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thepastisalreadywritten · 1 year ago

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SAINT OF THE DAY (December 14)

December 14 is the liturgical memorial of Saint John of the Cross, a 16th-century Carmelite priest best known for reforming his order together with Saint Teresa of Avila and for writing the classic spiritual treatise “The Dark Night of the Soul.”

Honored as a Doctor of the Church since 1926, he is sometimes called the “Mystical Doctor,” as a tribute to the depth of his teaching on the soul's union with God.

The youngest child of parents in the silk-weaving trade, John de Yepes was born on 24 June 1542 in Fontiveros near the Spanish city of Avila.

His father Gonzalo died at a relatively young age, and his mother Catalina struggled to provide for the family.

John found academic success from his early years but failed in his effort to learn a trade as an apprentice.

He instead spent several years working in a hospital for the poor and continuing his studies at a Jesuit college in the town of Medina del Campo.

After discerning a calling to monastic life, John entered the Carmlite Order in 1563.

He had been practicing severe physical asceticism even before joining the Carmelites and got permission to live according to their original rule of life — which stressed solitude, silence, poverty, work, and contemplative prayer.

John received ordination as a priest in 1567 after studying in Salamanca but considered transferring to the more austere Carthusian order rather than remaining with the Carmelites.

Before he could take such a step, however, he met the Carmelite nun later canonized as Saint Teresa of Avila.

Born on 28 March 1515, Teresa had joined the order in 1535, regarding consecrated religious life as the most secure road to salvation.

Since that time, she had made remarkable spiritual progress. During the 1560s, she began a movement to return the Carmelites to the strict observance of their original way of life.

She convinced John not to leave the order but to work for its reform.

Changing his religious name from “John of St. Matthias” to “John of the Cross,” the priest began this work in November 1568, accompanied by two other men of the order with whom he shared a small and austere house.

For a time, John was in charge of the new recruits to the “Discalced Carmelites” — the name adopted by the reformed group, since they wore sandals rather than ordinary shoes as sign of poverty.

He also spent five years as the confessor at a monastery in Avila led by St. Teresa.

Their reforming movement grew quickly but also met with severe opposition that jeopardized its future during the 1570s.

Early in December 1577, during a dispute over John's assignment within the order, opponents of the strict observance seized and imprisoned him in a tiny cell.

His ordeal lasted nine months and included regular public floggings along with other harsh punishments.

Yet it was during this very period that he composed the poetry that would serve as the basis for his spiritual writings.

John managed to escape from prison in August 1578, after which he resumed the work of founding and directing Discalced Carmelite communities.

Over the course of a decade, he set out his spiritual teachings in works such as “The Ascent of Mount Carmel,” “The Spiritual Canticle” and “The Living Flame of Love” as well as “The Dark Night of the Soul.”

But intrigue within the order eventually cost him his leadership position, and his last years were marked by illness along with further mistreatment.

John of the Cross died in the early hours of 14 December 1591, nine years after St. Teresa of Avila's death in October 1582.

Suspicion, mistreatment, and humiliation had characterized much of his time in religious life, but these trials are understood as having brought him closer to God by breaking his dependence on the things of this world.

Accordingly, his writings stress the need to love God above all things — being held back by nothing, and likewise holding nothing back.

Only near the end of his life had St. John's monastic superior recognized his wisdom and holiness.

Though his reputation had suffered unjustly for years, this situation reversed soon after his death.

He was beatified by Pope Clement X on 25 January 1675. He was canonized by Pope Benedict XIII on 27 December 1726.

He was named a Doctor of the Church by Pope Pius XI in 1926.

In a letter marking the 400th anniversary of St. John's death, Pope John Paul II — who had written a doctoral thesis on the saint's writings — recommended the study of the Spanish mystic, whom he called a “master in the faith and witness to the living God.”

John of the Cross was a great saint who was a reformer, a mystic, and one of the great Spanish poets.

He has inspired many other holy men and women to pursue God into the mysterious heights and depths of divine love.

#Saint of the Day #St. John of the Cross #St. Teresa of Avila

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frvnscos · 2 years ago

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◜Gabriel Graves Travers◞ ; ❝ i'm often painted as the bad guy, and the artistic part of me wants to hand out the brush. ❞

➥ character pinterest here.

◜basics◞

full name ; Francisco Gabriel Percival Travers (he goes by Graves professionally to avoid confusion with his husband) name meaning ; Francisco; free. Gabriel; strong man, hero. nicknames/alias ; Gabriel, Gabe alliance ; ex Death Eater age ; 41 date/place of birth ; April 18th, 1990 / Santiago, Chile zodiac ; Taurus blood status ; pure-blood currently lives ; London, England nationality/species ; Chilean-American / wizard, metamorphmagus languages spoken ; Spanish, French, English gender ; male orientation ; bisexual relationship status ; married to Jasper Travers

◜work / education◞

former house ; Wampus (would have been Slytherin if at Hogwarts) highest level of education ; he studied law after graduation

◜physical appearance◞

eye color ; brown hair color ; dark brown, almost black hair type ; curly height ; 5'11 body build ; athletic etc. ; his arms/back are covered in various tattoos, his Dark Mark, a snake tattoo down the side of his neck face claim ; Pedro Pascal

◜relationships◞

husband ; Jasper Travers daughters ; Ava Melody and Abigail Gabriella Travers

parents ; Percival Graves II and Camilla Silva ➥ he is extremely close to his father, but, since becoming a father, he’s cut ties with his mother and her family due to their involvement with the Dark Arts. he wasn’t close with her growing up and considered his father’s sister, Lisa Graves, more of a mother. step-mother ; Nora Martinez-Graves

siblings : Marcelina Graves-Weasley, Javier Graves, Bella Martinez ➥ he grew up an only child, but Marcie has always been like his little sister. Bella is his step-sister and Javier is his half-brother. Due to their large age gap, his relationship with them is more paternal. brothers-in-law ; Emmett and Dylan Rowle niece ; Poppy Rowle other family members ; Percival Graves (paternal grandfather), Lisa Graves (aunt)

ex-partners ; Emmett Rowle, Aly Rowle (ex-wife), Daniela Garcia (Abi’s mom) best friend ; Emmett Rowle close friend ; Victoire Weasley

◜personality◞

positive traits ; ambitious, confident, determined, logical. negative traits ; closed-off, dramatic, hot-headed, stubborn archetype ; the Anti-Hero patronus ; black mamba personality type ; INFJ - the advocate character alignment ; True Neutral etc. ; -

◜character-based playlist◞

Anti-Hero - Taylor Swift Bad Idea - Dove Cameron Toxic - 2WEI god sent me as karma - emlyn Look What You Made Me Do - Taylor Swift

◜short bio◞

Gabe was born in Santiago, Chile. His father was Head Auror of MACUSA. He met Gabe’s mother, Florencia, the astronomy professor at Castelobruxo, while on business in South America. His mom and her family had ties to Death Eaters and when Gabe was six, his parents got a divorce after his father found out. He took Gabe back to the States full-time, where he attended Ilvermorny. Talk of a Successor to Voldemort began during his last years of school and he found himself, by choice like his mother, mixed up in a group of American Death Eater sympathizers. Despite being a pure-blood, Gabe never had a strong opinion when it came to blood purity, but always had an interest in the dark arts and power. After he graduated, Gabe went to university to study wizarding law, all while still being an active Death Eater. However, he started to have conflicting feelings once the threat of war came overseas. Unable to safely leave, Gabe came clean. He was given an alternative to arrest, which was to train as an auror and work with them, using his extensive knowledge on Death Eaters to track them down. He eventually worked his way up to working as an investigator for the President, but accepted a temporary auror transfer in England after his cousin, Marcie, was involved in a Death Eater attack and nothing came of the investigation. He made the move permanent after he married his husband..

#[ 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ]#[ 𝗯𝗶𝗼 ]#[ 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗱 ]

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mspigman · 1 year ago

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My first story in the Valle Lozano cycle

A Name

The town of Valle Lozano was a place where time stood still. It was a place where dreams went to die. Or so, that’s what its townspeople said. They believed it all started with the name of the town itself. The founders, upon seeing the wide pastures and robust grasslands, knew it would be the perfect place for farming, and gave it a Spanish name meaning Lush Valley. It was as if they had placed all their ambitions on that single name, and the residents believed that from the moment the first sign dictating its name was forged into the ground, the town's fate was sealed. Of course, there had been a time when the place lived up to its name. It was lush. It was a growing community, with rising shops and businesses, and the farmers and the working people prospered. No one could have seen the imminent downfall that now characterized Valle Lozano.

If the townspeople had to pinpoint a certain event that marked the beginning of the end, it would have been the winter of 1923. An unexpected blizzard had fallen, making it the harshest winter on record, killing livestock, and people, and had sickened the soil in a way that it had not cured one hundred years later.

If one had to describe Valle Lozano now, it need no more effort than by using the colors yellow and brown. Yellow, brittle stems of dead wheat, brown, cracked dirt. The only semblance of life and color came from the lake at the far edge of town, which may or may not have been home to certain ghosts and spirits. But that wasn’t what brought Santiago Escarra to Lozano, and it certainly wasn’t what had made him find an apartment in the town nearby.

His decision to come to Lozano had actually been made the night before his eighteenth birthday. Santiago had grown up in foster care, never knowing his parents, or understanding why it was that they never wanted him. When he was twelve years old, despite his age, he was fortunate enough to get adopted. The Escarra’s were a loving, older couple in their late 40s who had never before been bothered about being childless. That was until one morning, they looked at their spare bedroom, the extra space at their kitchen table, and their wide living room and longed to hear the scamperings of an energetic child. They intended to adopt a younger child, perhaps a toddler, as most adopting couples do. But when they set eyes on the young boy and looked into his deep, sad, chocolate eyes, and ruffled his wild, spirally, thick head of light brown curls, they knew he was for them.

Sebastian had been shy when they first brought him home and overly polite but over time the kindness and affection of the Escarra’s had warmed him and put him at ease. He became the energetic, rambunctious child they had envisioned for their home. Sebastian and the Escarra’s felt that they finally had the families they longed for. Sebastian loved his parents, and though he always wondered about his biological ones, the longing for him that he had been so apt to as a child waned away. As far as he was concerned they were ghosts of his imagination.

Miriam and Robert Escarra watched the boy grow up into a young man with pride in their eyes, and a secret tucked inside their attic. Unbeknownst to Sebastian, when he was put into the system there was also a letter. It was given to his parents, and what the contents of the letter were neither of them dared to know. They assumed it was from his biological parents, perhaps they wanted to keep in touch with him, perhaps they wanted him to know where they were. The thought that Sebastian would discover their whereabouts and choose to want to be with them was an idea that neither husband nor wife could bear. So, for nearly six years they kept the letter hidden deep in a corner of their attic, and in the farthest recesses of their minds.

But when Sebastian was set to graduate high school, they knew it was wrong to keep it from him for much longer. He would soon be an adult, and he deserved to know the truth of where he came from. Even if it meant that he would distance himself from them. So the night before his birthday, they sat him down and showed him the letter. It was the first time he had heard of Valle Lozano, and the first time he learned his mother’s name. Stephanie. Stephanie Octavio. In the letter, she wrote her deepest regret for leaving him. She had him too young she said, and had broken up with his father, Cameron. She confessed to Sebastian that she never knew her parents either, and was sure she’d have made a rotten mother. She wrote down the only thing she did know of her family, that they came from a small, unknown town. Valle Lozano.

After he read the letter, Sebastian assured his parents that he was not angry with them for keeping it from him. After all, it had only confirmed what he had secretly always suspected: he had not wanted. He also assured them that this changed nothing, they were now and would always be his parents and his only family. Relieved, they went on as usual. Sebastian continued to grow up. He went off to college and got a degree in journalism. But what Sebastian did not tell his parents was that he decided to keep his mother’s letter. He snuck it into his pockets and kept it nearby, all through his young adult life. And on his 31st birthday, on the 100th anniversary of the blizzard that ruined Valle Lozano, Sebastian packed up his car and drove to the town he was certain contained the pieces of his past.

The entire ride to Lozano, Sebastian pictured what the town might look like. He created an image in his mind of a quaint, friendly town. He envisioned small colonial houses, romantic Spanish-style buildings, and a pleasant community of people who would greet each other as they passed by one another in the street. He also, in a quiet voice in his mind, wondered if he still had any family there. He couldn’t help but muse over meeting a cousin, or aunt, or a grandparent. He contemplated what they would be like. Would they like him, had they looked for him, did they know where his mother or father were?

These ideas kept him so occupied, Sebastian wasn’t even sure how he got to town without getting lost or getting into an accident. But sure enough, just before sundown, he saw the small, fading, wooden sign that read: WELCOME TO VALLE LONZANO painted in white cursive. He drove further, inspecting the town, and what he saw shattered his illusions. He saw nothing but emptiness. Large vacant fields with splotches of brown grass, colored with antiquity. Small ranch houses with broken porches and windows that gave the home a clear appearance of abandonment. They looked old, worn out, and hardened, as if resentful of being left alone for so long.

Sebastian continued to drive and saw nothing much different, except for a few convenience stores that looked as if they hadn’t changed since the turn of the century, their windows holding up posters and signs that had been faded by the sun. He began to feel disheartened. What if he came all this way just to hit a dead end? It did not even appear as if there were any residents left in town, and he wondered if he’d see another soul or even an animal.

