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inkpot909 · 9 months ago

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First Love Headcanons: Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

↳ Gender neutral Reader with they/them pronouns. Implied the reader is shorter than Bucciarati? Canon-divergent. The reader is not made out to be very morally upright and is hinted at having a rough past.

A/n: Doing another one of these has been on my mind for a while now. Thank you to the lovely person below for the request! I hope y’all enjoy. <3

Warning(s): None.

There’s no time in Bruno Bucciarati’s schedule for a relationship.

Growing up in the mob kept him focused on the ‘family’ that took him in. It was his purpose, and the only reason he was able to support his father as well as himself. Before he learned the truth of the organization’s operations, he felt a pride in even the… messier aspects of his work.

Eventually finding a disconnect between it and his own morals leaves an empty spot in his heart. A shame so deeply buried within him that even the members slowly joining his team know little of it how deeply it affects him.

He now goes on with his work as normal, all while feeling like a bit of a hypocrite. His heart feeling so betrayed it needs little to push him towards full betrayal on his part.

Surely, a relationship would only muddy the waters.

All the cute girls that wave to him as he passes by on the street… who of them would be able to take such baggage? How could he expect anyone to? He wouldn’t have it in him to willingly bring anyone into this lifestyle, if his reluctance to let Narancia join is anything to go by.

Barely an adult and already he’s responsible for a small handful of people. Though, that thought never crosses his mind, as he’s unfortunately felt like an adult for an unfair amount of time.

And despite his own inner turmoil over his position in Passione, he’s formed meaningful relationships through the members of his team.

He’s the connection that binds them together, the head of their group, and by proxy the head of their little family. The purpose that the organization originally gave him now lands on the shoulders of his motley crew.

It’s them that keeps him going in spite of it all.

He finds his heart still beating, still moved each time he brings someone underneath his wing. That alone is good enough for a man like him.

No… there’s no time in Bruno Bucciarati’s schedule for a relationship.

And so, with that thought constantly repeated in his mind, he didn’t at all bat an eye when your own need eventually brought you to Passione’s metaphorical doorstep.

In your mind, it must’ve felt like fate.

Reaching for assistance at lowest point, you were subtly pointed toward one Bruno Bucciarati.

You don’t know what you expecting from the mafioso. A degree of harshness or coldness, perhaps. Only to be greeted with a hearty meal and an understanding personality so moving you fell into the trap of the mob right then and there.

How could you hope not to? When all you saw in that moment was a pair of gentle blue eyes looking at you with unspoken empathy, allowing you to speak freely despite his status as a gang leader.

So when he gave you an offer, you could only accept with newfound vigor.

The next couple of days felt like a blur, a change to your very view of your own psyche is made when it is suddenly able to manifest something you soon knew to call a stand. It is life altering to you, yet mundane to Bucciarati.

That kept you grounded.

Exiting a prison, golden broach in your hand, there’s no pit in your stomach that usually occurs when you lie straight to someone’s face. You had looked up at Polpo- an impossibly intimidating capo -and told him a lie. Said you’d kept the lighter on for 24 hours, and he… took your word for it, creepily enough.

You’re observant, able to discern that you were never meant to actually keep the lighter on the whole time, that the goal all along was to acquire a stand.

Distantly, you remember telling yourself as you left the prison that you ought to grow accustomed to lying anyways.

You didn't chose the mafia to be a player in your future, but life hardly goes the way people want.

And lying to a man like Polpo really didn’t feel like it counted anyways.

Still, Bruno’s reaction to your own twisted priorities was a darkly comforting one. It made you feel better about the coming days ahead:

Bruno Bucciarati finds himself checking his watch a third time, standing just a few yards away from a prison’s main entrance. Not many people like to pass by the looming building, leaving him alone and not likely to be recognized by anyone- Passione member or not.

He sighs, This should not be taking this long.

There’s only so much he can check the area around him before he starts looking suspect. Not that there’s much hustle and bustle in the surrounding area to distract himself with. A familiar impatience bubbles within his stomach, one that only occurs when he’s about to introduce his team to a new member.

Well… hopefully.

Before he starts growing gray hairs, he hears the prison gate creak open. Turning his head, he finally notices your figure exiting the large entrance with prison guards escorting you.

A smile finds its way onto his face, a gesture you return as you approach him. Once the gate is closed, and the two of you are left without any watchful eyes, you subtly gesture with your arm. The action causes his attention to move towards your hand that shows off a little golden broach in your hand.

He gives a nod, and you don’t waste time before shoving the little piece of gold into your pocket. Just as you do, you halt your footsteps- now standing close enough to hold a casually quiet conversation.

Every one of your movements are noticed and dissected within his mind, something you clearly understand just by looking at your poised body language. That, or you’re still on alert from talking to Polpo.

“I was beginning to think I’d have to go in there myself,” he jests lightly, though there’s not much actual humor in his voice. “Afraid I’d find you there attempting to choke the capo out.”

“The thought didn’t cross my mind,” you reply, a trying smile playing on your lips. You appear much more collected than the day you first met him, a detail he’s glad to see. “That would be an awful first impression of my own loyalty, wouldn’t it?”

Ah, so either Y/n is simply that nervous, or Polpo’s words actually got to them. Bruno shakes the thought off, as the distinction is not worth dwelling over right at this moment.

“One of your new teammates was damn near close to trying to pull a stunt like that in the past-“ he doesn’t miss how your eyes brighten up at his roundabout way of welcoming you to his team. You joining it went without saying, but the subtle omission being enough to make you look so inspired is something he can already tell he’ll find endearing about your personality. “-But no matter… walk with me, please.”

You do as you’re asked, something Bruno does not care take note of.

It's the one part of your behavior he doesn't quietly run through his brain. It’s your first day after all, he’ll see in a weak how well you actually listen to him. His experience with the others has taught him as much.

“I do have to admit…” you speak up when he doesn’t, “Lying to him didn’t make me feel bad at all.”

He turns to you, something flickering in his gaze before he lets out a soft chuckle. His smile now seems a little less formal, and the amusement on his face looks more natural. “If that’s an omission of guilt, then you’ll be an interesting change of pace.”

“It is,” you admit, figuring there’s no need to put up a front for a man this observant, “Lying to someone is almost worse than killing them.”

“How do you figure?” Bruno raises an eyebrow, not batting an eyelid at your statement. Honestly, the first time the two of you met, your words were much more morbid.

“Well… lying leaves room for feelings to stir within me or the person of interest. It lets emotions fester inside of people. Killing stops all regrets or feelings of betrayal- stopping everything, you understand? That, I can live with. A bad mark on my heart I find more difficult to walk away from."

It’s no surprise he’s silent after that, but his hesitation does take you off guard.

Oh, god, was that too loose-lipped? It’s easy to feel comfortable around Bucciarati. Far too easy. He’s the type of man that makes people inclined to open up. You always talked casually before about macabre things. Isn’t that normal for a mafioso? What if-

“No need to be nervous, L/n; I’m already impressed by you. You’ll do well with us.”

Oh.

Something about his words, spoken so calmly without even looking over at you, have a calming effect to them. Just a week into knowing him, and already you’re slowly growing accustomed to his genuine yet subdued warmth.

As Bruno drones on about Passione and its systems- more specifically his duties that directly trickle down into being your duties -you can’t help but let your mind wander a little to a distinction you made when you first met him.

Bruno Bucciarati’s fundamentally different.

There’s a kindness to him you never would’ve expected from someone in a gang. It kept you nodding along as you spoke, and distantly you felt as though your entire future is in the palm of his hand.

And scarily enough, you were fine with that.

Him being a sort of exception was a thought you assumed yourself to be mad for making, at least, until you found out the others on the team noticed the exact same thing.

All while Bruno himself only looks at you and sees your potential to grow.

A place in his team… something that he’s always well-spotted. An intuition he’s not once been wrong with before, so there’s a degree of confidence there as well that rubs off on you.

You got his attention in a familiar way, and after you join the team, you’re his responsibility and his purpose- just as the others are.

He’s just your leader. Nothing more, nothing less.

That said, he grows to appreciate the genuine gratefulness you offer him in a… special way.

The others are thankful for him too, and he knows that fact, but it’s nice to here the sentiment so openly and often in nature. And in the tones of your voice, it’s especially calming.

He’s really just making excuses for himself, but it was early on enough where it was okay.

That’s what’ll first make Bruno truly see you as not only a member of his team, but a member of his little found-family. The not-so-subtle ways you show that you want to be with them and a part of what they do… how could he hope to not find that charming?

Your softer side, however you chose to express it, is never missed by a man like Bruno. He easily recognizes it, and almost immediately respects you for it.

Hell, after a while, he relies on you for it.

There’s little in his life that’s more grounding than a gentle expression, thick with anticipation, displayed on your face after each mission you’re not a part of.

You always check up on the returning members as soon as possible, making sure everyone is up and moving. “I won’t be able to relax unless I see for myself that you’re all okay,” he recalls you saying on the matter. The fact that it’s how you treat everyone on the team only makes the relaxing feeling sink in deeper.

It’s not long before he sees you as a genuine soul, and he’d consider himself to be a fool if he didn’t recognize that.

Since the very beginning, Bruno’s personality has touched you emotionally. And although he always saw a sort of spark in you, getting to really know you- becoming your friend in tantum with acting as your superior -allows him to see that little spark for what it actually is.

Genuine care for the people you’re close to. An eye for good natured people, and a responding gentleness. Couple that with a darker, more proactive role during missions or anything work-related, and Bruno finds himself falling back on you more than he’d care to admit.

The others, though? They have no hang-ups over mentioning it. It gets to a point where- specifically Fugo, Mista, and Narancia -start to complain about Bruno showing you a degree of ‘special treatment.’

Mista and Narancia’s complaining jabs are easily shot down with only a look, but Fugo proved to be a lot more serious about it.

To the extent to where an argument or two emerges between them. Fugo insistant in his observations, trying to get Bruno to at least admit he treats you differently than the rest. But Bruno remained headstrong, stubborn in his belief that he would always treat his subordinates equally.

He’s just your boss. Nothing more, nothing less.

In the months that pass, when you’ve since naturally found your place on the team, at what point did that start to be the common refrain playing in his mind?

At what point does he go from insisting he has no time for a relationship at all, to continuously having to remind himself he’s your boss?

And that question alone tugs at his heartstrings in a manner he’s not quite used to. It’s a delightful feeling, but it is foreign.

For a man like Bruno Bucciarati, it’s not so much a refusal to believe he could be developing feelings, but a worry if he should even do anything about the attraction.

That said, it does take him some time to realize his own feelings due to his position as a boss to you and out of sheer unfamiliarity with the subject.

He’s not too obvious as to receive knowing looks from the others whenever he’s around you (Which is often). Hell, Mista even admitted to him much later that Narancia didn’t even notice until Fugo told him to start paying attention.

And after a certain point, Bruno has to admit it to himself and does so with surprising ease. It may have taken some time, he may have been stubborn speaking with Fugo, but he won’t continue to lie to himself. He’s old enough to know when he needs to swallow his pride and admit Fugo was onto something, if only a little.

And after that point of realization, his own love language starts to naturally shine through a bit more.

Bruno generally prefers acts of service and quality time when showing his affection. Cheeky and openly flirtatious, you may have assumed he’s been in relationships before given his confidence.

He’s always had a special care for you when it comes to missions... but now he finds himself offering to help you with grocery shopping. Or paying for a maid to clean up your home when you’ve had a particularly busy week, and offhandedly mentioned needing to clean once.

What? You thought he would forget? That only makes him chuckle smugly, prompting him to lean to eye-level and ask you, “What kind of man do you think I am?”

It seems like he remembers everything that pours from your lips. Always listening to you intently, and never brushing you off.

And during down time, Bruno naturally finds himself preferring to spending it in your company. A lot. Preferably alone, thank you very much.

The two of you even began to start watching TV shows with one another. And neither of you would dare to watch ahead without the other. It’s usually true crime shows, comedies, or shitty soap operas.

All this time with you after realizing his feelings... and they only grow- to his personal panic. The more he stays at your side the more he would hate to ever leave it.

So this is what it's like... he remembers thinking while lounging around, and watching a movie with you one evening. This is.... what I’ve been missing my whole life.

As beautiful as the feeling you bring him is, should he... really do anything about it?

He can see that look in your eyes when it’s just the two of you, a gleam that speaks of an internal joy you’re not sharing with him just as he refuses to share with you.

He gets a sneaking suspicion that you like him the exact same way he’s grown to adore you. And Christ almighty- what’s he supposed to do with that?

Yet, even though you’re a part of Passione, meaning he needs not to stress over bringing you into something so dangerous unwillingly... he is still hesitant.

His care for you so often is expressed through worry, something he usually handles with authority and maybe even harsh words if he deems it necessary.

But this is far more personal, and he can only mull it over by himself. He’s not the type to bring it up to others, not even Abbacchio.

If he reached for you... and the two of you began something real; something official... it would be a no-brainer for enemies to target either of you in order to send some sort of message.

He can’t stand the thought of your broken heart, and absolutely refuses to think of something like that happening to you.

Then again, if a bit morbid, he eventually realizes the result would still be the same with the way things are now. Only, it’d be coupled with Bruno's deep regret over not having said anything to you.

He can only wonder if you’d feel the same, and at the end of the day, he really does think that would be the case.

And it’s around the time he’s fully digesting this, that you end up genuinely taking him aback. Acting before he can begin convincing himself to make the first move:

Giorno, Fugo, and Mista walk behind Bucciarati, looking up at him in silent awe.

If you were to look into each of their eyes, you could likely peace together what they’re thinking while looking upon the freshly appointed capo. Opportunity twinkles within their gazes, all coming from a sincere place of respect for their leader.

