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sincetheducksleft · 5 months ago

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S3E3 "Fortunate Son": The past alive in the present

This episode invites us to look back at Tony's childhood, and just as much to look back at our own experience of Tony as viewers of the show. The pilot episode and the inciting event of the whole series drive Tony's realization, which also reminds us, the viewers, that this show is just a snapshot of Tony's life. We are only given access to his past to the extent that it is incarnate in his present. But it is vividly incarnate in his present.

This is one of those Sopranos episodes that changes our perspective not just on everything that comes after it, but much of what came before.

Looking back just a little, to S2E6 "The Happy Wanderer", Tony's exploitation of Davey Scatino's gambling addiction takes on a totally new meaning in light of his experience with his father. Johnny cut off Satriale's finger over a gambling debt, and then rationalized it to Tony by suggesting that an unpaid debt devalues a person more than indulging in violence. That Satriale may be a nice man, but he put himself in this situation. Exactly the justification Tony makes about Davey.

(It's probably worth noting that Tony never cut off Davey's finger -- and while his interactions with AJ in this episode make a weird parallel to his interactions with Johnny, he still seems like a better father than Johnny did. He's passing down a softer punch.)

As a kid, Tony is vividly aware of the connection between violence and survival for his family -- that the hands that cut the meat for his baby sister are the same hands that cut off Satriale's finger -- and because he had no way to escape that world he could only cope by rationalizing it. He deeply internalized what his father told him, and it became possibly the first pillar of his rationalization of this lifestyle. And by extension it became a pillar holding up his entire world.

Looking back a little further, to S1E5 "College", we know Tony once attended college, too. When Tony was approximately Meadow's age he had another world, another life, available to him. But, just like Meadow, he ultimately rejected it and returned to the world that was familiar to him.*

Maybe he worked too hard to rationalize this world as a child and now it's the only place that feels rational to him, that he understands. Or maybe he feels too deeply twisted by it to belong anywhere else. Or maybe it's the same thing. And maybe the decision he made to remain a part of this world is something Tony will also be rationalizing for the rest of his life.

Regardless, the association between his panic attacks and meat -- between his deep dissatisfaction with his life and the point at which he started rationalizing this life to himself in order to survive within it -- tells us the process of reckoning with our past is never complete.

The wounds of childhood do not heal. Tony's past is alive in his present, and every choice he makes is at the end of a long line of choices that brought him to this moment. And Tony himself is at the end of a long line of fathers who created their child's world and then tried to push them out of it. And he's not the first child to return to it. And he also won't be last.

*I know Meadow doesn't drop out of college, what I mean is over the course of the show she becomes more of an apologist for organized crime, pursues a career defending white-collar criminals instead of oppressed minorities, and never really escapes the world she grew up in like Tony wanted her to. Arguably because one of the theses of this show is that intergenerational trauma is something like fate.

#also interesting is how heavily they underlined the fact that it's NOT just survival for Johnny/Livia #it's more like luxury or indulgence #which I suspect is so we won't start trying to rationalize this shit along with Tony #you could also maybe question whether trying to understand tony's perspective is a kind of rationalization of his behavior but I disagree #we're supposed to understand him not excuse him #I wonder if AJ or tony is the fortunate son in this episode?#AJ reflects the things tony hates the most about himself #also!! the scene where AJ says “I could never get in” I remember AJ saying he wants to go to those schools and tony saying he won't get in #AJ is learning to see himself the way tony sees him but tony doesn't even remember saying it bc frankly that's a parent for you #the sopranos #tony soprano #tony #s3e3 #fortunate son #longer rambles

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tigorrrr · 9 months ago

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𝗗𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗯𝗹𝗲 || prompt::sitting close together, touching each other

Ship(?): Diya x Baraka

Rated: mature

Warnings: blood, open wounds/holes, blood kink (?), off-canon, I'd say teratophilia but Diya can't be a licensed monsterfucker 'cuz Bara' ain’t a monster in her book 🤍

When the curtain of night fell upon the group, that's when the Lin Kuei Kunoichi got concerned about one of their teammates that have been gone for two hours or so in his tent.

She understood the importancy of privacy but she sometimes forgets not to cross over their shade because all she wishes to do is help. And after she had tested the water with where she stands with him, when he so vulnerably let her get close, she didn't want to get distanced unless she can't help it.

Diya had been fascinated by Baraka since she saw him, a member of their 'adventure' group and a fellow prison mate for a while.

He was tall - taller than her at least, with broad shoulders and a ruggedly handsome face - even though the half of it was scarred and deformed. Shriveled up to the raw muscle from his mouth up to his cheeks and enlarged talon-like teeth filled in the space.

Tarkat was and still is quite nasty, but it didn't stop her from feeling some kind of attraction towards Baraka.