He was considering turning around and returning home when he spotted a sign that read MAIN STREET. The street showed him his first signs of human life in the town, and he saw on the block more modern-looking shops like a bank, a restaurant, a grocery store, and even a library. Sebastian’s mood considerably lighted and he parked in the library.

He walked inside and saw a few people browsing. He went up to the librarian station and smiled at the young woman at the desk.

“Hello,” she greeted him, “If you’re looking for the highway, just keep going down this road and turn left at the church.”

“What,” he chuckled, “No, I’m not looking for the highway.”

The woman eyed him, “Oh, I’m sorry. I just haven’t seen you around here before. No one who doesn’t live here comes in unless they’re lost and looking for the highway. What can I help you with?”

“Well, I am lost,” he admitted, “I’m just not trying to find the highway. I’m actually looking for a family here. If you can help with that.”

“A family here? Well, what’s the name?”

“Octavio.”

She blinked at him silently at him for a long moment, “Octavio,” she repeated finally, “Goodness. I had always thought that was an urban legend.”

“Why do you say that?”

“There’s no family here by that name. At least not anymore.”

“There isn’t?”

She nodded, “The last Octavio was said to have left here… about 80 years ago.”

“That’s not possible. What about my mother? Stephanie? Stephanie Octavio?”

“I don’t think anyone lived here by that name.”

Sebastian let out a long sigh, “Great,” he said defeatedly, “I guess that does it.”

“If you want, you could search through our old newspapers. We have them going back all the way from the town’s beginning. You might find something there. I heard the Octovio’s were important people here.”

“Really,” Sebastian asked, his interest piqued.

The librarian nodded, “Oh, but I’m afraid if you want to do that you’ll have to come back tomorrow. It’s almost closing time.”

“Oh, right. Well, in that case, is there a motel around here that I could check in at?”

“I’m afraid not. People don’t really… they don’t really stay here, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah. I noticed that. Before I got here, I was beginning to be afraid this was a ghost town.”

“Oh, don’t think it’s not,” the librarian said.

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

The librarian sighed, “Well, it’s just this town… it’s very odd. We have a lot of superstitions here. Folk tales. Stories of ghosts and spirits that have always been around.”

“And is that something people around here really believe in?”

“Not really,” she shrugged, “It just makes us feel better.”

“About what?”

“About being here. It’s kind of a town joke that this place is cursed.”

“Why’s that?”

“Let’s just say this town has… quite a history. But you’ll discover it soon enough if you stick around some.”

“I think I might just do that,” Sebastian smiled politely.

He left the library soon after asking for directions to the closest town with accommodations. It turned out that not even the next town over had a motel, just a few sublet apartments. So Sebastian rented one. On his way out of town, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the name. Valle Lozano. Quite the ironic name for a town that looked like it was clinging to its last legs. But he couldn’t help but feel a certain kinship with the town. It wasn’t either of their faults that they had been abandoned. Was it the town’s fault that no one stuck around to water the fields or nurture the soil? Was it his fault that his mother and father couldn’t work out? He was reminded of what the librarian said. This place is cursed. If being left behind was a curse, then maybe he was cursed, too.

Sebastian did come back the next day. He was met by the same librarian from the day before, and she led him to the newspaper archives.

“You know something,” she told him suddenly as she watched him peruse the clippings, “The more I see you, the more familiar you look.”

He turned to her with a strange expression, “You don’t say.”

“Yeah, I can’t put my finger on why, though.”

“Could be an old family resemblance,” he half-joked.

She shrugged and went back to her desk. He chuckled to himself and read the newspapers he came across. He wondered how long it would take for him to find out anything about his family. The Octovios. Were they as important as he had been told? He would have to see. He was also curious to learn more about the town. The town with the ironic name, he thought to himself. He wanted to discover what exactly the curse was, and he wanted to see how much truth there was to it. If the town - and he - really truly cursed.

#shory story #my writing #long reads

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capsicrew · 1 year ago

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Okay, half of them had a process and the others were just off the cuff--

Jalliim-- So I came up with this when I was just downloading the up-to-level-30 free trail way back, so I had no context for lore or names. When making an Elezen, I saw most of the suggested names were, like, faux French-sounding names, and I thought something along the lines of placing him more geographically south of that, and since Spain was south of France, I thought I’d come-up with something fake-Spanish-esque. And what says that than J having an “h” sound right (like a jalapeno pepper--which inspired the shared last name)? lmao, from there I just kinda filled out the name based on how I felt in that theme, but not based on anything in particular. If it wasn’t clear before, his name is pronounced “ha-leem.”

Capsisi-- Originally, Capsisi wasn’t gonna be, like, a “main character,” so I didn’t put a whole lot of effort in the name. I wanted to keep the same last name Jalliim had as sort of a joke, but still fit in the naming conventions of a female plainsfolk lalafell. The last name doesn’t quite fit the naming scheme, with its extra syllable, but that’s fine.

Kola-- This one was kinda off the cuff. I was struggling to think of a name--and I fell back on a tactic I often employ when struggling to think of a nickname for, like, Pokemon or something similar--food names. Keeper Miqo’te have short names, so I wanted to keep it to 1-2 syllables and I like soda, so here we are. I switched it from a C to a K because... well I don’t remember if I had a good reason lol

Beutiq-- I actually tried to put in some effort into this one. I did some (admittedly not terribly deep) looking into both Mongolian names and words to craft a name for the boy. I tried just now to do the same digging because... I actually don’t remember the names/words I used to create Beutiq’s name ;; I do remember selecting two which I pushed together as a name, then altered the spelling due to the in-universe leaning on phonic spellings in this case, rather than a strict writing guide among Xaela tribes. I do remember looking into words and name meanings that leaned into my expectations for Beutiq as a character (or a parent for their child lol), and leaned into meanings for creating, beauty and strength. It was a complete accident that it also looks/sounds like the word “boutique,” which I’m going to say was an accident in-universe as well--so it’s always amusing when Tataru talks about her boutique to Beutiq. “Bow-tick,’ btw

Ejvi-- I started creating Ejvi after Veira were announced to be added to the game, but also started to name her before we had official naming convention guidelines. Fortunately, she wasn’t born in the Veira homeland, so it didn’t super matter. We already had a good guess that Veira names would likely continue to take Scandinavian cues for inspiration. So while perusing a variety of names for inspiration, I also half-joked to myself that, like Jalliim’s inspiration, they also use a different sound for J than exists in English, and I should lean into it. As Ejvi developed more as a character in my head, I also decided to try and lean into a nature-inspired name. Eventually I decided on Ivy, and bumped it into Ejvi. It was keeping in that theme that her Chocobo is named Kudju (kudzu).

And they also all share the surname of Capsicum. As I mentioned, this is literally named after the pepper plant. Jalliim Capsicum is almost just “jalapeno pepper” lmao, and then I just kept attaching the name to all of them. While I don’t have an in-universe explanation for why they all have the same name other than just “extremely wild coincidence” (nor, I think, will I come up with one), it did at least inform part of a couple of their backstories/histories--such as what Capsisi’s parents are like to just slightly askew naming tradition, and why Beatiq’s tribe is not one of the “official 51 tribes” (lore here allows for more tribe names than those 51, so I’m not too off the mark), and thus developing a whole family history there.

As an bonus, a quick look at the chosen names for their retainers; F’lossi Tia is literally named after candy floss, and thus why I tend to dress him in soft pink. Shambo Ro is literally named after the Roshambo mini game in Paper Mario: Color Splash--which itself is named after a false story on an alternate name for Rock-Paper-Scissors. Infinite Stars was me getting poetic in a space-themed Hellsguard name and Laikmund Widalds was, like Ejvi, me picking a real world-thematic name I liked before actual Hrothgar naming conventions were released.

WoL QotD: What made you choose your WoL's name? Does it have any important meaning or did it just sound nice?

Follow up: Is it lore accurate? If it isn't, why not?

#asks #kinda #names #jalliim #capsisi #kola #beutiq #ejvi #f'lossi #shambo #infinite #laikmund

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renaerys · 3 years ago

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37. For Blossutch 👀 can’t wait to binge read all of these lol -Star

37. “If you want to act like a slut, you can dress like one.”

T-posing for feminism.

This fic is part of a prompt challenge that is now closed to new requests, but you can read all the completed submissions here. Reminder that the challenge is to make everything SFW, so we’re getting creative here.

xxx

Dane Blakely was 140 pounds of protein powder in a five and a half foot body, and still he seemed to tower over anyone in his way. He’d cornered So-eun Park on her way to second period because he could not take a hint, and now there was no getting around him.

“I saw you with that loser at the Shankaplex on Saturday, don’t even try to deny it,” Dane said.

So-eun had her back to the lockers, but she held her ground. “Elmer’s not a loser, and it’s none of your business who I go out with.”

Rookie mistake dating the first guy who asked her out when she transferred to Townsville High School at the beginning of the year. So-eun had corrected that poor decision quickly, but Dane was one of those unfortunate guys whose parents had forbidden the word no in their house when he was a child.

“I’m just saying your standards have gone way down.”

“Oh my god, I’m not having this conversation with you.” She went around him, and he didn’t stop her.

“Yeah, fine. If you want to act like a slut, you can dress like one.”

There were not many people around to hear, and Dane didn’t shout it, but she suddenly felt a hundred invisible eyes on her all the same. Unthinking, she gripped the collar of her sweater dress and flushed. Her first instinct was to check the length of her skirt, and she flushed even harder, ashamed of her own weakness.

Her second instinct was to jump out of the way of class superstar Blossom Utonium, who’d been making her way down the hall with fire in her eyes.

“What did you just say?” Blossom confronted Dane, who immediately backed up…

…right into a T-posing Butch Jojo.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Dane whirled on Butch.

“The lady asked you a question, dude,” Butch said, still T-posing and taking up half the hallway.

So-eun was not the only person to wander over, curious about the confrontation unfolding at the Senior locker bank. From the moment So-eun stepped foot in these halls, she’d learned about the Powerpuff Girls, aka literal Superheroes walking among the mortals. Blossom and her Super sisters were known for interfering in fights and disagreements that got out of hand, since no one was going to go against a girl who could shatter your spine with a flick of her fingers. But Butch and his brothers tended to avoid getting involved in high school drama. So-eun had never even seen him more than twice since the school year started, and only then from afar. It was a big school, and he probably skipped more often than not. Not that she would know; she’d never exchanged more than a passing word with either of the Supers.

“All right, seriously. Get out of my way,” Dane said.

“Butch, don’t you dare. Not until he apologizes to So-eun.”

So-eun startled at all the attention on her. She didn’t think Blossom even knew her name. She was just the newest nobody on campus, one of a thousand students in the Senior class alone.

Dane seemed just as startled, and his gaze flickered to So-eun just staring openly over Blossom’s shoulder.

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” Blossom said. She had the audacity to snap her fingers in his face.

To Dane’s limited credit, it was easy to forget what Blossom was capable of when she came in such a pretty pink package and a mountain of red hair. “Take a number.”

He tried to get past Blossom this time, and she T-posed to match Butch behind him. The sight was so absurd that So-eun had to cover her mouth not to laugh at Dane whirling in between them like a confused dog confronted with stair guards on all sides.

“What is this?!”

“This is the part where you apologize for slut shaming So-eun,” Blossom said.

“Wow, that’s weak, bro,” Butch said.

“I didn’t!”

“Did that sound like an apology to you, Butch?”

“I think the fuck not.”

More students had gathered around to witness the bizarre turn of events, including Elmer. He casually slipped his hand into So-eun’s. “What’s going on?”

So-eun shook her head. “I think it might be justice.”

“I’m gonna be late for class, just—move!” Dane tried to duck under Butch’s arm, but he bent at the waist (still T-posing) and Dane only succeeded in smacking his head against Butch’s rock-hard tricep. He swore and ping-ponged back into Blossom, bounced off of her knee, and ended up on his ass on the floor.

“Butch, he’s fallen to the floor,” Blossom said.

“Should we help him up?”

“Unfortunately, we’re contractually unable to help unrepentant slut shamers.”

“So unfortunate!”

Dane, now red in the face and breathing hard from the stress, scrambled to his feet by himself. He frothed at the mouth. If Butch were anyone else, So-eun was one hundred percent sure he would have punched him. “Fuck you both.”

“Hey Blossom, is fuck you both Spanish for I’m sorry, you think?”

“I’m afraid it simply isn’t!”

“What a shame!”

The late bell rang, and Blossom didn’t so much as waver from her T-pose. She didn’t care that she’d be marked as tardy. She was not leaving until Dane apologized, and no one else was leaving until she did. Dane seemed to come to the same conclusion as So-eun.

“All right, Jesus Christ. I’m sorry, okay? Fuck.”

“I’m sorry for what?” Blossom swung open her T-pose and looked directly at So-eun, and so did everyone else.

Dane gnashed his teeth. He glanced around at all the other students watching him, recording everything on their phones, not a single person worried about the consequences of being late for class. Finally, he looked up at So-eun, and she squeezed Elmer’s hand harder. “I’m sorry…for slut shaming you.”

Butch whooped. “He did it!” He went in for a high-five with Blossom, and the smack sent a seismic ripple through the hall that rattled the lockers.

“He sure did! Give it up for Dane Blakely, everyone!” Blossom clapped, and others clapped with her. Soon the hall erupted into hoots and hollers of Congratulations! and You did it! as Dane stomped off even redder than before and people recorded his every humiliating moment on their phones.