You, however, are not looking at them.

As Bruno approaches the rest of his team, anticipation turns into cheers and hollers of excitement from the others standing next to you. Abbacchio has the widest smile on his face you’ve seen since Giorno entered the picture, yet your gaze stays glued onto Bruno throughout the nearly youthful display of glee.

He’s noticeably silent and calm. It’s like there’s no off switch to him- likely already going through the duties now landing on his lap due to his promotion within his mind. He’s not going to want to take the night off, no doubt wanting to get down to business.

Your heart swells despite the slight strain on it. It’s so like him to be that way in a time like this, but… I can’t help but wish he’d celebrate… if only a little, you find yourself thinking.

“Mista… guys, please,” Bruno tries to calm the two (In all honesty, Giorno’s ‘celebrating’ amounted to simply smiling) excited boys walking beside him, waving his hand.

Mista goes on about how everyone must celebrate somehow, still lecturing as they finally approach and reunite with the rest of the group. His words go over Bruno’s head, however, a fond smile making its way onto his face when he turns to meet your gaze.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from him finally achieving the well-deserved position. Feeling so proud of him that your body jerks forward without thinking. Maybe it’s the excitement of everyone else rubbing off on you, and simply causes you to act without thinking.

All you do care to think as your feet move you right up to Bruno is, To hell with it. If he won’t start celebrating on his own; I’m making him celebrate.

Bruno opens his mouth to speak as you move well within his personal space, but is cut off by the swift movement of your hand tightly grabbing the collar of his jacket. One good tug of your arm and your pulling him toward you, lips meeting with his eyes widely open in surprise.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”

Fugo’s exclamation, along with startled gasps from everyone else melt away the moment you feel Bruno melt into the kiss and reciprocate.

He follows your lead, gently sighing against your lips when you neglect to take your hand off his collar. His arms, which you’ve always found to be so comforting, snake around your waist. He keeps you securely in his hold, and your other hand flies to cup his jaw.

After a moment or two, the kiss breaks. Bruno looks at you as you pull away, eyes still wide and mouth gently agape. It’s enough to make you chuckle, seeing him so cutely taken aback by both your and his own spontaneous actions.

“Congratulations, capo,” you smoothly whisper, finally removing yourself from his hold. “You earned it.”

“I-… thank you, Y/n,” he responds softly, a smile growing on his face.

As much as you’d like to hold onto the gentle intimacy of the moment you just shared with him, movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. Shifting your gaze, you catch a glimpse of Fugo silently sliding some cash over to a smug-looking Abbacchio.

No… they didn’t…

“Did you-“ you breath, embarrassment beginning to boil inside your stomach and fuel the rising volume of your voice, “-Did you assholes bet on us!?”

“It’s Fugo’s fault for assuming Bucciarati would make the first move,” Abbacchio replies dryly, scoffing as if it’s beneath him.

“Excuse me!?” you and Fugo shout in tandem.

The team erupts in accusations and yelling, the celebration over nearly three minutes after it began. Bruno can only smile at his team, not expecting anything less.

And just like you moments ago, he cannot take his eyes off you.

It’s moments like those that serve as a reminder as to why it’s Bucciarati that leads the team.

Still… the smile playing on his lips that day did not falter once after your sudden display of affection. It was a beautiful, unexpected thing… much akin to how you entered his life.

The two of you were much closer after that event. Other members of Passione outside the team noticing another that’s always at the young capo’s side. Whispers and rumors flood Naples of your relationship… but he never pays them any attention.

He knows what the two of have, and he’s confident in saying that it’s love.

After all, all that matters to him is you staying at his side… even behind closed doors. He’s never experienced something like this before in his life, but now that he has you held in his arms, he never wishes to let you go.

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ivys-garden · 3 months ago

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Life Series Recap: session 6.

Hey mcytblr. How are you keeping?

Well I've had Insomnia and accidentally ate half a loath of stale bread so let's distract ourselves from it all with some nice life series stuff, eh?

Todays wild card was… OK so like, this is probably the weirdest one (and also probably my least favourite but that's a me issue)

So like… every animal dies. Then new ones spawn. Then they become something random… wat

Now despite what the random signs that keep suspiciously appearing around grian say, thus isn't actually TOO dangerous. But hey that just leaves more room for these Theatre kids to drama it up in this messy soap opera of a series

So, without further dillydallying, let's look at these fools

The Final Gals (Scott, Cleo, Pearl, Impulse, Bigb, Etho)

Billy is dead. So is Grian, probably. they've got like 20 reasons to kill that lil scamp now.

Today is a full on trap day it seems! Scott is once again enabling so everyone gets their murder hats on. Impulse traps the base with pitfalls, obviously taking inspiration from Mumbo.

Bigb also gets his traps on, killing skizz in revenge and killing lizzie for no reason. Ps are we ignoring that Jimmy almost called him a son of a bitch orrrrrrrr

Oh yes, Bigb and Etho are now officially full members, and now the Bigb is a hostile mob, we can trust him again!

I mean, not too weird, they've got a Cleo. A very big brained and Dastardly Cleo. They plan to trap the wheat field with bombs. Heck they convinced Tango and martyn it already was! They also managed to acquire a cheeky Villager, so bows of death may be making a comeback.

Speaking of bigb actually, he's like even more trust worthy. It's almost scary. He refuses to betray Pearl and instantly tattles on Scar AND when lizzie coms a knocking over I.pukse trying to kill her and Impulse blames him, he fully accepts guilt no questions asked! What was in his water today, are we sure this is the same guy?

Scott does some miscellaneous chores. He fully turned the tower into a cake, which yada yada two nickels. He also goes never raiding with Cleo and makes his once per session trip to go complement Jimmy in a totally jot fruity way, Promise. Ignore how it's only his parrot Scott tried to save from that Blaze that means nothing.

Now, Pearl. She is given the task by gem

To kill gem. So she and her new murder bestie Impulse get on they're cammel and get down to mischief. Starting with creepers!

They failed miserably with creepers. Gem is a very fast rat

They go for a raid!

The wild card kills it. Dam.

They go for a spawn egg trap + a cammel nap!

The session ends before they can pull it off God dam it.

Pearl also thinks complimenting gem will get her to like her again so take that as you will. I say, knowing full well how you fuckers will take it. I see you, and so does G O D.

Oh, Pearl also acquires a very special tool that I'll mention in Etho's bit, but needless to say he gives it to Impulse and provided he does bimbo his key binds… again, he could come back from the dead…

The Family (Gem, Joel, Etho)

Joel found a bloody trial chamber. what the devils. He looted that bitch so good.

Anyway

All the cows are dead.

Also, a new watchtower? Pog? No. Its hideous. Much like gems barn, which has become a real ship of Theseus.

Speaking of Gem, she invents new and exciting ways to hate Pearl! This week: forgetting that gem ripped her eye out!

Yeah no fair how did she forget that.

Anyway, as gem is fully insane she decides the only way Pearl can make it up to her is to (checks notes) Murder her. Yep. Now, if my friend murdered me I'd probably take that negatively, but not Gem. She's itching to 1v1 pearl. Shame that Pearl is actually being cautious and thinks that trapping her is more sensible (tho maybe she should 1v1 gem since Pearl sucks at making traps. Just saying)

Speaking of traps, Gem and Etho try to kill ren! For no reason! He's their friend! It doesn't work but like, what the hell guys!?

Gem also chose to give her life to skizz…. More on how that went at 11.

The Bamboozelers (Scar, Jimmy, Lizzie)

Oh the Bamboozelers. Where do we start?

The Bam Bunker of course! Scars off hand pipe dream was fully realised this session as Jimmy and Lizzie spend all session building they're super secret bunker!... Scott manages to bimbo his way in and Scar invites Etho in… and it's not hidden at all… but hey, bunker!

And just in time too, turns out living on an open grassy mountain with plants that limit mobility during a mob spawn wild card is a bad idea. Lizzie almost died to wither had Jimmy not killed her so as to not waste her life.

I mean he did waste her life by trying to kidnap an Iron Golem but, eh.

Now looking at pay offs for last sessions events, we get anticlimax! Jimmy tries to kill gem when she offers her help in murdering people and Lizzie finds out that Ender porters fail if you died after you set them up. Whoops!

Speaking of Lizzie failing, she blows up Martyn and Ethos tower! He was supposed to get Tango as requested by skizz, but he's too smart. Lucky that martyn isn't eh?

No, when Scar wasn't being ironically killed by vex in trial chambers, or trying to make Shulker boxes for Actually no reason, or ruining traps for people, he was…. Being gaslit into thinking evokers still dropped Totems by grian. He did come up with a good idea of egg farming, but unfortunately eggs were turned off it seems, guess no big brain Scar this session.

Also for some reason Scar tries to get people to kill Pearl. Pearl has done nothing to him, but I guess that fits Pearl overall, do nothing and forgive everyone and still people want to kill you.

Oh also shears is dead. :(

Renwood (Martyn, Ren)

Oh ren. He's having a time. He's trying to be polite and friendly and make a “zoo lake” and asks why he and Martyn aren't smooching.

But at every turn this man has his life threatened by his own allies, his animals die (INCLUDING THAT BLOODY HORSE NOOOOOOO) and his homie/probably husband is killing people! What's that about?.... The shot was sick tho.

Hey, He may now have no allies or food but…. At least the lake protected them?

Idk they're probably doomed.

Martyn has some strange happenings this session. He goes skateboarding on a camel for one. He is also back to calling people humpers God damn it.

He also does make up for knocking Skizz off his stupid bad incredibly dangerous bridge by trying to lure people into the danger zone for him, but this ends about as well as every other trap done by anyone. At least he helped Grian get…revenge…

The Tuff Guys (Bdubs, Tango, Etho)

Firstly, Pancakes.

Secondly, etho doesn't know what Mt Saint Hellens is. You mean Yellowstone, Mr. Kakashi sir.

Anyway, on to things that are actually important, Bdubs finished his house!

Oh wait, I said things of importance.

Etho decides to make my life difficult by allying with 3 teams, all of which hate each other. So thanks for that, glad you died in that stupid trial chamber.

Etho ignores whatever stupid goals Leader Tango set out and instead focuses on the important thing of getting a Wolf army kitted out with armour and the less important thing of trying to get a shulker box to solve his inventory problem. That sir, is actually just a skill issue.

Now, Wardens. Where there be Wardens, there be a Tango to adopt them. Yep the Tuff Guys get a warden… for about three seconds until it gets trapped and everyone tridents it to death. This is also when “The Suprise Tool” was acquired by Pearl, a TOTEM OF UNDYING. Yeah Impulse is effectively on green now thanks to that, Thanks Gri! Impy FTW

(Ps homework for y'all is to find out who got that last hit on the Warden)

Now, I seem to remember Tango doing something to skizz… it resulted in grian taking revenge and bombing the hell out of the Tuff Towers and

Oh No, Skizzle…

The Spanner (Grian)

Let's start with grian. He is MOURNING Mumbo, even though he got bloody atomised last session he still pretends he's here. He names an Iron Golem after him, who later kills Jimmy so hooray revenge! Go Bloop!

He also goes chamber busting and continues to be besties with Scar… hey weren't they trying to kill each other not 2 sessions ago or….

He also fixes the “Spider Nest” tnt launcher so skizz doesn't blow himself up, skizz also names the tower after Mumbo in his honour.

Oh Grian also forgot to activate the wild card for like 5 minutes. Silly Goose. Hey at least it got people nice and paranoid.

Now, Skizz. He starts of great, Bombing Gem. I mean gem let him and he lost the life like 10 seconds later but he did it! He then does the stupidest thing I've seen since Skynet and builds a rickety bridge to drop TNT on tango's head. He was asking for martyn to wind charge him off.

Skizz seems to be really focused on Tango, he did ask Jimmy, Bigb & Lizzie to kill him after all.

But, well… Tango killed him. Did he thi k it would? No. But it did anyway. He tossed a wind charge up at Mumbo Tower and skizz fell. Grian didn't even have to watch to know what happened.

The Tuff Guys tried to make amends, but at that point it was too late. Also etho didn't help by talking to the wrong Grave like a Bimbo.

Grian then has a mental breakdown! And he does what people who have those in this series do and decides allying with Joel is a good idea somehow. He tries to replace the Spanners with the family. To pretend nothing happend.

It isn't working.

What will happen next? Who can say…

Me. Tango is gone next session. Mark my bloody words

More importantly tho, JIMMY HAS HIS BEST PLACEMENT (not counting real life) WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! PHOENIX BLESSING IS REAL

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syndrossi · 2 months ago

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Thinking about Restoration AU (again). What POV would you like to write/or are you just interested in? Well, besides Cersei :D Even for the time of the first book, she can't be called sane. Maybe Jamie? Like you said, in the first book he wasn't in the mood for redemption, but here he meets the ghost of the man he was loyal to and whom he feels he has failed (I tend to think that Rhaegar just didn't want to take a 16 year old boy to battle, so he gave him an important "assignment").

Or maybe Robert's POV during the meeting with the twins? We know that Ned is mentally praying at this time, while Robert may not remember Rhaegar's facial features and his reaction is: ho ho our noble Ned is just a man too, we're not so different.

Or Catelyn? I don't share the fandom's hatred of her, but it would be very interesting to see her thoughts, especially how she tries to recreate the image of a "rival" to Rhaegar: his looks, charming singing, soft demeanor.

Personally, I'm probably most interested in seeing Darmon and Daenerys' POV. With Darmon, it will be both painful and fun - painful because he finds himself in a world where his children aren't around him, dragons are extinct, and the Targaryens have fallen (the story of Rhaegar's death might cause a sudden painful flashback). But watching him terrorize first the people of the valley and then Volantis, who have no idea where the hell the dragon came from or what children this madman is talking about (they're already willing to give him their children just to get rid of him) would be fun.

