#walked into a public execution in solitude

[rhysnolastname]

when i accidentally walk into some shit in skyrim and i was not prepared

[vyuntspakhkite-l-darling]

Prologue

I wanted to put the prologue of my book (as it is right now) out, so anyone who's interested can give questions/thoughts/feedback :3 Read the tags for content warnings before reading.

Basked in the orange light of the setting sun, Arsioly stood, attentive, and witnessed his third execution.

Most people didn’t see that many in their lives, much less when they were barely pushing eighteen, but it was different for Arsioly. His father was the one who carried them out, and his attendance was expected. At least this one was a little more interesting than the others; it was a public execution, done in the dusky light of the snowy city square with a small crowd watching, as opposed to the secluded nature of the other ones. He supposed that serial insubordination and homosexuality were lesser crimes that didn’t require such a spectacle as this.

The rough voice of Colonel Rasily, his father, echoed out over the small crowd, drowning out the pained huffs and curses of the young rebel who kneeled, bound and beaten, at his feet.

“It is Emperor Vahesy’s divine right to rule over these lands, and all those who oppose him will be punished!” He shouted, sending the ball of his foot into the rebel’s face; drops of blood from her nose glittered briefly in the air before splattering to the ground. Arsioly silently marveled at her ability not to cry out, ignoring the frightened whimper from Visralion beside him, the tightening of the boy’s grip on his arm.

The hits kept coming, and Arsioly watched with fear and pride, paying close attention to his father’s actions, as he always did. The way each strike hit easily despite the girl’s struggles; the way he remained unfazed by the curses she spat at him; the way he didn’t flinch at the freckles of blood dusted onto the pale fabric of his pants. His movements were confident and bold as one hand grabbed a fistful of hair and wrenched the woman’s head backward, and the other drew the shining dagger from its place at his side. He brandished it for the crowd as he cried, “Let this be an example to all of you! For the glory of the Emperor!”

With that, he brought the blade down across the rebel girl’s throat, slicking the snow with a hungry pool of crimson. He wiped his dagger on the shoulder of her shirt before replacing it in its sheath. He released hair he’d grabbed; the rebel thumped lamely to the ground. Once the blood stopped bubbling and gurgling in the body’s mouth, he motioned to the two soldiers standing at attention behind him to clean it up. Arsioly looked on, thumbing the folded paper in his pocket and avoiding his father’s eyes. 

“Arsi, can we leave now? Please?” Visralion asked in a hushed tone, his face hidden against his friend’s sleeve.

He looked down at him, back up at the Colonel, then at Visralion again. He gave him a thin smile and ruffled his curly brown hair. “Yeah, let’s go,” he agreed, turning and walking away with his friend.

The boys made their way through the city streets, taking some of the smaller ones to avoid the other kids who were undoubtedly outside and taking advantage of the weekend. They walked towards the edge of the city out of habit, towards the woods where they often went to enjoy the relative solitude.

Once they’d passed the last building and the flat, grassy strip that separated the city from the forest, Arsioly glanced around to check that he and Visralion were the only ones present before pulling the folded poster from his pocket. 

“Take a look at this, dove,” he said, cautiously unfolding it. He’d lost track of how many months he’d been carrying this around, and he’d rubbed at it so much that the paper seemed likely to tear if handled too roughly.

He opened the paper, revealing a boldly drawn illustration of a soldier with a gun. The uniform depicted didn’t align with the ones that the boys saw patrolling the streets every day. Even more damning than that was the big text written across the top, declaring, ‘Save your homes, join the Freedom Army!’

Visralion gasped, stopping in his tracks and taking a hasty step away. “Arsioly, why do you have that? Are you crazy?”

He laughed and shook his head, grinning. “Oh, calm down, it’s fine. Look— look what it says down here,” he said, holding the poster out to Visralion and pointing to the smaller words along the bottom. “It says that there’s free meals and shelter for anyone who joins.”

“So what? Our Army has that too!” He protested, backing up to a nearby tree, as if the paper held some disease he might catch if he got too close. 

He folded the poster and put it back in his pocket. “But our Army won’t let you or your mom join.”

“That’s fine! We don’t even need that, we’re doing just fine by ourselves…” Visralion trailed off, and Arsioly scoffed, knowing that wasn’t even near to the truth. “Whatever. We still can’t join the rebels. We’ll be killed, like that girl—”

“No, we won’t. Trust me, dove, I’ve been planning this since forever. And think of how great it’ll be! We’ll run away and join the rebels, and we won’t have to worry about money or rules or anything.”

Visralion hesitated, and Arsioly took that as a sign to keep pushing. “And they’re fighting for our freedom, it’s even in the name! Come on, we have to do this.”

“But—”

“But, but, but. I’ll go no matter what. I’m only saying that you should come with me,” he bluffed, even though he was quite sure that he couldn’t bear to leave if his only real friend wasn’t going to be with him. 

Visralion looked down and didn’t respond right away, picking at the frayed ends of his scarf. “Do you promise you know what you’re doing? I’ll only go if you promise.”

Arsioly nodded. “I promise, I know what I’m doing.”

“Okay,” he sighed, walking away from the tree and back up to Arsioly. 

“Good,” he smiled. “We can leave tonight, just pack a little bag with anything you really want to keep. I’ll come and get you when it’s really late so nobody sees us leave. Don’t tell your mom what we’re doing.”

Visralion opened his mouth to argue, but closed it without a word and just nodded instead. 

“Alright…” he agreed after a few moments. “Are you really sure about this?”

“I’m completely certain.”

[glitchbitchwritingblog]

‘Finally,after months and months at sea,I have finally arrived in Skyrim’ Eleanor thought as she finally set foot on the Solitude Docks. Sailors,immigrants,Soldiers,dock workers and merchants all traversed the docks,some pushing past each other to get to their next destination,Mothers hushed crying babes,and Fathers carried heavy luggage. The Docks were a hub of activity.

Picking up her small Satchel,Eleanor made her way to the City,her fine green dress and fur cloak hugging her body awkwardly. The trip was hard on her and she had lost alot of weight due to it. She didn't care too much though,as she had come to Skyrim to escape,to start a life of her own,free from the demons of her past. 

“You're just in time to say hello to Roggvir”The Gate Guard said snidely. Choosing to ignore him Eleanor enters the city,only to be greeted to the site of an ongoing public execution. 

The sight made her heart leap to her throat.

“They can't hurt Uncle Roggvir,tell them he didn't do it!”A little girl,no older than eight cried out to what Eleanor assumed was the girl's father. The man told her to run home and not look back,anguish in his voice.

Jeers came from the crowd,one woman demanding for the headsman to 'Get on with it’. 

Not being able to bare the site,Eleanor rushed into the nearby inn.Closing the thick door behind her,the soft melody of a lute and The thick scent of ale and cooking meat filled her senses,giving an escape to the scene outside.

Eleanor walked to the Innkeeper and paid for a room and some water,before the kind man lead her to her room. “Let me know if you need anything ma'am.”he said before leaving. She simply smiled in acknowledgement,and shut the door behind him.

Sitting down on the chair in the room,she pulled out her Diary and began to write.

'Arrived to Solitude this day. Entering the city I saw an execution under way. The poor soul's Neice cried out for him,much as I did for Father all those years ago. I pray this is no bad omen’

After writing in her Diary,she got up and went to get a bath and eat,keeping her head down and staying quiet so as not to draw unwanted attention. Once cleaned and fed she read in the bar area,though in all actuality she was listening to those around her,picking up bits of information and rumors. 

[nocturnalswarehouse]

Chapter 13 - The Argonian

Fic Series: At Long Last

Pairing: Brynjolf x Female Dovahkiin|Dragonborn (Adranelle Rolaine)

Premise: Eight years after being declared the Dragonborn, and three years after Alduin is defeated, Adranelle (Adi) Rolaine finds herself back in Riften to help Brynjolf with the Thieves Guild’s reputation.

Masterlist

Taglist: @thequeenofthewinter, @oblivions-dawn

Word count: 1,434

A/N: The chapter is longer this week to make up for the last one! Hope you enjoy it, and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

"I can't believe Gulum-Ei's mixed up in all this; that Argonian couldn't find his tail with both hands.” Brynjolf and Adi were only half an hour away from Solitude, having paid the carriage to take them to Dragon Bridge. Brynjolf wanted to discuss the game plan for the job and didn’t want to risk interference, despite that carriage driver having heard a lot worse after working in Riften. “Don't get me wrong, he could scam a beggar out of his last septim... but he's no mastermind."

“Think he'll give us trouble?” Adi practically jogged next to him, trying to keep up with Brynjolf’s long strides. Being half his height meant shorter legs and more effort needed to keep up the pace. 

“Trouble? He's one of the most stubborn lizards I've ever met!”

“So, how do we get him to talk?”

“We’re going to have to buy him off; it's the only way to get his attention,” he said. “If that fails, follow him and see what he's up to. If I know Gulum-Ei, he's in way over his head, and we’ll be able to use it as leverage.”

“He's going to owe us for this betrayal.” Adi’s eyes darkened, not unnoticed by Brynjolf. 

“Aye, he does indeed... and with his fingers in the East Empire Company's pie, we'll make good use of that debt.” he agreed, then hesitated before continuing. “If I'm not being clear enough, that means we don't want him killed. For now, just keep on his tail, and he's bound to step into something he can't scrape off his boot.”

“If we get information from Gulum-Ei, what then?”

“Just head right back to the Guild and get the information to Mercer. Nothing else is more important. If you discover Gulum-Ei's holding out on us and has more loot stashed away than he claims, we'd find that information quite valuable as well.”

They walked in silence while Adi mulled over his words. This was the most ambitious job yet, and she was grateful to have Brynjolf with her. Without him, she wouldn’t know what to do or say. Especially if Gulum-Ei wouldn’t cooperate… 

“Anything else I need to know?” 

“There are thieves, and then there is Gulum-Ei.” Brynjolf began to explain. He took her hand in his and squeezed it assuringly. “No honour, no code at all. He'd shake your hand and stab you in the back at the same time. The cut he's supposed to provide the Guild has dwindled as of late. He says pickings in the Warehouse are slim, but I'm certain he's lying. Keep your eyes on him; he's quite crafty.”

By the time they finished mapping out the main plan and the backup plan to shadow the Argonian, the thieves reached Solitude. Making their way to The Winking Skeever, they passed a public execution - of which Brynjolf kept Adi from looking at. Assassin or not, she didn’t like to see innocent lives taken. Especially when the accusations and sentences were baseless. Just like the Thieves Guild, the Dark Brotherhood followed a code. Being in the city of the Imperial Legion made Adi sick. 

“I already can’t wait to get out of here,” she whispered. 

“I know, lass,” Bryn replied gently. He placed a hand on the small of her back and led her into the tavern. The place was busy, but it didn’t take them long to spot Gulum-Ei. The Argonian sat alone in a small alcove, sipping an ale. They approached him carefully, Adi a step behind Brynjolf. 

“So, what do we have here?” Gulum-Ei sized them up. “Hmm. Let me guess. By your scent, I'd say you were from the Guild. But that can't be true because I told Mercer I wouldn't deal with them anymore.”

“We’re here about Goldenglow Estate,” Adi said. Being direct was the best way to go, according to Brynjolf. Beating around the bush would allow Gulum-Ei to redirect their focus to something else entirely. 

“I don't deal in land or property.” he scoffed. “Now, if you're looking for goods, you've come to the right person.”

“You can drop the act now... Gajul-Lei.” Brynjolf raised an eyebrow. They had him cornered, and there was no way for him to get out of this. 

“Oh, wait... did you say Goldenglow Estate?” the Argonian spoke nervously. “My apologies. I'm sorry to say I know very little about that... bee farm, was it?"

“You acted as a broker for its new owner.” Brynjolf took the lead in the conversation, as per the plans discussed. His silver tongue would get more out of the Argonian than Adi would. 

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. I can't be expected to remember every deal I handle.”

“Identify the buyer, and we'll forget what we know.” the tone was almost forceful, and his expression showed he wasn’t to be messed with. If Adi didn’t know Brynjolf personally, she’d be scared out of her wits. 

“All right.” Gulum-Ei caved. “Had I known the deal would bring this much trouble, I never would have accepted the gold. I was approached by a woman who wanted me to act as the broker for something big. She flashed a bag of gold in my face and said all I had to do was pay Aringoth for the estate. I brought him the coin and walked away with her copy of the deed.” 

“Did she say why she was doing this?” 

“Not at all. I tend not to ask too many questions when I'm on the job. I'm sure you understand.” Adi couldn’t argue with him there. She tended not to ask any questions when given a job. It was a waste of time, and often it was better to have less information. Although, it seemed like he purposefully left out a key piece of information… “However, I did notice she was quite angry, and it was being directed at Mercer Frey.”

“That's it? No name or anything?” Brynjolf looked displeased. He and Adi shared a look, telling each other he wasn’t being believable. 

“In this business, we rarely deal in names; our identity comes from how much coin we carry.”

“I think you're lying to us.” Adi gave him a look, but Gulum-Ei just laughed it off. 

“Look, that's all I know.” he shrugged. His voice wavered a bit, but he tried to keep it steady. Luckily, the change in tone wasn’t lost on either thief. “I never promised you I'd have all the answers. Now, since our transaction is done, I'll be on my way.”

The Argonian pushed past the two of them and headed out of the Tavern. He looked back at them before heading out, clearly to make sure they weren’t going to follow. Unfortunately for Gulum-Ei, that was the backup plan the two of them devised. 

Adi waited a few seconds before walking out of the Tavern with Brynjolf right behind her. She was to take the lead in this, having the skills needed to blend in with the shadows. Brynjolf wasn’t as quick and subtle as she was, so he was to follow her and be backup when needed. 

Sticking to the shadows, Adi kept her eye trained on the Argonian. The distance between them was large enough that he would be unable to spot them by a wall or in a tree grove. Even if he did, it was unlikely they would be recognized. At least not immediately. 

Getting to the docks proved to be the easiest part of shadowing. There were no obstructions to hide behind, and Gulum-Ei kept looking left and right consistently. Adi and Brynjolf had to crouch down and wait until he was somewhat out of sight in order to move forward. From there, they walked slowly, Adi keeping her eyes on the Argonian once they spotted him again. 

When he disappeared behind the door that led to the warehouse, Adi had Brynjolf watch for any guards as they approached it. She took out her lockpicking set and began to work. Brynjolf shielded her with his body, trying to act natural as guards walked up and down the docks, never stepping past Vittoria Vicci. 

“We’re in.” Adi pushed the door open lightly, trying to avoid making a sound. They slipped through with ease and kept to the walls. Gulum-Ei was nowhere in sight, and the place seemed like a maze. Luckily, Adi noticed a ramp that led to the top of the boxes, and the thieves climbed up as silently as possible. Once she spotted Gulum-Ei, they moved. 

They were going to get the name of the buyer no matter the cost.

[scarletttries]

A Rare Night Off: Date Three

Pairing: Adrian Chase/ Vigilante x Reader

Rating: Explicit (Possessive Adrian)

Word Count: 3.6k

Author's Note: This is the third date in my 'A Rare Night Off Series'. Original story is here, and Dates 1 and 2 are linked. Enjoy, and my requests are open for your Peacemaker requests and headcanons, I love them all so much! :)

Date Three: Drinking Games and Dance Moves

Sitting on the edge of your bed in your towel, you flicked through the playlists on your phone, looking for something to set the right mood for your night off. Scrolling past your usual genres you smiled as you found the playlist you and Adrian had made together one night, trying to find all the songs that made you want to dance. You let the upbeat melodies fill the air, as you planned to hit the town, making the most of the free time you had with your wonderful, crime-fighting (and committing) boyfriend. You spun around the room to the tune as you pulled out that mini dress you'd been saving for a night like this, and called out to Adrian, now singing along in the bathroom,

"Do you want to go out tonight? Like to a bar?"

