated issue out of it.  Henry VIII was probably a dick with some natural mental illness(es), but we wanna make something new and exciting–so we start going, oh, can this all be traced back to his mom dying when he was young and his father favoring Arthur?  Oh, is this all due to a traumatic brain injury that probably didn’t happen?  Prince Albert was probably a man of his time–he wanted to be the head of the household and got insecure about that, but overall he had a happy marriage and loved his family.  But we want it to be MORE, so we look at this marriage through the lenses of 21st century standards, and we find flaws that only exist to a certain extent.  Albert and Victoria did not have a perfect marriage, and they clashed over dominance at times.  But ultimately, Victoria certainly wanted Albert to be the head of their personal family, and that gradually led to him becoming more powerful.

Also, people tend to take a lot of the less flattering perspectives on Albert from Englishpeople of the time who were xenophobic towards Germans sooooooo not super reliable imo.  People said he was money-grubbing because compared to Victoria he didn’t have a lot of personal funds; but to be frank, differing factions would have been critical of anyone she married.  She was a sovereign queen, people assumed that her husband would have control on some level–and on some level, he eventually did.  

At the end of the day, people are essentially angry that Victoria doesn’t live up to their feminist expectations of what a sovereign queen should be, when she… lived… in… the…. nineteenth… century……..

And for God’s sake people are dramatic, she never stopped being queen, she just handled fewer administrative duties and took on a more ceremonial role.  Which was inevitable, to be quite honest, due in part to her sex and in part to the fact that the monarchy was, as previously mentioned, becoming less of a real ruling entity.  Much of what Albert did was contained to running the literal household and handling marital alliances, nothing compared to what, say, Elizabeth I did.

[iampaulywalnuts]

Casting “Obstruction”, the Inevitable HBO Original Film on All This Shit

Perhaps it’s because reality has felt very much like a prestige drama recently that I have started wondering “who’s going to play these guys in the HBO version of these guys?” 

Methodology: VERY SCIENTIFIC!

First I chose who I believe are the ten most important players in the real life obstruction, between the time Trump won the election and his future indictments.

It was tempting to try to capture the whole 2016 election, and other GOP cowards, but then we’d be here all day, and the New York Times already did that sort of. So no Bannon. No Stephen Miller. No Jaime Foxx...I mean Ben Carson. I also didn’t include Sean Spicer or Sarah Sanders, because they might as well not even be there they know so little. 

I tried to select from actors that I knew offhand, but when that well dried up after about three minutes, I reached out to some trusted friends, Wikipedia, etc. I asked myself:

1) Does it look like their real life counterpart?

2) Could they pull off the role as a lead? 

So let’s get started! ACTION!

Group 1: The Obstructed

1) James Comey

The now former FBI director, once hated by every liberal in America, now holding the torch to guide America out of the darkness I guess. Election manipulating dickhead. 

Bryan Cranston

Rationale: Originally I was overthinking the height issue; for a while all I could come up with was Adrien Brody and I thought for a second “now I’ll never make it as a casting director”. Cranston is a boring selection but it’s the right one to play the careful, calculated Comey. Make him seem taller like in the other one. Can’t go wrong.

2) Sally Yates

Former deputy US Attorney General. Holdover from the Obama administration who informed the Trump White House that Michael Flynn was compromised before being fired for, basically, being a competent woman. 

Amy Sedaris

Rationale: I really think I nailed this one. The first time and pretty sure only time I have ever seen Amy Sedaris was in that scene in Louis CK’s Horace and Pete, and I was totally blown away like everyone else. She was a light in the darkness of that miserable place.. When I think of Yates my mind goes to how she handled Ted Cruz like a 6th grader who thinks he knows shit in that Senate meeting. I get that same feeling! She’s unflappable, so obviously smarter than you, a light in the darkness! Plus, Yates and Sedaris could be sisters. Genius!

3) Preet Bharara

Former US Attorney for the Southern District of New York. Led investigations into Trump finances before being removed from his position by Trump. Revered by his peers and those who worked for him. We don’t hear as much about him but in a movie called “Obstruction��� you can’t leave him out.

Erick Avari

Rationale: Surprise! I don’t know many Indian actors :(  I do recognize this guy from everywhere, however. Avari’s mostly in sci-fi films and television, although he’s also been in classics like The Mummy, Independence Day, Mr. Deeds, and whatever’s on TNT right now. This is the best I could do sorry Indian people don’t hate me!

Group Two: The Complicit Enablers

4) Paul Ryan 

Speaker of the House and Representative from Wisconsin. Backed a monster because he wanted to cut taxes and take health insurance away from poor people. Embarrassment to Pauls everywhere. 

Jeremy Renner

Rationale: The key to a good Paul Ryan performance is capturing his enthusiasm for allowing people to die. Paul Ryan smiles when he talks, not because he wants to give Americans “more choice” on health insurance, but because he knows if you support what he says you will die, and is excited by the prospect. Anyway, Renner’s pretty good and they kinda look the same. 

5) Mitch McConnell

Senator from Kentucky, majority leader. Everything that is wrong with politics. Currently awaiting his stay in hell. 

Tim Robbins

Rationale: Recreating the ugliness, on the inside and out, of Mitch McConnell, requires the combined craftsmanship of a master actor and make up team (perhaps enlisting the experts on Game of Thrones would be wise). I know this casting is unduly generous to Mitch McConnell. I can’t imagine a bigger gulf between how much I enjoy looking at two different men. But Robbins does have the height, and could nail McConnell’s gravelly, unfeeling Kentucky accent. And Robbins is the definition of PRESTIGE. 

GROUP 3: The Spy

6) Sergey Lavrov

Russian foreign minister and spy. Fooled Trump into giving away highly sensitive information and compromising intelligence partnerships. A shark swimming with really dumb fish.

Boris Lee Krutonog

Rationale: I reached out to my only Russian friend about this casting. You look at Krutonog and think “oh he’s the bad guy in that one movie” (side note: “that one movie” is always The Italian Job), which is ultimately all we’re going to need for this story. I’d probably know of more Russian actors if I watched The Americans --he’s in the The Americans--but there are way too many shows. If he can say nice things in English followed by mean things in Russian in front of whoever is playing Trump for a scene we’ll be ok! 

Group 4: The Criminals 

7) Michael Flynn

Retired General and former National Security Adviser. Winner of Russian medals. Failed to register as a foreign agent after taking money from the foreign governments. Chanter of “Lock Her Up”. Soon to be locked up. 

Christopher Waltz

Rationale: Waltz seems to always play eccentrics, and Flynn certainly would qualify in a conspiracy theory peddling Islamaphobe kind of way. We of course have seen Waltz in military attire in Inglorious Basterds, and Nazi-garb aside it suits him. The key moment for Flynn will be as he’s listening to his sentence read aloud,  staring into the void, finally discovering that he was the bad guy all long. Can’t wait!

8) Jeff Sessions

Middle name is Beauregard, yeah ok. Attorney General. Lied to Congress about connections to Russia. Recused himself from Russian investigation only to be interviewing new FBI directors weeks later. So much awfulness outside of this scandal but we have to press on.

Chris Cooper

Rationale: We know Chris Cooper from many of his films and performances, the most memorable to me in American Beauty as a bitter man stuck in his ways, afraid of the future as the world progresses around him. Jeff Sessions plays that role in his normal life every day, the only differences being he has terrifying power, and we don’t know he’s a closeted homosexual. He could be!

9) Jared Kushner 

Senior (lol) Adviser. Delegated by Trump to perform all duties of the presidency. Likely suggested and encouraged the firing of James Comey. Failed to disclose financial ties to Russia before entering White House. Proof that nothing matters.  

Paul Dano

Rationale: In Little Miss Sunshine, Paul Dano played a kid who couldn’t become a fighter pilot because he was colorblind, and so took a vow of silence for some reason I forget. Maybe Jared Kushner has taken a vow of silence, because as it’s been noted elsewhere, I don’t think we’ve ever heard him actually speak! Don’t even give Dano any lines. He can just occasionally throw on a pair of black Ray Bans and look dumb. 

10) Donald Trump 

CEO of Trump Steaks. Vessel of ignorance and hatred. President of the United States.

Hologram of Phillip Seymour Hoffman

Rationale: PSH was too talented to play someone as widely parodied as Trump, but as the scandal rages on, and reports come out of Trump summoning his communications staff and going off on epic tantrums I think he’d be perfect.

Hoffman also played a misogynistic, lying con artist in The Master; specifically a cult leader in the vein of L. Ron Hubbard. One of my favorite scenes is when he’s confronted by a persistent skeptic during a session with a wealthy patron. This is the first time in the movie Hoffman’s character, The Master, is questioned at length, and you can see him slowly losing composure before blowing up in an angry “PIG FUCK”. It’s an awesome scene and demonstrates why, among many other reasons, Hoffman would have made a great Trump. We have plenty of “TV Trump” impressions; the catchphrases, bloviating, etc. I would want an actor could tap into his boundless anger and fear as he slowly wilts under the pressure of his own incompetence and senility. Hoffman could bring a level of nuance to such a shallow figure.

Great job, everyone! Less than six months into Donald Trump’s presidency and we already have AT LEAST one HBO-ready prestige scandal, so for that let’s give ourselves a round of applause, America. Our ratings are going to be SICK...and so is everyone with a pre-existing condition! 

No one knows what the future will bring, but we’ll be watching. Not TV. HBO.

[lbat1901]

Eddsworld: UTFTF Chapter 6

The Visitor - (Chapter 6)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Present Day]

The sun was just setting on a seemly nice day as three people were seen walking down the block. You see these weren’t strangers, they were familiar faces. They were Tord, Paul, and Patryck. Each one was wearing a hoodie and were carrying house warming gifts. They kept walking down the block till they came to a stop at a door. “Alright, we’re here” said Tord.

“Oh thank god. Carrying this baby pear tree is a pain” said Patryck as he placed the tree down. “Are you excited as I am?” asked Tord. “Uh…why do I have to wear pink?” asked Paul. Tord ignores the question as he knocks on the door. There was a small pause before it opened revealing Edd. “Tord! You made it” said Edd.

“Of course I did. Well, there was a few stops here and there, but it wasn’t a long wait” said Tord. “Awesome! Please come on in” said Edd. Tord, Paul, and Patryck enters the house as they placed their gifts down. “So how are things going in your newly built house?” asked Tord. “It’s been great so far. Is that a pear tree?” asked Edd. “Why yes it is. I brought you guys gifts as a way to start things over” said Tord.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that Tord” said Edd. “True, but I wanted to. By the way, where’s Tom? I want to spend all day doing things with you guys like for old times sake” said Tord. “He went somewhere” said Edd. “Really? Ah Tom, you’re always ditching. If he’s busy somewhere else, I guess we can wait for him to come back” said Tord. “Fair enough” said Edd.

[Meanwhile]

Just down a couple of doors was the residence of the Black Leader, aka Tony, himself. Tony was seen doing something in what appears to be a lab. “Finally, after many months of bracing my defeat at the hands of some certain individuals, I have created a serum which will give a person enhanced strength and superpowers” said Tony. Tony takes a look at two syringes that were filled with a red and blue liquid. “Luckily, I haven’t lost that much power when it comes to my own army. I still control parts of the earth. Hopefully I won’t have to suffer like my ancestor, Baron. Oh….after he got beaten by the town sheriffs and one mysterious person, he had to live through years of humiliation. It is something that I greatly fear myself” said Tony. Suddenly Tony’s moment gets interrupted by the sounds of a buzzing walkie-talkie.