And for Daenerys I'm just happy, she'll probably be a little scared of Darmon at first (he's a little crazy during their first meeting) but then she'll appreciate him: the fact that there's finally an older family member protecting her from Viserys, and his dragon, and the way he treats her gently (she'll 100% remind Daemon of Rhaegar, only a girl). Or Viserys? In terms of insanity it should be something close to Cersei in the last few books.

Would love to see your thoughts. By the way, have you decided whose POV will be next?

Hmm, it's less for me about POVs and more about certain story events, other than the aforementioned Cersei POV. Like, the Robert meeting the twins is an obvious one, but I don't think I'll write Robert's POV. For that, I'm leaning toward Ned's, especially because he'll get to see little!Jon/Willam staring absolute daggers at Robert, both as in the I HATE YOU sense and the DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH MY LITTLE BROTHER-DAD sense, but Ned will likely interpret it as "you killed our older brother! 😡" Whereas Rhaegar/Raymar is deer-in-headlights "if I don't move he won't see me" mode.

(Oh, or could THAT be our first Cersei POV? Ehh, I still think Ned, but I can absolutely see Cersei being huffy about Robert going to greet Ned's bastards after he meetings the trueborn ones, viewing it as him rubbing his adultery in her fave, and then she catches a glimpse of Rhaegar and goes why hello yes target acquired ned stark's bastards you say?

Goodness, I hadn't thought about Rhaegar becoming the symbol of the boys' mother to Cat, but he probably would, wouldn't he? Jon and Willam remind her enough of Ned, but she's staring at this dainty-looking child with the long braid, imagining the woman's silver-blond hair and beautiful eyes and quiet demeanor. Did she sing? Is that what drew Ned to her?

Okay, I may have to steal the "Volantis just starts flinging Valyrian-looking children at Daemon in a bid to appease him" bit for Daemon's reign of terror across Essos. 😂 They just round up every child that looks the least bit like him, and even throw in some dark-haired, grey-eyed ones like the other child he mentioned. Daemon is all "wtf am I supposed to do with these?" and they're all "feed them to your dragon if they aren't what you want, please just leave us alone."

I think Dany and Daemon's first meeting will definitely be a Dany POV, so I suppose that's one I'm looking forward to! I still haven't decided the exact timing there. Canonically per the book, her wedding to Drogo has already occurred by now, so either I shift the time so that Daemon can dramatically prevent it, or he rocks up on the Dothraki and starts burning until they give him his kin.

I have not yet decided which POV is next, though that's up after Knight of Stars pt2. (Assuming I don't get sucked into the "Rhaella gets summerhalled" AU I'm very tempted to write first. And we still need the wintery hot springs prompt fill! Lots to write this week.)

#resonant asks #resonant 'verse restoration au

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aloboguara · 4 months ago

Text

The Kiss

Note: It would be only a couple of sentences to frame my illustrations, but uh... *awkward staring at the whole thing*

"Instead, he moved his thumb away from her mouth, completing the stroke on the side of her face. Galadriel opened her eyes, tears gathering and overflowing, confused. Inquisitive. Pleading. The seconds seemed to drag by, but none had really passed. The grip on his chest seemed to loosen a fraction, his inner beast of gold and silver hair coiling in unblinking expectation. Elrond lowered his lips to hers. "

If you want to read the whole thing, it's on the read more section :D

Fury

Hatred was too strong a word, too vile and dark for a heart as pure and free of corruption as Elrond's.

But fury?

Fury was an emotion very pertaining to both Elves and Men and each of his feet was firmly planted on the boundary between the two races, even if he had chosen immortality.

The suffocating thorns of this emotion sharpened outwards, towards Adar, sitting at the table as if on a throne, as if he were already twirling victory between his fingers, a fortune-deciding coin. He spoke of names sacred to Elrond, and profaned memories that should not be disturbed. Adar undervalued him for favouring diplomacy over brutality, as if the Half-Elven hadn't been through centuries of trials and feuds, acquiring the wisdom to understand that no war was worth spilling such a precious thing as the blood of his own kind, as long as there was hope. Even the slightest bit of it.

Meanwhile, inside him, the piercing branches also curled into vines that held his heart captive, climbed up his throat and formed a knot, forcing tears to form in his eyes every time they betrayed him and sought out Galadriel, shackled to a log, feigning a trust impossible - or foolish - to feel at that moment.

Elrond was furious that his weakness for the elf was so obvious that even a Moriondor who had never met him before could take advantage of it. Fury for feeling as vulnerable seeing her now as he did when he first met her as a young orphan. She, an elf so fierce and unwavering by day - unable to be stopped by seen or unseen forces. By starlight and hidden from onlookers so gentle that a flower uprooted from the earth would refuse to die in her presence, lest it cause her to weep.

He kept his unchanging reminiscences of Galadriel in a pouch encrusted with gems and sealed with seven mithril bolts, hidden so deeply within his soul that not even Sauron would be able to coax them out into the open - Elrond's single act of selfishness.

The fond memories of turning into someone who could trust her and be trusted by her. Her best friend, who held her while she mourned for her husband. Who became an equal in battle. Who could duel with her using words, spending time finding and poking at vulnerable points in her persona to see the wrinkles of indignation forming on her fair face - exchanging barbs and childish laughter.

She filled the gaping hole that the people who left him had dug in his chest, the shape of her somewhat awkward, slightly different from that of a family member, whose presence nonetheless closed the gaps that loneliness and longing for a lost home threatened to tear apart. She tucked herself tightly between his lungs, writing her name again and again on the inside of his ribs, signing him like an object belonging to her, the pain of the quill scraping him and erasing all other kinds of suffering as she scribbled:

Galadriel Galadriel Galadriel Gal-

She always noticed when he would hide himself away, lost in thought for hours under The Great Tree, staring up at the evening star and hoping to see his father's proud smile through the beams of light to the point where his eyes would water. They would sit together on the tree roots by the waterfall until Elrond felt his frustration fade with the breeze on his cheeks. As she stroked his hair, her long and slender fingers - not calloused by the repeated use of the sword - would weave tiny braids that he would find the next day when he woke up to the sun kissing his face, his head resting on her lap as she hummed songs from Valinor, her hand never ceasing its caresses.

Songs he knew had been taught by Finrod and belonged only to the listening ears of Elrond and no other being before or since.

He was so proud to be the haven to which she returned. She, who also didn't have that many friends as she carried too heavy a load on her shoulders. He was the gate through which she entered, shedding all the violence, all the bitterness, all the grief outside.

But as soon as he thought he had caught up with her and completely deciphered her thoughts; as soon as this emotional and physical closeness reached a cliff from which the only way out was to jump over the edge, she escaped. She would run before he realized the hidden peril. The notion had not even crossed his mind that their friendship could be threatened, especially by themselves.

Galadriel would vanish on her quests, gathering skills and expertise he could only dream of under the young blades that shaded Lindon. And when decades and a more composed heart later she returned - covered in mud and blood and with a tired, victorious smile adorning her face - his soul, accustomed to chanting soft melodies like the swaying of the leaves, faltered as it tried to keep up with the violent rhythm that coursed through his veins at the sight of her.

One more chance.

She would share tales of a world he wanted to explore at her side and write down in books, their foreheads pressed together so their exclamations of surprise would be hidden by the sounds of Glanduin's currents; Gil-galad would spot them and chase them away, claiming they were too empty-headed to be walking around causing mischief together.

“She leads you down paths that are too meandering,” the High King would say - half mockingly, half in despair. “And it doesn't suit your disposition, Elrond, to soak up that wild nature. She's valorous, no question about it, but not every word flows from her mouth like the gold and silver from her hair. Soon you too will be chasing reflections in the water in search of stars, and it's not suitable for me to have to pen my own speeches.”

At that time, Elrond had attributed these warning as the king's concern for a future Elven Lord. The passing of time has shown him it was fear Elrond would realise the power contained in the resolve to defy what he thought was wrong, even if his opponent wore a crown of leaves upon his brow.

He learned to armour himself with that resolve, to hide the blades that Galadriel's sharp tongue offered as training in his pockets. In return, he taught her that to run with an open chest towards a sword might work for her in combat, but in times of peace, when the spoken word would cut deeper than the blade, she would always have to walk cautiously and watch out for holes in front of her feet.

The both of them would dance following the tides as they came and went, sometimes clashing and sometimes covering each other in affection. Nightfall, dark as Elrond's hair, glimpsed the warm waters splashing on the sandy beach. Sunrise, clear as Galadriel's complexion, witnessed the waves crashing relentlessly on the shore.

Then she would stare at him and all his confidence would crumble. She made him as steadfast as he made her sensible, yes. Two complementary personalities, like flame and oil. But Elrond's oil didn't seem to be enough for Galadriel's ardour, for she still commanded him with those huge blue eyes, deceptively shallow as the most dangerous of still waters.

She would turn to him and he had the urge to go in the opposite direction, leave her presence and run for weeks to Khazad-dûm without water or a breather for fear she would beg him for something; for if she really used the power of the sapphires upon her face, if she truly put her will behind her request without giving him the chance to look away... who could refuse? And he also felt like running back to her, grabbing her by the shoulders and begging her to demand something of him, anything, so that he could show that he was worthy of the faith those same eyes placed upon him.

With those very eyes, Galadriel could see into his heart like no one else. Perhaps she didn't recognise it - unlike Elrond, she cared little about the impression she made on others and their response to her - but she could play his thoughts on any scale she wanted, choose the notes that his heart would beat to. If it would beat.

Ah, the fury once again. The ice-cold rage that ran down his veins to his fingertips when he realised, of all the beings who could also fall prey to Galadriel's spell, one Man - not a Man, but the Deceiver himself - had within months managed to conquer what the Half-Elven's determination had dared not. To know everything behind that mind and shape her thoughts like clay. To harness her soul as an instrument as she had harnessed Elrond's for centuries before.

Sauron embraced the trust placed upon him as a shield against Elrond and, just as Fëanor's sons did with his family, the Deceiver took Galadriel and then Lord Celebrimbor with him beyond a shore the commander could not follow and risk drowning all his values and beliefs in the dark sea. No longer be the person his friends had learnt to rely on.

And a much less blazing but equally thorny rage at being forced to promise he would prioritise the Enemy's demise above Galadriel's own life when the time arose.

Elrond swore, not by the Ring - the discord-causing entity which separated his duties from hers - but by himself, he would do it. That promise was his and his alone. And he only made it with the belief that if Galadriel's life became a bargaining chip, his would already be forfeit.

Galadriel offered her life for the Ring, or so Elrond assumed, and he had to return with two fewer soldiers - one sorrowfully returned to the ground, the other with an unsure fate - and the ill-fated object in a pocket on his chest. He sprinted like never before, shedding his cloak and his subordinates, in order both to be able to return with an army as soon as possible and to get away from the influence of that which was a physical representation of Sauron's conquest. The symbol of Galadriel placing her fate on him instead of on her closest friend.

Then the moriondor used her as a white and gold banner hoisted at the forefront of his army as Elrond charged towards a costly but certain victory; and as the first bead of blood was invoked by the uruk's blade - at the first nick the spear made against Galadriel's neck - the commander of the Elves broke his oath.

It was no wonder that Adar invited him to his camp like he was a vulnerable prey, the way a cat pretends to invite a mouse to play before breaking its body. Elrond had to call on all his centuries of dealing with politicians - and worse, soldiers! - to keep his face fixed and his voice neutral so that Adar wouldn't smell the blood in the water like a sea monster. But the Father of the Orcs surely had realised there was something about Elrond that he could use against Galadriel. Elrond knew that his name had somehow been brought up between the two of them when he saw the gleam of recognition in the moriondor's eyes outside the tent.

He was waiting for him. And Adar knew that he would return as the commander of an army. Fury once again - but also horror - flared under the skin of his neck.

“If she speaks again, cut out her tongue.” - Adar purred.

The sounds of laughter and blades being drawn was all it took for Elrond to almost launch himself over the table and his false composure to be unmasked as an official took a curved dagger to her neck again.

But he had a plan, and if Galadriel managed to collaborate and stay alive for all those weeks, he wouldn't go back to Lindon alone. He just needed to do what he had regretfully been avoiding ever since Nenya, the ring, began to crowd the Elf-lady's mind: get as near her as possible. As close as it had once felt only natural. Just close enough to touch her hand. It was all he had to do.

“...You can save Galadriel.”

The offer wasn't the opportunity Elrond wanted, but hearing Adar pronounce Galadriel's name with such intimacy made his eyes act on their own and briefly seek her out. Even restrained, he could see she was itching to raise havoc and end it all, only his presence forcing her to act nice.

She knew how to keep herself in check when she thought it was necessary. She just didn't think it was necessary very often.

Elrond was pained to imagine what she might have gone through all those days at the hands of the moriondor with her usual petulance. He quickly checked for any detail or sign of torture he might have missed in his first assessment of her, but apart from the first incision she had received in the wagon, which the grotesque official was now forcing with his dagger, no other evidence stood out. She looked a little frail, perhaps, her robes sagging in some places compared to the last time he had seen her, but that could be dealt with. There was no reason to believe that further physical wounds might lurk beneath the fabric, for Adar wouldn't bother marking her without the pleasure of displaying it, and Elrond forced his body to obey and calm down, his mind spinning with possibilities.

So intent was he on his plan, and so trained in following movements that did not surround Galadriel, that Elrond had to hold himself back when he realised how close Adar had approached, trying to allure him with appeals to his family tree and the terror caused by the imminent mortal risk.