"Hell yeah! I always want to tear up a dance floor with you, my sexy sweetheart." He shouted over the music, already getting a little excited at the thought of holding you close under neon lights. You loved his enthusiasm for dancing with you, and opted for pairing comfy trainers with your dress over boots or heels.

You text Harcourt for a recommendation of a good bar in the local area, and to give her the option to direct you away from whatever barstool she was probably enjoying in solitude for the evening. You had a slight tinge of guilt as you hoped she wasn't going to invite you out with her, knowing you would never turn down an invitation from someone so guarded, breathing a sigh of relief as she sent you the name of a couple cool bars on the opposite of town to where she tended to drink. Adrian had started dressing himself only to once again get distracted by the music, standing on the bed playing air drums with his shirt pulled on but not yet buttoned. It was hard not to get distracted by the way his eyes lit up as he moved, muscular chest glistening and buoyant curls bouncing in time to his movements. Belting out the words as you perfectly executed your preferred level of hair and make up, you two were quickly ready to hit the town as a damn good looking couple.

You ubered to the first bar in Harcourt's list, a surprisingly lively atmosphere greeting you as you stepped through its doors. Adrian found a quiet booth near the back to settle into, keeping you away from prying eyes if his displays of affection got a little too public, while you set up a tab in the bar, already feeling the music on offer and getting ready to settle in for the night. You asked the friendly woman on the bar for 'two of the beers that came in the fancy tankard glasses', and headed back to find Adrian already missing your company as the upbeat love songs playing only reminded him of you.

As you got closer to his table you slowed down your walk, and pretended to look around the room before locking eyes with him. You placed both beers on the table and deliberately spoke slowly and seductively as you leaned over the table,

"I usually never do this, but I saw you from across the bar and think you might just be the most handsome man I've ever seen. You look pretty much exactly like the man of my dreams, and so I thought I'd buy you a beer and see if you'd let me join you?" You stifled a laugh, watching the gears gradually turn in Adrian's head as he figured out your flirty ruse and responded,

"That's very flattering, thank you. I should warn you though, I think I'm already in love with you." You choked back a laugh as you slid into the seat next to him, setting one of the glasses in front of him,

"How forward, I bet you say that to everyone that buys you a beer."

"Only when they make me feel the way you do." He replied, scooting closer to you on the seat moving one arm around your waist.

"And how do I make you feel, handsome stranger?" You quizzed, leaning in close to feel the heat from his blushing cheeks, expecting a scandalous response you wouldn't want to rest of the bar patrons hearing.

"Like I'm not alone in this world anymore." His flirty tone faltered for a second as his sincerity won out, his eyes falling to your lap for a moment, self conscious of his honesty. You accepted that Adrian was terrible at this flirty game, but wonderful in pretty much every other way, so you clinked your glass against his and replied,

"I'll drink to that, because I'll never leave you alone Adrian." Managing only the smallest sip before his lips were on yours, giddy after trying to play it so cool.

"For a second there I really thought you didn't recognise me babe." He laughed, tipping back his glass so enthusiastically that it knocked against his glasses, like he knew you wouldn't have another night off together for a while.

"Don't worry love, your face is one of a kind, I would recognise you anywhere." You said leaning in for a kiss and feeling Vigilante's arm pull you closer into him.

"I think all of you is one of a kind babe, you're the

prettiest person I've ever seen. And you're so fun and so nice to me, and I really do feel like I'm supposed to be in your life and make sure you never have to feel lonely again. Not that I think you were lonely before you met me, but I felt lonely before I met you, and now I don't feel like that any more, even when you're not with me, because I know you'll always come back. And because you send me nice pictures, and reply to my mermaid emojis..." He rambled on as you drank together, sharing your sweet nonsense thoughts, laughing at nothing, and occasionally passionately making out for periods of time that made the tables around you stare. As a few more beers got put away by the two of you, you ended up making a drinking game of your stories, gradually dissolving into a game of 11th Street Kids themed Never Have I Ever.

"Never have I ever leapt into the back of a pick up truck going at full speed!" Adrian said in a targeted tone, having witnessed you do just that from the roof of a house, fleeing a botched kidnapping attempt. You took another gulp, giggling at how he mimed your dramatic fall with his hands.

"Oo, I got one! Never have I ever seen Harcourt smile." You weren't expecting Adrian to match your sip on that one, "No way, when did make her smile?" You pried, only to get a dramatic retelling of the time he had brought some leftover chocolate cake from the end of his shift at Fennel Fields to the office, intending to give it to you, but when he'd been walking towards the office, Harcourt had pulled up in her car, and just as Adrian had started to climb the stairs, she beeped her horn and startled him so hard he not only tripped on the stairs but dropped the cake, and fell into it, standing up to reveal a large brown stain down the back of his suit.

"So yeah, she laughed for about 30 seconds and I saw her smile!" He said proudly, like that was an intentional accomplishment, and not an embarrassing tale of his usually flawless coordination failing him.

"I don't know how anyone can resist smiling when they look at you." You thought aloud, raising your glass to him again,

"Never have I ever slept with the sexiest man in the world." You stroked his face as you sipped, nearly spitting your drink back out, as he took a gulp too, then looked at you, puzzled,

"You've slept with Peacemaker too?"

You struggled to choke down your sip as his brow furrowed almost accusatory,

"I meant you Adrian!" You finally got out, laughing at the relief that washed over his face as he realised you hadn't slept with his best friend and just never mentioned it.

"Oh, that makes me feel a lot better! I was about to make a very angry phone call" he postured, setting off your laughter again.

"I can't believe you think that Chris is sexier than you, or that I'd think anyone is sexier than you!" Adrian blushed as he smiled, constantly, but pleasantly, surprised at just how much you liked the way he looked.

"So you really think if you actually saw me across a bar, you'd think I'm handsome and want to buy me a drink?" He asked, tone softer than his usual bold declarations of love, like he somehow almost doubted the idea.

"Are you kidding!? If I saw you across a bar, I'd buy you one of every drink just in the hopes that that was enough to get me sat next you. And I'd need to sit immediately because seeing you for the first time made me beyond weak in the knees, so I'd literally be falling all over you. And then I'd accidentally be completely inappropriate about how gorgeous you are because I'd be so turned on by you just smiling at me, and ultimately I think I would make an insane first impression so it's really probably for the best that we didn't meet in a bar or you might not like me nearly as much." You got it all out in one breath, astonished that he would even have to ask, sure that your constant compliments could almost be taken for granted at this point. He paused, slightly taken about by your rambling, a taste of his own medicine, with a dopey smile spreading slowly across his face.

"I think that would be an amazing first impression, I'd have fallen in love with you just as fast. I definitely have accepted those drinks and taken you straight to the dance floor to lock that down."

"Is that so, well then why don't you take me to the dance floor now and see if you can't lock this down." You squirmed your way out of the booth and extended your hand to the smiling vigilante, who quickly accepted and haphazardly moved his limbs to get to his feet without releasing your intertwined fingers. The bar had a small wooden dance floor towards the back, not completely empty but with plenty of space for Adrian to raise his arm up and twirl you under it before pulling you into his chest. His arm snaked around your hips as they swayed to the music, his eyes shining down at you brighter than the disco ball above your heads. His fingertips brushed your sides as you danced, threatening to dip below your hem at any moment, but respectfully saving that for the instant he got you home. You lightly planted a kiss on him before you moved your lips to brush over his ear,

"Consider me completely locked down."

You spun on your heels to press your back to his chest, hips swaying together. His lips found your neck as his hands gently held your hips, moving them perfectly in time with his, and as the song drew to a close you heard him quietly whisper,

"Now it's OUR famous butt dance."

You stepped out of his arms and turned to ask him what the hell he just said, but were stunned into silence by the sight of another man walking towards you with purpose. Stepping into the limited space between you and Adrian, he looked you up and down and before moving to set his hand on your shoulder,

"I like watching the way you move sweet thing, how I give you a spin?" He growled sleazily, his eyes leering uncomfortably on your body. Before his sweaty palm could make contact with your skin, it was stopped in its tracks by a firm grip and a single sturn word,

"Nope."

Adrian was around you in an instant, bending the arm reaching for you backwards, bringing the drunken brute to his knees before throwing him across the floor.

"Time to go." Adrian decided, scooping you over his shoulder and making a run for the door,

"Wait!" You screeched in his ear, pulling out enough cash to cover your tab and a good tip for the lady behind the bar that kept your glasses full. "Thank you! Okay, let's run." You slapped his back, sending him back to full speed as you were carried out the bar, both of you laughing at his ill-advised chivalry. You managed to flag down a taxi, insisting he set you down before you found out the limits of his land-speed while carrying you. His hands found your waist as the car set off to your place, and you practically had to wrestle him to get his seatbelt on, his adrenaline spiking at the thought of another man getting a hand on you. You held his hand tightly in yours for the short drive, certain if you didn't they would quickly start to wander of their own accord. His breathing was heavy as he sat in unusual quiet, mind racing. All his questions of how you'd react to seeing him in a bar now had his thoughts fixated on the possibility of you seeing someone else at a bar, and dancing with someone other than him, laughing at someone else's stories, making someone else feel the way he got to feel around you. The thought drove him insane, even as you firmly wrapped his hands in yours, an unacceptable reality stirring in his mind, where he didn't have you, because someone else did.

As the taxi pulled up to your place he paid the driver, a steely undertone to his 'thanks' that you couldn't miss. You thought he maybe got hurt in the scuffle or got-car sick on the drive home, so hurriedly opened your door, leading him inside tenderly. The moment you had it locked again, he was on you, a flurry of hands and lips and noises as he lifted you on to your kitchen counter by your thighs, slotting between them. His lips were firm against yours, heat rising inside you as his fingers brushed softly over your neck and collarbones before gripping your hips to pull you closer against his chest. You let out a soft moan as he pressed his hips into yours, feeling his excitement through his trousers. His lips trailed to your neck, sucking hard, needing to mark you as his own, letting everyone know you were taken for good.

"No one but me should ever get to touch your skin, let alone dance with you." He growled against your skin, sending a shot of lightning up your spine, his possessive nature rarely coming through so strongly. You glimpsed his eyes as he pulled back, dark and intense, his chest heaving passionately as his hands found your thighs again, pulling you back into his grasp and lifting you towards the bedroom.

He dropped you onto your back on the bed, handling you a little more roughly than usual, not that you had any complaints. He grunted frustratedly as he pulled his shirt off, half panting in his animalistic need to have you, veins in his neck twitching as he drank in the sight of you lying at his mercy, already desperate to feel more of him. He dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed, looking like a man who just found salvation, and dragged you closer to him by your knees. He skimmed his fingertips up your thighs, his breath hitching as he reached your underwear, quickly pulling them off and tucking them in the pocket of his jeans, out of your grasp.

"Adrian.." You breathed out, not wanting to break him out of his trance, but genuinely taken aback by the way he tensed his jaw looking hungrily at you. In response his lips kissed frantically up your thigh, pulling his face closely between them and drawing his tongue in one long slow motion over your entrance. Your low moan as he made contact seemed to send him into overdrive, his face burying itself into you, tongue working your sensitive clit like a man possessed. Your head fell back against the bed as your back arched, but Adrian firmly held your hips in place, not letting up his pace for even a second. The feeling of his upper body strength holding you in place, making sure you couldn't escape his ravenous sucking quickly had you seeing stars, heat building rapidly inside of you. Placing one arm over you, his free hand quickly moved to slip two fingers in, he felt how much lust he had built up inside of you, growling contentedly against your bud, sending another intense wave of pleasure through you.

"You're so wet love." He said darkly, and you knew exactly what he wanted to hear, saying anything you needed to keep this sweet torture going.

"All for you Adrian." You moaned, practically letting out a scream as his lips returned to you, his tongue briefly joining his fingers in their steady pace.

"Because only I can make you feel like this right?" He panted into your thigh, before his tongue went back to work, making it harder and harder to answer him as your climax approached rapidly.

"Only you Adrian, you make me feel so good. No one else can make me cum like you." You managed to get out, spurring him on as his finger worked into you deeper and faster, and your thighs involuntarily shook around his cheeks as you came hard onto his fingers and mouth, moaning his name over and over like no one else had ever existed. His pumping hand didn't let up for a second as the waves of pleasure washed over you, licking up your excitement greedily,

"I'll always take care of you honey, as many times as you can take it. And you'll never want anyone else, it will always be you and me." He said firmly, his hips bucking against the bed as he watched you squirming in bliss at his touch.

"Fuck me Adrian." You begged, his unrelenting pace quickly stirring up excitement inside of you again. He nodded frantically as he kissed your entrance one final time before stripping off his bottoms, and quickly climbing over you. He pulled your dress over your head, careful with the thin material so he could be sure you'd wear it for another date night. He roughly gripped your hips, angling them up so he could plunge deep into your wet heat, earning a moan from you he wanted to replicate a thousand times over. His lips crashed to yours as he thrust into you, desperate to feel you all around him, completely his.

"Fuck I love you (y/n)" He groaned at the way you moved beneath, taking everything he gave you and making him feel like he could do anything as long as you were by his side. You smiled through your blissful haze, echoing his sentiment as best you could through desperate moans, "I love you Adrian, I love you, oh fuck Adrian." He leant back to allow his finger tips to skim down your body to rub your clit as his lips locked to your chest. His tongue swirled over your nipples as his pace grew frantic and uneven, hard to contain himself with the way you screamed his name. His bucking hips, gentle fingers and soft tongue had you at the tantalising edge of overstimulation, and you felt your walls tighten around him as your second orgasm released inside of you like fireworks.

Watching your head fall back in the overwhelming pleasure sent Adrian over the edge, moaning out your name like it was the only word he knew. He fucked you hard through your orgasm, intensity almost threatening to take you another round before he pulled out, settling himself in bed next to you. He pulled you into his arms spooning you, his fingers gently brushing over your highly sensitive skin. His every heavy breath stirred something inside of you as you lay together. You turned over to place your lips to his softly before whispering sweetly,

"I'm all yours Adrian."

He smiled, his usual light hearted energy returning as he kissed your nose and replied,

"And I'll always be all yours babe. I love you" His lips met yours again as his fingertips traced down your front softly, settling between your legs. He felt his seed dripping out of you, sending a shiver through your spine as he gently gathered some on one of his fingers, slowly pushing it back inside of you,

"I want to keep you full of me, so I'm always inside you." He said darkly, "All mine."

Author's note: Just for fun here are some of the songs I was thinking of for dancing with Adrian that I think are the right level of unhinged for how you would feel about each other:

Slow Dancing (Hazel English Remix) - Aly & AJ

Shapeshift - Jenna Doe

Sammy - chloe moriondo

Glowing Review - Maisie Peters

Share Your Address - Ben Platt

All Your Exes - Julia Michaels

Hard For Me - Charley

Stars Are Blind - Paris Hilton

Basically all the upbeat songs from Lover - Taylor Swift

Send me what songs make you think Adrian for my collection 😎🤠

[dornish-queen]

GQ MEXICO - PEDRO PASCAL 2021

It seems that Pedro Pascal is in all possible universes. Here and there. In the past, in the present, and in galaxies far, far away. Today, the actor is considered the great entertainment reference and one of those in charge of saving a franchise that seemed lost. Enough reasons to talk exclusively about discipline, gastronomy, creeds and how he traumatized his father in 30 seconds.