His personality was a charm on its own. Baraka has years of life experience and it showed. Tarkat, no matter how contagious and how much the symptoms may be gruesome, he has excersised his mind and body around it. Adapting to the new him.

As a medic, Diya had to take care of her responsibilities first. Her Earthrealm friend Kenshi needed more attention than before, to his annoyance, and she understood it. Most men hate to be taken care of like the weakest child. All three of her older brothers made the same fuss about any kind of injury that she have had treated.

She treated Kenshi by the campfire while the others were preparing the tents. His world was suddenly plunged into eternal darkenss, Diya's heart ached for his. Being able to see all your life to suddenly lose your sight is the biggest torture than if one is born that way, althought they are equally as horrifying to lose one of the important senses.

"I- I'll be okay for now...!" Kenshi protested against her care, tipping his head to be somewhat out of reach. "This is not necessary!"

"Darling," Diya's sweet tone took a low dip to sound stern. "It will get infected if you won't let me clean it. I already gave you something for pain, if you worry it will hurt too much."

A low laughter turned both their heads Johnny's direction, the american strutted over to his buddy and added small twigs into the fire before sitting beside them. "I'd watch out Kenshi, just because you don't see the stern nurse's face doesn't mean it isn't there."

Kenshi would so love to roll his eyes along with Diya at his friend right now, but alas, he cannot.

When wet cotton dabbed underneath his eye he drew back his whole upper body with a hiss. It didn't hurt but it took Kenshi by suprise.

"Was für ein Kind..." Diya tutted softly, her hand already had a grasp on his coat's collar to thrust him back forward. Kenshi didn't fight the medic on duty but he wasn't pleased about it either.

Johnny's brows rose until it wrinkled his forehead. "Wait- wait. You speak English, Japanese, Chinese and now German?"

Diya smiled while working on cleaning her comrade's wounds without stabbing his already stabbed eyes since he's refusing to stay still. "And a little bit of French and Czech, too." she added, pride swelling her chest before she exhaled it to concentrate on her task.

Whistling was how the actor expressed his impression. He likes pretty girls with pretty, smart brains.

"I don't know how you do that. A few people can be multilingual."

"I guess I'm on top with very few, darling." Diya smirked impishly and the way she shot it at Johnny briefly had made him at a loss for words, he could only grin in return.

Kenshi's long exhale made his tiredness of being the third wheel between these two, he couldn't understand how he ended on that spot when those two have their back-and-forth. He grunted softly when he felt a familiar cloth press against the bridge of the nose before it was tied at the back of his head.

"Now, as your doctor, I order you to go rest." with gentle pats on her patient's shoulder Diya stood from her knees and cleaned her dirtied thighs.

When Johnny took his friend's offered hand to get Kenshi on his feet, he couldn't help but chuckle. "Shouldn't it be recommended?"

"Nope~" Diya cooed and put her hands against her lower back, watching Johnny lead his blind friend to the nearest tent.

She's glad Kenshi has someone in his time of need.

Diya decided to take a stroll around the camping ground as soon as everyone settled. As she wandered around, admiring the beauty of her surroundings, she stumbled upon Baraka's tent and remembered she'd wished to pay him a visit before retrieving to her own bedroll... with hope that she would lay in someone else's that night instead.

The unsureness of how to approach didn't stop her from nearing the current residence for tonight of Baraka's.

Her hand stalled in the air as soon as it gripped the sheet when pained, growly grunts was what she heard coming from inside. Diya strained her ears to hear more, but the longer she waited the more her suspicion had her tip her toes in the cold water of anxiety.

Curiosity finally getting the best of her, she quietly lifted the sheet and she peeked inside.

What she saw made her heart skip a beat and then jump in her throat at the same time.

Baraka was standing in the middle of the tent with his side view profile facing the entrance, bloodied and sweaty, equally as bloody spikes with pieces of meat and skin at his feet, his face contorted in pain.

Then, Diya could hear the squelching of raw muscle tissue and skin, as he began to tear something from his forearm.

A sickly crunch followed and another small boney apex hit the ground with the rest of the spikes. Because Baraka had to go deep for this little spike, it was painful and he epressed it by repressed, throaty growls.

Diya gasped, a little delayed because of her stupor but the thud grounded her, the sharp inhale that came from her lips was barely audible, her widened eyes furrowed and scrunched in concern.

As she stood there, frozen in shock, Baraka's eyes met hers when he turned to the nearly silent sound of breathing. The pain and determination in his eyes was replaced with a hint of embarrassment.

In that moment, Diya realized that she was not supposed to see this, neither were others. Baraka wanted time for himself to let his guard down while working on his private issue before returning back to socialize.

"What are you doing here?!" he demaned her to answer tone lowered and it made him hiss through his mouthfull of teeth, he was nearly panic-stricken — for how long did she stood there? Did someone else saw him?

