#and could be an effective king if allowed to act on his initiatives
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fortune-maiden · 1 year ago
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This drama is all court politics and very few character moments
So the character moments we do get are absolutely precious and Bo Pi may be a schemer but seeing him dote on Fuchai like a father is just too cute 😭
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nightwngz · 10 months ago
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Older bat! Damian with super or wonder reader who's like sheltered and oblivious to the real world and they go on a mission or smith together and the whole times she's just doing whatever he says because that's what she's used to and he's just like damnn and finds that really attractive
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— 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 ! ☆
older!damian wayne x fem!reader
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀… drabble smut. porn with a plot. dirty talk. fingering. Damian uses Arabic nicknames.
𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.
𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.
𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲… I don't know how I feel about myself today, but I decided to write this for you anyway. I hope you like it. <3
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It was one of the first times you, a young girl exiled from the real world and born on an island paradise inhabited only by women, had contact with what was considered 'the real world.' You were not yet accustomed to many things, especially the existence of men, or perhaps men like Damian Wayne.
On Themyscira, you were used to following orders. When the Queen or your trainer told you to "do this," you knew exactly what to do. But when you joined the Justice League and met Batman, you initially believed you were supposed to act the same way. You soon realized that maybe you should have listened when Jon told you to ignore him completely.
At that moment, Damian Wayne, now known as Batman, was the last person you wanted to be trapped with in a situation like this. The two of you were locked in a reinforced room with no way out, where neither your strength nor your wits could help you get out. So you found yourself trapped with the one man who liked to bark orders like he was the king of Gotham.
— You really don't know what to do? — He asked, annoying you again. — Before, Wonder Women were effective.
However, you tried to heed Jon's advice; thus, you responded to him without intending to participate in his game.
— Yes, and in my land, men didn't even exist. So I'm just getting used to working with the inefficiency of one.
Damian slowly approached the box you were sitting in with an annoying grin on his face.
— In fact, I am a detective. Of course I know how to get out of here.
Your confused expression made him smile even harder at your confusion. You weren't sure if it was fair to feel like a complete idiot, but that was exactly how you felt at that moment. Besides, you didn't like him at all.
— And you never thought to open the door, or are you just trying to annoy me by making me live with you?
— Actually... — He replied, moving even closer to you. — I'm testing you. Go and open the door as best you can — He finally ordered.
And as if it were a sacred word, you stood up, determined to open the door to the room at any cost. At first, you tried to break it down with blows, but your strength wasn't enough. It was probably made of some incredibly strong material, possibly of alien origin.
— Try pulling the doorknob with your lasso — he suggested, and once again, you listened.
Damian couldn't help but find the way you obeyed like a trained dog incredibly attractive. Deep down, he felt that he had you at his mercy and that no matter what he asked you to do, you would listen.
Totally exhausted from the effort, you knelt on the ground, but you didn't give up. Feeling sorry for you, he reached over to stroke your hair, trying to calm you down.
— Pretty obedient little thing. — He flattered, lifting your chin so you could look him in the eye. — You don't know how to say no, do you?
A wave of intense heat enveloped you. Perhaps it was the first time you had ever found yourself in an intimate situation with someone, as you had always believed that your body was trained solely for an impending war. Yet, when Damian was around, that was the one purpose of your training you occasionally forgot.
— If I asked you to take off your underwear, would you be so obedient, habibati?
Your cheeks reddened immediately. You knew you should avoid this kind of situation, but having been trained on the island, you understood that you had to follow the orders of a superior. Batman was more experienced than you, making him your superior, and you felt obligated to obey him.
Immediately your panties fell down under the metal skirt of your suit, exposing your pussy to the man in the room.
From what you knew about men, you noticed they often looked for specific qualities in women. However, Damian had never shown any boldness towards you. As time passed, the 'sexual tension' that Jon had mentioned began to feel more like an annoyance.
When he saw that you were listening to him, he smiled as usual. But his smile was not one of despair; it was one of desire.
He knelt down to be at the same height as you. Gently, he slid a finger down your soaked pussy while keeping his eyes on yours, watching for any reaction on your face.
You understood what he was doing and how he was touching every part of the anatomy between your legs with precision. What you didn't understand was how he was so skilled at it.
You couldn't hold back your moans as you felt him gently pinch your now throbbing clit. His touch drove you crazy as you felt waves of pleasure crash against you.
— Damn, what a good girl. Sorry to tell you, Habibati... I have a weakness for obedient women.
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thaifanfests · 1 month ago
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🏳️‍🌈Marriage Equality Act & Updates🏳️‍🌈
What we now know as the Marriage Equality Act did not begin as such. Efforts towards passing same-sex marriage in Thailand began with an attempt of legal recognition of civil partnerships in 2012-2014 when the Thai government held its first hearings on a potential civil partnership bill. Despite the support towards legalizing same sex marriage, the Civil Partnership Act, at the time, did not grant same-sex couples the same rights as their counterparts (i.e.: same-sex couples were not entitled to raise children, and the minimum age for those wishing to register a same-sex partnership would be 20 whereas heterosexual couples could register at 17.) In other words, there was an attempt at legal recognition of same-sex couples, but the bill still had the veil of discrimination and other flaws. Other factors, such as political unrest, also stalled the bill. (Prachatai)
Other significant attempts were made as well, especially with mass public support. Petitions that called for the legalization of same-sex marriage led to efforts in 2018, when the Justice Minister of Thailand began drafting a Civil Partnership Bill (Bangkok Post). Despite the support in public hearings and approval from the government, it did not pass in time. However, it’s still important to note that while there was support and tremendous push to pass the Civil Partnership Bill, many felt that recognizing same-sex couples as “legal, civil partnerships” “falls short of marriage” and therefore, could not truly be equal to heterosexual marriages (Bangkok Post).
This brings us to the Move Forward Party, which introduced the Marriage Equality Act in June 2020. This bill is significantly different from the previously mentioned bills, as it sought to amend the Civil and Commercial Code to include gender neutral language (ThaiPBSWorld). Doing so would allow any Thai citizen of any gender to seek marriage. After rewriting, redrafting, governments dissolving, and more scrutiny over a persistent exclusion of certain rights, the Thai government approved several drafts of same-sex marriage law, all of which passed with overwhelming support. The House of Representatives then approved a unified draft in March 2024, and then passed the Senate in April (Associated Press/Time). Finally, after receiving the royal endorsement from the Thai King on September 24th, 2024 and publishing the Royal Gazette, the Marriage Equality Act is slated to take effect on January 22nd, 2025. (BBC News)
Well, it was.
There’s a tiny delay. A discrepancy in the 120 day period has caused the initial January 22nd date to be pushed back to January 23rd. (Bangkok Pride)
The Marriage Equality Act is also missing an important signature. As reported by Bangkok Pride: “Currently, the process awaits the signature of Mr. Anutin Charnvirakul, Thailand's Deputy Prime Minister and Minister of the Interior, to formally activate the law. However, as of now, Mr. Anutin has not signed the order, which may lead to continued confusion among government agencies hesitant to act without a clear and official enforcement date” (Bangkok Pride). His delay in signing the law is causing some confusion, especially for the public and those who must prepare themselves to provide registration services. 
Beyond legal frameworks, there are other challenges that the Love Foundation anticipates, such as addressing misunderstandings, lack of local government readiness as an influx of legal changes and commitments take place, and opposition from those who dissent. We urge you to take a look at their breakdown of some of these issues and their potential solutions. (LoveFoundation)
Still, even with the delay, Bangkok Pride and several other LBGTQIA+ organizations move forward with plans to celebrate. Mass wedding ceremonies are anticipated to take place across Thailand on the 23rd. Commitments in all forms are slated to continue. While we’ll be a day or two early with our festivities, we hope this was an informative rundown on the Marriage Equality Act and what to look forward to!
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🏳️‍🌈 What's ThaiTheKnot2025? 🏳️‍🌈 Guidelines 🏳️‍🌈 Prompts 🏳️‍🌈 Discord & Carrd 🏳️‍🌈
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roanniom · 2 years ago
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I adored smartest! Scratched an itch I didn’t know I had for Steve. Can’t stop thinking of him seeing someone trying to flirt with his tutor and getting possessive and dragging her down the nearest dark alley to prove no one could make her dumb like he can.
Smartest - Part 2
King!Steve Harrington x tutor!fem!reader
Read Part 1
Warning: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, mutual masturbation, semi public sex / PIV sex / unprotected sex, teasing, power dynamics, King!Steve is a dick and is his own warning (but goes through angst here???)
Steve isn’t really sure what he assumed would happen after he’d been hooking up with his tutor for a while. There had been absolutely no forethought to the initial act, and the fact that you had been into him enough to let him keep fucking you during each session - well Steve Harrington isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, of course.
But he certainly hadn’t anticipated how the attention would affect how you carry yourself. In the halls. In class. In the stands during pep rallies. Walking through the diner or at the movies. Whenever Steve sees you out and about in Hawkins now, he can’t help but blink and do a double take.
You stand up straighter. You smile brighter. You make eye contact with the people around you. Your clothes are a little more relaxed, opting for flouncier skirts and fun tops rather than cardigans and your usual buttoned up, structured dresses.
To Steve, of course, the change seems motivated by him. And, to be fair, he was sort of the catalyst. He couldn’t possibly know that really you’ve started to come into your own, not because of Steve’s attention itself, but because of the way it allowed you to dismiss the fears you’d had of your own undesirability. The King of Hawkins High wanted you. You’re pretty sure it’s just as a steady fuck buddy, but still. You’d gone from scared to look boys in the eye to being very aware of the fact that you walking through the Harrington’s front door with your books and notes had a pretty much Pavlovian effect of Steve’s cock. He was basically hard fifteen minutes into any tutoring session these days.
It’s not that Steve’s attention has validated you, per se. It’s more that it has made you realize how silly men are. How easy and one track minded they can be. Its almost silly to think how starved you had been for approval and how sure you’d been that your status as an A+ goody goody made you untouchable. That was clearly, judging by the bruises Steve left on your thighs each week, not the case. The whole thing has made you ten times less nervous in his presence. And if you don’t have to be nervous around the King, it essentially means that you’re more at ease everywhere.
At first this change in you intrigues Steve. He truly had never really given you much thought prior to the start of your dalliance. Sure you were pretty…in a stuffy, academic, good girl type of way. But he was always a bird of prey, looking for shiny, garish, colorful and shapely things to catch his eye.
So the day you show up to his place in a tight skirt and a fashionable off the shoulder blouse that bares your collar bones and exposes cleavage, Steve’s eyes practically pop out of his head.
“Well hello,” he says directly to your tits. You roll your eyes and step around him into the house.
“Hi, Steve,” you reply, walking towards the dining room where you usually have your sessions. Steve jogs up behind you and grabs you at the waist, turning you back to him.
“Not in there. Let’s study in my room.”
“Why?” you ask, confused by the sudden change.
“Well, my parents are home,” Steve elaborates. Heat fills you as you realize what he means, but you cock your head to the side, waiting for him to say it. Steve rubs the back of his neck and chuckles. “So we can’t…have fun in the dining room.”
“I’m here to tutor you, Steve. So I guess it’s okay if we can’t have fun,” you say with a shrug. You can’t suppress your smile though and Steve’s smile widens. A few weeks ago you would have stuttered and gone shy but immediately compliant, hoping to please him. This was new.
“Yeah but what about when I get an answer right?” Steve asks, stepping forward and lifting his hand so he can play with the hem of your shirt. “You know I need positive reinforcement.”
You do your best to hide your swallow at the memory of how you had sucked his cock after you’d cajoled him into memorizing his flash cards. Even more heat courses through your body but you look up at him defiantly.
“I brought a packet of gold stars. You like stickers, Steve?”
Your answer catches him off guard and he lets out a bark of a laugh. There’s a triumphant fanfare ringing in your ears at the fact that you are able to make Steve laugh like that. Organically and not part of any of kind of show or flirtation or charm offensive.
“I do like stickers…” he says, his hand dipping under the hem of your top and splaying out over the bare skin of your waist. “But I think this body might motivate me better.”
Your breath catches in your throat at that. His heavy eye contact leaves you nowhere to run. Not that you’d ever run from Steve. He’s a magnet pulling you in regardless of distance or context.
But he’s also made the vital mistake of showing his hand. He wants something from you, too. This isn’t a one way serving pity situation. You might be dumb with his cock in you, but before it gets to that point you’re still the smartest girl in Hawkins. So you use this information to your advantage.
You take his hand and walk him up the stairs (a bold move that he didn’t see coming and which makes him immediately rock hard as he watches your ass away ahead of him up the steps).
You’re the one who closes the door. He locks it.
You end up getting Steve to complete all of his homework…by himself. With motivation in the form of a game where you give him a sticker after he completes each assignment and he gets to decide which body part of yours it goes on. By the end of the afternoon you’re naked on his bed, a sticker on each of your tits, each of your ass cheeks, your bellybutton, and your lower abdomen. By the end of the session his head is squeezed between your thighs, his hands roaming and roving to squeeze each soft piece of flesh he’d bedazzled with his gold stars of favor.
So yeah. At first your increased confidence was something Steve found pretty fucking hot.
But as time went on, he began to realize that your confidence didn’t begin and end with him. He started seeing you around in school more. It’s not that you had somehow increased the amount of times you cross his path in a day, exactly. More that you used to melt into the background a bit more. He’d notice you only if you were right in front of him shyly waving. He’d wave back dutifully at his tutor, sometimes throwing you a bone in the form of a wink, lazily enjoying the way it would so obviously throw you into a tailspin with virtually no effort on his part.
Now you’re somehow everywhere all at once. And not only are you noticeable in the crowd - you stand out from it. Your hair is more stylish, your clothes are unapologetically patterned and colored and fit you in ways his hands envy. Your smile is brighter than the god damn fluorescents above. And now Steve is the one who has to maneuver to catch your eye. Because you’re always talking to people these days, it seems. And a lot of those people are guys, Steve notices begrudgingly.
You stand with your back against a locker, your books pulled to your chest as your arms wrap around them, a smile on your face that is definitely not worth the lame ass comment said by the dumb jock standing before you. Steve pauses at the water fountain where he’d been bending when he’d turned his head and saw you. So clearly the recipient of some football player’s attention.
And boy do you glow under attention.
That week when you arrive at his house to tutor him, Steve tries to charm you again into simply fucking outright. Again, you coyly dance around it, making him work for it. He ends up losing his patience and crowding you in the kitchen when you get up for a snack.
“Steve! I’m trying to—!” You’re squealing but he swallows it up as he takes the coke can out of your hand and blindly moves it away from you, his mouth already hot on yours.