Everyone dispersed soon after when some teachers came out into the hall to investigate the racket, and So-eun was one of them. When lunch rolled around and she looked around the cafeteria for Elmer, who’d promised to meet up, she found him waving from a table she’d never in her life have expected to sit at.

Bubbles scooted over to make room for So-eun in between Elmer and herself. “Hi, So-eun! We’re in the same block for History, right?”

“Um, yeah?” Of course So-eun knew that, but it was a big class and Bubbles was Bubbles and everyone knew her name like they didn’t know So-eun’s and this was just too weird.

On Bubbles’ other side was Boomer playing a game with Buttercup on someone’s cell phone, while Brick had his Beats on as he copied some of Blossom’s notes and ignored everybody. Blossom herself sat across from So-eun and smiled.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve properly met. I’m Blossom.” She actually held out her hand to shake as if she weren’t one of the few people every single person in school knew.

So-eun let out a squeak that must have passed for hi, because Blossom smiled wider and elbowed Butch next to her, who was busy shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“Mmph,” Butch said, waving to So-eun.

“I’m sorry…what’s happening?” So-eun asked.

“Halo Infinite is happening!” Mike Believe, Wes Goingon, and Kim Chan slid in around Brick and Blossom. “Todd got the advance copy and he’s hosting this weekend!”

Brick looked up from the notes for that one. “I call dibs.”

Bubbles giggled. “You get used to it,” she whispered to So-eun like they were old pals.

What was happening was that her sort of maybe new boyfriend, Elmer Sgloo, had neglected to mention that he’d been close friends with the literal Powerpuff Girls since kindergarten, and now they wanted to welcome So-eun into their extended circle. As in, the definitely not a bunch of losers circle because it was the honest to god Powerpuff Girls and that was kind of a lot for one seventeen-year-old nobody to wrap her head around.

“Oh shit, you guys are going viral! Check it out!” Buttercup passed Butch her phone, which played a video of Butch and Blossom T-posing for feminism. “Who even is that loser?”

“Some chode,” Butch said. “Bane, or something?”

“No one important,” Blossom said as she leaned on Butch’s shoulder to watch the video. “Right, So-eun?”

So-eun put her shoulders back and popped a tater tot into her mouth, feeling like a champion. “Not at all.”

xxx

If you enjoy my writing, check out more of my fics on AO3, link in my profile. I’m currently updating Trinity House and The Alchemy of Us. Thanks for reading!

#powerpuff girls #powerpuff girls fanfic #blossutch #ppg blossom #ppg butch #september fic prompts

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a-snow-decahedron · 3 years ago

Text

A Flower's Guide for Happy Endings - Chapter One

Spanish version: coming soon

Summary:

Flowey witnesses the aftermath of the human's journey across the Underground, and tries to make sense of his life now that he's not in control of the timeline. Will it last? Or will he take desperate measures?

Words: 3892

Read on AO3: Link here!

Flowey was still processing the last moments of his life as he left the human's side and watched them cross the Barrier, leaving the Underground behind. The child had chosen to give him mercy, time and time again. The nonsense of this action was so overwhelming, he fled. He didn't pay attention to his surroundings as he moved through the hallways of the King's Castle in New Home. He just kept going, emerging at times to look at a certain turn or wait for the right time to move his roots to another surface. It was almost a matter of reflexes to him. After so many resets, he felt like he could wander across the Underground with his eyes closed and he would know exactly where he was. Environments were something he wasn't able to change, at least not by himself. He didn't find the idea appealing, either. People were much more interesting to interact with... Until they weren't.

There was a wide range of things that could happen at any time in the Underground, and he had done pretty much everything. Some things never changed, though. The Amalgamates were never freed; it was more likely for Alphys to give up than for the truth inside the Lab to come out. Toriel never left the Ruins, no matter what you told her, or what happened outside the closed doors. Asgore never let him see the human souls, no matter how much he insisted. All his efforts were futile in a way, as none of it amounted to anything significant. All could be undone by his will, but not even those things he did held much meaning after a while. It was like watching the same simulation over and over again.

Flowey usually spent about a month or two at most messing around before resetting. In this timeline he had settled for waiting and not being an intervention as much as possible, until new days came by. It was incredibly boring, sadly. So he decided to do meaningless things to pass the time. Nothing much, not like pestering some Moldsmals ever achieved anything. He didn't kill, since that usually meant trouble, and the whole point of this was seeing a world without him. He also watched people he knew. Toriel carried on with her day; sometimes she fell asleep on her reading chair, with one too many cups of wine. Flowey may have given her some water one time, without a reason, simply to make an insignificant difference. Papyrus, a skeleton in Snowdin he had encountered after spying on the Royal Guard, was also an interesting monster to visit. He always had a remark or an anecdote for every place. He was full of such nonsense and contradictions, Flowey always got a laugh or two from his conversations. It was impossible not to play some tricks on him. Every once in a while he dropped predictions in their conversations, which the skeleton seemed to take very seriously at times.

And just when the timeline was starting to get too monotonous, he heard a loud noise on the Ruins, shortly after he had left checking on the flowers. That place.... it always reminded him of his sibling. Golden Flowers were their favorite. That day, at the Ruins, life took an unexpected turn: a human had fallen down, and with them, his control. Needless to say, he freaked out. Not only was this child a fallen human, they were just so much like them— but they couldn't be, could they? In the end. Flowey did what he knew best: got to know this human, acted nice, and then tested their reaction when he betrayed them. The stupid kid fell for his tricks, but Toriel stopped his movements, and took the child with her. The soulless monster, frustrated, tried to go back to his save point, yet he failed: another force was overwriting his mark in spacetime. From then, he decided to follow the human. and see what they did. Soon enough, he found out that the human was the one in control of the timeline, using it to get their way. Through the Ruins, the Snowdin cold, the dark Waterfall and the steaming Hotland, Flowey followed them, catching glimpses of their journey.

What came after the human spared King Asgore was a blur. His determination flowed in a chaotic way when he tried to reminisce about his attempt to take the human souls. It felt so good to have something within that wasn't just willpower fuel. He felt so good, so intense, so alive. That human kid was about to face his true power, to see what he was capable of doing. He had never met someone that could remember overwritten timelines like him, and he wasn't wasting his chance to make the most of it. But human souls are determined and that includes the six within him. They turned against him, and took him back to zero in moments. And then... well. He simply couldn't understand. His control was lost again. The human just needed one blow to finish him off, but they refused and crossed the Barrier. Why not even try? Why not give him the same pain? Why does it matter if he lives or not, anyways?

He was back in Snowdin town by the time his inner monologue had gone full circle, all caused by the human who’d come and gone in what felt like a mere blink. By the time he got to the town it was early night, the time many monsters had dinner. Snowdin had a system of streetlights that was usually too high for non-flying monsters to reach. They were powered by the CORE, and to tell apart day and night, they had set a gradual energy-saving mode that reduced the amount of lights during the night, synchronized with the time on the Surface. The lights were said to resemble stars. Real stars were prettier, but it did the job well enough for the thousands of monsters that had never seen the Surface.

Flowey was standing on a residential street, still muttering to himself, looking at the houses' windows filled with light and the smell of homemade food. He wasn't quick enough to hide after hearing a muffled voice and a door being bumped open. A yellow striped kid, holding a bag of trash with their mouth and on their way to the trashcan, gasped at Flowey and dropped the bag on the snow.

"The talking flower's real?!" They opened their eyes wide, like they had seen the surface. As Flowey tried to curl underground to leave, the monster child spoke. "Yo, don't leave! Papyrus told me about you!"

At the mention of the name, the soulless flower hesitated, then turned around "Howdy! I'm Flowey the flower.” He forced a grin. "And just what has he told you?" he asked, slightly squinting.

"Well..." The kid stared at a point beyond Flowey, thinking of their answer. "We just met today! I mean, I've seen him before, but we never, like, talked. I was on my way back to Snowdin after I left the human in Water— yo, did you hear a human showed up in town today? It's crazy!" They hopped excitedly, shaking their tail happily.

Flowey raised a brow and waved with one of the roots he pulled from the ground, signaling the kid to keep talking. He supposed hearing some gossip was good enough for now, until he figured out what to do now, or found a way to gain his control of the timeline again.

"I didn't know they were human at first, but man, they were so nice! I showed them some caverns in Waterfall on our way. I was so excited to see Undyne fight bad guys! But it turns out they, uhm, were the bad guy Undyne was going after?" They trailed off, looking for a way to follow their story. "She told me that the human was bad, that i could get hurt. And she tried to attack them! But they saved me so they can’t be bad! I had to show her! Yo I dunno what came over me, it felt like my heart was pounding out of my chest. But I told her, s-she would not. I was really scared, but I think it worked! And then I... left them to go home because my parents would worry if I was out late", they mumbled the last part, feeling their rush of energy decrease.

Flowey shot them an impatient glance. "Ok, got you. But when does Papyrus show up in all this?"

"Oh yeah! Right! We met when I was on my way to Snowdin. He said some things about using friendship for his duties as a future royal guardsman, and then we talked about Undyne. He said she is training him to be part of the guard- it sounds so cool! I wanna be just like him one day!" They hopped on one foot. "Then... I asked him about the friend stuff he said, and he told me he didn't have many friends, but Undyne was really close. And then he spoke of a talking flower, that had like, prediction powers. He said you gave encouragement, advice and stuff. I didn't think you were real, but man, was I wrong."

"Is that it?" Flowey raised a brow, getting tired of the kid's chatter. Maybe someone else would have liked talkative friends, but he had enough for that day, and frankly he just wanted to get healed. All the talking was making him dizzy.

"Yeah! It has to be you, right? Man, if we become friends I would break my friend-making record. Three people in one day! Yo this is so great." Their tail moved from side to side.

Flowey yawned, feigning sleepiness "Hey kid, it's nice talking, but don't you have anything better to do?" He pointed to the trashbag with his body.

"Oh right! I forgot. Thanks dude!" they said, picking up the bag with their teeth and walking to the trashcan on the sidewalk.

"Yeah, you don't want to get in trouble, right? I don't think your parents are very happy you went too far into Waterfall on your own with some stranger."

Flowey shrank a bit to appear smaller as the child walked towards him. "Before you leave, I need something. Do it for your new friend, wontcha? Can you get me a snack? I got in a friendly fight and my HP isn't the best right now. I could use some help." He pulled the most innocent smile he could, which was always convincing.

"Ok! Be right back, yo!" They dashed to their house and came out a minute later, pulling two cinnamon bunnies from their inventory and almost dropping them on the floor.

Flowey picked them up with his roots and saved them on his own inventory with a poof. "Thanks, kid!"

"Yeah, no problem Flowey!" They paused and then added "Yo, I forgot to tell you my name, it's M—" Before they had finished their sentence, the flower was gone, like it was never there.

As Flowey moved under the snow, he didn't notice the recent footsteps or the furry monster that made them as they made their way towards the Riverperson place.

Flowey emerged at the side of the skeleton brothers’ house, careful not to be seen. He took a cinnamon bunny, took a bite, and then tried to rest. Sleeping as a flower wasn't easy. It wasn't like laying down in a bed. He technically didn't need to sleep, as long as he had energy from the lights around him or food. As a plant, the most he could do was fold his petals on his face, and find a place where the wind wouldn't bother him and nobody would step on him by accident. Despite this, if he wanted to recover from his injuries, he needed to rest in order to restore his HP.

Flowey was making himself comfortable —as much as he could in a town like Snowdin—, when he heard a door shut strongly on the second floor of the house. It seemed people were at home. He moved closer to eavesdrop on them, but it wasn't necessary, as the speakers were loud enough on their own.

"So... I'm staying here tonight, right? Until I fix my house."

"YOU'RE ALWAYS WELCOME TO STAY HERE, BUT YES, WE'LL FIGURE OUT WHAT TO DO ABOUT THE HOUSE TOMORROW!"

"When do you think the human's coming back? Do you think they'll stay at the inn?

"IT'S WHAT I EXPECT, BUT MAYBE THEY WENT TO NEW HOME AND FOUND SOMEWHERE ELSE TO SLEEP? THEY HAVEN'T CALLED SINCE THEY GOT TO THE CORE."

"They better not be hanging outside late or they'll get in trouble with me."

"WHAT IF THE HUMAN'S NOCTURNAL?”

"Who knows? Not ME at least. Anime says all kinds of things that don't make sense when you put them together, like in some of them, some humans have cat ears, but in others that's not possible. At least they should have something cooler, like fins!"

"OR BONES! HMM, BUT WE CAN ONLY GUESS. PERHAPS THEY ARE NOCTURNAL, I HEARD HUMANS HAVE SOMETHING CALLED TIMEZONES. MY BROTHER TOLD ME ABOUT IT WHEN WE WERE TALKING ABOUT THE SUN..."

At that point Flowey stopped listening. Those two went over several topics, and whenever they didn't know something, they made it up with their theories. It was amusing in the first dozen resets, but by now Flowey had exhausted all possible topics with each of them...

Suddenly, he heard something that was new to him.

"SO UNDYNE, I SEE YOU ARE CARRYING A LETTER? IS IT FOR SOMEONE SPECIAL?" Papyrus inquired, teasingly.

A letter? Flowey had seen many letters. Several had been addressed to Dr. Alphys. He wondered why the fish monster would have one too.

"WHAT? Well, I don't want it to get damaged in case I burn down the house on accident again— BUT NOT FOR ANY SPECIAL REASON, it's just a silly thing I keep with me."

"WHO IS IT ADDRESSED TO, THEN?"

"Uh...."

