#of he-man's epic lightening show

[stagefoureddiediaz]

ugh this is horrible news tommy is still around, hope to god he's gone in the finale. v

Maybe in your world Nonnie, but not in mine and I'm not entirely sure why you felt the need to come and complain about it on my blog, but here we are!

It makes perfect Narrative sense for Tommy to still be around in the back end of the season, and even possibly into the start of season 8. The show is telling a story of Bucks bisexuality, so why woould they get rid of Tommy so quickly? To do so would do a disservice to that story - a massive disservice. I'm guessing you're hating on this relationship becasue you see it getting in the way of Buddie, rather than viewing it as a vital step on the route to Buddie.

Lets put it into simple terms - Buck figures out he's bi and then begins to explore that newly discovered aspect of himself. The show has also taken the time to move Buck from someone who didn't really do relationships (of the long term variety), into someone who is looking for love and looking for forever. But in amongst all of that, he hasn't really had a healthy long term relationship, the closest he had to that was with Ali and that one didn't last especially long and she wasn't around for most of it

Buck isn't ready for an endgame queer relationship right now - he is still to immature from a relationship perspective - especially a queer relationship perspective. If Eddie was available and he and Buck got together - as they are as characters right now, they wouldn't last - they're not in a position to do so successfully. And this isn't me suggesting that they need to have figured everything out before they get together - to have fully healed etc, because thats neither realistic or something I would want to see - what it means is that they both need to get to a point where they are in a healthy enough place to put in the work together, understand each others flaws, and their own flaws and proactively work towards overcoming those things together and as of right now, neither of them are - they are getting their and moving rapidly in the right direction, but Buck needs to learn a bit more, and in many ways learn how to be with a man, before he will be ready to start anything with Eddie.

The growth we're getting to watch Buck go through right now - in the aftermath of the lightening strike, his reckoning with his mortality etc and the fact he's now off the hamster wheel and moving forward - in a healthy and faster way than we've ever seen from him, speaks volumes.

Tommy is also a far better developed love interest than any other love interest we've seen Buck (or indeed Eddie) with (Abby excepted but she was a main, so had her own purpose on the show)- I'm sure I'm not alone in feeling like I know Tommy more after 3 episodes plus what we got from the begins episodes he was in, than I managed to ascertain about Taylor or Ana or Nataila etc!

Not to mention, him figuring out he's in Love with Eddie as part of this process is going to be fun to watch. The show has made no bones about re-enforcing at every. Single. Opportunity how close, how entwined and how important Buck and Eddie are to one another - the show has quite literally been prioritising that over anything else Buck and Eddie related - Buck was there front and centre - placed very much on an equal footing with Shannon and even Eddie himself in 7x01, and then Eddie was the centre of Bucks bi arc in 7x04 and in his coming out in 7x05. They are literally moving chess pieces into place to tell an amazing story of queer love in later life and creating an epic slow burn for the ages.

And finally, Eddie is, as far as we know at this point in time, still in a relationship with Marisol - why shouldn't Buck get to explore who he is and what he want's within a relationship rather than sitting pining on the sidelines - that isn't healthy in any way shape or form. Eddie still has stuff to figure out about himself.

Even Tim and Oliver have stated in interviews that this is about a happy and joyful queer experience of figuring out bisexuality and therefore within that is giving the narrative a romcom vibe. But they have also stated that Tommy isn't going to be around for that long - that he is very much a narrative device.

It is worth pointing out that timelines on various aspects of the narrative may have been shifted because of the season 8 renewal - but that is only going to help tell the story because now it doesn't have to be rushed. I'm still fully expecting some form of feeling realisation from one of them by the end of the season (my money is on Buck), setting up for season 8 and Buddie going canon either 8a finale or early into 8b.

You have every right to dislike Tommy if thats you jam - have at it, but don't come to my blog and expect me to agree with you. I'm not a multi shipper by any means - I'm a one ship kind of gal and I will be a Buddie shipper until the end of time, but within that, I am here for amazing storytelling and amazing queer storytelling - the like of which I've not had the privilege to watch on my screen before - especially one that hits so close to home. Its a really important story to tell and I'd rather it not be rushed.

And if you had to pick - I'm pretty sure you'd rather have Tommy around for a bit longer that Marisol!!!!

[ghostofmyth]

Ermmmmm, chat I think I just unlocked some hidden meanings in Epic: the musical's song 'No Longer You"? And It reveals what already happened in the Thunder saga and what's going to happen in future saga's like 'Vengeance' and 'Ithaca'-

idk if it was intentional or not, but Mr.Jalapeño had REALLY outdone himself on this one 👍

Ok so there's a lot so let me break it down:

I was trying to figure out the chorus at the end of 'No Longer You' when I realized some things that are happening in the song.

The prophet is literally telling us what is going to happen (Thunder + Vengeance + Ithaca saga's), the chorus in the background at the end is giving us hints of when these events will happen in future songs, and the prophet is directly telling Odysseus that he will make it home and what is going to happen when he gets home.

1) Now most of the prophet's lines are directly referencing to the Thunder saga, that much is very obvious. Let me go through each one to show you.

"I see a song of past romance"

This line is referencing to the siren songs 'Suffering' and (maybe?) 'Different Beast', because the siren pretending to be Penelope is trying to lure Odysseus (and his men) into the water by singing, but since Odysseus and the crew had wax in their ears they were able to resiste the song and thus Odysseus commands her and the rest of the sirens to be killed right after he gets his needed information.

"I see the sacrifice of man"

This line is referencing to the third song 'Scylla', where Odysseus tells Eurylochus to light up six torches after he tells Odysseus that he was the one who had opened the bag, the fact that the 'man' is singular and not plural speaks volumes, that means that Eurylochus was going to be the sacrifice to Scylla but instead he passed around the torches, sacrificing six other men to Scylla unintentionally. Odysseus was, either way, ready to sacrifice his crew.

"I see portrayals of betrayal and a brothers final stand"

This line is referencing to the first half of 'Mutiny' and here's why. Eurylochus feels so betrayed by Odysseus because he gave up six of their men to Scylla that he decides to fight him to the death, Odysseus loses and almost dies while fighting Eurylochus (the two called each other brothers in multiple past songs, including this one), that is when the crew fully sides with Eurylochus, betraying their original captain for another, if not worse, captain. Also to mention it was Eurylochus that betrayed Odysseus first because he was the one that opened the bag that set them off course from Ithaca and right towards Poseidon.

"I see you on the brink of death"

This line is referencing to the second half of 'Mutiny', Odysseus almost dies but since he was healed by Eurylochus he lives. That's when things start to go down hill.

"I see you draw your final breath"

Now this line would be referencing to the very end of 'Thunder Bringer', where (as seen in a trailer to the Thunder saga) Odysseus is drowning after Zeus strikes a lightening bolt at the ship, thus killing everyone except for him.

"I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it's no longer you."

Now the very last line has nothing to do with the Thunder saga. It has more connection with the 'Vengeance' and 'Ithaca' sagas (not the Wisdom saga though, that one is Athena trying to convince the other god's to free his dumb self from Calypso's island). All that we know from this line is that he is alive, he is going home, and that he is the monster rawr rawr rawr. (Also doesn't Scylla say that she and him were alike? Monster era fr 🦖)

2) Now to the chorus part, I can't really hear very well so I can't tell what have of it is saying after lighting bolt, but I do have a good theory on what it could be telling us.

At the very end, while the prophet is retelling his prophecy thing, we hear the chorus, which is telling us what events are going to happen in songs.

"I see you on the brink of death" is connected to the 'Siren song' and 'Scylla throat' part. In the first three songs of the Thunder saga, Odysseus is facing murderous monsters like sirens and Scylla who are actively trying to kill him and his crew. The monsters could be shown as the brink of death because of how dangerous both are.

"I see you draw your final breath" has the 'Mutiny' and 'Lightning Bolt' part of the chorus, the last two songs in the Thunder saga happen to have Odysseus draw his final breath twice, first in "Mutiny" while fighting with Eurylochus and second while he is drowning and passes out at the end of "Thunder Bringer" (as seen in the trailer).

It seems the lyrics are what is going to happen to Odysseus and the chorus is what songs its going to happen in. That's why we hear more than one word during the last lines "I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it's no longer you". It's multiple song names that are going show the aftermath of Thunder saga through the not yet released saga's.

3) Now the very last one is a doozy so bare with me here-

In the beginning/middle of "No Longer You', after the prophet tell's Odysseus his future, Odysseus says,

"This can't be, we suffered and sailed through the toughest of hell's now you tell us our efforts for nothing?!"

You can tell in these lines that Odysseus is at the point of giving up, he thinks he might never make it home after hearing the prophets words. But the prophet continues.

"I see your palace covered in red, faces of men who have long believed your dead"

This line could be a reference to either the Vengeance saga or Ithaca saga, but what is happening is that the all the suitors are killed, hence the covered in red part.

"I see your wife with a man who is hunting, a man with a trail of bodies."

Again, could be referencing to either the Vengeance or Ithaca saga. But the prophet is saying that Penelope is with the man who hunted down and killed all the suitors, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake, and that they are reunited/are together.

Oh course, Odysseus doesn't understand what he is talking about so he asks "WHO", who is with Penelope? But the prophet DOES tell him who the mysterious man with blood on his hands is, who the man that Penelope is with. Multiple times in fact.

When the prophet repeats himself he is emphasizing his words. "I see you" is sung more stronger than the last time and at the end "I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it's no longer you" the last word is sung more slower. The prophet is telling Odysseus that it's him "You".

Basically to sum it up, when Odysseus says "our efforts for nothing", he thinks that "om-gods this was worthless I'm never going to make it home". The prophet is like "Uh what, you do make it home it says right here?" Then Odysseus is like, "WHO IS THAT MAN WITH MY WIFE? I'LL KILL HIM!" Then the prophet is like, "DUDE CHILL OUT ITS YOU???"

The prophet is telling him that he will in fact get home, and tells him what's going to happen when he gets home.

Ta-da, that's what I figured out! Either that or I'm just going insane! (My thought process on this whole thing has been going on since 1am, it is currently 5:30am)

Now that I have shared my thoughts with the world, I shall now go finally sleep, night!

[nevertheless-moving]

For au 8: what extremely awkward joke about said severed leg are they in the middle of (too tired to move, out of Stormlight, have moved on to camadere stage of the fight) when the bridge comes for them?

Stormlight AU Number 8: Kaladin slightly further along in powers during initial szeth fight. Could happen due to other au concepts. Epic windrunner battle across camp, rooftops, clouds, onto shattered plains. Szeth and Kaladin end up running out of stormlight, stranded on the plains together. Sanderson incredible battle of Champions gradually fading to exhausted delirious slap fight. eventually they both have to get rescued. (of course the bridgemen would search for him after the battle). Comedic scenes with Kaladin’s chopped off leg.

Hello! Thank you for asking! You know, to be completely honest, it actually didn't occur to me that Kaladin might manage to use his incredibly potent Power Of Friendshipᵀᴹ to get all the way to camaraderie that early on. I was mostly imagining Szeth dissociating wildly at one edge of the plateau while Kaladin clutches a dagger half awake on the other side. Syl has to keep chasing Szeth away. Occasionally they might shuffle around and yell extremely hinged things at each other.

Kaladin manages to get a very small fire going that night, hoping that one of the sentries might see it. They don't. but fortunately, all the bridge crews are out looking for him, and Renarin decides to tag along with bridge four for some reason, insisting that he had a feeling they would be found that direction, because of, um. math. second sons are allowed to math, alright?

My inital reaction to this ask was

to gently shoot down the idea of them having a funny conversation as one that I couldn't personally make work. They kind of need a third person to lighten the mood, otherwise their default common language right now is dead serious warrior guy. HOWEVER you raise an excellent comedic concept and that is 75% of my motivation for writing so perhaps...

let's say Kaladin and Szeth did manage to have a whole conversation at this point, again this is right after they met and promptly tried to fight to the death in a brilliant cataclysmic battle the likes of which hadn't been seen in millennia.

Kaladin was still hiding his powers from the warcamps (though, he realizes with tired dread, considering how many walls they slammed eachother through, that swordcat is probably out of the bag). He just figured out wall walking (and subsequently flying) a few days ago, motivated by a security briefing on the latest Assassin in White attack in Azir. He wasn't expecting to have to use his powers this soon, this publicly, but when the Assassin showed up...what else was he supposed to do?

Thank Taln that Teft had started double checking if he was carrying extra spheres after learning his captain might be fighting an evil radiant. Thank Syl that enough stormlight let him heal from shardblade injuries. Unfortunate that the Assassin had apparently trained to double strike at someone with an ability as absurd as that. Fortunate that he didn't really need most of his left leg while fighting in the air, considering his body and mind agreed he couldn't spare the stormlight to heal it entirely.

Probably wasn't much talking at all during the battle, on Kaladin's end at least — outmatched in practice and weaponry, his only hope during the new most terrifying fight of his life was letting the Assassin burn through his stormlight first. Let him recklessly scream while Kaladin held his breath and tried to push the man away from new sources of light.

But once they were both grounded... He probably wouldn't do the whole 'yes all the radiants are back' bluff. Why bother? It was just him, as far as he knew, and he didn't understand why. Maybe the Assassin had answers? Szeth — his name was Szeth, come to think of it, how was the man's name a mystery up to this point, he screamed it often enough — though usually he killed the people who would have...ok that...probably explained it.

Anyway if Kaladin managed to coherently get through to Szeth that yes I'm a radiant, or close enough anyway, what does truthless mean, no I guess this means you were never really truthless, and somehow managed to keep the man from jumping into a chasm, I think this would end with Szeth swearing his undying fealty to Kaladin because that's kind of his only trick, and Kaladin has that affect on people. So.

Szeth: It will grow back, my lord. Kaladin: Please — Can you not call me that? Szeth: Your leg will grow back, your brilliance. Kaladin: How about Kaladin? Can you call me Kaladin. And how do you know that, for sure? Szeth: The blades are used in my village for healing such things, and your natural powers are derived from the same source. As an honorblade holder, I was required to train to withstand and keep fighting through such injuries, Brightlord Kaladin. Kaladin: That's horrifying. And Almighty above, definitely DO NOT call me brightlord. What about Captain? I can live with captain. Just — anything but Brightlord, alright? Szeth: Yes, My Lord Captain. Kaladin: I... if you're up for it, please go see if you can find any more rockbuds for water, alright? Szeth: Yes, My Lord Captain. Kaladin: Kaladin: Kelek's breath, the guys are never going to let this one go.

And they don't.

the original comedic scene i was imagining happens after they rescued Kaladin from the plateaus and bring him enough stormlight (no one was allowed to bring spheres on the manhunt) for him to regrow his leg. there are variations. i'll make a separate post.

[riley-macnally]

@emiri-tezel

"I think I've been well and truly snubbed," he scoffs, looking towards Buffy who had chosen to cuddle up next to Emiri. "The only time she's looked at me tonight is when I rustled her treat packet. Traitor." Narrowing his eyes, he soon breaks into a chuckle, finishing off his drink and settling the bottle aside. "You know we've talked through the whole movie?" Grinning, he looks over at the rolling credits of spiderman and back to Emiri. "Here's a thought though, if you could be any of the Avengers, who would ya wanna be? I gotta say I think I'd say Iron Man." For a lot of reasons, he supposed, but mostly because the suit was epic.

"Thanks for staying, by the way. I needed this." If he was honest, the week had been weighing on him, and having her here seemed to lighten that load. "It's pretty late, I don't think Henry's showing up to whisk you off in the moonlight, do you wanna stay the night? I'll get you something to sleep in?" Riley shrugged, no impure intent behind his suggestion, he just didn't really want her having to catch a creepy 1am uber. "We can replay the movie if you're up for another round," of drinks, that was. "I'm Irish so you should already know my vote."