Before you can register what’s happening, Steve’s hoisted you up onto the kitchen counter and pushed his way between your spread legs.
“What?” Steve asks, pulling away and feigning nonchalance as if he hadn’t just manhandled you and mauled you with his lips. “You said we could have a snack break.” He slides a hand down to cup your pussy through your skirt. He pets at the place over your clit. “This is my snack.”
What would have once rendered you speechless makes you roll your eyes.
“I’m actually hungry, Steve.”
Steve gives you a lopsided grin and drops his hand on his hard on, evident and swell in the confines of his jeans.
“Got a snack for you right here.”
You laugh at that and Steve feels something akin to pride zing through him. But it’s not exactly like pride, an emotion he knows well. No, it’s something different. Warmer.
“As much as I do enjoy that particular snack, Harrington, I don’t think your cum will satiate me.”
“Fuck. Dirty talk and big words like ‘satiate’.” Steve pretends to feel faint with a hand on his forehead. “You really have this hot smart girl thing figured out.”
You shake your head at him but smile, and Steve hates the fact that it’s your smile that makes him even harder.
He also hates the fact that fifteen minutes later he finds himself sliding into a booth at the local diner rather than sliding himself into your sweet pussy.
You’d cajoled him into taking you for a real meal since there was nothing to eat at his place. And no, you’d continued to argue. His cock was not a balanced meal.
His hand had been on your thigh for half of the drive to the diner before he realized, like ice water down his back, that the whole situation reeked of a date. He’d pulled his hand back over to clutch at the steering wheel with a double grip, eyes flitting to you anxiously. However you seemed not to notice, looking instead out the window pleasantly.
As he’d parked Steve had made a mental note to reel in the PDA. He didn’t want you thinking this was more than it was. More than a weekly fuck session between two consenting people. One of whom used to have the upper hand and one of whom…had the sexiest smile with lips that looked sinful wrapped around a stripped straw and cheeks that hollowed sexually as they sucked—
Fuck.
Steve Harrington was in trouble.
The meal went by quickly, and over time you were able to pull him from his rattled internal monologue, stealing his fries and teasing him for getting in trouble in class earlier in the day. Steve throws a fry at you and nudges your foot with his under the table. You laugh. His stomach flips. His palm itches so he drops it under the table and rubs it against the denim on his thigh.
When the waitress comes with the check, you bound to the bathroom and Steve gets a minute to get his shit together.
He’s Steve fucking Harrington. Supreme stud of Hawkins High. Another girl every week (although if he was counting, which he wasn’t, it had been a few weeks since he’d reracked his rotation). He fishes his wallet out of his too-tight jeans and drops down some bills.
“Thanks, handsome.”
Steve looks up, expecting to see you but instead realizing it had come from the waitress who he’d forgotten was standing there. She’s a pretty thing, maybe a year or two older. He’s seen her working here before and he lets his eyes roam over her figure unabashedly. Her uniform isn’t zipped up all the way in the front, leaving exposed a generous swell of cleavage and her waist flares out into a voluptuous set of hips. She taps a manicured nail on her order pad, patiently waiting for him to finish oogling her. She’s a hot girl and he’s a hot guy. She knows this dance and so does Steve. When he drags his eyes up from her tits to her face, she looks expectant.
This is the part where he chats her up. Where he compliments her - or cuts her down a bit in a boyish, redeemable way - and then asks her out. He’s supposed to give her his million watt rich boy smile, run a hand through his hair, and turn on the charm.
She’s expecting it. He’s expecting it of himself.
But instead, all he can manage is a nod and a tight smile. He watches the waitress’s brows raise and her smile fall a bit. But then she’s simply picking up the money and walking away. Steve has a moment of panic as his eyes drop to watch the sway of her ass as she retreats. What the fuck is wrong with him? He could have been tucked away in his car with that hot woman, spanking that ass within the hour.
Instead he’s still tucked away in a booth at a diner her didn’t want to go to, still painfully hard without an outlet in sight.
Which is when he hears your laugher ring out, causing said hard cock to twitch. Steve turns quickly to find you standing by the entrance to the bathroom, cornered by yet another football player.
He sees red. The way you’re leaning up against the wall is a mirror image to when he’d seen you receive attention earlier in the week by your locker. You gaze up at the football player with a smile that Steve realizes he’d assumed was only meant for him. It boils his blood to think that the smile you’d bestowed on him so dutifully, so loyally, was just your smile. A thing to be handed out like some cheap party favor to any Tom, Dick, or Harry.
Steve can’t know - especially from a distance - that you really are only humoring this guy. If one looked closer they could never mistake the tight lipped, emotionless nicety on your face for the radiant, full bodied smile you reserved for Steve. You’d gotten cornered by the jock on your way back to the bathroom, and you’d been trying to politely extricate yourself from his lukewarm advances for a few minutes now.
He was rambling about his car and the upgrades he’d gotten done to it when suddenly a pair of big hands land heavy on your shoulder.
“Babe, I paid the check. Let’s get out of here.”
You whip your head around to find Steve behind you, though his gaze is placed firmly on the football player. Though they aren’t the same in width, Steve’s got the guy beat in height, and he uses it to his advantage by standing up straight and puffing his chest a bit.
“Harrington,” the jock chokes out. In the Hawkins hierarchy, the basketball team is more successful than the football team by a long shot, so a certain amount of deference is expected for the king of the court, even from fellow athletes. “I’m sorry…I didn’t…is this your girl?”
Steve feels you go rigid under his hold. Your eyes flash up to his but he doesn’t meet yours.
“Don’t you have a playbook to memorize?” Steve asks coolly. He pulls lightly and your back presses against his chest. “If I remember football season right, I’d say it’s gonna take you till fall and then some. Better get back to it.”
You try to laugh his comment off and put a hand on the bicep of your would-be suitor.
“Steve, this is—,”
“Mr. Irrelevant,” Steve completes for you, smoothly using both an insult and a football pun.
The jock stutters another apology before ambling back to his friends. You don’t have time to question Steve because his arm is suddenly around you, pulling you with him out the door.
The two of you walk briskly to his car, and only when you reach the passenger door do you finally regain your powers of speech.
“What was that in there, Steve?” you ask quietly. Your hand is on the door handle but you remain motionless.
“What? I told you, I don’t like football players,” Steve says with a shrug, yanking open the driver side door and dropping into his seat. You climb in carefully and watch him as he violently pulls on his seatbelt.
“Why?”
“Because they’re a bunch of meat heads and it’s a sport revolving around how many concussions they can rack up—,”
“No, Steve,” you interrupt gently, your hand dropping on his knee. “Why were you acting…possessive?”
Steve’s skin burns through his jeans where your hand touches him. He stares at it for a second before looking up, agitated.
“Well excuse me for saving you. I thought you’d be thanking me for getting that guy to stop drooling on you.”
His words sting and you wince. Steve even winces a bit, having not intended to sound so forceful. You shrug.
“He was only being nice.”
Steve let’s out a humorless laugh.
“That wasn’t being nice. That was undressing you with his eyes. That was trying to get you to let him feel you up under the bleachers. Nice is—,”
“Nice is flirting with your tutor to get her to do your homework?”
Steve freezes before he can turn the key in the ignition. He looks over to find that you’re staring blankly out the windshield. Your arms are hugging you, like you’re trying to comfort yourself.
“That’s not…”
“Nice is fucking her when you’re bored? Your little prescheduled sex appointment?”
Steve’s defenses raise and he unbuckles his seatbelt so he can turn more fully to you.
“Hey wait, that’s—,”
“That’s exactly what this is. I haven’t misunderstood that, Steve,” you say, finally turning the full force of your earnest gaze on him. “Have you?”
Steve blinks at you slowly. Completely unsure about what’s going on and how the night has taken this turn.
He’s even more bewildered when you suddenly move to climb into the back seat.
“What are you doing?” he asks, surprised and leaning over to watch you lay yourself down on the seat.
“You wanted to fuck me earlier. So do it.”
Steve feels like you’ve slapped him in the face. Your stare is cool and you begin to unbutton your blouse. Panic rises inside of him and his head whirls around.
“Here? Someone could see,” Steve argues. They are in the back corner of the parking lot, but it’s a parking lot nonetheless, illuminated by one sole street lamp. You shrug.
“The windows are tinted, aren’t they?”
Steve can’t begin to comprehend the conflict coursing through his veins. Of course the windows are tinted. Almost illegally so. He knows that because he’s fucked countless girls in the back seat of his car. Hadn’t he even just thought about fucking that waitress in his car only minutes ago?
But with you…
He’s thrown off by the urge he has to cover your breasts with his hands when you peel back your top. Not even to touch you but just to keep you from being seen by others.
Why does he fucking care?
King Steve had fucked at every party he’d ever been to - sometimes even in rooms with no doors or up against the back of a house with people nearby on a porch. He’d never once had a conscience about it. As long as the girl was down, he was ready to go.
So why is it different now, with you stripping in his back seat and staring at him with big doe eyes?
“Come on. Don’t make me get started by myself,” you say teasingly. You’re clearly trying to lighten the suddenly heavy mood. Steve swallows hard.
“You wouldn’t.”
You quirk an eyebrow at him and lift the hem of your skirt. You’re wearing a lacy scrap of panties that match your bra. Definitely a far cry from the sensible underwear you’d been wearing the first time he’d seduced you.
“Try me.”
And despite the confusion and warning bells going off in his head, Steve’s clambering into the back seat in seconds. He’s on top of you, hips shoved between your thighs and big hands on your wrists, pinning them above your head against the inside of the car door.
“That’s more like it,” you coo, smiling a dazzling smile up at him. It thrills him and upsets him and makes him frustrated all at once, and since he doesn’t know how to express that with words he does it physically. His mouth drops to your neck so he can pull a sizable amount of flesh between his lips and suck. Hard. You gasp and arch up into him, giving him the perfect opportunity to switch your wrists into a single handed grip so he can move the other hand down to grope at your breasts. Instead of covering them and hiding them, he rips down your bra, letting your breasts spill from the cups.
Steve bites a bruising trail down from your neck to your cleavage, sucking harder than he ever has before.
“Trying to be cute, huh?” he growls against your skin. You laugh breathlessly, wrists straining against his hold.
“Yeah. ‘s it working?”
That makes Steve strangle a laugh but it still frustrates him. You’ve somehow still got the upper hand here. Even though you’re below him and your body is at his mercy. When did the tables turn so fully?
So he sits up abruptly, leaving you laying back, legs still open wide around his hips, his spit still drying around the new bruises sucked to your neck. You’re motionless for a second before leaning up on your elbows to look at him, dazed.
“I’m a little unconvinced,” Steve says with a shrug. A frown filters over your features. You watch as he smooths his hands up and down your thighs, looking at your panty-clad center appraisingly.
“What are you unconvinced about?” you ask. Steve draws a line with his index finger over the length of the waistband of your panties.
“That you really want it bad enough.”
Frustration flickers in your eyes.
“Want what?” you ask, playing along. Steve drops one hand to the bulge in his jeans.
“This cock.”
You roll your eyes and sit up higher.
“Of course I want—,”
“I’m not sure, baby. You were gonna touch yourself back here. Maybe I should have let you handle it.” His actions contradict his words as one hand rubs slow circles right at the crease where your thigh meets your hip. Your eyebrows knit together.
“No, I want you,” you reply, almost petulantly.
There it is.
This is what Steve needed.
But he shakes his head. Now that he’s got you back on the line he’s going to enjoy this to the fullest.
“Maybe you had the right idea,” he says, leaning back a bit against the opposite door. The backs of your thighs still rest on the tops of his, and with one hand still heavy on you, his free hand pops open the button of his jeans. You feel the slide of his zipper rush down your spine.
When Steve pulls his cock out and begins to stroke it, you feel your stomach drop and your mouth water. He’s watching you as he does it. Eyes darting from your breasts almost spilling out of the cups of your bra to the wet spot in the center of your panties. It makes you hot. It turns you on in a way that’s almost painful to watch the flushed fat head of his cock disappear and reappear in the grip of his fist.
“I’m…I’m right here,” you mutter. Steve grins and takes his hand from his cock and slides it confidently under the elastic hem of your panties.
“Yeah, you are.”
The intrusion of his fingers is sudden and sure and you gasp at the feeling of them sliding through your slick. He swirls a few circles around your tensing hole before sliding up to press circles into your clit. You drop back down off your elbows and let out a satisfied moan at the stimulation you’d craved.
But then…he’s pulling his hand back, allowing the elastic of your panties to snap back on you with a sting. You sit up again fast and watch as he takes the wetness he’d gathered from you to make the glide of his hand on his cock more smooth. Your jaw drops.
“Thanks, baby,” Steve says with a wink.
“Steve, what?!”
He shrugs.
“I would’ve asked you to spit in my hand but I didn’t think you would since you’re having an attitude.”
That. That struck exactly the nerve he thought it would. Your jaw sets and your eyes flash. Scooting back a bit so you, too, can lean on the inside of the door closest to you, you drop your legs open wider, well aware of the way Steve’s attention immediately drops to them.
“You’re not very nice, Steve Harrington,” you say quietly. Both of your hands move to squeeze at your own breasts and you arch into your own touch. Steve chuckles at that, eyes on your hands.
“And you’re nice even when you’re pissed apparently,” he says dismissively. Your frown deepens as you pull your bra down to expose you fully. Steve’s face goes blank, like you hoped.
“Fuck you,” you respond, just as quiet as before. Steve’s eyes remain glazed, hand moving faster on his cock, but he gives a lopsided grin.
“There she is. Feisty.”
The interior of the car has started to heat up. The humid smell of sex fills the air, though you’d prefer actually having sex. He’s been pushing it tonight, but you really can’t help the way you feel watching his big hand move on his even bigger cock. It should be inside you. This is the day of your tutoring session. The one day of the week that almost guaranteed you had his attention. Every other day, King Steve belonged to Hawkins. He was a heartthrob and a hometown hero. Probably inside of a different girl each night of the weekend (though you try not to think of that because it’s gross).
But on tutoring days it’s just you. So the fact that he’s choosing to touch himself rather than fill you has you feeling petty. It makes you redouble your efforts. You pinch one of your nipples and let out a heady, performative sigh, all while your other hand moves down and shoves inside your panties. You trace the same path Steve did, circling your hole and then your clit. Getting yourself nice and worked up with your eyes glued on the way Steve drags his hand over his throbbing dick.
Steve is mesmerized, as seems evident by the way he’s stopped talking to watch you. To hear you.
When you push two fingers inside of yourself, you let out an indulgent moan that causes Steve’s hips to buck into his hand. Your thighs quiver where they remain stretched out around his legs.