"WILL YOU LET ME READ IT?"

"Absolutely NOT! It's personal!"

"SO IS IT FOR ALPHYS..." A pause. "YOU DID NOT DENY IT. SO WHY DON'T YOU JUST CALL HER, DELIVER IT, AND SEE HER REACTION?" There was the sound of a phone being unlocked. "I'LL DO THE PHONE CALL!"

"Papyrus, no! I need to rewrite it, it's not done yet! Give me the phone, darn it!" There was another pause. "Ok, thanks. Besides, she's probably busy fixing Mettaton right now. Did you see his new body? And BEFORE you make any remark on how hot or handsome he is, DON'T." Nyeh-heh-heh’s were heard in response. "Anyways, she must be busy, and I don't think I can just show her this letter. I'm afraid things could go wrong— I wouldn't know what to do!"

"FINE, BUT IF YOU EVER NEED ADVICE, LISTEN TO ME. YOU NEED THAT KIND OF BRAVERY IN YOUR LIFE" A clicking noise like a wink was heard.

"NGAAAH- shut up!" She lowered her voice. "Hey, if you don't mind, can you leave while I change my clothes?"

"OF COURSE, I STILL HAVE SOME OF YOUR CLOTHES FROM THE LAST TIME YOUR HOUSE BURNT DOWN. I'LL GIVE YOU PRIVACY."

"Thank you, now GET OUT." The door was closed. Strong pacing could be heard for a few minutes, before the window opened with a harsh movement and small shreds of paper were dropped one by one, “I really can't do it,”she muttered “It's too much. I'll make a better one soon. That will be the one.”

The humidity of the snow would soon leak into the remains of the letter and erase its message, never to be read by anyone. Well, not anyone who was meant to read it anyways. Flowey leaned closer and used a root to pick up a part of the letter. It took him five endearment terms and three uses of the verb love to know it was an excessively corny confession directed at the Royal Scientist.

It seemed almost atypical for the fish monster. However, Flowey knew better. During some of his runs he had experimented with the Royal Guard, testing their strengths and weaknesses. Undyne was a particularly difficult monster to deal with. Once you became her enemy, she would strike you down no matter what. Her green soul magic forced any monster under its effect to stay still and only use its own magic bullets as protection. Flowey, being soulless, was not affected by this kind of magic, but that still didn't make fleeing much easier. He had killed her the first time they faced each other, after dying to her several times. That had been the first timeline he decided to kill, throwing bullets at some of the weakest known monsters. Undyne had been furious, and decided to find the culprit and bring them to justice. When Flowey did manage to kill her, though, she resisted. With her last breaths, she kept on fighting, refusing to die. Her last words were dedicated to every monster in the Underground she swore to protect, and as she melted, she regretted never "telling it to Alphys". He had figured out what it was by other sources. The letter was just further confirmation.

No other monster had shown such determination to keep going, and those words rang in Flowey's head. Somehow, the possibility of making someone be honest about their feelings towards something —or someone else— made him particularly curious. He had tried to help her, more than once, but no attempt had been successful. He kept trying for a few more runs. Undyne's resilience reminded him of his own sibling. He thought that maybe staying determined and reaching, helping, and fixing things would... do something. Perhaps he had to be more like them, more like Chara. But he was hopeless now. Nothing he did ever lasted, nothing he did made him feel right.

"Hurts, doesn't it? Some things never change. She writes letters but she will never do anything with them." He dropped the letter and went back to rest for what was left of the night, hoping to restore his HP.

* * *

The "Riverperson'' was never just one monster. There were three of them. Their family had been passionate about sailing for decades; some said they had the reputation even before the war, and ever since monsters found a stream that connected all areas, the River family had dedicated itself to provide quick travel to everyone in the Underground. When it was nighttime, and most monsters outside were nocturnal creatures, only one of them was around. They gazed at the Snowdin port. All three siblings had great intuition, and that night, they agreed, was bound to be interesting.

"Greetings. Would it be possible to make use of your service tonight?" a soft voice asked.

The river monster turned to face the source of the voice and saw a tall white furry monster. They resembled most inhabitants of the small town, with a thick layer of fur covering their features. But something about their presence radiated a sense of grace. A good River monster made no distinction among their travelers, so they simply pointed to the empty space on their boat.

"Tri li li, where would you like to go?"

"Take me to Hotland, please,” the monster said calmly

The Riverperson took off with their only passenger for that ride.

It was late, but despite the time, a few nocturnal monsters could always be found wandering the streets, among the low-glowing lights. The sight of the new monster immediately sparked rumors, catching the attention of the few awake. From the forest, a Whimsun flew, carrying news from the Ruins. The great door deep in Snowdin forest had been opened, and its caretaker was making their way to the capital. Young monsters were perplexed by the story, but older, wiser ones knew this meant great incoming change for the whole kingdom. Nobody knew for certain what had become of Queen Toriel after the deaths of her children, but it seemed that the words carried by the small flying monster could be the solution to the century old mystery. Soon enough, word was spread in the snowy town among the elders. They were careful and cautious, not to make quick assumptions, but staying alert.

The ride across the cave system had not been long, but it certainly felt like eternity, even for a monster with such a long life as Toriel. She was worried sick, wondering whether the human child had been harmed. As she set foot on Hotland, and waved the Riverperson farewell, the feeling of unease only increased. She did not know where the child had gone. All the monsters she had spoken to had little to no information, seeing as they weren't awake during the day, and therefore hadn't seen anything worth noting. However, as Toriel walked through the dry roads, she noticed flyers, all related to a human kid that had been spotted in Hotland, as a guest on the Underground's greatest celebrity's shows. She walked faster, hoping to reach New Home soon. Time felt so slow, each step lasting a small eternity in her anxious mind.

By the time she had reached the castle, the artificial lights were starting to get brighter. She was determined to reach her destination. She could not allow Asgore to take another soul, and she was going to stop him herself if she had to. She would not let another child be hurt by him. Her steps covered longer distances, as she walked across the familiar hallways. Her breathing was fast, and her paws felt heated with anxiety, small fire bullets dancing around her fingers. She paid no mind to the monsters that walked around her, except to ask about the king once: a tall catlike monster indicated that the king was last seen at the throne room last evening, but was not seen leaving the place ever since. As she approached the throne room, an odd feeling made her magic shiver. There was no sight of the King.

She walked in, careful not to step on the golden flowers that decorated the room. In a way, both of them had remembered their children using those flowers. She shook the thought out of her mind, and she went across the room to a smaller entrance. That room had a single orifice at the ceiling, letting the first rays of the morning sun go through. No sign of the King, either.

She feared the worst.

She prepared her fire attacks.

She breathed deeply.

She stepped into the room that led to the Barrier.

She dropped her attacks, which disappeared in an instant.

Before her was a crown, and an armor covered in a purple cape. Dust on the floor, and an ear-ringing silence. A gardening knife was a few feet away.

This was the day the Underground's King had perished.

This was the day a human made it out of the monsters' world alive.

This was the day things would change forever for their kind.

The Queen took the crown. Her expression was solemn, and she braced herself to make the announcement known to everyone in the Underground.

"King Asgore has died."

#undertale #ut fanfiction #fic #ut fanfic #ut fic #flowey #toriel #undyne #papyrus #monster kid #geometric thoughts

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dornish-queen · 4 years ago

Photo

Pedro Pascal: “I already took all my drugs very early. In middle age, a hangover is not an option ”

When he was approaching 40, he resigned himself to having sporadic papers that would allow him to pay the rent. But playing Oberyn Martell in 'Game of Thrones' changed his life and opened the doors of 'Narcos'. Since then it has not stopped. Now he's the villain from the blockbuster 'Wonder Woman 1984'

JUAN SANGUINO

THE ANGELS OCT 2, 2020 - 3:19 PM EDT

The first big opportunity of his career was presented in 2011, when he participated in the pilot episode of Wonder Woman for NBC, but the network discarded the series and Pedro Pascal returned to his main occupation: casting castings to play the criminal of the week in the Law and order of duty. “That cancellation was a disappointment, of course, I wanted to work. I did not care if it was something good or bad, I just wanted to work, "he recalls today from his home in Los Angeles during a virtual conversation with ICON. Now Pascal plays the villain of Wonder Woman 1984 , one of the blockbusters destined to return audiences to movie theaters .

How can you not believe in fate? The boy who broke his arm twice playing Indiana Jones has ended up becoming the favorite hero of the kids (the bounty hunter in The Mandalorian ), his parents (Agent Peña in Narcos ) and, well, everyone's. world (Oberyn Martell, The Red Viper, in Game of Thrones ). When Pedro was little, the good guys were always white and the bad guys were Russian, Arab or Latino. The Wonder Woman 1984 villain , however, is a white billionaire played by a Chilean.

“The film is set in the United States of the eighties, which were marked by capitalist greed. It was a tainted concept of evil. Stripped of humanity, but still absolutely attractive and alluring. People who dreamed of being rich and successful had to be salivated. It is true that at that time villains in the cinema projected a xenophobic image. Now the white man can finally be the bad guy, ”explains Pascal.

Some already compare his character, Maxwell Lord, to Donald Trump because of that muck in this mud: Reagan's glorification of rogue moguls in America turned guys like Trump into aspirational role models and glamorous stars. “Trump was not the core of inspiration for my character, on our costume designer's board were Gordon Gekko [Michael Douglas on Wall Street ], American Psycho's Patrick Bateman and other suckers in expensive eighties suits. All those millionaires who hid despair, unbridled ambition and terrified masculinity ”, he clarifies. If Pedro Pascal sounds like a socialist infiltrated in Hollywood it is because that is exactly what he is.

“When Reagan was elected, many people around me were frustrated that the worst forms of capitalism were winning. In my home, with refugee and socialist parents, conservatism was not demonized but it did go against what was important to my family, ”he says. Pascal's father, José Balmaceda, was an Allende supporter doctor who saved the life of a priest wounded by Pinochet's militia .

The priest was later tortured and ended up confessing the name of his savior. When the police went to look for Balmaceda at the hospital where he worked, he took his wife and the newborn Pedro and jumped over the wall of the Venezuelan embassy in Santiago de Chile to request political asylum. That's why Pedro ended up growing up in San Antonio (Texas), in a socialist home but in Reagan's land. A Chilean with no memories of Chile who was called Peter in high school.

At the age of 20, Pascal was in Madrid working as a go-go and keeps good memories. Here she is wearing a Prada sweater. Photo: Danielle DeGrasse-Alston / Realization: Warren Alfie Baker

The Chilean-born but US-raised actor wears a Paul Smith sweater and suit. Photo: Danielle DeGrasse-Alston / Realization: Warren Alfie Baker

Pascal has never left the immigrant mentality behind. Even his father, who came to open a practice in California, always lived in terror that at any moment everything could vanish. “It doesn't matter who you are, how much you are working or how much you get paid. Deep down you always think that each job is the last one ”, confesses the actor. Maybe that's why he didn't dare move from his Red Hook, Brooklyn, hovel to a house more suitable for a Hollywood star until filming for Kingsman 2 and Narcos was over . Nor is it that he had spent more than an entire week at his house since, in 2014, Game of Thrones made him the guy most people would want to party with.

Pascal knew right away that Oberyn Martell, the Westerosi rockstar who always seemed willing to fight or fornicate with the same bravado, was going to change his life. “I had done a lot of castings for friends' plays, for copier factory ads or for very serious independent films that no one was going to see, while I watched how many characters that I had been about to play changed the lives of others. actors. And thanks to my experience and maturity, I recognized the potential of Oberyn. I understood who he was and who he could be ”, he presumes.

The actor found out about the audition when one of his acting students told him that he had taken the test but had been discarded because of his youth. Pedro snapped up and must have thought, “What would Oberyn do?” So he recorded a video on his phone and sent it to his good friend, actress Sarah Paulson . She passed it on to her good friend actress Amanda Peet and this one to her husband, David Benioff, one of the creators of Game of Thrones . The rest is the history of television and headaches: when he informed the Narcos producer that he was available to play Pablo Escobar's pursuing policeman, he accused him of making a spoiler for Game of Thrones: If Pascal had a free agenda, it is because Oberyn was going to lose his fight against La Montaña . He couldn't imagine, of course, in what way.

Part of that electric, lively and hedonistic energy of Oberyn comes to Pascal from the summer (that of 1996) that he spent in Madrid, where in addition to studying he worked as a go-go in a disco. That stay was transformative because the actor realized that he had had to adapt his identity all his life with each new move, but in Madrid he felt effortlessly at home. “I was 20 years old and I liked it so much that I almost moved. My main language is English, I have an American accent and I can pass for white. But in my house there were many cultural differences with respect to the outside world and I remember that when I was 20 years old, when I came to Madrid, I felt very comfortable in my own skin in a way that I had never felt anywhere else. I guess I was not aware that I had spent my childhood and adolescence learning new ways of adapting, connecting, learning, and pulling. On the contrary, living in Madrid was organic and easy for me. I made friends right away and I felt supported, ”he recalls.

By the time he was 40 Pascal was resigned to being an actor with enough odd jobs to pay the rent. According to him, his aquiline nose was a bad nose by Hollywood standards. Far from being offended or frustrated by this typecasting, he was looking forward to it, if it translated into a new check. “It is very strange to develop a fantasy as a child, to have the opportunity to turn it into a hobby, then some studies and finally transform all that into a career. That is the bet. But my dream of becoming Leonardo DiCapriodied. He died dozens and dozens of times. So to move on he had to accept that, at best, he was going to be an actor with a job. That was already a triumph, "he says. "Also, I accepted that I was not qualified for anything else, I had no more skills: I had put all my time, my energy and my concentration in being an actor and the rest in living life and having fun."