[novumtimes]

Whoopi Goldberg Comes To Prince Williams Defense Over Eras Tour Dance Moves

“My goodness, it’s the guy’s birthday. Lighten up!” Goldberg said on ‘The View’ Monday. “Let him do what he does.” Whoopi Goldberg isn’t here for any Prince William slander. The View co-host had a message for those making fun of Prince William after a clip of the royal’s dance moves at Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour went viral over the weekend. “My goodness, it’s the guy’s birthday. Lighten up!” Goldberg told viewers Monday. “It’s the guy’s birthday, let him do what he does.” William, who turned 42 Friday attended Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour at London’s Wembley Stadium that evening with son, Prince George, 10, and daughter, Princess Charlotte, 9, in tow. While at the show, William was spotted showing off his dance moves as he moved and grooved to Swift’s “Shake It Off” from his box seats. The clip of William dancing not only went viral, it got quite the reaction online, with many turning William into a meme. I am sorry but prince william dancing to shake it off has me wheeeeeezing pic.twitter.com/hDyLxtJIdt — nich⸆⸉ (@sohighschooll) June 22, 2024 @sohighschooll But Goldberg wasn’t the only one on The View to come to his defense, with Ana Navarro taking a moment to point out the difficult year the royal family has been having amid both Princess Kate and King Charles’ cancer diagnoses. “These kids have gone through so much,” Navarro said. “Their mother’s dealing with cancer, their grandfather’s dealing with cancer.” Sunny Hostin echoed much of the same, adding, “That was pure, unadulterated joy for a man whose wife is suffering from cancer. Can’t we enjoy that for him? Come on.” Getty Hugh Grant Weighs in on Taylor Swift’s ‘Gigantic Boyfriend’ as He Brings Family to Eras Tour View Story Sara Haines, meanwhile, commended William for his freedom of expression, even if his dancing skills might not have been the most spot on. “I’m a big believer in ‘dance like no one’s watching,'” Haines said. “That’s the time, even if you have to close your eyes when you’re dancing. There are a lot of times when I wouldn’t want anyone to see me dance. Everyone is watching him.” Alyssa Farah Griffin was similarly taken by William’s dance moves, quipping, “Go off, future king.” Waiting for your permission to load the Instagram Media. In addition to shaking it off during the show, William and his children got the chance to meet Swift and even snap a photo with her backstage. Swift shared her own royal selfie, which included boyfriend, Travis Kelce, as she wished William a happy birthday, writing, “Happy Bday M8! London shows are off to a splendid start.” Waiting for your permission to load the Instagram Media. Swift’s London run has proved to be pretty epic for many reasons, with star sightings lighting up the crowd as she completes eight U.K. shows. “The Eras Tour is such a moment,” she added. “This had everything. You had Travis Kelce in a top hat on stage. You had Prince William dancing. Hugh Grant admitting to doing shots with Travis Kelce afterward and saying he’s a Swiftie.” Eagle-eyed fans will be keeping their phones on zoom to try and capture any more celebrity sightings as Swift continues her Wembley shows before picking up the show and moving to Dublin on June 28 before heading to Amsterdam to kick off July. Source link via The Novum Times

[alj4890]

All Through The Night

A Choices: The Royal Romance Dark AU fanfiction. 

A/N Other than my few Bloodbound shorts, I’ve never written anything with supernatural overtones before. After receiving requests to see Liam and Riley’s story if he was a vampire, this storyline was born. Since it is set in one of my favorite books from Pixelberry, I had to include as many of the main and supporting characters as I could. The following chapters will explain more where they and what our main characters are. Not going to lie, I am very anxious to step out of my comfort zone for this, but I’m also super excited to see how it goes. Along with The Royal Romance, I will be referencing and altering both The Crown and The Flame and The Royal Masquerade.

@gkittylove99​​ @krsnlove​ @kingliam2019​ @texaskitten30​ @yourmajesty09​ @mom2000aggie​ @ofpixelsandscribbles​ @twinkleallnight​ @lodberg​ @twinkleallnight​ @amandablink​ @neotericthemis​  @mm2305​ @sfb123​ @iufilms​​ ​ ​

Masterlist

Prologue

Once upon a time...

"Father!" Zenobia rushed down the stairwell. "Kenna is at the gates!"

King Luthor's frown deepened as he studied the places his troops had been destroyed. His hope to unite the five kingdoms and wipe off the abomination was for naught.

Kenna would not stop until he and his surviving offspring's heads were on pikes.

...until their blood filled the crystal goblets of the Dark Queen.

"What do we do?" His son, Diavolos, asked.

Luthor knew it was only himself Kenna wanted. After he had killed her mother, hoping to stop the monsters once and for all, Kenna would have her revenge.

If only he had known that she was a vampire...just like her mother.

"Listen carefully." His voice trembled at this possibly being the last time he was able to speak to his son and daughter. "A Nevarkis must always be ready to fight the creatures that prey on the weak and vulnerable."

"But..." Zenobia sniffed. "How? How can we possibly kill the unkillable?"

"She can be killed just like her mother before her." Luthor snapped. "Sunlight. A dagger to the heart. Cutting the head off." His features hardened with resolve. "Know that those are our true allies. Continue your training with daggers. Never stop being vigilant. Educate your children. And remember: where there's one vampire, many more lie in wait in the shadows."

Diavolos stepped forward and gripped his father's shoulder. "We will fight for you."

"No." Luthor corrected. "Fight for our people. The innocent. Fight for a chance to live without fear of monsters."

He cleared his throat. "If I should die--"

"Don't say that!" Zenobia screeched. "We'll be--"

"Kenna is coming for me." Luthor interrupted. "I know I must face the consequences of my actions."

"But--" Divalos lowered his head. "What are we to do?"

"Kill her." Luthor ordered. "Let your emotion be your strength." He took their hands. "And remember that a vampire is nature's evil incarnate. They will do whatever they want and kill anyone who they think is in their way." His voice turned to pleading. "Kill Kenna before she has a chance to kill you."

Zenobia nodded in a jerky manner. Diavolos swallowed with tears in his eyes.

"Good. Now prepare yourselves." Luthor pulled his sword from its sheath. "The devil herself is here."

*****************

Two years later...

Kenna cuddled her infant son, humming a lullaby.

Dom came in, a soft smile gracing his lips at the sight of his family.

"How are we this evening?" He asked, placing a kiss first on her lips then one on his son's forehead.

"A little fussy." Kenna explained. "But otherwise perfect."

"Good." Dom stretched then went to stoke the fire. "I will be going out later tonight."

Kenna's head jerked up. "Why? Are there more rumors?"

He nodded, a determined frown formed on his lips. "The Nevarkis brats refuse to let us live in peace." He moved to stand before the window that looked out toward the kingdom he had once lived in.

High in the mountains, the couple and those like them had found sanctuary. They built a kingdom, one of darkness and shadow that allowed them to live freely. He and Kenna were crowned the rulers, chosen by their people...those that were cursed as monsters.

"Si and I will be standing guard." He explained. "I will not risk you or our child."

"Dom..." Kenna pulled him close, capturing his lips in a long tender kiss. "This must end. I was foolish to let my need for revenge take over." Tears sparkled in her eyes. "Luthor might have left us alone if I had given him a chance."

Dom's face contorted into furious hatred. "A Nevarkis can never be trusted!" He gripped her waist, hands heating as he lost his temper. "He would have plunged a dagger into your heart the first chance he had."

"Dom." She said softly when he singed her clothes.

He wrenched his hands from her with a grimace. "I didn't burn you, did I?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine." She tried to lighten the mood. "Just a little overheated."

He took deep breaths to get himself under control. "Stay here where it is safe." His eyes searched hers. "Have you fed recently?"

"No, but I should be fine until you return." Kenna lifted a bottle with blood for their son. "I can call on one of the servants to help me if I need to."

"Promise me you won't go outside." He pleaded.

"Only if you promise to come back to me." She responded.

His lips quirked in that cocky smile she has always adored.

"Always, my queen." He kissed her once more, then slipped out the door to search out their enemies.

******************

Present Day New York...

"Cordonia...land of both beauty and mystery." Riley wrinkled her nose. "Boring."

"No, it isn't." Hana argued. "I think that is the perfect beginning."

"Look at the comments from our last video." Riley swiveled her laptop so her friend could see. "People love our walkthroughs and all but hate my narration."

"Well..." Hana's brow furrowed. "Maybe we should try to add more to it than just narration." She pulled out some sketches. "We could add some animation of the history before showing our footage of the country."

"That might work." Riley mumbled, tapping her pen against her notebook.

The two set to work planning their next project.

After years of trying, they had finally achieved their dream of traveling for a living. The two college friends had taken every class they could on how to make their hopes into a reality. With Riley's love of history and business and Hana's talent with art and fashion, the pair had created a successful travel channel that showcased rarely visited countries and cities around the world.

Hana took care of all the shopping and dining found at their chosen destinations. Her "day trips" were hailed as must see for anyone planning a vacation. Riley took over for what could be found at night. Myths and legends blended in with what could be discovered once the sun set. A place's nightlife was thoroughly researched and reached a wide variety of their audience, causing many to plan a vacation just on her recommendations alone.

"Did your mom suggest where we should go first?" Riley asked, after skimming the same few articles about the elusive country.

"Not really." Hana hedged.

Riley glanced up. "Is she giving you a hard time again?"

"Yes." Hana slumped in her chair. "She told me to call when I was done playing tour guide."

"Geez." Riley grumbled. "Does she not realize that we have created a legit business?"

"Ladies shouldn't be involved in anything that does not pertain to their husband and family." Hana quoted. "I was supposed to have my debut to Cordonian society last year." Angry tears filled her eyes. "She still hasn't forgiven me for missing out on the Masquerade Ball."

Riley wrapped her in a comforting hug. "I'm sorry."

Hana patted her back. "Don't be. I finally feel like I can accomplish anything."

"That's because you can." Riley sat back with a grin. "Especially with planning out what we should focus on first."

Hana giggled as she went to search out some of her old books she had inherited from her grandparents. "These might help you with your part."

Riley's eyebrows lifted over the titles. "The Crown, the Flame, and The Night Queen."

"That is the earliest recorded story of vampires and monsters in Cordonia." Hana explained. "Queen Kenna Rhys and King Luthor Nevarkis both fought over uniting the kingdoms that make up Cordonia." She shook her head in disbelief. "There is a legend that Queen Kenna was a vampire that married a man who could transform into a dragon."

"For real?" Riley eagerly opened the book. "What happened?"

"Luthor died." Hana reached for another history book. "Some say it was a sword fight while others say she ripped his throat out with her fangs."

"Whoa. Either way, she sounds pretty epic."

"His son got revenge though." Hana flipped to another chapter. "He sneaked in one day and supposedly dragged Kenna into the sunlight. Before her husband could save her, she burned to ash."

"Brutal." Riley shivered. "What did the dragon do?"

Hana shrugged. "Supposedly he left with their child to protect him." She pointed at some drawings rendered from the Dark Ages. "Kenna's son came back to extract revenge. He eliminated one entire side of the Nevarkis family tree."

"And let me guess," Riley picked up another book. "The remaining Nevarkis's struck back?"

"It's supposedly been a feud for centuries between the Nevarkis and the Rhys' families." Hana pulled up an image on her phone. "Though one is currently ruling Cordonia."

Riley studied the image. "Queen Olivia Nevarkis. Looks like the Rhys lost the throne."

Hana shrugged. "There's a myth that they still rule Cordonia from the shadows."

"Mythical royal vampires, huh?" Riley laughed at the thought. "I hope I bump into one just so I can figure out who's really in charge."

Hana giggled at the thought. "You would be the only person to ask a logical, government question instead of the usual, whoa you're a real live vampire!"

Riley threw a pillow at her. "Hey! I can be calm and collected when faced with the unknown."

Hana threw the pillow back. "Tell that to the supposed haunted house we visited on our last trip." She broke out into laughter with Riley's defense that squeaking doors were the true villains. "On that note, I'm going to start packing. Our flight leaves first thing in the morning."

"I'll be ready." Riley promised.

Once alone, she flipped to a more current timeline of the supposed Dark Kingdom.

King Constantine Rhys the Third rules over what is his rightful kingdom. Rumors swirl that he is simply biding his time until he can eliminate the usurper, Queen Olivia Nevarkis, First of Her Name. The people know that one day, a Rhys will sit upon the throne, uniting the Dark Kingdom and Cordonia once and for all.

****************

Cordonia's Royal Palace, 2 a.m.

"Heeeerah! Olivia threw her daggers as hard as she could while doing a roundhouse kick.

The blades struck into the chest, head, and groin of the makeshift dummy.

She brushed the few strands of red hair that had escaped her hair clip out of her eyes. With a great deal of scrutiny, she studied her dagger placement.

"The one to the head needs to go deeper."

She spun around with a start at that all too familiar voice.

"You're late." She folded her arms and tapped her foot.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. Had to stop off for a quick bite."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "That's not funny."

"Not that kind of bite." He teased, holding up a styrofoam box.

"Oh." She blinked in surprise. "I forget that you enjoy normal food too."

He chuckled at that. "There are certain foods that I don't think any man could ever give up."

Olivia decided to ignore that as she wiped the sweat from her face and neck. "Now that you're here, let's get the formalities over with."

"Very well." Liam gestured toward her. "You may go first."

She sat down on a bench lining one side of the palace gym. She motioned for him to join her.

"Not you!" She hissed when she saw his all too familiar guard.

Drake Walker bristled at her tone. His brown eyes clashed with her green.

"Give us a moment, please." Liam asked him.

"Don't let your guard down." Drake warned. "Remember, she's a Nevarkis."

Olivia tensed. "Perhaps you should remember what happened the last time you said something like that."

She quirked one eyebrow at the man and felt a sense of glee when he winced in memory.

His hand automatically drifted to his side where one of her daggers had once struck true.

With a quick bow to Liam, Drake stepped back out into the hallway.

Liam shook his head. "Are you two ever going to get along?"

"Stop talking stupid." Olivia snapped. "Now then, as you know...I must have my revenge."

"I know." Liam folded his arms and leaned casually against a column.

She eyed him for any sign of hatred.

It drove her crazy how unvampiric he could be.

He seemed almost human.

He seemed...kind.

A vampire is nature's evil incarnate. You can never trust a Rhys.

Those words had been drummed into her skull by her parents and then her aunt after their deaths by Constantine's hand.

And yet...Liam had done the unthinkable.

He had actually been a friend to Olivia.

*************

The night after her parents' funeral, five year old Olivia had been sitting alone before the fireplace, weeping over them.

Her aunt had left her to deal with her own grief and to plan the next attack upon Constantine.

As she searched for a tissue, Olivia jumped back with a shriek at the little blonde haired boy that held the Kleenex box.

His eyes were filled with unshed tears as he handed her a tissue.

"Who are you?" She asked, remembering that a Nevarkis must always be brave.

"I'm Liam." He explained. "I wanted to...I wanted to tell you I'm sorry about your parents." He sniffed and took a tissue for himself. "My mom died too."

Olivia blinked and took a cautious step forward. "Are you...are you a vampire?!"

He nodded.

She whipped out the dagger her mother had given her and rushed at him.

Liam moved faster than she could comprehend, gently keeping her hand above her head.

"Let go of me, monster!" She ordered. "You're why I'm all alone!"

"I didn't do anything." He told her, anguish taking over his handsome features. "I don't want to hurt you or anyone."

"Liar!" She snapped. "That's what you do. Lie and kill." Her tears ran faster down her cheeks. "And now you'll kill me."

"I won't." He promised. "I swear I won't hurt you." He ignored his own tears trickling down his cheeks. His blue eyes burned with resolve. "My mother made me promise never to hurt a human."

Olivia shook her head. It had to be lies. Isn't that what vampires and monsters do? Lull you into letting your guard down so that they could have an easy kill.

"Your father will pay for what he did." She said, hoping to see his true, evil nature. "He must die!"

"I know." Liam slowly released her and took a step back.

Olivia watched in surprise as he sat down before her fireplace and pulled out a silk blue ribbon from his pocket.

He motioned for her to join him.

She slowly lowered herself down, dagger poised in her little fist in case he made a move.

"May I have your hand, please?" He asked.

He patiently waited on her to decide whether or not to give it to him.

She tentatively placed her hand in his.

His lips turned up into a relieved smile as he wrapped the ribbon over their joined hands.

"What are you doing?" She asked, lowering her dagger.

"Making a bond." He explained. "I, Liam Rhys, Crown Prince of the Dark Kingdom, promise to never seek out revenge and to end all vendettas against the Nevarkis family." His blue eyes held her green. "Just as my mother, Queen Eleanor wanted me to."

Oliva's lips parted. "You mean it?"

"I do." Liam's voice held a great deal of sincerity. "I would rather walk into the sun than not do as she asked."

"Oh." Olivia sniffed. She could understand that kind of devotion.

"Do you," Liam's cheeks colored. "Do you think we can be allies?"

"A Nevarkis will never be friends with a monster." She repeated the rhetoric that she knew by heart.

"But," Liam's shoulders slumped. "We're not all bad."

"All monsters are bad at heart."

"I'm not." He pouted. "I don't want to be."

"You're so weird." She muttered.

"Am not." Liam grumbled. "I hope I'm not."

Olivia looked down at their hands still bound together. "I guess since you promised something, I should too."