You drop your other hand down into your stretched out panties to play with your clit while you continue thrusting fingers in and out of yourself - that’s when Steve loses it.
“Show me,” he says gruffly, eyes ripping from the space between your legs to look up at you blearily.
“You’re literally watching me right now,” you laugh, breathless. Steve shakes his head and reaches out to tug on the edge of your panties.
“Get this shit out of the way.”
Now it’s your turn to shake your head.
“Nope. You had your chance with my pussy. You wanted your hand.”
The filthy words coming from you almost makes his eyes roll back in his head. He grunts and continues fisting his cock, but he looks more frustrated now.
Unfortunately there’s something of a Pavlovian response in your body at the sight of his aggression. Whether you like it or not, your burgeoning sexuality had crackled into being under the hands of Steve Harrington, and Steve being Steve is what gets you going.
Unlucky for you and the upper hand you’re trying to cling to, Steve can tell. Back to back weeks of fucking the same person will do that to you, apparently.
“You’re close.” It’s more accusation than observation.
You want to disagree but your fingers speed up on your clit and you widen your legs even more, looking to build pressure.
“Yeah. I am.”
“Fuck.” Steve slows his hand on his cock, breathing deeply and placing a laser focus on your hands in your panties. “Bet you’re getting tight around those fingers, huh?”
“Yeah,” you nod, eyes closing and head thrown back against the door. “Really tight…”
Steve let’s out an uncharacteristically pathetic moan. The thrill of it causes your core to contract even tighter.
“Bet you wish I was sucking those tits right now,” Steve remarks, replaying in his head all the times he’d made you cum lately. You lift up to look at him with stern hooded eyes and pull one of your hands from your panties. With a pointed look you raise your fingers to your mouth, lick them wetly, and then bring them down to play with your nipple. Your hips buck into your other hand and Steve loses his fucking mind.
“Alright, that’s fucking it,” he says, launching himself forward. He’s on you in the blink of an eye, hitching your legs up and around his hips, dropping so that his elbows cage you in on either side of your head. The length of his cock slides parallel to your entrance with a wet sound, pushing your pussy lips apart.
“Finally,” you moan petulantly. And that’s all the consent Steve needs to reach down and line himself up so he can thrust into you.
Things get hot and hazy after that. Your fingers thread into his hair and pull hard at the roots. Steve’s tongue and teeth are everywhere, but especially on your pulse point and on the peaks of your breasts.
The slap of skin on skin fills the interior of the car, rivaled only by your shared panting.
Steve shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t be such a relief to sink into your body, like it’s a home he’s been waiting to return to. Your nails biting into his back through his shirt shouldn’t feel like heaven and your little mewls and gasps shouldn’t be an angel’s chorus. He’s not even fucking religious, so what’s with the holy comparisons?
“Oh Steve. Fuck,” you whisper moan right into his ear. Steve slides a hand under you to push your lower back up, giving your hips a tilt that lets him hit deeper.
“It’s good, yeah?” he asks. It’s a question but it’s cocky. You bite his earlobe and clench around him.
“I don’t know, is it?”
“Fucking Christ.”
Yeah. Steve Harrington is seeing god in the back seat of his car in a diner parking lot.
~*~
It takes a minute for you both to catch your breath when you’re done. Sweat and cum and words left unsaid create a film over the two of you which makes it hard to breathe.
Eventually Steve helps you climb back into the front seat before hoping behind the wheel himself to bring you back to the empty Harrington house. Upon arriving, Steve puts the car in park and turns to you, intent on speaking though he’s not sure what he plans to say. You, however, give him no such chance to figure it out as you bound out of the car and up the path to the front door. Steve catches up to let you in.
It’s later than it usually is when you wrap up your tutoring sessions. Steve has to turn on lamps as he follows you through the dark foyer and into the dining room where he finds you already grabbing your things and packing your bag up, half hidden in shadow.
“We didn’t finish the work,” he says quietly. Some what dumbly. You hoist your bag over your shoulder and give him a smile that deep down he knows he doesn’t deserve.
“Yeah. Looks like we’ll have to finish another time.”
When you start for the door, moving at a brisk pace, Steve stumbles after you.
You’re over the threshold and making your way to your car, glowing in the yellow light of the porch lamp before Steve can blurt out.
“When?”
God, he does sound fucking dumb.
And you. You turn and give him one last smile. Looking so put together. So smart.
“That’s up to you, Steve,” you say with a shrug, opening your car door. “You let me know.”
And with that, you get in your car and drive away. Leaving Steve standing alone on his porch with his thoughts.
~*~
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Ahhh originally had no intention of writing a part two and then this happened. Please reblog and comment to let me know what you think and thanks for reading!!
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power-chords · 4 months ago
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The Doves Type legend is one of the most enduring in typographic history and probably the most infamous. It’s the story of a typeface and a bitter feud between the two partners of Hammersmith’s celebrated Doves Press, Thomas James Cobden-Sanderson and Emery Walker, leading to the protracted disposal of their unique metal type into London’s River Thames. Starting in 1913 with the initial dumping of the punches and matrices, by the end of January 1917 an increasingly frail Cobden-Sanderson had made hundreds of clandestine trips under cover of darkness to Hammersmith Bridge and systematically thrown 12lb parcels of metal type into the murky depths below. As one person so aptly commented on Twitter recently, this notorious tale bears all the hallmarks of a story by Edgar Allan Poe.
The original Doves Type was crafted by master punchcutter Edward Prince, based on drawings produced by Percy Tiffin of Nicolas Jenson’s pioneering 15th-century Venetian type. William Morris, founder of the Kelmscott Press, had actually developed his own ‘Golden’ type some years before The Doves Press came into being but Doves is held by experts as being more faithful to the original Venetian letterforms.
The Doves Type was commissioned in 1899 and created solely by Prince in 16 pt; it was used in all of the press’s publications including their iconic edition of the King James Bible. Each Doves Press book was beautifully bound and, notes Green, noticeably “stripped of decorative borders and illustration, the elegantly clear & legible type acting alone as visual siren-song.”
By 1908, despite successful Milton prints and the aforementioned Bible, the Press was in dire financial difficulty. Subscribers began melting away after Walker had effectively left in 1906 as the bitter & acrimonious dispute took hold between the partners. On finally dissolving their partnership in 1909, Cobden-Sanderson began attempts to wriggle out of an earlier promise that, should the partnership cease, Walker would receive a fount of type ‘for his own use’. Walker retaliated, issuing a writ insisting that the Press shut down completely and he receive 50% of remaining assets. In 1909, the Press’s only valuable asset was the type.
A compromise was reached, brokered by their exasperated friend Sir Sydney Cockerell, which allowed Cobden-Sanderson uncontrolled use of the type for as long as he lived, at which time it would pass to Emery Walker, if he did not die first.
The thought of ‘his’ typeface being used by anyone else, and in a manner beyond his control, prompted Cobden-Sanderson’s now infamous course of action. Only the Doves Press, run exclusively by him, could be bestowed the honour of printing his type. And so the mission to destroy it, beginning with the punches and matrices on Good Friday 1913, began. On an almost nightly basis from August 1916 the ailing septuagenarian dumped the type into the Thames, wrapped in paper parcels and tied with string; “bequeathed to the river” as he put it in his personal diary. Every piece of this beautiful typeface, more than a ton of metal, was destroyed in a prolonged ritual sacrifice.
—Raised from the dead: The Doves Type story, 2013
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After working on a revised digital facsimile Robert Green decided that he would try and find some of the original metal type. Using the sources available, including Cobden-Sanderson's published journals, Mr Green worked out where he thought the type was thrown from the bridge into the Thames.
At low tide, and with a mudlarkers licence, he scoured the Thames foreshore and found three pieces of the original type.
Due to the dangerous nature of the Thames currents and tides a team of professional divers from the Port of London Authority then spent two days looking for more type and a total of 150 pieces were recovered.
—One man's obsession with rediscovering a lost typeface, BBC News, 2015
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lonelyasawhisper · 26 days ago
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Queen: A Night At The Garden
Kris Nicholson, Creem, 1st May 1977
Queen's music is like strong mouthwash. It takes my breath away but that initial rush is as temporary as it is abrupt. This probably has something to do with the discrepancy between what Queen is and what Queen would like to be. Queen IS a good studio band-cum-variety show with a flair for novelty, a patent on mock opera and Rock of Gibraltar guitar harmonies. What they would like to be is a good studio band and a great live act. Unfortunately they've mastered a studio perfection that does not lend itself to accurate live interpretation. Whether or not they choose to approach the two mediums separately, the fact remains: kids are amazed at Queen records and they expect to be doubly amazed by their concerts.
If Queen—without the assistance of tapes—could reproduce their studio sound live, they'd certainly be one of the most impressive bands on the rock scene. But they can't and they aren't and it's the vocals that cause most of the problem. They'd need at least five Freddie Mercurys [Aaargh!—Ed.] to do it right. (Imagine Mercury quints; five golden-throated, leotarded, stiffly posed fools.) If only Freddie Mercury could sing two notes at a time!
There is a gadget known as a harmonizer that provides a delayed echo and allows Freddie to harmonize with himself, but this effect has its limitations and is reserved for special occasions like "Killer Queen" and Freddie's spotlight solo in "White Man."
Lacking a consistently believable production of their music, the least Queen could do is compensate for aural imperfections with visual delights. Try as they might, their use of flash pots and strobe lights is old hat and the five basic postures in Freddie's crude ballet are amateur still life, pale in comparison to the volume and the ideas of the band's music.
Let us proceed to the actual scene of a Queen concert and see if we can discover just what keeps this band alive.
It is February 5th at Madison Square Garden. I see a sign bobbing and weaving through the upper aisles of the arena. At first it looks like it's moving of its own free will and then two heads become visible at either end of the banner. This is a familiar one. In three-foot high letters it boasts, "Queen is King." Behind and way above me, up in those seats in the clouds, (that us rock writers never get stuck in) there are two more signs held by fans. They read: "Queen A Night At The Garden" and "Queen Takes My Breath Away."
I wonder how many of these kids have seen Queen before. Will they be disappointed? Darkness sets in. The PA system blasts solo piano recital music that eventually fades into a tape of one of those majestic guitar intros Brian May likes to embroider around the beginning of his songs. The first chords of "Tie Your Mother Down," hit like thunder, maybe even induce butterflies in the stomach, temporarily.
The image of Freddie Mercury strikes. Decked in some kind of baggy white karate jump suit the singer looks sexier than he ever did in those ridiculous striped suspender shorts. For a moment Freddie has me believing that he's cut his overbearing physical exposure from the act. But by the third song he's stripped down to a second skin of white, commonly known as leotards. In Freddie's case they're pain in the ass leotards. Every five minutes he becomes distracted as a leotard strap shimmies down his shoulder. He searches for a moment when he can inconspicuously slide it back up before the whole damn thing falls off. Unfortunately Freddie is not cool about it. By the end of the set I'm almost more intent on calculating the next time a strap will drop and how he'll get it back up, than I am on hearing the music.
Freddie is a strange cookie on stage. He waves his magic wand (actually it's a mike stand but you can use your imagination) and the flashpots explode. No big deal. Personally I think the Wizard of Oz had better flashpots and that movie was filmed decades ago. Freddie addresses the audience, "Listen my darlings, let me do the talking for a change." Yecch! Too coy. I don't believe him.
"Somebody To Love" comes early in the set. This is what is called strategy. It comes early in the set because it's impossible to do justice to in concert. If everything else goes right, by the end of the show the kids will have forgotten how punchless the live version is in comparison to the lush production that stole thousands of AM hearts.
Deep down, underneath the black nail polish, there is some talent.
Besides Freddie, the only really visible member of Queen is Brian May. May is the exact opposite of Mercury— a real Yin-Yang combination. In the words of Chuan Tzu, "The perfect negative principle is majestically passive (May). The perfect positive (Mercury) is powerfully active...the interaction of the two results is that harmony by which all things are produced." Somehow it DOES work.
Wanna puck? Monreal Mercurys owner displays the franchise's new uniform. (Note the hand-tailored sleeves and custom-fitted mouthpiece).
May appears silent and serious. He plays guitar as if he were studying constellations. There is nothing silly about him. Even the starch in his Elizabethan white shirt fits. He looks elegant, contemplative, (a misplaced 18th century poet?) and yet he plays with all the erotic energy and guts of the heaviest and dirtiest of rock 'n' rollers. You could say he doesn't look like he sounds. But this inconsistency serves to make his character all the more enchanting.
During "Brighton Rock" Brian takes a long solo. With the use of two echoplex systems he manages to produce the sound of three guitars. It's a well-crafted solo with lots of showmanship and lots of clean, thoughtfully executed riffs. He hardly moves while he's playing. All the energy is flowing from head to fingers. It's one of the few moments in Queen's set where nothing threatens to cancel out the emotion of his playing. Looking back on this a moment later, it's easy to understand what Brian has in mind when he says, "I want to be good in the sense of being more expressive."
Queen dares to attempt May's Mccartneyish " '39." It doesn't fare too well. Freddie sings it. Freddie sings all the songs. Funny, on the record Brian sings " '39." Maybe he feels that singing would be too much of a diversion while he's playing guitar.
In introducing "You Take My Breath Away," Freddie announces, "Maybe next time we'll come back with an orchestra." (While he's at it I hope he remembers to bring a choir, too.) Freddie adds, "You are what we call our sophisticated rock audience." Is he laughing because he knows it's a joke or is he uneasy because that's what he'd like to believe?
Imagine (Freddie) Mercury quints; five golden-throated leotarded, stiffly-posed fools.
Meanwhile the set has been embellished with intermittent gimmicks; a roadie hands a triangle to bassist John Deacon to hit one solitary note. What drama! Brian May plays a ukelele for five seconds during the band's instrumental version of "Bring Back Leroy Brown," etc. etc.
Freddie's vocal exhibition in "White Man" is impressive. He manages to sound like a voice and an instrument at the same time. It offers substantial evidence that deep down, underneath the black nail polish, there is some talent. Too bad he has to mask it in such demeaning external distractions as his unsteady Ian Anderson pose and his off-time dances to the music.
"Bohemian Rhapsody" is the evening's anti-climax. When the song reaches the really ornate vocal rounds Freddie disappears from the stage and all twenty thousand of us are left sitting in the dark. It's like faking an orgasm (need I say that the real thing is so much better?). Of course this maneuver is done so that Freddie can change his costume but it doesn't sit too well with me, not to mention the fifteen-year-olds behind me who think they're being ripped off. After all, they can hear the record at home. They want to see Queen do the humanly impossible, and when they're slipped a fast one they know it. "This is unforgivable," says one kid. "Yeah, they're gonna haveta do somethin' big to make up for that," his friend replies. Hear that, boys? You can't fool Mother Nature.