That absence of vanity lives on today, even when he's been involved in large-scale projects for five years without stopping. After Game of ThronesHe has made eight films, of which seven are action blockbusters. The wave of fame came to him when he was no longer expecting it but when he was well prepared to ride it. Still, every workday is a surprise and she acknowledges that what amazes her most about Hollywood is the sheer physical stamina that people have. “Sometimes a project can look like building a city, with all the hours, all the work and all the energy it requires. Some people have better stamina and can get by with little sleep. That is an interesting contradiction: all the people creatively involved in a film have a special sensitivity and at the same time have developed a very tough skin and energy to go through the physical experience of shooting it, ”he admires.

Then Pascal switches to Spanish (the language he uses to confess intimacies) and explains, in a few words, that he is old for this shit. “I thought I had all the energy in the world and now, in my 40s, I see that ... wow! There are times when I don't know if I will be able to reach the goal, because my energy is not at the necessary level. But I always take it forward ”, he guarantees. Maybe that's why people get so high in Hollywood. Pascal responds between laughter and again in Spanish.

“I already took all my drugs very early. It is something that is already too much in the past, and in middle age a hangover is not an option. No, no, no ”, she assures. What if the other hangover, that of the wave of fame, runs over you? “I was a good waiter. Not at first, because they fired me many times, but I ended up getting the hang of it, ”he jokes. If the Hollywood thing doesn't go well, you can always put drinks again. But for now Pedro Pascal is the personification that the American dream , although sometimes it takes a little longer to materialize, really exists. Even Ronald Reagan would be proud.

source

#pedro pascal #el pais icon #whole article

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thepastisalreadywritten · 2 years ago

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SAINT OF THE DAY (December 14)

December 14 is the liturgical memorial of Saint John of the Cross, a 16th century Carmelite priest best known for reforming his order together with Saint Teresa of Avila and for writing the classic spiritual treatise “The Dark Night of the Soul.”

Honored as a Doctor of the Church since 1926, he is sometimes called the “Mystical Doctor,” as a tribute to the depth of his teaching on the soul's union with God.

The youngest child of parents in the silk-weaving trade, John de Yepes was born on 24 June 1542 in Fontiveros near the Spanish city of Avila.

His father Gonzalo died at a relatively young age, and his mother Catalina struggled to provide for the family.

John found academic success from his early years but failed in his effort to learn a trade as an apprentice.

Instead, he spent several years working in a hospital for the poor and continuing his studies at a Jesuit college in the town of Medina del Campo.

After discerning a calling to monastic life, John entered the Carmlite Order in 1563.

He had been practicing severe physical asceticism even before joining the Carmelites and got permission to live according to their original rule of life – which stressed solitude, silence, poverty, work, and contemplative prayer.

John received ordination as a priest in 1567 after studying in Salamanca but considered transferring to the more austere Carthusian order rather than remaining with the Carmelites.

Before he could take such a step, however, he met the Carmelite nun later canonized as Saint Teresa of Avila.

Born in 1515, Teresa had joined the order in 1535, regarding consecrated religious life as the most secure road to salvation.

Since that time, she had made remarkable spiritual progress. During the 1560s, she began a movement to return the Carmelites to the strict observance of their original way of life.

She convinced John not to leave the order but to work for its reform.

Changing his religious name from “John of St. Matthias” to “John of the Cross,” the priest began this work in November of 1568, accompanied by two other men of the order with whom he shared a small and austere house.

For a time, John was in charge of the new recruits to the “Discalced Carmelites” – the name adopted by the reformed group, since they wore sandals rather than ordinary shoes as sign of poverty.

He also spent five years as the confessor at a monastery in Avila led by St. Teresa.

Their reforming movement grew quickly but also met with severe opposition that jeopardized its future during the 1570s.

Early in December of 1577, during a dispute over John's assignment within the order, opponents of the strict observance seized and imprisoned him in a tiny cell.

His ordeal lasted nine months and included regular public floggings along with other harsh punishments.

Yet it was during this very period that he composed the poetry that would serve as the basis for his spiritual writings.

John managed to escape from prison in August of 1578, after which he resumed the work of founding and directing Discalced Carmelite communities.

But intrigue within the order eventually cost him his leadership position, and his last years were marked by illness along with further mistreatment.

St. John of the Cross died in the early hours of 14 December 1591, nine years after St. Teresa of Avila's death in October 1582.

Suspicion, mistreatment and humiliation had characterized much of his time in religious life, but these trials are understood as having brought him closer to God by breaking his dependence on the things of this world.

Accordingly, his writings stress the need to love God above all things – being held back by nothing, and likewise holding nothing back.

Only near the end of his life had St. John's monastic superior recognized his wisdom and holiness. Though his reputation had suffered unjustly for years, this situation reversed soon after his death.

He was beatified by Pope Clement X on 25 January 1675 and canonized by Pope Benedict XIII on 27 December 1726.

He was named a Doctor of the Church in the 20th century by Pope Pius XI.

In a letter marking the 400th anniversary of St. John's death, Pope John Paul II – who had written a doctoral thesis on the saint's writings – recommended the study of the Spanish mystic, whom he called a “master in the faith and witness to the living God.”

#Saint of the Day #Saint John of the Cross #The Dark Night of the Soul #John de Yepes

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vanaglorio · 3 years ago

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VANAGLORIA : A STUDY IN HUBRIS.

HECTOR SOLORZANO. full name, HECTOR ALEJANDRO VELASQUEZ SOLORZANO. 27 years old, born on december 28th, 2994 in mexico city. cis man and uses he / they / doesn’t really care about pronouns. sold his soul to his family’s global construction and real estate empire and works as a civil engineering project manager.

SKELETON. DYNAMICS. PINTEREST. HISTORY & MISC. BELOW.

trigger warning: suicide, drug overdose

IMPETUS.

the concept of making some kind of lasting, indelible mark on the world that wasn’t gilded, silver-spooned and handed to him on a platter. the glory of having his own name mean something, beyond inheritance and privilege and absurd extravagance. creating something with his mind and his own two hands — in and of itself, an impossible feat considering all he’s ever achieved has had his family’s insignia stamped on it. but an ambition he holds fast to like a cardinal point on a compass

plain old kendall roy style retribution and succession drama baby. hector’s never forgiven his father for destroying his brother and despite his father’s best attempts to shape him into the back-up heir, he’s going to fuck this company up before he ever gets to inherit it.

hubris is his ultimate achilles heel and downfall. yes, irony thy name is hector. thinks he’s somehow smarter, faster, hungrier and more brilliant and than everyone around him. which is obviously not the case. this guy is playing so many games within games with enemies and allies alike, he couldn’t claw his way out of the matrix-style shit storm if he tried.

HISTORY.

only child, the demon, angle and beloved favourite all in one. originally born as the younger son. the spare, not the heir.

hector’s father is the CEO of the largest civil and engineering construction company in the world. their headquarters is in mexico city but they have subsidiary offices in madrid, london, tokyo and los angeles. hector’s mother is the heiress of the velasquez real estate empire, her family holding company owning substantial parcels of land all across south america, north america and europe.

his older brother, teodoro, was born 7 years before him. the consummate perfect son and heir to the empire — until, of course, he wasn’t. escalating parental pressure, crushing academic expectations, the weight of the world upon his shoulders. teodoro was no atlas. hector was 14 when they found his brother overdosed in a penthouse in saint-tropez while on summer vacation.

the process of priming hector to become the next heir was so swift, so damning, as to be almost surgical. teo’s body was barely cold and laid to rest in the ground before their parents began to talk about hector’s ‘future’.

hector never forgave his parents for what happened to teo. they were to blame, of course they were — they stood by and watched as teo slowly killed himself, until there was nothing left but his body to go. he was dead long before he swallowed his own heart and jumped on a one-way first class flight to the french riviera.

generally speaking, hector’s academic record was rather unexceptional until teo died and he had no choice but to perform in teo’s stead. and he did it, teeth gritted and eyes slitted murderous, the whole damn show pony circus show. the endless parade of meaningless extracurriculars: everything from debate club to swim team and lacrosse to mathematics decathlons. enough to fill a trophy room with lustrous medals, accolades, first place ribbons, and still not enough. hector could never live up to teo’s looming shadow, nor did he want to. it felt, somehow, like a betrayal, to prove he was better than his brother in any way. to validate his parent’s desire to mould him as the emergency replacement.

the only subjects hector enjoyed with any genuine passion or fascination that wasn’t feigned were classics and history.

enrolled into verdamme as a staunch fuck you to his parents who had astronomical hopes he’d attend MIT or stanford or ETH and get an engineering degree. (he did end up getting one, postgrad.)

was julian’s so-called right-hand man throughout all the years at verdamme and is also one of the riot club member’s who knew julian the longest. loved julian as much as he hated him and thought he deserved to die. one of the leading proponents of the #kill caesar movement. somehow not the most suspicious potential suspect.

the irritating bastard in class who barely tried but seemed to ace every single test. in reality he just has an exceptional short-term memory and mind for rote learning — in one ear, out the other, etc. very much the kid that seems to be napping for all of class and then pipes up to give the most bizarre, unexpectedly insightful comment in the middle of discussion.

fucks with people, their lives / hearts / hopes and dreams, as a way to feel something? inside? maybe?? notorious for being one of julian’s worst enablers but was also plenty responsible for his own schemes, manipulations and cruelties.

MISCELLANEOUS.

is currently engaged to the heiress of a spanish shipping company in the world’s longest running engagement. almost never wears his ring but mexican and spanish news outlets made quite a big deal out of it when it was first announced over a year ago.

speaks spanish, english, french and italian fluently. due to being your typical classics nerd, also fluent in latin and ancient greek. conversational in german and portugese.

general vibe is aloof, albeit quite disarming once he strikes up a conversation, laidback, chariasmtic, “chill”, able to talk to anyone about anything when he can actually be bothered to. also the guy with zero chill, secretly. we don’t talk about that.

endeavours to avoid personal drama at all costs that hasn’t been purposefully orchestrated for some kind of game but will enjoy the schadenfreude from the sidelines while placing bets on who’ll come out on top. it’s probably a gambling problem.

some kind of deep emotional trauma (re: parental neglect & then overnight obsession with him being the perfect replacement son for the dead brother) (re: aforementioned dead brother who is possibly the only person he’s ever loved) that prevents him from properly connecting to people on a deeper level beyond shallow, casual and purposeless sex

travelling is the one and only perk of his current job. he loves travelling, but in the niche struggling backpacker way that normal twenty-something years olds do, not the private jet lifestyle of a billionaire heir of a global conglomerate

collects obscure roman artefacts, specifically from the late roman republic, and has an antique knife collection. his favourite is a ceremonial gold dagger and sheath from the tomb of tutankhamun.

teo’s girlfriend left his dog, socrates, with him after the funeral, claiming she couldn’t bear to have the memory of him around her. he’s unironically hector’s best friend.

#𝐈. 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 / VANAGLORIA.

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minervacasterly · 4 years ago

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Queen Mary (I) Tudor -The Woman behind the Legend of 'Bloody Mary'

"As Mary continued to face Protestant treason she became even more ruthless, with the infamous burnings intended to eliminate what she perceived as a stubborn and destabilising minority. In our context we see Mary's actions as those of a fanatic. In her context she was eliminating fanatics, and of the most dangerous kind, incorrigible rebels against God and queen. But Mary also had to work positively, to build a future, and this unravelled in the face of her infertility and declining health. She failed in her ultimate duty to produce a child and this meant, once again, that the wider family was key to the future. Mary's preferred choice as her heir, was Margaret Douglas, could not compete with the claims of Henry VIII's second daughter and, as Elizabeth took note, it was the knowledge that she would succeed her sister that fueled the disorder and rebellion against Mary. With the loss of Calais in the last year of Mary's life it would be easy for her enemies to paint the young, Protestant Elizabeth's accession as a brilliant new dawn. It is as such that it is still projected. Mary remains associated with her late seventeenth-century sobriquet 'Bloody Mary', and an infamous recent advertisement for the London Dungeon depicted her face transforming into a demon-zombie. Elizabeth, by contrast, has been played in films by a series of beautiful actresses: Elizabeth is ever Cate Blanchett, fairy queen, to Mary's bitter, grey-faced Kathy Burke. Yet these sisters were neither simple heroines nor villains. Both were rulers of their time and we can only understand Elizabeth if we see, as she did, what the Tudor sisters had in common and how she could learn from Mary's example. Most significant for Elizabeth was the fact that Mary's Protestant enemies had sought to redefine the nature of a 'true' king. They argued that religion was more important than blood, or victory in battles -a true king was Protestant- and that all women were by nature unsuited to rule over men. Elizabeth's response was to offer her ordinary subjects a theatrical representation of herself as a 'true' ruler: the seeds of which had been sown by Mary herself in her speech during the Wyatt revolt, in which she is a mother who loves her subjects as if they were her children. Here was a female authority figure accepted as part of the divine order." ~Leanda de Lisle, TUDOR