He didn't bother to hide his surprise.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I, Olivia Nevarkis, The Crown Princess of Cordonia, swear that after I kill Constantine Rhys, I will lay down my weapons." Her brow furrowed. "I'll pick them back up though if you or any other monster tries anything."

Liam's smile grew. Before she could react, he tugged her into a quick hug.

"Now we can be friends!" He cheered.

"Friends?" She shook her head. "I'm a Nevarkis and you're a Rhys. We can't be friends."

"We will be." He vowed, jumping to his feet. "I have to go before Father finds out I've sneaked out. I'll try to come back in a few nights."

Olivia didn't have a chance to tell him whether or not she wanted him to. In the blink of an eye, he had jumped from her balcony and was already out the palace gates.

*****************

That had been the beginning of Liam's visits. Through the years, he had remained true to his promise. He did all he could to befriend her and never tried to sway her from seeking vengeance.

Olivia had once asked him how he could take her threat against his father so easily.

He had merely shrugged, explaining that he knew it was the way of things. His father had killed both her parents, while he had only lost one. He hoped she didn't since he did not wish to see his father or her dead.

Olivia had then told him again how weird he was, bringing another smile to his lips.

And now here he was again, calmly taking her promised vengeance well.

"So what business brings you here tonight?" She asked.

"Father thinks it is time I chose a wife." Liam responded. "I thought you should know that I will be spending more time in your kingdom to find one."

Olivia shot up off the bench. "What? But you promised to never hurt a human!"

"And I will keep true to that." He explained.

"But..." Olivia's brow furrowed. "You'll turn her into a vampire."

"Only if she wishes it." Liam explained. "I won't force her to make such a decision."

"I see." She began to pace while thinking. "You'll have vampire children."

"Only if she's a vampire." He reminded her. "Remember my brother."

Olivia paused. She had forgotten about Leo Rhys, The Great Disappointment of the Dark Kingdom. His mother had begged Constantine not to turn her. It had never been asked before, and in his mercy he had agreed. That was when they all discovered that a monster and a human could only produce a human child. In order for the heir to the Dark Kingdom to be a vampire, both parents had to be the same being.

"And you'll be fine having human children?" She asked. "If you're chosen bride refuses the Vampire's Kiss?"

"Of course." He responded.

"Lord, you're so weird." She muttered.

His smirk flashed. "Let's hope the woman I choose doesn't think so."

"Are there no women in your kingdom you can choose from?" She asked.

"I've looked." He shook his head. "It's hard to explain, but if one doesn't have an arranged marriage, then we must search until we see the one meant for us."

"And you somehow got weirder." She brushed her hands down her pants and held one out to him. "Good luck, I suppose."

"Thank you." He grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. "I'll keep you updated on my progress."

"There's no need."

"Of course there is." He winked at her on his way out. "We're friends."

Her lips parted to once again remind him that they couldn't be. For some reason, she decided not to say it.

Liam had somehow wormed his way into her life and had become the closest friend she had ever had.

********************

The Lee Residence, Shanghai, China...

Lorelei paled as she reread the report. 

It can’t be. Not Now!

Of all the times for this to happen, it would be when her stubborn, foolish daughter decided to visit. 

Given the nature of her relationship with Hana, she knew that there was no way she could convince her to postpone her trip to Cordonia. 

There was only one course of action left to take. She would have to call the one man who was capable of protecting her daughter. She would promise hiim anything as long as he kept Hana out of Liam’s clutches. As much as wanted her to give up this ridiculous hobby she called a job and settled down with the right sort of man, she would never put her in the path of becoming the next vampire queen. 

Setting down the packet of information from one of her informants, she checked to make certain no servant was out in the hallway and then searched for the needed phone number.

Taking a deep breath, she placed the call.

Her trepidation grew when he didn’t immediately answer.

"Hello."

"Lord Beaumont?" 

"Yes." She could hear a door closing in the background. "Who is this?"

"Lorelei Lee." She replied.

"Lady Lorelei." He responded with a recognition. "How can I help you?"

"My daughter and her friend have got it in their heads to come visit Cordonia." She began. "I'm not certain how long they intend to stay, but I was hoping that I could retain your services."

"For what exactly?" Lord Beaumont asked.

"Protection." She replied. "I have heard through certain channels that the dark prince is beginning to search for a bride." She took a deep breath. "We do NOT want our daughter anywhere near that vile creature."

"I understand." He replied. "I usually don't do personal security. With my brother, Bertrand, retired," he hesitated, "it is left up to me to help protect Cordonia's borders."

"My husband and I would be in your debt if you could watch over her in the evenings." Lorelei cajoled. "I've heard that your brother is planning on extending his vineyards. We would be more than happy to invest in the production and distribution of his sparkling wine. Perhaps even let it be the only sparkling wine we serve in our hotels."

"Send me her information and picture. Call her and tell her that since our family is an old friend of yours, that I've volunteered to show them around. Find out where she's staying and when she plans on arriving."

"Oh thank you, my lord. We--"

"I'll also need a contract prepared and signed for all that you offered." He added.

"Yes of course. I'll get everything to you at once." She promised.

Once he ended the call, she sank back down onto her chair. 

She bowed her head and began to pray that her daughter came to no harm these next few weeks. To lose Hana to one of the many creatures that roamed the night in Cordonia was too horrible to even contemplate.

If anyone could keep her daughter safe then it was none other than Lord Maxwell Beaumont.

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian Chapter 15 rewatch thoughts

- mayfeld does hear when the droid talks to him the first time, you can see him pretending not to like he hopes he’ll just go away haha. I also guess he’s had a lot of time to think, picking apart pieces of the large fascist machine he used to be a part of and going over everything he clearly regrets 

- hahaha fennec and boba are in the back intensely keeping watch the entire time they’re on the prison planet. I suppose a good two thirds of this crew is uuuuh extremely wanted by the new republic lol

- the thing din’s voice does at the end when he says “but you still know your imperial clearances and protocols. don’t you.” is beyond fucking words, it sends a chill right through me

- 

1) din fiddling with that panel; I think he’s phenomenally nervous behind the helmet here, that’s the sort of keeping his hands busy he does when he’s anxious and 2) why the hell does boba have this many chairs instead of like space for cargo haha does he throw bounty hunter parties in here or what

- ngl boba correctly guessing at a glance what sort of ore they’re mining and informing everyone in his sardonic deadpan voice is Big Sexy  

I love how he and fennec are standing together when they’re both present in these opening scenes too, first at the very back when they’re keeping a lookout: 

and then in the foreground while they discuss the scan 

it’s a nice subtle way to get across that they already have a dynamic, they’re somewhat used to working together as a unit at this point. (she’s also looking over at him when she asks what they might be mining in there, like she’s mostly asking his opinion instead of opening it to the floor. they’re talking the mission out between them before din enters the conversation)

- the inside of slave 1 when the ship’s moving makes me a little bit motion sick, I really love seeing it but I hope we don’t stay in here too often haha

- aaaw the small weary sigh din gives upon realizing none of his bros can go with mayfeld. I’m sorry about basically your entire life buddy

-

the awkward way din adjusts the helmet like he’s trying to get used to the way it feels ;______;  

- ah the distinct implication that mayfeld is needling din about this because he’s actually feeling super uncomfortable being back in empire gear and he needs to transfer that discomfort over onto someone else so he won’t have to feel through it... very psychologically understandable and such a fucking piece of shit asshole character trait to give in to haha

- din’s level of side eye is so epic you can see it straight through the helmet fhaskjfhd

- neat detail: din’s head turns slightly toward mayfeld when he calls mandalorians a ‘race’. (it’s sort of cool  that we as the audience know why that bothers him, but mayfeld probably didn’t even pick up on it). also shows that mayfeld doesn’t actually quite understand what he’s talking about, even when he makes decent points he’s caught up in his own myopic nihilistic point of view. ‘we’re all the same’ ------> ‘everyone’s secretly as shitty as me deep down’. (which also betrays a lot of self loathing, since we see later he does have the capacity to NOT be that shitty when he chooses to. rick famuyiwa manages to get a LOT of really interesting nuanced stuff into this character in two short episodes, that’s super impressive)   

the bright sunny look on mayfeld’s face when din finally gives in and takes the bait tho fsajdkfhasj he’s awful but that’s very funny

- rip all these excellent dudes who really only wanted to accomplish the noble goal of ruining the empire’s entire day and didn’t know they were also trying to blow up My Dad Who Does Not Deserve Any Of This, it’s honestly just really sad that there’s no moment to talk that out

well at least they blew up the entire refinery on their way out, I’m sure that’s the way they would have wanted their memories honored lol

- the comedy beat of din running out of ammo for the first time ever and the music briefly cutting out for it is so so good for me 

hahahaha din seems to actually take a moment to be a little aghast at that dude who ends up crushed under the treads of the tank thing, he’s just sort of staring for a few seconds too long and that’s how pirate nr 2 takes him by surprise and shatters his shoulder armour 

- I feel a bit bad -- two of the ‘pirates’ try to hold on to each other for balance and then din punches them apart and off the tank :( I mean it’s not like he could just let them murderate him either but like. ouch I’m guessing this one might haunt him for a while for several reasons huh

(the sequence is actually this guy, let’s call him pirate 3, swings the spear at din and misses, instead hitting his buddy who’s trying to get to his feet, then looks horrified and grabs for him to make sure he doesn’t fall off, and then... mando’s forehead happens to them haha)

- poor fennec and cara just running up that hill while everything’s on fire, they must be wondering what the FUCK is going on (at least cara knows that things blowing up is a sure sign din djarin is in the middle there somewhere)

- everything about carano in real life aside for one second -- I do like that we get this contrast in build between our main female characters of the episode and the way their costume designs enhance it

 - awwww the little gesture din does with his hand after he removes it from mayfeld’s chest after stopping him from leaving, it’s just so... sweet. it’s a little bit appeal, a little bit reassurance, it just lightens/softens the tone of what he says a bit (he has quite a lot of like... not conciliatory mannerisms exactly, but small touches here and there that are there to communicate that he’s not angry/aggressive or trying to be a dick about it even when he’s emphatic. I keep wondering how much that is just him being him and how much is him being practiced at settling other people’s hot tempers)  

- this shot is just... genius

it’s din seen entirely from the outside, with nothing of what we’ve learned to recognize as him for almost two seasons now in view -- not even his face, which we have at least a tenuous fledgling attachment to from before. it’s like we get introduced to him almost as if anew again and again in this episode, just like he’s getting introduced to new aspects of himself and what he’s willing to do and having to struggle to find ways to have that fit with who he is. his discomfort and stress is our discomfort and stress. it’s so interesting 

- I can’t stop cackling at this moment even in all the tension -- you only get a sliver of din’s profile but you can feel the sheer MURDER radiating off him sdhfasjk

- aaaaaaaagh the way you get a whole different view of din’s habitual impassiveness when you can actually see his face... the way he keeps appealing to mayfeld ‘just don’t make more trouble, just shut up’, the way he goes completely silent and watchful and frozen..... those are all really obvious trauma responses, and it leads you to wonder how often he touches into that even when he’s in his element, when he’s got the full armour on. hmngh my heart  

- ‘the believer’ is such a galaxy brain title for this episode, because it could be referring to either of the three men around this table or all of them at once. (and crucially the only person whose beliefs aren’t in a living, breathing state of adapting to the world around them is the empire officer, with his horrific inhuman ideology. mayfeld thinks he believes in nothing, and proves himself explosively wrong by the end of the episode, and it’s redeeming for him in some capacity. din is facing a more internal dilemma of different parts of his (and his culture’s) beliefs/values clashing and having to decide which one’s more important, to his identity and to how to exist in the world as a person (and love for the baby wins out supremely in the end. of course it does Y_____Y). the empire dude only sees the same sterile fascist world at the end of his shit rainbow that he’s clearly always done, even when faced with proof that it’s untenable. (I mean he wouldn’t give a fuck that it’s immoral because he’s y’know evil, but he’s not even fazed by the fact that the empire provably FAILED, and failed so quickly) his belief is a dead and deadening thing to contrast the others. man when this show goes off with the themes it goes OFF haha) 

- love the triumphant heroic mando music kicking in as we’re finally getting to pick off imps, love that for us 

- din’s protective instincts at work again, he helps mayfeld to his feet and makes sure he’s safely on board before going further in himself ;_______;

- fennec’s professional approval at mayfeld’s shot hahaha. well I guess he was supposed to be a sharpshooter back in the day huh

I do Not think she likes mayfeld even after all that, though, the withering look she sends him on her way past... should have killed him stone dead on the spot

- seeing din back in the armour is like a physical relief, I can breathe again haha

- tfw you catch yourself thinking ���at least when all this is over we can go back to the razor crest and everything will be normal again’ and then you rEMEMBER 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[themosleyreview]

The Mosley Review: The Green Knight

Throughout the ages there have been countless stories or tales that focus on King Arthur and his Knights of the Roundtable. They're all great and fun, but I have always been a fan of the stories that surrounded his reign and the mythical nature of them. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight was one of those stories I loved reading in high school and it has stuck with me for those exact themes. There have been many adaptations of the famous story and this has to be one of the best I've ever seen. The romanticism of going on a quest to meet a foe is a tried and true story mechanic, but this film paints a more intimate picture as you are with the main character the entire step of the way. The scope of this adventure was massive yet small and I loved that it took its time and let you live in the world. The benefit of a slower and melodic pace truly enriches the storytelling and drives home the finer details of visual storytelling. It may not be for everyone, but this was such a magnificent adventure that is led by a stellar cast and it shouldn’t missed.

Dev Patel plays Sir Gawain and his portrayal of the character was outstanding. He nailed the characters bravery and hesitation once the opportunity to show his worth comes. You spend the entire time with the him and you feel his heart become more weary the closer he gets to his appointment with the Green Knight. I love seeing a character truly being tested physically, emotionally, morally and psychologically and Patel brings all of that home. Sarita Choudhury plays his mother/ Morgan Le Fay and I did love her nurturing words and her belief that Gawain would succeed. She has a darker motive and it comes off as if this was her chance to get at the King or test her son's character. It kind of wasn't clear in my opinion. Sean Harris was excellent as I interpreted him to be King Arthur. I loved that he portrayed him as a much older man and you can see the man's bloody and noble past in his eyes. Kate Dickie plays his Queen and I interpreted her to be Guinevere. Like Harris, you get the sense that she has seen just as much if not more than Arthur and the two of them were perfect together. It was a more human portrayal of the icons and my down to earth. Alicia Vikander does double duty in this film as Lady/Esel and she was stellar as both. As Lady, I liked her as the whore with a heart of gold and the chemistry between her and Gawain was so great that you wanted to see that happily ever after for them. As Esel, she exudes the confidence and intrigue Alicia is known for. She is the test of seduction that was fun and enchanting. Joel Edgerton was awesome as Esel's husband, Lord. He has so many great questions, stories and he kind of lightens the mood once he's on screen. I loved his portrayal of the character it was one of my favorite chapters of the film.

Barry Keoghan was great and slimy as the Scavenger. He comes off as welcoming, but he represented the test of will for Gawain and it was a great moment of visual storytelling between the two of them. Erin Kellyman was creepy and haunting as Winifred. Her story was great and had a small bit of comedy in it that I liked even if her presence brings a spooky vibe. Aside from Dev Patel, there is one man that was perfectly cast as one of the most iconic literary characters and that was Ralph Ineson as the Green Knight. His presence alone sends chills down your spine. Ralph's voice is so powerful and somewhat demonic that once he speaks, you feel as if you are hearing the voice of a God. As the Green Knight, he was fun, intimidating and shockingly jovial. I loved that he doesn't say a word not worth speaking and how his game was the true test. Ralph really brought to life the character in a new and intriguing way.