Freddie returns in black tights. He looks much better in black, especially now that he's got one of those real slick short hairstyles. White is too feminine. Again, strategy saves the day. The kids have been screaming for "Stone Cold Crazy" all night and now, when they're feeling cheated, "Stone Cold Crazy" will pacify them.
"Stone Cold Crazy" is perhaps one of the most breathless hard rockers that Queen does (on record) but somehow it loses its bite when a series of strobe lights begin to flash to the beat and eventually wind up totally off-beat, turning the frenzied effect into gaudy confusion.
Freddie dedicates "Keep Yourself Alive" to the audience. "Liar" is followed by "In The Lap Of The Gods." There are two encores, so l'm told. I didn't stay for them. I came to see if Brian May still knew what he was doing—I didn't need any more Mercury shenanigans.
We turn now to the scene of the post-Queen party. It's held at Oh Ho So in So Ho and it's so-so. Freddie is reputed to have a fascination for the Oriental and that's as good a reason as any to jam 500 press people into a 250 capacity restaurant. The food in this joint is really good, I come here all the time. But food is not what I'm interested in. Standing well over six-feet-tall, Brian May is easy enough to spot but he's busy holding court. I can barely justify barging in on the ladies in waiting, the men in waiting, the fans in waiting...later.
"Yeah, I know Frampton sold millions of records, but I don't think you can capture the whole thing outside of a studio."
In the meantime my friend Liz and I have decided that we're going to corner Freddie and ask him what brand nail polish he wears. She sees someone she knows who knows who we want to meet (Freddie) and she manages to get introduced while I play voyeur. Alas, the best-laid plans of mice and women... Freddie's nails aren't black or white. They're just old plain old fingernails. But, we do manage to find out that Freddie has been asked to pose with Mr. Pumping Iron himself, Arnold Schwarzenegger. Whether or not the event will take place is still a mystery. Freddie wasn't giving any clues.
Queen poses at left, shortly after Brian May's guitar mysteriously exploded sending slivers of wood and steel into the eyeballs of the rest of the group, causing temporary blindness. The matter is under investigation by Scotland Yard. Below, Roger: "Aye likes to put me boogies in me pant cuff 'cause it keeps 'em clean...Wot about it?"
Freddy: "Aye think ee wants one on 'is lens, eh?"
After at least an hour of anxious waiting for parking space beside Brian I finally score. Yes, he remembers doing the interview last year, but he says I look different. Yes, it must be the glasses. I don't have them on tonight. I'm blind as a bat but you know what they say about girls who wear glasses.
Pulling no punches; I explain to Brian that I'm doing a Queen story for America's Only Rock 'n' Roll Magazine. I am totally understanding as he apologizes, "We haven't been doing interviews 'cause we're so busy. We're playing all big concert halls and we're in a different city every night. We travel about five hours every day. It's just too hectic." If he wasn't such a nice guy I'd be saying, bullshit, everyone else does it, but he is SUCH a nice guy and I sympathize with every word he says. Two points for the power of smooth talking.
I proceed to find out that the next album will NOT be named after a Marx Brothers movie, that Groucho owns an official Queen II jacket and that Queen will be meeting him in L.A. Rock on Groucho!
On the subject of the band's incessant use of gimmickry, Brian comments, "A Day At the Races can be seen as an extension of A Night At the Opera". Though last year Brian's favorite album was Queen II, this year he professes to like A Day At The Races despite its similarities to Opera. He had once expressed discontent with Opera due to the switch of emphasis from guitar riff-based rockers to experiments with instruments like the Toy Koto, the genuine aloha ukelele and "Good Company's" guitar jazz band, not to mention Freddie's obsession for music in the movie musical genre.
A Day At The Races is the first self-produced Queen album. Previous albums had been stamped with both the band's name and that of Roy Thomas Baker—the man who served as scapegoat for numerous accusations regarding overproduction. A Day At The Races bears a pattern of excess remarkably similar to that of A Night At the Opera. Of producer Baker, Brian said: "We grew together and now we've got our own things to do. We always had a lot to say about the production anyway," he added, hinting at the possibility that Queen's vices have long since been self-inflicted.
Considering the vast amount of time and money spent on studio technique it is not surprising to discover that even before May had heard the influential playing of guitarists like Page and Hendrix, he was fascinated by Phil Spector's productions. "They were very emotional and very slushy," he explains with a gleam in his eye. Strange combination this romanticism, this background in astronomy, this technician who built his own guitar from the wood of an antique fireplace, this man whose songs are to him "very personal." Strange that all these experiences convene in one brain and come out with a split vote, half in favor of the schmaltzy sentimentality of numbers like the Beatle-ish "Long Away," the other half thrashing out in malevolent waves of heavy sound and male chauvinism, witness "Tie Your Mother Down."
Getting back to the matter of production. Brian recognizes the discrepancy between the live and studio version of a song like "Somebody To Love." It doesn't seem to bother him. Being dead set against the possibility of a live album, why should he worry as long as he's so busy filling big arenas that he doesn't have time to do interviews. Still, his heart is into making good studio recordings. "If we did a live album, it would have to be really good, but I can't imagine it. I think live albums are a cop out." He pauses and smiles, "Yeah, I know Frampton sold millions of records, but I don't think you can capture the whole thing outside of a studio." This was all said with a degree of sincerity that I'd like to believe but a conflicting report challenges his position. Reliable sources seem to believe that Queen is considering the possibility of recording live in Japan this summer with the able assistance of none other than Roy Thomas Baker.
So Queen and success have met. So far the two are getting along. A year ago Brian May proudly announced that the only tape the band used was "God Save The Queen" at the beginning and ending of concerts. "We don't like the idea of using tapes as backing tracks," he explained. Considering the role tapes play in their current show, suffice to say times have changed.
A year ago Brian believed there were things Queen could do in a small theatre that they could never do in Madison Square Garden. "When you start playing those places you have to change your whole act. A group can become like a picture in a frame. Communication in arenas is much more difficult and needs to be approached carefully." Now that Queen is playing only big arenas Brian expresses a feeling of comfort within the new atmosphere, explaining that the band feels geared towards it now. Queen certainly manages to fill large halls with sound but whether they know it or not, they've not mastered a way of filling their new frame with a coinciding picture.
It's deadline day and devoted soul that I am I've taken it upon myself to listen to all the Queen albums in order. The first two are a breeze, Queen bouncing from melodic early Yes style to heavy Led Zep riffing and then on to the sledgehammer stance of Deep Purple at their most menacing.
By Sheer Heart Attack the seeds of gimmickry are planted and they begin to grow like a small malignant cancer. Freddie Mercury has stopped singing about mercury and biblical references are less frequent. The band's image becomes less majestic, more decadent, killer Queen, and then a complete turnaround with A Night At The Opera wherein the boys abandon guts for cutesy cleverness. It is by this album that Queen have become definitely Queen. Maybe the novelty twist is their only surefire approach to originality: heavy metal novelty? A Day At the Races, as accounted for earlier, is more of the same as Opera.
I can still hear Brian talking about Jimi Hendrix with a sense of awe: "He was the man." At the same time the image of Freddie comes into view. He is posing for pictures. He keeps an eye on his reflection in the mirror. He primps his jet black hair and snickers in a barely audible but intentional tone, "Got to keep up the image." It's hard to imagine a more diverse marriage of ideas. It's transient, it's experimental and it's confusing as hell.
Ever since their 1973 debut I've followed Queen. I've reviewed every album with enthusiasm and then somehow forgotten them until the next release reminded me that I like the last one. I get all excited when a Queen record comes out, but it doesn't last. What's the answer? Staying power? Preservatives? It's driving me stone cold crazy.
Retrieved from The Creem Archive
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notjustanyannie · 7 days ago
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'Donald Trump’s first two weeks in the White House have followed Bannon’s strategy like a script. The flood is the point. The overwhelm is the point. The message wasn’t in any one executive order or announcement. It was in the cumulative effect of all of them. The sense that this is Trump’s country now. This is his government now. It follows his will. It does what he wants. If Trump tells the state to stop spending money, the money stops. If he says that birthright citizenship is over, it’s over.
'Or so he wants you to think. In Trump’s first term, we were told: Don’t normalize him. In his second, the task is different: Don’t believe him.'
'There is a reason Trump is doing all of this through executive orders rather than submitting these same directives as legislation to pass through Congress. A more powerful executive could persuade Congress to eliminate the spending he opposes or reform the civil service to give himself the powers of hiring and firing that he seeks. To write these changes into legislation would make them more durable and allow him to argue their merits in a more strategic way....but Republicans have a three-seat edge in the House and a 53-seat majority in the Senate. Trump has done nothing to reach out to Democrats. If Trump tried to pass this agenda as legislation, it would most likely fail in the House, and it would certainly die before the filibuster in the Senate. And that would make Trump look weak.'
'That is the tension at the heart of Trump’s whole strategy: Trump is acting like a king because he is too weak to govern like a president. He is trying to substitute perception for reality. He is hoping that perception then becomes reality. That can only happen if we believe him.
'The flurry of activity is meant to suggest the existence of a plan. The Trump team wants it known that they’re ready this time. They will control events rather than be controlled by them. The closer you look, the less true that seems. They are scrambling and flailing already. They are leaking against one another already. We’ve learned, already, that the O.M.B. directive was drafted, reportedly, without the input or oversight of key Trump officials — 'it didn’t go through the proper approval process,' an administration official told The Washington Post. For this to be the process and product of a signature initiative in the second week of a president’s second term is embarrassing.'
'What Trump wants you to see in all this activity is command. What is really in all this activity is chaos. They do not have some secret reservoir of focus and attention the rest of us do not. They have convinced themselves that speed and force is a strategy unto itself — that it is, in a sense, a replacement for a real strategy. Don’t believe them.'
This doesn't mean that we give up fighting for the America that could be, a place of safety and opportunity for all, regardless of race, gender, orientation, etc. Even the smallest act of resistance is still resistance. This country was founded by the people, for the people. Get your friends together, call your Congress people and Representatives, let your voice be heard.”
This quote is taken from an article written by Ezra Klein
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adamwatchesmovies · 4 months ago
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Uglies (2024)
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Oh, the Young Adult Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian/Fantasy Novel Film Adaptation genre. How I’ve missed you. Uglies is a film cut from the same cloth as Divergent and The Darkest Minds. Its villains are obvious, which makes everything that follows evident. The romance and "shocking" revelations that follow are sure to have you rolling your eyes. Any potential it might’ve had is buried in overused ideas. Even if you haven’t seen where this clone's original genetic material comes from, you’ll be holding back laughs. I can’t wait for the sequel.
After the planet’s dwindling natural resources nearly caused civilization to collapse, a new society emerged to solve all of humanity’s problems. Genetically modified orchids provide free, renewable energy and humanity’s worst traits are expunged after they undergo extensive cosmetic surgery at the age of sixteen. Tally (Joey King) cannot wait to become one of the “Pretties” but when her best friend, Peris (Chase Stokes), undergoes the procedure, she has second thoughts. His personality has completely changed. Her uncertainty doesn’t go unnoticed. The city's lead scientist, Dr. Cable (Laverne Cox) assigns her a mission - she will remain one of the "Uglies" until she infiltrates the rebel group that lives in the surrounding wilderness and discovers the location of their leader, a terrorist named David (Keith Powers).
There are some good ideas there. Until you’re sixteen years old, you’re forced to live outside the city in restrictive dormitories. You’re told by the authorities that you need to be fixed and that you don’t fit in but that someday, you will. Once you undergo the surgery, you’ll start a new life “over there” with all the beautiful people living in this place you’re not allowed to visit but know is filled with non-stop revelry, fireworks and fun. If you grew up in a society that broke you down mentally every day, you’d do just about anything to get that carrot they've been dangling. Wanting to belong is something we can all relate to. With everyone over the age of sixteen either part of the corrupt governing body or brainwashed, it makes perfect sense for young heroes to be the driving force of rebellion and change.
The problem is that when we see this world in action - and I’m going to blame director McG here - every cell in your body says “This is wrong”. You take one look at Joey King. She looks fine. The “Pretties”, however, have a distinct sheen of special effects and makeup and the way they act/talk makes you immediately uneasy. When Dr. Cable tells Tally she can’t have the things she’s always wanted until she investigates this mysterious terrorist who operates outside the city, you know who the villain is. Even before we meet Dr. Cable, you’ve got this entire society figured out. From minute one, you’re waiting for our protagonist to catch up to you and scenes of flying skateboards can't make up the difference.
In the film’s defense, it’s got a good message. It’s what's on the inside that counts, and as a bonus, it doesn’t beat you over the head with it. The performances are… fine, so are the special effects. It’s not like anyone acts illogically or there are glaring technical errors, it’s that you feel like everything in this movie is beneath you. There are no interesting twists or revelations. There's nothing new to see. We never dig into Tally’s psyche enough for us to doubt our initial impression of this society. This world's sales pitch isn't good enough to make you think "You know, maybe they're an idea here worth exploring". No one who isn't brainwashed could see the idea of “Uglies” and “Pretties” as a good thing but the society isn't even sinister enough to be interesting and the secondary crisis is the definition of "underwhelming".
For me, the joy in Uglies, The 5th Wave, The Mortal Instruments: The City of Bones, etc. comes from seeing the boxes I know it will check get checked. Does the enemy become the friend? Does the transparently evil-looking character turn out to be evil? Are the protagonists anguished, system-smashing teens? Is there a plot-relevant scar or tattoo? Will victory come at the expense of a vaguely important, but ultimately useless supporting character? Is there a city surrounded by walls or a barrier? Will the first love romance get broken up? What’s the film’s equivalent of “Muggle” and what are the factions called? I’ve made a game out of it, where everyone watching gets random cards and the one who gets the most points once the credits start rolling wins.
Uglies is not worth your time, not when you could re-watch the Hunger Games, Harry Potter or even the Twilight and Maze Runner films but when/if the sequel comes out, I’ll be there. I want to see what comes next so when it comes to Uglies, do as I say, not as I do. (October 4, 2024)
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chloewatcheswrestling · 1 year ago
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Wrestling Love Letters
Intrigue and Mastery: A Traditional Japanese Villain Emerges
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Shinsuke Nakamura, the former three-time IWGP Heavyweight Champion, a man who's won the prestigious 2011 G1 Climax and the 2014 New Japan Cup, was also the founding member of the stable 'Chaos' (currently led by Kazuchika Okada), cemented his status as a true wrestling icon long ago. The King of Strong Style's journey through the world of professional wrestling has been nothing short of remarkable but, up until recently, he's been cruising along living the 'future hall of famer' life.