"The blackening of Mary's name began in Elizabeth's reign and gathered force at the end of the 17th century, when James II compounded the view that Catholic monarchs were a disaster for England. But it was really the enduring popularity of John Foxe which shaped the view of her that has persisted for 450 years. Attempts to soften her image have been made, but their tendency to depict her as a sad little woman who would have been better off as the Tudor equivalent of a housewife is almost as distasteful as the legend of Bloody Mary. To dismiss her life as nothing more than a personal tragedy is both patronizing and mistaken. One of the main themes of Mary's existence is the triumph of determination over adversity. She lived in a violent, intolerant age, surrounded by the intrigues of a time when men and women gambled their lives for advancement at court. Deceit, like ambition, was endemic among the power-seekers of mid-Tudor England who passed, in procession, through her life. Pride, stubbornness and an instinct for survival saw her through tribulations that would have destroyed a lesser woman. Her bravery put her on the throne and kept her there, so that when she died she was able to bequeath to Elizabeth a precious legacy that is often overlooked: she had demonstrated that a woman could rule in her own right. The vilification of Mary has obscured the many areas of continuity between her rule and those of the other Tudors. Today, despite the fact that much more is known about her reign, she is still the most maligned and misunderstood of English monarchs. For Mary Tudor, the first queen of England, truth has not been the daughter of time." ~Linda Porter, THE MYTH OF BLOODY MARY

"Foxe's account would shape the popular narrative of Mary's reign for the next four hundred and fifty years. Generations of schoolchildren would grow up knowing the first Queen of England only as "Bloody Mary", a Catholic tyrant who sent nearly three hundred Protestants to their deaths, a point made satirically in W. C. Sellar and R. J. Yeatman's 1930s parody 1066 and All That. Mary's presence in a recent survey of the most evil men and women in history is testament to Foxe's enduring legacy. But there is, of course, a different Mary: a woman marked by suffering, devout in her faith and exceptional in her courage. From a childhood in which she was adored and feted and then violently rejected, a fighter was born. Her resolve almost cost her her life as her father, and then her brother, sought to subjugate her to their wills. Yet Mary maintained her faith and self-belief. Despite repeated attempts to deprive her of her life and right to the throne, the warrior princess turned victor and became the warrior princess turned victor and became the warrior queen. The boldness and scale of her achievements are often overlooked. The campaign that Mary led in the summer of 1553 would prove to be the only successful revolt against central government in sixteenth-century England. She, like her grandfather Henry VII and grandmother Isabella of Castile, had to flight for her throne. In the moment of crisis she proved decisive, courageous, and "Herculean" -and won the support of the English people as the legitimate Tudor heir. Mary was a conscientious, hardworking queen who was determined to be closely involved in government business and policy making. She would rise "at daybrea when, after saying her prayers and hearing mass in private," she would "transact business incessantly until after midnight." As rebels thereatend teh capital in January 1554 and she was urged to flee, Mary stood firm and successfully rallied Londoners to her defense. She was also a woman who lived by her conscience and was prepared to die for her faith. And she expected the same of others. Her religious defiance was matched by a personal infatuation with Phililp, her Spanish husband. Her love for him and dependence on her "true father", the Emperor Charles V, was unwavering. Her determination to honor her husband's will led England into an unpopular war with France and the loss of Calais. There was no fruit of the union, and so at her premature death there was no Catholic heir. Her own phantom pregnancies, together with epidemics and harvest failures across the country, left her undermined and unpopular. Her life, always one of tragic contrast, ended in personal tragedy as Philip abandoned her, never to return, even as his queen lay dying. In many ways Mary failed as a woman but triumphed as a queen. She ruled with the full measure of royal majesty and achieved much of what she set out to do. She won her rightful throne, married her Spanish prince, and restored the country to Roman Catholicism. The Spanish marriage was a match with the most powerful ruling house in Europe, and the highly favorable marriage treaty ultimately won the support of the English government. She had defeated the rebels and preserved the Tudor monarchy. Her Catholicism was not simply conservative but influenced by her humanist education and showed many signs of broad acceptance before she died. She was an intelligent, politically adept, and resolute monarch who proved to be very much her own woman. Thanks to Mary, John Aylmer, in exile in Switzerland, could confidently assert that "it is not in England so dangerous a matter to have a woman ruler, as men take it to be." By securing the throne following Edward's attempts to bar both his sisters, she ensured that the crown continued along the legal line of Tudor succession. Mary laid down other important precedents that would benefit her sister. Upon her accession as the first queen regnant of England, she redefined royal ritual and law, thereby establishing that a female ruler, married or unmarried, would enjoy identical power and authority to male monarchs. Mary was the Tudor trailblazer, a politiccal pioneer whose reign redefined the English monarchy." ~Anna Whitelock, MARY TUDOR: PRINCESS, BASTARD, QUEEN

Furthermore, as the country shifted from Catholicism to Protestantism, people began to find it easier to vilify her. During the Victorian age, England was at its height. People would say that the sun never set on the English Empire, and as a result, there was a growing sense of nationalism. Previously beloved figures like Queen Elizabeth I, Kings Edward III, Henry V, among others, were no longer kings and queens for people to admire and look upon but national symbols of pride, who were almost god-like. Edward III's victories against the French, Henry V's conquest of France, Elizabeth's Protestantism and victory against Spain with the Spanish Armada and other Catholic rivals, were extolled, and glorified, while Mary I's foreign ancestry was looked down upon. Ironically, all of these monarchs were also foreign in one way or another. You can say that Queen Elizabeth I wasn't because her parents were English, but what about her paternal ancestry, or her maternal one? No matter which way you look at it, she had foreign ancestry as much as any monarch. In fact, the Victorian era's own monarch, was of foreign descent as well! Victoria wasn't even an English name. She was named after her mother, Victoria of the Saxe-Coburg clan who was German and she married her cousin, who was also German. It was very common for royals to marry other royals, which meant that their offspring would be of foreign descent. In Mary's time this wouldn't be a reason to look down on her, on the contrary, she could point to her royal ancestors, be they foreign or not, with pride as a sign of how much royal blood flowed through her veins, making her eligible to be her father's heir. But as it has been pointed out before, times change and with it, so does our view of every historical figure.

#Queen Mary I of England #Tudor History #16th century #dailytudors

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come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years ago

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// fatherhood headcannons //

Characters: Kozume Kenma / Akaashi Keiji / Oikawa Tooru

Request: Heyyy merry xmas (if you celebrate it) can I request kenma fatherhood hcs I saw you other ones before and it was so cute (and maybe him having a daughter )

Warnings: some swearing

Word Count: 1.8K (~550 a piece)

Notes: bokuto with stretch marks. That’s all. That’s the note.

Kozume Kenma:

Oof how to put this nicely . . .

He was terrible. Absolute t r a s h during the pregnancy. And it wasn’t on purpose. He wasn’t just sitting there purposefully dismissing your aches and hormone-induced cries. Kenma just didn’t know that it was actually a big deal. He didn’t know that you were genuinely in serious amounts of discomfort.

You would say that your back was hurting and he’d be like, “yeah, mine too.” Which is v a l i d. He has videos to edit, so he spends a lot of time hunched over his desk, but you’re also carrying a child. H I S C H I L D so he could stand to be a little more sympathetic.

Morning sickness? He’s not about to be there to hold your hair back. He’s still fast asleep. Probably didn’t even know that you weren’t feeling well. Kenma isn’t a total jerk about it. He does care about you! I need to make that clear. He does care. He’ll ask you if you’re feeling better when you mention that you were sick earlier that day, ask if you need anything from the store, etc etc.

It’s really more or less the fact that he’s going to be a dad in less than nine months hasn’t fully set in?? He knows that you’re pregnant. He’s been there for the ultrasounds. He’s heard the heartbeat. He knows that there will be a baby, but it’s like his brain hasn’t processed that it’s his baby yet.

And it doesn’t fully hit him until you wake him up in the night, hitting his shoulder frantically, saying that something doesn’t feel right and in his sleepy haze he can only think to ask-

“Is the baby okay?”

bitch i don’t know that’s the problem

But he’s out of bed faster than you are, practically shoving shoes on your feet to get you out the door and into the car. pspsps there was no problem just l a b o r

Kenma didn’t cry when the baby arrived, honestly he didn’t even make any moves to hold his little girl when you offered her out to him. He was just so in awe? He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. She was so tiny and he was so scared that he might break her if he tried to hold her.

It takes him awhile to settle into the whole fatherhood thing, but once he gets it, he gets it. He becomes some kind of expert multitasker. He’s got the guys on discord through his headset, heating up formula, daughter strapped to his chest with one of those baby holders, ready to get back to gaming with his little girl right there.

She makes a few guest appearances during his streams, because she’ll start crying, wanting attention or to be fed, which brings him to sitting at his desk, bouncing his baby on his lap, continuing on with his stream like it’s the most normal thing in the world, watching as his chat blows up with people obsessing over how cute his daughter is.

Akaashi Keiji

I’m sure this a shock to everyone, but Akaashi is fucking clueless. He was an only child and his best friend is the youngest? He never really had to think about babies before.

He tries to research, but he gets so caught up in, ‘Is this a credible source? Can I trust what they’re telling me?’ that he learns absolutely nothing. Like he knows all of the actual science behind what’s happening, but he has no idea how to take care of a baby. What kind of diapers are the best? Should you breastfeed or would formula be the better option? How quickly should you be trying to teach them things like speech or walking?

Lucky for Akaashi, when his female co-workers, especially the ones who were mothers themselves, found out the exciting news that Akaashi was expecting a baby with you they were giving him every piece of advice under the sun. “You need to establish a sleep routine! It’ll take a while, but the baby will get it eventually!” “I know they say that you shouldn’t run to your baby every single time they cry, but that’s actually really harmful for their psyche in the long run.” “Make sure to play lots of classical music, especially early on. It helps with development!”

When it comes to you, he’s pretty hit or miss? He’s observant! Absolutely! But, he’s not really sure how to help you when you’re feeling insecure about your body or scared that you’re not going to be a good parent. He can tell you that you’re beautiful or that everything will be okay, but it never fails to make the situation worse because, “You’re my husband. You have to say that.”

The hormones. They do be throwing hands with him smh

Akaashi spent the entire last two months of your pregnancy baby proofing the entire house. If you wanted a glass of milk, it took you nearly 10 minutes. You know he means well, but he definitely went a little overboard.

He used to give your forehead a kiss every morning before he left for work, but now Keiji will lean in to kiss your forehead before squatting down to place a kiss on your stomach

He also helps you get ready in the morning. Your range of motion definitely isn’t what it used to be now that you have a baby bump, so he’s more than willing to help you tie your shoes or hook your bra if you need him to.

PANICKED BOY DURING DELIVERY

Everything that he was told just left his brain and he suddenly forgot everything that he had been told. He was holding onto your hand just as tightly as you were holding onto his, but he’s trying his best for your sake.

But the first moment that he sees his little baby all swaddled up in that blanket, you swear that you’ve never seen Akaashi’s eyes so wide and his face so blank. It’s like you could see the gears turning in his head, trying to process everything that just happened.

He’s absolutely silent. He doesn’t say a single word or make any noise when he finally has the opportunity to hold his son for the first time. He can do nothing but stare. It’s really a sight to see. The two best things in your life just staring at one another with absolute wonder.

Akaashi takes his baby’s development very seriously. He wants his son to be just as smart as the both of you some day, so he takes it upon himself to read to his son before every single nap.

Poor Keiji has read Green Eggs and Ham more times than he would like to admit.

Oikawa Tooru

Now listen. I know we all want to give him shit, but my god is he the only one who knows what the hell is going on

He has a sister who has been through this whole pregnancy thing at least once. He’s not helpless. He knows how to take care of a kid. Oikawa Tooru can rock a baby to sleep faster than you can say Seijoh. He’s just that good.

Tooru bought you the ugliest pair of sneakers when your feet started to swell and your other sneakers started to get uncomfy, but god damn they were the best pair of shoes that you ever put on your feet. Well, that he put on your feet. It’s kind of difficult to put shoes on when there’s a uh . . . big ol’ bump in the way.

He frequently talks to your stomach in Spanish and has already given the little bean a nickname to match the Spanish one he gave you. He also hums little songs while he rubs your stomach ugh lots of sweet vibes from oikawa

And it’s literally because his sister sent him P A R A G R A P H S just to tell him how to take care of you while you were pregnant. All of these little things that he never would have thought of like getting one of those grabber things so you didn’t have to bend over so much or keeping snacks and anything you could possibly be craving on a low shelf so you didn’t hurt yourself climbing for the bag of pretzels.

While Tooru loves you and would do anything for you, he absolutely refuses to rub your feet. Do not even bother asking. He will turn up his nose and look at you like you’ve lost your mind.

He’s always telling his teammates about you and how big you’ve gotten, what size his little baby is, what names he was thinking about. Ah it’s so cute. He invites some of them over to help him put together the nursery, asking them if they prefer the elephants or the bears? Should they choose yellow or maybe a nice grey?

When it came to the actual delivery of the baby, he was so calm??? Like?? Unnervingly calm? He just held your hand, running his other hand over your head, pushing your hair back, reminding you to breathe just like he had practiced with you, telling you that you’re doing so well, that it will all be over and worth it soon.

And it really was. Seeing his face light up with the most adoring smile that you had ever seen as he took his little one into his arms was one of the most beautiful sights you had ever seen. He was absolutely in love and all it took was one little look and he was already cooing and making silly faces.

But those goofy faces and cute voices were just to mask the tears that had welled in his eyes at finally being able to hold the most beautiful thing on the planet. He never thought he’d get to be a dad, settling down was something that had always seemed so distant and strange to him until he met you. And yet, here he was. A full-fledged dad, on the verge of sobbing as he held onto his first-born as if his entire universe would crumble if he looked away for even a second.