The score by Daniel Hart is out of this world! It is majestic, haunting and yet so soothing in many ways. The choral chants and melodies accentuate the eerie and sometimes elusive tone of the film. The cinematography is beautiful as we gaze upon glorious forests and landscapes, but the one location I would love to visit is the Green Chapel. It has an ethereal, creepy and yet welcoming atmosphere to it. This was one of my most anticipated films of the year and it did not disappoint. Writer/Director David Lowery has made an epic masterpiece that is haunting and satisfying. This is definitely one of the best films of the year and I can't recommend it enough! Let me know what you thought of the film or of my review in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

[sailorsero]

you know i’m stupid for you 1/?

author: claire (@sailorsero​) ship: adult kaminari denki x reader prompt/genre: band/musician!au/poppunk!denki wordcount: 1483 warnings: swearing (for the moment, this is all) a/n: • written for the BNHarem Making Beautiful Music Collaboration - check out the masterlist to see everyone elses!) • thank you to @unbreakablekiribaku​ for the header!  • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘stupid for you’ by waterparks

you know i’m stupid for you part one

***

RIOT! PRESENTS: DYNAMIGHT - A ROTATING HEADLINE TOUR Combining forces for the second annual Riot! Radio/Magazine empire tour are punk pop staples Chargebolt, indie rockers Plus Ultra! and newcomers Rolling Thunder, fresh off the release of their debut album, ‘Revelry in the Dark’. The tour format of a different running order each night, the mix of genres and an abundance of talent promises a sick show you won’t want to miss! The tour starts tomorrow night in Fukuoka, ending in Sapporo at the end of the month. Tickets | Details

Day 1: Fukuoka

***

The past 24 hours had been hectic and overwhelming; the last minute preparations, the packing, the 17 FaceTime calls Mina insisted were necessary for packing, the flight to Fukuoka, the hotel, meeting the approximately 3674 people involved in the tour (okay, really approximately), the soundchecks, the press, making sure Todoroki didn’t get lost (again). It could have been enough to have you considering your plan B vocation of Professional Kitten Cuddler (you’d seen a Buzzfeed article once), if it wasn’t for this feeling, right here and now.

The house lights had dimmed away to almost nothing, causing the steady thrum of chatter from the crowd to surge into a roar of anticipation that matched your own perfectly; waiting sidestage in the dark knowing you were on the precipice of doing what you loved most always made you feel electric.

You’d followed Shinsou onto the stage as the eyewateringly bright lights hit, securing the strap of your bass before looking without seeing out at where you knew the crowd was. You were really here, on this stage, with your best friends, on the biggest tour you’d done so far as a band. You let yourself bask in the joy that brought for a moment longer, before turning towards your bandmates, tilting your head in silent question. Quick nods from Tokoyami and Shinsou and a peace sign from Mina were all you needed before you turned to Todoroki to count in. Everything after that was the most beautiful white noise.

***

8 songs flew by quicker than you could ever remember, Shinsou’s synths fading out as Mina yelled into the mic like she was going for Present Mic’s radio slot.

“Our record is available from the merch table and we are on all relevant social media - @ rollingthunder! Our TikToks are epic! We have been Rolling Thunder, you have been fucking beautiful - goodnight!!!”

“‘Our TikToks are epic’?!” Shinsou rounded on the lead singer as soon as you were all sidestage again.

Mina put her hands on her hips, giving off the energy of an elementary school teacher who had to do this a lot. “They are epic! It’s not my fault you never want to be in them!”

“Maybe that’s why they’re epic?” Todoroki deadpanned, removing the sweat-soaked towel from around his neck.

The snort you gave out at the impossible-to-tell-if-it-was-intended-as-an-insult-or-not-because-it’s-Todoroki insult died off early as you caught sight of him.

Fuck. He’d actually gotten hotter overnight.

Kaminari made a beeline straight for you from the door that lead to the backstage area, 100 watt smile firmly in place. “Hey, you. Great set out there! Totally dope!”

“You were watching?” You were too caught off guard to school your tone into anything less giddy, and you knew you’d be hearing about it until you could hide in your bunk on the tourbus. Maybe not even then if your bandmates didn’t respect the sanctity of the curtain.

“Yeah, of course! We were up on the balcony, in the private bit? You know?” You assumed Sero and Kirishima formed the ‘we’ he was talking about, as they appeared one after another through the same door, grinning widely.

“Yeah, totally, I remember they said there was somewhere to watch the other sets from...cool!”

A part of you died inside as you heard yourself reply and you wondered briefly if there was any chance your whole band wasn’t watching this interaction. Hearing ‘cool!!!’ mimicked in four wildly different attempts at your voice shut that down.

There was no way Kaminari hadn’t heard all four impressions, but he was nice enough to pretend he hadn’t.

“Yeah! So, uh...you could totally watch our set, now! If, you know, you want...” He trailed off, looking hesitantly hopeful and fiddling with one of his many, many earrings.

His golden eyes had been staring into yours for the whole of your conversation so far and you found yourself getting lost in his gaze, all of the noise of the crowd buzzing and the crew swapping the setup over becoming distant to your ears.

Until his bassist slapped him on his back - hard - shit-eating grin all over his face.

“Smooth like silk, Denks!”

“Shut up, Sero!” Kaminari whined, breaking eye contact with you to shove at his bandmate’s arm. 

No one said anything for what felt like the longest seven seconds in history. Kirishima cleared his throat politely and smiled encouragingly, but seemed to run out of ideas after that.

“We’ll watch you guys! But only if you tell us how awesome we were!” Mina’s arm slid seamlessly to link with yours as you remembered how much you loved this pink-haired angel. She was a socialising expert and had rescued you all right before the silence had slid past the point of no return into Awkwardsville.

Kaminari seemed to share your sentiment, as it wasn’t with only a little relief he began to shower the rest of your band with praise. It was only when he’d rambled his way to complimenting the way Tokoyami held his guitar that Shinsou decided it was his turn to steer the conversation. “Don’t you have a drummer? Did he not want to watch our set?”

“Nah, he said he ‘didn’t wanna watch a bunch of electro emos with stupid hair sing about going to Hot Topic or what-the-fuck-whatever’,” Sero cheerfully announced, ignoring the choking sound the apparently-direct quote forced out of the blonde you couldn’t take your eyes off of.

“Wow. He’s charming.” Shinsou replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“He is, isn’t he?” Kirishima sighed, sounding like he’d have actual stars in his eyes if you could bring yoursef to stop looking at Kaminari and check. Which you Absolutely Could Not.

You’d met Kaminari at 1 this afternoon, and he’d been pretty much all you’d thought about since 1:01.

***

“Okay, so, Chargebolt - Eijirou Kirishima, Hanta Sero, Katsuki Bakugou, Denki Kaminari. Plus Ultra! - Izu...”

You were pretty sure one of the tour managers was still speaking, introducing the other band you were sharing this tour with, but you couldn’t focus on anything else. Kaminari. Denki. Denki Kaminari.

The ear you could see was adorned with multiple piercings, and the one you couldn’t was covered with a sweep of blonde hair with a black lightening bolt dyed into it. Golden eyes, pink lips. Not particularly tall, or jacked, but lean and muscled where you could see. A black Fatgum Records T-shirt over a black and white striped longsleeve, tucked into ripped jeans that fell into laced up boots. Were those fingers tattoos? It was definitely yellow nail polish and a multitude of silver rings. Talk about ‘exactly my type on paper’. Fuck!

You wondered for a second who exactly it was who had given this man the right. Then you realised he was moving - towards you.

“Hey! Y/N Y/L/N, right? I heard you guys on Present Mic’s show, the Live Lounge? That was incredible!”

Had your mouth been wide open the entire time he was talking? You really couldn’t be sure either way.

“Hey! Yeah, that’s uh...me! Thanks, I was really nervous but he was so cool.”

Kaminari nodded enthusiastically, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Present Mic? Yeah, what a legend! We haven’t been on for a hot minute but we’ll probably go back next album cycle.”

You were pretty sure you were supposed to be making introductions to everyone in the room right now, but before you knew it, it had been fifteen minutes and the only person you’d spoken to was Kaminari. A way-too-stressed-for-the-first-day-of-tour looking woman was trying to politely usher Kaminari away to wherever Chargebolt’s schedule had them being right now, but he hesitated after he said a (hopefully) reluctant goodbye.

“Yeah, so...it’s so cool to be working with you! And, y’know, that work is...touring together, so we could like...hang out! Yeah? If you want?”

You ignored your own manager materialising at your side tapping her watch for a moment longer to nod quickly and breathe out a response.

“Yeah, we could, I want.”

Kaminari’s face broke out into a smile as big as the gag Shinsou was doing behind him. “Yeah. Yeah! Great! See you later!”

You’d pretended not to watch them leave the room.

The rest of your band had been only too happy to inform you that you’d failed to pull it off.

***

i have decided to make this a multi-chapter fic and will post/link a masterlist and link to ao3 when i post there so you can follow this story if you would like to!

ao3  • collab masterlist

[metanoiamorii]

❛Peace through Power; Faith through Fire.❜

♧ Title: War of Wrath [WoW]

♧ Status: Brainstorming and Drafting

♧ Point of View: Third Person

♧ Genre: Fantasy, Action, Drama, Epic

♧ Warnings: Violence, War, Death, Nudity, Racism, Past Abuse, Generational Healing, Generational Trauma, Vengeance, Genocide, Colonialism, ethics vs morals, history erasure, history repeats itself, humans are the bad guys really.

♧ Featuring: Dragons, Dragons in themselves deserve recognition; found family, diverse LGBTQ+ characters, complex and complicated characters, fantasy religions, plenty of symbolism, complex world building, ethics vs morals, a whole lot of moral grey can be fit into this bad boy, there is some enemies to friends to lovers going on, and some enemies to friends to family too.

♧ Setting: there will be encompass of territories and areas explored. Few inspirations are Mongolia, The Incan Empire, Viking Scandinavia, Ancient Greece.

♧ Synopsis:

In Gri'lian, the gods have vanished and the mortals overstep their boundaries.

Long have been the years of war between human and dragekind. Humans kill the dragons for territory and control; the drage kill the humans in self defense. As time goes on, history proves the humans will not stop. They revel in the war they have instigated, they thrive on the power and authority they have taken by force.

It has been proven the gods have abandoned their creation, they are nowhere to be found. If they will not stop the humans... who will? Who will place the world back into natural balance?

What happens when a single dragon decides enough is enough? He makes the call, if the gods will not intervene, new gods need to be bore. He alone begins a collection of misfits, the most qualified to end the terror of humans and reinstate the drages; those he can trust to bring a new era.

They make their peace and take on their new role. They carve into their skin their sacred oath and adorn themself in the paint of their ancestors. Together, they go to war against the human. They go to war and fight like no one has before. They turn the tides of war and make a name for themself.

They have won every battle, but the war isn't won.

The only way to win the war, they come to realize in time, is not through violence, but through peace. By living in harmony with the human, not in war. They have to learn to live with the humans, to share the world and their lives with one another.

♧ Tease:

Faith through fire, peace through power; our souls bear written this vernacular. Our intentions we laid bare, yet all still cower in fear. To absent gods you make your prayers.... when we answer, you acclaim we give scare? If the help you wish to shun, why should we give chance upon chance to you anymore?

We fight for family, for it is our duty and sacred honor; with blood and fire, we will show you the price of war.

A battle you wished for, know a war you shall now pay for. The natural order we shall restore. Know, although bound to be ignore, our actions are only sincere. This war, by your hand, was it made so severe... For pride, a glut of greed, you were made a whore. Nay, your life we will not spare.

Why?

Why of your lives will we not spare?

Perhaps reminder is require.

The waters have turned red, from the blood we have bled. Of you, we pled, yet our mothers and fathers and our brothers and our sisters you behead. Of daughters and sons you have killed.

Your acts you dare to justify, lacking a shred of dignity?!

You have denied us as your friend, with caution you should have tread... for now? You are dead.

A warning:

They say, the red sun marks death, signal bloodshed beneath the light of its brothers and sisters in the passing darkness... know, for you it is coming.

♧ Excerpt:

"... Father." With only respect, Svihar greeted.

Violkoa shifted his hold onto his fan, blowing a light gust with it. "Svihar." He greets back, in a tone less than kind. "You are a rare one to come, what is it?"

It was no lie. He paid more respect to Kallai, sharing in her beliefs. But still... Here he was, kneeling before his father. "I seek your blessings, Father."

That scowl so neatly woven upon Violkoa's features nearly lightened. Bemused. He cocked an eyebrow and closed his fan. "What do you seek blessings for?"

"An honour battle." Svihar drew his head forward, daring his eyes from the floor to meet Violkoa's.

Now that scowl faltered, the rare smirk pulled onto that stoic and weathered face. "An honour battle?" Violkoa's repeated. "With whom?"

"Whomever I desire." It is a bite, with fangs drawn. Realizing his mistake, Svihar lowers his head and draws in a breath through his nose. "All that have broken their oaths to you, those that cannot adhere to order, the ones who know no law..."

Violkoa unfurled his fan. He shifts the arm he holds around himself and stands, fanning himself.

Silence.

Svihar keeps his head low, awaiting a response. He knows better than to raise his head and tempt a response. He waits. He waits.

He waits until the fan snaps shut in harshness, a gust of wind sent through the chambers. The fan disappears into Violkoa's sleeve as his arm raises, he plucks the center spine from the bun he wears and strides forward. He does not drop to his knees, but he lowers himself so he may spin his son's hair into a similar bun and tuck the spine into it.

To his feet, Violkoa rises. He turns upon his heels, his quilled tail dragging behind him as he disappears back into the temple. He gives a simple command, as Svihar rises to his feet, only when Violkoa no longer is in sight: "Go to war, My Son."

♧ Characters:

— The Lovers

Kaithrine Eve Flora; The First Dragonlord

Female • She/Her • Human • Pansexual • Demiromantic

The young woman that rules Virta'Niliq. Ruler from a young age, Kaithrine has matured faster than she should have. She understands the way of the world more than the adults around her do. As she ages, she meets her future husband, and she becomes the heroine of a story as old as time when she joins forces with the league of dragons that plague the humans. She leads by example and creates history as its known.

Eoin'fynil Sirenheart; The Blood Taint

Amab • Agender • He/They • Water Dragon • Pansexual • Demiromantic

A man with a legacy to uphold: his grandmother is the refined ruler of a sea with a ruthless reputation, his father is an enigma with a merciless reputation.... Eoin'fynil is a nomad, trying to put a distance with his family to raise his son. He puts distance with his family, but he can't outrun a young girl with high ambitions, and his role in history.

— The Order

Svihar Hopebringer; The Father of the Order

Intersex • Genderqueer • He/They • Rainbow Dragon • Asexual • Aromantic

The drage who has brought on a revolution. Although he carries a ruthless reputation to his name, demonized by the humans, he's a very compassionate man. He cares immensely and expresses deeply. He's faithful till the end to his kindred and protective of the family he has created.

Ryltar Flametongue; The Cinder King

Transmasc • Agender • He/They • Fire Dragon • Grey-Asexual • Demi-Homoromantic

The one Svihar trusts the must, and the drage all know stand as his favorite child. He's a drage without compassion that will raze everything before his eyes to ashes, if it means winning the war. He is one the humans fear, as they know he has no mercy to give to them for their crimes.

Dyiare Seawraith; The Wraith of the Sea

Transfem • She/Her • Water Drage • Grey-Asexual • Demi-Homoromantic

The grandmother of Eoin'fynil, known as one of the Sages of the Sea. She's a woman that doesn't smile, her mind fixed only on her responsibilities. She's serious and stern, she has no room to relax and laugh.

Syvtnr Venomtongue; The Enchantress of Reckoning

Afab • Nonbinary • She/They • Nature Dragon • Polyamorous Pansexual • Aromatic

A drage known to masquerade as a human. Famed for her beauty, she is a seductress who uses that weapon to bring humans to their knees. Apathetic, she does not regret using her tacts of manipulation to secure victory for her kindred. And yet, it's her price to bear few see beyond her beauty, she's not seen as a individual, but often only as a tool.

Ayros Golden-Father; The Heart of the Order

Amab • Agender • He/They • Light Dragon • Polyamorous Pansexual • Polyamorous Demiromantic

The trusted advisor, the one Svihar will most frequently turn to when he needs the truth, or advice. A quiet man, Ayros will keep to himself and not offer his unsolicited advice. He will most frequently stand back and observe; he will make himself known, his authority acknowledged, when necessary.

My'fel Frigidbane; The White Shadow

Amab • Demiboy • He/They • Snow Dragon • Bisexual • Aromantic

Simple-minded compared to the rest, My'fel is a drage with a one-track mind. He cares for his basic needs: food, sleep, reproduction, and the art of hunting. He's ill-tempered and reclusive, he doesn't care for companionship, and nothing seems to be able to make him change his ways.

Nyhmar Bronze-Heart; The Righteousheart

Afab • Nonbinary • They/Them • Earth Dragon • Demisexual • Demiromantic

Viewed as Benevolent, Nyhmar is anything as. Perhaps the most bloodthirsty of their family, they have earned a reputation for being amicable and approachable. History forgets how they reigned as a warlord before they joined Svihar, and they demand the blood of all humans, deeming no one innocent of their ancestors' crimes.