Shinsuke has always been able to capture the hearts of fans with his charismatic presence. Whether it's his infectious smile, his captivating entrance music that gets the crowd singing, or his unique in-ring style, Nakamura has always been a fan favourite. However, in recent times, it felt like something was missing. It seemed as though we hadn't seen a certain side of Shinsuke, and he was merely showing up to give us his best professional babyface performance without being a viable contender for a title or someone we eagerly anticipated seeing at the top of the card.
A contributing factor to this feeling was WWE's insistence on having Nakamura communicate primarily in English, limiting his ability to cut compelling promos. Despite this, he compensated adeptly with his eccentric and exaggerated facial expressions, which effectively conveyed his emotions when the scripts fell short. This issue isn't unique to Nakamura; it extends to other Japanese wrestlers, including Asuka and Iyo Sky, who also both occupy prominent positions on the roster and the women's title scene.
Then came the game-changing moment - Nakamura's heel turn on Monday Night Raw (August 7th, 2023) and subsequent promo the following week. The promo involved a clever twist: Nakamura initially speaking in English, pausing to contemplate his next words, only to dismiss the need for understanding from the crowd or his opponent and seamlessly transitioning to Japanese. It was as if the man brimming with charm had unearthed an entirely new reservoir of charisma.
For someone who has tried and failed to learn Japanese, witnessing Nakamura speak his native language with such animation was truly enchanting. It was as if he'd finally been allowed to show his true self and was running with that opportunity. His animated facial expressions, body language and impassioned delivery made it almost feel as though you comprehended his words, even if you couldn't speak a word of Japanese. This change demonstrated that the WWE audience don't always require spoon-fed storylines to grasp a narrative.
Shinsuke complimented his change in character with a slight tweak in his appearance, now wearing dark kimono-inspired outfits, evoking the classic Japanese villain archetype. This archetype typically pits the villain against a heroic protagonist, in this case, the baby face Seth Rollins. The hero-villain dynamic, central to many Japanese narratives like samurai epics and martial arts tales, usually unfolds with the villain displaying a complex relationship with the concept of honour and quite often they themselves were once a beloved hero. I initially questioned why it had taken so long for WWE to pull the trigger on this heel turn but soon realised that it may not have been as effective if acted on sooner.
Nakamura's decision to whisper a cryptic threat to Seth Rollins was a genius move to get the audience speculating what could have possibly been said (a wrestling storytelling technique reminiscent of Undertaker whispering to Bray Wyatt). And later revealing his knowledge of Seth's persistent back issues, ignited their feud brilliantly and played into the traditional Japanese villain traits of intelligence, cunning and manipulation. Following Payback 2023, the challenge was maintaining the momentum of this rivalry. Nakamura, adopting the quintessential villain role, goaded Seth to the point of Seth demanding a rematch, only for Nakamura to deny his request until he deemed the time is right. The calculated manipulation, marked by meticulous planning and tactics, exemplifies Nakamura's mastery of this character.
I'm confident I'm not alone in backing Shinsuke in this ongoing feud with Seth Rollins, I would love to see him have a heel run with the title, orchestrating the fate of the baby faces on the roster like a master puppeteer. While Rollins is a safe pair of hands, I'd like to see him drop down the card and confront the challenge of having to claw his way back up. This journey could infuse his character with a newfound intensity, potentially sowing the seed for a compelling character transformation. Nakamura has undoubtedly regained his cool factor, and it's high time for WWE to capitalise on this resurgence and explore fresh storytelling avenues.
With pins, submissions, and a whole lot of heart, Chloe xoxo
13.09.2023
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danwhobrowses · 2 years ago
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One Piece Chapter 1077 - Initial Thoughts
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Well we are back, the breaks always feel longer every time we get through them
But we have more Among Us to get through, so let's see what twists Oda offers today
Spoilers for the Chapter, Support the Official Release Also
Back in the present for the cover story with Judge and Caesar deciding that Vegapunk is to blame for their troubles
Sentomaru's trying to evacuate the island, telling the people that Ohara may happen to them
Funny flashback Aokiji face though
The shaky alliance are still fighting off the Seraphim, who keep getting up from the combo attacks
Zoro finally clicks on to the fact that the Seraphim look like King, prompting Shaka to confirm that the Seraphim have Lunarian properties
Did we know that it was Punk Hazard they were testing on them? I mean it makes sense given the DF but still
We get the gag of Zoro listing the clear telltale signs of a Lunarian though, but at least they know how to fight them now
Shaka meanwhile suddenly has a clue where the Stella body may be
And back to Nami, turns out she was being attacked by S-Shark
Unnecessary ass shot though
Seems like S-Shark has been busy, beheading Brook and beating down Edison, which only allows Nami to convince herself against her instincts to not hurt a child
The thunderbolt seems to hit hard, but S-Shark sank into the ground to flank Nami
Brook was about to make the save but then Sanji charged in, triggered of course by her scream last chapter
Although Sanji hit S-Shark hard it is worth reminding that the fire is still on its back when he hit them, but I can already tell that twitter's gonna zero in on it
WAIT! SANJI'S TWIRLY BROW CHANGED SIDES AGAIN!! I wonder if that means he's gonna tap into Vinsmoke powers again, maybe he has an anger shift?
With Team Lilith, Lilith manages to deter S-Snake with the Bubble gun
Turns out the Bubble Gun has the same effect as Sea Prism, and Sea Prism still works on Seraphim because of the Green Blood
Lilith's lil pose as Usopp and Pythagoras cheer for her XD
Franky uses the bubble to properly subdue S-Snake, but falls prey to the Seraphim's crocodile tears
Hit with a Perfume Femur, Franky is partially stoned, while Usopp and Lilith get fully stoned by being hit with her cutesy act and DF
Is this the thing I read Usopp would 'never do'? Honestly I thought it was something more dramatic than being caught in the DF powers
I wonder if Franky got fully stoned in transition, but since we know through Boa vs Blackbeard that only the user can undo the Stoning it's worrying for us right now
I do at least hope that Franky (and Usopp and Lilith but not as much of a priority) get unstoned given how an arc about Vegapunk always felt like it was gonna be Franky Season
The place the Stella is being kept is called a 'Devil Fruit Laboratory'
Shaka does arrive there to surprise, so I guess it wasn't him after all
Vegapunk Stella though asks who Shaka came with, leading to gunfire
Shot through the head, I doubt Shaka's getting up from that
'Ktok' is a unique sfx for walking isn't it? I feel like we've heard it before
Okay so RIP Shaka guys
All the Ohara information stored in his brain is now spilling on the floor, that's gonna sting for Robin, though the info should still be in Elbaf.
This was a good chapter to go back to, of course people will be upset that we didn't go back to Shanks but come on you had to have seen that coming? I do feel like while it makes sense for Sanji to jump in to rescue Nami that it still diminishes Brook being there, they split into groups for a reason after all. Also this means that Stussy and Jinbe were left out.
We have all the Seraphim accounted for though, only Pythagoras and maybe Franky are still active around S-Snake, but it was a shame to see Lilith and Usopp shafted even if it's temporarily. Key note though that Seraphim have the same DF weakness, could use those Sea Prism cuffs Lucci and Kaku had on some of them.
Sentomaru evacuating the island is important too, 100 Warships, an Admiral and a Gorosei are on the way, so it'll definitely be worse than Ohara, Egghead is gonna turn into a Warzone.
As for our ktok, it sounds metallic, but Vegapunk didn't recognize them from afar, so still hard to say, but we might get the reveal next week.
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maloned · 2 years ago
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The Photo-Realistic Little Mermaid?
I have to say, I really liked the live-action/photo-realistic remake of The Little Mermaid. It took a while to find its footing, but once it did, it was absolutely delightful.
The beginning of the movie was a bit challenging. It lacked originality and the visual effects fell short. I mean, Disney did a fantastic job with underwater scenes in movies like Wakanda Forever and Avatar: Way of the Water. In comparison, The Little Mermaid's underwater scenes were a bit blurry and dark. It felt like they were trying to mask the weak visual effects with motion blur and dim lighting.
Halle Bailey truly shined in her role. However, in that initial part of the film, it seemed like they were trying too hard to faithfully recreate the original animated version. Bailey's rendition of 'Part of Your World' felt like an imitation of Jodi Benson's version.
The movie hit a rough patch when it tried to differentiate itself from the animated original with Jonah Hauser-King's 'Wild Uncharted Waters.' Personally, I wasn't a fan of the song or the way it was performed.
But then, in the second act, the film finally found its charm and identity. Bailey's innocence in her performance of 'For the First Time' captured our hearts and allowed us, as humans, to become immersed in her perspective and experience the wonder of the human world through her eyes. Instead of being amazed by the underwater world, Bailey's portrayal made us feel like we were seeing our own world for the very first time.
Halle and Jonah had amazing chemistry. We couldn't help but root for them as we followed their day long date.
Our new found investment in the story and characters gained momentum, pulling us through the final act. (Spoiler alert) And I particularly loved that Ariel was the one who defeated Ursula, instead of Eric.
Melissa McCarthy, who is usually wonderful, was somewhat held back by distracting visual effects. On the other hand, Javier Bardem was absolutely spectacular in his role. He managed to overcome the weak special effects and the underdeveloped father-daughter relationship with Ariel. When King Triton finally let go and allowed Ariel to lead her own life, Bardem's performance compensated for any writing shortcomings and made me feel the emotional pain of a father letting go of his daughter.
All in all, I genuinely enjoyed this movie. The performances truly saved it, despite the subpar special effects and the lack of originality in the first act. That initial part could have set up the movie for failure, but thanks to Hailey, Hauser-King, Bardem, and the rest of the cast, the film rose from the depths of it’s flaws and emerged victorious.
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rabbitcruiser · 2 years ago
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National Tartan Day 
Research the history and culture of the Scottish people, represented by the iconic Tartan pattern often seen on kilts, blankets, and other clothing.
Tartan is one of the most recognizable patterns ever, and has a strong history for the people of Scotland. National Tartan Day was created to celebrate Scottish history and the achievements of people of Scottish descent around the world. While some areas hold marches and parades, other people simply celebrate it amongst themselves. For anyone who has ever been interested in Scottish history, National Tartan Day is just a great opportunity to research and learn.
Get ready to celebrate National Tartan Day!
History of National Tartan Day
National Tartan Day was initiated in the mid-1980s by the Scottish diaspora living in Canada at a meeting of the Federation of Scottish Clans in Nova Scotia. By 1997, the idea for the day had been approved and the annual celebration began to grow into other Scottish communities in North America and Australia.
By 1997, the idea for the day had spread to the United States and National Tartan Day was approved by the US Congress and President, and it was first celebrated the following year on April 6.
The reason for the celebration of the day on April 6 is because that is the date in 1320 when the Scottish King Robert I signed the Declaration of Arbroath. This was a letter written to Pope John XXII, responding to his excommunication from the church because he refused to stop fighting for Scottish Independence.
National Tartan Day Timeline
200-300 AD Scots start wearing Tartan
Sometimes confused with the word “Plaid” (meaning blanket), Tartan is the specific pattern woven both horizontally and vertically into the fabric.
1320 Declaration of Arbroath is signed
A letter is written, on April 6, by King Robert I, responding to Pope John XXII’s demands that Scotland sign a truce in the first War of Scottish Independence.
1746 Act of Proscription takes effect
In an effort to assimilate the people of Great Britain and crush the Clans, the government makes it so that the Scottish people could not revolt–and are not even allowed to wear their Tartans.
1986 First National Tartan Day is proposed in Canada
This day is proposed for April 6 to promote Scottish Heritage in Canada, originating in Nova Scotia, which means “New Scotland”.
1998 Tartan Day is adopted in the United States
The Scottish Coalition USA met the previous year to propose following in Canada’s footsteps and Tartan Day passes legislation in Congress during this year.
How to Celebrate National Tartan Day
Although National Tartan Day was originally created to celebrate Scottish history, there is no reason people of non-Scottish heritage cannot join in the fun. Try out some of these fun ideas for celebrating this exciting day:
Wear a Tartan for National Tartan Day
While many people in the English language refer to tartan as “plaid”, this is a misnomer. The term “plaid” is actually Gaelic for a blanket. The correct term for the vertical and horizontal stripes that are woven into the fabric is “tartan”.
Whether it be a scarf, skirt or even a kilt, show a bit of love for the fabric that never goes out of fashion this National Tartan Day by incorporating it into the day’s outfit. Those who have Scottish roots can choose the color and pattern of tartan that most represents the clan from which they descend.
Listen to Scottish Music for National Tartan Day
For those who do not especially fancy wearing tartan on this day, it would always be possible to celebrate by digging out an old classic from Bay City Rollers, the “tartan teen sensations from Edinburgh” and singing along to Bye Bye Baby! Or put on some tunes from twin brothers, Craig and Charlie Reid, otherwise known as The Proclaimers. Alternatively, this would be the right time to enjoy listening to some bagpipe music!
Enjoy Some Scottish Treats for National Tartan Day
In addition to simply donning some sort of tartan garment, this would be a great day to have some friends over to enjoy a bit of Scottish Fun! In addition to listening to some Scottish music, as mentioned above, enjoy some food that would be traditional to Scotland, such as Walkers Shortbread cookies which often feature tartan on the packages. Other treats might be haggis, oat cakes, “neeps and tatties”, Scottish pies or Irn Bru.
Join in on a Celtic Festival
Many Scottish communities throw festivals or parades in celebration of this day. For instance, the Tartan Day South Celtic Festival takes place in South Carolina each year. In New York City, Tartan Day is celebrated all throughout the week with a wide selection of events, including a 10K run around Central Park.
In addition, many pubs and bars that have Scottish roots will often host celebrations and offer discounts in honor of National Tartan Day, so be sure to check those out locally as well.
Of course, perhaps the best place to celebrate National Tartan Day might be to head on over to Scotland for a visit!
National Tartan Day FAQs
What is National Tartan Day?
National Tartan Day is a time set aside to celebrate Scottish Heritage, particularly in North America.
When is National Tartan Day?
National Tartan Day is celebrated on April 6 in Canada and the United States and on August 1 in Australia.
Why is National Tartan Day on April 6?
Canada and the United States proposed National Tartan Day for April 6 because it is the day that the Declaration of Arbroath was signed.
Is National Tartan Day a holiday?
National Tartan Day is celebrated as a recognized holiday in Canada and the United States, as well as Australia, though the date may be different.
How to celebrate National Tartan Day?
A great way to observe National Tartan Day is to enjoy celebrating all things Scottish, including wearing a Tartan or even visiting Scotland.