The RAE defines 'creed' as the set of ideas, principles or convictions of a person or a group. For example, by creed, one can leave his country and be in exile. It happens that one can leave the loved one behind. Or simply live in another reality. And also one can put on a helmet to pretend never to take it off again. If that is the path to follow, the creed says that it must be done with the profession of faith and without stopping to look. Turning the pages of the script for The Mandalorian , the Disney + series that revived passion and nostalgia for the Star Wars franchise , Pedro Pascal came across this definition in every dialogue and moment, and reflection carved his way.

More than two decades have passed since the Chilean-American, Pedro Pascal, began his acting career and today, named as the great reference of 2020 , he misses the theater and it still hurts him not to have the discipline to exercise and maintain a diet sana while acknowledging the irony of having the best year of her career in the midst of one of the worst in recent history. But even in physical solitude, the man who carried the best-selling Christmas baby rescues many positive things and shares his vision of the universes he has traveled through, his passion for distant galaxies and how to traumatize your family with a simple scene of TV. In an interview, the Mandalorian of Latinamerica.

IMDB named you the 2020 benchmark in entertainment, a year in which the world took refuge in fiction. How was living your best time locked up and what do you rescue on a human level from it?

The strength of family relationships and friendship. For them, we endure this physical loneliness. I do find it ironic that in 2020 I received projects so well received by the public, although they were carried out before the pandemic and their impact was during it, and that year I was isolated and alone. But I must emphasize that this loneliness is a privilege when many people had to continue working, surviving and maintaining the functioning of the world. We only had to be alone, but they more than that and you must value it too.

Among the activities you have missed, how much do you miss the theater?

Much indeed. It's something that I miss the most and being with people without being afraid. See a play and return to those experiences of being with people doing and living things in common. That is what I need most, in addition to my loved ones.

Disney fully entered streaming and its strong letter has your face, what do you think of the discussion of platforms against movie theaters?

There are incredible things in streaming and many people develop great projects that they did not have access to before. The diversity of voices is gaining ground and it is important to recognize that opportunities grow exponentially and boundaries change. It is incredible the availability that we have to very well made content and how creative people can share their work in different ways. But I also want to be honest: limiting the experience of watching content only on our gadgets or at home is a mistake that affects the stories we can tell. You have to achieve a mix of opportunities and challenges.

You jump between the fictional universes that mark the last decades until you reach the universe of universes. What is your first Star Wars memory and how do you summarize the essence of this legendary story?

For me, Star Wars is nostalgia itself. It is one of the primary things in my memory, of my childhood. I came to the United States with my Chilean family when I was less than two years old and one of my first memories is going to the movies with my dad to see the saga ; it becomes one of those romantic childhood things that opens your mind, so imagine how special it is to participate in this project. I think the creators of The Mandalorian perfectly understand this nostalgia and that power, and they managed to count on that element as a great ally for the world of Star Wars and I couldn't be happier to be part of it. (From which we expect the third season The Mandalorian)

The Mandalorian exploits the power and nuances of your voice, did you have that letter on your resume?

I didn't know I could do it, but I resorted to my theater preparation, which was very physical on all levels and feelings. There are elements that have to do with and that are essential to create a role, and they teach you that the voice is something primary, something you have to start with and you cannot hide. Now I have learned much more about the importance of that, and how to use it economically. The body also has to do with that, because something very subtle communicates something. In The Mandalorian , I had a great time figuring out how to do it, they gave me the opportunity to develop it in different ways. The opportunity to be very intense at it.

What happens to the ego when someone works under a suit and a mask?

In the conversations about the project, before doing it, we were communicated the idea and the concept of the entire season , so I clearly understood what it was. I wanted it to be the most powerful version of what they were trying to accomplish, so there was no point in involving my ego, you know? It was already very clear what the project meant, so I knew about the character , the piece that it represented for him and the opportunity that it was for me, so I was only focused on executing in a better way the part that touched me in everything this. In the theater, I worked several times under a mask and it helped me develop the experience.

It seems that The Mandalorian has a very theatrical base ...

Exactly, and thanks to the physical experience of working in theater, doing a play a few times a week, discovering how your body and your voice communicate , being part of a whole image, and how you will tell that story visually, I achieved this character. I never imagined that it would be something I would have to use on such an important Star Wars project .

On the list of entertainment greats, there are names like Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, do you think John Favreau should be added to the list?

I think your name is already included. Without a doubt, it is in that category and it is incredible. His vision fascinates me. I remember an episode in the second season , and I had some boots and I walked so much in the snow, it stuck to them. He figured it out, so he talked to the art department about the kind of boots you need when you're out in the snow. They approached me and gave me new ones that fulfilled the idea I was looking for. He noticed it in an instant. It is such a wonderful detail and it is repeated to scale in every session with him. He thinks of absolutely everything and his vision of the use of technology is admirable. He is someone who makes you feel motivated and always sees how to achieve the goal.

One of the reflections in the series is on how and under what circumstances a man can break his creed and way of life. What makes you break with your beliefs?

I think that you must follow your heart so as not to regret anything; Although sometimes it brings pain or conflict, deep down when you look back, everything is worth it because it was what you heard in your heart. I am very afraid to deny that feeling or not to attend to it. I am 45 years old now and I cannot believe I have a finer philosophy. Make it more disciplined. It's ridiculous, but I'm trying to accept that I am and it's all I can say, "follow your heart." Although, you know, I'm not on a good diet yet, I still have trouble sleeping or exercising.

Still good at Chilean empanadas?

Yes, I couldn't stop. And also how good that I do not live in Mexico City because I would only spend it eating. I could move my whole life to defe just to eat.

I want to deviate and ask you, with whom did you see the chapter of your death in Game of Thrones and what traumas did you cause in your family?

For me, no trauma. I separate myself well from the characters , although I fully understand that if I were a Game of Thrones audience and loved that character, it would make an incredible impression on me. Thank you that it was not. I had to interpret it and there was a model of my head to be crushed that way with the tubes and the fake blood, you know? Me lying there, with pieces of my meat, it was funny in the end. But not for my family. For them there is nothing funny but traumatic. My dad's voice changed completely when we saw the episode, he turned around and said: “I didn't like it, Pedro . No, Pedro , not this ”.

The media found similarities between your villain in Wonder Woman: 1984 and Donald Trump. When playing a character with characteristics like this, do you humanize him or do you understand him?

The project had nothing to do with the former president. They always told me that my character in Wonder Woman: 1984 was emotionally messy, and I took that and took that as far as possible. Instead of creating it with images or certain inspirations from life, it was more to work with what was on the page. Personally, what made sense to me is the size of the story that is being told and there is always more, and we all want more. Creatively, if this makes sense, that meant "blowing her out of the park." Connect a hit with the character and be committed to telling his story faithfully, in a way that was true to me. So all the exterior elements found their way.

What a way to start 2021 with the theme of the Capitol ... How do you perceive that moment?

I am not a politician and it is not that I do not have an opinion about this type of event; however, it is not necessary to state the obvious. My opinion would be very simple compared to that of a person who studied this, who knows how to act in these kinds of scenarios; I believe that I am next to the majority who experienced this, which is the logical result of what we have experienced during these years and we are all horrified . It was distressing to see this violence.

If you had the monolith in your hands, what would your wish be?

My wish would be… it's impossible, really (laughs). I think it is to be together again, with less fear and that people have the opportunity to connect.

What is your position on the reality that Chile has experienced in recent years and how has the relationship with your country been since exile?

It is something that I am developing and I continue to do in my life, trying to understand that it is my home. To be in Chile is to be at home, but my life has been very nomadic, living different things and having many influences; so it is strange, I do not feel with the title of a complete Chilean identity nor with an American one.

Neither here nor there?

In a sense, but I'm also completely both. My parents are Chilean , my brothers were born there before my parents traveled, and I came back sometimes because my family is very large; in fact, my parents came back. It has always been there, it continues to develop, and it will be a part of me. I don't know if it answers your question, but it has a lot to do with who I am.

What is your relationship with Latin American cinema? Are you interested?

Much, it has invaded me in life like American cinema. The movies that I carry in my heart, seeing something like Y tu mama was also something that changed me; I also love the work that comes out of Chile , and the only thing I can say is that it is a cinema that needs more access and projects.

Today you have a comedy with Nicolas Cage on the door, can you tell us something?

It's my first shot at comedy , as a complete story within the genre. Speaking of American influences , in the 80s I saw all the films where Nicolas Cage appeared , he came into my life and it's great to be his partner after seeing all his performances.

How is the relationship you have with the comedy genre?

I love it, I have done a lot of comedy in the theater, what happens is that in film and television issues , I was always part of drama castings . And in the cinema, you go where the doors open; Although I identify with one or the other, I think that being an actor , one goes and does what one has to do. Comedy is something unique, it is very challenging because it must be very real to be funny, you cannot hide or use normal tricks. I was very excited to have this challenge in front of a camera.

Finally, Pedro, after going through so many fictional worlds, literally, what do you dream about when you sleep?

I dream that my bathroom is dirty, that I haven't done my math homework, that the oven is on and all that stuff. Sure, there are times when I close my eyes and see myself in all these projects , although my conscience is with the anxieties of the day that you can imagine.

Without a doubt, Pedro Pascal is a particular type .

English Tranlation: Google Translate

SOURCE:  GQ MEXICO

[desperado-podcast]

A Talia short story from when we had a Patreon. Enjoy! Only A Fool Screams In The Dark

I think my grandmother was a cold woman, who raised an angry son.

But I understand.

Laurette was born in 1933, two years before the Old Man invaded our island. His incursion had been swift and ruthless, but I was told very few died. The Old Man wanted muscles and minds for his plans, not carcasses.

Depending on who you’ll ask, people will say Haïti was conquered that July, in less than a month. Others, will be adamant the war dragged on during nine years of blockade and guerilla, ending with a series of public execution.

As for my grandmother, she would tell you Haïti never fell. Cities burned, people were taken, but when the Old Man’s inquisitors ventured to the heart of our lands… None of them returned. There are things in the jungles you do not trouble. Long lost cousins of the primal spirits that roam Africa, brought by our ancestors.

For nine years, my grandmother and the other survivors hid amongst the trees. Hunting with wooden spears and drinking from the rain. They built huts and bridges, then watched the jungle destroy it all. Again and again. It was no evil nor sanctuary, just its nature.

The Old Man knew he could not send his followers for them and even he would not dare and provoke the jungle with fire. So he waited. He made it impossible for my people to leave. The wilds made it impossible to live.

We surrendered.

Our Old Myths met the New Ones, and from that emerged something new. Something my Grandmother could believe in. A heritage she would, ultimately, sell my soul to.

Those who joined the Old Man, lured out of the jungle by promises of power and dignity, were formed into a new nobility. And those like my grandmother, who built their houses on the edge of the wilds, chose freedom over luxury. They obeyed no orders,  their children never sent to war, but hunger and solitude would be their daily burden.

From these two companions, my father learned about rage. Rage, for a mother born during the war, with claws and fangs but no heart. For a mother who was taught by the jungle, but the jungle knows nothing about love.

In rage, my father found faith. And in faith, he ran from hunger. He left her house for the church when he was just a child. People said he grew up as the most striking young man.

The face of the new Haïtian generation, built by the strength of the Old Man! He went up the ranks in no time, well on his way to become one of the Angels.

“The most powerful man on the island”, read the newspaper. “A weak, arrogant fool” repeated  my grandmother.

They did not see each other for almost a decade. Until the night someone came knocking at Laurette’s door.

My mother. Bruised and burned, 3 year old me in her arms, begging for protection.

And this is my earliest memory: Laurette opening her door in the middle of the night, dagger in hand, and closing it back almost immediately, deaf to my mother’s cries.

“You married a crusader. Live the life you wanted.”

“Then don’t help me you tattered wench, but take her!”

…

“Please! I’m begging you please, he’ll be there soon! Laurette she’s your blood!”

The door opened. And I was shoved in her arms. Just like that. My mother left me to the last free woman of the island.

“Good luck” Laurette said, without taking my mother in.

“Fuck you.”

Grandmother shrugged and walked back inside. She crossed the living room without haste, then left through the backdoor. I didn’t make a sound.

I know it’s weird, but for the longest time, this was one of my happiest memory. Everything was soft and quiet. The night, the breeze, and the shawl she had wrapped me in.

I remember the wind through the branches and the stars high above. I remember how the tree trunks ate the sky, as we ventured deeper in their realm.

And I remember a voice, calling grandmother’s name far behind us. Father had found our trail.

Yet Laurette never rushed, nor turned around. She kept walking at the exact same pace, humming a song to herself, and to my delight. She smiled back at me, crouched under a liana, then brushed the bark of a tree with her fingers. Its roots politely moved away.

Behind us, at the edge of the jungle, a light tore through the darkness. Fire.

Father was making his way to us, crushing and slashing everything in his way. Flames were engulfing his sword, tracing blazing arcs of destruction through the night.

He was gaining on us. A lot.

But then something moved all around us. Something big.

And grandmother cooed over me:

“You’re quiet, little thing”

Something dropped from the trees.                                 Something dug through the earth.                                            And something leaped from the shadows.

“That’s good.”

Talons.

Tusks.

Thorns.

And a scream. Cut short.

“You won’t be a fool.”

And the fire went out.

[tired-spider]

The Death of the Dragonborn

The Dragonborn is a well known figure in Skyrim’s recent history. Not only the slayer of the World Eater, but also the many other dragons who threatened Skyrim’s holds and those who traveled her roads. After proudly serving the Imperial Army, he worked along side not only the College of Winterhold, the Companions, and Dawnguard. Despite his public actions, whispers of dark deeds followed him.

One such whisper was that his mask once belonged to a dragon priest whose grave he desecrated. It covered his face, and very few creatures, both mortal and immortal, ever saw him without it. Those who had were close friends, and spoke of rot on his breath, wolfish teeth, and fire scarred lips. 

Guards in Solitude tell each other stories over mead, some about the Dragonborn. About his break in to the Blue Palace’s Pelagius Wing, or about the wedding of the Emperor’s cousin. When two argonians, one masked and the other unmasked, attended the service together, dressed in fine robes, fleeing just after the bride’s unfortunate death on the balcony.

These stories are little, when compared to the stories of massacres that come from guards in Markarth. One that started after the Dragonborn, alongside a group of forsworn prisoners burst from Cidhna Mine, and paved their way out of the city with blood. A second one occurred after he was caught dragging a bloody body into the waterfall. In his escape, seventeen guards were killed. Despite this, he was never imprisoned, instead paying off guards who tried to arrest him.

Captured Stormcloaks, when asked about the fresh graves and mauled bodies found in their camps, all gave stories of a scaled and scarred werewolf, cutting its way through their ranks like they were nothing.

Given the rumors, it was no surprise that, only a few months after the death of Alduin, the Dragonborn was named the assassin behind the death of the Imperial Emperor, accused of being the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood. The people he worked alongside renounced him, and the Companions went as far as to provide assistance in the attempt to capture him. 

Even with both the guards and Companions on his trail, he remained just out of reach for a total of three months. He was finally found, outside of Dawnstar. It took seven guards and three Companion members ambushing him to knock him out, and take him to Solitude.

The execution was a large one, and quickly assembled. For many of the attendants, it was the first time they had seen the Dragonborn without his mask and armor. But even then, it was clear that the last few months of constant running and fighting had taken their toll.

The man never fought against the guards who pulled him to the executioner’s block. He stumbled over the cobblestones, and dragged one of his legs behind him. His mouth was tied shut, and eyes and scales were dull. A fresh cut was visible under his eye, and had not yet started to close. The ornate rings and ribbons that most argonians wear on their horns had been removed from his, and all that was left of his right horn was a cracked and splintered stump.