Two chords struck at once, Elrond took the opportunity to stand up and ask the officer holding the dagger if he was really willing to lay down his life for Adar. The creature's hesitant expression and the whispering that spread among the troops made him rejoice internally at this first little victory and he used this movement to calculate his next steps.

The second blessing was that his call distracted the officer enough so that the blade no longer blemished Galadriel's neck and it opened Elrond's view of the rest of the tent.

Uruks stood up in every corner of the structure and only the presence of an anxious, but firm in resolve, Vorohil to cover his back. Neither he nor Galadriel had any means of communicating with Elrond or guess his next course of action.

"The Ring for Galadriel's life. What is it to be?"

Lord Celebrimbor's words rang unbidden in his mind. "True creation requires sacrifice." he said.

But that creation, Nenya, wasn't worth a single century of Galadriel's existence, let alone her spirit.

Adar had no need to know that. Elrond would have him believe he was so noble as to protect the future of the Elves in Middle-Earth above a single life. Daemor's silhouette materialized in his peripheral vision, taunting him, and he had to use some of his meager strength to concentrate on not trying to dispel the illusion his mind conjured. “If it was Daemor standing there, would I be risking everything like I am now? Ah Valar, would I have been willing to stop the charge?”

Elrond couldn't quite remember at that moment whether pure-blood Elves were capable of feeling the shivers or whether it was a trait inherited from Men, but he was sure that he felt snow trickling down the back of his neck and into his armor as he unraveled the threads of that thought.

The commander stilled his ethical dilemmas and walked past Adar. His hand went up to his shoulder as if he were trying to dispel a strain in his muscles and when it came down, the brooch holding his cloak was no longer there. Even though she was looking straight at him - those huge eyes again, ask me for something, ask me to change places with you, ask me and I'll go - Elrond didn't believe that Galadriel understood his intentions. He hoped, however, that the Uruk's senses were much more geared towards smell than sight, and that the soldier who was still holding her was too dispersed reflecting on his allegiance. As long as Adar – who still retained his Elf-like senses - wasn't looking at him, Elrond hoped that this particular action wouldn't be noticed.

The metal hidden between his fingers seared and bruised his palm when Elrond had to turn his back on Galadriel and suggest the greatest of all dishonesties: that he would leave her join the other warriors who opposed Sauron in the Halls of Mandos.

"Very well. I'll meet you there... with her head on a pike." Adar warned, and every word oozed venom and intent. He would do it; Elrond had no doubt.

The vision that this threat evoked was so disturbing and so unnatural that Elrond had little trouble dispelling it. It would not be brought to the seen realm; he was sure of that. He had come armed with hope and, to ruefully recite Gil-galad, hope is never mere, however meager.

“If that is to be the way of things, I should like to bid her farewell.”

It was time. Now that faith should be worth its weight in Valinor gold. The chance to set the script in motion had finally arrived. All that remained was for the actors to deliver their lines. He needed to hand over Galadriel's before the curtains opened.

Adar quizzed the first officer with his gaze and, after confirming that Elrond carried no weapons, silently allowed him to approach.

The soldier carelessly released Galadriel, the knife threatening to draw blood again. Elrond cast one last warning glance at him, an unknown instinct imploring him to drop everything and finish the uruk, but he pulled on the leash of his impulsiveness and turned, at last, to the recipient of all his effort.

Weeks should be mere droplets in the endless timeline of the Elves, yet he felt as if there was an eternity between the last discussion between Elrond and Galadriel and the moment their eyes finally met. Every word would be heard by a hard-to-please audience and the Peredhel couldn't let any trace of suspicion hang over her. He'd have to convince everyone - including her - that this would be the final parting.

Galadriel, who was usually prideful and fierce, raised her face without any sign of accusation marring it, only bewilderment at seeing Elrond's face closed off in secrets. Her open expression signaled that she had accepted her fate and would spend her last moments forgiving Elrond for all his wrongdoings up to that point. For doubting her time and time again, for needing to be coerced into helping her after making pledges that he wouldn't hesitate if she asked. She seemed to mean that none of that mattered anymore, the affection reached him like an almost tangible force and he felt the relief of still being able to read a sliver of her heart without her having to utter the words: “Don't harbor any regrets, for I forced you into that promise, old friend. Thank you for keeping it.... Carry out your mission for me, my dear Elrond."

"Goheno nin." For the theatre audience, the whispered request of forgiveness was for leaving her to die.

For him, it was in anticipation of what he would do.

He needed the act to be convincing. In plain terms, he needed a distraction striking enough for him to pass the brooch - a makeshift lockpick- into Galadriel's hands. Her chance to escape the cruel fate Adar hoped to inflict.

For the Uruk, any sign of intimacy would be of great interest, especially shared between Elves. Brought up in war, mud and toxic gases, unable to feel the sun on their skins, having Galadriel among their troops during these days was the closest these creatures had ever come to the light.

The physical display of affection by two of their kind was so rare that it would undoubtedly draw everyone's attention to their faces and away from their hands. All Elrond had to do was touch her forehead with his, perhaps a single peck on his friend's cheek, and the climax of the plan would be realized. He would slip the lifesaving object into her grasp and go off to battle, assured that Galadriel would be able to escape like an avenging spirit. He could already imagine the chaos she would leave in her wake, could see her audacious smile.

But what really happened - what he would never have the courage to utter aloud or even write down on one of his parchments to burn later - was that his heart didn't have half the steadfastness he was trying to replicate. And that behind the breastplate of his armor, locked in the cage of his ribs, was another Galadriel, a small beast with fair hair and bony elbows, forcing open a non-existent gap and knocking the wind out of him. After a long time in a deep, deliberate sleep she now awoke, stretching languidly, and picked up her old quill. With one hand she squeezed his lungs, preventing him from breathing.

With the other she scribbled, over and over again, the only word she knew: Galadriel Galadriel Galadriel Gal-

Elrond stretched out his hand, fingers brushing lightly against the face of the real Galadriel still chained to the log; she closed her eyes, sighing, trying to increase the pressure on the meeting point between the two of them. His thumb reached for her mouth, halting just before he did so.

As soon as he touched her, it would be enough. Galadriel's naked eagerness, which he hadn't expected - the eagerness for skin on skin that secretly mirrored itself in him - had already commanded the attention needed for the second act. They were far too convincing.

Any contact would be enough. One swipe of his fingertip across her lips would guarantee the exchange of idle chatter amongst the Uruk trenches for weeks to come - if he wasn't planning to exile them at the very first light.

That alone would be enough. He would bring the action his left hand had begun to a close and slip the brooch into her shackled hands with his right.

Nothing too daring.

Or scandalous.

There would be nothing that could tip the balance of the friendship they had been building for centuries, tipping the weights to a side they could never level again.

Instead, he moved his thumb away from her mouth, completing the stroke on the side of her face.

Galadriel opened her eyes, tears gathering and overflowing, confused.

Inquisitive.

Pleading.

The seconds seemed to drag by, but none had really passed.

The grip on his chest seemed to loosen a fraction, his inner beast of gold and silver hair coiling in unblinking expectation.

Elrond lowered his lips to hers.

The kiss tasted of iron and salt. It was reminiscent of Círdan's sea and Celebrimbor's forge, but neither sea nor forge could produce the sound that Elrond's blood made when it rushed into his ears, drowning out everything but the being standing in front of him.

It also tasted like an unknown and terrifying feeling.

It was both satiety and thirst, as if he'd fought his way to exhaustion, his mouth dry, and he'd turned over a pitcher of fresh water on his lips without the liquid reaching his throat; and he wanted - no - needed more and more and more and...

It had to be the anticipation of the upcoming battle that was stirring his emotions. The waters of the Glanduin were always more violent wherever there were stones on its course. It was only right that amidst all this turmoil, his thoughts should also be tossed about and confused.

He was kissing - properly so - Galadriel.

She had yet to string him up with her own shackles. Rather, her face had mirrored his when he lowered himself to her, her eyes closing before his own in anticipation.

She was returning the pressure on his kiss, for the first time letting him make all the decisions. One last token of her trust in him.

Should he leave after that? Draw his sword, take lives and seek a victory when he was already wearing the laurels of the reward? Would he be able to free himself from the magnet trapping his lips? Could he open the saddlebag of his memories and put this one in the deepest place, live as if he had never known his most sacred desire? His immortal spirit barely seemed capable of remaining attached to his physical body at that moment.

The entire plan was supposed to be just an enactment, and he forgot to put on his character's mask before going on to the stage, bringing his true heart to the play.

“Valar, give me time to think. Give me time to feel.” he thought.

Five seconds or millennia, he wasn't sure.

He'd forgotten about the brooch.

Elrond - sluggishly, with his heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird, pounding loudly and uncoordinatedly - tried to take in every detail of the texture on his lips before releasing the moment into the stash of memories, and gradually detached himself from the invisible vines that Galadriel had thrown over him.

With their foreheads pressed together his eyes remained closed, for he wasn't yet ready, wasn't sure he would be immune to temptation once more abandoning the reason that had brought him here in the first place.

Praying the uruk's attention was on their faces still, he sought out her hand and brushed his fingers over hers - holding out the hope that they would see the sun rise again, even if on different battlefields.

Only then did he allow himself to look at her.

Baffled was the closest adjective to describe Galadriel's expression, a little sceptical perhaps. He would have smiled if the moment hadn't been so pressing, as she began to throw darts with her eyes. "What was that supposed to mean, Elrond? Was that a joke with me? Not very amusing, I suppose..."

Ah, Galadriel, the time it would take him to understand what his body had decided on its own would make the leaves on the trees fall, grow and fall again. The words required, if they were written down, would use up all the rolls of parchment he had left in his room.

The sound of the uruks moving around in awkwardness filled the room again as his blood ceased to flood his head and his heart slowed to a walk.

None of the soldiers, not even Adar, seemed to notice that something odd had happened and Elrond used the power of his relief as momentum to end the performance.

He took one last glance at Galadriel before letting his fingers drift away from the warmth of her cheek, begging her to understand that this wasn't a genuine farewell. That no, he wasn't engaging in a tasteless prank in such a precious situation.

If he didn't break free now, he would never leave.

He filled his lungs with the stale air of the tent, almost hearing the wild Galadriel inside him grumble as she lost a little space. Then he turned the other and called Vorohil.

He didn't say Namárië , for he would see her soon.

He would meet her again, alive - with a tired, triumphant smile.

One more chance.

Elrond donned the fury he had stripped off when he climbed onto the stage and left the war room. He would have plenty of use for it henceforth.

Inside the door, he left hope.

#elrondriel #elrond x galadriel #elrond #galadriel #fanart #fanfic #trop season 2 #the rings of power #aloboguara

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stobinesque · 2 years ago

Text

The last post I reblogged has me thinking about how Lucas is treated by his friends/the wider UD gang in-universe/from a more Watsonian perspective. Because here are the facts:

Lucas has spent most of his childhood being explicitly/overtly bullied for his race [being called "Midnight" by their season 1 bullies]¹

At the beginning of Season 2, Mike clearly assumes that Lucas agreed to go as Winston for no other reason than both of them being black. But when called on this, Mike cannot bring himself to admit that's what he was thinking. (He also does not apologize to Lucas.)

Until Billy attacks him, Lucas doesn't really know why Max is trying to avoid being seen with him when Billy picks her up/at her house, but having been on the receiving end of "my family is racist so I can't be seen with you," whether or not you actively know the reason someone is trying to hide you from another person, it feels alienating. Also, he absolutely figures it out in hindsight.

But since at first he doesn't know that Billy inexplicably and aggressively hates him/doesn't want him interacting with Max, from Lucas' perspective he gets attacked by a white boy 4-5 years his senior and almost twice his size out of literally nowhere. Said boy explicitly declares to him "You're dead, Sinclair."²

Lucas, upon entering high school, decides that he wants to acquire enough social pressure to protect him and his friends from the bullying they had to deal with throughout middle school. Neither Mike nor Dustin seem willing/able to understand why he might be interested in that protection.

There are a couple different ways to interpret Lucas (and Patrick)³ choosing to stay with Jason and Andy, but I think it's reasonable to assume that Lucas would be able to recognize a mob/witch hunt forming, and I also think it is reasonable to assume that Lucas knows that mobs tend to target the most vulnerable members of a population, and that he himself both as a black kid and a member of Hellfire is at risk.

Nancy knows for a fact that Jason was at the army surplus store in search of a gun, and while it is implied that she informs the group of this, they seem not to take that into any consideration when planning because

Taken altogether, this paints a picture that in-universe, all of Lucas' friends should be intimately aware that he has experienced overt racism for his entire life. But, the Halloween costume argument also suggests that even though they're all aware of said racism, none of the white members of the group really feel comfortable talking about it. Lucas does explicitly call Mike out on thinking that he would be Winston (or that Mike can't be) "because he's black," and Mike flat out lies to his face. If this is one of the first times Lucas has confronted one of the Party members about their own implicit racism, I think it would be reasonable for him to walk away from that exchange deciding that race isn't something he can have honest conversations with his friends about.

We also never see Billy attacking Lucas addressed on-screen after it happens. Which means we never get to see anyone check-in with Lucas about what happened, or see him process what happened.

So come season 4 Lucas has great reason both to want more social capital/protection and to feel uncomfortable explicitly talking to his friends about why that might be. (Especially with the added baggage of Billy having just been killed, which assuredly inspired a lot of complicated feelings for Lucas, especially because of how much his death impacted Max.) Instead, he makes one simple request of his friends (who he both wants at his game and still wants to play D&D with them): get Eddie to reschedule the game. And, sure, it's Eddie's fault that the game doesn't get rescheduled. But it is absolutely on Mike and Dustin that they didn't choose to skip (which honestly probably would have forced Eddie to reschedule anyway??).