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horizon-verizon · 2 years ago
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What is this bullshit that the fact that Rhaenyra has children born out of wedlock and yet heirs, will upset the stability of the kingdom? 🙄 As if there hadn't already been "bastards" in power in history or even named as heirs? 😂
Rhaenyra is already doubted to be an effective leader due to her gender. It's not only that, many lords and their male relatives do not wish to be directed by a woman, used to male authority and patriarchal privilege. So there is the fear that some will resist and actually rebel to remove her.
Rhaenyra, just by being a woman, already "threatens the stability of the realm".
We think of how Henry VIII felt about his daughters Mary I and Elizabeth I, how hard he wanted a male heir, and how many wives he got rid of and abused--he wanted to make sure that his lineage and dynasty would survive, and to do that was to ensure he got legitimate males. (He had a few male illegitimate children, but you know.)
Thus the other fear is that some lord(s) will take Aemond, Aegon, Helaena, and Daeron and any children they may have to use against Rhaenyra. So Rhaenyra would be forced to order their executions or kill them in battle.
I understand the initial fear and concern, but I can't really excuse how far it went with what Show!Alicent knew of Show!Rhaenyra, with they were supposed to know of each other because of *close friendship*, the fact that Rhaenyra could have also claimed that those lords were trying to make her commit kinslaying (Jane Grey was Mary I's very distant relative while Aemond and the rest are closer kin to Rhaenyra), and the fact these people had dragons.
Book!Rhaenyra was not afraid to use her dragon either, as we read about Vaemond and the Driftmark Claim (she got Daemon to decapitate him and fed the remains to Syrax).
I also reject judging women for the same action a man can take without similar consequence, reaction, or punishment.
Back to bastards. Because Rhaenyra is already a "liability", her introducing bastards into the mix would complicate things since some lords already do not want a female ruler. Bastards are unfavorable because they are believed to be inherently untrustworthy and evil (Faith of the Seven). 
By having bastards, she acts "unwomanly" and against the standards set for her gender--how can she be a good ruler?! 
As if Jaehaerys I didn't get enough of the lords and peasants to accept Targaryen sibling-sibling incest through manipulation and propaganda, or that there was a time in their pre-Alysanne history that a lord could rape one of his peasant's/vassal's newlywed wife [right of the first night], which does go against what the Faith official doctrine teaches about gender-equal fidelity.
Some have counterargued that the V boys aren't bastards at all because they were born accepted by Viserys, Corlys, and Laenor. Others bring up what you do and counterargue that bastards have always occupied higher positions of power or were allowed to according to their parents and relatives or else's needs and desires for power and resources.
In real life:
before the 1200s in France, England and Spain, it was being born to the right parents–whether they were married according to the Church’s doctrines and rules–that made a child seem more worthy of inheriting their parents’ lands, properties, and titles.
several early medieval kings – Charlemagne as an example– had concubines, mistresses, etc. who mothered children that were very much apart of these kings’ lineages.
there was also a real concern behind this was that kings can marry and annul/divorce a lot easier or how their parents’ resources could provide for the child’s future vassalages.
it wasn’t until more and more medieval lawyers used Church doctrines of marriage to draw up reasons for some illegitimate children to not inherit some lands and rights, such as the Anstey case of the 1160s (if you doubt this wiki page, look through its references listed below).
“There is very little evidence to suggest that an interest in keeping illegitimate children from inheriting noble or royal title outweighed political or practical considerations in the same way that the policing of illegal marriages sometimes did.” (The Wire)
The fact that these medieval lawyers can even use another precept to exclude “illegitimate” children for succession for other lords and ladies when before, illegitimate kids can and often inherited their parents’ right and properties (William the Conqueror) speaks to how immaterial and unreal legitimacy itself is. 
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forthegothicheroine · 4 years ago
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The King in Yellow, 1949
Much of this story is true.  Warnings in the tags.
When I had pneumonia in my early teens, my mother brought home an armful of VHS tapes from the library to alleviate my misery.  Knowing my snobbish preferences, she had grabbed copies of whatever she found in black and white.  I remember something musical that I suspect was Busby Berkeley, I remember Mildred Pierce (a bad choice, as it turned out- the plot includes a young girl dying of pneumonia), and I remember a period piece called The King.  I faded in and out of consciousness while I watched it, but it soothed me while I was awake and filled my fever dreams with sparkling images.  I could never find it at the library again, nor at Hollywood Video or even early Netflix (once my father got the subscription service where you could order practically every DVD.)  It was a bit odd that it seemed to be so obscure, given that it starred old Hollywood legend Ingrid Bergman (and, although I initially forgot it, Marlene Dietrich.)  But even big stars make films that fall by the wayside in public memory, and it seemed that this was one of them.  Google was no help, and at the time that was that.
I didn’t see the film again until I was watching Turner Classic Movies at my grandparents’ house.  I loved watching that channel with them while filling out the crossword puzzle that came in their little TCM catalogue (all of it based on movie trivia, the only kind of crossword puzzle I’ve ever been any good at.)  I recognized a certain scene where Bergman stood on a balcony, looking sadly at the moon.  Her face had an expression of unutterable melancholy, and the crescent moon reflected in each of her eyes, giving the impression of two moons in one sky.  I had very little time to catch up on what I’d missed before we had to go meet my cousins at the local Italian restaurant.  I knew logically that the movie would be long over by the time we returned, but I turned on the channel anyway.  Of course it had moved on to the lesser known Alfred Hitchcock film Stage Fright, but then I heard Marlene Dietrich sing before I could reach the remote to turn the tv off in disappointment.  I knew that I had heard her sing before, and I knew it had been in The King.
Dietrich’s singing often comes across as somewhat campy today, with its Rs pronounced as Ws and it’s up-and-down tone.  Madeline Kahn parodied it brilliantly in Blazing Saddles, such that it was a bit of a disappointment when I finally saw Dietrich’s western Destry Rides Again and found it to be lifeless and inconsistent next to the parody.  Still, we remember her voice for a reason, and when I remembered it that night, I knew that its sardonic loneliness had rung through The King and made me shiver in my dreams.
The TCM schedule didn’t list The King in its time slot, but something else.  If I had taken down the name, maybe it would have helped me find it.  Sometimes the same movie runs under multiple names.
I didn’t see the film all the way through for many years, after I graduated college.  I had found a web page that listed public domain film noir, including one called The Masked Guest.  The website described it as a costume noir, and I curiously clicked on the link.  Once I took in the credits running on the youtube window, my eyes grew wide and I did not move from my place on the bed until the movie had run its course.
The credits did indeed list it as The Masked Guest, but I recognized the strange repeating design on the title cards.  They told me that in addition to starring Dietrich and Bergman, it was directed by Fritz Lang, and a character called The King was credited to “???”  (I hadn’t seen that kind of credit since the first Karloff Frankenstein.)  When the King finally appears on screen, though, it is unmistakably Orson Welles’s voice that booms out from behind his elaborate costume.
Here are the things I understand about The King, or The Masked Guest, or The Man in Yellow, or any other title I’ve found for it on public domain archive searches.  Dietrich and Bergman play princesses named Cassilda and Camilla, respectively.  Though Dietrich’s accent is German and Bergman’s is Swedish, they blend together to give the film the impression of being set somewhere on the map that I can’t quite find.  The scenery and camera angles are very Freudian, with a great deal of archways and pillars.
The first act of The King involves frankly dull romantic plotlines, and the only thing that really saved it was the feeling that the suitors were supposed to be insipid, a suspicion lended credence by the fact that the love interests were listed so low on the credits.  Dietrich is the scandalous sister and Bergman is the responsible one, though each takes on aspects of the other as the film goes on.  Dietrich sings her song at a party, dressed in a fake 17th century gown and leaning against a piano.  Although just a moment ago she had been laughing and joking with her gentleman friends, her song takes an abruptly serious tone (not seductive, not sentimental) as she tells the story of a city lost to time and memory.  Bergman slips away from the party and onto the balcony, where we see that wonderful shot of the moon in her eyes.  Is she mourning?  Is she longing?
Dietrich cuts off the song by abruptly screaming “Not on us, King!  Not on us!”  She flees the party weeping and shaking, and from there on the film goes mad.
Though uncommon, it is not unknown for movies to switch between black and white and color, done most famously in The Wizard of Oz.  The film The King recalls here is the silent Phantom of the Opera, which had a masqued ball scene tinted in shades of red and green that tried to provide a whole spectrum of color.  The effect is even odder in the masqued ball scene in The King- the only color that appears is yellow, highlighting things like candlelight, Dietrich’s hair, a passing gown, a vase of tulips.  It also highlights one particular masked figure, whose expressionless mask was decorated with a black pattern against a sickening yellow canvas- the same pattern I had seen in the opening credits.  The color of his costume causes him to stand out from the crown even when he is far off in the background, just one head among many others.  It must have taken long and painstaking hours of work to color in every frame.
Dietrich still seems broken up days after her song, though Bergman tries to coax her into joining the dance.  Finally, at midnight, Dietrich goes out to face the party, but only to demand that every guest remove their mask.  The yellow man with a voice that once warned America about a Martian invasion tells her that he wears no mask.  Bergman reacts with disbelief, but Dietrich starts laughing like a woman unhinged.  As she laughs, the yellow hue seeps out of the King’s clothing and face- if that really is his face- and begins to color the entire ballroom crowd.  I think that what follows is bloodshed, but if there is any carnage (doubtful under the Production Code censorship), the blood must be tainted yellow and splashed across the camera like daubs of paint.  Dietrich’s laughing face is doubled and tripled on screen until it dissipates, but even when it has faded offscreen, it feels as if her ghost continues to watch the proceedings.  
By the end of the scene (filled with German Expressionist camera angles and mad violin screeching), only Bergman remains alive, cowering behind a grandfather clock.  It does not hide her for long.  The King steps towards her and extends his hand.  Reluctantly, but with a fatalistic expression, Bergman takes his hand.  They walk away together hand in hand.  The screen shifts back into black and white, and then the credits roll before we can get a good look at all the bodies in the scene.  The credits say it was based on a play called The King in Yellow, although Raymond Chandler of all people apparently had a hand in the screenplay.
As I said, that’s what I think I understand.  It’s an oddly experimental art film for the era, and it may be awaiting rediscovery by the film festival crowd.  I feel as if I alone know about it, though that obviously isn’t true.  It is my little secret; I tell myself that my husband doesn’t need me to show it to him, it would be too odd for his taste.  I’ve rewatched it many times, even if it seems like each time I search for it I have to find a different video platform or torrent.  Naturally, no subscription site has it available.  Maybe I am the last person who will ever watch it.  Maybe no one will ever think to look for it again after me, and it will be completely forgotten.
When I was hospitalized, they let me use my laptop at night before I went to sleep (no power cord, though, in case I tried to hang myself.)  I found a youtube link for The Man in Yellow, and I watched it every night.  It wasn’t a soothing sort of movie, but having it in my mind all day and then watching it in the evening allowed me to think as opposed to crying endlessly while the other patients shot me awkward looks.  I clutched the childhood stuffed animals my mother brought me when she visited, and I always held them extra tight when the masquerade scene started.
I watched the movie when I had to move away from my beloved San Francisco.  I watched the movie when I lost the last of my grandparents.  I watched the movie when a doctor unwisely took me off my medication and I couldn’t manage to eat for a month.  I watched the movie when the whole world got sick and we all locked ourselves away from each other.  I don’t mind that I don’t entirely know what it means.  I don’t mind the nightmares.  In the hospital they kept telling us about mindfulness exercises, and maybe the fact that I can focus on every aspect of the film so closely that all else falls away is the reason I keep coming back to it.  I’m being mindful.  I’m not letting any stray thoughts invade my head.  I’m just watching and waiting for the next beat of every scene, leading inexorably to that yellow-stained bloodbath.
Streaming media doesn’t last forever, and each time I find The King, I worry that it will be the last time I ever can find it.  My efforts to download it have so far been unsuccessful, odd considering that it is in the public domain.
When I watch The King, I am once again a child in my bedroom being cared for in the throes of agonizing sickness.  I am once again sitting on the couch with my grandparents in front of the tv, both of them alive and lucid again.  I am once again in the hospital, all alone except for my stuffed animals and the staff trying to keep me alive.  The film reflects in my eyes like the crescent moon in Ingrid Bergman’s gaze.  It sings to me.
I am determined to find a way to obtain The King under any name so that I never have to worry about losing it.  During some of the worst times in my life, it is the only thing that has kept me sane.
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volturiwolf · 4 years ago
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The Volturi Princess - A Felix Volturi x fem!Reader Story (part 1)
A/N: This is the first Volturi- and Twilight-related story I ever started writing and it is quite long and elaborated/complex, as I tend to overanalyze in many parts. I have wrote a few parts until now and I'll be uploading them in the future. I have been quite emotional throughout writing it, trying to understand the reader's point of view.
A/N 2: I'm sorry if something doesn't make sense. English is not my first language. I also include Italian through the story, with translation, but I'm not a native or a speaker, so I'd like to apologize in advance to those who speak Italian. Enjoy :)
A/N 3: According to "The Amagi" on Youtube, Felix was born in 250 BC (their thumbnail), so I used that in my story.
No of Words: about 5347
Mentions of: Abandonment, Abortion, Anxiety, Blood, Bruises, Coma/Comatosed State, Death Emotional Abuse, Emotional and Physical Pain, Gaslighting, Greece/Greek Language - with translation, Heartbreak, Italian Language - with translation, Manipulation, Murder, Pain, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy, Suffering, Suicide/Suicidal Thoughts, Swear Language, Throwing Up/Puking, Witches/Wizards/Witchcraft
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My heart felt heavy. I may have just escaped the cruelest vampire of all, but I also ran away from the love of my life, my mate, the only person who could fully understand me in this world. I asked him to run away with me, but, although our bond was strong, he felt obliged to stay loyal to his master, his creator. I drove as fast as I could, away from the sunny Volterra, and away from him.
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(Y/N) grew up quite privileged, in Vampire terms. Being born into the Volturi coven was something many vampires could only dream about. (Y/N) was abandoned by her parents when she was a baby, but Aro, one of the three Volturi leaders, took her under his protection, and offered her more things than she could ever have imagined. After all, she was his only biological granddaughter, the “Volturi princess”, an heiress to the throne; her mother lost that “privilege” when she met and fell in love with a wizard.
(Y/N)’s mother soon got pregnant with her, and then later turned her husband into a vampire to help her with her pregnancy, and stay together forever. However, (Y/N)’s parents couldn’t raise her because they wanted to run free and careless, not commit to anything permanent, so Aro took over and raised his granddaughter with the highest honors and privileges, “as a princess should be raised”.