Please don’t even get me started on when his kiddo wrapped their hand around his finger. SOBBED. He’s gone. Absolutely bawling his eyes out.

Ugh i could go on forever about dad!oikawa he’d just be so 10/10

{taglist: @moncymonce @nicka-nell @lovinnoya @celosiiaa @ush7jima @deephasoceanmagic}

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #kenma #oikawa #akaashi #kenma kozume #kenma x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #x reader

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superman86to99 · 4 years ago

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Superman #84 (December 1993)

Superman takes a short Paris vacation! Like, one day short. What's the worst that could happen?

Oh, man.

So, for the past few issues, we've been hearing about children being abducted in Metropolis. Now we see that they're being kept inside a giant toy house by some creepy bald man in Quasimodo clothes who seems to be obsessed with toys -- a "Man of Toys," if you will. Side note: no wonder the children haven't been found... all the articles about them are just gibberish! (See clip below.)

The kidnapper thinks that these kids' parents don't deserve them, and that they're much better off here, in an underground hideout with a man who threatens to starve them if they don't play with him. (And I do mean literally play, with action figures and stuff.) Meanwhile, as these children cry for help, Superman is having the time of his life. While helping move a stranded ship with some huge-ass chains, Superman spots a sunken galleon with a treasure chest inside and fantasizes about keeping the booty...

...before turning it over to the authorities anyway, the big boy scout. Then, he wakes up Lois at 6 AM and tells her they should go to Paris right now, which usually means your significant other is having a mental breakdown, but in this case they can actually do it. And so, after deciding that he deserves to use his powers for fun every once in a while, Superman and Lois drop everything and fly to France with super-speed for the rest of the day/issue.

Anyway: back to the child abduction! Cat Grant and her son Adam attend a Halloween party at Adam's school, but there's a disturbed weirdo in a hideous costume lurking among the crowd. Yes, I'm talking about Jimmy Olsen in his Turtle Boy suit.

Shortly after that, a guy in a dinosaur costume (see, all the creeps are dressed as reptiles) lures Adam out of the party with the promise of "superb video games." What child could resist that? Of course, that turns out to be the kidnapper and Adam ends up in his hideout along with the rest of the missing children and, worst of all, not a single "Lextendo" console.

The kidnapper gets angry at Adam when he refers to the toys at the hideout as "old-fashioned junk" (he was REALLY looking forward to those video games), and even angrier when Adam tries to free the other kids. Adam is brave and puts up a good fight, but...

And those were Adam Morgan's final words. "Uh-oh."

Next, we have a pretty harrowing scene of Detective Turpin letting Cat know Adam’s body was found, and Jimmy and Perry White taking her to the morgue to identify the body (most people probably wouldn't bring their former boss to something like that, but Perry sadly knows more than most about losing a kid). As for Lois and Clark, they were gone so long that the Daily Planet had time to print a headline about the murders. The issue ends when the lovebirds walk into the office smiling like two people who just spent the night fooling around in Paris... only to feel like jackasses when they find out what happened.

To be continued!

Character-Watch:

And that's it for little Adam Morgan who, unlike the also tragically diseased Jerry White, didn't even get any post-death appearances. Adam went from a little kid scared of Superman, to a huge brat, to a character who was approaching likeability as of last week. That's why I hate it when DC kills off young characters like Adam or Liam Harper: in long-form storytelling, children represent potential. Look at how much Wally West or Dick Grayson evolved over the years compared to their mentors! Sure, there's a huge probability that Adam would have ended up disappearing from comics for 25 years anyway, but who knows, maybe we'd now know him as Teen Gangbuster or something. GangbusTEEN.

This issue also represents a turning point for the kidnapper, who is never named or seen clearly in the story itself but I don't think I'm shocking anyone by spoiling the fact that he's Toyman (it's in the cover, for one thing). In his last two appearances before this storyline, Toyman helped Superman save some kids from Sleez and looked genuinely sad to learn about Superman's death, so this is a pretty dramatic change for the character. We'll find out why he went from big softy to child killer in Superman #85 (but don't get your hopes up).

Plotline-Watch:

The most disturbing part of the issue, all things considered, is still the part where Toyman climbs into a giant crib and hugs a huge stuffed bunny. Look at serial killer Tommy Pickles here:

Don Sparrow says: “Even with the upgrade, Toyman is still just a man in a suit, a common complaint about Superman’s rogues gallery.” Funny you should say that, because I JUST shared an old Wizard interview in our Twitter in which Dan Jurgens talks about how Doomsday came out of his frustration with the fact that most Superman villains are dudes in suits (plus other interesting tidbits from the era, like how it was actually Roger Stern’s idea to bring back Hank Henshaw, so check out that link!).

Don again: “The entire Superman storyline of this issue feels like filler. Diving for buried treasure and soaring off to Paris -- it all feels like wasted time next to the Adam storyline.” I have a theory that the entire ship sequence is there as an excuse to put Superman in those big chains and make that Spawn joke (which I didn’t get until now, since I’ve always read this issue in Spanish).

Superman says that pulling that big ship was "a little easier than expected" -- that's either another hint that there's something going on with Superman's powers since he came back, or a subtle dig at the state of American ship manufacturing.

Another adorable "window tap" scene for the books, and this is the sexiest one so far. Is it me or has Jurgens started copying more than just Teri Hatcher's hairdo from Lois & Clark? (For anyone who thinks Lois has gotten implants, I refer you to this clip.)

While in Paris, Lois asks Clark if he's ever wondered what would happen if his rocket had landed in other countries. Don: “Clark’s conversation with Lois sounds like a bunch of concepts for Elseworlds stories. We eventually would see a Russian Superman, and a British Superman, but not yet the French Superman. (Hire us, DC!)” Yep, got my French Superman pitch ready, Jim Lee. Or just let us do Russian Superman again, since Red Son wasn’t even the first time you published that idea.

Don once more: “Another thing that makes no sense about the ‘new’ Toyman is his resentment of technological toys—when in previous appearances he himself had deadly high-tech toys to vex Superman over the years.” I especially resent his hatred of video game consoles. Incidentally, I wonder what types of games are available for Adam’s beloved Lextendo. Star Lex 64? Mega Man Lex? Sonic the Hedgehog 3 & Knuckles & Lex?

No one is more upset at Lois and Clark for going AWOL than Whit. NO ONE. He's so furious that his usually grey mustache turned black.

Patreon-Watch:

As always, shout out to our patrons, Aaron, Murray Qualie, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, Samuel Doran, Bheki Latha, Mark Syp, Ryan Bush and Raphael Fischer! Last month’s exclusive Patreon article was about the recently unearthed sequel to Superman 64 for the PlayStation, featuring Metallo, Parasite, and Lois looking even hotter than in this issue:

Hot damn. Find out more at https://www.patreon.com/superman86to99!

And believe it or not, Don Sparrow has even more to say about this issue. Read his section after the jump:

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

I should start off my section with a big caveat: I flat out hate this issue. There were several weird decisions made in the post-Death-and-Return era (most of them along the same lines of making the Superman titles more grim-and-gritty), and this story was one of the worst of them. My theory is that, despite the praise and record-breaking sales of the Death and Return storyline, the Superman creative team felt pressure to have more extreme storylines, perhaps in response to the wildly successful Image books coming out at the time. Between this story, and the upcoming “Spilled Blood” storyline, the Super books take a hard—but temporary--turn into more violent and upsetting storytelling—even though these stories are by the same writers as the previous few years. While death has always been a part of comics, and Superman comics was no exception, there is a jarring glibness and unfeeling toward the way violence is handled in these pages that is quite different from the stories that preceded it. It’s made all the more jarring by the fact that well-established personalities suddenly veer wildly out of character, Toyman chief among them.

We start with the cover, and while it is technically well-drawn (by the familiar team of Jurgens and Breeding) it’s also a very upsetting visual. I think they should have gone with the pieta type pose with Adam and Superman, OR the scary badass bowie-knife Toyman (who apparently has a Cheshire cat smile now) but not both. But the cover is a good hint at the tonal dissonance of the comic within.

We open with a splash of the now-extreme 90s looking Toyman, with his serial killer shaved head and spooky cloak, ignoring the pleas of hungry kids he has locked up in a tiny jail cell for days at a time (if that sentence doesn’t ring alarm bells for how wrong this is for a Superman story, I don’t know what will). For much of the issue Toyman’s eyes are obscured by glare on his lenses, further de-humanizing a character who was once one of Superman’s more empathetic bad guys.

We cut to Superman tugboating a huge tanker with giant chains and it’s a cool visual (one repeated in the Batman V Superman film). It feels especially out of place to focus on, given how upsetting this issue is otherwise, but throughout the whole comic, Lois is drawn smoking hot, especially on the two page spread on pages 9-10.

The scenes depicting the actual murder, while still wildly out of place in a Superman comic, are well done, and give a real sense of darkness and menace, which I suppose is the intent. Perhaps my least favourite visual is the Big Bird stuffie, silently bearing witness to what’s about to occur.

The edges of the panels on get more slashy and off-kilter (to me, looking very much like the layouts more typically seen in Image comics of the day) and I suppose I appreciate the restraint of how little Dan Jurgens shows of the death of a child, showing only a bloody slash on a black background. This is still a pretty baroque image for a Superman comic, but certainly less violent than it could be, given what is happening.

Cat Grant’s silent horror is well staged, and powerful in its way. Lastly, Clark Kent bending in sorrow and regret is a powerful image.

While this issue is handled marginally better, and more maturely than other comics on the shelf at this time, I still believe it is one of the biggest mistakes of the era. Giving a long-established character an unceremonious death for shock value is gross on its own, but making it a child definitely crosses a line for me. Making it worse is that, while the Toyman is a criminal and a killer, he has shown in past issues (a similar kidnapping storyline involving Sleez) that he genuinely cares for the well-being of children. So for a long-time reader, this also felt like a betrayal of a long-established, fully developed character. Adding to the ugliness of this is that Adam dies heroically, trying to free the children who have been caged, unfed, for days, but even in that regard, he fails. The headline at the end of the issue confirms all the children are dead. Adam’s death did not buy the other kids enough time to get away. It was all for nothing. Had Adam died, but the other children lived, maybe this issue wouldn’t leave quite as bad a taste. [Max: It’s weird because it’s all told in a way where it’s told in a way where it would make sense, narratively and within the story universe, that the other kids survived, but then it’s almost casually revealed that nope, they died too. A scene of one of the kids relaying Adam’s heroism to Cat in a future issue would have gone a long way.]

Superman doesn’t come off well in these pages, either. It’s honestly the type of story they should just stay away from, because the more you think about all the calamity that is going on around the clock, the less defensible the whole Clark Kent persona becomes. Superman carving out time to romance his fiancée directly led to the preventable deaths of innocent children—how do you come back from that?

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

I’m always looking for hints that perhaps Jimmy or Perry know Superman’s secret identity deep down, and Jimmy’s anger at Lois and Clark on their return to the Daily Planet offices would seem to give that theory some credence, as he’s as angry at them as if he knew Clark really were Superman. Either that, or he’s ticked that it fell to him, and none of them to escort Cat into the morgue. [Max: Has this issue finally converted you to the “Jimmy is terrible” side now, Don?]

I don’t think I’m the only one who disliked the new Toyman—SPOILERS BE HERE: years later, in Action Comics #865, Geoff Johns retconned this whole story, reverting Schott into the criminal who over-relates to kids, rather than the child-killer of this story. Apparently the infantile Schott, who speaks to “Mother” a la Norman Bates, is a robot so lifelike it fools even Superman, and the “Mother” he’s constantly replying to was the real Winslow Schott trying to recall the malfunctioning robot. [Max: That’s one Geoff Johns retcon I really didn’t mind, even if it felt kind of derivative of his similar “all the Brainiacs are robots made by the real Brainiac” reveal.]

#superman #dan jurgens #josef rubinstein #toyman #cat grant #adam morgan #dan turpin #whit #gangbusteen #super luthor fighter ii turbo championship edition

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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years ago

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Pero Tovar x mixed race OFC, Isla Han

Thank you @heatherbel for the beta!

Welcome to my next crazy adventure, a Romancing the Stone/Kate and Leopold mash-up. Big love to the really excellent @fleetwoodmactshirts for the original idea and planting the seed for the romanting the stone twist.

There might be quite a lot of British humour in this? Just know that Manuel is a character from the cult classic Fawlty Towers.

Chapter One

Present Day

ISLA: C’mon Lau. Put me out of my misery. Just tell me he won’t be at my office this year.

LAURA: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

ISLA: Don’t pick now to start being modest. At least get someone actually Spanish this time. Last year’s effort was way more Manuel than Antonio Banderas. Just saying.

LAURA: And yet you insist that you weren’t into that…?

ISLA: He was dedicated, I’ll give you that much. My editor wasn’t impressed when he started to strip in full view of the conference room, though.

LAURA: He was worth the money, all right. Should’ve got someone to record it for Youtube.

I snorted and tossed my phone on the sofa. My birthday was tomorrow. Which meant, just like every year since I’d started my bestselling series of novels, I’d get a visit from a guy all trussed up like my swarthy Spanish mercenary, Alejandro.

It had been five years and my friends - Laura was the ringleader - never failed to embarrass me. All the guys they hired were complete bollocks. Dressed in cheap party-shop chainmail and leathers.

Some of them tried a Spanish accent (always terrible).