“I read you loud and clear. What is it?” asked Tony. “Sir, it’s me Yamiyo” said Yamiyo. “Ah I see. What news do you have for me?” asked Tony. “I just had this group of soilders finish up raiding this village that you ordered to be found and secured” said Yamiyo. “Excellent! Does the village have any valuable resources?” asked Tony. “Yes” said Yamiyo.

“Great! I want those resources extracted” said Tony. “As you wish. What would you like to do to the villagers?” asked Yamiyo. “Oh that’s simple. I want them dead, but remember to kill off the livestock. The people love it when their livestock gets killed” said Tony. “Yes sir” said Yamiyo. After talking to Yamiyo, Tony decided to head outside into the dark dressed in his uniform. “Choosing black for your own army was a good idea especially when it comes to sneaking into places” said Tony.

What Tony said was true, nobody expected to see him as he broke into a jewelry store and stolen a couple of expensive jewels and diamonds. “Ahaha! That was almost too easy. Next up, the Tower of London” said Tony. As Tony passed by an alleyway, a bright light mixed with blue lightning bolts suddenly appeared before vanishing as a figure can be seen crouching. The figure soon gets up revealing to be a stranger wearing a red and black uniform. The main feature that the figure had was that they were wearing a red mask with horns and had two robotic arms that had a trail of flowing blue energy on each arm. By dragging a finger against the ground, the figure nods their head just before two blue glowing eyes turned on.

At the Tower of London, Tony was seen sliding down on a rope after breaking in. “Heh, those stupid guards make my job so easy. Now it’s time to head back” said Tony. Before Tony could walk away, he nearly gets blasted by an energy blast. Tony who was confused looked towards the direction of where the blast came from before seeing the same figure that was in the alleyway coming towards him. Tony quickly takes cover into a nearby alleyway hoping to get rid of the figure. Unfortunately, the figure manages to find him before roughly grabs him by the collar and throws him to the ground.

Luckily Tony manages to save himself from taking damage, but he landed pretty hard on his arm. “Ow…geez, that hurt. What was that?” asked Tony. He then hears the sound of footsteps as he turned to see the figure coming from behind him made him jump. Tony slowly moves away from the approaching figure but this made the situation even worse. Before the figure could do anything, the sounds of glass shattering could be heard just shortly before the figure collapses to the ground. “One hit from a bottle made you collapse? How lame” said Tom.

“What the? Oh it’s just you” said Tony as he looked up to see Tom. “Yeah it’s me. I wasn’t expecting to see you either. What are you doing in an alleyway?” asked Tom. “I should be the one asking you that” said Tony. “Well I asked you first anyway. Is there a reason why you’re wearing that uniform? Oh wait, don’t tell me. You’re planning on taking over the world again aren’t you?” asked Tom. “That’s none of your business. I just wanted some fresh air until I nearly got blasted by this person that you knocked out who decided chase me” said Tony. “I think they had a reason to chase you. You’re a wanted criminal” said Tom.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion” said Tony. “Well whatever the case is, I suggest you come with me” said Tom. “Yeah right. I don’t need a babysitter” said Tony. “Oh look, you’re coming with me” said Tom as he grabbed Tony by his arm. “Hey!” yelled Tony.

[Back At The House]

“Man, where did Tom go exactly? Did he went all the way to China to do his business or what?” asked Tord. “He must’ve of” said Matt. “Nah, he’s just running late. Uh..actually, I might call him” said Edd. “Don’t even bother, I’m right here” said Tom. “Tom!” said Matt. “What did I miss?” asked Tom.

“Oh you missed the party games that’s all” said Tord. “Wait, why is Tord here?” asked Tom. “Tom, don’t you remember? We’ve planned to do a hang out night” said Edd. “Oh yeah, that’s right. My bad” said Tom. “That’s okay. Where were you?” asked Edd. “I was in town getting something till….well….some complicated stuff happened, but it’s over” said Tom.

“Oh I see” said Edd. Suddenly a scream belonging to Matt can be heard. “Oh god…” said Tom. “Matt, what’s wrong?” asked Edd. “Guys, come quick! It’s horrible!” said Matt. Edd, Tom, and Tord quickly rushed to where Matt was and to their shock they saw Tony trying to calm him down.

However, despite his attempts, Matt ended up hugging Tony. “Tom, is there something that you’re not telling us?” asked Edd. “It’s not what it looks like, I swear” said Tom. “You brought Tony here, why thank you Tom” said Matt. “We’re not friends” said Tony. “Alright, alright, I’ll talk. I found Tony in an alleyway being chased by some stranger that wants to kill him for some unknown reason” said Tom.

“Oh….is this a Tom thing or something else?” asked Edd. “No it’s not” said Tom. As Tom was trying to prove that he wasn’t telling a lie, the figure from before was seen standing outside as they’ve walked passed by a freshly destroyed home belonging to the neighbors. “My things! My beautiful hard to replace things!” cried Mark. “Forget about your things! Our lives are way more important” said Eduardo. The figure continues walking down the block as they were using a heat seeking scanner to search for Tony. It wasn’t till red dots appeared on it which the figure goes to.

Meanwhile, Edd and Matt were giving first aid to Tony. “God…..this is so embarrassing….” mumbled Tony. “Hey Tony, what’s that on your leg?” asked Matt. “Oh, it’s a tracker. The police gave it to me” said Tony. “For what reason? Did you get by authorities after what you tried to do?” asked Edd. “No, I didn’t. I got reported by the one of residents on this street for scaring away kids. I’ve gotten a bunch of restraining orders” said Tony.

“I would’ve given you restraining order on the spot when I find out who you really are” said Edd. “Actually the kids were playing on my lawn. I’ve spent a lot of my time making it look good” said Tony. “Oh….” said Edd. “I never thought that I’ll be sharing this, but do you know how hard it is to prove the world that you’re not different?” asked Tony. “I know that feeling….kinda, but it’s nothing to worry about. I have my good looks and charm” said Matt. “Yeah…..you sure do. What are you going on about Tony?” asked Edd.

“All through my life, I had a passion to make the world a better place which is why I try to follow in my dad’s footsteps” said Tony. “Your dad’s the actual true leader of the Black Army?” asked Edd. “No. He’s actually a business man, but he’s mostly one of the most wealthiest in all of Europe and the world. He works at a manufacturing company where he rose through the ranks to CEO. He eventually became the boss and placed a bank in there. Plus, he’s also a lawyer as well” said Tony. “I see. That’s pretty cool to have a dad that’s rich” said Edd. “That reminds me, I believe that one of my mirrors was made in his factory line. Sweet!” said Matt. “It may be a blessing, but it’s also a curse. You see, my dad met my mom, who was at the time a secretary and was in charge of finances, after settling a deal with another company in Japan. They eventually got married and I was the first child to be born. I also have two other brothers by the way” said Tony.

“I thought you said that your mom used to beat you whenever she was drunk” said Matt. “I’m getting to that, you-………I mean….that is true. I have always looked at her as a loving parent that would shower me with gifts, but it turns out that she was a really bad alcoholic. How I knew this is because I somehow broke into her liquor cabinet and immediately told my dad as tears poured from my eyes after getting a large cut from the shards of an empty bottle” said Tony. “Geez….I am so sorry to hear that. How old were you exactly?” asked Edd. “I was only 8…..” said Tony. “Again, I am so sorry that you had to live through that. Luckily you’ve spent the rest of your life right here in England without having to worry about your mom” said Edd. “Actually, I only stayed in England for a few days. German was still my primary speaking language at the time. I left with some of my dad’s top guards on his private jet at the airport in London to America leaving my two brothers to be taken by my uncle and aunt. Once getting off the jet, I was taken to live with my grandparents” said Tony.

“Ah! So…how did you form the Black Army?” asked Edd. “Yeah and where you get the high tech technology and weaponry?” asked Matt. “That’s a simple question to answer. My dad is a multi-billionaire who made a total of €100,000,000,000 in less than five years. He gives me about €500,000 every month. With that kind of money, I am able to build my own army from scratch along with uniting dangerous crime gangs such as the yakuza and the mafia. I did all of this when realizing that the world is a cruel place unless you put your foot forward” said Tony. “That sounds great and all, but you’ve did raids on natural resources along with killing the people who live in the area. Sometimes you would take them in as slaves” said Edd. “Yeah I know, but someone had to do it” said Tony. After the conversation had ended, Edd, Matt, and Tony went back into the living where Tom and Tord were seen arguing.

“I’m telling you Tord, there is literally a murder chasing both me and Tony” said Tom. “Oh come on Tom, that guy can’t be chasing after you forever” said Tord. “Yeah you’re right. The guy would’ve stopped by- wait….is there something burning?” asked Tom as he suddenly smelt something. “Oh, it’s just my robotic arm. It overheats sometimes, but it should cool down in a few minutes” said Tord. “I’m not talking about that. I literally can smell wood burning, more like it being melted” said Tom. “Get off your high horse Tom. I think you need to see a doctor about your nose” said Edd.

What Tom said about wood being melted was actually true. The front door to the house suddenly gets melted down as the figure from before was seen. “AAAAH!!! Tom was right! The figure is real! Shield me! I’m too pretty to get my face melted like the door!” cried Matt as he hide behind Tom. “GET OFF OF ME!!!” yelled Tom. The figure comes into the house, slowly approaching their soon to be targets; however, Tord stands in front of his friends with his hands in his hoodie pocket. “Not so fast! You’re not laying a single finger on us when I’m here. Now face my true weapons of justice. Presenting the-…..forks of fury….?” said Tord as he takes out two plastic forks.

“……Classic stupid Tord….” said Tom. “Hehehe……we’re so dead” said Edd. “Oh no we’re not. Alright tin head, you’ve picked the wrong time and day to come here. Now I, Tord, will be teaching you a lesson” said Tord. The figure lets out a small chuckle. “Oh, how naïve of you. I’m so scared that I’m shaking in my own boors” said the figure with a deep robotic voice. “It’s over! You’re a bad guy and I’m a good guy. Let’s not forget that the good guys always win” said Tord.

“Foolish boy, don’t you get it? I am the good guy. I’m basically you and you are me” said the figure. “Wh-Whaaaaat…?” asked Tord. The figure takes of their helmet revealing them self as Tord’s future self who was officially wearing his Red Leader outfit and an eyepatch. Tord’s future self also has a few large scars on his face. “…..Th-This can’t be happening! ……I’m-I’m a good guy. I’m not supposed to be the Red Leader in the future. GET AWAY FROM ME!!!” yelled Tord. Future Tord watches as his own past self takes a step back in fear and disbelief as he immediately pounces. It wasn’t till he gets frozen solid by Tony’s freeze ray just in time.