(Y/N) was a mix of Vampire, Witch and Human, due to the grandmother, Sulpicia, being human when Aro found her; Sulpicia later fell pregnant with (Y/N)’s mother, and Aro transformed her to vampire, as he had planned all along. Aro raised (Y/N) according to his own rules and morals, teaching her how to kill humans to feed from, how to attack and slip away from her opponents, how to lead other vampires, and most importantly, how to keep her identity and existence a secret, not only to humans, but other non-Volturi vampires as well. No one could know that there was a possibility of a vampire having a child with a human, and that the child could be effectively controlled and raised as a regular vampire.
As (Y/N) grew older and older, reaching the human age of 25 within 7 years of her birth, Aro would spend more and more time with her, examining and studying her possibilities and her potential powers’ development. (Y/N) grew up to be extremely strong and fast, an excellent tracker with great intelligence and understanding of the world around her. However, Aro could not risk sending her to “Volturi duties”. She was his hope for a stronger coven; with (Y/N) in the throne, Aro felt like he could conquer the vampire world with ease.
That’s why he was always searching for the best guards he could find, to protect the coven and do his work instead of himself, Caius, or (Y/N). He couldn’t rely on Marcus, as he proved to be too emotional since Didyme died, but was still valuable for his plan. Caius, on the other hand, although powerless, was far more sadistic and “diligent” in following vampire rules, and (Y/N)... (Y/N) was just too obedient, following every order Aro gave her - a strong asset for the Volturi.
Aro was changing guards and trackers quite easily, disposing them when they were no longer needed or when he found better ones. He needed talented and strong vampires to serve the coven and do their work.
Chelsea was the very first vampire Aro created solely to serve the Volturi, after recognizing her potential when she was human. Chelsea’s gift of relationship manipulation was truly useful in bringing new vampires into the coven and was used thousands of times during Volturi's reign. It could also easily dispose of them, making their bonds with other vampires break at will; those vampires were isolated by the other vampires and then killed - Aro couldn’t risk letting them get away knowing the Volturi’s secrets and life.
About 100 years later, Corin joined the Volturi, just a couple decades after (Y/N)’s birth. Corin’s gift of addictive contentment was the one which kept Marcus in the Volturi after Didyme’s death - along with Chelsea’s to make him committed to Aro’s greater plans, and was also used on Sulpicia, Athenadora and any other vampire in the Volturi guard to keep them satisfied being in the Volturi. Under Aro’s instructions, Corin was keeping Chelsea content with being in the Volturi, and Chelsea was keeping Corin loyal to them, each of them using their gifts against each other, without their knowledge.
Sometime between 230 and 220 BC, while travelling in Rome, searching for additional vampires to add to the coven, Aro supposedly met a young, strong and ambitious fighter, who wished to become a gladiator one day, named Felix. Felix did not only look, but also was physically capable of fighting even with beasts, during his short time as a fighter, way before the Colosseum was built. Born into a poor family, his strength was his only way of making money, and becoming a gladiator was his only way out of poverty, a way to provide for both his family and himself.
When his family was almost imprisoned by Roman army officers for outstanding debts, Felix was forced to make a deal with them to fight, in whatever they ordered him to. Fighting turned out to be the only way for Felix to deal with his emotions and rage towards people in power. When Aro approached Felix, he was promised a good life, where he wouldn’t have to worry about surviving another day. Felix did not seem willing enough, not being fond of the idea of serving people in power, who he so despised.
Luckily for Aro, Chelsea was the one who “convinced” Felix to join the Volturi guard, with Aro changing him afterwards. Unlike previous guards, Felix showed impeccable strength, speed and talent towards both dodging and initiating attacks, eventually making him a permanent member in the Volturi Guard, along with Chelsea and Corin.
Felix was assigned as the leading guard for the three kings’ protection, this role extending to the protection of their two wives and (Y/N); though Aro knew that, if it came to anyone attacking his granddaughter, she would be able to handle it by herself. However, he still wanted to make sure that she was safe and that Aro would do anything to protect her.
For about a couple millennias, (Y/N) was content with her situation, being the “Volturi princess” and all that. Besides, having Felix in the Volturi was another reason to stay in the coven, apart from staying loyal and true to Aro for taking her in, when she was abandoned.
Every time Felix looked into her eyes, she felt her whole body burn - though, it wasn’t a feeling of suffering, rather a feeling of longing, waiting for something to happen so badly that her body couldn’t control itself. Although she was partially a vampire, (Y/N) would feel like she couldn’t breathe, like her legs were ready to give up on her, like she wanted to grab Felix and never let go.
Felix, although not admitting it even to himself, would feel the same way, but he knew that his position would not allow him to approach (Y/N) in such a way. He was just a guard - although he was the strongest of them all, and she was the Volturi princess, one of his masters, whom he was only allowed to approach in order to protect. He didn’t want Aro to know he saw his granddaughter like that; it could cost him his position in the guard, or even his life. So, he kept these feelings deep within him, not allowing them to resurface, or act upon them.
However, every time these two existed at the same place, the invisible sparks between them would fly left and right. And only one vampire was able to see them. One who hadn’t felt these sparks in centuries.
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(Y/N)’s POV:
I yawned loudly as I woke from a long, much needed sleep. I was the only vampire around who was able to sleep, mostly due to my non-vampire natures. I didn't really need to sleep on a regular basis, but when I did, I could literally sleep 3 days straight and nobody would be able to wake me up. “For my own protection”, as Aro said, I would always have at least two guards outside of my room’s door, in case anything happened while I was sleeping. Like what could even happen? My room was at the furthest side of this huge castle. I’m pretty sure that if there ever was an attack against the Volturi, it would most probably have been dealt with immediately, and the attacker wouldn’t make it anywhere near my room.
I felt the warm sun on my skin, slightly glowing and sparkling beautifully. My eyes, mostly (Y/E/C) with a golden ring around the pupil, could easily adjust to the light. Unlike the other vampires, I could easily live among humans; I could sleep, eat human food, my skin not being as sparkly as others, and I could control my thirst far better than others.
Since Jane and Alec joined the coven, Aro would show an immense interest in them and their skills, helping them train daily and develop their powers further, eventually forgetting about me. I would spend more and more days away from the castle, “protected” by my anonymity, getting to know humans more and more. The longer I was observing them, the more they would trigger my interest in them. They could feel true emotions, real pain, real hurt, real love. They had their families, they received an unconditional love that I could never have.
Unbeknownst to Aro or anyone else for that matter, I have started developing new powers, similar to the other vampires in the Volturi coven or anyone else outside of it. I have also started noticing that I may have an immunity towards others’ talents, feeling that neither Corin’s addictive contentment made me satisfied with being in the Volturi, nor Chelsea’s relationship manipulation could keep me loyal to Aro anymore. If it weren’t for Felix, or Demetri and the Twins, who have all become my best friends by now, I would have probably left.
A vampire named Carlisle Cullen had visited the Volturi and stayed with us for a while, about 100 years ago. He saw the way the Volturi treated humans like they were nothing, and how they were as cruel as to kill other vampires, with the excuse that they were exposing our kind with the way they lived. Entire covens had been wiped out due to such excuses, a way to eliminate potential enemies from becoming too powerful and find as many talented vampires as possible and force them to join the Volturi.
Carlisle was talking about a new way of life, where vampires wouldn’t have to kill humans to survive, a life where vampires and humans could live in peace, without harming each other. He was insisting that vampires could survive on animal blood just as efficiently as with human blood; that animal blood would not make them weaker, and that it would be a much more ethical and sustainable way to feed.
Of course, Aro and Caius were the first ones to mock his proposition, clearly not caring about humans’ feelings and pain. Marcus did not budge at all, his heartache making him indifferent to anything around him. But I was growing more and more interested in this alternative way of life; I was, after all, feeding on human food already, so that I was feeding on human blood as little as I could.
It was a few years after Carlisle left Volterra that Eleazar joined the Volturi. Aro forced him to join after finding out he could detect if someone had any special ability. Aro considered his gift useful in identifying if any of his enemies had any special power when in battles, or when he sent Eleazar around the world to recruit talented vampires.
Eleazar was clearly not liking the way the Volturi forced their ways and wants on others, and how they could take advantage of others for their own benefit. I could just sense that he was displeased and was forcing himself to stay in the coven, one, due to Corin’s and Chelsea’s gifts, and two, out of fear of what could happen to him and his mate, Carmen.
Carmen, a vampire from Spain, like Eleazar, met with Eleazar while he was a guard here, they fell in love, and eventually, Eleazar decided to leave the Volturi and run away with Carmen. Aro decided that he did not care about him and his gift as much as others’, so he let him go unharmed, “blessing” them for safe travels.
Just a few days before he left, I consulted him on my own powers. Though a lower member of the guard, Eleazar had his own room, a decent place to stay, and spend his endless hours in. I knocked slightly on the door.
“Come in”, a calm voice was heard. I opened the door and came into his room. Carmen was sitting on the edge of their bed and Eleazar was reading a book on his desk. They both smiled sweetly. I just felt and knew they were too nice to fit anywhere in here, among the cruel and strict Volturi.
“(Y/N)! So nice to see you!”Carmen exclaimed and stood to hug me. The second we hugged I started seeing parts of her life in Spain, the calm waters of Catalunya, the vast vineyards where she would spend the early years of her life… I quickly detached myself from her embrace. I just couldn’t invade her privacy like that. She and Eleazar both looked at me worried, as if I had offended them.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t let you “show” me your whole life like that!” I looked at Carmen apologetically.
“(Y/N), you saw Carmen’s life?” Eleazar continued, intrigued by my words.
“That’s why I came to talk to you. I..I feel like I’ve been developing a gift, or a few gifts, to be completely honest. And I feel like.. like I have a specific power one day, and another power the next!” I stated frantically.
It was the first time I have openly talked about my powers to anyone, and I was shaking just by the words that came out of my mouth. Eleazar did not say anything, he just stood there for a few minutes, I supposed “examining” me, as if a doctor checking on a patient.
“Remarkable.” He said calmly. He looked at his mate with excitement, as if he just discovered a lost treasure. “(Y/N) has one of the most remarkable gifts I have ever seen.” He then turned to me. “You, (Y/N), are able to copy anyone else’s gifts and keep them as your own. You don’t even have to be in contact with them. Just by meeting someone, you can obtain their powers. I have never met anyone like that. You also seem to have obtained immunity to others’ powers, kind of like a shield. I have met such vampires before. From the stories Aro has been telling, your mother was like that. It is likely that you copied that gift for her. Such vampires are extremely useful to themselves or even others, in battles. Like themselves, you can use your gift to protect others from others’ powers, beside yourself.”
That came too sudden to my ears. I have assumed that I may have at least one power, but I didn’t realise I could copy others’ powers. That is why I was showing signs of Aro’s power!
“How can I train my powers? Eleazar! Carmen! You have to help me!”
“As you know, we will be leaving soon. I don’t know if there will be enough time to train you.”
“It’s okay. We will train as much as you want. Please, Eleazar! Please, Carmen!” I started begging them. As if they were hypnotized, they quickly looked at each other and agreed to help me.
The next few days, before Eleazar and Carmen’s departure, included intense training, far away from Volterra, deep in the woods, where no human could interrupt us. I couldn’t say the same for vampires, but I hoped nobody would cross paths with us. Eleazar and Carmen helped me develop my self-control and self-awareness, concentrating through the deepest parts of my mind, resurfacing my shield and expanding it beyond my existence. I started to have control over it, as if it was an actual solid substance, a veil floating around me towards any direction I ordered it to go.
After Eleazar and Carmen left, I started travelling the world more, trying to copy as many powers as I could come across with, while also training my shield. My excitement for the endless possibilities was what kept me going - kind of when Aro would add another talented vampire to his Guard. His Guard. Felix. I wonder how he was. I hadn’t seen him in a while. I wondered if he thought of me like I thought of him.
After travelling pretty much anywhere I could reach, I eventually went back to where it all started: I went to Greece. Aro met Sulpicia here, apparently my mom met my dad here. Maybe I could find out, understand why they left me. I have never met them, but I felt as if my tracking skills could detect them through my own existence.
I started travelling through the country, hoping that they stayed here or, at least, that they’re alive. I spent about 2 or 3 years in Greece, trying to take in every different place, while also avoiding the battles that seemed to take place in every other corner. I was feeding off animals mainly, mostly when I couldn’t find any other human food. I was washing myself in rivers, streams, whatever I could find.
I was stopping by any village that seemed to be still standing, asking about the current situation. The Greek Revolution, which started a few years ago, seemed to still be going on. The Ottomans, who had been occupying Greece for almost 400 years, could not allow Greeks to turn against them and start claiming their rights within the Ottoman Empire.
Many Greeks I met and talked to, admitted that some of the Ottomans were actually being nice to them; it was only the Ottoman government ordering their armies to execute massive massacres against Greeks, and after all this time, a few Greeks started gathering up and planning a revolution, away from Greece, in fear of being caught. They started getting organized and finding possible allies to help them with the Revolution; they just couldn’t risk getting caught within the country that they were hoping the independent Greece could become. The battles were becoming more and more intense, both on the mainland, as well as on the islands.
I started looking for answers, anything that could suggest that my parents were still alive and somewhere in Greece. To my surprise, I crossed paths with many Greek nomad vampires all over the country. They were also fighting against either Ottoman vampires or each other for territorial claims; however, they all talked me out of travelling north, towards Macedonia. The region had started being reclaimed back by Greek humans, but vampires were also seeing the potential for the area and they fought against each other for the land.
All of the nomads I encountered were talking about some of the most vicious vampires claiming the land, their enemies being literally slaughtered and burned to set an example for other vampires to back off their territory. I was intrigued, and I knew that, most probably, I would be able to deal with them or flee before they got to me.
So, I started travelling north, through the woods and mountains, in order to avoid any possible battle between humans, though many of them seemed to hide in the mountains, preparing for their battles. Macedonia was a quite big and vast region, so I had to travel quite a few days and search every possible corner.
I know I shouldn’t have done this, but I was feeling exhausted from all the searching. I haven’t fed in quite some time, and my throat was burning by the familiar need for blood. I haven’t seen any animals all these days, and I was wondering if they were gone or hiding.
Sadly, I came across a human. He seemed to be wounded, probably during a battle, his blood gushing out of his body. I couldn’t help myself, when I breathed in the smell, the burning sensation becoming unbearable. I thought of approaching him slowly, so as not to scare him, offering to help him, but deep down I just wanted to feed off of him.
“Γειά! Συγνώμη αν σε τρόμαξα. Σε είδα από μακριά. Μπορώ να σε βοηθήσω με κάποιο τρόπο; (Hey! Sorry if I scared you. I saw you from afar. Can I help you in any way?)” I offered calmly.