Rauor Savage-Heart; The Heartless Beast

Amab • Agender • They/He • Fang Dragon • Pansexual • Aromantic

The youngest of the family and it shows. He follows closely in the footsteps of his more heartless siblings, particularly My'fel. Known for his sadistic streak and apathetic nature, Rauor is an individual that never quite learned that you don't play with your food.

Za-Ylviar Nightstalker; The Eternal Nightmare

Afab • Agender • They/Them • Energy Dragon • Asexual • Aromantic

The most revered of their family by the humans. They favor the terror Rauor instills, the flavor of death Ryltar enjoys, and the dread Zivaryz embodies. They are brutal, erratic, dangerous. No one believes they are capable of compassion and thread with caution when their name is evoked.

Clyte Starforger; He Who Lights The Way

Male • He/Him • Star Dragon • Asexual • Aromantic

Compared to his siblings, Clyte is harmless. He's not violent, nor does he care for blood. He enjoys mischief, causing problems and reveling in watching others trip over their own feet. He's a trickster, to put it plain.

Zivaryz Endbringer; He Who Will Destroy The World

Intersex • Agender • They/He • Bone Dragon • Asexual • Aromantic

Viewed as an object, a weapon, Zivaryz is not viewed as a living and breathing individual. Although a dragon, both human and dragekind will vy to possess the weapon that is Zivaryz. Known to destory everything they touch, they will wither and drain the life of all things they can. A valuable weapon to have in a war.

L'ymra Spiritwalker; They Who Know All

Afab • Genderfluid • They/She/He • Spirit Dragon • Asexual • Aromantic

Perhaps the most soft of their family, L'myra is not a fighter, they do not care for blood and war. They desire peace, harmony. They wish to see the land heal, and the mistakes and crimes of the past be acknowledged. There is a long way to recovery, but they are adamant it will happen one day.

Blym Serenescales; The Guardian Beneath the Skies

Intersex • Genderqueer • They/Them • Air Dragon • Demisexual • Demiromantic

The most akin to their father, Blym puts family and responsibilities before all else. They hold the goals Svihar has set out for them. They aspire to be honorable and never be swayed, no matter the trouble they face for keeping a positive outlook on life.

♧ Taglists:

WOW: @lend-your-lungs-to-me, @wannabeauthorzofija, @northernrosewritings, @shadeshadow234, @necros-writings, @rhikasa

GENERAL: @endlesshourglass, @writerray, @poore-choice-of-words, @primusesgiantmetalballbearings

BOTH: @notugalan, @cecilsstorycorner, @little-boats-on-a-lake, @hazard-writes, @aligned-stars-writing

[natromanxoff]

Queen live at Earls Court Exhibition Centre in London, UK - June 6, 1977 (Part-1)

The last two nights of the tour were very special. Queen used an expensive lighting rig called "Crown" for the very first time. Both shows were also officially recorded on video and the first show was also released on many bootlegs in almost excellent quality. Both gigs included a superb rock'n'roll medley (this medley is also the only bootleg recording from the second night).

(x)

Queen capped off the A Day At The Races tour with two shows at London's Earls Court Arena. According to the tour programme there was only supposed to be one night at Earls Court, on June 5. The itinerary was amended due to ticket demand. The proceeds from this show went to the HRH Queen's Silver Jubilee Appeal.

The band dropped £50,000 on a new lighting rig for these shows, which was a giant crown - 25 feet tall by 54 feet wide, weighing two tons. Queen were pioneers of many rock concert spectacles, including this very first mobile lighting rig.

The music of Chopin (Freddie's choice) plays as the audience enter the venue. At this point, one can barely see the stage, as the crown is only a few feet above it, with black drapes below it - thus hiding everything on stage, and causing some audience members to wonder where the band will be playing! Procession is heard (revived only for the Earls Court shows, and never to be used again), and then the A Day At The Races overture rings through the speakers. Part way through, the crown slowly begins to rise, and out comes the dry ice (the first picture above was taken during this moment). Queen then burst onto the stage to perform Tie Your Mother Down, and the show goes on as usual.

According to Freddie, perfume came naturally "from London" tonight during Killer Queen. He changed the lyric at many shows in the past month, and he would again do this in Tokyo in 1979.

Playing to the hometown crowd seems to presents a slight tension in the air for the band. Still, there are many incredible moments throughout. Brian's Brighton Rock guitar solo is epic (even incorporating bits of Frère Jacques and Three Blind Mice), and he really shines with his delay technique at the end of Doing All Right. Freddie's voice is in pretty good shape tonight, but he has problems hitting a few of the higher notes, unlike the Bristol and Glasgow shows in previous weeks. Still, he puts in great performances of Doing All Right, White Man, and In The Lap Of The Gods...Revisited. To lighten things up, Roger often screams things in the background between songs, not to mention his duck quack before '39, heard at this point in the set at many shows during this period.

During this time period, Freddie wasn't heard singing "I see a little silhouetto of a man" on the tape of Bohemian Rhapsody's opera section. In 1975 and '76, Freddie sang this line live, so it was muted on the tape. The band continued to use this version of the tape through November 1978, with the exception of the Earls Court shows because the promo video for the song was shown on the big screens during the opera section.

Tonight the band cover Elton John's "Saturday Night's All Right For Fighting" during the Jailhouse Rock medley. Sporting his dazzling silver lurex outfit, Freddie emerged from a trap door for the second encore, but the videos from both nights unfortunately don't focus on him at that moment. The whole band (especially Roger) are a joy to watch during the medley. At the end of the show, the lights continue to sparkle as the crown descends to its original position.

Since Queen used the two video screens on either side of the stage at Earls Court (as confirmed by a review of the second night) like Led Zeppelin did in 1975, the shows exist on film. This most likely indicates that the shows weren't filmed with the intention of releasing them. Footage from both nights has popped up in various documentaries.

Shortly after the shows, the band must have listened to the recordings and realized how awful John Deacon's voice sounded in the harmonies of Somebody To Love. His microphone would never be turned up again (except for in Buenos Aires '81, but for an entirely different reason).

In November 2009 the band posted some concert videos from the 70s on their website in conjunction with the release of their "Absolute Greatest" compilation, including You Take My Breath Away from this show. An amp blows up during the song, but it has been muted for this release, although Freddie is still seen somewhat startled by it. The song was also made available on iTunes in conjunction with the re-releases of the first five Queen albums in 2011.

Some footage from this concert was shown at the "Stormtroopers in Stilettoes" Queen exhibition in London in early 2011. While the picture quality was the same as in the old documentaries, the sound was a new stereo mix from the master tapes. Footage from the show was seen in a 2015 BBC documentary called "From Rags To Rhapsody," using this same stereo mix. Freddie's voice crack on "school boy" in Death On Two Legs was patched up presumably with the second night's audio. Part of '39 was also shown, but the audio is a hybrid of the two nights (instrumentally it's the first night, but the lead and backing vocals are from the second night, with the exception of Freddie's "all together" connecting the final two choruses). However, the issue remains that Freddie's piano vocal mic track is apparently blank on the multi-track master tapes for both nights at Earls Court.

Finally, the rock section of Bohemian Rhapsody from this show was used in the 2018 "Bohemian Rhapsody" film (it's almost certainly a hybrid of the two nights at Earls Court). There have been a few slight fixes and overdubs on this material in the various releases and documentaries - see Chinwonder's video analysis for details.

The pre-show pictures were taken in front of the newly-built crown lighting rig (Queen's crew are seen in the last two). The last pic was taken by Watal Asanuma.

Part-2

[tinyboxxtink]

Hey so loved your black magic series! I read your post about using REE/Rafael. I’ll read anything you write but this idea to me is RPF and kind of squicks. ☹️ Maybe if you use another character he played? Nevada?! Someone sees “Barba” doing something super bad and they’re all “omg omg” and think it’s Barba? 🤷🏻‍♀️

I hear you, I do. HOWEVER, I made a "Version" of Raul Esparza in this story that is 5 years younger, and...I hate to say it, "more" famous?

IDK I wrote a 'prototype' chapter last night, so I'm gonna put this to you. I assume/hope you're an avid reader and I can gauge the public consensus, but also I want ALL my readers to be happy!!

So here, read this and then tell me if you still find the idea "Squicky".

That goes for anyone else! Maybe I should put my tag list in here....

The way I wrote him though anon, I truly feel in my heart that it's not RPF, because like I said RPF freaks me out as well.

Before you already go in skeptical, let me set up the plot I had planned. {As told to @madamsnape921 in an IM:

the thing was gonna start that someone sees Rafael proposing to the reader, and tells a tabloid that Raul Esparza is engaged to some rando. Because they think that it was him. And then Rafa, the reader and Chloe start to discuss on how either it's a multiverse thing, or a doppelganger thing because it turns out that Rafael and Raúl are very similar, like personality traits and the Broadway dream, except that Raul's childhood was basically the opposite of Rafael's so Chloe THINKS that Raul is Rafael from a "multiverse".

Right and then Raul goes to Rafael's office to confront him and then the reader and Chloe are there to take Rafael out to lunch and they're like holy shit!

And Rafael is super uncomfortable with the idea of the reader EVER being in a show with Raul because obviously they're like the same person and Raul probably has more in common with her

Oh and also Raul is five years younger, and thinner. So then Raul's like you shouldn't listen to him, I could really help you with your career.

Annnnd that's all I have so far.

Okay so read this really and tell me you honest opinion.

Screw it putting the tag list:

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

You were walking towards the exit of Central Park hand in hand with your now fiancee, when all of a sudden two giggling girls came running up to you.

“Oh my god!!!!! Raul we didn’t know you had a girlfriend!” One of them started squealing.

“Fiancee,” He corrected. “Wait I’m sorry, what? Did you just call me Raul?”

“Uh...yeah, duh,” One of the girls made a face. “Raul Esparza?”

“What?” You bursted out laughing. “I’m sorry, you think he’s Raul Esparza?”

“Um, we know he is,” The other one crossed her arms.

“Um, no he isn’t!” You wrapped your arm around Rafael protectively, as if the two girls were going to kidnap him or something.

“I can promise you ladies, I am not-- whoever you just said,” Rafael assured them.

“Why are you doing this? Are you trying not to embarrass your lady friend here?” One of the girls made a weird face at you.

“Wha? No--” Rafael tried to defend himself but the girls were already clearly ticked off.

“Wow, I have heard of actors trying to get away from fans but completely pretending to be another person, that’s pretty low Raul,” One of them glared at Rafael.

“Yeah, it wouldn’t have taken you much effort to just take a selfie with us,” The other one added with a scowl.

“I...um--” He looked to you for help, but you just shrugged. You had no idea how to handle such a weird situation.

“I guess we can take one--” He offered.

“Oh no, forget it now,” One girl scoffed.

“Yeah, jerk!” The other one stomped her foot and they both sauntered away angrily.

-----------

“...What the hell was that?” Rafael looked at you in utter confusion and disbelief, you just gave him a “wtf” smile.

“I have no idea baby--”

“Oh my god, are you guys ok?” Chloe suddenly came running up behind you. “What the hell did those teeny boppers want? To rob you with water guns or something?”

“No they-- they wanted a selfie?” Rafael was still confused, trying to figure out what just happened.

“A selfie? With you?” Chloe snorted.

“No-- With Raul Esparza,” You looked at her with a confused smile. It was pretty entertaining to think that your fiance looked like a Broadway star.

“I don’t get it, you said that I didn’t even look like him!” Rafael looked at you.

“I mean I said I didn’t see it, and that you were more handsome,”

“....Yeah well you might wanna rethink that answer babe,” Chloe’s eyes were wide as she handed you her phone. She had googled RAUL ESPARZA, and the images that popped up were-- Rafael’s face.

“Oh my God…” You whispered, showing Rafael the phone. He quickly pulled out his own and started searching for himself. You handed Chloe back her phone and did the same. Pages and pages of articles about Raul Esparza’s shows, and accelaides, and all with Rafael's face plastered all over them.

“He’s….me,” Rafael whispered in horror.

“He looks more like you than you do!” You teased, he looked at you with a very serious face. Clearly he was not ready to joke about this yet.

“Holy shit. This is some multiverse shit,” Chloe muttered as she went through her Google search.

“Excuse me?” You asked her.

“You know, the multiverse theory? There’s an infinite amount of universes in every decision anyone ever makes.”

“Meaning…?” Rafael asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Raul could be Rafael, if he hadn’t given up on his Broadway dream,”

“Oh my god,” Rafael started laughing. “Chloe, did you get loaded in the park or something?”

“Oh okay, so you have a better idea, big brain lawyer?” She crossed her arms.

“He might not, but I do,” You piped up, showing her your phone.

“Doppelgangers?” Chloe read with a face.

“Yes, it’s a fact that there are 5 people in the world with the EXACT same face,” You continued reading.

“And he just happens to live in New York, where Rafael lives? AND is on Broadway, the one thing Rafael gave up?”

“Look sure it’s a million to one shot that those events would line up, but what’s more plausible: Doppelganger or ‘Multiverse’?” You looked at Chloe, who looked at Rafael, so you turned to Rafael as well.

“...Wha--are you asking me?” He asked.

“I mean it is your face,” You shrugged. “What do you think, baby?”

“I’m leaning towards a doppelganger, sorry Chloe,” He shrugged as well.

“Yeah well, you’re probably right,” Chloe nodded as she read her own phone, still on Raul Esparza info. “Most likely because he’s five years YOUNGER than you,”

“WHAT?!” Rafael grabbed her phone; as he read it, his face fell. “Oh God, no…”

“Wha--What does it matter how old he is, Rafa?” You furrowed your brows.

“Or the fact that he’s clearly thinner and more attractive,” Chloe added with a smirk.

“CHLOE,” You scolded her. “What the ever loving fuck?”

“Well, I’m just saying-- Look at them side by side,” Chloe had a photo of Rafael from some mayor’s ball next to Raul Esparza at the Tonys, both in tuxedo’s. You wouldn’t admit to Rafael but Raul was definitely thinner, and...he looked a lot younger. It was probably Botox or something you were sure, but still….

“Okay but again WHY does it matter--?” You wanted to change the subject.

“Are you kidding me? Y/N-- This is what you want to do!” He gestured to Chloe’s phone.

“....I don’t want Raul--” You started.

“No, you want to be on Broadway though!! And, and what if someday, God forbid, you end up in a show with this guy? He clearly already has a leg up on me compatibility wise, and as Chloe so kindly pointed out, a leg up on me age and attractiveness wise, and--” Rafael started ranting and rambling, talking lightening fast, as he did when he got upset or excited.

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa, back up there counselor,” You put up a hand to his face. “Are you actually insinuating that if I worked with Raul Esparza, that I would magically fall in love with him?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Rafael was triggered by the mention of magic and love.

“Okay but I’m not even saying ‘magic’ magic, I’m just saying-- What do you think because he’s an actor, and younger than you I’m just going to think I’m better off with him? Just because he has your face?” You gave him a small “oh honey” smile as you placed your hands on either of his face.

“No, but if you have to play his love interest, and you spend every day with him, it might blur the lines--” He started grumbling.

“Rafael, baby--” You shook his head in your hands. “I am still in SCHOOL. I am nowhere NEAR being in a Broadway show as a freaking techie, let alone a love interest starring opposite Raul Esparza,”

“Yeah, I mean this guy is huge-- 3 Tonys, 2 Emmys, an Oscar--” Chloe rattled off, but stopped when she realized you were glaring at her. “What? I’m helping!”

“...See? He’s far too famous for me,” You pressed your forehead to Rafael’s.

“Right, and I’m just the lowly ADA,” He muttered.

“Lowly my ass, Rafa,” You hit him playfully. “You are the most respected ADA in all of New York,”

“I’m the only ADA of New York,” He made a face.

“Not true! Just the city,” You beamed, proud of yourself you did some research once you had gotten together.

“My point is Rafael,” You now put your hands on his collar and pulled yourself into him. “You are all the acclaim I need,” You kissed him softly. “You’re my everything, I mean for fuck’s sake you just held a one man flash mob to propose to me! Let’s Raul Esparza do THAT,” You laughed, hoping to make him feel better. As his scowl melted into a smile, you knew you had succeeded.

“That was pretty romantic wasn’t it?” He beamed, proud of himself.

“It was EPIC,” Chloe chimed in, for good this time.

“Your voice is beautiful by the way,” You had forgotten in the midst of all of the romantic hubbub to compliment him. “I’m really sorry you had to give up Broadway,”

“Yeah, well-- apparently some part of me didn’t,” He gestured to his phone.

“Well he doesn’t have me,” You pointed out.

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” Rafael grinned as he pulled you into a deep kiss.

“Now can we please just forget about--” You hesitated, deciding not to mention his name again. “Anything else, and just focus on our engagement night?”