[nicolefiona]

Why You Can Now Find Paul On Instagram

Some of you may have noticed… and especially if you are one of Paul’s friends or family reading this. That Paul has an Instagram account now… Sorta ;) I had actually had a second IG account – that I was kinda posting more private memories on there, which is why you will see a few posts on Paul’s account there from last year this time. It is also why you will find a few pics of me tagged on the account. And it is also why there was actually 2000 + people already following that account, although we have taken that following off of this account, as it would not be a very targeted audience.  At the point of me writing this post, it was exactly a year ago that I came to Bristol for the first time, and Paul and I met. And I would be lying if I didn’t admit this. But I knew very early on that I would be able to twist his little arm and get back on to social media. … And not for my benefit but for his.  Sometimes, I think it takes others seeing our best qualities and strong suits. And if you have met Paul, you know that his personality ( as cliché as this sounds ) – is his biggest and my most favourite quality. He will have you rolling on the floor with laughter within seconds of meeting him. He also has such a detailed eye for fashion – which sometimes I love… and sometimes he is way too daring with it for my tastes ( who has spotted the pinky ring, and or the clear framed glasses lol ).  The last thing that I will touch on, which… I did say that it wasn’t for my benefit, but I think this last point really is for my benefit – so I will just own it ! But for once, in my life – I have a boyfriend who actually looks good in a picture ! LOL ! I have a boyfriend who doesn’t look like the biggest dweeb when taking a photo with me ( if you know me,  you literally must know how over the moon I am with this ). I like to chalk this up to the fact that he has 3 sisters – and there is always a family photo session time whenever they gather together lol.  All this being said, these are some key reasons of why we have decided that it is time for Paul to start making a reappearance back on to social media. So, here they are: 1. Too many chiefs, not enough Indians – this probably isn’t the most politically correct saying anymore. But let me set the scene for you. One day this summer, we were supposed to be working on a campaign with Budweiser during the World Cup. Be it that we only had one part of the room decorated, and I was trying to make this piece of the content as visually appealing as possible, I thought that I would set up the camera, and have it capture us from one angle of the room.  Paul did not have the same view point as me lol. And I honestly think this was our first major argument. You see, I was wanting Paul to stand for this scene, in which we were supposed to be watching the soccer game, and he felt that it was not authentic as he would never stand to watch the soccer game.  LOL, looking back on it, what a ridiculous argument to have. But the reason of which I am telling you guys this story – is to explain to you that… Often when it comes to things we are creating content for, we have two different visions. Or maybe it is better said that we have one vision, but different ways of executing it. That the time has come for us to have separate platforms where we can both express ourselves creatively.  2. Not only do we have different creative direction sometimes… We both have different type of content that we would like to be creating. And that being said, we both have different end goals for what we would like to achieve in life.  For me, I would LOVE to open up a restaurant one day… Bet you didn’t see that coming. This is why you will probably see me going to the newest and best restaurants around the country. However Paul, he just loves to eat, but that does not mean he is as passionate about food as I am.  However, Paul – his passion is for fashion ( who has seen how much clothes this guy has ). And for me, I like clothes, I wear it, I like looking good. But that is as far as my passion goes for fashion.  So that being said, when we only use my Instagram account, and Paul wants me to post about his outfit details… Well, I don’t really want to put that on my feed, because it doesn’t really go with the type of content I like to post. And therefore, I don’t think it will go down well, because that is not why people have come to my feed.  3. I want to paint a quick picture for you…  Say you went into your work place, and your boss was going to offer you double your wage. Would you just leave that on the table ? Probably not eh?  The last thing that I wanted to talk about – is money, and I know that can be a bit of a tacky subject to talk about. But in typical Nicole fashion, I am pretty blunt about things. I am pretty to the point about things, and I think that it is the reality of the situation. And guys, you would probably be sick if you knew the amount of money we are leaving on the table by not having Paul do the whole blogging / influencing thing along side me.  I mean think of it this way, he is at most events with me. He is always taking pictures with me. He is getting to use a lot of the stuff that gets sent to us, and his perspective is usually wanted. So why would we not capitalize on that, especially when he has the skills and interest to make him so good at it ?  Truthfully, I imagine that there will be a little push back on this from some of the people in and around our lives here in Bristol. Which is the exact reason of why I wanted to paint that little picture for you first. And it is exactly why, if you are reading this, I am going to ask you – to place yourself in that scenario and ask yourself if faced with it, would you be leaving that type of finances on the table when trying to build your life and your future.  The answer is most likely, probably not. I hope if you were or are among the curious on this topic that it answers any questions for you & and I hope that you will be supportive of the both of us with it going forward =)

[travelling-trooper-blog]

Remember Anna from Lochness? (The one beside me.)

Well, our paths crossed again in Munich. Though she’s from Berlin, Anna is doing an internship in Munich, and so she was kind enough to host us for the weekend even though she had to move to a new place on Sunday. And remember Felice, Anna’s friend from Berlin? (I sadly forgot to snap a picture with her.) She was visiting for the weekend as well. Reunion time!

We arrived in Munich and walked over to Anna’s place, which was mercifully nearby. Anna was actually in the process of getting ready to meet up with some friends, and so she invited us to tag along. They were going to a jazz jam session. (Two nights in a row!) This was more of a social event than a music event, though. The music was just on in the background.

I got to meet more of Anna’s friends that night, including Max, Kathi, and Marie. We all hit it off, and at the end of the night, they extended an invitation to join them on a hike the following day. Unfortunately, the hike never happened, as the forecast didn’t agree with us.

Instead, we agreed to meet up in the afternoon to catch a documentary. In the meantime, I spent the day exploring the many sights of Munich.

First up: This thing.

It’s a double helix-shaped steel staircase standing over 30 feet tall. Its name, Umschreibung, translates to periphrasis according to the artist. This means “a movement without destination, a space defined by motion rather than walls.” I think my favourite thing about the structure is its location. It’s attached to an office building, which kind of reminds us of the futility of our work lives.

We continued along, intending to find the Beer and Oktoberfest Museum, but stumbled upon a few nice things along the way, like St. Paul’s Church.

There was also the Munchner Stadtmuseum, which is a museum dedicated to the city of Munich. Sometimes I just can’t resist museums, so we ventured in.

There were a few interesting things, but overall, I wish we’d passed on this museum. Mainly because a lot of the information gleamed here can be found in other places when walking around the city. (If you have the right tour guide, of course.) Plus, while the audio guide did help, a lot of the information was only available in German, so a vast majority of the exhibits were of no use to us.

Henry the Lion, founder of Munich

I want this to be my beer stein. That’s the Old Court of Munich.

Munich kinda looks like a giant crossbow.

You’ll see the real one later on.

These Morris dancers are doing an official German dance. Following the plague, people were terrified to go outside. In fact, it was illegal to stand in groups larger than two. For some reason that was lost on us, bakers were the first ones to venture out into the city once the Plague was gone. They danced merrily through the city.

I wanted to play.

You’ll also see these guys later on. They are four cherubs fighting a snake, lion, dragon, and a basilisk. (The audio guide claims it’s a basilisk, but after Harry Potter, I thought a basilisk was a snake. Apparently it’s a mix of a cockerel and a serpent. Anybody have Ms. Rowling’s phone number or e-mail so I can shoot her a quick query?) The four creatures represented Munich’s fight against war (lion), hunger (dragon), heresy (snake), and the plague (basilisk).

Just another day in Munich. A hanging, two dudes riding a wooden donkey because they’re jackasses, sword fight, a guy taking a dump in the corner. You know–the usual. This is called The Munich Market Place at the Time of the Thirty Years War.

This fella won a jousting tournament. To ensure that he would get into his lady’s undergarments that night, he was so confident about his victory that he found out what the lady would be wearing that day and wore some sort of doll on his helmet that sported a dress just like hers. Whatever works, man.

Knights were a lot shorter than I thought. Movies lied to me.

This seemed a bit out of place, but hey, art is art.

There were a bunch of really cool posters advertising the 1972 Olympics in Munich.

The third floor had a really interesting exhibit on this guy Kurt Eisner. It was unfortunately a bit of a familiar story. Political parties spit anti-Semitic rhetoric to pull policy opinions in their favour. He railed against the limiting constraints of the existing political system, despite the fact that his beliefs alienated him from parties on both sides. He believed in redefining the political landscape for the benefit of the people. I wanted to read more about him, but I was getting tired of the museum at that point, and was in need of some fresh air. I’ll definitely look into Mr. Eisner in greater length down the road.

Found a nice little market on a street corner and had this deep fried little dish. It certainly was no beavertail, but it was alright.

It’s beer o’clock! Time to hit up the Beer and Oktoberfest Museum!

Fun fact: Prior to Industrialization, the greatest contributors to the development of the brewing process were monks. They brewed it for themselves, as well as for financial gain.

In the 19th century, inns became the most popular place to grab a drink. Farmers from outside the city would find themselves an inn after selling their goods at a market and discuss their success at the market.

From the 17th century to the beginning of the 19th century, there were roughly 60 brewers in Munich. There were strict regulations stating that no additives were to be added to their product, so brewers had to hope their products didn’t go bad or they didn’t experience crop failure. Many literally turned to gods and supernatural beliefs to pray for the protection of their products.

Eventually, beer barons challenged these regulations and invested in new technology that helped make brewing beer on a larger scale possible. These new breweries pushed out the little guy, who could no longer keep up with these fancy new cooling systems and controlled processes of the bigger breweries. By the end of the 19th century, Munich was home to just 16 large breweries. With mergers, takeovers, and bankruptcy, that number has since dwindled down to six.

The brewing boom provided great Economic growth for Munich. Who says beer is no good for you?

The two photos on the bottom left are of two successful beer barons. Just look at the stache on that guy, though. It just screams beer baron. Also, is it just me, or does he kind of look like Al Pacino?

Following Industrialization and all of this free time on their hands, people developed a thirst for public entertainment. Oktoberfest began to attract the fun, the strange, the erotic, and the exotic.

Some things never change…

Time to hit da club, right ladies?!

It’d be great if this is what made the news these days instead of all the ugly crap going on everywhere.

I was really hoping they’d have a poster of this at the gift shop.

There was no sign in English so I don’t know what’s going on here, but it seemed just a tad sacreligious, no? The world’s first beer cooler, maybe?

One day my stein collection will look like this. But hey, THEY don’t have a Viking drinking horn, so HA!

And now, on to the beautiful city itself with our old friend Izi the walkin tour app.

This is the National Theatre. That fella waving at you is the first King of Bavaria, ol’ Maximillion I. The theatre was built in the early 1800s and features a couple prrty gables up top–one of the Greek and Roman God Apollo, and one of Pegasus.

The outer walls and columns were miraculously left standing after the WWII bombings. However the inside and the lower gable had to be rebuilt.

Then in 1968, the theatre caught fire in the dead of winter. With all of the water having turned to ice, Germans used their beloved beer to try to put out the fire.

The government put a heavy tax on beer to finance yet another reconstruction of the theatre.

These statues just outside the Residenz Palace, which is a former royal palace, are considered symbols of good luck. Tourists passing by rub the nose of the little creature at the bottom–hence why he looks so polished.

The story goes that some young prankster once put out flyers everywhere documenting the King’s promiscuous ways. Once the king found out about this, he ordered that the person who did the prank come forward. I’m not exactly sure why, but the kid did just that. When the king found out he was just a boy, he let him off with a stern warning. The kid ran out before the king could change his mind, counted his lucky stars, and rubbed the statue’s nose on his way out. And people have been rubbing that nose since then.

Directly across from the statues lies this tiny little alley, which is officially called Viscardigasse. However during the war, it was known as Druckebergergasse, meaning Avoider’s Alley. Not everybody supported the Nazi regime. On the Residenz Street side of the Felderrnhalle stood a Nazi memorial with guards posted all day. Anybody who walked past was expected to give the Nazi salute. In order to continue on towards Feldhernnhalle and avoid having to give the salute, some people would walk down Viscardi Alley and continuing north from the other side. If you look closely, you’ll see a bronze path cutting through the alley. This is to honour the people who defied the Nazi regime and chose not to give the salute.