The death was quick, and the body was burned that evening.

The news quickly reached the Dark Brotherhood, and they mourned their lost brother, waiting for a new face to come to the sanctuary, speaking the words of a new Listener.

Fallumin woke up in the Soul Cairn, to a brilliant purple sky above him, and coarse grey sand under his head. As he pulled himself up, the pain and weariness of the living world drained away. Was this what death felt like? He wasn’t sure. Really, he felt the same way he did when he was last here. While he had been promised several different afterlives by a number of deities, this didn’t look like what he thought any of them would be.

He looked himself over, searching for the marks of the last few months. His horn was still broken, and when he touched under his eye, blood dripped down his fingers. On his neck, there was the bump of a scar, where the axe had cut it.

As he walked across the cold sands, his mind began to wander. He began to notice other small changes, things he didn’t notice at first. His thoughts felt different to him, as though they were no longer in his voice. He now had longer nails, and a heavier tail. It was easier to walk on fours, like he did when he was a beast, rather than upright. Shrugging it off, he continued onward on two legs, until he saw the familiar glow of the portal, and entered it.

The portal was bright, and magic swirled around his body as he burst through it, onto the cold floor of Castle Volkihar’s empty study. He stayed there for a moment, catching his breath. 

He was starving, and he could think of nothing else. The shelves were full of vaguely edible potion ingredients, and as Fallumin desperately rummaged through them and the drawers, he devoured as many as possible. He only slowed when his eyes landed on some stamina potions. Though not ideal, they could dull his hunger for some time.

And he had better things to do, and people to visit.

Now, twelve years after the death of Alduin, a new dragon, smaller than the rest, flies over Skyrim with a broken horn, burned scales, and wolfish teeth. Members of the Dark Brotherhood claim, despite the Dragonborn having died years ago, the dragon is that same Listener, guiding them to glory and their Mother’s embrace.

This was originally going to be a list of headcannons revolving around my Dragonborn’s death, inspired by depictions of Mirrak who is slowly turning into a dragon, Fallumin’s entry into the Soul Cairn, and just how many souls Fallumin has inside him. It got out of hand.

I’ve changed up the story a bit, mostly the order and timeframe of events, even when compared to how I finished quests. I’ve also added in small visual head-cannons, and the result of a Dark Brotherhood assassination gone wrong.

It’s not up to date, but on my main blog I have a portrait of my dovahkiin, along with some details about him.

[ofwolvesandbutterflies]

never gonna let you go

executive order | epilogue 

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Reader

Genre: soft fluff

Tags: arrangedmarriage!au, ceo!jaehyun, morningafter!au

Warnings: brief language, mentions of mature content

day 26 of 30 days of NCT

Synopsis: in which you’re reminiscing the events of the past year while wrapped up in the arms of the man you least expected

// let me be your present, not your past // (x) 

--

[06:14]

The sheets this morning felt different. Even in the early morning half-awake stupor you found yourself in, the sheets felt nothing like Jaehyun’s regular, simple cotton sheets. A tired frown overtook your lips. No, these sheets are most definitely polyester. Alongside the strange pair of sheets, there was a faint whisper of something beside the slumbering male behind you and it took you a moment to realize, it was the sound of crashing waves. Both that and the foreign aroma of the ocean breeze overwhelmed your still buffering senses. This… this was most definitely not your home. 

In fact, the only thing that felt remotely like home to you was the presence of another body curled up against your back. Jaehyun’s arms hung loosely around your waist, subconsciously pulling you closer to the heated skin of his chest. His breath fanned out over your neck, the same, gentle pattern as always. Slow inhale, slow exhale. He sighed in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent and you let the gentle smile curve over your face, snuggling closer to your husband.

A couple long minutes later, you opened your eyes and blinked, letting your brain adjust to the scarlet glow of the morning rays splattered all over the walls. The honeymoon suite was truly beautiful in a simplistic, minimalist type of way. It was all white, decorated sparsely with only the necessary pieces of furniture and a couple modern paintings. There was nothing but an ethereal sense of peacefulness that  enveloped your mind as you simply breathed, in and out, embracing the moment as it was. If only the path to this brief second of bliss had been as simple as the decor.

You turned to look over your shoulder at the man behind you, admiring the way it seemed all the stress and unease from the working week disappeared when he was fast asleep. Thinking back on it, it was almost comical the way you walked into your father’s office a mere week after you first began that ‘sleeping arrangement’ with Jaehyun… 

Johnny had been furious after that horrid confrontation with Jaehyun, but who could he tell? Who would believe him when he had countless public affairs of his own? Your father had expected him to care for you at the very least and he hadn’t even done that as a bare minimum, so it wasn’t as if he could storm the company demanding a ‘refund’ for something he hadn’t even tried to use. 

Needless to say, when your father had called you earlier that fateful morning, you hadn’t known what to expect. But, seeing Jaehyun lounging in one of the chairs around that large oak desk with his suit jacket hanging off that chair casually and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up like he owned the place sent both an incredulous smile up to your lips and a flush to your cheeks. There was something so… intimidating and kind of sexy about the confident, sly grin settled over his lips.

The tiniest of giggles rumbled in your chest when you recalled the way your initial surprise melted into full on shock when your father announced grandly that he decided to call off your engagement with Johnny. The partnership with Seo Enterprises would not have yielded as bountiful a harvest as a collaboration with Jung Jaehyun, was the full extent of his explanation, gesturing towards your paramour. 

Fortunately enough, you were able to keep your large, lonely penthouse. But with Jaehyun around more often, there was hardly a moment when you were alone in your solitude. Your father had never specified the romantic terms of his new ‘executive order’, meaning you truthfully had no idea whether you and Jaehyun were supposed to be married… but he was more than satisfied to publicly announce another engagement, this time, much more enduring. 

The most minute groan sounded in your lover’s chest when you turned around in his arms. Your eyes traced the softened lines of his dozing face, starting first with the wispy lashes casting shadows over his cheeks, going then to the slope of his nose, and finally settling on the curve of his parted lips. Reaching up, you brushed a select few strands of hair out of his eyes to admire the angelic man before you. He stirred under your hefty gaze before finally cracking an eye open to glare playfully at you. 

“Mmm… Darling…?” he mumbled, readjusting his hold on your bare body. His morning voice seemed an octave lower than normal and you bit back a cheeky smirk. “Did I not fuck you well enough last night to stay asleep a couple more hours?” 

An indignant squeak left your lips as you beat your fists against his well defined chest. “Jung Jaehyun! Out of all the ways to say ‘good morning’, you had to say it like that? Really?!”

He just laughed, a hearty, husky sound that stirred heat in the pits of your stomach. “Apologies, my love. Here, I’ll try again: Good morning, beautiful. I love you. Thank you, thank you, thank you for marrying me.” Your husband grinned cheekily, tugging you closer to shower kisses over your face, your neck, your shoulders… anywhere and everywhere he could reach. The sound of your shared laughter rang out against the beating of the waves beneath your private villa. 

It was nothing like how you pictured it. Married life, that is. You were more than a hundred percent sure your parents had never been this happy, even before you. Of course, it had only been an evening married to Jaehyun, but as the last of the breathless giggles left your lips, your eyes met his deep, cocoa colored ones. Jaehyun truly was breathtaking in all aspects and as he cupped your cheeks to pull you into another searing kiss… something told you you couldn’t possibly be any happier.

[chibimyumi]

Art Report – ‘Elisabeth 2019’ TOHO ACT 2

【Click here for Act 1 】

“Kitsch!”

Act 2 commenced, and the audience was greeted by the radiant presence of Yamazaki’s Lucheni. He was dressed as a merchant who sold souvenirs of the Imperial Family in light of the Hungarian coronation. Lucheni held a tray with merchandise, including mugs and plates with Elisabeth’s print on it. The luckiest people sitting at the very front were lucky enough to receive these gifts from Lucheni personally.

Lucheni warned the people that even though Elisabeth’s beauty was enough to literally enchant a nation into submission, one should not be fooled by her looks. Behind her beauty, a true egoist resided.

The Coronation

Lucheni lead us back into the 19th century, and finally the curtains rose. Franz I and Elisabeth were crowned King and Queen of Hungary, and the Hungarian people cheered. The King and Queen were lead on a chariot that gradually turned towards the audience. It weren’t normal horses that pulled the chariot, but Death Angels disguised as horses. The Death dancers’ dance was phenomenal. These Death Angels have always been one of my favourite parts about the Japanese version of ‘Elisabeth’. Sometimes they are minions of Der Tod, sometimes they are the noble guards. Furutod’s Death Angels did not seem sentient to me. The way they moved was so perfectly in sync with everything Furutod did, they felt more like the extension of his limbs, much like Sebas’ black miasma.

The one who held the reigns of the chariot was of course none other than Der Tod himself. Like he foretold Elisabeth in Act 1, her presence would lead Franz’ Empire into ruins. Who would be more suitable to steer the Royal chariot onto the path towards the Underworld than Der Tod himself?

Lord of the Leeeegs

Furutod sat very majestically at the front, and his leeegs just went on forever. According to Death Angel Okazaki Hiroki, once when he was dancing underneath the the chariot and he jumped up just a bit higher than otherwise. But his boss’ legs were too long, so the poor man bumped his head into Furutod’s solid heel. I heard that after that performance, Furukawa changed his pose, and sat with his legs to the side. ( ´艸｀)

“When I wish to Dance”

After the coronation, Elisabeth was full of confidence and declared her victory to Der Tod.

♪♬ E: I won, did I not? T: Victory is mine E: Mine. I made people acknowledge me T: The world shall move according to my whims, as I dictate E: It is for nobody’s sake but my own T: You did so for my sake. But you did indeed outwit your enemy and for now you triumph E: I was once made to dance like a marionette, but now I have paved my own path. Even on my own I shall dance, and only when I wish to, to the music of my choice. When I dance, even at the moment my life ends, I shall dance, before you and beyond your reach. ♪♬

Here, Elisabeth provoked Der Tod, at one point even extending her hand as she walked down the stairs. Der Tod got down on one knee and extended his hand, but Elisabeth retracted her own, and gave him a vindictive smile instead.

This was a very impressive scene, as well as the perfect execution of what Furukawa said in this interview: "As Death, I wish to provoke Elisabeth and give her the energy to live on in their game. I hope I will manage to communicate [on stage] how Death is an entity who gives Elisabeth life energy, except that the controls are ultimately in his hands.”

Indeed, just like Elisabeth’s line “it is for nobody’s sake but my own” and Der Tod’s reply: “you did so for my sake”, we see how these two characters stimulate each other to constantly play up their own games in outwitting the other. Perhaps Elisabeth might have given up before, but if she had, then she would have given Der Tod the satisfaction of having an easy victory. Perhaps she did not really want to live on for her own sake, perhaps she just wanted to prove to Der Tod she was better. If that were true, then Der Tod’s reply would indeed have rang very true.

Elisabeth was confident enough to not fall for Der Tod’s seductions anymore after his previous unsuccessful attempt in Act 1. She boldly swung the tail of her dress and pranced off stage.

Furutod had to reconsider his options now that seducing Sissi was out of the window. Luckily for Der Tod, the new option presented itself on a silver platter.

“Mama, Where are You?”

Enter child Rudolf who had been whipped and beaten into isolation from his mother.

♪♬ “Mama, where are you? Can you hear my voice? I am so cold, please hold me But everyone says that I am nothing but your burden And that I can’t be with you” ♪♬ - Child Rudolf

Rudolf had been pushed towards despair and insanity. His only company was a loaded pistol, and he even sung: “in order to test my courage, yesterday too I killed a cat.”

Der Tod knew that Rudolf would be his ultimate ace card to obtain his current favourite toy, and manifested before the child. Rudolf was startled, and asks: “who is this?” Furutod gave him a gentle smile and took the pistol from his hands, and replied in a soothing voice: “I am your friend.”

Furutod - The Shapeshifter

Furutod’s performance in the scene with child Rudolf was phenomenal to say the least. Though Der Tod had mostly been masculine-coded, once he manifested before Rudolf, he morphed into a willowy and feminine figure.

‘Death’ is understood differently by everyone. In the musical ‘Elisabeth’, Der Tod mostly shows himself in relation to suicidal persons. Suicidal tendency - when roughly translated -  is ‘yearning’ for death. We know explicitly that Rudolf yearned most for his mother, and thus we may understand that Furutod morphing into a motherly figure was him taking shape as the thing that Rudolf yearns for.

Through contrast, we also suddenly understand what Elisabeth had been yearning for. The way Furutod carried himself in front of Elisabeth was masculine and confident. Here we realise what Elisabeth longed for: namely a man who would respect her autonomy. She was very much in love with her husband at the beginning, but Franz’ spinelessness and lack of respect for her autonomy was quite a deal breaker.

On the other hand, ‘death’ is also ‘fear’ to most people. Elisabeth’s fear was to have her autonomy taken away. We did indeed also see how every time Furutod failed, it was because he crossed Elisabeth’s boundaries and scared her.

Please compare the following drawings of Furutod’s body language of when he is with Rudolf (at his most feminine) vs when he is at his most masculine (Dr. Seeburger** Will discuss later.)

Hyper Detailed Acting

Furukawa is famous for his hyper detailed acting, and he obviously paid the same attention for detail to playing Der Tod.

Rudolf rejoiced as he finally found someone, anyone at all, he could talk to, and continued his song at the bottom of the stage, while Furutod remained on the platform. Furutod’s eyes never left the child during the song. He was constantly fidgeting with the pistol, and it was very clear that he was carefully weighing all his options in getting Elisabeth.

Then, a glint appeared in Furutod’s eyes. As dictated by the script, Der Tod would point the pistol at Rudolf. All Der Tods I know of had pointed the mouth of the pistol at the child. Furutod however, aimed with the grip of the pistol instead.

Herewith, Furukawa brilliantly foreshadowed that Der Tod was not going to kill Rudolf, but instead make Rudolf commit suicide by shooting himself in the head.

The Madhouse

The madhouse was a very powerful scene. Elisabeth was a VERY clever woman who studied her history. She knew of her royal consort senpais that the being a woman in public eyes was a very hard job. She knew that queens like Marie Antoinette were hated for spending too much money, while other queens were criticised for not living up to the royal reputation by being too economical.

Elisabeth managed to find a perfect middle ground; she would spend a lot of money like a proper royalty, but she would spend it on education, hospitals, madhouses, and other such beneficial places. “Whaddya gonna say then, huh?”

Elisabeth would likewise pay personal visits to madhouses, showing her care. In the madhouse, she encountered a woman who thought she was the Empress herself; Windisch. Windisch glorified the Empress’ life, but to Elisabeth it was but a very sour parody of her miserable existence.

♪♬ “ If only I were really you The only thing about you that is chained is your body But your soul is free. That’s right, you’re free I have been fighting every war, but what did I win? All I won is solitude I can no longer stand this I feel like I am going mad I could walk on, but where am I headed to, I cannot see I cannot see anything” ♪♬

Madam Wolf and Madeleine

Despite Sissi’s inner torment, on the outside she was more successful than ever, and Sophiezilla hated how her son had become Sissi’s puppet instead of hers.

She blamed Sissi for having enchanted her son with her beauty, and was desperate to do something about it. She and her ministers had an idea. “An eye for an eye, a woman for a woman”. ♪♬

Sophie and her ministers arrange for a secret clandestine meeting between Franz and the most beautiful women of Austria. They invite Madam wolf to bring her girls. The most beautiful sex worker Madeleine - “the most ardent at her work, and carries an ‘occupational disease’“♪♬  - would be the one to enchant Franz instead

Franz was powerless against Madeleine’s charms and eagerness.