So for the most important game of the season, Lucas winds up without his friends or his sister there to watch him make the winning shot, and he misses out on the D&D game that he wanted to play with his friends. It's entirely possible that Lucas still would have decided to go to the afterparty even if Mike and Dustin had come to the game. But I think it's reasonably likely that he'd have gone to celebrate separately with them! Or at least would have left the party early, rather than getting so drunk he pukes the next morning. So when Jason riles the whole team into becoming a mob out for blood, Lucas ends up stuck between a rock and a hard place. He can't really say or do anything to stop Jason that doesn't also put a target on his back. Sticking with him is the best way to 1) ensure his own physical safety and 2) have any hope of protecting Eddie/his friends.

And then Lucas risks his life to lead Jason & co. off Eddie's scent and bikes eight miles to come warn Dustin that he's in danger. He actually explicitly says that Dustin is in terrible danger. Lucas (and, honestly, all of the Party--except arguably Will) at this point is intimately aware of the fact that a white boy fueled by rage can been homicidally dangerous. So the fact that even after knowing for a fact that Jason has acquired a gun, the whole team send Lucas, Erica and Max to the Creel house without weapons, protection, or any sort of plan as to how to deal with Jason & co. if they turn up is not only baffling, but honestly feels downright callous.

From a purely Watsonian perspective, Lucas has every right and reason to be absolutely livid with his friends. Their consistent inability to recognize or acknowledge the racism Lucas experiences directly results in Lucas and his sister being attacked and nearly killed--and not even by the supernatural bad guy.

¹The show never returns to this, but to me it is broadly illustrative of the racial climate in Hawkins

²Please do not waste your breath trying to argue with me that Billy "wasn't really trying to kill him." I honestly don't care either way. He threatened to kill a 13-year-old boy whose only "crime" was being black. There is no other explanation for Billy's treatment of Lucas that makes sense, since he explicitly targets him, and not Dustin or Mike. Regardless of whether or not Billy had genuine homicidal intent, Lucas had no reason to think otherwise in that moment. I have no interest in arguing this point with anyone.

³Patrick is another excellent example of the show being unable to meaningfully reckon with with its racial implications, but that's its own post.

#lucas sinclair #stranger things meta #meta #read.txt #...not gonna main tag this #cw antiblackness

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verdemoun · 8 months ago

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Do any of the gang members find out that they have any disorders/mental illnesses/etc. once they get timewarped and if so what are their reactions? Ranging from ��oh, I though that was normal” to “NUH UH!”

timewarp was founded on the gang realising they have ptsd and kieran's autism being more obvious and worse in timewarp. but in detail

kieran is autistic

sean might have adhd but he doesn't actually have hyperactivity as a symptom. plot twist he just has that erratic trauma avoiding energy. it is a lot more masking severe c-ptsd and imposter syndrome that is his behind his exaggerated happy personality. see reform school lore

arthur is one of the few diagnosed he definitely had an acquired brain injury which while a physical injury manifests with mostly neurological symptoms. sometimes he gets confused or irritated for seemingly no reason, and this has been a thing since long before timewarp. the gang move on from joking about how dumb he is he does have an intellectual disability as part of his ABI. his response was very "oh I thought that was normal" and "bah i ain't need help".

the gang have subconsciously been aware of this long before they had the medical knowledge to understand it and are all pretty used to quickly explaining things or reminding arthur of stuff he forgets. lowkey consider this canon ever notice how the gang talk to arthur sometimes not entirely condescending but explaining things on his level eg sean being the one to point out the grays will definitely recognise him and he should hide in the wagon, grimshaw almost playfully reminding a grown man to wash because he straight up forgets, gentle reminders of what they're doing through heists even beyond game mechanics a lot of heist cut scenes are super repetitive like charles very much breaking down we're blowing a hole in the bank. take the spool and connect it to the detonator. the detonator is over there. it just feels like they know arthur isn't always entirely there and are v supportive. arthur is so curious and asks so many questions and the gang just roll with it and answer most of the time it feels so kind and positive.

arthur also definitely has adhd. hyper-fixates on new interesting thing for a month and then completely forgets everything he ever learned about it

almost the entire gang acknowledge they have ptsd/c-ptsd and varying levels of trauma as a response their lives/childhoods/relationships with parents/being a VDL. acknowledging it doesn't mean they do anything to move towards recovery because they are still mostly men raised with 19th century values who hang shit on each other for flinching at loud noises or being 'is someone shooting at us' alert

lenny and isaac as the most aware begging their friends/family to take their mental health seriously and are constantly met with 'lmao no' 'that's?? normal?? what do you mean' and 'NUH'. lenny cries 'please this is re-traumatising you are actively upsetting yourselves' while the gang go 'boo grow a pair' despite experiencing varying levels of anxiety attack in response to triggers.

john will only bring up 'hey stop making wolf jokes about me it is Actually a Trigger' to stop the gang bullying him. very genuine trigger and phobia of wolves and wolf-like dogs but still doesn't take it seriously himself

bill has recognized anger management issues and is in therapy. alcoholism is a definite concern. he's also just got a lot of internalised homophobia and complex feelings about the gang and his own childhood to unpack and learn how to articulate and express his feelings in a healthier way. only one of the adult gang who is actively trying to improve his mental health through therapy go king

the d in dsm-5 stands for dutch and he is thriving in in-patient care. not even the doctors know entirely what to diagnose him because he seems to have symptoms of everything but is responding best to medications traditionally used to support bi-polar

special acknowledgement to karen who is very very depressed but is a thriving with anti-depressants because trying to get the gang to go to actual psychologists and therapy is Hell. her and sean send each zoloft memes constantly

#rdr2 timewarp au

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thenightfolknetwork · 9 months ago

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Hi there. I’m not really sure what to write here. I’m a long time listener but a first time writer I guess? I’m sapio as far as I’m aware, but recently I’ve been wondering about that. I’ve always felt different to everyone else, and recently that feeling of being different has become feeling Different with a capital D if that makes sense? I hope I’m not overstepping any boundaries by asking this- and please feel free to not reply if so or if you’ve already answered a very similar question- is there any way I can look into whether I am a member of the Creature Community? Thank you for reading my letter and any advice you can give:)

[also OOC MA and this blog have really helped me get through some tough times so thank you so much <3]

My dear reader, I assure you, it isn't overstepping boundaries to explore your own identity! How could it be? It isn't as if identifying as a member of the community is a finite resource. You aren't taking anything away from others by exploring the matter for yourself.

Is anything in particular that makes you think your difference from those around you is specifically liminal in nature. Have you noticed any particular differences in your physicality, or your abilities? Are you sensitive to salt, perhaps, or other thaumaturgically reactive materials? Is there some question about your biological parentage, is there a family history of liminality?

Here at the Nightfolk Network, we have always been fervent supporters of self-identity, and reject all notions of gatekeeping around the community. That being said, the fact is that being a member of the community does actually mean you experience some kind of difference from the sapio norm.

It might be an inherited difference, or an acquired difference; it might be a difference of physiognomy or perspective; some people may even consider themselves members of the community simply on the grounds of their work, their hobbies or their social milieu. I am reminded of a listener who wrote in once after spending some hundred years working as a psychopomp, only to wonder if they still had a place in the community once they retired.

In short, there are about as many ways to be liminal as there are members of the creature community. A general check-up with your GP might be able to shed some light on biological differences. Alternatively, you could go private, and contract a magical practitioner to assess your presence on various planes of being.

If you wish to join our community, you are very welcome to do so. You might explore your own biology and discover some liminality in your DNA, or you might take up a magical practice, look into being turned, or any number of other paths.

A quick word of warning, though: joining the creature community is not a panacea for emotional distress. You say you want to explore your liminality to explain why you feel so “different” to the people around you. But difference is not a problem to be solved. You are not a problem to be solved. And belonging to a community – any community – is so much more than meeting some arbitrary set of demographic requirements.

By all means, explore your liminality. I only hope you can put the same energy and enthusiasm into connecting with the communities to which you already belong.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

#monstrous agonies #answered #the nightfolk network #episode twenty four is the one being referenced #linked in the letter #also thank you for the ooc note thats so lovely!!!!

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atamascolily · 8 months ago

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All Hail the Bug King

Today I want to talk about the Big Bad of Thunderbolt Fantasy, Huò Shì Míng Huáng (aka Kasei Meikō, Locust, and/or the Bug King, depending on what language you're using and how irreverent you're feeling at the moment) and what his deal is.

First of all, his name is written as 禍世螟蝗, which is usually translated as "Plague of Moths and Locusts". This is fine, but there are a couple nuances to appreciate here (caveat: not a native speaker, just an interested person with a dictionary):

禍 is the character for calamity, misfortune and disaster.

世 is the character for "world".

螟 does in fact mean "moth", but more specifically pyralid moths, which are very small and have notably large "snouts". I think they're cute, but this family includes numerous agricultural pests like wax moths, rice moths, flour moths, and various borer moths, and that's the sense in which it is being used here.

蝗 is the character for "locust", which is a generic term for any kind of grasshopper with a swarming phase. Under certain environmental conditions, normally solitary grasshoppers will form impressively large groups and devour everything in their path.

"Plague of Moths and Locusts" doesn't really get at the scale of this guy's ambitions, imo, but it's accurate and concise while still inculcating some existential dread and establishing the bug theme. However, I wanted to lead with the breakdown of his name because it's actually a very clever way of establishing his other theme, which is unleashing global calamity... or something, anyway.

Our first glimpse of the Bug King is in this weird liminal space where he conducts meetings with the members of the Order of the Divine Swarm ("Divine Locust Alliance"). It's basically a giant 3-D Zoom meeting where participants can either talk with their cameras off or pop in directly.

Each member of the group has their own distinct sigil; Locust's is a grasshopper with what appears to be an eye on its back, which is fitting given that he's just used his surveillance orb to spy on Shang Bu Huan from a distance.

In the beginning, we know two things about Locust: he wants the Sorcerous Sword Index, and he's powerful enough to make Shang Bu Huan start running. But it isn't until halfway through Season 3 that we finally see the man in the flesh, in a terrifying flashback where he kicks our heroes' asses.

(In classic Thunderbolt Fantasy tradition, cue the "oh, shit, he's hot!" moment.)

This scene is a lot to take in on first watch because there's so much going on, but became clearer to me after repeated viewings:

First of all, Locust's line, "Only a blade whose existence defies reality can hope to destroy me" screams of foreshadowing, and I fully expect him to meet his comeuppance through exactly this method, even though I don't know how or why it happens. It also reminds me of Lin smugly remarking that words are enough to take down foes that are immune to blades in S2, which I suspect is also relevant here--and I'd be very surprised if Lin is not at least partly responsible for Locust's ultimate downfall through some clever rules lawyering, just like he engineered Zhao Jun Lin's defeat in S3.

Two, Mu Tian Ming is specifically targeted because she tells Shang that the whole thing is a trap to make him use the Index. "[He] is a master of heretical magics! He's bound to be up to something!" Locust blinds her not just to bait Shang into reacting, but because she sees too much. The Index is the one weapon that Shang cannot use under any circumstances, because somehow Locust will turn it against him; somehow, it is the key to Locust's plans or else he wouldn't be making such of an effort to acquire it in the first place.

In the end, Locust's gambit backfires: maiming Tian Ming causes an infuriated Lang Wu Yao to gain an unexpected power-up and wallop the Bug King with a lightning bolt. It doesn't kill him, but it does cause him to retreat, allowing Shang to ultimately take Tian Ming's advice and flees the country.

In Season 3, we learn more about Locust's ultimate goal: although his agents believe they are fighting for the future of Xi You, he doesn't want to usurp the throne of Xi You at all. Using a scale as a metaphor, he tells Yi Piaomiao (actually Lin Xue Ya in disguise) that his ambition is not to choose between one side or the other, but to become the scale itself. In other words, all roads lead to the same end; all choice is an illusion, just like the ones the Bug King surrounds himself with, obscuring their true nature.

And in a final episode twist that made me scream obscenities at the screen, all of this is proven even more true with the reveal that Locust is also the Emperor of Xi You, who has been in seclusion since his ascension as part of a prophecy. In the end, there's no difference between the Order of the Divine Swarm and the Imperial army; for all of Wan Jun Po's agonizing over his perceived treachery, he served the same master the entire time without knowing it, right up to the moment of his death at said master's hands. Absolutely masterful writing there on so many levels.

But this brings me to my next point, which is What exactly does Locust want? He already has plenty of worldly power at his disposal and he's a master of heretical arts. What exactly does he need the Sorcerous Sword Index for, given what he's already capable of? (Okay, so technically at least one of the swords belonged to the Xi You royal family, but somehow I don't think that's what this is about.)

Here's my guess: Locust wants the Index not as an end in itself, but as the means to a larger end. His ambitions are cosmic in scope, and somehow the Index is key to unlocking or unleashing whatever it is he has in mind. Maybe, like Mie Tian Hai, he's fine with letting the demons destroy the world so he can be recognized as a savior, but I think Locust's plan is so much bigger than that.

There are so many dualities in Thunderbolt Fantasy--Dong Li and Xi You, Imperial government and the Order of the Divine Swarm, human and demon worlds, etc, etc. I think Locust wants to move beyond them all, to become a god--the "Divinity" in "Divine Swarm" is more than merely poetic.

When Locust says he wants to become the scale, I don't think it's a metaphor. I think he literally wants to fuse with the world somehow, so that he becomes the arbiter of fate itself, so that choice and free will either no longer exist or they become co-opted, to the point where they are merely illusions, and nothing happens that Locust himself does not personally will or desire. Rebellion would be impossible, especially since most people won't even notice what has happened in the first place!