Welcome to the Theatinerkirche. This badass Italian Baroque church has a pretty cool story behind it. The King and queen, Ferdinand and Adelheid, were arranged to be married. However, they didn’t actually meet until a year after being married. The king sent a stunt double to fill in for him on the day of the wedding!

People became stressed because the couple couldn’t conceive a child, and so they wouldn’t be able to continue the long-standing tradition of rich white people inheriting unearned power. Adeheid was so stressed by this that she became deathly ill–twice. She received her last rites both times. This traumatizing experience bonded the couple together very closely.

They prayed to Saint Kajetan and promised to build a church in his honour should they be blessed with a son. Shortly after, Adelheid gave birth to a daughter, and two years later, the highly anticipated Max Emmanuel was born. And so, the two statues up to are of Adelheid and Ferdinant, and the two states on the bottom are Saint Kajetan and Saint Maximillian, the inspiration for their son’s name.

Just to the left of the church in Odeonsplatz is Feldhernhalle. King Ludwig I built this in the mid 1800s as a memorial to the commanders of the Bavarian army. (Feldherrnhalle translates to Commander’s Hall.)

This is one of the most unusual memorials I’ve ever seen. It’s called the White Rose memorial. I never would have noticed it had I not visited the Atlas Obscura website and read about it. It’s placed at the entrance of the LMU School of Law. As a tourist, though, you’d never have reason to venture from the main street and walk along this path, where you’d find the memorial, which is in honour of siblings Hans and Sophie Scholl. They practiced non-violent resistance against the Nazi regime, often handing out leaflets and writing political graffiti throughout the city. They were sadly captured by the Gestapo on February 18, 1943, along with other White Rose members, for handing out leaflets, and were executed four days later for their brave efforts.

There are apparently many White Rose memorials scattered around Munich, but this one is considered to be the most powerful one. Bronze replicas of the leaflets that got the members arrested are embedded along the cobblestone entrance to the university. This site marks where they were arrested.

Of course, no visit to Munich would be complete without checking out the heart of the city: Marienplatz. This is kind of the birthplace of Munich. Remember Henry the Lion from the Munchen Stadtmuseum? He burned down the toll bridge to the north of the city and built his own over the Isar River to reroute the salt merchant trading route through his city. The resulting trade route, which offered salt, sgrain, and various other goodies, gave Munich a huge economic boost. The fountain off to the right was used to keep fish fresh in the markets during the Middle Ages.

This magnificent building, which seems to also function as an art gallery and shopping mall, is actually the new City Hall. The old City Hall is off to the right. The new one had to be built to respond to the growing needs of the city. It was built over 100 years ago and took 40 years to construct.

The Glockenspiel, like the rest of the building, is pretty damn ornate. The figures are life-size up close. They come to life three times a day. The upper level reenacts a tournament from the 16th century, which was held to celebrate the marriage of Duke Wilhelm the fifth to Renata von Lothringen. Part of the celebration is a jousting duel. Apparently when the losing knight gets knocked down, somebody has to put him back sitting upright. That’s somebody’s job–knight sitter-upper. And it’s been like that for a hundred years now.

Remember the cherubs from the Munchen Stadmuseum? Here they are as well. They are protecting the Virgin Mary. Our old friend Maxi I declared Mary the patron Saint of Bavaria and thanked her for her protection of the city from Swedish invasion.

I mentioned before that one of the cherubs is fighting a dragon, which is supposed to represent the Plague. Well legend has it that on one quiet day over Marienplatz, a dragon appeared in the sky and spread the Plague to the people below. A brave knight shot that sucker down with a cannon shot to the heart. This makes no sense on two levels. 1) How does a dragon spread the Plague? 2) If Knighty McKnight killed the dragon, why did the Plague still go on?

Well anywho, that’s the story behind this random dragon on one of the building’s corners.

After a day of strolling around Munich, it was time to meet up with Anna and her friends. We had agreed to watch a documentary called Walk With Me at 5:00. It was alright. It was about a Zen Buddhist Master and spiritual leader named Thich Nhat Hanh and some of his followers at the Plum Village meditation centre in France. I wasn’t crazy about the first half of the movie because I thought they would talk more about Thich Nhat Hanh’s history, his exile from Vietnam, or the art of mindfulness itself, but they kind of just followed various monks around for the first 40 minutes or so. It was also a bit annoying for me personally because when there was dialogue, it was often in French with German subtitles, so I had no idea what was being said.

The second half was a lot more interesting because a bunch of the monks went to America for a spiritual seminar/event, and then you got to see them reconnect with their friends and family. Those stories and those connections were far more interesting than the first half of the movie. For example one woman visits her father in the nursing home, and he breaks down in tears of joy at the sight of her. That was pretty cool.

After the movie, Max took us on a bit of a walking tour of Munich, since he used to work as a tour guide. We visited a lot of the places Trevor and I had already visited during the day, but that was fine. I impressed everybody with my knowledge of the Baroque church.

At the end of our little tour, Max took us to one of his favourite watering holes for a pint. Everybody left after the pint because they had places to be, but Trevor and I stuck around, and we ended up befriending these beautiful ladies, Nicole and Yoko. It’s always great day when you make a new friend or two. Especially if one of those friends buys you a beer.

The Travelling Trooper Meanders Around Munich Remember Anna from Lochness? (The one beside me.) Well, our paths crossed again in Munich. Though she's from Berlin, Anna is doing an internship in Munich, and so she was kind enough to host us for the weekend even though she had to move to a new place on Sunday.

[sarahsadventuresineurope-blog]

5/22/2017

wow i suck and i have so much to catch up on...

so some cool things

- india’s host mom works at rathaus schonenburg which is where jfk gave his famous ich bin ein berliner speech, so we got to tour that and stand on the balcony where he spoke

- the day after i wrote, 4/9 was the hertha vs. ausburg soccer game. went with chandler, jessy, amelia, grant and paul. it was fun! got drunk and watched the game

- sometime that weekend we went to afrohaus and chandler lost her phone that night :(

the next weekend was dublin, the last trip we did together as a group. we flew thursday night at like 10pm and arrived at the hostel past midnight. it was a 22 person hostel so we just went straight to bed. the next day we just walked around and explored dublin, like the dublin castle and the trinity college library. that night we went to the dog races since it was good friday and they dont sell alcohol in the city. it was a shit show, we all got plastered and found out the dogs werent even actually racing there lol. jessy got cat called by some man and we talked with this syrian security guard who said he liked trump which was weird. i had a weird breakdown that night about being insecure about being asian with all my white friends and not being pretty like them/being started at/being made fun of or whatever lololol. after we went back to the hostel and amelia had her shitshow of throwing up everywhere and on chandlers backpack/passport. she didnt remember the next day lol. the next day we did the guiness tour, that was really cool. after we went to this really good irish pub for lunch and i had irish beef stew and it was so good. we went out that night to bars in temple bar and that was so so fun! so many good live performers and good drinks. the next day was our last day, we just had a good irish breakfast, then some dessert, then took a bus to the airport. 

- got a tour of the finance ministry, which is a nazi built building in my architecture class

- saw the north korean embassy lol

the next trip was the excusrsion! frankfurt and prague. we took a train to frankfurt and when we got there we took a nap hahah then we got up and had dinner at this thai restaurant. it was actually pretty good, first time having thai food in germany. after, we went to this craft beer place called naaiv, turned out to be one of my fave places ever!!

the next day we went on a tour of the city, it was very lame lol. we had chipotle for lunch which was so nice to have after so long without it. the rest of the day was a blur because we did lame things bc frankfurt is lame lol. i think we went out to this ratchet club that night, and it was just very ratchet haha. first we went to the bars and that was like a cool area but it was really ratchet and like super cheap and trashy guys lol. the next day we went to heidelburg, a cute town nearby. we walked around the cute downtown, then went up to the castle and just hung out there and took pics and stuff. after we went back and didnt do much again. the next day was the european central bank. this i was excited for because i thought it would be a cool tour, but nope we just got talked at about economic policy for two hours lol. after we went shopping for a couple hours so that was cool. had a good lunch/dinner at this fit food place haha. then went back and napped more. for dinner we went to this sushi place and it was pretty good. then we went back to naaiv to have a couple last beers bc it was our last night in frankfurt. it was nice bonding with diane and marie and lily that night (besides that i hate lily glynn lol)

the next day we took the train to prague. got there, got settled in, rested, ate dinner at the hotel, then went out to the ruins bar. that was sooooo sooo cool! there was a bit of drama but we didnt let that ruin our experience. the next day was another city tour but it was sad and rainy and a shitty tour. we went to a bunch of jewish things - synagogues, funerals. after we got daaaaaank pasta for lunch that mikayla recommended. it was actually amazing haha. next we went to the prague castle which had a really cool cathedral. that night we hit up a couple bars then went out with ethan’s friends who were studying in prague to this place called retro music hall. it was absolute trash ahahha like american study abroad students just being fucked up. the next day we got up and went to the charles bridge, then to the john lennon wall. after we went and got czech food, then we went to this tour with the program to these underground cave things under the old city hall with the famous clock. that night we went to the famous 5 story club and it sucked besides the hot check coat guy lol. the music sucked besides the “chill” floor which was kinda like berlin techno. oh before, we stumbled upon this weird czech bar and we ordered drinks and there was this creepy fucked up old man trying to talk to us and then a loud group of guys hitting a raw chicken on the table LOLOL. so weird. anyways, david was really weird and mean that night and it stemmed my annoyance of him to this day of not wanting to talk to him lol. the next day we took a bus to this castle an hour away, i was so so so hungover lol. after, we had the jazz boat tour. then we took the overnight bus to budapest after the boat tour. that was prague!

okay next is budapest! arrived at like 7am, got really fucking high for the bus ride before it and i was like lowkey freaking out bc i was so high haha. but got there okay, didn’t sleep well bc the roads sucked. got eggs benedict for breakfast, then walked around the city. hiked up this hill to these statues, walked down to this cool government building, went to the hostel to nap, went out to dinner then to a bar, then to a club. next day we went to the baths, then on the beer biking tour. after we stumbled upon this market and ate some good hungarian food. after we went to the 360 bar to watch the sunset and it was so pretty. after that we went back to the hostel area and got dinner then went back to the hostel and slept. i threw up when i got back lol i was quite drunk. next morning woke up to get an early flight back to berlin!

may day! got ready, went to tino’s to pregame, left tinos, got burgermeister and just went to goilitzer. 

CONT. later lol

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (gene/paul, nc-17) (part 25 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29 

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter:  Gene makes a housecall; Paul gets some advice from Ace over the phone.

 It wasn’t a long ride over to that dingy apartment complex.

            Gene didn’t know what he was expecting. The place didn’t look any better in the daylight, and when he got out of the car, he saw his driver reach over his seat and start locking all the car doors. He stepped inside alone, walking the craggy flights of steps up to her old apartment number, knocking on the door in what he knew had to be a useless endeavor.

            He was a little hopeful when a different girl answered. A pretty thing, really, with curly black hair and sad eyes. A really pretty thing, he could tell that even from the scant few inches she opened the door.

            “Yes?”

            “Hey.” Gene paused. “I was here a few nights ago. I was wondering if you had a forwarding address for someone who used to live here, Carol—"

            “Carol left a couple weeks ago.”