Dr. Seeburger

Sissi realised that the power she held was due to her beauty, and that the moment her beauty faded, so would her power. She maintained a spartan exercise- and diet-routine to maintain her small waist to the point of becoming anemic, and fainted.

Enter Dr. Seeburger. It was Der Tod of course (who probably punched the real doctor K.O., stole his clothes and shoved him into the broom closet).

Here Furutod was exceptionally manly; his voice was low and growly, and his movements big and difficult, as though he were an old man. Furutod here was so manly that in comparison, even his earlier masculine-coded behaviour seemed entirely gender neutral. I really, really love how Furutod was gender-fluid in performance. Why would ‘death’ have a gender anyway?

Dr. Seeburger sat down on the bench where Sissi was lying, manspreading his leeeeegs as he undid her corset and ribbon. (It was very creepy, but also sexy... not gonna lie...)

♪♬ T: Let me feel your pulse E: I am fine T: You have a light fever E: It’s normal T: How pale the colour of your face. The symptoms of that disease have started to show ♪♬ - Dr. Seeburger

“It is the French disease”

Sissi sprang up at Dr. Seeburger’s diagnosis, and claims it is impossible because she knew her husband to be many things, but not unfaithful.

♪♬ T: He too is but a mortal man E: He would never betray me T: And yet it is true E: If that is true , then I shall leave this palace! ♪♬  - Elisabeth

“No, I shall take my own life,” Sissi said, and Der Tod smirked and undid his disguise. Furutod didn’t waste another second to shed his ‘old skin’ and jumped onto the bench with swiftness previously unseen. “I have been waiting for this!”

♪♬ T: “Now is the time to welcome you to the the netherworld! Come with me, the one who truly loves you!“ E: No, wait! From now on I will shut my heart from him If he committed any sin, it means that I'll be free! T: Stop pretending, you bear no love for him The one you truly love is no one other than me! E: You're wrong! I will not dance with you yet” ♪♬

Again with renewed determination to live, Sissi successfully kept death at a distance.

Rudolf

Rudolf meanwhile had reached adulthood, but was never able to free himself from the Imperial family’s chains.

Miura Ryosuke’s (Joker) Rudolf was especially broken. Most other Rudolfs I have seen so far still had some battle spirit in them and truly believed they might succeed. Miuradolf however seemed to be convinced that everything would be in vain anyway, and was merely compelled to fight by external circumstances.

Rudolf strongly disagreed with his father’s way of ruling and was convinced that only joining the opposition and establishing a new Danube State would save the Habsburg rule. Franz warned his son that if he dared to become an ‘extremist’, he would take away his right of succession.

Rudolf was desperate, because on the one hand, the extremists (later the Nazis) did indeed have ideas that benefited the economy of Austria, but on the other hand, their extremist ideas were very hard to ignore. Rudolf sank to the floor.

Then, Furutod appeared again, literally helping Rudolf back onto his feet. When he asked Rudolf whether he still remembered him, he showed the pistol he took from him in his childhood before safely tucking it away again, as though saying: “I protected you back then, and now too I’ll protect you from harm.”

♪♬ T: The time of this long slumber has ended Do you still remember? That promise we made when you were just a child that when you need me I'll appear before you R: I would never forget a friend, it's just that I am... so consumed by fear that I am about to break T: I am now beside you! ♪♬

Rudolf was scared shitless and could only back away, but Furutod knelt down and caressed Rudolf when he was about to give up on the rebellion against his father.

♪♬ “Misfortune is drawing near, are you truly fine with looking on? Oh, my future Emperor.” ♪♬

Rudolf liked being addressed as Emperor alright, and quickly he scraped whatever energy he had left to stand up.

The Hungarian Rebellion

Under Rudolf (manipulated by Der Tod) the Hungarian revolution went smoothly. When the revolutionaries finally seemed to be reaching their goal, the Death Angels revealed the Imperial guards arrival at the scene. The Revolutionaries try to flee, but the Death Angels guided them towards the guards one by one. When Rudolf found a window for escape, Furutod spun him at his heel and showed him Elemer who was wounded, causing him to miss his only chance for escape.

Rudolf too was arrested and brought back to his father. His father was utterly disappointed and seemed determined to strip him of his succession right.

“Mama, You and I are like Mirror Reflections”

Rudolf was in despair, but fortunately his mother had just returned home since forever. Rudolf begged his mother to help him change the Emperor’s mind, but Sissi feared for her own skin, and rejected her son.

Most Rudolfs in this scene fell to their knees to beg Sissi ( like Kimura Tatsunari did ⇈ ), singing the song in a genuine plea. Miuradolf however was already beyond hope. He did not kneel, instead he remained standing and his own song seemed to lack any effort. It was like he knew his mother would reject him anyway, so why bother trying?

When Sissi rejected Miuradolf, he merely sighed and looked up. “Mama too abandons me...” in a tone of utter defeat.

Mayerling Incident

Now that Rudolf stopped seeing the point of living, Furutod appeared again.

“You wish to die?”

All Der Tods I have seen so far said the line “you wish to die?” either indifferently, or excitedly. Furutod however, spoke it in the SADDEST and most DISAPPOINTED tone ever! As though he could not believe the ‘ultimate key’ he selected was so spineless. As though he was disappointed that the son of the human he loved for her determination would give up so easily.

Furutod took a deep breath, and suddenly all enthusiasm in his eyes disappeared. The Death Angels appeared and ripped Rudolf’s jacket off. Furutod took out the pistol again, and the Mayerling dance started.

Furutod was mocking Rudolf, abusing his privilege of leeegs and aaaarms to keep the pistol outside Rudolf’s reach. He did so while wearing the most disappointed expression that had ever disgraced Furukawa’s face. It was as though Furutod was hoping that Rudolf would show a tenth of the vigour his mother did, and would try a bit harder to get that damn pistol.

But alas, all Rudolf did was basically begging Der Tod to stop the teasing. Miura’s performance was splendid, I’ve never seen any Rudolf as defeated before on stage. Furutod who suffered from ‘lethal apathy’ however, HATED it.

Der Tod stopped seeing the fun and just handed Miuradolf the pistol. Furutod was beyond cruel; he seemed to have concluded that if Miuradolf wanted to think himself as such a sad puppy, he’d let him. With pity in his eyes he caressed Rudolf’s cheek. When Miuradolf seemed somewhat uplifted to at least have affection from ‘his friend’, Furutod dropped his compassionate act, and made it a bit too clear to Rudolf that he was but ‘a boring nuisance’.

Miuradolf kissed Der Tod, but the latter did not even bother kissing him back.

Other Rudolfs - Kyoumoto and Kimura

I did not see the two other Rudolfs, but I heard that Kyoumoto’s Rudolf managed to anger Furutod so much, he bitchslapped him before kissing him at one point, and did not even bother looking at Rudolf as he blasted his own brains out.

Kimura’s Rudolf was apparently the only one who offered sufficiently much challenge/entertainment, and he was the one Furutod hated least.

Entertaining or not, Furutod still took Kimuradolf’s life as he really was nothing but a means to an end. I heard that as such, Kimuradolf was all the more hurt when his ‘friend’ appeared to have heartlessly used and betrayed him.

Kimuradolf was allegedly the only Rudolf Furutod bothered ‘seeing off’.

Rudolf’s Funeral

Sissi knew that if she had not rejected her son to save her own skin, then he might have been alive. She begged Furutod to take her life, and he seemed very content that he was about to win.

♪♬ “You took my son from me... Do not let me wait for any longer... do not let me suffer... I'll give it to you... take my life...! End my misery!” ♪♬ - Elisabeth

Furutod leaned in to kiss Sissi, but he saw that she merely longed for death only to escape life.

♪♬ “You do not really desire me!” ♪♬ - Der Tod

He was SO angry his face contorted and his hands were shaking! “How DARE you fool MOI!? I am the one to toy with people, NOT the other way around!”

Nightmare

After being a rejected by Sissi, Furutod had been behaving like a total baby. He had started a death orchestra where he plotted the death of one Habsburger after another. Franz found himself in this nightmare, where the Maestro - Furutod - stood on the platform, conducting the deaths of his family.

♪♬ F: Where is my Empress? T: Elisabeth belongs to me F: She is MY wife! Know some shame! T: But the one she desires is me F: I gave her everything I have T: And yet only I can give her the one thing she wants, freedom! F: I need to save my wife! T: But only I can truly save her F: If she had wanted you, she would already have been yours! ♪♬

Furutod was like: “enough. I’ll show you. I can take anything I want, I am mofo DEATH”. Here Furukawa raised his hand and ‘wiped’ his beautiful mask off his face, and revealed the monster underneath. (I fear that my art can’t really express how terrifying and GOOOOOD the symbolism was...)

♪♬ “Lucheni! Quick, come and take it!” ♪♬

Normally it is a bit hard for me to see how Elisabeth would go from rejection, denial and plain defeatism to ‘yes, I’m okay with dying!’. But now because Furutod had decided that the game is over, Elisabeth’s death was just everything abiding the law of nature.

Elisabeth’s Assassination

Furutod had sent Lucheni to assassinate Sissi. Lucheni merely walked up to her, stabbed the dagger he had received from the boss into Sissi’s torso. The historical Sissi’s corset was so tight that she did not even notice she had been stabbed, and walked on as though nothing happened.

In the musical, her assassination also happened quite matter-of-factly, except that this time, it is because Der Tod had decided he was not interested in the game anymore; so there was nothing anybody could do to stop him.

Sissi entered the Underworld again where Der Tod welcomed her.

♪♬ T: The time has come to welcome you to the nether world... E: Please take me with you, to the far away world of the dark to the place where my free soul can be at peace Both: If it is farewell to this sinking world anyway then embark on an eternal journey where time never ends E: I have cried, laughed, been disheartened and I have prayed There had been days where I tasted defeat in my senseless battle Regardless, I have entrusted my life to myself alone T:Regardless, you entrusted your life to me alone ♪♬

Furutod was the perfect prince charming again. Like he did before, he only guided Elisabeth with his finger tips, and gently caressed her hands. He let Elisabeth take the initiative of embracing and kissing him, and he kissed back very romantically.

When Elisabeth died and her body fell limp however, Furutod dropped his prince charming act. He transformed from lover to conqueror.

Furutod took Sissi’s body and rammed her into the grave, pinning her there like a bio-specimen🦋. Oh boy, was he happy.

The moment he had her however, he seemed to have lost interest again. The game was fun for as long as it lasted, but what next?

Never mind, he won, that’s what counted. Furutod turned to the audience, and struck a pose telling us that he is mofo ‘DEATH’. "If you’re interesting enough you might be able to avoid me, for a bit.  But don’t you think you can escape me.”

Then he retracted three fingers of the hand he had raised, and pointed at the audience. I personally could not see it as anything else but: “You’re next.”

“Later, maybe. No? Never.”

Like I said before in the report of Act 1, Furutod is easily the cruelest and the most skin crawling Der Tod I have ever seen.

He is like a little kid who’s spoiled beyond reason. But indeed, he is ‘death’. ‘Death’ is the biggest force of nature nobody can avoid, so it makes sense that Furutod never learned how to deal with rejection.

Concretely, Furutod’s mindset is: “Later, maybe. No? Never”.

The sketch below summarises the entire existence of Furutod and the musical ‘Elisabeth 2019′.

(Doll Marie-Antoinette and Mozart on the ground, as he throws old favourite doll Sissi away.)

[tigpooh67]

New interview from Pedro.    Did my best to translate to English.

Enjoy!!

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Looks like Pedro Pascal is in every possible universe. Here and there. In the past, in the present and in galaxies far, far away. Today, the actor is considered the great benchmark of entertainment and one of those in charge of saving a franchise that seemed lost. Sufficient reasons to talk exclusively about discipline, gastronomy, creeds and how he swallowed his dad in 30 seconds.

 The SAR defines 'creed' as the set of ideas, principles or convictions of a person or group. For example, by creed, one can leave his country and be in exile. It just so happens that one can leave the loved one behind. Or simply live in another reality. And you can also put on a helmet to pretend never to take it off again. If that is the way to go, the creed says that it must be done with the profession of faith and without stopping to look. As he turned the pages of the script for The Mandalorian, the Disney+ series that revived passion and nostalgia for the Star Wars franchise, Pedro Pascal came across this definition in every dialogue and moment, and reflection worked his way.

It has been more than two decades since the Chilean-American Pedro Pascal began his acting career and today, named as the great benchmark of 2020, misses the theater and still hurts him not to have the discipline to exercise and maintain a healthy diet while recognizing the ironic of having the best year of his career in the midst of one of the worst in recent history. But even in physical solitude, the man who carried Christmas's best-selling baby rescues many positive things and shares the vision of the universes he has traveled through, his passion for distant galaxies, and how to traumatify your family with a simple TV scene. In interview, the Mandalorian of Latin America.

 IMDB named you the 2020 benchmark in entertainment, a year in which the world took refuge in fiction. What was it like to live your best time locked up and what do you rescue on a human level from him?

The strength of family relationships and friendship. For them, we endure this physical loneliness. I find it ironic that in 2020 I received projects so well received by the public, although they were carried out before the pandemic and their impact was during this one, and that year I was isolated and alone. But I must stress that loneliness is a privilege when many people had to keep working, surviving and maintaining the functioning of the world. We just had to be alone, but they had more than that and you have to value it too.

 Among the activities you've lost, how much do you miss the theater?

A lot, really. It's something I miss most and being with people without feeling afraid. See a play and return to those experiences of being with people doing and living things in common. That's what I need most, besides my loved ones.

 Disney went into streaming and its strong card has your face, what do you think of the discussion of platforms against movie theaters?

In streaming there are amazing things and many people develop great projects that they didn't access before. The diversity of voices is taking its way and it is important to recognize that opportunities grow exponentially and limits change. It's amazing how much availability we have to very well-made content and how creative people can share their work in different ways. But I also want to be honest: limiting the experience of viewing content only on our gadgets or at home is a mistake that affects the stories we can tell. A mix of opportunities and challenges must be achieved.

Leaps between the fictional universes that mark the last decades until they reach the universe of universes. What is your first Star Wars memory and how do you sum up the essence of this legendary story?

For me, Star Wars is nostalgia itself. It's one of the primary things in my memory, of my childhood. I came to the United States with my Chilean family when I was under two years old and one of my first memories is going to the movies with my dad to see the saga; it becomes one of those romantic things about childhood, that open your mind, so imagine how special it is to participate in this project. I think the creators of The Mandalorian fully understand this nostalgia and power, and they managed to count on that element as a great ally for the Star Wars world and I can't be happier to be a part of it. (Of which we look forward to the third season The Mandalorian)

 The Mandalorian exploits the power and nuances of your voice, did you have that letter on your resume?

I didn't know I could do it, but I resorted to my theatrical preparation, which was very physical at all levels and feelings. There are elements that have to do with creating a role, and they teach you that voice is a primary thing, something you have to start with and can't hide. Now I've learned a lot more about the importance of that, and how to use it with economics. The body also has to do with it, because something very subtle communicates something. At The Mandalorian, I had a great time figuring out how to do it, they gave me the opportunity to develop it in different ways. The opportunity to be very intense in it.

 What about the ego when someone works under a suit and mask?

In the conversations about the project, before doing so, we were informed of the idea and concept of the whole season, so I clearly understood what it was. I wanted it to be the most powerful version of what they were trying to accomplish, so it didn't make sense for me to involve my ego, you know? It was already very clear what the project meant, so I knew about the character, the piece he represented for himself and the opportunity it was for me, so I was just focused on better executing the part that touched me in all this. In the theater, I worked several times under a mask and it helped me develop the experience.