(Oh, and if you want further proof, the name of his weapon is 諸業俱毀, "All Karmas Destroyed Together", which is, er, a little on the nose, don't you think?)

Fate is a key theme in Thunderbolt Fantasy, so it's not surprising to me that Locust's plan would center around becoming it. Shang makes no secret how important choice is to him--how even villains can actively choose to be better--and his refusal to let fate define him. Meanwhile, Lin Xue Ya is out there actively manipulating fate for his own ends--see the dolls he crafts specifically to take advantage of his connection with Shang.

The relationship between these three is going to be incredibly important going forward, but I want to specifically to talk about Lin vs. Locust, because that's the least examined and has some interesting points.

Both Lin and Locust are masters of illusion who manipulate others. For the first time, Lin is going up against someone with a similar skillset--someone who is almost certainly more powerful than he is. That doesn't mean Lin can't win, merely that Locust represents a different kind of challenge in scale and scope than his previous targets.

Both Lin and Locust are hiding things from each other. If Lin hasn't already figured out the implications of the scale speech, he will soon, thus knowing a secret Locust takes pain to keep hidden. What will he do with that knowledge? The real question for me is is, how long will it take Locust to figure out "Piaomiao" isn't who he seems--and what will he do with it? The stakes are incredibly high and neither side has a definite advantage at this point. How many twists and turns will this game of cat and mouse get to before the end?

Finally, those of you who are familiar with Puella Magi Madoka Magica (also written by Urobuchi) have probably noticed the parallels between Locust and Walpurgisnacht, the Witch of Calamities, a collective of fallen magical girls who appears as a storm and brings destruction in her wake. Walpurgisnacht is the Stage-Producing Witch, for whom the whole world is a stage, who manipulates the real world as if it is her labyrinth (as it may well be!) and for whom everyone is a character playing out their assigned parts. Walpurgisnacht's nature and true identity has yet to be revealed, but it's highly likely that as with Locust, she will be intimately connected to someone we already know, or think we know.

It's not that that Madoka Magica and Thunderbolt Fantasy are the same story--far from it--but they share the same author, and so it's only natural that their themes and motifs echo each other, turning up in different forms and different ways. Ultimately, in each case, the antagonist is a collective directed by a single intelligence that hides behind illusion, brings complete and total destruction in their wake, and represents fate itself--and who is challenged by heroes who believing in defying that fate to create a world where human choice still matters. In a way, it's weirdly fitting that the next installments in each of these two series will likely come out at around the same time, juxtaposing them even further.

#thunderbolt fantasy #wuxia fantasy puppet epic #huo shi ming huang #thunderbolt fantasy meta

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camisoledadparis · 3 months ago

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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … November 24

1632 – Baruch Spinoza, the Dutch philosopher was born on this date (d. 1677). One of the great rationalists of 17th century philosophy, he laid the groundwork for the 18th century Enlightenment and modern biblical criticism. By virtue of his magnum opus, the posthumous Ethics, Spinoza is also considered one of Western philosophy's definitive ethicists. He was raised and educated in the Orthodox Jewish fashion, also studying Latin and was thoroughly familiar with European humanism.

What exactly is it that caused him to be excommunicated from the synagogue when he was only 24 years old? Many scholars have speculated that the horror Spinoza inspired in the Jewish community may have come not only from his espousal of advanced economic theories, but from his espousal, as well, of Greek love among impressionable students in the liberal circle where he taught. A Dutch physician, J. Roderpoort, wrote at The Hague in 1897: "Spinoza excites the youth to respect women not at all and to give themselves to debauchery." Was Spinoza merely teaching the Greek and Roman classics, with their inevitable passages on pederasty? What were Roderpoort's motives for discrediting the Jewish philosopher? Was Spinoza, in fact a pederast? It's all open to speculation.

1933 – A law was passed in Germany to allow surgical castrations as a crime prevention measure and a therapeutic treatment for homosexuality.

1930 – Albert Wolsky is an American costume designer. He has worked both on stage shows as well as for film, and has received two Academy Awards, for his work on the films All That Jazz and Bugsy.

Wolsky was born in Paris, France, but during World War II, he and the rest of his family fled to the United States to escape the German occupation. After graduating from the City College of New York, he served in the army from 1953–56, spending most of his enlistment in Japan. Once he returned to the United States, he began working in his father's travel agency. However, he decided to change careers and took an assistant's job with notable costume maker Helene Pons.

Wolsky became a well-regarded costume designer, working both on Broadway and in the motion picture industry.

His longtime partner was actor James Mitchell.

1933 – René Enriquez remembered for his role as the perpetually worried Lieutenant Ray Calletano on Hill Street Blues.

Born in San Francisco, California, he attended San Francisco College and San Francisco State University. He served with the U.S.Air Force during the Korean War. He was a member of the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in New York from 1958. He was also the nephew of General Emiliano Chamorro, one-time president of Nicaragua.

As a film actor, René was known for Bananas (1971), Harry and Tonto (1974), Under Fire (1983) and The Evil That Men Do (1988).

He also appeared in episodes of Charlie's Angles, Benson, WKRP in Cincinnati and Quincy.

In biographies and intervies, Enriquez told of a wife who had tragically died. It was a lie. He was a homosexual bachelor who contracted AIDS in 1987. As he became more and more ill, he told his friends and fans he was suffering from cancer. He died in March 1990.

His publicist and long-time friend Henry Bollinger revealed, "René told me he was dying of pancreatic cancer. He never told me anything about a gay lifestyle."

The true cause of his death only became known when his death certificate was published. Cause of death was given as "cytomegalovirus enteritis due to Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome (AIDS)"

The only people privy to René's terrible secret were his two sisters and his 25-year-old Hispanic lover.

1940 – Arthur Tress, American photographer, born. The uncompromising, poetic imagery of American photographer Arthur Tress is the stuff of dreams, called forth from the artist's reckoning with the world and his place in it.

A New Yorker, he began his photographic career at age twelve, making snapshots of dilapidated mansions and Coney Island decay. An introverted child of divorce, Tress moved between two worlds--his lower-class mother's neighborhoods and his nouveau riche, remarried father's more prosperous one, observing and eventually photographing both milieus.

As he recalls, from a very young age he was already aware that his sexuality was different from most of his classmates and he was drawn to subject matter that was similarly marginalized and different.

During his studies at Bard College, Tress explored painting and filmmaking but was ultimately committed to still photography. Although he worked in a documentary style, from the beginning his imagery was characterized by a surrealist sensibility.

After graduation Tress traveled the world, in part financed by his father and also supporting himself by making ethnographic and documentary images. During his travels he became increasingly influenced by his experience of other cultures, particularly in matters of spirituality and consciousness.

Tress's first book, The Dream Collector (1972), was an attempt to visualize children's dreams, often featuring children whom Tress had interviewed as models. His second book, Shadow: A Novel in Photographs (1975), showed "portraits" of the photographer's shadow and explored the idea that the shadow literally and metaphorically represented one's dark side.

Theater of the Mind (1976), which included an essay by his friend and mentor, gay photographer Duane Michals, explored adult fantasies and marked the introduction in Tress's work of overtly erotic imagery. As Tress explained, he sought to make "photographs [that] attempt to make explicit . . . sexual passions and ironies."

"Superman Fantasy"

Around 1972 Tress consciously began to include what he called "the more intimate spheres of a gay sexuality and homoerotic fantasy life." Facing Up (1977-1980), alternately titled Phallic Phantasy, was Tress's first explicitly conscious exploration of his sexuality in which he exclusively photographed male nudes.

"Groom with White Arabian"

Many of these images were included in Tress's homoerotic homage, Male of the Species: Four Decades of Photography of Arthur Tress (1999), which culls imagery from Tress's forty-year career of exploring the male body and sexuality. The sensual photographs, sequenced in a loose narrative of experience from youth to death, matter-of-factly infuse male sexuality with humor and irony.

In contrast, Tress's obsessive constructions made and photographed for the Hospital series (1984-1987) are a garish, nightmarish reckoning with health-related issues and death in the era of AIDS.

1954 – James Lecesne is an American actor, author, screenwriter, and LGBT rights activist best known for his screenplay of the Academy-award winning short film Trevor. He has written several books including Absolute Brightness and Virgin Territory, and is also active in the entertainment industry as an actor and producer.

Lecesne wrote the 1995 short film Trevor, which won the Academy Award for Best Live Action Short Film. He based the screenplay for Trevor on a character from his one-man show Word of Mouth. Also in 1995, Word of Mouth won the Drama Desk Award for Outstanding One-Person Show. Word of Mouth was directed by Eve Ensler.

In 1998, on the night Ellen DeGeneres hosted the television debut of Trevor on HBO, Lecesne co-founded and launched The Trevor Project as the first nationwide 24-hour crisis intervention lifeline for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and questioning youth, including phone, in-person and online life-affirming resources such as Trevor Lifeline, TrevorChat, TrevorSpace, Ask Trevor and Trevor Education Workshops. The Trevor Project has been supported by a wide variety of celebrities, including Daniel Radcliffe, Neil Patrick Harris, James Marsden, Kim Kardashian, George Takei, and Anderson Cooper.

1984 – Wolf Hudson is a Dominican American film director, street dancer and pornographic actor of heterosexual, homosexual, and bisexual films.

Hudson started his adult film career in 2006 at age 22 in New York when he was cast by Michael Lucas in the Lucas Entertainment project Michael Lucas' Auditions Vol. 22. He moved to San Francisco in early 2007 to focus on his career in the pornographic film industry full-time and to work for gay pornographic film studio Factory Videos.

In August 2008, he co-starred in the GayVN Award-winning bisexual film Shifting Gears , directed by Chi Chi LaRue. The film stirred up controversy when the term "Straight-for-pay" (a play on word for Gay-for-pay) was coined to reference performer Blake Riley's first encounter with a woman (Shy Love) and liking it. Riley received most of the criticism, but so did Hudson and LaRue.

Hudson appeared in the third season of the Canadian TV show Webdreams , which followed Jet Set Men directors Chris Steele and Chad Donovan.

Hudson turned down an offer to appear on a January 22, 2009, episode of The Tyra Banks Show concerning Gay-for-pay performers. He expressed his reservations about appearing because of how the show could twist things around to make the guys look bad.

Hudson identifies himself as heterosexual, even going as far as to call himself a "sexualist" instead of gay-for-pay. He is quoted as saying, "I am not conventional. I am not fully straight because I do gay porn, but I'm not bi because I don't date men in my personal life. I define myself as a 'sexualist'. I think Chi Chi LaRue came up with that term and it works for me."

1991 – Freddie Mercury, lead singer for Queen, died of complications from AIDS. It was only the day before that he acknowledged that he had the disease. He left most of his estate to a former girlfriend, Mary Austen, who cared for him during his final months.

2015 – The Vietnamese National Assembly passes a law that allows those who have undergone sex reassignment surgery to register under their preferred sex. However, sex reassignment surgery is illegal in Vietnam. The law comes into effect in 2017.

On Gay Rights, Vietnam is Now More Progressive Than America

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tunashei · 6 months ago

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First Impressions of Animorphs!

I'm listening to the Animorphs series while I work, through Animorphs Aloud - a fan made reading of the series. Here are my first impressions/random thoughts about them! Spoilers below if you haven't read them.

Book 12: The Reaction

Been a while since I've done one of these right? I confess, this one I forgot about in my drafts folder. Opps. And the next one.

So in this book we're going to have some hetero romance! Prepare for me to not be able to relate to any of this. How cute can a guy be, really?

Rachel has faster reactions than a crocodile! Impressive. I'm sure it being life or death helps though. I think a small crocodile is the largest animal I could take in a fight (on land)

Morph a crocodile to protect dumb kid who fell into enclosure :D

Proceed to try and eat the kid yourself D:

Curious as to why she felt sick when acquiring the crocodile, maybe there is a limit on how many morphs you can have? But does Rachel even have the most morphs? I have not been keeping track

The word cute is starting to lose all meaning. Please! A different adjective!

Uh oh uncontrollable morphing. That could get very bad. Already almost crushing your family members, wouldn't be an Animorphs book without a horrifying scenario being presented!

Ha I appreciate Rachel pointing out that avoiding a worse outcome in a bad situation does not exactly make you feel lucky

Was proud that Rachel is actually telling somebody what was wrong but now she wants to hide it from Jake. What are the odds she'll end up doing a mission and morphing out of control? Ah Rachel, I guess it's in character for you

I don't think I have ever gotten room service. Is it good? Should I add that to my bucket list?

Chapman you are an idiot. Or were you thinking 'oh god they've started fursuiting at school'

I guess these books are set quite close together but I do wonder why they don't spend more time just running around acquiring as many animals as possible. Assuming there isn't a limit. That's what I'd do if I could shapeshift, have a whole roster of animals for any occasion. Would mess up the books pacing though to be fair

Ok what if this weird morphing Rachel's going through is literally like the morphing equivalent of an illness? She's just got an alien cold

Me rolling my eyes at this Jeremy Jascon McCole and they they hit me with '<His favorite color is crimson,> Cassie said. <It’s so cool. He didn’t just say “red.” He said “crimson.”> I'm SCREAMING I SAID THE EXACT SAME THING AS A KID TO LOOK COOLER

I LOVE seeing new Visser morphs. Spear throwing fish is awesome, and plausible! Although not sure how the spears go from being on it's back to in it's mouth

Huh I sort of guessed right? The morphing problem is an allergy, that's kind of like an illness. Now she has to vomit an entire crocodile. Infinite crocodile glitch

Cassie is going to morph Rachel. Very interesting! I did wonder if they'd explore this side of morphing when we saw Ax morph a human, and also Jake at one point, but thought maybe it'd stay exclusive to him. I hope they might continue to use this ability, there's so much you could do with it

What's with a bunch of these predator animals going into instant hunting I-must-eat mode the second they're morphed? You'd think they'd want to take stock of their surroundings first. Especially if they're confused in a new environment, the first instinct is safety, not food

This crocodile escaping from her skin is gnarly

MARCO WAS THAT ATTEMPTED MURDER

Well that was a very chaotical ending. (Is that a word? It should be). Pretty enjoyable, and actually got a lot of laughs out of me!