            “I know. I’m just trying to find where she went after that.”

            “She didn’t pay her share of the rent.” The girl looked Gene up and down, from the baggy sweatpants to the old floral shirt. “We had to kick her out.”

            “I know, I—”

            “Did something bad happen? Are you with the police or something?”

            “I’m not with the police.” Gene tried to think. If the roommates had kicked her out, then that meant she hadn’t been on the lease, right? The apartment manager would’ve had to have her forwarding address if she had been. Wasn’t that how it worked? “She got into some trouble with a rockstar.”

            “Trouble?” The girl repeated, with more innocence than Gene could readily believe, at first. “She kept trying to hex one. Kathy got pissed when she spilled some offering on the carpet…”

            “Yeah, trouble.” Gene tried to infuse the word with its usual meaning. Babies and under the table payoffs. He couldn’t tell if she took the bait or not. “Can you help me?”

            “Her mom lives in Virginia,” she offered. “She’s not from there, though, I think she’s from… I don’t know, Minnesota or Michigan… somewhere that starts with an M…”

            That was barely better than no help at all. He tried to pay attention as the girl kept trailing off.

            “Her mom’s got scads of money from her dad dying. She helps her out a lot. Carol said if we’d just give her a couple more days, then she’d be good for the next three months. Swore it. Kathy and Bunny wouldn’t have it, though, ’cause between the rent and the occult stuff, she was too wild for us, and—”

            “Do you have her mother’s address?”

            “No. Well…” She pursed her lips, thinking, and then held a finger up. “Let me look around, maybe there’s an envelope…”

            And she scurried back from the door, still leaving it open those few inches as she rummaged around, the door chain keeping him from seeing much of the place at all. He waited, listening to her scuffle across the apartment, rustling through papers, until finally that dark cloud of hair peeked back into existence at the door.

            “No. I’m sorry. Oh, but she used to go to discos! You might wanna check CBGB, or the Ice Pa—”

            “I’ve done it already,” Gene said, and walked away.

--

            No good. It had been stupid to hope for any new insight. If he really wanted to push it, there was the possibility of finding Carol at 54 again tonight, but Gene doubted she’d be there, and he doubted Paul would want to go there again. He wouldn’t leave Paul at home by himself for a venture like that, either.

            Gene had his driver take him to the nearest supermarket immediately after. The driver had weakly offered to take him to a better part of town, but Gene hadn’t cared enough to go those few extra miles for a little more security.

            He’d never really gotten his own groceries. When he was off tour, at home, he ate out more often than not, or he went to his mother’s. She always had a smorgasbord at the ready. Always cooking. Gene remembered that early on during tours, when money was tight, Paul and Peter would take it upon themselves to make dinners for the band—they weren’t great—but at least they actually knew what to get and how to fix it. Gene was pushing his shopping cart through the aisles, looking at rows of dried and canned goods and feeling mildly stumped by the whole affair. He’d never paid much attention to how his mother cooked anything, just the end result, so any comfort food from when he’d grown up was out. But maybe…

            He settled on a few bottles of Tab, since Peter and Ace had gotten into Paul’s supply of them prior, and then some spaghetti noodles and canned tomatoes. That seemed depressing, so he doubled back to retrieve some fresh tomatoes, mushrooms, and onions as well. Maybe it wouldn’t be that great of a follow-up to matzo ball soup, if he ended up getting it, but it was definitely an improvement to eating peanut-butter sandwiches for dinner. Then he got a box of vanilla wafers, a package of chocolate-chip cookies, and a bunch of bananas.

            Gene was nearing the check-out lanes when he felt someone’s eyes on him. He stiffened and stopped, opting not to turn around—it was probably some kid who’d recognized him. Funny how, as long as he’d been with Paul, he hadn’t gotten spotted for who he was once, except on purpose. He pretended to focus all his attention on the label on a bottle of honey, picking it up and inspecting it, waiting for the passerby to either come closer or move on ahead. In a few seconds, he had it—a girl actually scurrying past. A small girl, only carrying a shopping basket and a purse. If he hadn’t caught a glimpse of her pale, freckled face, he wouldn’t have realized who she was.

            Absolutely unbelievable. He had to have expended all his luck over the next three years. Quickly, he pushed his cart to the side and tapped her shoulder before she could make it to the check-out line. She turned around, staring at him, eyes wide and stunned. She tried to take a step back, stopping short of even that movement.

            “Good morning, Carol.”

--

            Paul woke up abruptly. The day’s newspaper was on Gene’s side of the bed, the sections separated and askew. He didn’t bother pushing them aside, just reached over to check the clock on the nightstand, finding the note Gene left behind. He reread it once, twice, trying to ignore the paranoid, curdling sensation in his gut, the idea that Gene might have just gotten tired of him and tried to find a quick exit, at least for awhile. He wouldn’t have blamed him, not after last night. Not after four nights and five days of putting up with him.

            But Gene was bringing him back food. No, more than that, he was bringing him back matzo ball soup and probably a deli sandwich, and whatever Gene thought constituted real groceries. If he was really leaving, he wouldn’t have bothered to specify. Gene must’ve assumed Paul would sleep late enough to start the day with lunch, and, looking at the clock, he hadn’t been too far off. It was fifteen until eleven.

            He sighed, stretching out a bit before getting up and pulling on some clothes. All he had left was the dress he’d bought, the one he’d decided wasn’t nice enough for Studio 54. Just a cream and gold colored sundress. Softer colors than he’d usually have opted for. He picked absently at the thin straps. He never felt more fake than when he was alone, even before all this happened.

            The phone rang before he could decide what else to do, whether to wait on Gene or eat something or waste awhile in front of the T.V. It startled him a little. Ever since Gene had come, he’d rarely been in the house enough to hear it ring. Another cushion from reality.

            He ignored it. It kept ringing. Six times. Seven. Eventually, the answering machine tape started up, and he heard his own, actual voice, another piece of bewilderment.

            “Hey, this is Paul Stanley. If you’ll leave your name and number, I’ll be in touch as soon as I can. Thanks.”

            “Paul, this is Ace, I—”

            Paul grabbed the phone, sudden relief flooding into him.

             “Ace?”

            “Who’s this?” A pause, and then. “Paul?”

            Paul leaned over the answering machine, gingerly unplugging it to keep the tape from running while he spoke.

            “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.”

            “Sorry I’m late calling. Gene got you back home the other night?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Still not normal yet.” Ace sighed. “What’s she want out of you? You never told me.”

            “Nothing I can’t do.”

            “Virgin sacrifice?”

            Paul froze up for a second, the phone feeling like a rock in his hand. No way had Gene told the guys. No way. It was a moment or two before he could force a small laugh.

            “You’re not too far off.”

            “Shit, do you have to kill someone? Keep the tits, it’s not worth—”

            “No! I—forget it, man. I don’t have to hurt anybody. I can do it.”

            He expected Ace to push for a better answer than that, but he didn’t. God. Ace knew the fate of the whole band sat right on Paul’s shoulders, and yet he didn’t want to ask for a better explanation. Maybe he didn’t give a fuck. Maybe he wanted to go out on his own. Maybe him and Peter were just chomping at the bit to splinter off from the group. Why shouldn’t they? Paul was ruining everything for them just as readily as he was ruining everything for Gene. Paul took a deep breath, tried to convince himself he wasn’t being rational, but the impressions were still wobbling in his brain even when Ace started to talk again.

            “Peter was gonna check on you, but he’s still kinda…” Ace trailed. “So I told him not to worry about it. You okay?”

            “I’m fine.”

            “You really okay?”

            “Yeah, Ace.”

            “Nobody screwed around with you?”

            “Ace, if you want a play-by-play of two nights ago, I’m sure you—”

            “Okay, okay. Just making sure. Pete’s real worried about you.”

            “’M okay.”

            “He lit into Gene for letting you go off.”

            “He shouldn’t have. It was fine.” God. Gene had told him. Or Peter had called the house. One or the other. Paul swallowed. Something about it hurt, almost made his eyes burn. Weird, how that was. Weird how knowing all the guys really did give a shit about him would be enough to nearly induce tears. Maybe he was just that stressed and worn out. He could almost picture Ace’s mild, affable, probably-hungover look, and that helped him blink back anything incriminating.

            “Oh, and you got in the paper, too.”

            “No shit?”

            “No shit. Not front page, but you’re in the entertainment section—”

            Paul scrambled for the newspaper, flipping through the sections. He nearly didn’t recognize his own picture—funny, when he’d been staring at that face for over a week now—but there he was, arm and arm with Gene in a corner photo. Gene’s face was still covered, and Paul was leaning in heavily against him, mouth parted in a strained attempt at a smile. Two days ago. Two days ago and the firmness and warmth of Gene’s hold, the smell of his sweat, all of that had only gotten all the more familiar. All the more something he needed instead of just longed for. Something secure. Something meaningful.

            “Gene got his picture after all.”

            “Huh?”

            “Nothing. ‘Tongue-waggling KISS bassist Gene Simmons cozies up to a Miss Isen at Studio 54,’” Paul read dryly. “They misspelled my name.”

            “You look sweet.”

            “I look awful.”

            “Give yourself some credit. You make a hot chick.” Ace laughed. Not maliciously. Paul didn’t think the guy was really capable of being malicious. He hesitated, running his free hand down his knee, smoothing the material of the dress, before responding.

            “Can I ask you something, Ace?”

            “Sure, Paulie.”

            “It’s a… it’s a thought experiment.”

            “Don’t get all pretentious and shit. I know you dropped out of college.”

            Paul had never been more grateful that he couldn’t see Ace on the other end of the line. He’d have given himself away already otherwise. He swallowed thickly.

            “Ace—this is all just—hypothetical. Let’s say… let’s say you got told you could have what you wanted.”

            “Then I’d wait on the catch.”

            Paul could feel his mouth twitch up into an unwilling, dry smile.

            “The catch is, you could only get it once, and that was it. Just once. Would you still take it?”

            Ace didn’t hesitate.

            “Yeah.”

            “Why?”

            “’Cause I’d rather have something once than never have it.”

            “I’m not like that. If I couldn’t—if I couldn’t keep having something, I’d never—”

            “All or nothing, right, Paul?” Paul could hear Ace rustling something on the other end of the line. Papers, maybe. “You can’t go through life like that, you’ll never be satisfied. You gotta compromise.”

            “You compromise everything.”

            “’M happier for it.”

            “You can’t be. Compromising… it’s just giving up, isn’t it?”

            “No. Paulie—” Ace made a short, weird sound, almost like he was sucking the spit off his teeth. “You always think you’re figuring on the long term, and you’re not.”

            “I am—”

            “You’re not. Hear me out, man. You think there’s any guarantees anywhere? Look at the band—”

            “This isn’t about the band—”

            “’S just an example. We got our big hit. Now what if—what if that’s the best we ever do? Whether you get your dick back or not, what if that’s as good as it ever gets?”

            “That… that can’t happen.” It felt like something was stuck in his throat. This wasn’t how he’d expected this to go, not at all. “We just got really big, it can’t be over that quick. There’s no way. Ace, we…”

            “What if it is, Paul? What would you say?” Ace’s words sped up in a still-lazy rattle. “What if we go bust a year from now?”

            “Don’t talk like that, man.”