“Well, I suppose--” He nodded as he put an arm around you, and the three of you continued to walk through the park.

-------

Across town in a swanky New York Penthouse, an alert went off on Raul Esparza’s phone. He had it set to notify him any time his name appeared in a headline on the internet. He glanced over and picked it up, reading the notification. As he read it, his eyes widened and his face grew red. He stood up and yelled to no one in particular,

“Who the FUCK is trying to impersonate me?!”

[trickstercheebs]

How about gordon comforting borrower! Benery after something scary happened? -HLVRAHigh 💖

alright here u goh! takes place a lil bit in the future of my fic :V

He was still getting used to knowing he had roommates, specially roommates he had just only found out about four months ago living with him. Since then everyday felt like he was learning a dozen or so more rules or facts about his new tiny group of...friends?

Tommy and Coomer were always more than happy to inform him about new things he was clueless about, and in return he did the same for anything they didn’t know that he did. He found out Coomer could access his computer with a level of ease he considered concerning...until he found out all Coomer liked to do was get lost in the endless holes of information that Wikipedia offered, along with some various cooking videos on youtube. Tommy would sometimes sit with him and read along on the screen, it was kinda cute watching the tiny pair sit on his wrist rest and scroll for a few hours. 

Bubby strangely would only come over to join the mini group when cooking was the subject..He seemed to only calm down when watching someone make some sort of dish...and of course when Coomer was beside him. Gordon found out after several scorching trial and errors that Coomer was a expert at getting Bubby to calm down and not set fires out of rage or stress. But he had been noticing lately even without Coomers help the mini firestorms had gone down considerably, for which he was ultimately thankful for.

Though...Gordon had taken notice that whenever he was in the kitchen, Bubby somehow always happened to be nearby to watch and sometimes give a few tips from the counter, and his few bad attempts never seemed to get too burned to warrant throwing out nowadays. Maybe sometime soon he ask Bubby officially to help him cook something for everyone.

Benry though...he was very strange to figure out at first. The others had fled being seen by him for weeks aside from him. Benry had come out the moment the so called “jig” was up and started talking with him for hours on end...And despite all that talking Gordon still had little to no idea what the tiny borrower was about. The “sweet voice” he did most of the time, while very pretty to watch float around his head, was just as strange.. He had asked Tommy from time to time to translate when he found out the other borrower seemed to know inherently what the colors translated to and would happily lend a hand in the form of some honestly cute little rhyme to make it easier to remember for them both. Eventually Gordon got the idea after a few weeks of this and started to slowly map out Benrys feelings throughout the days when the sweet voice was more present than his actual voice.

Today was one of those days, Gordon had woken up to the sounds of heavy rain and after a quick look to the weather channel saw it’d be like this most of the day with possible chances of thunderstorms. He personally liked when the heavy storms rolled through, the town really needed it after the dry spell it’s been having for the last few months or so. The resulting day was a sleepy one at best, Gordon setting up a slow cooker of his favorite soup to dig into when it was time to eat with everyone.

Until then he sat on the couch with some snacks and caught up on some shows he had been prompted into watching by his tiny group, knowing they’d all be out and about soon enough, he could already hear Coomer and Bubby on his computer. Tommy was likely with Sunny....or Sunkist as Tommy had renamed her these days.. It didn’t take long for him to feel a tiny weight settle itself on his right shoulder and a even tinyer yawn to reach his ears.

“Sup Gordo....sleepy day today? Fuckin...lofi chill rainstorms to sleep to man..”

“Mornin Benry, and yeah seems like today’s a sleepy one. Weather forecast says its gonna rain all day today.”

“Mhm...niiice, cosy bro mode today..”

“Pfft, you sound like you’re about to pass out on me Benry, didn’t you just wake up?”

“Maybe....? Not my fault big bro Gordo gotta be all fuckin warm n cosy. S’fuckin cheating..”

Gordon couldn’t help but chuckle at that last very tired sounding quip and glanced down at the borrower in question. Benry was splayed out almost like a cat on his broad shoulder sucking up his residual body heat, only to be jostled a bit by his laughter.

“C’mon dude get down from there, I don’t wanna knock you off on accident or something.”

“Mmm maybe later, comfy here just fine bro, won’t fall off I got like..excellent climber hacks trust me.”

“Alright then, but I’ll warn you when I feel like movin or something.”

“Hell yea man no worries here. Your lil buddy Benry’s got it all on lockdown.”

Gordon let out another laugh before they both settled down to watch whatever show he had picked out.

----

A few hours had passed in relative comfortable silence amidst the rain, the soft background noise making Gordon a tad bit sleepy even now when it hit. A bright flash lit up the somber gray world for a brief second, just long enough to rouse him into a bit more of a alert state when the second half came.

It sounded like a gunshot had gone off, the thunder rolling loud enough to rattle the windows with its concussive force. From his computer he could hear Bubby let out a surprised series of curses followed by what he could assume was Coomer rattling off the wikipedia article on thunderstorms. So far so good right?

He heard a soft but tinny noise sound off beside him, or rather next to his head before another crack of thunder sounded off and made the lights flicker briefly with the charge.

“Jesus hell, guess this is quite the storm huh Benry? ......Benry?”

He looked to where the sleepy borrower should of been laying...only to find him missing entirely, and instead felt something..or hopefully someone clutching the side of his neck in a surprising death grip.

“Benry..? You alright down there? You uh...kinda gripping the living hell out of my neck there dude...Something wrong?”

That same tinny noise kicked off again and Gordon could see some small orbs float up...they looked alot like..rancid beer? He sat there for a moment and let the rhyme come to him given Benry’s reaction and refusal to talk or let go of him..

“Color like rancid beer...means acute fear? Benry lil bro..are you scared right now?”

He placed a hand against the spot he felt Benry clutching at him and felt the briefest nods against his fingers. Shit if it was loud to him then it must be outright deafening for someone like Benry and the others...though it seemed like Benry was the only one being affected right now.

Gordon let out a slow sigh and tried to gently ease Benrys death grip on his neck with both hands.

“It’s all good Benry, I’m here I gotcha..c’mon dude it’s fine I won’t let anything happen to you okay?”

Slowly he felt the grip lessen until he felt the weight shift slowly into his awaiting hands. Cupping them gently he moved to bring Benry up to face him and opened his hands. Inside was a clearly frightened borrower..Gordon felt a pang of saddness seeing that expression on the usually chill borrowers face. So instead he offered a warm smile and shifted to lay down on the couch, grabbing the blanket pooled around his lap in the process.

“It’s alright man, thunderstorms scare me too sometimes, y’know? They scared the hell outta me in college for years. But I learned about it and I slowly stopped being afraid..”

“...s’loud...wish the sky would shut its fuck..”

“Yeah it’s really loud..might mean it’s right on top of us..but I think it’ll move soon..wanna know a secret on how to tell its going away?”

“...tips and tricks from...big Gordos book of hacks? ..okay.”

Gordon snorts softly and lays his head against the far armrest of the couch and gently deposits Benry on his chest before adjusting the blanket over them both, Gordon seeing the soft blue glow of Benrys little eyes staring up at him as he got settled and placed a hand behind him for bonus warmth and protection..It seemed to do the trick as those vivid blues dulled to a soft sky blue and he felt Benrey sag against his chest after a few moments.

“When you see the lightening you count a few seconds..and when the thunder hits, that’s how many miles the storm is..the longer the pause means the farther away its getting..If you want I can show you and let you know how far or close the storm is.”

“....okay, sounds fucky but big science Gordo gotta know the good science..”

Gordon waited for a moment or two for the next flash and mentally counted down the seconds until the thunder sounded out...it was only a few seconds but it was already moving out by the sounds of things..possibly down the valley like most other storms did.

He relayed the message to Benry and saw that he did perk up a bit at the news.

“If you want, you can stay in there and I’ll tell you when its moving away, alright?”

“Mhm...sounds good to me man..”

What Gordon didn’t know though was that Benry had already nearly forgotten the storm thanks to a new sound overtaking the noise itself... Gordon had unknowingly placed him over his heart, or close enough to it that Benry could hear it as he laid against the other.. Coupled with the heat radiating off the giant human and darkness he felt...safer. He knew Tommy was going to rag on him later but..he felt nice being like this with the human. He might of had a little crush on the human and relished being close to him whenever he could. He was terrified of storms, the noise hurt his ears like hell and reminded him of...not so epic times..But thankfully Gordon pushed all those thoughts away and now he was here and safe.

It was all just enough to make him wanna sleep, he was warm and certainly cosy enough. Letting out a yawn he let those fail ass thoughts drift away as he looked up at Gordons smiling face and felt his own heat up a bit..Yeah he could sleep knowing someone like that was nearby.

“Gettin sleepy already Benry?”

“...maybe, wake lil Benny bro for supper please?”

“Pffft, yeah alright, I’ll let you know when it’s time to eat..get some rest Benry”

“M’kay boss, you got it.”

Benry smiled and mouthed something else privately before letting the slow thrum of Gordons heart and heat lead him into dreamland. Gordon being the comfortable man he was..accidentally nodded off as well shortly after.

Bubby woke them both up by threatening to burn Gordons beard off a few hours later. But for once the malice was not present in his voice.

[planetsam]

Michael Sanders prompt: could you do a follow up where Walt makes Michael go to college? 

Follow up to THIS

Walt isn’t surprised to see Alex waiting there alone.

Alex looks heartbreakingly young but still every bit the stubborn punk whose defied his father enough times to be sent away. Walt wishes he could say he’s disappointed Jesse isn’t here to see his son off, but he expected that from him. No, Walt realizes the person he’s disappointed in his own son. Which he’s planning on dealing with in due time. But first things first. He puts the truck in park and tries not to watch hope and then disappointment fall over Alex’s features.

“Don’t look too disappointed.”

“Mr. Sanders,” he says respectfully, “I’m sorry I thought—“ he stops and Walt remembers that the military is about as understanding as Alex’s father, “Sorry.”

“You don’t gotta apologize, I saw you waiting here, figured you might want the company.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Alex says.

“It’s nothing. Apparently my son was an idiot last night and punched out Wyatt Long’s tires,” Alex’s face falls and Walt realizes he’s not the only one disappointed in Michael’s behavior, “I gotta go knock some sense into him.”

Alex pales and Walt realizes his mistake instantly. He’s never raised a hand to Michael in his life and he sure as hell isn’t about to start, but it’s a sore subject. Especially for someone like Alex. He looks like the kid in the principals office. It breaks Walt’s heart to see him looking like that.

“Shit I didn’t—“

“I know you wouldn’t,” Alex says. Walt nods, “I have to go,” he adds abruptly, “this is my chance, you know? I don’t want to but—“

“I know,” Walt cuts in, “you should take your chance,” he adds, “It doesn’t mean anything about that,” he adds, “you’re both young anyway, you got lives to live and shit to figure out.”

“I don’t need to figure that out,” Alex says.

Walt hates it when he’s proved so epically wrong about something. He’s always tried not to judge Alex but he’s never been the boy’s biggest fan. He remembers his family too well for that. But he’s going to have to make an exception. He hasn’t had this big of an “I told you so” since he put down the bottle all those years ago. Right down to the headache.

“You know he’s doing this so he doesn’t have to say goodbye,” Walt says. Alex nods, “doesn’t mean you have to forgive him right now, he should be here, but in his own way he’s trying to say how much he cares.”

“He’s also saying how hurt he is,” Alex adds. He straightens up more if possible and turns to him, “you know he’s spiraling right? You can stop him can’t you? I tried but—he won’t listen to me.”

Walt doesn’t think there’s anyone on either planet that can make Michael do what he wants but that sure as hell isn’t going to stop him from trying. But Alex’s worrying is another point in his favor, not that he needs more of them. Walt’s got no frame of reference here, is he supposed to approve of the boys Michael brings home? Is that even a thing? He digs into his pocket and pulls out one of those business cards Michael made up to help compensate for his people skills. He scribbles the number on the back and hands it to him.

“I’ll deal with my boy, but if you need anything that’s my cell. Damn social worker said parents needed to have one and I never bothered to shut it off.”

Alex looks stunned but nods, quickly putting the card in his wallet. They both turn to look at the bus that pulls up. Walt wants to tell them to fuck off but he remembers Michael’s drying out in a cell, if he shows up they’ve got bigger problems. Alex gets up. Walt wishes he had something wise to say but he’s never been that kind of guy.

“He’d want you right now,” he says, “but no boy of mine is being with someone who hasn’t graduated college or proved himself in some other impressive way so I’m convinced to approve when he asks in person—so you’d better go make something of yourself and come back here, you hear? It doesn’t count if you die.”

“Yes Mr. Sanders,” he says, “can you tell Michael I said goodbye?”

He nods.

Alex gets on the bus.

He looks for Michael the entire way until it’s a speck in the distance, never once giving up hope.

Walt drives to the police station. If he wasn’t mad before, he’s damn near livid when he forks over bail and is presented with his son. Michael stinks of alcohol and acetone, like he got drunk in a beauty parlor. He stumbles out with a stupid grin that falls the moment he sees it’s not his brother. Max feels guilty still about them being separated, Walt can’t hold that against him. But when Michael gets ugly mad that doesn’t stop him from using it. Walt’s got no such leverage over his head.

“I thought you were Max,” he says.

“Well I was in the neighborhood seeing Alex off, so I guess we’re all having a shit disappointing morning,” he says, “get in.”

Michael clenches his jaw. Walt doesn’t blame him for wanting to say no, but he’s also not doing this. Michael stares him down for a moment, then he wisely gets in the car. Walt slides in too. Michael reeks worse in the closed space. Walt’s never had to wonder how much it takes to get an alien drunk, Michael isn’t that kind of kid. But the answer is apparently ‘a lot’. He looks ahead as Michael slouches in his seat, like he’s on a quest to annoy him as much as possible.

“I want to know what happened.”

“Alex left—“

“Bullshit,” Walt cuts in, “you think I was born yesterday because you managed to hide some boy behind my back for a few months?” Michael looks down, “what happened?”

“I can’t tell you,” Michael says finally.

Apparently Alex isn’t the only one whose trying to look young. It’s like looking at Michael when he first came to him. He was all broken edges then. Now he just seems broken. It’s not something Walt wants to see. He’s never been the best parent but at the moment he feels like a failure. A part of him wants to let Michael have this, but the rest of him refuse. Letting Michael go or have his secrets has never served Michael well.

“You got words don’t you?” Walt says, “or should I call Isobel?” Michael’s jaw clenches, “okay so this involves her. You want to spit it out or should I keep playing 20 questions.”

“I’m not a kid anymore,” Michael says stubbornly.

“Then stop acting like one,” Walt shoots back, “you’re a man. A man takes responsibility for his actions,” Michael’s jaw clenches, “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on—and don’t tell me you don’t want my help. I’m your father. You being an adult isn’t going to change that.”

Michael stares ahead but the stubborn clench of his jaw softens and his straight spine slopes slightly. Michael’s always worn his heart on his sleeve. Walt can see him starting to crack, even if a moment later he’s back to sitting up straight with a clenched jaw. Walt knows he’s not gonna be able to just pry what happened out of Michael. But he can’t exactly let him just take his sweet time if he’s in real trouble. Not after letting him take his sweet time resulted in him being maimed. He figures lightening the mood will maybe get him to let his guard down.

“Come on, it’s not like you murdered someone.”

Michael folds.

The boy doesn’t have much of a poker face when it comes down to it. Not with people he loves. Walt stares at him. He may not have fully succeeded in raising Michael to be an outstanding member of society but he sure as hell thought he got him over the ‘don’t murder’ part of that curve. Walt’s spent the past decade evading the law on one level or another, depending on how you looked at it. But Michael murdering someone is a whole different story.

“Shit,” He says.

“Yeah,” Michael agrees. He glances at Walt out of the corner of his eye, “I guess I should—“

“Just wait a damn minute,” Walt snaps as he reaches for the door, “let me think.”

“You’re not going to turn me in?” Michael asks.

“Just wait,” Walt repeats.

This isn’t something he thought he’d have to weigh. He almost feels sympathetic to Jim Valenti, though nothing Kyle did in their school days comes close to full on murder. Still Jim was stern but he stood by him. Walt didn’t think he was going to have to feel sympathy for what happened there.

“Walk me through what happened,” he says. Michael stares at him, “everything. Every damn detail,” Michael looks at him, “Now, Michael.”

“It was Isobel,” he whispers.