Others stripped (even worse).

Last year, poor Manuel had done both, exceeding my expectations, and tripped over the chainmail around his legs on his way out, yelping loudly as he fell face first into a waste paper basket.

At least everyone else had been entertained.

I closed my eyes and leaned back on the sofa. It hadn’t escaped my notice that I’d managed to write the man of my dreams into books that had sold well all over the world, and yet I couldn’t find an actual man who held my interest much longer than the time it took for them to say “what you drinking tonight, love?”

It was probably just as well. I’d rather live in my delicious fictional world of Alejandro and his warrior Princess bride as they traversed the globe, saving others in need and having sex on any surface that stayed still for longer than five minutes.

I heard footsteps on the stairs and opened my eyes. My gaze caught on the poster of the cover of my first novel, The Spaniard. I’d had the image blown up to A1 and framed after it had sold a million copies and the artist’s rendition of Alejandro had stolen my breath. He looked the perfect combination of menacing and beautiful, his full lower lip creased in the centre, like the angel who made him had pressed a thumb there to mark a job well done. His inky hair curled, tousled, over his forehead and his chestnut eyes, one marked with a long, wicked scar, blazed out from the page. Little wonder people had been compelled by him and his broad-shouldered form in the layers of chainmail and leathers.

The footsteps came closer and my brother Paul poked his head around the door. “I’m off out. Want anything from Tesco’s?”

“No, thanks.” I did in fact, want some milk, but when Paul said he was going out he could be gone for ten minutes or five hours. God knew what he did when he went on these little sojourns.

“Okay, text me if you change your mind. See you later.”

“See you.”

I listened to him clatter back down the stairs of our shared townhouse and a minute later, the front door slammed shut.

My parents would be appalled if they knew I essentially let Paul sponge off me. But I was lucky; I could afford it. And Paul had been my rock in our early years, when our Dad had several nervous breakdowns and was sectioned. I’d have been lost without him.

Besides, I didn’t like rattling around this big house by myself. There was only so much TV I could watch, and the bright lights of London held limited appeal after a few years.

LAURA: So... will you record the next guy? I mean, not that I’ve hired anyone.

LAURA: Yet.

LAURA: Please?

I laughed, decided not to reply, and instead got up off the sofa and climbed the stairs to my office to continue work on my edits.

*****

London, 1269

“I should have known bringing her here was a mistake,” William Garin groused as he and a fellow mercenary, Pero Tovar, crouched outside their somewhat ramshackle lodgings, waiting for a man to exit.

Pero snorted. “Bringing a woman into any situation is playing with fire, no? Someone always gets burned.”

William sighed, shifting position behind the large hay bales. “Not my sister. I brought her here to protect her from the kind of gobshites we have in Ireland. Not to have her catch the eye of another.”

Pero drew out a strip of dried meat from his belt pouch, offered it to William. The Irishman shook his head.

“Suit yourself, amigo.”

“He’ll be coming out any minute, and you’re eating?”

Pero scoffed. “I can eat and fight at the same time, cabrón.” He finished the dried meat, and took out another strip.

William shook his head, but he was smiling. “Do all Spaniards eat this much?”

“They do when their Irish comrades starve them, and make them sit for hours behind stinking bales of hay to protect their virgin sister, si?”

William clapped him over the head. “I - look alive, Tovar.”

The door to the small, two-storey thatched house opened. Catriona, William’s sister, a comely redhead, peeked outside, then ducked back in.

A tall man, pale-skinned, thick dark hair with a closely trimmed beard, exited, then briefly doubled back to kiss a smiling Catriona.

“Bastard,” William gritted out.

“Patience, amigo,” Pero cautioned. “We see where he goes, and then we plan.” He shoved William’s head down behind the hay bale, letting him up when it was safe. “And now we follow.”

“Eejit.” But William followed Pero’s steady lead.

They tracked the man through the dirty London streets, narrowly avoiding a fishwife emptying a chamber pot out of a high window. Two girls half Pero’s height wheeled a cart of freshly baked pies down the narrow alley opposite, the scents mingling with the more unpleasant stink of everyday life.

The stranger turned, and Pero yanked William behind a rickety butcher’s cart, crouching and ignoring the stocky man’s “oi!”

“He’s stopped looking,” William confirmed, and they tracked him down nearer the big river that snaked through the dogpile of the city.

Pero’s attention was briefly snagged by an enterprising young pickpocket, currently targeting a well to do merchant admiring trinkets with what was likely his mistress. The boy caught his eye, hesitated. Pero winked. Who was he to cut the boy off in his prime?

The stranger disappeared into the mouth of what looked to be an abandoned hovel, and William and Pero darted after him on feet made silent by years of training.

The hovel was dark inside, dank. A light blinked on in the gloom; like no light Pero had ever seen the like of.

“What is this witchcraft?” He muttered.

“Don’t dally, man!” William tugged Pero after him, rushing to grab their quarry.

The Irishman tripped, caught the surprised stranger by the collar - and then everything went black.

******

“Tovar! Tovar!”

Pero opened his eyes, groggy. He lay on a smooth, flat surface. Not unlike the floors of the fine throne rooms of kings he’d served during his years as a sellsword. He smoothed a hand over the unblemished ground, blinked.

“Snap out of it, man!” William grabbed him, shaking roughly. “Follow the bastard!”

A terrible banging, drums perhaps, assaulted Pero’s ears from somewhere outside their strange, smooth grey prison. A pile of rubble was stacked in one corner. Crude art littered the walls; also the same luxurious smoothness there.

“William - where are we, amigo?”

But the Irishman was preoccupied. “Do you not see he’s getting away?”

Pero climbed to his feet, his head aching. Mierda, it was so bright here.

William was already giving chase, so Pero followed his friend as best he could with his head spinning from wherever they’d followed the stranger to - the stranger woo-ing Catriona. Sweet Catriona, who he’d seen grow from a child.

William shoved a rickety door open, and all at once a pillar of light hit them. William stumbled, falling back on to Tovar, who hit the ground with a grunt.

“Ay, cabrón!”

“What in Heaven’s name-?”

They gaped through the doorway. A huge metal pole grew from the earth, a bright light at its apex, streaming down on the ground. Some feet away sat what looked to be a small fort on wheels. But wheels unlike any Pero had ever seen before. The unholy, piercingly bright light shone into the wheeled fort, illuminating a chair inside.

Used for torture, perhaps.

“Where are we, amigo?” he whispered again, to William.

“We’ll make enquiries later. For now, the bastard’s getting away. Come on!”

“Of course, amigo, where you go, I follow,” Pero muttered.

But what other choice did he have?

They ran out of the door, towards the wheeled fort of torture, and into the unknown.

Tagging the Pedro pals: @thirstworldproblemss @jaime1110 @chews-erotically @songsformonkeys @alwaysbethewest @beccaplaying @nelba @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @gamingaquarius @buckstaposition @pedropascallion @soldade @agirllovespasta @pajamasecrets @thegreenkid @cryptkeepersoul @kindablackenedsuperhero @littlemissthistle @alienprincesspoop @keeper0fthestars @f0rever15elf @mrsparknuts @abuttoncalledsmalls @mrschiltoncat @thempiregroovy @dornish-queen @mourningbirds1 @a-seeker-of-imagination @knittingqueen13 @ mstgsmy @roxypeanut @poenariuniverse

#pero tovar x ofc #pero tovar fic #pedro pascal fic #the great wall fic

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ofparadice · 3 years ago

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Everyone suspects JACKSON BARRETT of at least one of the cardinal sins, but in Nevada, the worst sins are bound by blood and HE has yet to roll the dice. HIS fixations on the neon lights of Nevada started TWELVE YEARS ago as a HEIST SPECIALIST. Under the desert sun, they claim the act of PIT BOSS AT THE LOTUS HOTEL & CASINO. They’re often mistaken for SCOTT SPEEDMAN before those crimson colored glasses slide down their nose. JACKSON better get busy living, or they’ll get busy dying by the ripe age of FORTY-TWO. There are no second acts in a marked life, and it’s measured out by the melody of SPACE GHOST COAST TO COAST BY GLASS ANIMALS.

CHARACTER FULL NAME: Jackson Emiliani Barrett

CHARACTER AGE AND DATE OF BIRTH: Forty-Two & July 29th, 1979

CHARACTER GENDER AND PRONOUNS: Cis Man & He/Him

FACE CLAIM: Scott Speedman

HOMETOWN: Miami, Florida

DO THEY ASSOCIATE WITH ANY CRIME ORGANZATION? IF YES, PLEASE PROVIDE THE NAME: Unaffiliated

CRIME ROLE: Heist Specialist

DAYJOB/OCCUPATION: Pit boss at Lotus Hotel & Casino

TRIGGER WARNING: drugs, religious imagery, gambling addiction

CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY

Jackson was born on the floor of a dirty liquor store bathroom and that set the tone for the rest of his life. His parents, two teenagers addicted to drugs, knew that they had no business raising a child. So the two kids knew they couldn’t tell either of their parents or authorities and dropped him off near the trash outside a Catholic Church with a note and a gold cross necklace his father had lifted from a jewelry store, with instructions for his name, knowing they would keep him safe..

The nuns saw the little boy discarded among the trash and took him in, penning him with the middle name Emiliani, after the patron saint of orphans and abandoned children, St. Jerome Emiliani. Although the nuns that became his mother figures in his youth preached about gratefulness and piousness, Jackson exhibited neither of those traits. His parents left him in the garbage hours after he was born and he was taken in by nuns who would punish him anytime he was subordinate or ungodly, warranting a smack of the ruler against his knuckles or a slap across his face. For Jackson, who was already a defiant child, would get punished on a regular basis. As he grew up, the only thing the Sister of Mercy gave him were a roof over his head, the ability to speak perfect Spanish, marks and scars over his body and the images of him burning in the afterlife. Once he realized that there was no sense of love or want in his life, his childhood was a lot easier to cope with.

Unknown to Jackson, he was a carbon copy of his own father: a man who had a propensity for lying, cheating and stealing. First it was little things like gum, lighters and candy from the local convenient store and pens from the dreaded nuns. Which led to things that were worth more: wallets filled with more cash than he had seen in his life and jewelry that could pay for an apartment. It all started at eleven and when he realized how good he was, he would grift for things the nuns wouldn’t allow him to have. He found a creaky floorboard in his room and pulled it up, offering him a hiding place that would be looked over during his weekly bed checks.

On his eighteenth birthday, the church offered to continue shelter him, if he changed his behavior from the ungodly heathen they called him to a god-fearing devout Catholic, but if not, he knew where the door was. He chose the latter and he was on his own. Miami didn't hold a special place in his heart, so he left, moving from city to city and never putting down roots. He went through his twenties, working odd jobs here and there, usually minimum wage. Eventually he turned to his grifting ways, and not only did he survived, he thrived. For once in his life, he had the things he never had: money, nice cars, luxury housing and items he would have never dreamed of owning.

Jackson went through his entire life alone. He had caretakers, friends, but someone he truly knew better than an acquaintance? It had never happened to him, until he got curious. Were his parents out there or had they die, and did he have siblings? All questions he found out with a little bit of digging when he was thirty. His mother had died two years earlier from a heroin overdose and his father was in Vegas, knee deep in gambling debt and addiction issues. None of the information he found out about his parents were shocking, except the fact they had another child five years after him. He found his younger brother, and was shocked when he realized that he had also been given up by their parents, but adopted by a rich family. He realized that his brother, Jude, had lived a great life and it caused him to spiral. He wondered why his parents gave his brother a more advantageous start to life while Jackson suffered through pain and loneliness. He tried not blaming his brother, telling himself that he didn't have to suffer like Jackson did, but it was hard for him to cope. Jackson ended up moving to Vegas, but never followed through with meeting his father.

He was never quick to trust, and it had gotten worse after he found the truth about his family, but a woman came into his life that changed everything. Her name was Leyla and what turned out to be a simple flirtation at the bar turned into something more significant with the woman nine years younger than him. He couldn’t explain his attraction to her. Yes, she was gorgeous, but there was something more that kept his attention. She made such a significant impact in his life that he thought he would go legitimate for her, and then she became pregnant within six months of dating.

Jackson never wanted to be a father, avoiding it at all costs as to not ruin a child the way his own parents did. The second she told him though, his world changed. He decided to try and be the best father he could be. Thoughts of him going straight were put aside as he provided the best for his girlfriend and child. When Leyla found out how he provided for his family, she wanted nothing to do with it. He promised her he was done, but he was a creature of habit and went back to his thieving ways. Eventually she caught him again, and again until she finally had enough and she cut him off, not wanting their daughter’s life to be involved in a life of crime and it effectively ruined their relationship. He thought it was better at first. Leyla would be a better parent for their child without him involved, but he felt an emptiness he had never experienced before and realized that he wanted to be involved in their daughter’s life. He had missed the birth of their child, but begged Leyla to be involved in their lives, and after many times hearing the word no, Leyla finally allowed him supervised visits. He hasn’t stopped stealing or grifting, still wanting to provide his family with the best he could, but he did his best to keep it away from them.

Jackson knows about the darkness that looms over Vegas: the workings of the gangs and mobsters that control the city behind the scene. He knows that he's more coveted as a free agent, a contract thief who is the best at what he does. No longer was he stealing and grifting from low level marks as he made his way up in the world focusing on big businesses, the millionaires and billionaires that flock to Vegas.

#muse: jackson #nevernevada.intro #jackson: intro #intro

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