Now that he turned completely Diya's eyes fell upon the sight of his bare chest and limbs covered in bloody holes, wearing nothing but his trousers that had not been spared from the crimson liquid.

Diya immediately rushed inside, gaze focused only on his wounds. "Darling— Why? How much does it hurt?!" she piled him with questions, her voice filled with worry while she pulled out her clean cotton handkerchief to dab at the rivers of blood on his chest.

Baraka watched the ivory hands tenderly work and place on his glistening skin, as the crimson substance coated her fingers then the rest of her hand his jaw grew taut and it became harder to swallow.

Blood looked appetizing on her skin.

He had to hold back his elongated tongue in his mouth as it hankered to caress her hand up to her wrist until it would be clean pearl-colored flesh again.

Baraka tore himself from her body heat and with his bloodied clothes he sat down on his bedroll, trying to dissolve those nasty, invading thoughts.

It would scare her away...

"I...I did not want you to see this mess." Baraka avoided her gaze as he tried to process how he should confess, staring at his lap.

Without hesitation she joined him, sat right by his side and again left so little space between their bodies.

"But why would you even do this to yourself?" Diya searched his gaze for answers, hand carefully placed on his inked bicep and her palm and fingers spread around the chissled muscle, avoiding the gaping holes but accidentally smearing more blood across his flesh.

He held his breath, savoring her caresses, and very slowly exhaled through his nostril. "... You are keen on touching me and I didn't want to risk stabbing you."

"Oh, Baraka..."

Diya's airy exhale was too close to his pointy ear, it made him ever-so-slightly shiver and his spine to straighten.

Baraka has no idea when but she already had the front of her body glued to his side, her bent knees dug into his thighs. Painted nails tenderly raked over the lines of bleak black deep under his skin, silently marveling at the artistic piece.

He was about to face her but the contact of his temple against her forehead prevent him to do so, Diya was so close yet so far from his reach to hold her properly as any consistent lover should and she still deserved much more attentiveness.

"You're so solicitous, ダーリン." Diya cooed, lips against his jagular vein, feeling for his spiking pulse.

Baraka's breathing turned raspier when her praise replayed in the hippocampus, he needed to double check, make sure he heard right. His blemished facial features still tinted with the redish flush. He could only respond with grunts that huffed hot air from his enlarged mouth against her pale lashes, making her flutter her eyelids like wings of a butterfly and tickle the underside of his jaw.

Diya's hands, ever so curious, stroked each side of his right arm up to his knuckles drenched in blood, she wasn't squeamish to get her hands dirty. When travelling over the holes with extra carefulness, Baraka didn't flinch an inch, to her inner relief.

When the small hands cupped at his on top of his lap, fingers knead at the inside of his palm, Baraka was close to moaning. Diya cuddled closer, upper leg hooking over his above the patella and he welcomed the weight and her body heat like a weighted blanket.

It was beginning to be quite tempting to pull Diya over him, at his lap, into his arms, for her to lay on top of him. Baraka wanted all of it at once. Yet, he didn't give in. His sanity could succumb into the unpredictable need of yearning, Baraka's not ready to risk it, who knows what... violently affectionate being he could turn into.

Under the blanket of the night with no worry about tomorrow, in the privacy of this tent, just the two of them — this could be one of the very few, if any at all, opportunities they could take advantage of. Right here, right now.

And she's only waiting for him to make up his mind.

"Touch me?" Diya's enticing request carried a peck, two, from his throat to his jaw where she could reach.

It loosened his fear that gripped at him, now he can't hurt her unless he'd want to. It made him that much eager and indecisive with where to start.

Baraka freed himself from her bloody paws to have something to lean against, the freed hand rested just behind her back and rubbing over her hip. The contact over her clothes made Diya feel like it left a scorching print on her bare flesh, it sent excited shivers down her spine.

"Gladly." Baraka throatily rumbled, as if purring with delight.

#Diya #Baraka #Kenshi Takahashi #Johnny Cage #GIRLIE IS LIVING MY DREAM TBH 😩#Bara's THAT ONE skin makes my brain go bbrrrr @_@ like SIR- did you saw those spikes off or is it that easy to get them off???? what???#does he feel relief if he gets rid of them #? Like scratching an itch?#Like when you have Psoriasis and you have to scratch it bc it gives you relief??#mind you I'm living with a person who has Psoriasis and it's nasty. when you scratch the dead skin you bleed so f*cking much #but fortunately It doesn't hurt them. Just relief cuz it itches #so much blood in my life damn #I headcanon Bara has the same with the Tarkat and that it's SOMETIMES painful. depends on the spot ig #he just loses the spikes on his forearm he grows as weapons for a moment so why can't the other spikes around his body do the same 🤷‍♀️#...... Yes i am making up excuses so the two would have a safe bang session for now #— next time it would be with all the shebang and Bara will be less anxious abt it

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