It seems that The Mandalorian has a very theatrical base...

Exactly, and thanks to the physical experience of working in theater, making a play a few times a week, discovering how your body and your voice communicate, being part of an entire image, and how you will tell that story visually, I achieved this character. I never imagined it would be something I would have to use in such an important Star Wars project.

 On the list of entertainment greats, there are names like Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, do you think John Favreau's should be added to the list?

I think his name is already included. Without a doubt, it's in that category and it's amazing. I'm fascinated by his vision. I remember a chapter in the second season, and I had some boots and I walked so much in the snow, that it stuck to them. He noticed, so he talked to the art department about the kind of boots you need when you're in the snow. They came up to me and gave me some new ones that fulfilled the idea I was looking for. He noticed it in an instant. It is such a wonderful detail and is repeated at scale in every session with it. Think of absolutely everything and your vision of using technology is admirable. He's someone who makes you feel motivated and always sees how to achieve the goal.

 One of the reflections of the series is on how and under what circumstances a man can break his creed and the way he lives. What makes you break up with your beliefs?

I think you must follow your heart so as not to repent of anything; even if it sometimes brings pain or conflict, deep down when you go back, it's all worth it because it's what you heard in your heart. I'm very afraid to deny that feeling or not to take care of it. Now I'm 45 years old and I can't believe I have a finer philosophy. Make him more disciplined. It's ridiculous, but I'm trying to accept that I am and that's all I can say, "Follow your heart." Although, you know, I still don't follow a good diet, I still have trouble sleeping or exercising.

 Are you still good at Chilean empanadas?

Yes, I couldn't stop. And also how good that I don't live in Mexico City because I would only spend it eating. I could move my whole life to the defe just to eat.

 I want to deviate and ask you, who did you see the chapter of your death in Game of Thrones and what trauma did you cause to your family?

For me, no trauma. I separate myself well from the characters, although I fully understand that if I were a Game of Thrones audience and loved that character, it would make an incredible impression on me. Thank you, it wasn't. I had to interpret it and there was a model of my head to be crushed that way with the tubes and the fake blood, you know? I lay there, with pieces of my flesh, it was funny in the end. But not for my family. There's nothing funny about them and it's traumatic. My dad totally changed his voice when we saw the episode, turned around and said, "I didn't like it, Pedro. No, Pedro, not this."

 The media found similarities between your villain in Wonder Woman: 1984 and Donald Trump. When you play a character with characteristics like that, do you humanize or understand it?

The project had nothing to do with the former president. I was always told that my character in Wonder Woman:1984 was emotionally messy, and I took that and took it as far away as possible. Instead of creating it with images or certain inspirations from life, it was more working with what was on the page. Personally, what made sense to me is the size of the story being told and there's always more, and we all want more. Creatively, if this makes sense, that meant "flying it out of the park." Connect a hit with the character and be committed to telling their story faithfully, in a way that was true to me. So all the exterior elements found their way.

 What way to start 2021 with the theme of the Capitol... how do you perceive that moment?

I am not a politician and it is not that I have no opinion on such events; However, there is no need to express the obvious. My opinion would be very simple compared to that of a person who studied this, who knows how to act in these kinds of scenarios; I think I'm next to the majority who lived this, which is the logical result of what we've been through over the years and we're all horrified. It was distressing to see this violence.

 If you had the monolith in your hands, what would be your wish?

My wish would be... it's impossible, the truth (laughs). I think it's being together again, with less fear and people having a chance to connect.

 What is your position of the reality that Chile has experienced in recent years and how has the relationship with your country been since exile?

It's something I'm developing and I keep doing it in my life, trying to understand that it's my home. Being in Chile is being at home, but my life has been very nomadic, living different things and having many influences; so it's strange, I don't feel the title of a full Chilean identity or an American.

 Neither from here nor there?

In a sense, but I'm also completely both. My parents are Chileans, my brothers were born there before my parents traveled, and I returned sometimes because my family is so big; in fact, my parents came back. It's always been there, it's still developing, and it's going to be a part of me. I don't know if I answer your question, but it has a lot to do with who I am.

 What is your relationship with Latin American cinema? Interested in you?

A lot, it's invaded me in life like American cinema. The movies I have in my heart, seeing something like And your mom was also something that changed me; I also love the work that comes out of Chile, and all I can say is that it is a cinema that needs more access and projects.

You got a comedy with Nicolas Cage on your doorstep today, can you tell me something?

It's my first chance at comedy, as a complete story within the genre. Speaking of American influences, in the 1980s I saw all the films where Nicolas Cage was coming out, he came into my life and it's great to be his partner after seeing all his performances.

 What's your relationship with the comedy genre like?

I love it, I've done a lot of comedy in the theater, what happens is that in film and television themes, I was always part of drama castings. And in the cinema, you go where the doors open; although I identify with one or the other, I think being an actor, you go and do what you have to do. Comedy is something unique, it's very challenging because it has to be very real to make it funny, you can't hide or use normal tricks. I was very excited to have this challenge in front of a camera.

 Finally, Pedro, after going through so many fictional worlds, literally, what do you dream of when you sleep?

I dream that my bathroom is dirty, that I haven't done my math homework, that the oven and all that stuff are on. Of course, there are times when I close my eyes and see myself in all these projects, although my conscience is with the anxieties of the day you can imagine.

[husheduphistory]

The Hanging and the Hermit: The Tragic Timing of William Wilson

Just southwest of Hummelstown, Pennsylvania is a place carved by nature and visited by humans for hundreds of years. The caves have had many names, Wilson Cave, Hummelstown Cave, Stoverdale Cave, Giant’s Cave, Indian Cave, and the most recent moniker, Indian Echo Caverns. Since 1929 the caves have been open to the public with tours regularly walking through and marveling at the natural wonders. Hundreds of thousands of people walk the cavern paths each year, but what some may not know is that one corner of the caves houses a story of betrayal, desperation, exile, and death.

The Indian Echo Caverns. Image via Wikipedia.

William “Amos” and Elizabeth Wilson (also known as Harriet) were siblings born in Lebanon, Pennsylvania in the late 1700s. The pair were born two years apart but they were extremely close, remaining in contact as much as possible after William left home at sixteen to become an apprentice stone cutter. When Elizabeth later left home at the age of eighteen she journeyed to Philadelphia where part of her path becomes murky. Some say that she became a servant in the home of a wealthy family, others say she found work at the Indian Queen Tavern. What is known for certain is that during her time in Philadelphia her tragic fate was sealed. Elizabeth met a young man by the name of Smith and by 1784 she had at least one child with him, many accounts reporting that she had twins. The problem was that Smith was already married and had no intention of continuing his life with Elizabeth or the children. In October 1784 Elizabeth went missing for several days. When she returned the children were gone and Elizabeth was unable to speak.

Within days the horrific fate of her infants was revealed when their bodies were found in the woods by a hunter. With the discovery came the accusations, all of which were sharply pointed toward Elizabeth. The authorities acted quickly, arresting Elizabeth and committing her to prison to await trial for the murder of her babies. When the day arrived for the young woman to face a judge the courtroom was bursting at the seams with many people who knew Elizabeth well and could not believe, refused to believe, that she was capable of the accusations before her. The numbers did not sway anything in her favor and after eleven hours the judge handed down the ultimate sentence. Elizabeth Wilson would hang on December 7th 1785.

Far from the fury and horror of the courthouse, William did not learn of the accusations against his sister until after her sentencing was handed down. Arriving at the jail on December 3rd, William was finally able to convince Elizabeth to speak and her words revealed what he believed to be the true story. According to William, Elizabeth told him that on that horrible October day Smith contacted her, asked her to meet him, and told her to bring the children along. While walking through the woods en route to their meeting he surprised Elizabeth, killed the babies and then attacked her, telling her that if she ever spoke of the incident he would kill her as well. The shock of the ordeal plunged her into a severe state of trauma rendering her unable to speak and therefor unable to defend herself against any accusation in court. William knew his sister, he believed his sister, and now he took it upon himself to set her free.

William had only four days to save Elizabeth’s life. Riding from town to town, he began voraciously gathering information, talking to witnesses and judges, and building the case for her innocence. He finally made his way to the Commonwealth’s executive authority, the Supreme Executive Council, and plead his case for a pardon for Elizabeth. Here William was partially successful, gaining the support of Council Vice-President Charles Biddle. Biddle felt certain about  Elizabeth’s innocence and the rest of the Council, although not as convinced as Biddle, decided to grant a stay of execution to allow William to further build his case. The execution was rescheduled for January 3rd 1786 and for the Wilson siblings the clock began counting down.

Charles Biddle.

William continued his pursuit of information and some accounts say that he tracked down Smith who claimed he never even met Elizabeth. It didn’t matter, William had witnesses connecting him to Elizabeth and he was prepared to bring their names to the Council. William may have felt he won the fight, but before he could deliver the new information an illness derailed him just before Christmas. William recovered but his deadline loomed dangerously close, it was now the day before Elizabeth was scheduled to hang.

With only hours left William arrived at the home of the Supreme Executive Council President, Benjamin Franklin. Franklin directed him to the home of Biddle and believing fully that Elizabeth would be pardoned with just a little more time, Biddle wrote another stay of execution, “Do not execute Wilson until you hear further from Council.” William had fifteen miles between him and the execution site in Chester, Pennsylvania. He jumped on his horse and rode.

The ride to Chester was hindered by everything imaginable. A violent storm thrashed all around William and when he arrived at the Schuylkill River he was faced with a tragic set of circumstance. The storm had already destroyed the bridges, ferry boats were not running, and the river tossed in front of him with no way to cross. After pacing the riverbank for a time he made his move, attempting to cross on horseback, but the horse could not complete the crossing. He finally threw himself into the freezing water, swimming across with the stay of execution in hand. William made it across, found another horse, and raced toward the jail, but it was too late. When he arrived at the execution site his sister was hanging from the gallows. Realizing what his appearance meant and seeing the stay of execution her body was cut down by the sheriff and they attempted to revive her but Elizabeth was gone, dying only minutes before William’s arrival with the paper that would have saved her life.  

An illustration showing the arrival of William at the execution site. The word appearing above his head reads “A Pardon”.

The murder of her children stunned Elizabeth into temporary silence but the death of Elizabeth completely rocked William to his core. For months he remained in a state of semi-delirium, unable to reconcile in his mind the many strikes that pushed his sister to her death only moments before he could have saved her. When he recovered from the shock William declared that he no longer had any interest in the outside world. He wandered the region in solitude until he found a cave hidden inside a forest twelve miles from Hummelstown, Pennsylvania.

William made the caverns his home for nineteen years, creating a living space out of one room where he kept a table, a stool, a few utensils, and a bed of straw gathered on a ledge ten feet from the ground that he accessed with a simple ladder. Among his few possessions he kept a copy of the Bible which he studied from in between his regular morning and evening church services. For the remainder of his life he was a mostly solitary man deeply committed to cleanliness, reading, and writing. He was a prolific writer, penning many pieces but never sharing them with anyone, intending for them to be published only after his death. He claimed he was content with his life, never desiring to be involved with the world and people around him. The death of his sister gave him “a wound which they can never heal.”

The ledge where William slept. Image via flickr user Sherrie.

One of the few people to encounter William on a semi-regular basis was a farmer who paid him to do odd jobs and to carve millstones. On October 13th 1821 William did not show up to the farm so the farmer went looking for him. When he arrived at the cave he found the remnants of a fire, one of the many William regularly lit under his stone ledge to keep warm in the chilly cave. Laying in the straw was a lifeless William, likely taken by smoke inhalation.

According to reports, William was buried in an unmarked grave on the farmer’s property. It was only after his death that the farmer learned his friend’s story after finding numerous writings and William’s journal detailing the tragic tale of his sister. Among his many writings was a manuscript entitled The Sweets of Solitude: Instructions to Mankind How They May Be Happy in a Miserable World, published posthumously as William intended.

An illustration of The Pennsylvania Hermit.

Today a visit to the Indian Echo Caves costs less than twenty dollars and promises a breathtaking look into the natural hidden wonders of Pennsylvania. Reviews include words like “pleasant”, “beautiful”, and “wonderful”, all well deserved praises. Less easy to find among the guest comments is the tragic tale of William Wilson, “The Pennsylvania Hermit” who was minutes from saving one life and spent nineteen years of his own living in the caves with only his memories, his regrets, and a “wound” the outside world could “never heal.”

In 1839 the story of William Wilson was published in an account that included his manuscript The Sweets of Solitude: Instructions to Mankind How They May Be Happy in a Miserable World, it can be read here.

[weaver-of-fantasies-and-fables]

TGOA Worldbuilding: Fashion and Culture in the Major Cities

Okay so I said I would be back and here I am. In these past few weeks I’ve been drowned in exams, working on stuff for Rome Pride Parade, another couple of demonstrations and marches, a two-day-long dance recital. I am DEAD. But as writers often do, I am back to haunt y’all with a little worldbuilding based on some sketches I did for my instagram page. Which I will pick back up soon I SWEAR.

So let’s begin! This post is going to be kind of long so make sure you have time! I’ll throw in a Read More after the first city.

Malnova, the Ancient

The town was unkept and brimming with criminality and death and illness.

But its past was glorious and, if one paid attention and knew enough to look for it, it emerged from the shroud of ignorance and wilful denial that was its shield and its prison. Scio had learned all about it as a child walking about with her beloved master, and now she did her best to transmit that wonder to her companion, wanting her to see Malnova as it once stood, wise and uncorrupted.

Scio had always been fascinated by the views hidden within the serpentine alleys of the centre. Ancient, almost-forgotten ruins of the world that once had been rested under a layer of dust in-between the villas of the rich. White marble spilled into the streets, reflecting the faces of the present and the past alike.

Malnova is the heart of the Knights’ rule, and even though the land can be counted more or less as being a confederacy of different cities, it’s in Malnova that the majority of political functions are held and decisions taken. As it serves the practical function of a Capital city, it’s constantly suffering a barrage of trends and input from the rest of the nation, which makes it difficult for it to maintain its specificity. Malnova’s ways are set in stone: it’s easily the most conservative city of all, both in practices and in fashion; religious imagery is woven in every aspect of its citizens’ lives. Sun’s colors are everywhere, and so are her statues, often depicting her as a merciless warrior seeking vengeance and punishing sinners with the righteous fury of her fire. The ruins of Malnova’s past (before the Knights) are left to rot in their squalid, paling splendour, and their meanings and purpose have been forgotten and buried; the people wander among their marble skeletons that have become voiceless and forget themselves as well.  Guilt and a very accented sense of duty are Malnova’s key words - interspersed with the promise of blessings to those who behave in accordance to the Law. Probably because of this, it’s precisely in Malnova that most of the rebels of the land are born and gather: an immense web of revolutionaries mingles inextricably with its underworld of delinquency and poverty, but it has expanded to reach even the upper class, mostly thanks to privileged university students who embrace the cause of liberation from the Knights’ near-dictatorship.

Scio, Milda and Koro grew up in Malnova.

Kristina, the Crystalline

Kristina was resplendent in the bright colours of the midday sun when they passed underneath its solar glass walls, watching its iridescent reflexes from afar, from the lowest section of the cliff it was perched upon; they stood where the evergreen trees gave way to a softer vegetation that morphed slowly into a collection of colourful pebbles, sleeping by the ocean.

It had been universally agreed in the past twenty years or so that there was no city finer than Kristina, nor more religious – only within its walls stood more than three hundred Shrines, not including the small, private ones, each unique and beautiful, reflecting the many facets of a faith that had known so many changes in the course of the centuries. Most of them had been abandoned, left to ruin in solitude like forgotten museums that had no more voice because no one understood their treasures anymore.