#Animorphs #Animorphs Aloud #audio book #reading #book #books #the animorphs #first impressions

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earthling-wolf · 2 years ago

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Ti Platonism

Ti is a function that defines an object by its essential nature (Ji) while experiencing the object as having an inanimate (T) character. Objects are registered platonically, thus triggering an impersonal relationship to that object's character, causing it to be understood from a universal, general, and removed place. This occurs even if the objects are technically alive. In this case, the entities are registered by their universal and general properties as instances of timeless human forms rather than as specific living essences.

Search for Universal Axioms

While it might be said that all types seek a truth of a sort, the quest for truth has a particular meaning for the Ti user. They are not satisfied with acquiring information, and indeed, they generally avoid information but are instead drawn to eternally narrow their search down to what they believe is the core of a thing - beyond the senses and the confines of space or time. They will aim to eliminate as much as is unnecessary until only the essence remains. To them, truth means landing upon some elusive and singular convergent principle or nexus that gives formulation, symmetry, and justification to everything else in the conscious universe. The Ti user is on a quest for a philosopher's stone. They will dig for it in all manner of philosophies and theories of the mind, which can cause them to become obsessive in their pursuits and abandon all sense of context in their research. They may forget that they are not making tangible progress towards any scientific or objective aim but instead are diving headlong into a conceptual challenge. Indeed, it is an epistemological challenge with the bait of the One Truth at the end, which they chase. Moreover, whether the Ti user ever knows this truth is irrelevant to the visceral belief in its existence. Even if they have come to doubt all truth and have entered an existential dead end in their pursuit so that they only know that they know almost nothing, they were led into this territory by an inarticulated but deep-rooted suspicion that something is there just waiting to be crystallized into knowledge.

Reductionism

For the Ti user, the world is often seen as a place of incongruences and complexities, paradoxes and mysteries. Everything operates from unchecked assumptions on top of assumptions with no explanation for why any such thing is to be believed. The world seems utterly chaotic and nonsensical, which causes great stress, especially in pursuing axiomatic truth. In order to alleviate this, Ti often executes a reductionistic methodology wherein all unjustified things are negated to eliminate all untruths and see what is left. In its purest sense, Ti will not wish to adopt any form of knowledge or information if it does not understand its underlying formation. It will feel that if the starting premise within them is incorrect, the entire foundation is faulty, and all else that can be built from it will be askew. Therefore, it obsesses over the accuracy of the first few blocks and cornerstones of its epistemology, forcing Ti often into an infinite regression loop of doubt. If told "go to school," then one may think, "What is school?" and from there, proceed to ask, "What is a degree?" and "What makes the knowledge gained at a school desk more valid than what is self-taught?" This can be frustrating to family members as it may appear that the Ti user is rationalizing their way out of responsibility when, in reality, they are contending with the existential questions of meaning, value, and purpose - which often must be addressed for them first before a single finger can be lifted towards a task. This can be problematic as Ti will tend to reduce social norms/ideas/things down to parts without putting them back together. These thoughts will occupy the Ti user's mind continually and may cause things to lose their value as the process of reduction strips away all meaning. At its most extreme, this can lead to existential dilemmas and nihilism even when nothing in life suggests a reason to be unhappy. As Ti is a subtractive process by nature, it acts as a diagnostic process that identifies misalignment in any premises system. Hence, it tends to be far better at identifying what things are not than what things are. It is often up to the other functions to counterbalance Ti's influence and provide positive affirmation for reasons, motivations, and purposes.

Castle Construction

However, if enough of a theoretical foundation has been set in the Ti user's mind, then a crystalline structure emerges at the core of their being. Like the growth of an ice crystal from water, a theoretical castle begins to form. Each block of this castle is a premise or argument that helps structure the incoming information of reality in such a way as to create an interpretive scaffold. For Ti, this scaffold serves as a sort of Rubik's cube or kaleidoscope that allows the complexities of life to be viewed and understood from a convergent point. Should there ever be a mismatch between the reality outside of them and the kaleidoscope's prediction, the Ti user hurries to try to reformulate and refine their instrument (to fix the Rubik's cube), but an instrument they must use. The Ti user does not interface with reality directly but does so through this instrument, which acts as their proxy and go-between and allows them to make sense of things without necessarily needing to engage in the difficult task of materialism or empiricism. This leads inescapably to forming a personal theory, often beginning with the phenomenology of the mind/consciousness. One such example of a crystalline theoretical structure is René Descartes' "cogito ergo sum," which, through his efforts and thoughts, was the cornerstone he came to develop and which helped him make sense of all other premises that cascade from this first axiom. However, each Ti user may place a different conclusion as their starting premise. For some, the fundamental principle may be consciousness; for others, it may be bodily experience; and for others, it may be God or love.

Ontology & Linguistics

The Ti function is inherently philosophical, producing in the Ti user a gravitation towards what we might call ontology. It becomes essential for the Ti user to define things in and of themselves. In this sense, Ti seeks to describe reality absolutely and almost as though they were to vanish themselves from existence. It must be able to be true without them in the picture; otherwise, it is not valid. Ti seeks a timeless abstract definition for everything by this metric. The Ti user usually seeks to encapsulate the essence of a thing through semantic precision, meticulously working out where the boundaries lie between two adjacent thought groupings. There is little more satisfying to them than when data suddenly clicks into perfect arrangement, revealing a fundamental truth. The Ti user lives for these rare and magic moments of clarity, and by engaging in this differentiation process, they gain a firm mental grasp on the world, dissipating the fog of the unknown. The further the Ti user is from clarity of definition in their thoughts, the more internal dissonance will be felt. This can also make the Ti user a bit of a grammar nazi, and their semantic proclivities can lead them to spend hours discussing starting terms without ever making headway related to the real-world problem in question. The Ti user may be highly stimulated by such a discourse even though the original point of the discussion has been left far in the past. More than a few Ti users thus take to linguistics for their proximity to philosophy and their capacity to organize the very structure of our knowledge paradigms.

Perfectionism

Additionally, there is a perfectionist quality to the Ti user wherein their desire for purity of logos is at once a desire for purity of the self. Indeed, the Ti user's success in building this logic framework is tied to their sense of identity, as they may view themselves primarily as truth-seekers and truth-speakers. There will be an ethical quality to their pursuit, which manifests in a value of neutrality, honesty, authenticity, and clarity. Lack of neutrality, honesty, or clarity will be sensed as a transgression that they avoid in their behavior and may depreciate in others. As a compass function, Ti will strive for a type of nobility of character that it can sustain only if it feels honest with itself and avoids as many impurities as possible in its thinking. This high personal standard can cause the Ti user to become entirely mute as their ignorance forces them to retract any opinion or utterance they cannot firmly stand behind. The strong Ti user may be a very silent presence at school or in the workforce, speaking only occasionally and after minutes or hours of reflection on what he wishes to say. If their logical devotion is towards an art project or creative endeavor, the same bottleneck may appear, causing them to hesitate to publish any works until everything feels perfect. They may feel their works are never quite precise enough and will spend countless hours refining them, aiming for their writings, paintings, or manifestations to capture their thoughts and intentions without compromise. This can lead to negative feelings and self-blame for mistakes or misinformation.

Stubborn Alignment to Framework

While the Ti user may not know many things, he will stand firm by what he does know. The Ti user can be stubborn and difficult to negotiate with if they have fixated on specific ideas they feel are true, and so long as their idea remains in their head, their heels remain sunk in that interpretation. This can make them impractical in many real-world situations when the consequences of their carefully crafted definitions collide with specific necessary actions and obligations. They often refuse to participate in something that seems necessary to some but misaligned to them. Moreover, while no pressure, external circumstance, or logistical necessities can bend their opinion, a properly aimed rebuttal can radically shift their stance in moments. The Ti user's logical apparatus operates like a lock combination. When the right inputs (deductions) are received, the gates of their thoughts suddenly reconfigure, allowing for a completely new mental trajectory to be possible and new actions to emerge from them. However, without this reconfiguration, they may remain deadlocked in certain conclusions or philosophies even when those conclusions harm them. The strong Ti user must reason his way out of a particular conceptual hole and cannot simply ignore it or choose a more convenient path that does not fit into the structure and rules of their self-made castle.

-Behaviors Under Stress

Emotional Shutoff

When the stress and gravity of life cause a fall out of emotional health, the strong Ti user's already faint emotional energies become even more deeply coveted. Unable to operate meaningfully in the environment, they will flee entirely from the world and into a protective barrier. They will shut off emotionally and may become suspicious and avoid intrusions to their private space. This can lead to a very isolated experience where they feel they can only rely on themselves to figure out the answers to emotional problems, which are often treated as intellectual problems. Driven equally by feelings of self-sufficiency and fear of emotional openness, they will aim to shoulder their pain alone.

They will meet the problem with callousness. What is not felt cannot hurt, and here, their natural capacity for dispassion is repurposed and used to strip power away from the heart. They may sever their connection to others with surprising ease and forget the magnitude of their inner affect. What is non-ideal is rejected as they continue pursuing the ideal in themselves and others. However, the content remains present but buried in the unconscious, and they may harbor unresolved feelings for years at a time – often freezing their heart in the process. Merciless as they may be, they will intellectualize their decisions, satisfying their need to act from just premises and retain a proper sense of self.

Wailings and charged emotional reactions may be perceived as irrational, inappropriate, and to be avoided. However, as stress accumulates further, their logic will become gradually distorted as they aim to rationalize what is essentially an emotional objection. Unable to clearly and cathartically convey their heart's voice, having stripped it of its power, their inner pains will emerge through distorted logical arguments and skewed claims. Their tendency to intellectualize matters of the heart will lead them to push the narrative into a form that aligns with their repressed feelings. As their stress furthers, they may disconnect themselves from others entirely and fall into schizoid tendencies.

Hyper-Focus on Imperfections

In another scenario, if the Ti user's heart remains open, they meet the problem with honesty of feeling. In their pursuit of authenticity of self, they allow the full gravity of their situation to hit them, and they familiarize themselves with their darkest disappointments, losses, and despair. Because they are perfectionists, they will turn their attention to themselves to understand what is wrong. They may come to feel responsible for all that is not going well in their life and will be prone to episodes of melancholy and deep ruminations about their shortcomings. Worse yet, if a conclusion emerges ("I am horrible," "I am responsible") that cannot be rationally refuted, be it true or not, they will need to continue believing it in order not to betray their compass, even if believing such a thing causes continual pain. Moving past certain damages can be challenging unless their paradigm changes to reinterpret their past in a way that puts them in a more merciful place. They will have trouble accepting positive emotions just for the sake of it, without cause to feel positive. They will feel dubious about any trajectory of healing that is not somehow justified in a certain sense. In this way, they do themselves no service; holding onto their negative beliefs so adamantly can be the cause of their demise.

#Cognitive Typology #Cognitive Functions #Introverted Thinking #Ti #INTP #ISTP #Behaviorism #Platonism #Search for Universal Axioms #Reductionism #Castle Construction #Ontology #Linguistics #Perfectionism #Stubborn Alignment to Framework #Emotional Shutoff #Hyper-Focus on Imperfections #Void

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phantomspren · 2 months ago

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I have acquired stickers! And I have things to say about them so BUCKLE UP. :p (I will talk about more than tuberculosis, I promise.)

I have tuberculosis stickers now! From Partners in Health!

While they are very neat and all, I'm going to use this as an opportunity to tell you guys to EMAIL YOUR REPRESENTATIVES (if you're in the US).

Here's an email from the TBFighters that sums things up much better than I can. (The End TB Now Act is a thing that will allocate more funding to fighting TB.)

First link

Find your rep

Email template:

Hello [REPRESENTATIVE],

My name is [NAME] and I am a constituent from [TOWN, ZIPCODE], I am incredibly concerned about rising cases of tuberculosis in the USA and around the world. I am urging [NAME] to PLEASE contact members of Congress on the appropriations committee to include the End TB Now act in the Continuing Resolution on the budget for 2025. The End TB Now act is a reauthorizing bill for USAID’s TB program that has passed the Senate this year and has broad bipartisan support. It’s a fantastic bill that will help USAID continue its lifesaving work around the world. (If emailing: More on the End TB Now act can be found here: https://results.org/wp-content/uploads/End-TB-Now-Act-One-Pager.pdf). The support of [REPRESENTATIVE] means so much to me and my family.

Thank you.

[NAME]

[TOWN, ZIPCODE]

Note: you can also check and see if your representative is part of the appropriations committee on the appropriations committee website. Mine is, so I changed the emails I've been sending a bit.

If you guys would be willing to take a few minutes to send this email, it would mean so much to me and everyone else who's advocating for better access to healthcare.

If you want to learn more about PIH's work, they have recently made the documentary about them, Bending the Arc, free to watch! It's fantastic. I watched it in two of my anthropology classes last year. The TBFighters website is also a fantastic resource.

Aaaaaaand I got stickers and a pin from @sparkbirdmusic !

Their music is super fun, you should definitely go check them out. (If you enjoy groups like The Crane Wives, you'll probably enjoy their stuff.) Circle Maker is my personal favorite, and the song that my friend used to introduce me to them!