            “You need to hear it. This ain’t gonna last any way you slice it, don’t kid yourself.” Paul’s stomach churned as he heard the click of a pop top on the other end of the line, and Ace taking a swig and a swallow. “We’ll wear out our welcome. Maybe we already have. Nobody lasts in music.”

            “Elvis—”

            “Elvis is a joke, Paulie.” Another long gulp. “And if you get past his age, what else d’you got? You got—you got Bing Crosby dragging his own corpse out there every fucking year for his Christmas special. Been wailing out ‘White Christmas’ since World War II. If we’re still playing ‘Cold Gin’ when we’re forty-five, I hope to God someone takes us out back and shoots us.”

            Paul chewed his lip. He felt grimmer now than when he’d picked up the phone, almost distracted out of what he’d really been trying to ask of Ace. Ace, who kept up with weird shit like space shuttles and went on drunken rambles about the aliens who’d made him small. Ace, who he’d assumed was just along for the ride on everything. Paul felt an odd curdling in his gut, something like shame for assuming he and Gene were the only ones who ever thought ahead. For writing off Ace and Peter like their myriad addictions made them stupid.

            “Shit, Ace, you’re usually a little more positive—”

            “’M just trying to make a point here.” Ace blew out a breath loud enough that Paul could hear it over the phone. “If this is as good as it gets, would you say you don’t want it? Would you say you wanted to turn it all back around? Me and you driving cabs? Gene teaching school again? Pete—”

            “No!”

            “Why not?”

            “Because we’re gonna do better than that, that’s why! I-I’ll write whatever crossover songs I’ve got to, we’ll keep on touring, and—”

            “But you don’t know that.”

            “I do know that!”

            “Nah, Paulie. You don’t know that.” Ace let out an odd sound, halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “You’re just betting on it. Ought to bet on something a little more certain.”

            “Like what?”

            “Like Geno getting over you not having tits.”

            “What?”

            “You heard me.”

            “That’s got nothing to do with—did he—shit, what did he tell you?”

            “Jesus, your voice gets real squeaky. Did it always do that?” Ace said it so mildly, as always. Ace couldn’t even bitch properly when Paul had his whole career dangling on the line. “I haven’t talked to him since we came over.”

            “Then—”

            “You’re like a glass of water, Paulie, just see-through. You ain’t fooling anyone. Listen, do what you’ve gotta do. But don’t do it based on anybody but yourself.”

            “I’ll call you back later, Ace.”

            “Okay, girlie.”

            Paul hung up before Ace managed a goodbye on the other end. His heart was thudding harder than ever.

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 12 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29 Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Ace and Peter discuss Paul’s crisis, with and without him, and Paul gives Gene some lessons.

            Peter and Ace stuck around for a couple hours. Long enough that Paul heated up the leftover pizza for them, and Gene ended up getting two more delivered, while the forgotten remains of both their Dairy Queen milkshakes just melted in Paul’s car. Paul confessed to nearly everything, from when Gene had first come over to the call to Steve Rubell’s secretary.

           Peter had been pretty loath to talk about witchcraft and ways to alleviate the curse at any real length. It seemed to make him as queasy as it did Gene. Ace, on the other hand, perused Paul’s occult books for awhile, and offered to scour some old hippie contacts and see if they still knew any witches.

           “Or Suzie. But she would’ve told you herself if she knew anyone good.” Ace had shrugged, devouring another slice of pizza. “Thing is… thing is, you’re better off going to the source.  You just don’t wanna mess with it yourself if you don’t have to. You got really fucked up. You don’t wanna risk making it any worse, getting someone else to try to fix it.”

           “You think someone might turn me into a frog on accident?”

           Ace had laughed.

          “We could get you a cute costume that way. What d’you think, Geno?”

          “We could get him a cute costume now.”

          “Bet you already have.”

          Paul’s face went red. Ace winked.

          “But… really, thing is, this kind of shit isn’t your basic curse.”

          “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

          “Y’know, bad luck for a couple months, bad acne, psoriasis, that kinda curse.” Ace ran a thumb across his own pockmarked cheek, then added, unnecessarily, “I’ve had this since I landed on Earth, it ain’t a curse—but that’s about all most witches could’ve done to you.”

          “Anybody ever do anything to you, Ace?” Paul asked. It was a pretty fair question, Gene felt like. Ace used to run with a weird crowd. Still did. But Ace shook his head.

          “Nah. Well, Suzie told me KISS’d never get a number-one single here. But that was more of a prediction—”

          “She’s wrong.” Gene dismissed her out of hand. Across from him, sitting on the coffee table, Peter nodded in agreement. Ace shrugged.

          “What I mean is, it could take awhile to fix, and that’s if she wants to fix it.”

          “Ace, we’re not canceling the tour.”

          “’M not saying cancel.” Ace gnawed heavily on his lip. Gene could tell he was just about to ask Paul for a beer. “But how far back do you think we could push it? Couple months?”

          “We couldn’t push it back any without Bill wanting a reason why,” Gene said flatly.

          “So let’s give him a reason why.” Ace exhaled. “I’ll… y’know, I never did have a big honeymoon with Jeanette. I could tell him I wanted three weeks for that.”

          “That’s only three weeks—”

           “Yeah, but…” Ace reached for the Tab Peter had been drinking out of, finishing it off with a gulp. “It’s about buying time. We could keep on finding excuses if we had to.”

           “I don’t want you to have to,” Paul said. “I don’t want to fuck things up for everybody.”

           The silence lingered for several moments. No one said a word to argue his point. Paul’s gaze lowered to one of the cardboard pizza boxes, and, next to it, the box of Gene’s Studio 54 clothes. Finally, Peter spoke.

           “You can’t help it, Paulie. We’re gonna do what we can.” He rubbed his arm. “Could probably get my doctor to say I’ve gotta take off another month if I have to.”

           “Don’t say anything yet.”

           “I won’t. We won’t.” Peter hesitated. “Hey, you want us coming to 54 with you tonight?”

           Ace perked up.

           “That’d help. Four guys looking for the same girl. One of us could be in the basement, one in the VIP lounge upstairs—”

           “You’d just be fucking in the basement,” Paul accused dryly.

           “It’s good for running into people. Groupies all over there. Besides, Steve’s bunch is just as loaded as he is. They may not remember what girl you wanted.”

           Ace had a point. Gene mulled it over, glancing at Paul, who nodded, before he answered.

           “Yeah, okay. But not all in the same limo.”

           “Aw, c’mon! Why not?”

           “It’d attract too much attention. Everyone would be wondering where Paul was.”

           “Me and Pete’ll go together. We’ll get there later so it’s not as obvious.” Ace took another slice of pizza. “Remind me again, yeah? Brown hair, freckles, short?”

           “Yeah, that’s it.”

           “Carol… Carol Johnson?”

           “Jensen.”

           “Gotcha.” Ace shook his head. “God, Paulie, you gotta start making photo albums like Gene. You get better descriptions outta those police sketch artists.”

--

            The rest of the afternoon was placid enough. Paul and Gene lazed around after Ace and Peter left. Gene turned on the T.V. and they watched The Edge of Night (how the hell that soap was still on, Gene didn’t know), Paul flopping next to him with his legs hanging over the couch. There was something comfortable about it. Paul only got up once the show’s credits streamed down the screen, turning it off.

           “You don’t want to watch the news?”

           “No. We’d still have half an hour. Besides, I wanted to show you something. C’mon.”

           Gene followed him out of the living room, down the stairs to the den. He’d been there before, sure, but Paul had never really given him a house tour. KISS’ gold records hung from the wood-paneled walls, along with an assortment of posters and memorabilia from their earlier tours. All stuff Gene had at home himself—if anything, Gene had a lot more of it—but Paul didn’t acknowledge it, heading for three bookshelves packed with records.

           “Back when I was in high school,” he said, “I used to try to buy one album every couple of weeks. I’d have to get the cut-outs.”

           “Yeah, I know.”

           “So once we got big, I decided I’d get every record I ever wanted.” Paul grinned a little ruefully. “But I didn’t really think it through, so this is what I ended up with.”

           “Uh-huh.” Gene tugged out a copy of Alvin and the Chipmunks’ “Witch Doctor.” “I think that goes without saying.”

           “C’mon, I was a kid when that came out.”

           “Do you have ‘Flying Purple People Eater,’ too?”

           “Don’t laugh, I might.” Paul started thumbing through the shelves. Gene almost told him not to go looking for it, but instead of the Sheb Wooley single, Paul took out a copy of Rod Stewart’s latest offering, last year’s A Night on the Town. Gene looked at it quizzically.

            “What’s this for?”

           “Good luck.” Paul slid the record out of its sleeve and handed it to Gene. “Put it on.”

           Gene put it on. The vinyl crackled appreciably. Last year’s hit on that first track. Rod Stewart could pair filthy lyrics with a number-one hit, while KISS was stuck going the clean ballad route just to hit the top ten.

           “‘Tonight’s the Night’?” Oh. That made sense. Well, it made some sense. Gene was getting the impression Paul might not have thought his selection through, as Rod started to gravel-voice his way into getting a virgin into bed. “Hoping for a pretty exciting evening, aren’t you?”

           “Not—Gene, I meant we’d find the girl.” Paul tapped Gene’s shoulder with the album jacket. “It’s positive thinking. Norman Vincent Peale and all that.”

           Gene grinned.

           “Pretty raunchy. I thought you’d pick a cleaner pick-me-up.”

           “Whatever, I like it.” Paul propped the jacket against the record player. His face was faintly flushed. “The whole album’s pretty good.”

           “I know. I have it.” Gene listened to the saxophone’s croon before cutting in again. “You really just wanted me to see your record collection?”

           “No. Not exactly.” Paul shifted. “Look, I know you don’t really go to the discos much.”

           “So? Paul, I don’t mind doing it for you.”

           “Yeah, but… shit, I don’t know. You got bored last night.”

           “I didn’t get bored. I had a pretty good view.”

           Paul rolled his eyes.

           “There’s not a lot to do at 54 besides get wasted and dance. And neither of us is going to get wasted.”

           That was true of any club, and most of why he didn’t go. He could get laid just as easily in his own neighborhood, without the hassle of dressing up and schmoozing.

           “It’s fine. Maybe I’ll bring a book.”

           “Gene.” Paul had his tongue peeking slightly past his teeth. Nervous. “I wanna teach you to dance.”

           “What for?”

           “So you’ll have something to do. That way, we don’t look like creeps waiting around.” The first track was edging towards the halfway point. Paul took his hand. “What do you say?”

           “Don’t you want something a little faster?”

           “No. This is good.” Paul took Gene’s other arm, positioning his hand on his shoulder. “You can dance to anything, if you’ve got rhythm.”

           “You’re leading.”

           “Damn right.” Paul had his other hand on his waist already, was urging him forward with that hand. Gene took an obedient, offbeat step, and Paul sighed but stepped back in time with Gene instead of with the beat. A couple more steps and Paul had them back on track again, although Gene felt about as awkward as he had during senior prom ten years prior. “It’s mirroring, mostly. Mirroring and—getting a feel for your partner, what they can do.”

           “A feel, huh?”

           “Getting a feel, not copping one.” Paul pursed his lips in consideration. “Don’t watch your feet so much. Keep it up here.”

           “When did you start dancing?”