Kristina houses the most important temple of the land, the Shrine of Sun Conqueror; relatively new, it was built to celebrate Sun’s victory over Moon, and light prevailing over darkness, justice over cruelty. People from all the land gather there to celebrate four days of fast and prayer each new year: the new year start when the Spring Equinox begins, which is when the mortals place the start of Sun’s rule. The city itself is a work of art: it stands above the cliff where legend says Moon was born, and it has not entirely forgotten its roots of silver moonlight. Crisp veils and watery colours prevail even in this time when Moon is banished, and Kristina retains its mystical appeal and its role as Muse and Inspiration. Even if Moon, the protector of poetry and music has been turned into a monster, a ghost to chase away, the city still fascinates poets and writers, who gravitate into its orbit almost naturally.  Kristina is also the only city to boast a measure of autonomy from the Knights’ laws: because of this, it has been allowed to keep its public library open, if censored, and its alphabetisation levels are far higher than those of its sister cities.

Klara, probably the greatest poet to ever exist, was born there, and so was Skalo, the youngest and most reasonable of the Knights.

Nevenkita, the Unconquered

There were no imposing palaces in Nevenkita: all the buildings were small, huddled together in a rainbow of coarse bricks and sloping rooftops upon which shone proudly artful mosaics made out of solar glass; most houses were connected by suspended bridges that had become home to tangles of poison ivy and brambles, and on the highest floors sometimes balconies touched while thin strings collected lanterns that hung into the void.

Everywhere were visible the signs of war – it was the stone itself that bore its scars, faithful and supportive of the people that had given blood and soul and tears to defend it. The night spilled velvet into the air, and never had Scio felt it more welcoming or more alive: every shadow, every star, every cloud seemed to ring with it, with the pulsing energy of the mortals, the songs and voices and dances and noises that crowded the quiet, made it sentient and ripe with meaning.

Nevenkita is the only city never to have fallen under the Knights’ rule. Protected by the enchanted forest where the God of Darkness and Dreams used to dwell, by the ocean that Moon commanded and the mountains the Crawlers hide within, the Unconquered receives help and resources from people of the foreign nations, who deem it a point of honor to aid the city in its resistance.  During the course of the decades, Nevenkita has suffered and survived many sieges at the hands of the Knights’ army of Shorina, and has managed to keep its independence. The people of Nevenkita are very well cultured, know the history of the land and have high schooling rates. As opposed to the rest of the cities, Nevenkita’s healthcare system is not only extremely efficient, but entirely free - and Nevenkita’s doctors are known for smuggling medicines and sometimes equipment into the land, and for visiting people illegally (see: Koro). The city is almost single-handedly responsible for keeping the Resistance alive and safe, and receives a constant flux of immigrants escaping the Knights (though most of them later cross the border seeking asylum). The most important figure of the Resistance is Beno, Defìo’s wife; three times the leader of Nevenkita, she has fought nail and tooth ever since she was fifteen in a time where all hope seemed lost, and has attracted a fair number of followers inside the land, too. Her brutal execution has shaken the public to the point of reawakening movements of dissent all across the cities, and she is now considered a war hero. 

Defìo, though exiled, has picked up her legacy.

BONUS: SCIO AND SUNON AS SHORIN AND RI’SAL

Okay this is IT I’m sorry if it’s too long but I needed to sort it all out and why not have you suffer through it as well? That’s what writeblogs are for, right?

Tag list (which I might need to update? I don’t know): @toboldlywrite

@concerningwolves @rosesonneptune @kriss-the-writing-nerd @dreamywritingdragon @lady-redshield-writes @idreamtofreality @toomuchplot @queerloveandspaceships

[starryknight09]

Whatever It Takes Ch. 17/18

Summary:  Peter’s struggling to cope after the loss of Mr. Stark. Everyone keeps telling him it’ll get better and that he needs to move on, but Peter doesn’t want to. He can’t envision a life without his mentor. So when an idea comes to him, he doesn’t hesitate, no matter how crazy it is. He’s going to get Mr. Stark back.

“What exactly are we going to do?” Ned asked.

“Whatever it takes.” Peter answered.

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

“And we have amazing news this morning, although you might’ve already heard it since it’s all anyone has been talking about ever since Pepper Potts—”

“Pepper Stark.” Tony mumbled the correction to himself as he sat on the couch, coffee in hand, watching the network newsperson speak.

“—CEO of Stark Industries, revealed in a press conference last night that Tony Stark is in fact alive.  It bears repeating, so let me repeat it.  Tony Stark, Ironman, the hero who orchestrated the return of all those who had been dusted, myself included, and subsequently prevented the world’s destruction—”

“The universe’s.” Tony corrected again.  They really needed to check their facts.

“—is miraculously alive today after the world has spent the last seven months believing he was dead.  As revealed at the press conference last night, Tony Stark had in fact been in a coma in Wakanda, thought unlikely to recover, until those assumptions were proven incorrect last week.  Mr. Stark has in fact awoken and is currently at home recovering here in New York.  No word yet on if or when he will be addressing the public.  But I’m sure I speak for all of us here in New York and around the globe when I say, thank you Mr. Stark from the bottom of our hearts.”

Tony’s lip twisted in a part smile, part grimace.  He always hated being thanked for things, especially when it was something he actually deserved to be thanked for.  And he knew he should be thinking about when he was going to return to the public eye and give his own press conference, because he’d have to eventually, but right now all he could think about, could worry about, was his kid.

Peter had been making progress in therapy, at least according to his therapist.  The kid himself remained completely mum when it came to the subject.  He never talked to Tony about what they discussed in therapy even when Tony tried to gently prod.  And even though he thought it might help the kid to share with him, he respected Peter’s wishes and his privacy.  Well, Tony respected his privacy as much as he could, given that the therapist shared information with him and then he, in turn, shared it with May. He wasn’t quite sure if Peter knew that part or if he thought May and Tony were completely out of the loop, but he didn’t want to risk the possibility of rocking the boat to find out.

Tony sighed and checked his watch.  It was almost ten in the morning.  He glanced over his shoulder down the empty hallway.  No sign of Peter.  Tony was surprised he was still asleep.   Pepper and Morgan had left hours ago, although they didn’t have to leave as early as they used to when they’d been commuting from the lake house. That was one thing Morgan loved about their new penthouse apartment.  No long car rides.  But it was one of only a few things.  Leaving the solitude of the countryside had been a rougher adjustment for her than he and Pepper had anticipated, but they were making progress.  Tony, for one, loved the new digs.  He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed living in the city until he was back.

And they had found the perfect place.  The location was ideal and the layout was nearly a mirror image of their old penthouse at the top of Stark Tower except homier and sans bar. Peter had spent his first fifteen minutes in the apartment staring out the floor to ceiling windows at the city. Tony had almost forgotten that Peter had never been to the Tower before it’d been sold, and even though the compound had a nice view of nature, it was nothing compared to this.  

The change in location had done nothing to stop Peter’s nightmares though.  Whether at the lake house last week or here in the penthouse this week, Tony had spent every night in Peter’s room, comforting him from nightmares.  He liked to think maybe they were getting less severe, but he was probably deluding himself.  Still, Peter had to be doing somewhat better since his therapist had given him the ok to re-start school on Monday.  Which meant Tony had five more full days with his kid.  And he planned to take advantage of them.  If his kid would ever wake up…

“Hey Tony.” Peter’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts. Speak of the devil.

“Hey kid.” He said back, craning his head around so he could see him.  Peter still had his pajamas on and his hair was sleep mussed, but he looked well rested for once.  Good.

“You hungry?” Tony asked as he turned off the TV and stood, planning to make his kid breakfast or lunch or whatever he wanted.

“Yeah but I just want some cereal.” Peter flashed him a smile.

“You sure?  I can whip something up or we can order something.  Whatever sounds good.”

“Cereal sounds good.” Peter said as he grabbed a box of Lucky Charms out of the pantry.

“You know there’s more sugar than nutrition in that, right?” Tony pointed to the box as he sat back down on the couch.

“Tastes better than the old man cereal you eat.” Peter said, pouring half the box into a mixing bowl.

“Hey who are you calling old?  And oatmeal squares are not old man cereal.”

“Next thing you know you’ll be eating Grape Nuts.”

“What’s wrong with Grapes Nuts?”

“Oh god!  You’re hopeless.” Peter said dramatically with a grin as he finished pouring milk over his cereal.

“Hmm, maybe, but keep it up and I’m going to buy only Grape Nuts from now on.” Tony teased.

“I have four words for you.” Peter glared.  “Cruel and unusual punishment.”

“I prefer to call it creative.” Tony smirked.

Peter rolled his eyes as he crossed the distance between them and plopped down on the couch at Tony’s side.

“What were you watching?” Peter asked around a mouth full of cereal, nodding toward the now black TV screen.

“News drivel.”

“Anything good?”

“They’re celebrating the fact that reports of my demise were greatly exaggerated.”

Peter huffed out a laugh.  “That’s right.  Pepper told everyone you’re alive last night.”

“She did.” Tony nodded and watched with a smirk as Peter continued to eat his cereal from the ridiculously oversized bowl in his lap.

“So…” Peter frowned and paused to finish chewing. “What’s the cover story again?”

“Um something about being in a coma in Wakanda that I somehow miraculously woke up from.  Or whatever. I don’t know.” Tony waved a hand.

“Shouldn’t you probably know the details?” Peter raised an eyebrow at him.

“I will when I have to.  I’m sure I’ll have to do a press conference at some point, but since I’m still recovering,” Tony sank back further into the couch, “I get a temporary stay of execution.  No public appearances for me in the near future.”

“I think it’ll probably be sooner than you think if Pepper has any say.” Peter joked.

“Maybe.” Tony scrunched his nose.  “She did say something this morning about needing to get me out of the house because I was starting to get underfoot.  But in my defense, this place is a little more cramped than the lake house.”

Peter snorted.

“Hopefully she’ll be happier now that I finally got all the wiring done for the downstairs workshop last night.” Tony smiled.  They not only had the entire top floor, they had the floor below it as well for Tony to use as his personal workshop, or as Pepper liked to call it, his tinker space.

“Awesome.” Peter said, smiling around a mouth full of Lucky Charms.

“Yep, so what do you say we head down there when you’re done with breakfast.”

“Sounds good.” Peter nodded and finished munching on the rest of his cereal in silence while Tony looked over a couple e-mails on his phone.

“Um actually there was something I wanted to run by you.” Peter said with a slight furrow of his brow once he swallowed his last bite.

“Ok.  Hit me.” Tony said.  He slid his phone back in his pocket and then frowned when Peter got up and started walking away toward the kitchen.

Tony automatically stood and followed.  He waited, leaning against the kitchen countertop as Peter rinsed off the spoon and bowl before putting them in the dishwasher.

Peter turned and held his hands up, keeping the kitchen island between them as he said, “Ok so hear me out.”

“I’m already sensing I’m not going to like this.” He said, raising his eyebrows.

“Tony.” Peter gave him a frustrated look that was so uncannily similar to the ones Pepper gave him that he almost laughed.  He and Pepper definitely hadn’t donated any genetic material to Peter like they had for Morgan, but they’d been parenting him all the same, and he’d been hanging around with them so much lately that it was starting to show.  He was starting to pick up some of their nuances and mannerisms.  It was freaking adorable.

“Ok I’m listening.” He said, crossing his arms but unable to hold back a smile at the love swelling in his chest at the adorableness that was Peter Parker, thinking nothing could put a hinderance on his good mood.

“I want to go out as Spiderman tonight.” Peter said in a rush.

Ok.  So almost nothing.

“No.” The denial passed his lips without a thought.  It was instant and automatic.

“Tony—” Peter started, borderline whining.

“No Peter.” He repeated, more firmly this time since it seemed like his kid actually had the audacity to argue about this.

“But—”

“You’re not allowed to go to school right now, why in the world would you think I’d let you go out as Spiderman?” Tony interrupted again, frowning.

“But Spiderman’s different than school.” Peter argued.

“It is.  It’s more dangerous.”

“I can handle it.  I just-I need the distraction.  I think it would help with…everything.”

“Like it helped last time?” He asked.  Didn’t Peter get what he was asking?

“That’s not fair.”

Tony could say a lot of things in response to that like how it also wasn’t fair to have to watch your kid almost become a pancake on the ground, but he knew that was the wrong thing to say, so he held back.  He was angry, but he didn’t want to hurt Peter.

So instead, he took a deep breath and tried a different approach.  “Why do you want to go out as Spiderman?”

He tried to ignore the hopeful expression on Peter’s face as he answered, “It helps me get out of my head.  It helps me process things.  And I feel…more alive I guess, more like myself when I’m Spiderman.  And I-I just want to feel like myself again Tony. Please.”

“The answer’s still no.” He said, shaking his head.  “Sorry.”

Anger darkened Peter’s countenance.  “Why’d you even ask if you weren’t going to change your mind?”

“Because I wanted to know.” Tony answered and the bluntness seemed to piss Peter off more.

Peter opened his mouth, probably to yell at him or spew some other deluded rationalization, but Tony held a hand up to stop him before he could.

“Listen kid.” Tony said, keeping his tone even, not letting any of his own frustration bleed in.  “I get what you’re saying.  I do. But listen.  Rule numero uno of superheroing is you don’t go out and risk your life unless you have all your ducks in a row.  That means you’re completely physically and emotionallywell.”

Peter frowned “But—”

Tony could guess what he was going to say.  Tony and every member of the Avengers had personally broken that rule numerous times, so he cut him off before he could.  He held up a finger.  “Let me finish.”

Peter stopped but with a frustrated huff.

“The only time you can break that rule is if it’s truly life or death or if there’s a real possibility of the world ending.  Do get what I’m saying?”

“But people in Queens are dying all the time.” Peter argued.  “They need Spiderman.”

“It’s not the same.” Tony shook his head.

“How is it not?” Peter asked, and Tony could tell he genuinely wanted to know, he wasn’t just trying to be difficult.

“The theoretical possibility of maybe saving one person’s life is not worth yours.” Tony explained.

Peter frowned but seemed to be thinking about Tony’s words.

“If Thanos,” Tony paused to wince, “appeared right now. I’d say, fine.  You’re in.  Because that’s an all hands on deck kind of situation.  Going out on a routine patrol as Spiderman is not the same as that.”

Peter’s face twisted, but he didn’t argue.  Tony skirted around the island and grasped Peter’s shoulders as he looked into his stormy eyes.

“Listen, there are responsibilities we take on as heroes. One of them is accepting that there are going to be things we need to risk our lives for.  Sometimes there are things bigger than us worth dying for. That’s part of the gig.” It hurt Tony to say it because he never wanted to envision his own kid in that type of situation.  “And…some things are worth that sacrifice.”

Peter paled.  No doubt he was thinking of Tony’s own sacrifice.

“But most things are not.  Patrolling as Spiderman is not.” Tony continued, not keeping the harshness out of the words.  “Risking your life when you’re not completely ok isn’t brave.  It’s stupid.  Do you understand?”

Peter nodded reluctantly.

“Good.” Tony nodded.

“When you’re not on your A game you’re not focusing as well.” Tony said, wanting to hammer the point home.  

“And all it takes is one second of distraction and just like that,” He snapped his fingers, “a knife or a bullet slips through and suddenly you’re bleeding out on the ground.”

Peter’s eyes went wide and he jerked backwards, out of Tony’s grasp.

“Pete?” Tony blinked.  He didn’t think his description had been that gruesome, not enough to garner that type of reaction.