SPEAKING OF

They're also a Magnus fan! WHICH MY FRIEND DIDN'T TELL ME *AS I WAS SITTING THERE WITH HER IN MY JON COSPLAY AT FANX AFTER HAVING SPENT THE PREVIOUS DAY WITH A HUGE GROUP OF OTHER MAGNUS COSPLAYERS.*

She was just like "you really like birds and they do a lot of stuff with birds and have birds you should listen to them." And I do love birds but there was another bit of very low hanging fruit there that would have been way more effective in my brainrot addled state. It was very fun to find out after having already gotten into their music though. :)

And speaking of Magnus....

A lovely sticker from @miloillustrates ! :D

It's very pretty and I'm very excited to put it. Somewhere.

Anyways those are my plugs. Go email your rep and maybe buy a few silly little things if you've got a few extra dollars. :)

Oh and the Vlogbrothers video today was fantastic. John talked about why his book Looking For Alaska is banned and why book bans are ✨not great✨

Okay that's all I have thanks for looking at my long thing byeeeeee

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justforbooks · 9 months ago

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In 1990 the Spanish writer Juan Goytisolo published a short essay called Paris, Capital of the 21st Century. By the end of the 20th century, he had decided that Paris was exhausted. The city of avant gardes, ideas, revolutions and class struggle, which had defined so much of European and world history, was now no more than a museum. As almost a lifelong Parisian and a lover of the place, Goytisolo desperately wanted Paris in the 21st century to retake its place as a great metropolis. But this could only happen, he argued, if Paris reinvented itself by “de-Europeanising” itself. By this, he meant it had to look towards the world beyond Europe, welcoming its sometimes dissident non-French, non-European voices to make itself a truly global city. Only in this way could Paris be brought back to life.

More than 30 years on from that essay, Simon Kuper has written a book about what it has actually been like to live in Paris during the past two decades. I have lived in the city for exactly the same period, in the working-class district of Pernety, and seen all the changes that Kuper has. The view from Pernety and the view from his hipster right bank world have not always been the same. He often underestimates, for example, the severity of racial and class tensions in Paris. To his credit, however, he is always aware of his limitations as a foreigner and as an apprentice Parisian.

The author, a journalist for the Financial Times, begins by describing his arrival in the city in the early 00s, a refugee from extortionate property prices in London. He finds in Paris an alternative economic universe, where decent city centre apartments were affordable along with a good quality of life that wasn’t dependent on a big salary.

Initially, Kuper bought into the shibboleth that Paris was a dead place – economically moribund, artistically bankrupt, something very much like Goytisolo’s museum. Over the years and decades, however, as he settled in, established a family and a way of life, Kuper began to change his mind as he navigated the unpredictable joys and vicissitudes of Parisian daily life. This involved wrangling with tough neighbours, taking kids to football matches in the banlieues (the outer suburbs, which are definitely not museum-ified), learning schoolyard slang from his kids (which contains a surprising amount of street Arabic), dealing with his wife’s cancer diagnosis, negotiating the daunting French social security system and, perhaps hardest of all, learning how to act as a proper Parisian – a performance that demands mastery of an almost infinite number of behavioural codes.

Kuper is a self-confessed “Bobo”, a member of the middle-class elites and as such most of the behaviours he has to acquire revolve around the right way to wear clothes or making the right sort of conversation. Above all, you should never appear to be provincial (an old Gaulish word, plouc, is still used by Parisians to describe out-of-towners) or from the banlieues (wearing sports clothes is a giveaway). As he learns to be a local, however, Kuper can seem a little too pleased with himself and there are moments when, as he yet again cycles down a lovely cobbled street to another designer coffee shop, you wish he’d get a puncture.

Nonetheless, Kuper is a clear-eyed observer of the history that is happening all around him. He witnesses the revolt of the gilets jaunes, which he notes are in part a protest “against Paris itself” (against people such as Kuper, in fact), sees the burning of Notre Dame, sweats through historically unprecedented heatwaves and copes with the pandemic. The most momentous – and terrifying – event that marked Kuper’s Parisian life was the night of 13 November 2015, which no Parisian who lived through it will ever forget. He was in the Stade de France when the first bombs went off, the prelude to a night of massacre that finished with 130 innocent people dead. Ever the professional reporter, Kuper keeps his feelings to himself, until a few days later he cries in front of a friend, broken by the strain of living in a city that seemed about to go mad.

Now the Olympic Games are on the horizon and Paris looks set to announce itself again to the world as a global leader, as the multicultural city imagined by Juan Goytisolo. For all of the transformations of the past two decades, however, Kuper is always alert to the city’s particularity. This is the immutable essence – to be found in the daily pleasure of the menu du jour or just the snarky, nasal banter at your local zinc (bar) – that makes Parisians love their city, and foreigners such as Kuper (and me) love it even more.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

#just for books #Simon Kuper #Impossible City #book review

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 2 years ago

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The Twelve Disciples Ch. 1

Summary: Pepper Davis is not unknown to the mob world, she’s well aware of the benefits and dangers of this business, but what she’s about to find out is how dangerous it can be for one to stay in between a brother rivalry.

Pairings: Matt Jackson x OFC Pepper x Nick Jackson

Extra thank you to @writtingrose for being the beta for this first chapter

Warnings: +18

Tags: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @letsgivethisonemoreshot , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @baysexuality , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl , @tahiri-veyla

The gun nozzle ghosted over Pepper’s shoulder. Her intense gaze was fixed on the ocean outside their bedroom glass door. Nature seemed to mimic the chaotic rumble of emotions that was instilled in her the minute she heard the clicking noise of the gun being cocked behind her head.

This was madness, a silent suicide note. She knew the risks of his plan when she agreed to it. She knew her life would change forever as soon as she stepped foot inside his house. The only thing she wasn’t expecting was to die like this, by his hands. But then again, what else could she expect from him?

Three years earlier…

The 12-D aka The Twelve Disciples were the biggest and oldest mob family in the West Coast area of the United States. Currently being ruled by their third generation, they were vastly known for their fortune and success in drug trafficking as well as prostitution and contraband. The family had partnerships all over Europe and Asia and gained their well-respected fame by being ruthless, merciless, and discreet in their business.

Their symbol was a shiny golden cross, with a crown of thorns at its base, symbolizing their victory over their enemies.

Their symbol was printed all over their products: drug packaging, guns, and even tattooed on their prostitute’s left temple. This was the silent sign and warranty that one was acquiring an authentic 12-D product.

Even though the family was involved in drug trafficking, none of its members consumed any kind of drug or alcohol and that was an important quality one should have before becoming a member of 12-D.

All of this sounded crazy to Pepper’s ears, and she remembered mocking Matt about it when they first met.

“What kind of drug lord doesn’t taste his own product?” She teased with a wicked grin as Matt’s face grew serious “One who doesn’t wish to end his own empire” He took a sip of his Perrier and pulled her closer to his embrace “My goal is to make other people addicted to my product, not myself. Grandpa used to say that a man who uses his own product is a fool. For he will either become his biggest client or his own bankrupt’. We have the right people to perform a quality test if you will, but neither I nor my family have used any of our stuff. And that includes you, little dove. I want a lover, a girlfriend, a friend. Someone I can talk to, not the burden of a potential client who’s looking for some free sample, are we clear?”

“I can still drink wine during dinner though, right?” Was her teasing comeback as Matt only chuckled and answered “Yes, you can, dovey” Before pulling her head down for a kiss.

One year later…

“I don’t know, Matt. It sounds too dangerous” Pepper’s uncertainty could be easily picked up by Matt’s ears, which made him turn around to face the balcony, where she was currently looking for a lighter for her cigarette inside her handbag.

“You know I don’t like when you smoke. That’s not good for you” He stated, reaching into his pocket and fishing a lighter out of the fabric. Matt lit up her cigarette for her, and Pepper blew the smoke in the opposite direction of his face. “Well, too bad. Blame it on your stupid plan” Her hand shook as the white filter rested between her fore and middle fingers. Her brown eyes stared out the shore, watching the seagulls hunting their late afternoon snack before the sun went down.

“This is our last chance to finally take Nick out of the business, dovey. This will be beneficial to all of us in the future! For us to take full control of everything, we need to annihilate Nick for good” Matt’s hand cupped Pepper’s cheek, softly turning her face around so she could face him. “Help me, dovey. You’re the only one I can count on. Please, help me with this. Help me build our own empire”.

Pepper couldn’t believe she was agreeing to this madness. But when she found herself nodding back at Matt, she knew it was too late to go back now.

Now it was the time. In a week she would officially become Nick’s new personal translator and interpreter and she would have exactly six months to ruin his part of the business enough that Matt can take control as well as make him fall in love with her.

In a week she would cut off all ties with Matt and they wouldn’t know each other anymore.

In a week Pepper’s life would change drastically to the craziest and most irreparable nightmare she has ever lived.

In a week, Pepper would follow Dante’s steps up the Mount of Purgatorio, except unlike the character, she wouldn’t have Virgil guiding her through the path.

She would have nothing more than a vicious blue-eyed brother-in-law that was capable of the most horrid things. And that’s what she was afraid of, that instead of climbing up the Mount of Purgatorio towards the Paradiso, she would instead climb down back to Inferno. A place she would never want to go back to again.

One Week Later…

Pepper checked her makeup in the rearview mirror one last time before finally stepping out of the car. She took a deep breath in to calm down her nerves a bit, the intense scent of recently cut grass made her head spin and her stomach turn - all thanks to the crippling fear that successfully installed itself within her as she rang the imposing mansion’s doorbell.

A kind middle-aged woman greeted Pepper and quickly showed her the way inside the house, towards Nick’s office. The white marble floor echoed the sound of Pepper’s heels across the enormous living room, until the women stopped at the dark, imposing wooden office door.

The older woman knocked twice before announcing their presence.

“Mr. Jackson, your guest has arrived”

Pepper’s eyes were met by the stern blue orbs that softened upon her view. Nick abruptly ended his phone call with a sigh and motioned for Pepper to take a seat in front of him before offering her a handshake.

“Would you like anything to drink? Water, coffee..?”

“No, thank you, sir”

With a quick glance at the older woman who stood by the door, Nick smiled “That would be all, Flo. Thank you”.

Once the elderly woman closed the door, Nick began “So, Mrs.” He took a swift look at the folder beneath his palm “Davis”. The new last name still took Pepper off guard from time to time, even though that’s all everyone called her for the past week - including Matt.

“I’ve heard wonderful things about you! Do you mind telling me a bit of your experience?”

“Yes, sir. I have a bachelor’s degree in both foreign language and business. I have worked for several multinational corporations in America as well as internationally. I also have over five years of active experience in the field”.

“And how discreet would you judge yourself to be, Mrs. Davis?”

”Discreet enough to perform my job without disturbing your business” She answered firmly “None of this is new to me, sir. I have worked with a few acquaintances of yours in the past, which is from whom I presume you took my references from”

“And why would you presume that?” Nick asked with a subtle smirk

“Because, and I say this with utter respect, Mr. Jackson. This is an illicit field, sir. I doubt you would call a company like TransPerfect to ask for my references”.

“Fair enough” Nick chuckled, undoubtedly amused and satisfied with Pepper’s professional yet brutally honest answer. “And remind me again which languages are you fluent in, please?

“Yes, sir. I’m perfectly fluent in a total of seven languages and they would be: Arabic, Spanish, Italian, Russian, French, German, and of course English. I also risk some Japanese and Danish here and there but they’re not listed as official languages in my file because I don’t have a proper degree in them”

“Wow, that’s pretty impressive” Nick’s voice was filled with genuine admiration as he continued “If you agree with my proposition” He swiftly pushed the contract towards Pepper “You’ll have a schedule of 40 hours per week, divided equally between 6 days, which will give you a day off. You’re free to choose which day of the week is best for your day off as well as if you desire to live in a house or loft apartment we provide for our staff. Your salary would be equivalent to 250k per year-”. The enormous quantity made Pepper choke with surprise, causing a small cackle to leave Nick’s lips. But she managed to keep her cool while he finished explaining “If there’s a need for you to work overtime, that will also be paid aside from your monthly salary, and if for some reason I need your services during your day off, you’ll also receive extra for it as well as having another day of the week free and paid to fulfill for your lost day off”. He looked over at Pepper with a sly smile “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah,” She choked out “It’s a very generous offer, sir. And a lot to take in so suddenly”

“I understand. That’s why I’d like you to take your copy of the contract to further analyze it. Feel free to show it to a lawyer of your trust if you’d like to do so, but one thing I’ll ask is for you to stay in one of my hotels, at least until we have finished discussing your possible hiring. It’s for secrecy reasons”.

“Yes, of course”

“Great!” For some strange reason, Nick’s smile had a subtle hint of malice behind it “My contact - as well as my lawyer’s - is inside the contract in case you need further clarification and I’ll see you in, let’s say, three days?”

Pepper only nodded back before taking Nick’s hand in a goodbye handshake.

“Thank you for your understanding, Mrs. Davis. I’ll have a driver take you to the hotel”

“Thank you, sir. Have a lovely afternoon”

“So do you” Nick gave her a final goodbye as she left his home office door.

As she sat in the backseat of the comfortable Bentley, Pepper couldn’t shake the feeling that something felt incredibly wrong. She didn’t know what had made her so uncomfortable, but she would later find out, in the future, that this bad feeling was a silent omen for the tragedy that was yet to come.

#the twelve disciples series #matt jackson imagine #matt jackson x reader #matt jackson #nick jackson fanfiction #nick jackson x reader #nick jackson imagine #the young bucks #young bucks #nick jackson #masochist writes

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