Walt’s glad he’s sitting down because otherwise he’d be on his ass with relief. It’s a horrible thing to feel, someone got murdered and Michael was somehow involved. But finding out your son isn’t a murder is relieving. And makes a lot of sense. Michael would trust him with everything except his siblings. Walt knows that there’s a difference and he’s always done his best to respect that.

“I—“

“Shut up and let me enjoy the fact I don’t have to be sympathetic to Jim Valenti,” he says. Michael raises his eyebrows. But he keeps quiet until Walt straightens up, “now tell me what happened.”

“Isobel killed them,” he says, “she blacked out and she killed them. Max and I made it look like a car crash,” he swallows tightly, “I told her I did it so she wouldn’t feel bad.”

“Shit,” Walt says finally.

“Yeah, shit,” Michael echoes.

“There anything else?”

Michael shakes his head. He’s gone back to looking small and miserable and Walt finds himself torn between hugging him and shaking him. It makes a damn lot of sense why he’s been acting the way he has. Like lying, subtly has never been Michael’s forte. He looks exhausted too but Walt can’t tell if that’s the hangover or the fact that the weight he’s been carrying is less.

“Right,” Walt says, “here’s what we’re gonna do—“
 “Isobel can’t go to jail,” Michael says abruptly, “I have the most control. I can figure it out.”

“No-one is going to jail!” Walt cuts in, “none of you belong there. What’s wrong with your sister is—a problem for another day,” he says. It’s not like Isobel can go to the doctor or anything, “but you sure as hell ain’t going for her.”

Michael doesn’t like that answer, but Walt’s used to Michael needing to protect the people ehe loves no matter what. He’s too hungover and a murder is the biggest thing happening but Walt’s not stupid enough to think that Alex leaving is just going to be brushed aside. It’s too much happening at once, but they have to start somewhere. He puts the car into gear and figures home is a good place to start. He’s not cruel but there’s no way to get there without passing the damn bus stop. Michael peers out the window just like Alex did.

“Bus came about an hour ago,” he says, “but you knew that.”

“Did you see him?” Michael asks quietly.

“Course I saw him,” Walt says, “I wasn’t going to let him ship off standing there alone,” Michael cringes, “you thought his dad was going to see him off?”

“I didn’t deserve to say goodbye,” Michael mutters.

“Alex’d disagree with that,” Walt says, “not that it matters but he earned that goodbye from you,” Michael gives a slight nod, “instead he had to make due with me. I told him he wasn’t getting near you until he went to college or did something impressive,” he says, “since his dad isn’t going to say it, I’ll say the same thing to you.”

“Say what?”

“You aren’t getting within 100 feet of him without going to college,” Walt says.

Michael gives a miserable sort of smile.

“They probably took back my acceptance,” he says, “I got arrested.”

“Then you’re going to reapply,” Walt tells him, “it’ll probably put you and Alex graduating at the same time. If that’s any incentive,” he clears his throat, “in the meantime, you can work in the yard.”

“I already work in the yard,” Michael points out.

“You gonna undo everything I say?” Walt demands.

Michael shakes his head.

Walt feels relief coursing though his veins. He might not drink but he sure as hell is going to need some coffee to get his head back on straight. He’s damn proud of Michael for a lot of things, but mostly he’s relieved it looks like his boy is back. Still Walt’s not about to commend him too much and risk it going away. He claps Michael on the shoulder instead.

“Good,” Walt says, putting the car into park, “I got a car they just brought in that needs some new tires and an apology.”

[emachinescat]

Murdoc + Ithika + Mac

A MacGyver Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 14 - “I didn’t mean it”

Summary: As an artist, Murdoc prides himself in taking his time with his work - he never loses control.  Except one time, with his favorite boy genius.  He always imagined that when he finally made MacGyver cry, it would be his finest moment.  Now, he’s not so sure.

Characters: Murdoc, Mac, Jack

Words: 3,454

TW: torture, broken bones, Murdoc being his creepy little self

Note: Happy Valentine's Day – the store was all out of chocolate, so I got you Mac whump! ;) The allusions to Ithika are from Homer's epic by the same name, but even more so from the incredible poem by C.P. Cavafy. The muse mentioned, Melpomene, is the Muse of Tragedy.

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this!

Ithika gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn't have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

- From “Ithika” by C. P. Cavafy

Murdoc enjoyed taking his time.

He was an artist, after all, and artists didn’t slap together a masterpiece in an afternoon – not the ones worth anything, at least.  Most spent days studying their subjects, becoming intimately familiar with every line and curve and element – the shading, the lighting, the vibrancy of the colors.  The very best didn’t even consider touching brush to canvas until they had developed a personal relationship with their subject – for how can a true artist paint that which he does not know deeply?  Why bother recreating that landscape or tea kettle or sad-eyed little girl or bowl of fruit if it could be any landscape, tea kettle, little girl, or bowl of fruit?  Why would someone paint something that wasn’t theirs?

Murdoc knew his subject very well.  He, like a true artist, had studied it in a variety of settings.  He’d watched and learned, dug deep into the core of its being, drawn out every secret and motivation and loss and love.  He understood what made his subject tick.  He’d even done some brief sketches, practicing each brushstroke with care, waiting patiently for the day he could at last, intricately, evoke that muse sought by the Romantics, that evasive Melpomene, and breathe his masterpiece to life.  Or, more accurately, to death.

And now, after years of watching, interacting, teasing, sketching, his time had finally come.  Months of planning had been sunk into this particular endeavor.  And now, unlike the first time he’d been introduced to his subject, he hadn’t been commissioned by anyone.  This portrait was personal, deeply personal.  He finally had his subject right where he wanted it.  The canvas was bare and waiting for the artist’s touch.  Murdoc had chosen his palette, mixed the colors – it might be cliche, but he was a sucker for red, black, and blue.

Now that his moment had finally arrived, however, it didn’t mean that he could rush through the actual creation process.  The act of studying one’s subject matter was slow and deliberate.  So must be the painting.  

***

Murdoc studied his canvas slowly, methodically, unsurprised that it wasn’t exactly blank.  MacGyver stood, hands chained above his head, attached to a grate above.  His bare toes just reached the cold concrete below.  His jacket and Henley had been removed – he shivered slightly from the chill of the basement.  Murdoc liked to think it was from fear.  

“Oooh, this one’s fun, MacGyver!” Murdoc crooned as the blonde boy wonder eyed him scornfully.  It was quite entertaining how expressive his prey’s pretty blue eyes could be.  Murdoc briefly brushed the tip of his little finger against the scar of a bullet wound on MacGyver’s chest.  MacGyver jerked back from the touch, though his expression remained stoic.

“Jealous that you weren’t the one who did it, Murdoc?”  He sounded confident enough, but Murdoc knew his subject quite well by now.  MacGyver was shaken.  For once, he had no control, nothing to work with, no way to escape.  He was at his captor’s mercy – Murdoc could do whatever he wanted, and MacGyver knew that.

“Oh, it’s nothing compared with what I’ve got planned for you, Angus,” Murdoc simpered sweetly, circling his catch of the day, dark eyes darting across more scars and recent cuts and bruises.  He pressed directly into the dark center of a boot-tip bruise on MacGyver’s side, relishing the sharp intake of breath it elicited.  “Someone on your last mission in Volgograd left their mark, I see.”

He circled back around to face his victim, who did a subpar job of hiding his surprise at the observation.  “That was highly classified.  How did you–”

“I’ve been watching you for a very long time, MacGyver.  But you had to have known I would.  After all, you’re my closest friend, and I know where you live.  It’s kind of silly that you never moved, but maybe you just figured I’d find you even if you did.  I wonder – have you always tossed and turned in your sleep or is that a more recent development?”

True horror flashed momentarily in blue eyes, tugging Murdoc’s lips up into a satisfied smile.  “Oh, yes, your nightmares are very entertaining.  I do hope the majority of them are about me.  Oh, oh, oh!  And I especially love it when they’re so bad you have to call your watch dog to calm you down.  I wonder how Dalton’s taking your disappearance, by the way?  I’m sure he’s in for some nightmares of his own.”

“He’ll find me, if I don’t escape first.”  MacGyver’s bravado was both highly endearing and incredibly tiresome.  Same old, same old.

“Doubtful,” Murdoc purred.  “I mean, I know you well enough not to make stupid mistakes, my friend.”

“I escaped from the sewers, and you’d drugged me.��

“I intended for you to escape that day.  I needed to draw your friends in, to focus their attention on finding you while I attended to other business.  But this time – you’re mine.”  At the fervor in his words, a shudder entirely unrelated to cold clinked the chains restraining his victim.  Murdoc smiled, then continued.

“But now, there is no ulterior motive.  I grabbed you for no other reason than because I wanted to.  You are hidden away quite well, even more securely than last time, I’m afraid.  And you will not be left alone, not even for a second.  There may be things in this room you could use to escape, but they’re useless to you in your position.  And I am not going to take my eyes off of you.  You won’t have a chance to wriggle your way out of this one, MacGyver.  Ooooh, is that fear I see on your face?  No?  We really must change that.”  He tutted.  “Defiance and bravado really are your bread and butter, aren’t they, Angus?  What are you, an action hero from a cheesy 1980s TV show?”  Silence, though the fiery glare spoke more loudly than words.  

Murdoc clapped his hands together.  “Well, there’s no time like the present.  What do you say, MacGyver?  Let’s get started.”

***

Three hours later, Murdoc admired his work.  It was a slow process.  He painted with precision and care, layering the colors just so, balancing the strokes, the lights and darks and brights.  His brushes were many – laid out on the table before him were knives and pliers and blow torches and hammers and whips and cattle prods and other more specialized tools that he liked to work up to.  He also had an oversized meat tenderizer, made of steel.  He rarely used it – too garish for his refined tastes – but it did look nice and scary looming over the other instruments.

So far, he’d only used his knives and the cattle prod.  The masterpiece was starting to come together, but it was hardly complete.  He prowled around his artwork.  MacGyver’s trembling had increased.  He gasped for breath as Murdoc appraised his work – burns and cuts, some deeper than others – made a nice foundation.  The drip of blood across bare flesh outshone any Pollock painting.  He’d practiced his blending techniques, jabbing the cattle prod directly into the center of the lovely bruise he’d noticed earlier.  MacGyver hadn’t been able to hold in his yell of pain.  

Music.

“Are you enjoying our time together?” Murdoc asked.

MacGyver uttered a creative string of curse words that made Murdoc proud.  He whistled appreciatively.  “Who knew the boy scout had that in him?  I’m almost impressed.”

“Yeah, well,” MacGyver said, hissing as he shifted and pulled at his many wounds.  “Almost is about all you’ll ever be, Murdoc.”

Murdoc had been reaching for his trusty pair of pliers (those toenails could sure use a trim!).  He paused, his back partially to his captive, fingers hovering over the tool.  He was used to MacGyver’s sass, but what he’d just said hit a sour note that the hit man couldn’t shake.  He didn’t know if it was the tone or the words themselves.  “Excuse me?”  He tried to sound amused, but his voice was tight, as if it had been squeezed out of him.

A clink of the chains, a grunt of pain that didn’t lighten Murdoc’s mood as it should have.  Then, MacGyver elaborated.  His voice was clipped in pain, breathless, but conviction lined every syllable.  “You are doomed to live a life of almost, Murdoc.  Nothing is ever going to be enough for you.  Why do you think you take so long to get anything done?  Why do you spend so much time talking and taunting and watching and waiting?”

Murdoc didn’t move, his hand still inches away from his delicate instrument that caused pain but did no lasting damage.  “I’m an artist.”

“You’re afraid.” 

“I fear nothing.”

“You fear winning.”

Murdoc laughed, a forced, uncomfortable sound that he’d never heard come from his own mouth.  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, Angus.  Are you sure the pain isn’t getting to your head?”

MacGyver pressed on relentlessly.  “You crave attention.  You need a challenge.  That’s why you picked me.  And you’re afraid of what happens if you beat me.  If I die, there’s always that possibility that you won’t find another playmate.”

Still, Murdoc didn’t move.  His words, despite their teasing jaunt, had a forced quality to them.  “Awfully full of ourselves, aren’t we, MacGyver?”

He could hear the triumphant smile in his adversary’s voice.  “I’m just stating the truth, Murdoc.  You might torture me, you might have your fun.  But at the end of the day, you’re going to slip up somehow.  It’s your way of making sure the game goes on.  Without that challenge, what are you?  Just an angry voice screaming at the sky, no purpose, no point.  You say you’ve studied me, Murdoc.  You’ve watched me and know me.  Well, in doing so, you’ve shown me yourself, too.  You’re not going to kill me today.  You’re never going to kill me.  

“I don’t know what exactly I’ve done to deserve this… honor,” he continued, placing particular derision on the last word, “but you’ve become obsessed with me, Murdoc.  Believe me, I don’t like saying this any more than you like hearing it.  But it’s how I know I’m going to walk away from this.  If I’m gone, so is your fun.”

Murdoc prided himself on maintaining control over his emotions.  An artist, though he might express the inner workings of his soul on canvas, could not let his feelings control the brush, control him.  Look what had happened to Van Gogh – sure, beautiful work, but his emotions controlled him, destroyed him in the end.  Murdoc didn’t make mistakes like that.  He waited.  He didn’t lash out in anger.  It wasn’t because he wanted MacGyver to live, oh no.  His fondest dream was to see the blonde boy cry, to watch him squirm and beg for mercy, and then, finally, only when he’d really begged for it, to send him to his death.  MacGyver had no idea what he was talking about.  

It wasn’t even MacGyver’s words, his cocky belief that he was important enough to his torturer to keep alive, that sent Murdoc over the edge.  It was the tiny little voice, way back in the darkest, most depraved corner of his already dark and depraved mind, the one that spoke not in the voice of Murdoc, but one that sounded more like Dennis, the first casualty of Murdoc’s career – himself.  The voice said, plainly, without emotion, You know he’s right.

And that was the catalyst for the tsunami of rage that crashed into Murdoc, pummeling his well-practiced and unshakable resolve to take his time.  That was what spurred his frozen body into movement, curled his fingers around the handle of the meat tenderizer, that brash, archaic tool, rather than the pliers.  That was what spit his next words out of his mouth as if they were poison, words that finally – beautifully – caused Angus MacGyver’s eyes to widen in real fear: “You are going to walk out of here?”  A sadistic, mad giggle.  “My dear Angus, it will be a miracle if you ever walk again.”  

He hefted the heavy steel implement in his hand, pulled back, and lunged.  MacGyver tried to back away, the chains around his wrists cackling and clicking against one another in his desperation.  They held firm, and the meat tenderizer slammed full force into MacGyver’s left kneecap.  Murdoc felt the crunch of bones.  He heard the bestial howl, the scream of anguish, the body-jerking, breath stealing cry of a man in so much pain he lost himself.  He watched MacGyver’s face drain of color, recognized the moment when the pain became too much, and saw the tear-streaked face go slack, the chin thud against the battered chest and stay there. 

For a moment, Murdoc experienced the euphoria one could only find in hurting that special someone in such a catastrophic way.  He relished in that moment the scream, the agony, the writhing and loss of control.

Then the moment ended – and far too soon.

Immediately after, the weapon dropped out of Murdoc’s limp fingers.  It smashed into the floor below, with the jarring clang that only metal on concrete can produce.  He looked at the limp, hanging form before him, and something twisted inside of him – a feeling he’d never known.  It wasn’t guilt, nor revulsion.

It was, however, regret.

He didn’t understand it.  He should be overjoyed.  MacGyver was completely at his mercy.  Murdoc could kill him now.  Carve that bleeding heart out like a villain in a fairy tale would.  But then, he realized, MacGyver would be gone.  Forever.  Even now, his kneecap had been crushed, shattered into tiny fragments of bone and cartilage, and unless he got treatment of the highest quality, and soon, he’d almost certainly be crippled.  Even if he had extensive reconstructive surgery, his career as a Phoenix agent could still be over.

Wasn’t that what Murdoc had wanted?  To end MacGyver’s pesky existence, to win at this game of cat and mouse?  To create his most spectacular masterpiece with his greatest enemy?  That’s what he had dreamed of for years now, what he’d studied and practiced and yearned for.  And yet – 

What was it that hoity toity Greek poet had written?  Murdoc had read “Ithika” long ago, a random page in a poetry book of a man he’d killed.  For some reason, the poem had attached itself to his mind and never let go.  He could remember it even now:  

Keep Ithika always in your mind. Arriving there is what you’re destined for.  But don’t hurry the journey at all.  Better if it lasts for years, so you’re old by the time you reach the island, wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way, not expecting Ithika to make you rich.  Ithika gave you the marvelous journey.  Without her you wouldn’t have set out.  She has nothing to give you now.