The man was trying to suppress his growls. I could sense his pain. I tried to help him stand on his feet, and then I saw all of his memories. He was in the army, fighting alongside Greeks against the Ottomans, in Macedonia, just outside of Thessaloniki. I didn’t even know I was so close to a city, let alone Thessaloniki.
He was trying to pass through the woods, when he came across what seemed to be two red-eyed vampires, one male and one female. They tried to attack him, but someone else managed to shoot him first, forcing the two vampires to run away. I don’t know how or why, these two felt familiar to me, I could feel that through his memories.
“Γειά! Μπορείς.. Μπορείς να πας στο κοντινότερο χωριό; Νομίζω.. Νομίζω ότι είδα κάτι στο δάσος, δε νομίζω ότι ήταν κάτι φυσιολογικό! Πρέπει.. Πρέπει να προειδοποιήσω τους άλλους! (Hey! Can.. Can you get me to the nearest village? I think.. I think I saw something in the woods, I don’t think it was something normal! I have.. I have to warn the others!)” He mumbled in between sharp shoots of pain.
“Με συγχωρείς πολύ! (I’m really sorry!)” I plead with guilty eyes. I put my hand in his wound, searching for the bullet, while he was consumed by pain. I took the bullet out of the wound, and quickly attached my lips on his skin, sucking the blood as fast as I could, biting deeply unintentionally. His screams were becoming louder and louder, so I covered his mouth with my hand, while trying to shut him up or break his jaw. A few seconds later, he stopped screaming, and I let his lifeless body fall, completely numb and drained out of blood.
I felt renewed, his blood travelling to every part of my body and giving me a new kind of strength that I haven’t felt in a while. I still felt guilty for killing him, but he was already wounded and I couldn’t risk him exposing our kind to others. I assumed that whoever found him - if anyone found him - would also assume that he died of blood loss, so I tried to position him in a realistic pose for that purpose, as best as I could. I left him there, and continued the search for my parents.
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I was running through the woods, trying to locate the two vampires from the guy’s memories. My mind was chaotic, I wasn’t thinking about something specific. I stopped in my tracks. What Aro taught me, and what I understood from Demetri’s tracking skills, is that you have to stop, take a breath and realize your position in the world. Then, you would be able to realize everything around you and find your targets. I have successfully found other vampires like that before, vampires who I have either met in person or smelled their scent, but I didn’t know if I could find someone through someone else’s memories of them.
I took a deep breath and tried to concentrate as best as I could, focusing on the smaller details of the guy’s memories of these vampires. I felt two vampires running on my west, about 10 kilometers away, and I ran after them. They were running fast, but I was way faster. Within a minute or two, I was running right behind their tracks. They must have realized that a stranger was following them, but, instead of running, they suddenly stopped. I stopped as well, and we were now facing each other.
The female had long, brunette, curly hair, and the male short, dark brown, straight hair; both of their hair looked shiny, healthy, and rich. They were of average height and their eyes were piercing red, as if they also fed quite recently. The female was exceptionally beautiful and enchanting; I could only compare her to Heidi’s exceptional beauty. The male looked quite stoic and austere, though still beautiful.
Both of them on defensive positions, waiting for me to attack. I wasn’t planning to move any further from my position; I was only waiting for their own reactions. I felt that kind of a burning sensation within me again, like a feeling buried deep inside me, trying to find an escape.
Suddenly, the male growled at me, flames springing out of his hands, and being thrown at me. I felt my heart fall out of my chest, fearing that this would be my end. As if my body reacted on its own, I felt my own shield extending out of my body, building a wall around me and protecting me from the male’s attack. My hands started burning and flames came out, ready to counterattack the male. The male looked at the female, dumbfounded by what he witnessed, still in a defensive position, but ready to attack again.
“I’M NOT HERE TO FIGHT YOU!” I shouted at both of them. “I’M JUST SEARCHING FOR SOMEONE!”
The male shrinked back, the female following close by. “Who are you looking for? We haven’t seen you around. Who are you? Why are you here?” The male requested. His voice serious, but smooth at the same time; a voice I could only describe as the warm earth below their bare feet.
“No, I’m not. I come from Italy, though I think I was born around here. My name is (Y/N), I’m looking for my parents. I don’t quite remember what they look like, but I’m pretty sure that they lived around here. They abandoned me when I was a baby.”
“This has been our territory for almost 3 millennials! We would have known if any humans abandoned their offspring around here!” The female exclaimed, as if she didn’t believe a word I said. I didn’t want to tell them the whole story, but I had to show them that I didn’t mean to fight in any way.
“I never said they were humans. My mother was actually sort of a vampire, like you.”
The female started letting her guards down. “What do you mean sort of? I’ve never heard of a “sort of vampire” before!” She continued doubtfully.
“Believe me or don’t, my mother was born half vampire, half human. My dad wasn’t even a vampire before she met him. He wasn’t even human to be honest.” My eyes started stinging slightly. I could have had a good, happy life if they didn’t abandon me. I wouldn’t have to grow up with Aro.
“You said you were from Italy.” I nodded at the male, as he continued. “You never said where exactly.”
I wasn’t sure if I should tell them my real origin; I wouldn’t like them to know I was a Volturi, but I knew I needed help to find my parents. If they were actually here as long as they say, they might have known or met my parents at some point.
“Volterra. I was born here, in Greece, like my mother, but grew up in Volterra with my grandparents.” I looked down, kind of scared, kind of anxious, waiting for their next move.
The female gasped. “Are you a Volturi?!” I looked at her, straight in the eyes, swallowed, and nodded. “I know the Volturi. Who are your grandparents?”
“Aro and Sulpicia.” I answered so quietly that, if they weren’t vampires, they wouldn’t have heard me, my voice trembling slightly.
The female suddenly fell on her knees, the male wrapping his arms around her, comforting her. I didn’t know what was going on. Did I say something wrong? Were they scared? The sheer mention of the Volturi would scare a lot of vampires, but I thought that maybe these two seemed strong enough to deal with them.
The female started sobbing, no tears coming out of her red eyes, her body shaking. I felt something within me break. I felt that I didn’t want to upset them, that’s why I was hesitant in telling them who I really was. The male looked at me, pain in his eyes. I saw a familiar look. I saw me in his eyes, what I looked at in my mirror anytime I was thinking about my parents, or, sometimes, when I thought of Felix.
“Are you a half witch?” The male asked quietly. Something snapped in me. How would he know that?
“I swear, I didn’t do anything to your mate! I DIDN’T!” I shouted at the male. I didn’t want him to think that I would hurt his mate, or himself.
“I know you wouldn’t. It’s just..” He looked at his mate who had stopped sobbing, but was still down on her knees, unable to stand up. “..my mate is Aro and Sulpicia Volturi’s only daughter.”
My body tensed and shivered. If that woman is the only daughter Aro and Sulpicia ever had...could that mean..?
I took a few steps back. “AM I YOUR DAUGHTER? ARE YOU MY PARENTS?” I looked at them in disbelief.
Those were the people who abandoned me! That let me grow parentless, under Aro’s rules and directions! I was breathing heavily, in between sobs. I didn’t even realize that I set my whole body ablaze, until both vampires looked at me shocked. I didn’t feel any pain, but I couldn’t stop the flames licking my body, and in my frantic state, I started panicking even more.
The male started approaching me slowly, trying to not scare me away. “Shush, shush. You’re okay. You’re doing okay. I know how it feels at first. You’re experiencing some aspects of the life as a witch. It’s okay. Close your eyes and picture the flames in your head.” I closed my eyes and tried concentrating on the flames. “Now, imagine them burning out, becoming smaller and weaker.” I focused on the flames, imagining them weakening. After a few minutes, I felt them getting smaller and smaller, and finally disappearing. I opened my eyes slowly.
The female was standing next to the male, watching me carefully. In a quick motion, she pulled me and embraced me, stroking my hair lightly. I breathed in her scent, a mix of mountain flowers and the saltiness of the sea. Her touch was soft, and filled me up with what felt like a thousand different emotions.
But, I mostly felt safe. It was the first time in my life that I actually felt this safe. And whole. I felt like I actually belonged somewhere. I hugged her back. Tears started spilling from my eyes. That was my mom! That was actually my mom! After all this time, we were finally together. I felt the male, my dad, hugging both of us, and in that moment, I felt my legs giving up on me, and I finally fell into a long sleep.
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jaz-norman · 2 years ago
Text
Down the Rabbit-Hole
Jervis only recovered when his nose became a fountain of blood. The Joker once told Batman that starting with the head was the wrong way to start an interrogation, the victim remains confused, but that was a pure act of violence. It was a quick movement, but not as quickly as Jervis raised his face to look over his shoulder so disoriented and frightened. When he succeeded, trembling and with a hand to his nose gushing, he did not find anyone behind him, or rather he found many people behind him looking at him at a distance of a few meters, leaving around the table, which had just met his face, a circle of emptiness. From this he deduced at least three things:
Whoever did it was moderately strong; and that’s bad.
That was fast enough to hit a person and run away in the time it took a person to react; very bad.
This person had struck him and subsequently camouflaged himself with the crowd who had not reacted further, effectively hiding this person; dangerously ill.
As already explained, the blow to the head was destabilizing and while the hatter was thinking about all these things, he didn’t even have time to be scared of it because he fainted falling backwards. No one rushed to help him, and even those who would (very few) did not. Something had changed and Jervis had the first true taste of what is meant by: suffering for love.
When Jervis woke up he found himself in a cell; apparently the guards, after about ten minutes, noticed the prisoner passed out on the ground and dragged him to the infirmary to patch him up. Jervis knew for a fact that he had woken up worse than that, and yet knowing it was no consolation. The first thing he did was view the room and his multiple deductive "abilities" made him understand, after several minutes of observation, that he was no longer in his cell. He obviously did not understand it by the furniture, which was uniform for all the cells, nor by the lack of his goods, because it was not allowed to own them. But he understood it from a simple farmer, there was a man there with him who was not there before. Not just anyone, but one of those who if there was a fan list of the worst criminals in Gotham would be among the first places, one of those names quarreled for the fantasycrimine of the "crazy"  A.A., one of those who more than anyone had seen their blood on the hands of Batman. Jonathan Crane, also known as Scarecrow. One of the oldest and most heinous criminals of the Red King was locked up with him. For Jervis it is very difficult to hide what he thinks or feels, God had given him a super expressive face. So Jonathan could immediately compose the discomfort in the features of his new roommate, and being the King of fear, it didn’t take long to think about how to take advantage of the situation.
The Terror Man glued his eyes to Jervis' as he rose from his cot to approach Wonderland’s madman number one. These, on the other hand, his was still shocked and while you could read only fear in his look, inside that blue sea that were his eyes swam to keep himself afloat many other emotions. And that’s always been the problem with Jervis. Unlike sociopaths who commonly do not show no signs of remorse or empathy but only controlled, manipulative and aseptic attitudes, he was a river full of different emotions that he could never direct into the right sea. His mind seemed like a labyrinth of suggestions that followed one another with an assiduous and spasmodic observation of something, like when trying to take an egg from a shelf that gets higher and higher. Then Jervis stood still but inwardly not motionless as Jonathan sat in front of him, continuing to maintain eye contact. It was the first time that Jervis was so close to a supervillain, and although the minutes passed, after the initial shock, nothing else broke the Hatter’s face except calm. The Scarecrow could not explain why, it intrigued him more, until he decided to ask him some questions. "How are you?" The question was the simplest one he could think of because even asking someone in shock for their name (especially someone confused about their identity as Jervis) could be a very difficult thing. Despite the simplicity, Jervis took a while to respond.
"You know well that you are locked up here, do you know what place it is? A psychiatric asylum. It seems that calling it kindergarten or hospital can make the place more welcoming and less claustrophobic, but it is not so. On television it looks very different..." And Jervis, with his scramble, I continue with this stream of words impregnated with no meaning or information for a couple of minutes in abundance, until Jonathan decided to shut him up. Normally, to allow a person to speak in a conversation it is necessary to silence the person who, with his voice, pollutes the delicate auditory system of all the more. Some may find reading or listening to a particularly long and meaningless and/or uninterrupted sentence stimulating, pleasurable or even attractive and exciting for the purpose of the plot, unable to catch their breath without risking missing punctuation marks. But they don’t include Jonathan Crane, much less Scarecrow. As we said, interrupting into the speech would be what would happen in a normal situation with normal people, but A.A. is not one of those situations and Jonathan was, so he cut the flow from the source. He took Jervis’s neck and pushed it against the floor of the cell with a force that the Mad Hatter would never have expected from a man with such a thin frame. His collier-like hands on his neck did their duty and Jervis could not emit a little air to talk, let alone breathe. "Learn to answer concisely and correctly".
But he dared not make remorse for this colourful reception, nor did he seem to hold a grudge. After a couple of minutes of silence in which Jonathan concluded that Jervis had learned his lesson, he picked up where he left off with the questions. "So, how are you?" There were no answers from the correct or wrong content but only multiple answers exposed in the correct form. Jonathan didn’t say this explicitly, but Jervis saw it in the scarecrow’s eyes. "I could be much better, but I’m here and I’m alive, I guess it’s a milestone." The Hatter almost seemed to congratulate himself for making it that far, ignoring the nose and the near death experience of a few minutes ago. The scarecrow seemed satisfied with the answer, but it might not have been so, I simply wanted it to be so. And that was the line of thought that made Jonathan worry. He was in a situation of advantage, he could literally do what he wanted to this man: he could destroy him psychologically, break a few fingers and with a little patience he could also remove all his teeth, one at a time. He could torture or kill him for all that mattered, no one would expect anything else from him. All except this man who, despite seeming to know him already of fame given the initial reaction, seemed not to have a real fear. Jervis looked at him with concern mixed with something he could define with a word: waiting.
But not the spasmodic wait but more resigned, he was not afraid of Jonathan, but you could see that he was nervous not to know what would happen soon. And as similar as they were on the spectrum of feelings anxiety and fear are not the same thing. So a little curious and a little annoyed, he just got up and said, "I’m glad to hear you say it". And in doing so, he lay on his cot again. Jervis was amazed and followed the example of his new roommate. Lying down he also thought, he did not know well what had happened, but since this experience did not lead to anything too negative he pointed to it as a new achievement. For Jonathan it was not easy to fall asleep and he imagined that now even for his partner it would not be automatic to do it. Not even time to finish this thought that the indistinct sound of snoring, symptom of a classic sleep apnea, invaded his auditory pavilions. Jonathan initially struggled to believe it, but soon after a smile appeared on his face; he had found a new friend to have fun with and play the game of darkness that makes  peek-a-boo
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