           “I dunno. I always wanted to.” He was starting to get more complicated than the sort of forward-back motion that was all Gene could readily accomplish. Shifting more than his feet around. Had he been doing that from the beginning? Paul’s grip on him was more relaxed than the reverse, that much was definite. “Just one of those stupid things. I used to watch all those variety shows when I was a kid, and think, ‘hey, I could do that.’ Dance, sing… puppeteer…” Paul snorted, and dropped his arm from Gene’s waist. Gene almost let go entirely, but then Paul squeezed his hand, raising it up. Gene gave him a blank look in return, before realizing, several beats too late, that Paul had been trying to get him into a spin.

           “Puppeteer?”

           “Howdy Doody’s a—formative influence—”

           “Uh-huh.” The mildly disappointed expression on Paul’s face made him a little concerned, and he added, “Try that again, I wasn’t ready.”

           Paul lifted his arm again. Gene made the spin, his movements stilted, feeling a bit stupid for all of it until he saw Paul start to grin.

           “Maybe we should try it like this.”

           “Like what?”

          Rod had just about made it with the girl, the moaned-out French at the end of the track something Gene could only guess at. Paul just took him by both hands.

          “A little less formal, right? Hang on.” Paul let go, hurrying back to the record player. Gene watched him take the vinyl off and stuff it back into the sleeve and jacket, before rummaging around the shelves again. He pulled out another record, though this time he didn’t show Gene the jacket before putting it on. Not that it mattered. Gene recognized the harmonies anyway, well before Paul made his way back to where he was standing. Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young’s Deja Vu.

          “Figured we could go way back.” Paul took his hands again as the record played, his steps faster, more energetic. Gene didn’t really think the band had meant for anyone to dance to their stuff. He kept up awkwardly at first, but something about how enthusiastic Paul was, how much he put into every move, how he tried to fit the steps to the songs, buoyed him. His curls would bounce a bit depending on the tempo. It was almost cute to watch. Almost infectious. Gene hesitated before trying to get Paul into a turn himself, getting a gratified look and an eager spin in return. He was starting to get it, a bit, the way just a shift or a squeeze of the hand was enough of a signal of where to turn or where he was headed. Like that sense he’d get, that sense they’d all get, if one of the guys was having an off night and they needed to cover during a concert. It was warm, intuitive.

          Paul was breathing a little heavily by the time they’d gone through the first few tracks, hands sweaty. Gene tried to get him into one more spin as the record buzzed. He caught Paul’s shoulder with his free hand while he was halfway through, his back towards Gene’s. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it. Paul stopped there, turning to look at Gene, questioning.

          “Something wrong?”

          “No. I’m fine.” Gene shifted forward—a bad idea; they’d been closer than he realized, and now he was up against him. The melancholic harmonies of “Country Girl” were starting to swell. Gene pursed his suddenly dry lips, feeling stupid, no, feeling absolutely moronic, as he let go of Paul’s hand. “I—I think we better get ready.”

          Paul’s expression drooped only for a moment, like the hesitant flicker of lights just before a power outage. His hand went to his side.

          “Oh. Oh, yeah. Lemme get the record.” He took a step, Gene’s hold on his shoulder slackening to nothing, Gene’s hand faltering down to his own side, and walked over to retrieve the record, the moment fading away before he even lifted the needle.

--

           A few hours later, Peter and Ace were in a limo, grousing. They’d gotten ready for Studio 54 earlier than they’d meant to from sheer antsiness, and now they were reduced to making the driver get them fast food they didn’t even want to kill time.

          Well, Peter didn’t want it, but he was pretty sure Ace would eat his share for him. He was also sure it wasn’t quite enough of a delaying tactic to keep him and Ace from arriving right around when Paul and Gene did, but Ace reassured him he could keep that from happening. Peter sighed, glancing out the window to make sure the driver wasn’t on his way out of the restaurant yet, before speaking again.

          “What do you think about it?”

           Ace raised his head slightly at the question. He had brought a deck of cards and was shuffling them as they waited. Sometimes he’d lift the cards up into a sloppy arc as he riffled through them. He’d been fairly quiet, no real goofing off, not even any drinking, since they’d doubled back to Peter’s, gotten ready for the evening, and scrounged up the limo. Two nights in a row at 54 might’ve been murder on a normal human being, but in his less-sober moments, Peter could convince himself he’d spent the last four years with Jendell’s most questionable export.

           “What do I think about what, Pete?”

           “What we’re gonna do about Paul.”

           “Nothing to do about Paul. Either he gets back to normal or he doesn’t.”

           “I meant the band.” None of them had really wanted to bring it up. Ace had only barely alluded to it when he’d offered to delay the tour with a honeymoon. “If we don’t find that girl, or Paul doesn’t get back to normal, what’s going to happen to the band?”

           “You know what’s going to happen.” Ace sounded more quietly cynical than he had in a long time. “We all know what’s going to happen.”

           “I’m not kicking Paul out of his own fucking band.”

           “I’m not, either. And Gene’d rather get a tongue reduction than hurt Paul like that.” Ace shifted, kicking his heels up to the glass partition between them and the driver, while he kept toying with the deck in his hands. “We’ll all just have to pack it up. If he doesn’t get fixed, KISS is gone.”

           Pack it up. The thought felt like the gum beneath a desk at school. Peter didn’t like thinking about the options. They could all try solo acts—he felt like he had a better shot than the others, given “Beth”… or join up in some other band, but it felt… dirty. It wasn’t like Paul had gotten on drugs or turned into a completely insufferable asshole or blown out his voice. He’d just had something shitty happen to him that they couldn’t—

           “Do you think Bill could spin it? Let’s say… let’s say we don’t tell him everything.” Peter was trying to think. “Let’s say Paul’s fucked off, but hey, we found a replacement that kinda looks like him. A real pretty girl. We got a whole new market. Chicks don’t ever front rock bands—”

           “Petey, we couldn’t keep it up.” Ace gnawed his lip. “Bill’d still wanna know who this girl was. Even if Paul could fool him, we’d still get blown out of the water the minute people started asking questions. We’d need IDs, a passport…”

           “We could get fakes made.”

           “Then what?” Ace shook his head. “Paul’d be living like that guy in The Fugitive. Worse. Having to pretend he really was some random chick in front of the whole damn world… I don’t wanna shoot you down, man, but we’re sunk.”

          Peter groaned.

          “KISS is sunk and Gene gets a girlfriend. Fucking terrible trade-off.”

           “Poor Geno.” Ace laughed. “He might figure it’s worth it, you think?”

           “Nah. Gene likes money more than he likes getting laid.” Peter swallowed. “You think they’ve fucked yet?”

           “C’mon, Paulie’s a lady,” Ace managed, before bursting into those weird, high giggles again. “He won’t give it up that quick. How long did it take you to warm him up to it?”

           “Not too long.”

           Ace held the deck up. Peter shook his head. Shrugging, Ace started trying to cut the deck with one hand, and flip the halves over with his thumb. He only succeeded in spilling most of the deck onto the floorboard and seats. Peter reached over, obediently helping him gather up the cards and handing them back over. Ace winked, taking the stack.

           “What’s on your mind, anyway, Cat?”

           “Nothing.”

           “Bullshit.” Ace said it lightly. “You’re not really worried about whether Gene’s made it with him or not.”

           “God, no.” The thought was more disturbing than it needed to be. “It’s just that I should’ve figured it out from the start.” Peter let out an irritated breath. “Gene only saw him once and figured it out. It took me three times. Paul had to tell me before I—"

           “Hey, you got him, that’s the important thing.”

           “Yeah, but… he wasn’t good at pretending the first time. He called me Pete. And the second time, he kept trying to tell me—”

           “Pete, c’mon, you weren’t expecting him to look like that—”

           “Makes me think I don’t really know him.”

           Ace looked at him almost sadly. He’d stopped fiddling with the deck of cards, setting them on his thigh.

           “You know him better than you think.”

           “You think so?”

           “Positive.” Ace’s head jerked up suddenly. Peter’s gaze followed his, and he saw the beleaguered limo driver heading out of the restaurant, with two sackfuls of barbeque sandwiches, fries, and a couple of sodas. Ace put an unnecessary finger to his lips as the driver opened their door and handed over the sacks. “Hey, man, thanks. Didja get yourself anything?”

           “I shouldn’t eat on the job.”

           “C’mon, I used to drive cabs, I’d eat in there all the time.” Ace cackled, digging awkwardly in his back pocket. “Get some food if you want. Then come back in here. We’ll play some poker before you take us over.”

           “You’re not worried about the time?”

           “Nah. I got the time if you got the money.” He grinned. “Hey, hey, Petey’ll spot you, right?”

           “I ain’t spotting anyone.”

           “Then the best hand gets… aw, hell, I dunno. You beat us three times in a row and we’ll bring you into the disco, you dig?”

           As the driver sidled into the back of the limo, Peter scooted over to give him room. Five minutes later, barbeque sandwich in one hand, a straight in the other, Peter decided they were going to be late after all.

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 5 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29 Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Gene tries to reason out some deep-seated denial, and Peter defends Paul.

           Normally, Paul could spend hours in clothing stores. Tight jeans, platform boots, designer blouses and ascots. Feathery jackets and animal print coats. He’d dressed as wildly as possible from the time he was twelve or thirteen on, saving up every dime to buy new clothes, always hoping they’d be the ticket to feeling—oh, like they did. Like other people must. Confident and swaggering. Gene had been like that from the very start, even though, when he’d met Gene, Gene had been easily forty pounds overweight and was wearing overalls that only emphasized his gut.

           That had been a pretty rude awakening for Paul. He’d realized it wasn’t in looking the part. Confidence was something inherent. Offstage, he couldn’t ever seem to purchase more than small slivers of it. And he didn’t think he could purchase it now (well, on Gene’s dime), in a mid-tier boutique, self-consciously shoving his way through racks of bras. Gene hadn’t told him to pick one up, but he hadn’t had to, either. He’d known he needed one from the start; it kind of hurt to run up stairs without any support, and the nightclub would be fucking awful without a bra, but he’d just kept putting it off. As if this female body would go away if he refused to acknowledge it, like a groupie left to linger in the Coop until morning.

           Speaking of groupies, he was still wondering about the one who’d cursed him. He could sort of remember her face as Suzie had described her, but it was puzzling. The S&M bit had been relatively light, no whips or toys, and she hadn’t come across like a nut. She’d said he’d had her before. That didn’t mean much, either. Especially in certain areas, he’d end up with some of the same groupies again. Sweet Connie, for one—the only girl Paul knew for a fact had fucked every single member of the band, and half its roadies—and there were plenty others. It was almost a wrestling circuit; the girls all knew each other, even if he didn’t know them.

           But what could he really have done to make that girl that mad? He couldn’t remember promising a chick much of anything in several years. Sometimes he’d get a bit sloppy with it, toss the girl some cab fare as he asked her to leave (she’d think he meant it as a tip, and throw it back at him), but he didn’t get off on humiliating them like some guys did. They came with the room, that was all. Stress relief. God knew he’d heard of plenty of rockstars and movie stars who’d Quaalude the hell out of whatever girl (or guy) they wanted. But he’d never done something like that. Fuck, his chicks were actually sober.

It really didn’t add up. Gene was triple the cad than he was, and he still had his dick. Peter and Ace cheated constantly on their wives, but Lydia and Jeanette hadn’t joined forces and sent a sex-changing demon after them. Whatever. He exhaled, taking four bras of slightly different sizes back to the dressing room and trying on each in turn, wishing he’d let the shopgirl help. The clasps were annoying enough that he ended up having to fasten the bras in the front, squashing his chest in the process, then turn the whole thing around just to put it on. The third bra out of the stack seemed to fit the best, a cream-colored underwire one that wasn’t too padded or too heavy on the lace and flowers. It looked okay reflected in the dressing room mirror, if a little stupid, paired with the boxers he was still stubbornly clinging to.