He watched as his kid took a few staggering steps back before his feet caught together and he crashed to the ground.

“Pete!” Tony crossed the distance and knelt down beside him in an instant.  He went to grab his shoulder but his kid kept flailing his legs out to propel himself backward and out of reach, as if trying to escape some terrifying threat.

Tony didn’t think he was trying to escape him but the fear was still unsettling to witness.  Peter ran out of space a few seconds later.  His back slammed against the bottom of the kitchen cabinets, and then his head cracked against them when he tried to throw himself further away even though there was nowhere to go.  Tony winced at the sound of it.

“Jesus.” Tony mumbled and moved to Peter’s side.  He put a hand up between his kid’s skull and the cabinets in case he tried to do it again.  

“Hey Pete.  Peter. Look at me.”  He ordered, and palmed Peter’s cheek, trying to direct his gaze toward him.  It didn’t work.  Peter kept staring straight ahead, eyes wide with terror as his breaths came out in short, rapid pants.

“Oh shit.” Tony swore as he finally realized what was going on. Some type of flashback or panic attack. Maybe both.  He couldn’t believe it’d taken him so long to recognize it given his own experience with them.  He hated the thought of Peter suffering like he had, but he put that emotion on the backburner for now and focused on trying to help his kid.

When Peter didn’t seem to be at risk of cracking his head open anymore, Tony shifted so he was kneeling directly in front of him, face at eye level.  He cradled his kid’s face in his hands and spoke, keeping his tone soft and soothing, “Hey kiddo.  You’re safe. You’re here with me.  You’re not there.  You’re in New York in this awesome penthouse Pepper found us.  And I’m here with you.  Do you hear me Pete?  Peter?”

The glazed over look in Peter’s eyes slowly started to fade, and after another handful of seconds, he blinked and refocused on Tony’s face in front of him.

“Tony?” He whispered, sounding scared but hopeful at the same time.

“Yeah.” Tony gave him a wan smile.  “Are you with me?”

Peter glanced around in confusion, taking in his place on the kitchen floor, before meeting Tony’s eyes again.  “I think so?”

He looked a little more with it but his breath was still coming out in pants.

“Ok.” Tony dropped one of his hands from Peter’s cheek to grab his kid’s hand and bring to his chest.  “You’re still breathing a little fast there buddy.  Can you feel my breathing and try to match it to yours?”

Peter nodded and Tony brushed his hair back with his other hand and then left it planted at the base of his neck.

“Ok.  In…and out. Good.  Deep breath in…and out.  You got it kiddo.  Good job. In.  Out.  In. Out.” Tony coached him, ignoring the pain in his knees from the position.

“There.” Tony said once Peter’s breathing had finally gotten back to normal.  “Better?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Tony said seriously before asking, “Do you know what happened?”

“Yeah.  I-I kind of freaked out.”

Tony hummed.  

“This time was a lot worse than last time.”

“Last time?  What do you mean last time?  When was there a last time?” Tony frowned, unable to keep the alarm out of the questions.

“Remember that time I texted you from the bathroom at school?”

“You mean the time you said you were fine.  That was after something like this happened?”

“Um…yeah?”

“Jesus.” Tony pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Are you mad?” Peter asked anxiously.

“No.  I’m not—” He paused to take a deep breath himself.  “I’m not mad.  I’m just…this is the kind of thing you need to tell me about.”

“I texted you.”

Tony shook his head in disbelief.

“And like I said, it wasn’t this bad.” Peter added.

“I told you I’d pick you up.”

“I didn’t need you too.”

“Peter,” Tony said with exasperation, “you had a panic attack and you stayed in school.  That’s the sort of thing you take the rest of the day off for.”

Peter’s face pinched with skepticism, which almost would’ve been cute if the topic hadn’t been so serious.  “A panic attack?”

“Yeah.” Tony nodded and brushed a hand through Peter’s hair again.  “That’s what that was kid.”

Peter blinked and looked at him with wide eyes.  “How do you know?”

“Used to get them myself.”

“Really?  You did?”

“Yeah.  After New York.” He didn’t bother specifying since he knew Peter would understand what he meant.  “And then again later…after Thanos.  After losing you.”

Peter sucked in a breath of air.  “Oh.  I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Tony gave him a tight smile and held out a hand. “But what do you say we get off the floor?”

“Ok.” Peter took his hand.

Tony grasped it and stood, pulling Peter up with him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“Let’s sit down and talk.” Tony said, guiding them back toward the couch.

“But the workshop.” Peter protested half-heartedly.

“The workshop can wait.  This is more important.”

They sat down and Tony kept an arm draped around his kid.  Peter leaned into his hold.  They’d gone from arguing to practically cuddling in the span of under ten minutes.  It was enough to give Tony emotional whiplash.

“How many of these have you had?” Tony asked quietly.

“Just the two.” Peter snorted, unamused.  “Isn’t that enough?”

Tony hummed in response, and after a few seconds of silence he asked, “Does Ruth know about the other one?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.  I didn’t think of it.” Peter shrugged.  “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Tony took another calming breath.  He didn’t know how his kid could have a panic attack and then label it in his mind as not a big deal even if he hadn’t known what it was at the time.

“Do you want to tell Ruth about it or should I?” Tony asked. Peter’s therapist was coming over later that afternoon.

“Um…can you do it?”

“Sure kid.  Do you know what set it off?” He asked.  He knew Ruth would want to know and he wanted to know himself.

Peter nodded against his shoulder.  “Yeah, um, it was the same thing both times.”

Tony frowned as he tried to figure out what he could’ve said or done to trigger that kind of reaction.  

Before he could ask him, Peter asked hesitantly, “Can you maybe try not to snap your fingers around me anymore?  At least for a little while?”

Tony’s breath caught in his throat and he stiffened. Peter sensed it and turned wide eyes on him.

“Um is that ok?” He asked anxiously.

“Yeah.  Of course it’s ok.” Tony answered quickly and then shook his head in frustration at himself. “Shit kid.  I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.��� Peter mumbled.

But it wasn’t.  Tony should’ve thought of that, but it hadn’t even been on his radar. Probably because even though he’d watched the video playback, he hadn’t actually been the one to do it.  Other Tony had, or his later past self, or whatever.  Regardless, the last time Peter had seen him snap his fingers, he’d ended up subsequently dying from it.

“That’s what happened at school too?  Someone snapped their fingers?”

Peter nodded.  “My teacher. And I know it’s stupid.  I know it shouldn’t bother me so much, and it’s completely irrational, but when it happens it’s like everything disappears and all I can see is you.  Snapping. And…dying.”

Tony could tell just talking about it was getting Peter worked up again, so he shushed him and ran a hand down the back of his head. “It’s not stupid.”

“Sure feels like it.” Peter mumbled.

“Well it’s not.  Shit kid, after the alien thing in New York, if someone just said the word space or wormhole around me, I’d freak out.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” Tony kept running fingers through Peter’s hair.

“How’d you get better?”

“Time.  Therapy. Lots of therapy.”

Peter snorted.

“But it gets better kid.  I promise.  Hey, I ended up in space with you, and I completely held it together, remember?”

“I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say that.” Peter teased, obviously feeling better.

“Well no panic attacks at least.” At least none that the kid had seen.  There’d been a couple close calls and one definite breakdown when he’d been stuck on that ship with Nebula on their way back to Earth.

“Yeah.” Peter sighed and Tony could hear the desolation in it.

“Hey.” Tony tapped Peter’s chin with his finger.  “Chin up Underoos.  It’ll get better.  Just give it some time.”

“Seems like it’s taking forever.”

“It’s only been a couple weeks Pete.”

“Yeah weeks.” Peter complained.

Tony smiled.  “Give it a few months and then see where you’re at.  I bet how you feel now compared to how you’ll feel then will be a lot different.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

Peter sighed again but instead of continuing the conversation, he changed the subject and asked, “Can we go down to the workshop now?”

“You sure you’re feeling up to it?”

Peter nodded.

“All right.  Whatever you want kid.” Tony said as he stood.

That got a small smile out of Peter as he followed a step behind him while they walked to the elevator doors.

“I’m going to ask one more thing and then we don’t have to talk about it anymore, ok?” Tony said once they stepped into the elevator.

“Ok.” Peter agreed begrudgingly.

“Do you understand why I don’t think you’re ready to go out as Spiderman yet?” He asked, reaching over to squeeze Peter shoulder so it wouldn’t feel like he was asking to be mean spirited.

“Yeah.” Peter mumbled, staring down at the elevator floor as the doors closed behind them.

Peter mouth twisted.  “I guess it’d be pretty embarrassing if Spiderman died because he was too busy having a meltdown from some bad guy snapping his fingers to defend himself from getting shot.”

Tony’s chest clenched in fear at the visual of that exact situation before he had the wherewithal to chastise Peter.  “Hey.  Don’t talk about yourself that way.”

“Sorry.” Peter said, not sounding sorry at all.

Tony squeezed his shoulder again.  “Remember what I said.  It’ll get better.  Give it time. You’ll be out swinging again in no time.”

“Yeah.” Peter didn’t seem so sure.

“You will.  I promise.” Tony said and patted Peter between the shoulder blades as the elevator doors opened to the workshop.  “Now come on. You can help me with some suit upgrades I’ve been thinking about.”

“Really?” Peter asked with hopeful eyes.  He and Peter had worked together in the workshop all the time before Thanos but he’d rarely let him help with the Ironman suit.

“Yeah.” Tony said as they walked out of the elevator.

“Ok.” Peter grinned, eager excitement lighting up his face.

In that moment, he looked exactly like the old Peter that Tony remembered.  Tony smiled back.  Yeah. His kid was going to get better. He just needed a little more time and some TLC.  And Tony had plenty of both to give now.

[srbachchan]

DAY 3855

Jalsa, Mumbai                    Oct 7,  2018                  Sun 11:37 PM

“मालूम है कोई मोल नहीं मेरा, फिर भी, कुछ अनमोल लोगो से रिश्ता रखता हूँ...”

Many among the non Hindi speakers had wished for a translation of the words of my Father .. and there were some grateful attempts made .. but to me .. pictures speak louder than words .. 

ABOVE ..

The words say .. 

मालूम है कोई मोल नहीं मेरा, फिर भी, कुछ अनमोल लोगो से रिश्ता रखता हूँ...

I do know that I possess no value ; but I do keep a relationship with some very valuable people ..

These the are my valued people .. they that show affection and strength of presence .. that remain in their love for hours each Sunday .. 

.. and each Sunday as the time nears for me to come out to meet all, a fear runs within .. what have I done to receive such admiration, nothing .. in the silence of my solitude at night it often strikes those emotional chords and tears well up .. in such willing emotion that they put aside all else in the World around .. 

people and their love, moves establishments, invaders, conquerors .. mountains and relations .. they fill those vacuumed emptiness within us, with such impressive force that the feel emerges from all the pores , to express, to show and to be imaged in the ‘water of India’  ...

‘water of India’ .. was that eminent world renowned magician PC Sorcar’s oft repeated announcements during his magic shows .. a lota of water remained on a table on stage and every now and then he would turn to it, pick it up and empty it, announcing with aplomb .. ‘water of India’ .. 

he would do it several times during the show, and we would wonder how after emptying the entire lota, there was always water that remained in it .. !!

my ‘water of India’ is my emotion that springs up ever so often as I spend those fine and absorbing moments with the Sunday cheers .. with the applause of the KBC audience .. with the wild screams of recognition in the times gone by when I appeared in public .. I could never understand it .. and still do not .. though the volume and presence has diminished immensely, it still is astonishing for me .. 

.. but it is there .. and I dread that walk down my pathway to an expectation of the audience of well wishers outside the gates .. expectation .. a dreaded word .. for, each of us in each situation values and determines their individual expectation .. some match up some do not .. your own estimate could be brighter than the other or less .. the variation is the one that remains constantly an issue .. below and be mauled, above and be mauled .. 

expectation .. 

we all have our parameters for it .. they are never similar .. I can expect a form for an association .. I can expect a result of a game .. I can expect an analysis of creative work .. all would be welcomed ; all would be destructive too .. the diversity in opinion is what makes us human and being within our limits of them .. I could cross them each day and become advantageously genius , or be deprived of the ultimate limit and become morose and deflated .. one individual, one comment, one opinion has the strength and capacity to execute such .. 

what a wonderful world we exist in ..

... in the world of communicative existence in its prime, we live and breathe each other as never before .. its value and its destructive fears are what we contend with each nano minute ..

.. some extend the strength of character to stare it in the face and not shimmer or flinch .. some succumb .. remain shattered and desolate .. 

what remains, remember, is what we ourselves believe and think of ourselves .. the opinion of the other, shall always be an alien thought .. and never justifiable .. remain then in its cocoon of inevitability .. let the storms beat their lash about you .. stand tall and resolute .. the faith and the power of the singular is beyond compare .. you have it .. all have it .. 

Amitabh Bachchan

[transformeinc-blog]

Home Health Care vs Assisted Living

Home health care is health care that's offered to patients inside their home, and typically by health care professionals or family and friends. The differences here are like the differences between nursing homes and living facilities. Much like assisted living centers, home health care enables seniors enjoy a fantastic measure of independence. An older individual or couple will love having solitude in addition to assistance in daily living requirements.

What kind of services does health care provide? Home health care may assist seniors with dining preparation and daily living needs such as dressing, bathing, house keeping and cooking. Depending upon the needs of the resident, there may be special provisions like volunteer programs and errands, transport services, exercise and walking, and toileting assistance. Extensive kinds of home health care would give rehabilitation programs, such as visits from therapists and nurses. Other home health care professionals might include doctors nurses, social workers, mental health workers and respiratory nurses.

Who pays for house health care? This sort of outdoor assisted private resources can pay living program in household or the resident, by public payers such as Medicaid and Medicare or from health insurance programs. Medicare will not cover home health care on a long term basis, while Medicaid is more inclined to help low-income families with little if any assets. Home health care is very likely to be on a short-term basis unless your insurance program is very generous. The majority of the time home health care will be covered by a family assets.

How can home health care compare at nursing homes and assisted living facilities? Most seniors would prefer home health care, of course, as people always do appreciate their privacy. However, in addition, there are conditions that would demand not, and supervision of the resident at an assisted living facility occasional visits. Home healthcare is assisted living, but with liberty. A resident that cannot be left alone for long periods of time could be better suited in board and care type home or a nursing.

It may seem that a stay in a nursing home would not be cheaper than home health care. But, home health care costs can be just too pricey, based on the amount of hours aides work. Most home health care agencies will cost about $20.00 a hour or so more. If the resident is independent then the charges associated with the service may be controlled. Don't forget that if your needs are minimal to start with, you could employ from paying a service fee, a trustworthy individual to execute the same tasks and conserve money.

Home healthcare is excellent for seniors who can get about and feel but that need occasional doctor visits with housekeeping and assist. It is also a preferable option although full time care is needed by a senior but does not want to be a resident at a nursing home. Full time home health care provides the privacy and personal attention possible. As opening one's house to a stranger could be a security risk, if you're looking for this kind of senior help, you should always be conscious of the qualifications of employees. The home healthcare agencies have screened employees that are qualified in their area.

How We Can Help You

ElderHomeFinders is a business devoted to helping seniors find assistance from the southern California region. We inspect assisted living facilities and retirement communities so that our clients will find the perfect home. Could ElderHomeFinders also help seniors find home health care? Yes. Our company may place you in touch with the home health care agency that is ideal, based on budget limit and your particular needs. We can even advise you on the differences between home health care services and assisted living and board and care facilities and which choice could better work for you. Seniors have worked hard all their life and surely deserve the very best healthcare possible - whether in a senior living facility or within their home.