And he understood.  The poem was supposed to be inspirational, for fools so focused on their goals that they missed the journey of life along the way – a mundane, silly sentiment.  But now Murdoc could see – MacGyver’s destruction was his Ithika.  Perhaps Cavafy had a point – maybe he had been a bit of an artist himself.  And MacGyver had been right about some things, wrong about others.

He was right in that Murdoc wasn’t ready to end the game just yet.  But it wasn't fear that held him back, that urged him to take his time.  It was joy.  Joy of the journey.  The little pleasures of life that are so often passed by in the grand scheme of things – the poet had been speaking of knowledge, of friendship, of love, of experiences.  Murdoc’s little pleasures were things like fear, drawn-out suffering, playing with his food and watching it squirm.  He relished that joy.  He wanted more of it, and if MacGyver died, or was out of commission as a spy, that joy would diminish.  Even if MacGyver lived, it wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t fight back, couldn’t play along.

Murdoc made his decision.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a burner phone.  He dialed a number he’d memorized long ago, put the phone to his ear.

A fierce Texas twang answered before the first ring had run its course.  “Murdoc, you son of a bitch–”

“Temper, Jack,” Murdoc drawled.  He shivered in excitement at the mental picture of the inferno in Dalton’s eyes.  “You just assumed it was me – imagine if it were your mother on the other line.”

“I can scent the devil from a mile away.”  Murdoc heard muffled voices in the background, knew the call was being traced.  

“Don’t waste your time running a trace, you grumpy old hound dog.”  His words were light, yet he allowed the slightest hint of urgency to infect them.  “I’ve had my fun for today.  I’ll text you the address.”  He paused.  “Oh, and bring one of those fancy whirly-birds you like to use for medical emergencies.  I might have been a little… over zealous this time.”

He closed his eyes, gorging on the incalculable levels of hatred in Jack Dalton’s next words.  “If you hurt him–”

Appreciation turned to irritation.  Murdoc rolled his coal eyes to the ceiling.  “Weren’t you listening, you brute?  Obviously, I hurt him.  Quite a bit actually.  You should have heard him scream.”

A short silence.  Then – “You didn’t let me finish, you overgrown sewer rat.  If you hurt him, I am going to tear you limb from limb.  I don’t need any of your fancy tools.”

“Hmm, that was almost intimidating,” Murdoc teased in his most good-natured tone.  “But you’ll have to find me first.”  He let the words linger for just a moment, then continued: “Anyway, ta-ta for now.  I’ll text you the address.  I’ll be long gone by the time you get here, but feel free to bring all your little friends for a game of hide and seek.  Though I have a feeling that you’re going to be more focused on sweet Angus.”

He hung up, texted the address, then turned to a feebly stirring MacGyver.  Pity he was waking up right as Murdoc had to leave.  Whimpers that would have torn the very soul out of Jack Dalton erupted unbidden from MacGyver’s lips.  Glazed blue eyes cracked open, regarding Murdoc with a mixture of terror and acceptance.  Though he had regained consciousness, MacGyver still hung limply from the chains, too weak and in pain to move.

Murdoc stepped forward, eliciting the tiniest of flinches  Even that motion made MacGyver cry out.  But Murdoc didn’t hurt him again.  Instead, he said, “Your friends are on their way.”

MacGyver’s voice rasped in the aftermath of his screams.  “You’re letting … me go… Why?”  

“Got bored, I suppose.”  No way was Murdoc going to let MacGyver know he’d been right, even if only a little bit.

MacGyver didn’t respond – maybe he didn’t know how to respond; more likely, he could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words, amidst the torrent of pain.

Murdoc started to step away, then turned back, studying his latest draft of the elusive masterpiece that he would continue to dream about and that would fuel his passion and creativity for years to come.  He pulled off one black glove, placed his hand on a pale, cold cheek.  MacGyver jerked back feebly from the touch, grunting at the pain it produced.  Slowly, Murdoc wiped one of the fresher tears away with his thumb.  It might have been a power play.  It might have been a show of comfort.  Even the hit man didn’t know.  He glanced down at the shattered knee, swollen and misshapen, a grotesque monster straining to break free from the unrelenting fabric of the khakis.

“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, moving his gaze up from the deformed knee to lock his black eyes with fearful, anguished blue ones, “I didn’t mean it.”

He walked away, casting one final look over his shoulder before he left his art behind for the coming Phoenix agents to admire.  “Until next time, MacGyver.”

And despite the extensive search conducted by Phoenix once MacGyver had been loaded onto the chopper, on his way to the best orthopaedic surgeons in the country, Murdoc had once more disappeared, like a ghost.

That night he dreamed about his Ithika, and this time, it was enough. 

[nomoregoldfish]

Imagine catching Amado building secret airport in the jungle; Enemies to friends /w benefits (2/2)

This one goes out of my hands. I don’t even know what kind of monster it is now, smh. The formatting seems screwed up. Please read it on AO3 if you want. Again, if tubmlr flag the gif below, I’LL RIOT.

"Is this a date? What's the dress code? Cargo pants don't count." Amado sounds flirty when you call him the other day. It's not really his fault because you are the one who asks him out.

Since the formidable drug trafficker hasn't sent any sicario to make you disappear, you figure you still have chances to make him reconsider the plan of building an airport. You're willing to do whatever it takes to save the jungle and the ruins.

Plus seeing Amado again is not a bad idea.

You can't justify why you ignore your go-to outfit including cargo pants. Instead, you put on your tightest jeans.

You pick up Amado at four in the morning. The tall man looks sleepy and slightly confused, which is kinda cute. You offer him black coffee in your vacuum bottle. 

After the first sip, Amado turns to you with his misty down-turned eyes, "No cargo pants today?" You try not to smile, "Shut up."

You're taking him to the Palenque ruins, another Mayan site in Chiapas, just few hours drive away.

You manage to get there before the sunrise. The site hasn't opened yet but you know a secret route because you also worked on the excavation project there. 

"You have a thing for sneaking in, uh, Ms. Geologist?" You shouldn't encourage him but whatever, the banter is... fun. 

Walking with Amado in the dense mountain forest actually is a perfect date in your dictionary. Your shoes are wet with morning dew but nobody cares. Listen to birds chirping and fogs croaking in the dim light. 

"You're really not afraid of darkness, are you?" Amado sounds genuinely curious. "Why would I be? I worked on this site for years, I've known the whole place by heart." He nods, like some acknowledgement.

It's almost dawn, you look at the tinted horizon when you reach the top of the mountain. The entire ancient city of Palenque is quiet and peaceful wrapped in the jungle, reminds you why you chose what you do with your life.

"I want to show you something." It's the Temple of the Inscriptions, one of the most iconic Mayan architecture lightened up by the morning sun. Starting from the history, you explain to Amado not only the symbolic significance of the temple and the secret tomb inside, but also the epic war Emperor Pakal waged against Yaxchilán. 

Amado doesn't stop you. You keep talking, sharing your involvement in those excavation projects with him, how excited you are when a new site is discovered, how proud you felt for your team when Palenque was recognized as World Heritage Site not long ago, which meant more funds, more human resources, and better equipment for all scientists working on it for years. You want to continue to study the whole area, even several rival/ally sites in Guatemala and Belize, to find more satellite cities, battlefields, to be able to define the border of those ancient powerhouses and finally draw a map of the mysterious kingdom.

He looks at you like you're some kind of heroine. It's heartwarming but you're not sure, "So, what do you think?"

Amado's playing coy, but you're persistent. "Come on. I'm a geologist. I can't hire assassins. What else am I supposed to do to make you change your mind? Put on my most expensive dress, show off my ass, wine and dine you?"

"Though I'd love to see you in a nice dress, jeans are great, too." The northern banditote smirks, eyeing your lower body, "Plus the whole speech, I told you I love it when you talk about your job. You seem to know exactly what you're doing."

Amado doesn't promise anything. He says he'll figure something out.

You exhale deeply. At least the guy listened, you appreciate it. 

Then you find out there's nothing left in your vacuum bottle, the fucker drank all your coffee, "How am I supposed to drive back without any coffee in my system?"

Amado pulls you in for a kiss, warm and tastes much better than your shitty coffee. The fresh stubble overnight of his stings and it feels so good, you can't help cupping his face and kissing back. 

Then he announces he'd drive if you just say "El Señor de los Cielos, please." You tell him to fuck off but toss the car key to him anyway.

You haven't contacted each other after that for a while. You tell yourself it's nothing. It's not like you two have had something. 

You send people every week to monitor the construction of the airport from a hidden spot on the mountain. Meanwhile you complete the scan of the area surrounding the soon-to-be airport and find a possible target. You have to be on the ground again to confirm it. 

Unluckily you break your ankle one day in the jungle. And you don't want to put any colleague's life at risk to get near the cartel's territory. You decide to wait on Amado, you believe he's a man of his words. 

Amado surprises you one night at your camp. He jokes that a geologist can sneak into a drug cartel's property, it'd be humiliating if he doesn't return the favor. His face and neck are perfectly tanned, you want to immerse yourself in that hot chocolate. You almost jump out of excitement because you haven't seen Amado for a month. Then you remember you're confined to your desk and seat due to the injury. 

"You're expecting someone else? Ms. Geologist." Amado sounds a bit down. "I..." You want to ask him so many things. Has he figured it out? Who is in charge of the airport when he's away? And where has he been? Why does it take him so long to come back? Maybe minus the last question. It'd sound desperate. 

He says he flies from Juaréz, "One of the longest domestic flights," he claims as looking around your tent office, sketches and maps scattered all the place. When his eyes meet yours again, it's so gentle, full of fondness.

"You only want to talk about business?" He's getting close, "I just fly almost 2,000 miles and you're not even standing up. Look who's more cold-blooded than drug traffickers."

Before you realize what happens, Amado lowers his body and carries you off the chair. He doesn't touch your ankle but it still hurts when you're suddenly moved.

Amado finds out. The man in black examines your injury carefully. You never saw him so concerned before. He quickly comes to the conclusion that your injury is worse than it looks and needs better treatment. 

No, you're not gonna leave your job. You have papers to write, new budget to apply, more areas to explore. Slowly it'd recover.

"Don't you want to wade across rivers, trek through jungles, and climb mountains again? If you love your job so much, you have to get better treatment, immediately! And take some good rest. Give it a few more weeks? Oh God, you're insane." He's so mad at you.

You finally agree, and Amado insists on carrying you again to his vehicle. You know it's not your priority right now but holy fuck, he's fucking built. And you're inches away from his big nose which you've had a crush on for a while.

He's gonna fly you to the state capital Tuxtla Gutiérrez.

"You don't fly 2,000 miles just to see me, do you?" You poke him during the flight, sitting next to the sexy pilot in the cockpit is a treat. 

"Dear Ms. Geologist, remember I have a job, too?"

The pain is getting worse, Amado notices it then hands you a joint from nowhere. You're about ask whether it's legal to have weed on the plane, then you realize you're with a real drug dealer. "Not to bad to have a narcos friend, huh?" OK, you gives him that as the weed kicks in. 

"So now we're friends?" You're obviously high, and bold. Because you find your hand dangerously near his groin for no reason, fumbling. "I always wanted to touch it." You giggle. 

Amado politely removes your hand and tells you to behave.

"You know what? You could've been the most popular guy at our camp. Someone might trade blowjobs for your weed since we're just low-paid scientists and assistants." You're high like a kite.

You also "threaten" if Amado extends any further in the jungle to build more airport facilities when you're put away, you swear to God you'll...

"You'll what? Shut up and rest, cabrón. Or I'll take you directly to DF, better physicians there anyway."

And the fucker did, a day after a Chiapas physician suggests you seek the best orthopedic treatment in DF for speedy recovery.

Then Amado disappears again. You know he's probably running a drug cartel in the north, and only checking in on their hidden project near the southern border once a month or two. It's the way it is. Your lives only collide when it's meant to be. There's no fucking way you two see each other like normal people do. 

You still miss Amado, miss the banter, even his northern accent. 

During the two-month therapy in DF, you receive reports that the airport is completed, and the potential target site nearby is now a giant warehouse. You also learn a big donation is made specifically to the Yaxchilán excavation project, of course, anonymously.

That's what Amado meant by "figuring something out." You're not even mad. What's the alternate outcome when you're up against the narcos? Report it? The entire cabinet is probably in their pocket. You should be relieved that no one ends up dead during the little stupid game you played.

You can't even return the drug money because, a) you can't tell anyone where it's from; b) INAH's been underfunded for decades, the project fucking needs it, so do your colleagues.

You call that number again after you get back to the ground. You don't know how to end this, or is there anything to end? 

"Come over next weekend, I'll be there and I can explain." Amado sounds poised and calm, like he always does.

You tell yourself to keep it civil. This is a losing battle since day one.

Amado meets you in front of a warehouse, he looks great, all charming smile and open arms. All you can think of is the location of the warehouse, it must be the one. Most likely it's being buried.

"You bring flowers, how nice." It's the white birds of paradise, which suits him, El Señor de los Cielos. You tell him you're grateful for the injury advice he insisted.

"Can I show you something?" Amado opens the door of the warehouse. It all feels like yesterday, when you showed him the sunrise at Palenque, talking about your future plan. How naive were you.

Some jaw-dropping scene in front of you. The entire site of ruins, intact, locked inside the warehouse with minimal structure to shield from the rain and sunshine.

"What? You thought I'm gonna show you cocaine? No offense, baby, you can't afford the Colombian white magic. This is all you get, some fucking broken rocks with barely recognizable inscriptions." The bastard shrugs.

How did he find this site? "Sorry. Let's say I accidentally took a copy of your scan map last time at your camp, when you were busy with your ankle problem." You fucking knew it, it's never what it looked like when it comes to Amado Carrillo Fuentes.

Yet you can't believe what you just see. It is NOT real. It can't be.

That's when harsh reality kicks in. It always starts with a but. "You can't work on it, not now." Amado explains the situation and his plan for your ruins, which he thinks it's better to keep them under the radar for now. No tomb raider would dare to approach it, you can work on many other sites first.

"Then what?" You keep digging. Amado sighs, giving you a melancholy smile, "This line of work doesn't tend to last very long. It will be yours one day. Before that, it's completely safe. You have my word." 

Amado's kind of.... correct, and practical to be honest. INAH doesn't have enough resources for thousands of projects. Even with the hard work you and your colleagues pulled, it's estimated less than 10% of the total area of Palenque was explored and partially restored.

You carefully examine the site, making notes and sketches to create a hasty profile.

Amado focuses on something else, "It seems you walk just fine. Fully recovered, no rush? Good. And has your budget been approved? Got more money? I mean, the efficiency of any bureaucratic system is questionable in this country. If it still falls short, I can...." 

You can't tell if he's been an asshole or a saint, God forbid.

"For fuck's sake, I don't want your fucking money. I just, I want...." You turn around, look defeated, "Your dick, OK? Who cares about your dirty drug money? You Sinaloan monkey!"

Amado bursts into laughter, "Why don't you take both, dear Ms. Geologist?" He put your hand below his belt buckle, "I think you made it very clear last time."

"It's your fucking nose, narizón." You gently caress it, and he's getting hard beneath the fabric and it's fucking huge.

You're on your knees, trying to take Amado's full length in. Fuck, it's difficult. You're embarrassed and he's like "Shhh, it's okay, baby."

Instead, Amado's going down on you, making your knees weak af. You have to grab the stones to stand still. 

Amado eating your out with patience, salt and pepper stubble rubbing against the most sensitive part of your body which gives you more trouble, and fingering you at the same fucking time. Let that sink in for a moment.

You don't stand a chance, you come so hard.

Amado's taking you from behind, big hands on your hips to keep you still against the ancient structure. Rock into you with deep, short thrusts. You're wet for him like rivers during monsoon season. 

Your legs are shaking when he hits right at the spot again. "Wanna to make a good girl like you squirm and scream." Fuck, Amado always gets what he desires as he pulls you hair up, leaving hickeys on your neck while he fucks you thoroughly.

The best orgasm through your whole life. And the fucker is proud of it, "Told you. You'd better take both, baby. The green and the big D."

Does it mean you really gonna take money from narcos? This is so fucked up. 

Later Amado fixes you some nice margarita, casually asking if you want to join him for a business trip to Belize the next day. "I have to buy some stuff in Belmopan. Maybe we can stop by Lamanai with my private jet after that if you'd like."

How the fuck does he know you wanted to visit the Mayan ruins in a remote foreign town for years? 

The concern becomes less shocking when you see Amado buy a bunch of Boeing 727s in Belmopan like a Sunday grocery run.