           After another ten minutes or so, he’d also picked out a few pairs of underwear and a pair of fishnet stockings. Another half an hour and he had a fake leather jacket, graphic tee, cut-off jean shorts, and a pair of boots. He didn’t really dig the ensemble in the mirror. More that he didn’t dig the unhappy girl in the mirror any more than he dug the unhappy guy he usually saw there. But maybe he’d look punk enough for CBGB. Would he need more clothes than that, though? On the chance that she didn’t show, or, worse, didn’t reverse the curse? Paul’s stomach churned at the thought. He got another dress, two blouses, heels, and a pair of jeans, deciding he’d write Gene a check for everything once this was all over.

           By the time he headed to check out, Gene was already waiting for him with his own bag of already-paid-for clothes. Paul tried to get a peek—he didn’t think Gene could go believably punk without intense help—but Gene held his two bags closed, pulling out a credit card to cover Paul’s purchases.

           “Hey, that’s not fair. I could use the laugh, show me what you bought.” Aggravating enough to have Gene watch the clerk ring up the bra and underwear.

           “Later.” Gene looked positively amused. Paul grabbed his own bags of clothes as soon as they were paid for, oblivious to the raised eyebrow the clerk threw Gene’s way for not carrying the bags for him.

           “If you won’t show me, don’t expect me to drive you anywhere for lunch.”

           The clerk perked up.

“Your girl’s driving? She’s got you by the balls.”

           “You have no idea,” Gene said.

--

           They ended up going through the McDonald’s drive-thru for lunch without Gene having to divulge any of his purchases. Paul had dug up enough change from the middle console to pay for it, and he was chatting up a storm about CBGB’s semi-resident bands—Blondie, apparently, was a pretty good act—between handfuls of French fries.

           “It doesn’t hold a ton of people, either, so if the groupie’s there, we’ll know pretty quickly. It’s not wall-to-wall like at Studio 54.” Paul shook his head. “Have you gone over there yet, Gene?”

           “Not yet.” He’d meant to. The disco had just opened when they’d gotten off tour. The big stars had already marked it as their territory, people like Mick and Bianca Jagger, Diana Ross, and Liza Minnelli. The prospect of being in their league was its own intoxicant. “Have you?”

           “Yeah, once. Y’know, I saw Andy Warhol there. He said he wanted to paint me.” Even through the food, Paul sounded pleased. “I kinda blew him off, I think he was just trying to come on to me, but hell, it might be fun.”

           “Getting with Warhol?”

           “Getting painted by Warhol. Jesus, Gene.” He paused. “He’s not my type.”

          “You’re not his type, right now.”

          Paul looked a little stung, but didn’t retort for a second or two.

          “What do you care, anyway?”

           Gene stuffed about a third of the burger in his mouth and shrugged.

          “I don’t.”

          “Remember when he did the Marilyn Monroe screen prints? Everyone in my class was trying to make their own versions, and our teacher…”

          Paul kept trailing off about his art magnet high school. Gene was only half-paying attention. Something strange and almost possessive had curdled in the back of his throat. He took a swig of his cup of Coke, but the feeling persisted. Maybe it was the dissonance. Girls worth talking to didn’t dismiss fucking so casually. Paul wasn’t really a girl, sure—well, he was, but—

          “You’re not listening.”

          “I don’t know anything about art, Paul.”

          “You do. You draw. You used to show me your comics. Everybody knows something about art. Everybody knows what they like about it.” Paul exhaled. “Look, you’ve gotta be getting tired of my place. I’ll take you home, meet you at the club tonight?”

          “You really want to do that?”

          “Yeah, of course I wanna go to the club. I’m not losing my whole life because of one groupie.”

          “You’d be okay getting there by yourself?”

          “I—yeah, I’d be okay.”

          “Just take us back to your place.”

          “I’d be fine, really—”

          “No, take us both back.”

          “What, you think I can’t drive over there by myself?”

          “Maybe I like your company, Paul.”

          Paul reached for his soda cup. The edge of his mouth was starting to twitch up.

          “Yeah? Maybe I like yours.”

--

           By the time Paul pulled into the driveway, Gene was feeling a little sluggish. Two Big Macs, French fries, Coke, and most of Paul’s Sprite sat heavy on his stomach. He figured he’d take a nap on Paul’s couch or in his guest bedroom. Maybe play some records after, if that didn’t tear at Paul too much. Maybe get a quick dinner at a restaurant before heading to that nightclub—he almost thought he could talk Paul into it now.

           Paul seemed to have about the same idea. He kicked off the tissue-stuffed heels and headed to his bedroom, leaving the door open. Gene watched him hang up all his purchases before doubling back to the door.

           “I’m gonna sleep for a bit,” Paul called out. “You can turn the T.V. on if you wanna, I don’t care.”

           Gene nodded, and Paul shut the door, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He shucked off his own shoes and stretched out on the orange velour couch in the living room, feeling weirdly nostalgic. The last time he’d really been at Paul’s place for more than an afternoon, Paul’s place had been his parents’ place. They’d be at the kitchen table, talking about records, bumming their way through Beatles songs on their acoustic guitars, while Paul’s baby niece squalled in the background. He’d never admit it, but he envied the noise in that apartment. The coiled-up tension Paul assured him lay just beneath the surface was something he never saw.

           Paul had rarely gotten past the door of Gene’s house when his mother was around. His mother thought Paul was the Lampwick to his Pinocchio, eagerly leading Gene into a world of sin he’d already partaken in and a world of drugs he’d never touched. Paul’s ego had been sufficiently bruised by the assumption that he never tried to convince her otherwise. But Gene was sort of wondering now. If Paul had been a chick instead of a guy when they met, some mousey, bitchy friend-of-a-friend that played a little guitar and wanted to start a band, would his mother have liked him any better? Would Paul being a Jewish girl, if nothing else, have been enough to save him, her, whatever? Probably not.

           Would he have gone after Paul then?

           Probably.

           Anyway, it didn’t matter. He didn’t plan on going after Paul now. They’d get this reversed soon enough, and once the tour started back again, he’d be up to his neck in Playboy Playmates and groupies, all way easier on the eyes and the wallet and the brain than a girl with a gap tooth and a terminal case of nerves. Yeah. Yeah.

           He watched the cuckoo clock on the wall for a while, the one that Paul had gotten during their last Europe tour, waiting for the bird to pop out from the little hatch. But it, like everything else, seemed to be taking its time. Gene sighed, getting up from the couch and heading for the T.V.—what was on this time of day, anyway? Gunsmoke reruns? The only thing that stopped him from finding out was a knock on the door.

           He opened it without thinking, figuring it was the mailman delivering another of Paul’s occult books. Instead, he was met with Peter, wearing his version of casual—jeans, a vest, a pinstripe shirt, and a handful of necklaces—and a bewildered look.

           “You’re still over here?”

           “How’d you know I was over here?”

           “Ace told me. Where’s Paul?”

           Shit.

           “He’s not in right now.”

           Peter looked him up and down suspiciously.

           “Then are you gonna let me in?”

           Despite himself, Gene’s glance went to the bedroom door almost on automatic. If he could get rid of Peter fast enough, Paul wouldn’t wake up.

           “C’mon,” he said finally. Peter stalked in without hesitation. Gene had half-expected him to take a seat, but he didn’t, looming in the living room like he was certain he was being let out of the loop, without being told.

           “Look, maybe Ace can write off all sorts of shit, but I can’t.”

           “What do you mean?”

           “He won’t see anybody, he won’t talk to anybody. He gets into fucking voodoo. He has you call up Ace for his psychic. Says you’ll make sure Paul calls me back and he doesn’t. But everything’s cool, everything’s great—”

           “Pete—”

           “Something’s the matter. Paul ain’t that kind of a nut! Now, either he lost his mind or you’re pulling one on him, but either way, something’s screwed-up here. I’m not leaving until I talk to him.”

           “You’ll be waiting awhile.”

           “I’ve got time.”

           “Pete, really, he’s gonna be out until pretty late, don’t you think—”

           “No, I don’t. I’m staying. You want me out, call the fucking cops. Get a real nice headline going—"

           The bedroom door creaked open. Peter turned around immediately, Gene following suit. Paul was standing in the doorway, still in that floral dress from earlier that afternoon. Gene bit his lip.

           “It’s you again!” Paul seemed to cave in on himself with every word out of Peter’s mouth, stepping back. “You—I see how this is!”

           “Peter,” Gene started again, “Peter, listen, it isn’t—”

           “You fucking asshole!” Peter grabbed Gene’s arms, oblivious to or maybe just not caring about the weight and height Gene had on him. “How the fuck could you do that to him?!”

           “You’ve got it wrong, I’m not—listen, Pete, I—”

           “You’re fucking his girlfriend! Your best friend! Paulie’s fucking losing it and what do you do, you move in on his girl! Move in on his house! You motherfucking pig!” Pete advanced, or tried to. Gene twisted away his grip, grasping his wrists. Pete yanked himself free easily, stalking forward, forcing Gene back, closer and closer to the wall.

           “Pete, calm down.”

           “I won’t! This ain’t stupid band shit, Gene! This ain’t fucking solos! You got no right to do this!”

           “Stop it.” It was Paul. Gene stared, stunned, as Paul stepped out of the doorway and into the living room, face pale. Peter was watching, too, looking disgusted. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”

           “He wouldn’t?” Peter started to laugh. “Baby, he’s done it to every chick that got within three feet of him.”

           “Pete, please.” Paul was biting his lip, breaths hard. “Pete, I’ve gotta tell you, listen—”

           “Don’t,” Gene cut in, but Paul didn’t listen. God only knew why. Gene could tell Paul was scared as hell, even as he stepped between them, taking Peter’s arms. Even Peter had about an inch on him now. Surprisingly, he didn’t pull back. “Don’t do it, you don’t need to.”

           “I’ve got to. Peter, I—” He let go of one of Peter’s arms, pulling down the right shoulder of his dress to expose his tattoo. “I’m... damn it, Peter, you know who I am.”

           Peter’s face contorted.

           “What the hell are you doing? What’s that supposed to prove?”

           “You and me, w-we went on vacation together last year. To Hawaii.”

           “Bullshit, I went with Lydia! I’ve never gone anywhere with you in my life!”

           Paul was staring at Peter like he’d just been slapped, but he kept his grip on Peter’s arm like a lifeline. Gene didn’t know how to help him. Part of him wanted to just go straight between the two of them and scream at Peter to get out of there, never mind the fallout on both sides after. But he didn’t. Instead he just watched as Peter tossed away Paul’s hold like it was nothing at all, shoving him back, hard enough Paul stumbled backwards, hitting his leg on the coffee table. Peter turned to Gene.

           “You think you can do anybody any fucking way, don’t you? Fuck Paul, right? Fuck him and his crazy broad. That’s the way you are. Loyalty don’t even matter to you.”

           “Peter—”

           “Forget it. I’m out of here.”  Peter stalked to the door, shouting as he yanked it open. “Don’t think I won’t tell him what you’ve done! I don’t give a shit if it splits us up!”